So I don't know what was up with this week but I didn't want to post any more until the glitches seemed to be okie dokie again. So anyway, here we go. I've got to finish this before I can't resist my other ideas anymore. XD

Disclaimer: I have never owned, I do not own, and I will never own.

There were precious few things that could be said to stop Sam and John from arguing, but one of them was definitely, "Dean's gone."

It took them a moment to realize that Pastor Jim had said it, and when they did they were suddenly united again. "What do you mean, gone?"

Bobby came back from the stairs. "He means gone. He's not here anymore."

"Well, then where is he?"

"Gee, I don't know, maybe he went somewhere quiet where he wasn't scared to death by you two idjits makin' a war instead of caring about him," Bobby growled, glaring at them.

Sam spluttered. "Oh, so I'm the bad guy now? Take it up with the abusive parent!" He glared at John, who immediately flew at him again.

"Everything I did, I did you keep you boys safe!"

"Including beating Dean?"

"It only happen a few times!"

"Yeah, why? Because you were drunk?"

Sam and John were almost nose to nose at this point. Bobby stepped up and wrestled them apart. "Haven't you two done enough?" Bobby yelled at them. "Now, Dean's out there somewhere, he's confused, it's cold, and it's dark. So put it aside," John and Sam both moved to protest, and he cut them off. "BOTH of you, because we need to find him. Now."

They both gritted their teeth and stormed out the door in silence. Bobby and Jim shared frustrated looks and followed them. There was a faint trail of footprints that Dean had left in the mud leading up to the cemetery. Bobby surveyed them. "Damn idjit's barefoot," he sighed. The Winchesters at least had the decency to look guilty for a moment before they glared at each other and started into the cemetery.

The trail was easier to follow once it hit the woods, since Dean had snapped off branches and crunched down leaves in his wake. "Dean!" John called out, looking into the dark expanse.

Sam glared at him. "Look who suddenly cares," he muttered under his breath.

John stopped short. "I'm not going to take that attitude from you," he growled at Sam. Sam whirled around, but before Bobby or Jim could stop them, a scream tore through the forest.

"Dean!" Sam cried, diving after the scream. "Dean!"

The silence in the forest now was deafening. Sam had never thought he would want to hear his brother scream, but at least that had given him some sort of connection to Dean, let him know he was still out there, somewhat nearby. He didn't even care anymore that John was right behind him, he was glad for any support at all.

Please, just don't let there be another shifter, he begged silently. He ran, breaking the branches his brother had left behind him, just barely searching for the broken twigs that signaled his brother's path. He noticed it start to weave and he sped up, barely noticing when he hit the ground.

He moved to get up, kicking slightly at whatever had tripped him, stopping dead when the something whimpered and pulled away. He shot up and collapse beside the wet, shivering heap of his brother. "D'nt h'rt m'," he mumbled, curling in on himself. Sam hauled him up into his arms, feeling Dean's forehead. Of course, he was burning up. "G'st." Dean struggled against him weakly, an elbow grinding into his stomach. "N' g'st."

Sam frowned, trying to understand what Dean was saying. He continued to wriggle and whine pathetically, nothing intelligible coming out of the noises of distress he was making. Sam shushed him gently, stroking his hair and rocking him. "It's OK, everything's OK."

Dean settled, turning his face so that his feverish eyes met Sam's. "Sam?" he asked, coherency leaking back into his speech now that he had something to latch onto. Sam almost felt a lurch of happiness before he realized that his name was said with the same blankness as before.

"Yeah, Dean, it's Sam."

Dean sniffled, his body shuddering and a small sob escaping his throat. "Sam," he said, sounding close to tears. "My mom's dead and there's monsters everywhere."

And that was so true that there was nothing left to say but, "I know, Dean," and watch Dean go silent and still, tears flowing down his cheeks. John moved to pull Dean into his arms, but Sam shrugged him away and picked his brother up, leaving him standing behind him. Bobby tapped John on the shoulder and they walked back to the house.

Sam took Dean straight to the bedroom, washing the mud off his brother's face and from the small scrapes all over, taking off his sopping clothes and replacing them with his own clean ones that were looser on Dean. Dean didn't move, and if Sam didn't see the tears streaming from Dean's open eyes, he would have said Dean was unconscious. He wiped the tears from Dean's face and laid him into bed, tucking the covers over him. "You'll feel better in the morning," he said.

He wasn't sure it was a lie. Dean crawled into his bed sometime in the night, and would speak in the morning. He ate a good breakfast, followed Sam as he went about his day, looking at possible hunts, fixed Jim's disposal while no one was looking, and started on a Rubik's cube. He simply wouldn't speak the whole day. Or the next. Or the next.

"You know, he did this when Mary first died," John finally said on day five. It was the first thing he'd said to Sam since they'd argued. "Just wouldn't talk. I swear, he'd take my hand and just look at me and I knew it'd be OK. He was the only thing that kept me from being some sad drunk in a gutter somewhere." Max's childhood, Sam thought, but he kept silent. "But hell, he wouldn't say a word."

He looked over at Dean, who had started on a 500 piece puzzle Bobby had gotten him after he solved the Rubik's cube. Sam had never solved a Rubik's cube in his life. His throat constricted. Just how clever was Dean without him even knowing? "Why'd you do it?" he finally asked, because he'd been dying to know since he found out.

John rubbed at his face, sighing. "Because he let me. All around me there were monsters and people dying and I needed to have power over something." He looked at Sam sadly. "I deserved every word you said to me, you know."

Sam nodded. "I get it, though, I guess." He flinched at the number of times he'd lashed out at Dean because he felt small or weak. If he'd been drunk, he'd probably have hit Dean a couple of times too. "And I know you were trying."

"Sometimes, trying isn't enough," John whispered, watching Dean quickly sift through pieces to find one he was missing.

He suddenly stopped, staring at the pieces for a long time before standing and coming to sofa where Sam and John were sitting. Without so much as a sound, he sat beside John and took his hand, meeting his eyes with a small smile. John's eyes were full of tears, but before he could say anything, Dean stood back up again and went back to the puzzle.

Sam smiled at his brother. "He's gonna be OK, Dad."

This is most likely the second to last chapter. I was thinking of extending it into one big, mongo chapter, but it just didn't feel right, so I'll upload tomorrow or Friday.