AN: A few chapters today since I finally got on wi-fi today. *sigh* I thought I'd have the story done by today, but not so much. Maybe tomorrow? Wednesday at the latest…probably. No promises! As I did for an earlier chapter, I put the responses to the comments at the end of the chapter so you don't have to wait so long to get to the start of the chapter. And I love y'all way too much not to respond! I promise that if you took the time to comment, I answered below.

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Dean stepped out of the room with great reluctance. He felt like if he let Sam out of his sight for a single second, the kid would disappear. It wasn't logical, but he was still reeling from the thought that Sam had thought about – had acted on – taking his own life and somehow Dean hadn't seen it coming. His little brother, the one he knew better than any other human on the planet, his responsibility had almost…and his thoughts stuttered again.

It wasn't like Sam would be in danger with Dad in the room with him. Well, not in any physical danger anyway. As for what Dad would say to Sam now that the horrible truth had come out, Dean didn't have any idea. Oh, he had no doubts that Dad loved Sam. But he didn't understand Sam very well. Dean just really hoped that Dad wouldn't let his fears about how Sam had almost done that turn into anger and yelling. Even half dead, Sam would get angry or defensive and yell back. Dean winced. He shouldn't have let Dad kick him out of the room.

Dean turned a little aimlessly toward the parking lot, though he didn't intend to drive off just in case he was needed to mediate. Actually, it wasn't aimless. There weren't many touchpoints in Dean's life, and the main two were alone and hopefully playing nice together in the motel room behind him. But a third was the Impala. Just leaning against her might settle his nerves a little, not that anyone else would ever understand that.

Dean took two steps toward the vehicle that was as close to a home as he'd had in almost 16 years and stopped short. A very familiar looking Chevelle was parked two doors down. Bobby. If he couldn't be with his brother and/or his dad, he could be with the next closest thing to family. Hoping the man was staying in the room just beyond his car, Dean knocked on the door in the pattern they'd set years before. Long, short, short, pause, short, long. "DW" for Dean Winchester.

After a moment, the door opened and a rumpled looking Bobby gestured. "Well, come in before you let in enough flies to take on the roaches."

Dean felt a moment of guilt, suspecting he'd woken up the other man despite the early evening hour, but knew his sympathy or apology wouldn't be appreciated. And far more strongly, he felt a relief that Bobby was there. There was only one other person on the planet who regularly put himself between the warring parties and Sam and Dad, and even though they weren't fighting right now, there was an automatic comfort in having Bobby there. Well, given that Sam was barely conscious when Dad had sent Dean outside, he assumed they weren't fighting.

Hiding a sigh at the thought, Dean nodded his thanks and walked in the room and plopped into one of the rickety wooden chairs. "You torch the Tara dragon?" he asked.

Bobby nodded and didn't bother to correct him. "Nothin' left but ash. Burned like paper, even the bones." It was a rare helpful trait of the supernatural that the bodies usually burned more easily and completely than humans or regular animals.

"Thanks," said Dean easily, as if Bobby hadn't driven across the country just in case they needed help.

"Shuddup," responded the older hunter, much as Dean had suspected he would. Bobby lowered himself gently into the other chair, froze as it creaked alarmingly, the relaxed when it didn't collapse. "How's your brother?"

Wasn't that just the question? Not knowing what to say about the kid's mental state, Dean launched into a clinical recitation of Sam's kamikaze run and subsequent injuries, gratefully accepting the beer that Bobby offered about halfway through. Dean knew most people wouldn't approve of a 20-year-old drinking, but Bobby had never worried about such things, and heaven knew he needed it. Bobby looked like he needed his, too.

"Wish I'd got here sooner," mumbled Bobby. Then he straightened and cast an intense look at Dean. "So now you told me how he's doin' physically, you gonna tell me how else he's doin'? And how you are? And why you're here and not persterin' him?"

Dean frowned, but it was out of reflex, not out of surprise or even irritation. For all he hated 'talking it out,' he really wanted someone to ask those questions. "I…I don't really know how he's doing, Bobby. I mean, I've always known what was up with him, and all of a sudden he's a stranger and…and…how could he do that? What – why would he even – why didn't he talk to me?"

"You should be askin' him those questions, soon as he's awake," said Bobby softly. "And don't let him wiggle out of tellin' you. He's gotta be the one to put the work in to get through this, but you're the only one who can help him get there." Bobby took a long drink of his beer. "He wants to get past it, Dean, and he's no dummy. Offer him a hand up and don't take no for an answer. But don't make light of it, either. You make him feel weak or stupid and he'll never bring nothin' to you again."

