Greetings! And we're back with another chapter. Sorry this one took a little longer than usual, but hotshow really wanted, well, the way this chapter ends. And she got it! I hope the rest of you like what's coming, too.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Sam faced the wall, wishing he could fall asleep and convince himself this was all a really, really, really bad dream. And he thought those visions were bad!! Oh, god, he could remember it all.

He lifted his hands to cover his face. When Bobby mentioned wanting to turn Sam over his knee for some ER antics, he thought maybe he spilled some coffee or fingerpainted on the walls. He had no idea that he threw a massive fit right there in the waiting area and 'accidentally' knocked out two orderlies before Dean got him to calm down. Well that went a long way to explaining why the nurses in the ER always wanted him in restraints.

Sam doubted he would ever be able to show his face in the hospital cafeteria again. A full clown melt-down? Dean liked to tease him occasionally about crying at those commercials when he was a kid, but the real reason it upset him was because it was true. He still didn't like clowns, but he no longer felt the need to run away. But clown patrol? He didn't remember sending Dean on clown patrol. Was there a time when he asked Dean to check for clowns? Sam searched his now-available memories and, yes, to his eternal shame, there was.

So lost in his own thoughts, Sam had no idea who else was still in the room. He remembered someone coming in and doing something to his I.V., but he could not tell what or how long ago it happened. Had he drifted off? "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" Dean's voice was sharp and clear.

"Uh…" How could he ask if they were alone?

"Bobby's out searching for fresh coffee. It's safe."

Sam sighed as he rolled back to face his brother. How did Dean do that? It was like his brother could read his mind.

"Want to see how bad the television shows are right now?" Dean asked, lifting the universal bed/nurse call/television control.

"No," Sam breathed. "We need to talk."

Dean made a face. "Maybe we can find Rockford Files on. It's about the right time of day."

"Dean…" Sam let all of his frustrations flow into his brother's name.

Dean rolled his eyes, dropping the control. "Fine. What?"

"Why…" Sam swallowed, his mouth bone dry. "How did you put up with me?"

Dean still sat on the edge of the other bed. His head cocked to one side as those intense older brother eyes raked over Sam. "You're my brother."

Duh. That was implied in the tone, of course.

"You should have…" Sam took a deep breath. What? What should Dean have done? Had him committed? Locked him away? Dean sat a couple of feet away, waiting for Sam to finish. "Punished me."

Dean's serious face broke with a single chuckle. "Punished you? Dude. You're bigger than I am." Dean's head shook from side to side. "I figured I was doing pretty good just keeping you under control. Besides," Dean hopped off the other bed to stand closer to Sam, "it wasn't all that bad."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't bother lying to me, Dean. I can remember everything now."

"I wasn't lying, Sam." Sam looked up at his big brother again. Dean shrugged. "When you were little, you were a pretty good kid. You never went looking for trouble back then, or when you had weirdo amnesia. That was my job." Dean grinned.

Sam shook his head. "No it wasn't," he insisted. "You were just looking out for us." An image of Dean fighting in a bar flashed through his mind. "You didn't really take me out to hustle pool, did you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Told you I'm just trouble. Now. Are we done with this chick-flick crap?"

Sam nodded, more to put his brother at ease than because he was actually ready to be done. Dean headed back for the television control. "You let me get away with murder, you know."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, you always were a spoiled brat."

"Boys?" Bobby walked in. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Nah." Dean held out a hand. Bobby handed over a cup of coffee. "Sam's just remembering a little too much right now."

"Hey." Sam struggled to sit up. "Where's mine?"

Dean's free hand shot over to push Sam back down. "You don't get any. Doc's orders."

"He's a pain in the ass," Sam grumbled.

"You prefer Catwoman?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"Ah – no." Sam settled back into the thin pillows. "Think they have anything more comfortable?" he asked, punching at the pillow behind his head with one hand.

"I'll ask," Bobby offered, heading out of the room again.

"Bobby really read me the riot act after the ER thing," Sam told his brother as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks again.

