Author's Note: There is only about another 2 chapters for this story. I hope you enjoy this particular chapter!

Sam didn't move from his spot next to Dean for most of the afternoon. Instead of getting up or even laying down next to the couch to sleep, Sam partook in his rest by sitting on the floor with his head resting on the couch. Bobby had gone in and out several times and tried to get Sam to move because he would be sore later. Sam had insisted that his little discomfort didn't mean anything in comparison to his brother's and he had always prided himself on being able to at least take the same knocks that Dean did.

One thing that Sam had never anticipated about getting older was the amount of shrinkage. Dean had always been such a larger than life person. Granted Sam had been taller for most of their adult life, but Dean always carried himself as a bigger man would. And now, Dean seemed to take up such a small amount of space. Every time Sam woke up, Dean was a little smaller, a little more drawn in, and a little less coherent. Several times Sam had awoke to Dean calling for their father.

However, calling for their father or asking Sam why he wasn't at school didn't bother him nearly as much as when he and Bobby had to clean Dean up after an accident. The scene had been horrible. Dean had groaned and Sam sprung awake and Dean said he had to go to the bathroom. Sam attempted to get him up on his own and wasn't able to get Dean's uncoordinated body up and into a walking position. By the time Bobby came in and helped, Dean had wet himself. Sam stood there dumbfounded. Tears threatened his eyes, but the resolute look in Bobby's when he said "Dean, buddy, let's get you cleaned up, had made Sam take this new indignity stoically.

After getting Dean cleaned up and in new pajamas, they were able to get him back on the couch and Dean, worn out from all of the activity, fell asleep almost immediately as his white hair hit the pillow. Sam was suddenly grateful that the Dean he knew and loved wasn't exactly inside this decrepit body. Dean would have been so humiliated. However, the advanced aging had taken Dean away and left Sam with a man who was crumpling under his own weight and wasn't able to control his bodily functions, and wasn't embarrassed by it. Dean hadn't put up any kind of fight when they had taken his soiled pjs and cleaned up his lower body. The lack of fight was almost more than Sam could take. Now, with Dean sleeping as comfortably as he could, Sam allowed the tears that had burned the back of his eyes for over an hour, free flow down his long face. Sam was suddenly sure that midnight would never come.

The wetting himself or having to spoon feed Dean got to Sam like no other demon trick ever had. He hadn't been this upset even after he killed the hunter with Meg possessing his body. This demon had his proverbial red button. It was a whole hell of a lot worse watching Dean fall apart and become an invalid who couldn't remember basic things about his own life, than just simply killing Dean. She was forcing Dean to die without dignity, and she was forcing Sam to watch. Watch as his big brother, the invincible Dean Winchester, be reduced to a pile of nothing; a pile of bones that couldn't even get themselves to the bathroom on time. Sam ran a hand over his face, and for the five millionth time, he checked Dean's breathing. It was shallow and he was beginning to wheeze as if there was fluid in his lungs.

"Oh God." He mumbled. "Please don't let him go like this. Please." Dean let out a ragged cough and it continued to the point where Sam had to help him sit up. Dean was fully awake after that coughing fit. Bobby was there and extended a glass of water. Dean took it with shaking hands and Sam helped guide the glass to his brother's wrinkled pale lips. When Dean had enough, he looked in Sam's direction,

"Sammy? You there?" Oh my God! He can't see anymore! Sam screamed in his head.

"I'm right here Dean."

"Where's dad?"

"He's on a hunt Dean." Sam had learned that it was much easier to give this lie than to watch his brother be distressed when he was forced to remember their father's passing.

"You better get to bed then Sammy, it's dark."

"Okay. I'll go to bed Dean."

"Don't forget to make sure the salt lines are intact."

"Okay."

"Go to bed Sammy." Bobby helped Dean lie back down. "Go to bed Sammy." Dean whispered before falling back to sleep. Sam stood up quickly, ran to the bathroom and promptly threw up the little water that Bobby had forced down his throat. Bobby was at his side in mere moments.

"Sit with Dean. I don't need help."

"Sam.."

"No! Go! Sit with him. This is about him not about me."

"Sam…" Bobby sat beside him and rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"The demon knew what she was doing." Tears came in a free flow down his high cheekbones and trailed down his long jaw. "I can't—" his voice cut out. "I can't watch him die like this."

"We aren't going to let him die. We have the amulet. I started boiling the herbs for the ritual. We only have to wait another hour."

"But in that hour…what if Dean…" he could barely form the words, "wets himself again." Sam closed his eyes and tears flowed from his closed eyes. "I feel so humiliated for him. And Bobby if he remembers…"

"We aren't going to mention it to him."

"I keep praying to God for help and guidance. I've been praying my whole life and it never seems to work. Dean deserves God's help. Why won't he help? Why? Why does everyone and everything in life conspire against him to hurt him? Hell I've hurt him, Dad has hurt him…when will it stop?" A loud thud was heard from the other room followed by a weak voice calling "Sam."

Sam couldn't maneuver his long legs around Bobby and the furniture in the bathroom so he crawled as fast as he could on all fours out of the bathroom, then gathered his legs, and hurried to his brother's side as fast as possible. Dean must have tried to roll over in his sleep and fallen off of the couch.

"I'm here Dean." Sam said as he skidded to Dean's side. Dean was crying and he looked like a little kid all scrunched up.

"Huts." Dean mumbled. Sam gathered his brother into his arms and rocked him. Bobby made it into the living room and watched as Sam tried to gather the blankets from the couch and try to wrap them around Dean one handed. Bobby moved swiftly and helped the younger man get the blankets around Dean. Sam looked up and the pain that was there overwhelmed the older hunter and for a moment he wondered what was worse; Dean falling apart or Sam having to watch it. The boys were so interconnected that it was impossible to separate the pain, the emotions, the physical body. Bobby suddenly realized that if they weren't able to save Dean that Bobby would have to help Sam find a clean way of killing himself.