Bobby stood, ostensibly to get another beer, but took the time to set a hand on Dean's shoulder on the way. "Dean. It ain't your fault."

Dean found himself glad Bobby couldn't see his face at the moment, since stupid tears filled his eyes. Grateful tears. Gratitude that Bobby listened and understood, and didn't blame Dean, though he should. Dean was supposed to see danger coming for Sammy. Any danger. There was gratitude, too, that Sam had changed his mind and that it hadn't been too late and he was still breathing, and…

A swat on the back of the head stopped Dean from nearly hyperventilating, but Bobby didn't call him on it. "So you wanna tell me why you're here and not mother-henning your little brother?"

It was just what Dean needed to change his focus. "Dad kicked me out as soon as Sammy started waking up," he admitted irritably. "He said they need to talk." He didn't bother to hide his wince, seeing an answering one on the older hunter's face. "Think there will be bloodshed?"

Bobby glanced at his watch. "Let's give 'em 10 more minutes then go over and find out. Then I'm gonna go grab some food, we're all gonna eat, then you and your pa are going to come back here and get some sleep while I sit with Sam." He held a hand to forestall the protest that was on Dean's lips. "I been sleeping, but I'd put money down that you and John haven't. You wanna be sleeping when Sam wakes up the next time, or you wanna be rested for that little conversation?"

Dean conceded with a glare over the neck of his beer bottle, and Bobby chuckled just a little. "That's what I thought."

Dean took another drink of his bitter brew to cover just how damn reassuring he found it to have Bobby there and listening and giving direction. He was 20 freaking years old. He shouldn't need reassurance. But the fact was, he did need it. Licking his lips, Dean tried to find a way to ask what he needed to ask without sounding like some whiny girl. "So, we all know I got the looks in the family," he started. Bobby lifted one eyebrow and snorted, but didn't interrupt. "But, uh, Sam's a lot smarter than me. What happens if he decides again…?"

Bobby set his own beer back on the table and began to rotate the bottle slowly. "Hunters know better'n just about anybody else that there's no guarantees in life, so I ain't gonna make you any promises. But when push came to shove, Sammy backed down from it. And when have you ever known him to back down from anything he really wanted?"

Dean didn't have to think about that. "Never." Dean could often convince Sam to go along with what he wanted, because normally Sam didn't care that much and would rather go along than bother to fight about it. But not when it was really important to him. Then he never backed down come hell or high water or monsters or Dad or even Dean.

"Exactly," said Bobby, a smile teasing at the corners of his moustache. "And what exactly do you think made him change his mind?"

Against his will, Dean pictured that moment just before Sam had run forward and planted the spear in the ground. He could see it with perfect clarity. He was running and firing, his eyes all for his brother despite the literal dragon on the beach. As the moon came out, Sam turned toward him and their eyes met. It was too far for Dean to read the emotions on Sam's face, but in that second, something about his entire demeanor changed.

But Dean would rather walk down Broadway in a tutu than say the pansy words to convey what he was feeling, so he muttered something incomprehensible.

"Idjit," said Bobby fondly. "Just keep that reason in front of his face so he can't forget again. And as for brains, well there's smarts and there's smarts. No doubt your brother's great at books learning, but you got Sammy smarts. You know him. Sure, you missed one totally unexpected thing – but did you really miss it? Or did you have your suspicions?"

Dean shrugged. Bobby was not fooled.

"Use your brain, Dean. You know that kid. Keep him talking. Pay attention. With you on the case, Sam'll be okay."

Dean wanted to believe all of it. But. Sam wanted normal: a picket fence and a dog and taking the cute girl from chemistry class to the high school basketball game. "I can't give him what he wants, Bobby," he admitted, feeling like a failure all over again.

"Maybe not," agreed Bobby easily. "But you can give him what he needs."

Those words hit Dean with the force of a speeding semi and stuck right in his craw. Damn. Was Bobby right? But he'd used up all of his emotions and felt an almost desperate need to feel more like his regular self again. So instead of thanking Bobby or remarking on the advice, he finished his beer and affected his best Scarlett O'Hara impression. "Why, I do declaya: you ah a poet, Bobbay Singer!"

Bobby shot him a look that said he'd never heard such ridiculousness in his entire life, but couldn't hide the amused twinkle in his eye. "Remember I said there's more than one kind of smarts? Well, boy, I'm starting to think you didn't get any of them."

