Ok, so… This chapter is the last one I've planned to the letter, so I'll have to try and keep up after this, but… yeah. I've got some ideas.

Disclaimer: Let it be disclaimed that I own SPN. 'Nuff said.

Sam felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Dean had been through some tough times, been delirious with fever, had his head all but smashed open, been two seconds from unconsciousness, but he had never been unable to remember Sam. Never.

"Sam," he repeated, more forceful this time. "Sammy? Your brother!"

Dean flinched at the loudness of his voice, then burst into sobs of terror. "I don't have a brother," he gasped, wiping weakly at his tears.

Sam felt Pastor Jim's gentle touch on his shoulder, and he fell back like he was made of paper. Pastor Jim knelt in front of Dean, holding his hands out to placate Dean. "It's alright, Dean, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, alright?" Dean nodded, but his eyes followed Jim's hands cautiously. "Sam, go get your father."

Sam was out the door before a feather could have dropped. He thought of the shifter, the childish way that Dean shied away from them. Maybe he didn't remember anything from after Mary had died. Maybe he remembered the days before Sam had even been born. That, somehow, frightened him less, and he quickly searched out John, hoping Dean would remember him. "Dad, come quick, Dean's woken up," he said.

John didn't need to be told twice, the cup of coffee that had been in his hand smashing to the ground as he barreled to his eldest's bedroom. "Dad, he doesn't remember me," Sam cried as they walked, almost ran, to Dean. He could feel tears coming to his eyes, and John cast him a quick, worried look before bursting into the room.

Pastor Jim seemed to have wormed his way slowly, gently into Dean's confidences, because Dean had allowed him to put a hand on his shoulder, and was slowly relaxing into loud, coughing sobs that always came when one tried to reign in panic and violent crying. When he saw John, tall, menacing and still racing towards him, he once again shot back up against the nightstand, eyes darting around in pure, unguarded fear.

"Who are you?" he cried desperately, trying to look at all three of them at once. John startled back, holding his hands up. "What do you want from me?"

Jim reached to console him again, but he jerked away. "Please, I just want… I want… I… please…" He was pausing and gasping between his words, and suddenly, Sam realized it wasn't just sobs. It was that Dean was trying to figure out what to ask for. "I want my mom!" he managed, but then he curled in pain and his sobs ramped up to wails, almost screams. Sam stood rooted to the spot, wanting more than anything to pick Dean up and cradle him, but not wanting to frighten him more. This was the greatest pain he could have ever thought of.

Bobby swept past him, coming from nowhere and kneeled in front of Dean. Jim yielded to him, scooting over to allow him room. Bobby grabbed Dean's face in both hands, gentle but firm. Dean flailed and kicked in blind terror, but he was much weaker than Bobby and Bobby could easily push him back down.

"Listen to me, boy," he growled at Dean, who struggled to pull away from Bobby, protect himself, but Bobby turned him again to face him. Dean suddenly stopped, seeming petrified, his eyes wide and his whole body shaking. "Listen." Dean nodded quickly. "That thing that was trying to kill you, that was not your mother, you hear? Your momma would'a never hurt a hair on your head, you know that."

Dean nodded, his whole body shaking with a small sob. "Where is my mommy?" he asked, pleading.

Sam and John were almost collapsed with pain at this point, but Bobby's voice stayed even. "She's not here right now."

Dean raised a hand to wipe at his tears and Bobby let him go to allow him. "Please, I just want my mommy."

"I know, Dean, I know," Bobby said. "But she left you with us, and you've gotta trust us, alright?"

Dean nodded, rubbing the back of his wrist absently across his face. "I… I don't feel good," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I know, kiddo," Bobby said softly, grabbing the corner of the blanket on the bed and wiping away Dean's tears for him. Dean let his arm drop limply to his side and looked at Bobby tired and relieved.

"Do I know you?" he asked, looking ashamed.

"'Course you do. You just don't remember right now, that's alright," Bobby said. "Now come on, let's get you to bed. And don't you be scared, your momma loves you and you know it."

Dean nodded, standing weakly with Bobby's help and letting the older man help him into bed. Bobby took the covers and tucked Dean in. Dean yawned quietly, and Sam stumbled beside him, reaching to card his hand through his brother's hair, then instead rubbing his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry I scared you, Dean."

""S OK. I'm sorry I don't remember you."

"It's not your fault, Dean." Sam could feel tears coming to his eyes and tried to swallow them down to the point that Dean wouldn't notice them and be alarmed.

Dean closed his eyes for a long time, then opened them. "I'm sorry, but… who are you again?"

Sam smiled sadly. "Sam. Just Sam."

Dean's brows furrowed, and he mouthed the name absently to himself. He looked back up at Sam, shrugging apologetically. Sam tried not to burst into tears. "Thanks for taking care of me, Sam," he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Sam wiped his own tears from his face, whispering back, "Always, Dean." He felt his father's hand on his back and looked up at John, also crying.

Bobby waited until Dean was fully asleep, then gestured for Sam and John to follow him. "Alright, ya idjits," he started once they were in the hallway, crossing his arms, and that was already enough for two of the most stubborn people in the world to be reduced to melting statues of shame. "You can't do this. I know you're used to Dean being the only person in the world to deal with you two, but for now you've gotta be gentle with him. He's scared and confused and weak right now, and you can't just go about ignoring how he actually feels like you usually do." It was a bad sign that neither of them protested, just bowed their heads. Bobby sighed.

"I know you two are just trying your best, but you can't push him. He'll remember when he remembers, and you two need to live with that fact that you're not the center of his universe at the moment. He needs you right now and you've gotta set yourselves aside and give him the focus he's given you all his life."

"I just got scared," Sam mumbled, barely audible, looking like he wished the ground would swallow him up. "He's always remembered me, I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him."

"I was trying to help. I wanted to hurry to him as quick as I could," John added.

Bobby softened at their lost looks. "I know. But you two have to tone it down, ya hear?" The both mumbled their agreement. "Now, I've figured out what this thing is." They both looked up at that, desperate for explanations. "Didn't really find a name, but it's a shifter – and a telepath. It turns into the person ya love most, usually someone deceased, then slowly plays with ya and takes away yer memories until you're nothing but gooey hash for it to drink right up. It finds what you have to stay strong for, then takes it away so you're all hers. My guess is, Dean doesn't remember hunting either, and he has no idea that his momma's dead. What's left in his head can't make much sense to 'im, so he's probably just gonna get more confused as he gets more lucid, but one thing I can tell ya. When he remembers about Mary, it ain't gonna be pretty, so… let's let him recover a little before we give it away, huh?"

They both nodded, determined to do whatever it took for Dean.

So… finally some answers? Yes, no, maybe so? Whatever the case, review!