Dean nodded, glancing down. "Yeah. I figured." He cleared his throat. "I didn't ask him to do that."

"I know, Dean." Sam studied his brother's down turned face. "And I'm sorry."

Dean did look up then. "It wasn't your fault, Sam. You had weirdo amnesia."

"No, I know that." Sam fumbled with his bed controls, lifting the head of the bed higher to make it easier to say this to his brother's face. "I meant that I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier today." He paused, wondering how long he had actually been out. "That was today, right?"

Dean offered a lop-sided smile. "Yeah, that was today." Dean sipped at his coffee. "Don't worry about it."

"I have to Dean," Sam argued, wondering if he could have this conversation without turning into an ass again. "Because I was hoping that you set us up to go to Bobby's."

Dean's eyes widened and he choked on his coffee. "Do wh-what?"

Sam heaved a deep sigh. "Well, I…" He shook his head. "I don't know if I can explain it."

Dean swatted at Sam's feet. Sam moved them over to give his big brother room to sit at the foot of his bed. "Try," Dean commanded.

It was the most big brother-ish thing Dean had said in months. Sam found that he wanted to obey, but not necessarily in front of Bobby.

"They're checking on the pillows," Bobby announced, stomping his way into Sam's room. "And according to Sam's nurse, they're going to take him down for some more tests soon. I guess ol' Doc Wayne is being paranoid." Bobby frowned at them. "What? Am I interrupting? Again?"

"Sam was just explaining something," Dean said, those hazel-green eyes not breaking contact with Sam's for an instant. "Go ahead, Sam."

Back at Bobby's house, that very same tone was the one that sent Sam right over the edge. Now he found it familiar and comforting, because the truth of it was that Dean was the one who always looked out for him. Dad was almost never home when they were kids, but Dean was always there. He knew that Dean would continue to always be there when he needed his big brother.

"I was hoping Dean called you, Bobby, to get us to take a few days off," Sam admitted sheepishly.

Bobby's eyes went wide and round. "You want to run that by me again, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really."

"But you were going to try to explain," Dean prompted him. Steam from Dean's coffee drifted up, twirling in the gentle air currents in the room. It was peaceful, serene, and at complete odds with the violent twisting in his gut.

Sam twisted the thin, coarse bed sheets in his fingers. Did he dare say it out loud? For that matter, could he say it out loud? "After that time I took off and you had to come find me," he said softly, "things kind of…" Sam shrugged.

"Sam?" Dean asked. Sam felt Dean shift on the bed. His brother was probably running out of patience and Sam really did not blame him.

"Changed," Sam finally said. "Things changed."

"What things, Sam?" Bobby asked.

Sam could not pull his gaze from these fascinating sheets. There was a little yellow stain or burn, about the size of a pinhead. Right there. He twisted the edge of the sheets tighter around his finger. "Stuff between me and Dean," he finally admitted, "changed."

"Dean?" Bobby's voice was softer than Sam thought possible.

"It's not important," Dean said, moving off Sam's bed. Sam glanced up. Dean's face was perfectly blank, impassive, like he was in the middle of a poker game.

"Hang on." Bobby stood in Dean's way. "What the hell has been going on between you two? Now I wasn't going to say anything," he shoved his ballcap back, "but I think this has gone far enough.

"Sam, you've been an ass. And Dean, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you'd better knock it off. I've never seen you two so out of sync. If your daddy were here…" Bobby shook his head. "Well, he'd probably tan both your hides."

Dean snorted out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Yeah, probably."

Sam crossed both arms over his chest. "Dad never laid a hand on either of us."

Bobby turned to glare at him. "Maybe he should have."

Sam dropped his eyes back down to his sheets. Maybe Bobby was right, maybe Dad should have spanked them as kids. Hell, maybe Dad should have just beaten them. He knew he deserved it.

"Knock it off, Bobby," Dean snapped. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Sam's head snapped up. Did Dean just throw Bobby out?

Bobby studied Dean before nodding. "Fine. In the morning, or should I call first?"

Dean shrugged. "Whenever you want. Tomorrow."

