Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than some others, but the end of this one was a necessary stopping point. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter; I can't wait to hear what you think. Thanks so much for reading! Have a great day. :)

Chapter 10

"I was right; that is a lot of food."

Dean was grinning over the tables with unabashed glee. If anything could put him in a good mood, it was good food—and man, did a lot of this stuff ever look good. He happily began dipping food onto his plate, watching in amusement as Sam pinched the crutches under his arms and tried to do the same for himself.

It was funny for a minute or two, watching stop in one spot, scoop up what he wanted, set the plate down, scoot over, then hold the crutches in place and pick up the plate and repeat. It was obvious from the set expression on his face that he didn't want any help, but soon Dean realized he was slowing the line down. Not that these kinds of people would ever say anything, but still…

"Dude, you're holding up traffic." He grabbed the spoon Sam was reaching for. "You just hold the plate; I got it."

"But—" Dean nodded ahead to the huge gap between Sam and people ahead of them in line, and Sam winced. "Fine…"

"Okay, say when." Dean dipped stringy homemade macaroni-and-cheese onto his brother's plate until Sam said stop, and then took some for himself. Working together that way, they picked up the pace a little, and managed to get through the line without anyone complaining. It wasn't until they passed the drink table that Dean remembered there wouldn't be any beer at a church function.

Then they discovered that, at this church function, there wasn't even any soda.

"Sweet tea, unsweet tea, or lemonade, boys," the woman behind the table said, pointing in succession to the three separated groups of large, pre-filled Styrofoam cups.

"Oh…right." He picked up a sweet tea. "If we're gettin' back to basics, might as well go all the way back." He took a swallow—and immediately choked, coughing out most of what he'd sipped. "Holy s—wow that's strong!" Dean glanced down at his shirt, which was where everything in his mouth had gone.

"Great…"

Sam had doubled over laughing immediately, and Clark pulled him up straight and took his plate from him when he trailed off into hacking coughs of his own. "You all right, boy?"

But the coughing didn't really seem to bother him, even though it sounded bad. He straightened on his own and cleared his throat, stopping the coughing on his own and still snickering. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he chuckled.

The woman behind the drink table was laughing, too. "That's why they call it sweet tea!"

"Yea, thanks, I get it. We were born in Kansas; it's just been a while," Dean smirked.

"Apparently too long," Clark grinned.

"Guess so." Dean tried the tea again, and this time he was ready for it, and he realized it was pretty good. "Hmm. Yeah, that's tea all right."

"Grab me some," Sam nodded.

Sam, Dean, and Clark wound their way out of the eating area, and finally managed to find a table among those that overflowed into the gym. As they passed one of the tables near the gym door a young blonde girl spotted Sam and waved wildly from where she sat with her parents, and Sam smiled tentatively and waved back—as much as he could with the crutches while holding a plate.

"What was that?" Dean asked as they sat down.

"She was in line right behind us at first," he explained.

"Dude, she's like twelve."

"I just bumped into her, that's all. We talked for a minute."

Clark seemed to have noticed, as well. "The Madisons? Yeah, nice family, they are. That girl of theirs is always sweet. She usually makes it her job to welcome all the visitors."

Sam went white. "The who—what?"

"The Madisons. That was Jessica Madison that just waved to ya over there."

"Oh," he answered weakly, and immediately dug into his food without another word.

Dean's eyebrows went up. "Well doesn't this day just get better and better."

Clark looked at him in confusion. "Did I say something?"

"Not at all; it's hard to explain."

"Ah…"

Sensing that Sam would rather be left alone—he had that deep thinking look on—Dean went back to discussing common interests with Clark. Still, he kept an eye on his brother.

When Sam got up to throw his plate away, Jessica's family was leaving. She took notice of him again and hopped over, still smiling.

"Hey."

It was easier to smile back this time. "Hey...listen, I want to thank you for what you said, back in the line."

She shrugged. "It's just what I woulda said to anybody."

"I bet so, but still—I think it helped."

"Good," she grinned. "Hey, you want me to pray that you'll get better soon?"

"Yeah…Yeah, I'd like that," Sam answered quietly. "Thanks." If there had been any doubt before, thoughts that the meeting was only coincidence, they were gone now.

"Okay, then I will. Promise you'll come back some time?"

Sam winced. "I don't know if I can promise that I will. I guess I can promise that I'll try."

"Okay," Jessica shrugged. "I can deal with that."

He chuckled, and didn't cough this time. "Great."

"Jessica, hurry up! We have to go to your grandma's this afternoon!" the girl's mother called.

