"Stop crying," Dean commands gently. Sam looks up at him with a tear drenched face. His eyes are red and his hands are shaking. He takes in a couple of calming deep breaths and then looks away. He's trying to obey Dean. He's trying to stop the tears from flowing but they just won't listen. He couldn't help it.

Everything that had happened to him has just suddenly flooded his memory and all he could see was the horrible things. With his good hand, he wiped his eyes and the looks over at Dean again who, too, wiped his face with the sleeve of his black jacket.

Dean cricks his necks and sniffs in dry hospital air.

"Sam, can I be honest with you?"

Slowly, Sam nods his head and turns his full attention to Dean.

"You know that things are gonna get messy, right?" Dean says.

Sam shrugs. "What do you mean?"

"Lots of cops. Probably court. Maybe different hospitals. Millions of questions. Enough talking to make your ears bleed. Enough tears to make a ocean. Confessions. The whole nine," Dean explains with his head down.

Sam studies the bed for a second, marinating on Dean's words.

He doesn't say anything.

"Don't try to worry. I'll keep things under control. I promise," Dean adds.

"Yeah.. I know you will, Dean," Sam replies softly, still staring down the bed sheets.

Dean sits back in his chair.

"I just wanna prepare you, Sammy. I wanna make sure your ready for all this crap."

Sam makes a face. A face that tells Dean that he's listening, but doesn't really want to talk right now. Either way, Dean continued.

"And I know you don't like talking about it, but you're going to have to what Dad did to you. Maybe about five or six times, depending how many times they need it on record, or in court," Dean eyed his younger brother. "You're going to have to tell them everything, Sam. You can't leave anything out. Okay?"

Sam's eyes roam the room, but he nods his head. "Yeah."

Dean gives Sam a questioning look. His face is full of hurt and thought. Dean knew it was only a matter of time until Sam actually though about what happened to them. It was only a matter of time before he actually had time to process it. It looks like this is the time. Dean just hoped that he'd at least try to wait until he recovered and was home. But since there's a chance that he might not come home with Dean and Bobby; now was as good as ever, then.

"Hey, Earth to Sam," Dean says, snapping his fingers.

Sam blinks hard, but continues to stare forward. After a second or two, he looks at Dean. His eyes soft and shining with newly forming tears. He sniffed and looked up at the sky to keep them at bay.

"What is it?" Dean asks, sitting forward.

Sam shrugs. "I don't know, Dean. It's just-"

Sam shakes his head and pushes down the sides of his lips, searching for the right word.

"What? Out with it, Sam," Dean replies shaking his head, also.

"I dunno," Sam repeats. "Just…why me? Why did Dad do that to me?"

Dean's eyes go big with Sam's question and he runs his hand though his shot chopped hair. He let out a breath .

"I'm not sure I can answer that for you. I just know it's something he shouldn't have done. It's something you shouldn't have to live through. And it's something that never should've happened at all. I'm sorry," Dean ends with his voice soft and full of regret.

Sam scratched the side of his neck.

"But why would someone even want to do that. Why would someone do that to their son?" Sam asks, looking at Dean with a look that expected him to know the answer.

Again, Dean shrugs. "Sam you can't look at it that way. The person that hurt you, the person that did those things to you wasn't our father. Sure, it was a side of him that should've never been exposed, but still. Dad wasn't always evil, you know that."

"But why?"

Why the hell are we playing 20-Questions?

"I don't know, man. There's something not right with him. Maybe he's a couple fries short of a Happy Meal or something. But you have to know he wasn't in his right mind when he abused you."

Sam cringed, looking away. He sniffed softly.

"You okay?" Dean asks, noticing Sam's mood change again.

"I just… never heard you say it before," Sam whispers.

Dean raised his hands a little, not sure what Sam was getting at. "What? Say what?"

Sam licks his dry lips, shaking his head.

He was silent, trying to find his voice. "Abused."

Dean bit his lip, not saying anything.

"Yeah, well," Dean answers the best way he can: by not really giving an answer at all.

-&&"&&-

"Where the hell you been?"

Bobby stops dead in his tracks in the doorframe, surprised by Dean's sudden outburst. Quickly, he looks over at Sam and sees him sleeping. Then, he looks back over at Dean and shrugs.

"Oh, I had a little run it with our friends the police," Bobby explains. He takes his hat off, rubs his hair, then puts it back on.

Dean stands. " Well what'd they say?"

Bobby shrugs. "Didn't say much. But they did a lot."

Rolling his eyes, Dean asks, "What does that mean?"

"They tore my car apart, looking for anything out of place, I guess. Then they told me they wanted to search my house but can't do that unless I go with them."

"You went home?" Dean asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Bobby nods. "Yeah for a little. Just long enough to watch them rip though my house."