"Night, Sam." Bobby set his half full cup of coffee on a table before he walked out. Was it nighttime already? Sam glanced at the window. Bright bands of color slashed through the lower sky, painting the horizon in temporary beauty. Sam always thought of it as the tranquility just before the nasties came out to play.

Feeling very apprehensive, Sam turned to watch his brother. Dean watched Bobby leave before sitting on the other bed.

"Damn," Dean muttered, looking down at the floor. "He didn't finish with the salt." He popped off the other bed to retrieve the canister of salt. Sam watched his brother bend over to pour salt on the chalk design on the floor.

"Let me," Sam insisted, swinging his legs out of bed.

"No, Sam," Dean replied in a calm voice. "You keep your ass in that bed or I'll tie you to it."

Sam swallowed hard, but he pulled his legs back in. "Dean, I really do feel fine."

"Sure," Dean agreed in that same voice, "as long as you have that feel-good juice in your I.V. Stay right where you are, Sam."

Sam watched his brother anxiously as Dean circled his bed. When his brother straightened up, his face was flush. "Maybe you need some of this feel-good juice too, Dean," Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head, setting the canister on the table next to the remains of Bobby's coffee. "Nah, it'd just put me to sleep. I don't plan on sleeping tonight."

Sam rolled his eyes. Well, he wanted his big brother back, didn't he? He certainly got it now. "Dean, that's ridiculous. Just salt the symbol around your bed and get some sleep."

Dean gave him a grin that had no warmth in it. "That was Bobby's plan, not mine." Huh. No wonder Dean wanted to get rid of Bobby. What did Bobby have on Dean, anyway? Sam could really use that.

A nurse appeared in their doorway with a wheelchair. "Sam?" she asked, giving them a sweet smile. "I need to take you downstairs for a few tests."

Dean flashed her a broad smile. "Hey, Jasmine. Been a while."

"It's Lily, Dean," she said with a laugh. "Why can't you remember that?"

"Because I only think of roses when I see you," he said, that smile beaming now.

Lily laughed again. "Oh, Dean! You flirt, you!" She swatted at Dean's arm and he laughed with her. Sam tried to place her face, but he couldn't. He would have to ask Dean later who she was. "Come on, Sam." She patted the seat of the wheelchair. "Let's go for a little ride."

Sam hesitated before getting out of bed, looking at Dean.

"Well come on, Sammy. Don't keep Lily waiting." Sam held the back of his hospital gown with one hand and rolled his I.V. around the bed with the other. Lily rushed over to help with the I.V. pole.

"I hate this," he mumbled. To his surprise, he felt Dean's hand give his shoulder a squeeze before Lily started pushing the chair out of the room.

"Don't mind if I come too, do you, cutie?" Dean rushed to walk beside them in the hallway.

Lily laughed again. "Dean, do you ever stop?"

Dean pressed the button for the elevator. "Nope," he said, beaming. "Isn't that right, Sam?"

"That's right," Sam agreed readily, wondering if things between them were settled now.

The elevator doors opened. "Here we go," Lily said brightly, pushing him inside. As they crossed into the small box, the elevator shuddered.

"Maybe we should take the stairs." Dean's voice carried over his shoulder.

He heard Lily give a small gasp of surprise. "My badge!"

"I have the doors," Dean promised.

Sam twisted around in the wheelchair as Lily locked the wheels. He watched her step out to retrieve the nametag on the floor. Dean stood just outside the elevator, one arm holding the doors open. His brother ogled Lily's ass as she bent over and Sam could not resist a chuckle.

"Hey!" Dean grabbed at the elevator door with both hands, but it closed rapidly. Dumbfounded, Sam watched with an open mouth. Dean barely got his fingers out in time. With the doors closed, the elevator shuddered again and the lights went out.

Laughter rose up within him, but it was strange to his ears. The sound was foreign, like it came from someone else. Now he heard Dean shouting and pounding on the doors outside. He laughed again, knowing that the gremlin engineered this. Yeah, he was so screwed.