"Coming!" She turned and glanced back at him one more time. "Bye, Sam."

"Goodbye, Jessica."

She disappeared again, and then he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. "Come on; it's time for us to get on the road, too," Dean told him.

"Right. You said goodbye to Clark already?"

"Yep. He headed out."

They couldn't leave before Dean went back through the area with the food table and piled a plate with leftovers. "You want anything?"

"No thanks."

"Come on, my brother—sustenance for the road. Never pass up good food."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine; get another plate then. I might eat it later. If not, I'm sure Bobby will."

"Good point." Dean dipped up a second extra plate from the ample food left on the tables, and headed out to the car with one in each hand, covered in plastic wrap he'd scored from one of the women already starting the cleanup in the kitchen. They settled in the Impala with the plates on the dashboard, and Sam leaned into the door, tired already.

"So. I guess you're glad we stopped, huh?" he smirked.

"Shut up. Yeah, I guess I'm glad we did. You happy now?"

Sam shrugged affirmatively.

"So just what was up with that kid, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "But…she told me everything was going to be okay. I know it was really just a little girl trying to cheer up a stranger, but…" He glanced at his brother. "I think I believe her."

Dean smiled gently. "Good—cause it will be. Maybe it'll take some time, and maybe we'll have to work our asses off looking for a way, but you will be okay, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome. Now no more hallmark moments for at least a few hundred miles, okay?"

He laughed once. "Whatever." Then he sat up a little. "Oh. Bobby. You'd better call him and let him know we'll be later than we thought."

Dean held up the cell phone that was already in his hand, and Sam settled back again. "Right. You're way ahead of me."

They made it to Bobby's late that afternoon, and he showed them the room he'd scrounged up. It was at the back of the ground floor and the walls were—unsurprisingly—lined with full book shelves, but there was a twin bed and an old couch that looked comfortable.

"It's not much, but then again I'm not used to company. You boys fight over the bed space, and I'll get dinner on."

"Ah, that's okay, Bobby. We just ate; didn't want to bother you tonight," Dean told him. They'd eaten the plates they'd brought from the church an hour or so back, and Sam was full again. By the way Dean said what he did, he was sure his brother was, too.

"That's fine, but I'm hungry." With that Bobby headed back to the front of the house, and Dean shrugged and turned back to look at the room.

"Which one you want?"

Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter. They both look a little short."

Dean smirked.

"What?"

"I just love the fact that there are disadvantages to being as tall as you."

Sam whacked his brother's legs with one of the crutches, and Dean yelped and jumped back. "Hey!"

"Don't mess with a guy on crutches," Sam said sagely.

"Smart ass," Dean muttered. "Fine, I'm gonna go get the stuff out of the car—and no, you're not helping."

Sam shrugged and dropped onto the freshly made bed, leaning the crutches against the wall and stretching out on top of the bedspread. A few minutes later Dean was back, a bag over each shoulder and lugging the oxygen generator behind him.

"I'm glad this damn thing has wheels," he growled. "Maybe it's smaller than others, but it ain't tiny. You better be glad you're my brother."

Yeah…I am.

Dean dropped the bags, settled the oxygen generator beside the bed where Sam was splayed out watching him with amusement, and then headed back out to the Impala to bring in the rest of their things. By the time he made it back to the room again, Sam was asleep.

He shook his head and made his way to the kitchen to find Bobby.

"Getting settled alright?" the older man asked, from where he stood over the stove stirring something.

"Yeah, we're good. Sam's out already," Dean shrugged, sliding into a chair at the table. "I'll have to wake him up and make sure he takes a breathing treatment before tonight though."

Bobby nodded. "Right…" He sighed and finally turned away from the stovetop.

"What?"

"So…do you have any idea what you boys are going to do?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Dean shrugged and shook his head. "No…not yet. I mean, I haven't given him an answer or anything."

"I see." Bobby studied him for a moment, and turned back to the stove. "I know you'll take care of him, whatever you decide."

Silence fell after that, until Dean cleared his throat and posed a question of his own. "Uhm, hey, so whatever happened to that thing in Ohio?"

"The first body fit a vampire's MO, but nothing else showed up after that. Either it was the most careful vampire nest I've ever heard of, and they've moved on already, or it wasn't anything supernatural to begin with. Either way, there wouldn't be much point in going there now."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Maybe without the immediate concern he won't bug me so hard for an answer."

Bobby just shook his head.