Dean smiles. "Bobby, it looked like a pig sty before, it looks like a pig sty now. Forget it."

Bobby shakes his head in disagreement. He sits in the chair that Dean had gotten up from.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure," Bobby says like he's reciting it from a play.

Dean clears his throat.

"Yeah whatever. So what did they want- or find?" he asks. He looks over his shoulder at Sam, then back at Bobby.

Bobby smiles a little. "Hell if I know." he says with a shrug.

Arching his eyebrows momentarily, Dean sits on the foot of Sam's bed. Careful not to wake him, he gets comfortable.

"Well I got news," he announces.

"Good or bad?" Bobby questions.

Dean claps his hands together. "Bad. Real bad."

Bobby shrugs. "Well, out with it, then."

Dean lets out a breath. A breath that feels like he's been keeping it in for days. He can feel his lungs deflate with ease.

"I had a talk today."

Bobby pits out his hand. "With who?"

Dean smiles a fake smile. "Daddy," he informs in a sarcastic manor.

Bobby lets a surprised look wash over his face, but quickly wipes it off.

"What he say? What happened?"

Dean looks over at Sam. Even though he was sleeping soundly, he didn't want him to hear this. He didn't want to upset him if he happened to wake up while they were talking. He gestured to the door and began walking toward it, Bobby following close behind.

Once they were out of Sam's earshot, Dean began talking.

"They wanna take Sam," he blurts out, rubbing his eyes.

Bobby's stunned, shocked, surprised, and at a loss for words all at once. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"Wha-what? Who?" Bobby stammers.

Dean shrugs. "My dad…the police…social services…I don't know. But they don't want us to have him."

"What? Why? What happened?"

Dean twitched his nose and watched the nurse down the hall as he brought a large bottle of ice water into the room two doors down from Sam's.

"This lady came and said that someone wanted to talk to me. She said that she 'recommended' that I go with her. So I did. Well I didn't know what it was Dad and some dude," Dean explained.

"What dude? You know his name?"

Dean snapped his fingers, searching for the man's name in his mind.

"Uh…um, Ja- Jake-…Jason! Yeah, smart-ass Jason," Dean says.

Bobby raises his eyebrows. "Jason," he mumbles, and nods.

"Yeah, so we're talking and Dad's just lying through his teeth. You know, spewing a whole lot of bull crap. Saying hot much me missed me and Sam. Saying how he hopes that Sam's gonna be alright. Then he does something really stupid," Dean announces.

"What?"

Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple of hundred dollar bills. "He tried to bribe me…and Sam. Technically."

Bobby snatches the money from Dean. "And you took it?"

Dean smiles. "No, no…well, not really. I mean there was more. A lot more. But I only swiped a few hundred."

Bobby opens his mouth to argue.

"It's not like we can't use it, Bobby!"

"We can't, Dean!"

Snatching the money back, Dean asks, "Why not? I mean, we got Sam's bills to pay. His medicine, too. And food, of course. 'Member how the doc said that they wanna take Sam to therapy when he gets better? Well that costs money, Bobby! How else are we gonna pay for it?" Dean contradicts, beginning to put the money in his pocket.

Bobby grabs his wrists, and of course, takes the money back.

"But you can't accept a bribe, Dean. Especially not from the enemy.' Bobby shakes his head. "God, I thought you were smarter then that…."

Dean leans against the wall. "I am, Bobby. You know I am. But it was just like an impulse thing. When my Dad started talking about how much it's gonna cost to take care of Sammy, I started to think about all the money we don't have, you know? Then he just throws it at me, telling me to take it because he's still our Dad and still has to take care of us…I dunno. I just took a few. They didn't even see me take it. I swear."

Bobby runs his hand over the rip in his hat. "That's not the problem, Dean. If the police see that you took the money from your Dad they may think that you and Sam are still dependent on him. Especially if John tell them that you took it to pay bills for Sam. The judges always have a sweet spot for kids. Kids like Sam. They may give your Dad some leeway, maybe let him out early, because they'll think you and Sam still need him."

Dean shakes his head. "What? No, no they can't/ We don't need him Bobby. You know we don't need him. We never did."

Bobby nods. "I know that. But the judge might not."

Dean rolls his eyes. "But what about why he did to Sam? I mean you can't molest someone and just get away with it."

Bobby presses his lips together. "It's been done before, Dean. Plenty of times. Depends on how good his lawyer is, how good he makes his case, how much he can lie…stuff like that."

Dean slides down to the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore.

"Dad might get off 'cause of me?" he says softly.

Bobby shrugs. "'M sorry, Dean."

"It's my fault," Dean says, resting his hand on his forehead.

"Dean-"

"No, Bobby, it's true. Dad could not got to jail. And it's all my fault…"

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