Sam woke with his shoes missing, the covers pulled over him, and his oxygen tube in his nose. After a moment or so he vaguely remembered being woken once before, Dean sitting him up and keeping him conscious enough to take a breathing treatment before he fell asleep again. Already a little embarrassed, Sam sat up slowly, wondering what time it was.

The moonlight from the window barely illuminated the old clock on the wall enough to tell him that it was well past midnight, and a glance told him Dean was where he should be—sound asleep on the couch across the room. Sam pulled the tube off and limped to the bathroom.

When he returned, Dean wasn't quite so sound asleep anymore. He wasn't awake, either, but he was tossing and turning on the couch, dangerously close to falling off. Sam crouched by the couch on his good leg to lean over Dean, and gripped his shoulder.

"Dean?"

There was no response at first. Dean let out a panicked breath in his sleep and tried to turn on his side, away from his brother, but Sam held him flat. "Dean, wake up."

Dean's breath hitched, and his eyes snapped open. They seemed to find Sam immediately, and then Dean's arms shot out and locked around him in an automatic reaction, before he was really awake.

"Sammy—!"

Sam grunted and dropped back on his rear as his leg gave out under him, and nearly pulled Dean off the couch with the movement. Being unbalanced woke him up quickly and in a moment Dean was sitting up, looking around in confusion and trying to untangle his arms from Sam's.

"What the—"

"Dude, are you okay?" Sam breathed, grimacing.

Dean must have realized that he'd done something a bit embarrassing, because he'd already looked away as he scrubbed at the sleep in his eyes. "Uhm, yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, Sam," he snapped.

"Okay…easy." Sam stood and backed away, holding up his hands in surrender.

He retreated to the bed, and slipped his oxygen tube back on as he crawled back in, watching Dean rearrange his pillows on the couch and turn toward the wall as he tried to get back to sleep. Within a few minutes Dean was still, but the tense line of his shoulders told Sam that his brother wasn't asleep.

"You can talk about it, you know. I was there too."

"Ya think?" the gruff voice answered.

It seemed like that was the only reply he would get, but Dean spoke up again several minutes later, his back still turned.

"Sorry, but you just…you don't get it. You can't."

"Get what?" Sam asked quietly.

More silence. "You didn't have to watch that bitch torture your brother," came the barely audible reply, finally. "You weren't stuck locked in a freaking basement listening to me screaming."

Sam gulped back the sudden lump in his throat. "You—"

"Damn right I heard it." Dean flipped over and sat up again, glaring into the past. "Mostly that last time, before we tried luring her down the stairs. And don't go blaming yourself; all of it was her fault, okay?"

"I'm sorry…"

"What did I just say?"

"I know, I know, I just…I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry any of it happened at all…" His chest ached now, but it was only because the knowledge hurt. He'd already known it, somewhere. He'd known Dean had to have heard a lot of what he hadn't seen, and he couldn't forget that his brother had been there, the very last time.

Sam was glad Dean had gotten it off his chest, somewhat, but it still hurt to hear.

It hurt to know his brother was still in pain, too.

"You and me both," Dean muttered in response.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked again, after another moment.

"I told you I'm fine. I'll get over it."

"Dean…"

"What did I say about the hallmark moments? Thanks for the concern and all that jazz, but we're done here." With that Dean lay down and turned away again, and this time he really did fall asleep.

Sam huffed in frustration and turned to the wall himself. He didn't sleep much after that.

"Sam! Get your ass in here and take this breathing treatment!" Dean shouted from the kitchen. It took a few minutes, but Sam came—without the crutches now, though he still limped a little. He dropped into a chair at the table where the nebulizer was already filled and waiting for him.

"I feel like a little kid with asthma or something," Sam complained.

Dean smirked as he pulled out leftovers for dinner. "Well thanks to you I feel like the mother of an absent-minded little kid with asthma."

Sam snorted, but by the time Dean glanced back to say something else, his brother had the mask over his nose and mouth and had turned the thing on. The noise made talking more difficult, and he was forced to abandon whatever smart-elic comment he might have had in mind.

"Hey, what do you want?" he called over the noise, motioning to the various containers he'd set out on the counter.

"I can get it myself," Sam muttered through the plastic.

Dean shrugged and turned back to the food. "Just asking…"

By the time Sam was finished Dean had warmed up his supper, and he flipped on the radio on the way to the table. Sam stood to get his own food, and made a face as he passed.

"You change the station, I kick your ass," Dean told him seriously.

Sam smirked, but said nothing, and Dean happily dug in and listened to his music. As Sam sat down a few minutes later, the song changed, and he set his fork down in surprise.

"Holy crap. No way."

Sam blinked up at him, just short of taking his first bite. "What?"

"I haven't heard this song in forever. I think it was old when Dad was our age."

"Okay…and?"

Dean grinned at his brother. "Dude, this is first song you ever danced to."

"Excuse me?" Sam set his own fork down now, confused.

"Yeah. You couldn't have been more than eighteen months old. It was just another motel, but Dad had the radio on, and you were walkin around. That song came on, and you went to town like you'd been doing it for years. Don't ask me why it was that one, though. You were a kid; kids do weird things."

Sam stared at him, looking like he couldn't decide whether to be amused, or horrified that Dean had brought up such a thing. "And you remember that? You were five."

"Of course I remember; it was friggin' hilarious." Unused to being nostalgic, Dean shrugged and looked away. "We weren't old enough for Dad to leave us alone yet, so it wasn't such a big deal that he was actually there, but…you know, it was one of those days he was in a good mood. It was about a year after the fire, and I think that day was the first time he'd really laughed since then."

When he looked up again Sam was fixing him with one of those small smiles and the I'm-glad-you're-actually-talking-about-stuff-like-this face, and Dean grimaced a little. "Anyway, yeah. It was funny. That's all."

Sam nodded in understanding, and thankfully seemed to gather that the short conversation was over. He picked up his fork and started eating, and Dean did the same.

It wasn't until both of them were nearly finished that either of them said anything.

"Dean…it's been almost a week."

His decent mood soured immediately. "I know that."

Surprisingly enough, it was the first time Sam had said anything, but that didn't mean Dean really wanted to talk about it. Watching Sam this week he'd made his decision, after much agonizing thought, but part of him didn't want to say it out loud—didn't want to shatter the easy rhythm they'd fallen into in the past few days.

It was easy here. It was easy to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Bobby saved him momentarily, when the older hunter burst into the room with a phone still in his hand.

"Whoa, what's up?" Dean asked immediately.

"Apparently we've still got trouble at that university in Ohio," Bobby sighed. "Two more bodies were found on campus yesterday, in the same condition as the first."

"Bled out? Vampire MO?" Sam asked.

"Yep."

Sam looked at his brother. "Dean…"

Dean let out a pent-up breath. "Bobby, can we have a minute?"

Their friend looked back and forth between them and nodded slowly. "You know where I'll be."

When he was gone Sam frowned. "Dean?"

"I heard you the first time. Give me a second." He stood and paced to the counter, resting his hands on the edge of the sink and staring out the kitchen window. He could feel Sam's eyes boring into his back. "I still don't like it," he said finally. He didn't have to tell anyone what he meant.

"I know," Sam said quietly.

"I'd really rather you stay here and let us handle this stuff. I'd like it a whole lot better if you'd let me and Bobby find a way to make you better." He sighed. "Thing is, we've been okay this week, and I don't want to lose that—but I can't have both. If I let you hunt, I'm not happy, and if I make you stay here, you won't be happy."

Sam stayed silent, probably wondering where he could possibly be going with this. Dean took a deep breath and turned around, leaning back against the counter. "I'll make you a compromise. We'll do this—we'll hunt, and we'll look for a way to fix this together—if you do it under my terms."

His eyebrows went up. "I'm game, I guess. What kind of terms?" Sam asked warily.

"You keep up with your medication, and your breathing treatments, you don't push yourself, and you let me decide how much you do or don't on a case. That means for now, at least, you are strictly on research and interview duty. You deal with the paper and the people—no tangling with the monsters."

"Aww c'mon, Dean—"

"Take it or leave it, Sammy," he shrugged. "My way or the highway—or rather, no highway for you. Whatever…"

Sam stifled a snicker at that, and rolled his eyes. He let out a shallow sigh of frustration and looked away for a moment, contemplating. Dean waited, shifting uncomfortably until his brother looked at him again.

"Fine. For now," Sam said finally.

"For now?" Dean echoed dangerously.

"Yeah. For now. Take it or leave it," Sam answered, repeating Dean's words from before. Dean grumbled.

"Whatever." He pushed away from the counter. "Let's let Bobby know, I guess." He'd just passed his brother when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

Dean only snorted a little. "Yeah." But when they found Bobby in his study and Sam was grinning by then, he couldn't help but smile.

"Well?" Bobby asked, looking up from his desk. "What are we doing?"

Dean glanced at Sam, then back to their friend, and shrugged. "I guess we're goin' to Ohio."