"Hey!"

"C'mon, let's go see if we need to do damage control."

But when they got to the other room, they found Sam asleep again and Dad looking better than he had in a while. Dean felt a curious mixture of disappointment that he couldn't see Sam awake and nervousness that he wouldn't know what to say once he was. The former was much stronger; there was a need to see those eyes open, hear him bitching, and get tangible reminders that Sam was alive and here with him. That thought brought him back to Bobby's words: give him what he needs.

Before Dean could dwell on it too much, Bobby did something very few people would attempt: he took control of the situation and ran roughshod over the disagreement of two Winchester men.

"Here's what's happening," Bobby announced. "I'm goin' to grab some food from that greasy spoon just inside town and see if I can hear what people are sayin' about the ashes by the lake, if anythin'. Should be back in about forty. While I'm doin' that, you two," he stabbed a finger toward Dean and Dad, "are takin' showers, cuz you smell like you been mud wrestling in a sewer."

Dean leaned over and pointedly sniffed Dad's shoulder then coughed like he'd smelled something rank. Dad gave him a mildly amused look and smacked his arm lightly with the back of his own hand. But when Dad opened his mouth to respond, Bobby plowed right over him.

"After you eat and don't stink, or no more'n usual, you two are gonna go to my room and grab a coupla hours sleep while I keep an eye on junior here."

Dean's eyes bounced back and forth between the two older men, curious as to who would win the battle of wills. Bobby might seem calmer than Dad, but Dean had seen the former win his fair share of their face-offs. But this time, Dad just threw Bobby half a smile and grabbed some clothes. "I'm showering first so I might actually get some hot water. And if you come back with that Thai crap, Singer, I'm throwing you out on your ear."

Bobby snorted and reached for the doorknob. "You're welcome, ingrates. Hey Dean, you want the shower in my room?"

Dean couldn't stop his gaze from flashing over to the way too still Sam and Bobby nodded in commiseration. His expression said he understood that Dean didn't want to leave his little brother unattended, even if Dad was just in the shower.

The bathroom and outside doors closed almost in sync and a pressure he hadn't even noticed left Dean's chest. He was alone (relatively) with the injured Sammy. Dean eschewed the chair as too far away and perched on the edge of Sam's bed. He studied the pale face and didn't fight the shudder that went through him as he thought of all the what ifs for at least the hundredth time.

What if Sam hadn't changed his mind? What if he'd been too late? What if the spear hadn't hit the tarasque's heart? What if Dean and Dad hadn't been able to finish it off? What if that claw had slid under the ribs instead of over them? What if more of the dragon's weight had landed on Sam? What if he tried again?

Even though he was deeply, deeply asleep or even unconscious, Sam's eyes bounced beneath his lids, flicking frantically back and forth. His breathing picked up and his brow furrowed, smoothed, and furrowed again. Dean wondered if Sam were dreaming about all of those same what ifs.

Unable to simply watch Sam's distress, Dean laid a hand on his chest. "S'ok, Sammy," he said, barely above a whisper. For his part, Sam gave a bone-deep sigh and the too-old lines on his face smoothed out. A tiny smile even trembled on his lips, gone almost before it was there, and he settled peacefully.

And Dean stared at his little brother until the bathroom door opened, hearing Bobby's words again and again. Why did he change his mind? Just keep that reason in front of his face. You can give him what he needs. Could it really be that simple?

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Scealai: Thank you!!! Bobby does provide a lot of "salvation personified" in this chapter and the next. I do love him! No promises on the punch though. LOL Also, I love what you said on another story that Bobby has hug written all over him.

ToastySoup: Thank you for that! Yes, I do think John tried, which has to count for something!

Izzchel: I am so touched that you are putting the effort into understanding my little story when it's difficult for you to read English! I really hope you keep enjoying it!

Timelady66: Thank you! I don't believe anyone is purely one dimensional, and I tried to keep that in mind with John. I love the phrase "angry placeholder." You're a writer, aren't you?

sfaulkenberry: I probably read over your comments 20 times – there's an awful lot of great content there and you have this habit of helping me understand the characters better. I never read that graphic novel, but it's a really interesting take on John's parenting. I see him very human and very flawed in his ability to parent and show love. I'm so curious to hear what you think about how I portray Bobby, who features very prominently in the next two chapters. Thank you as always for your thoughtful and helpful words.

writingtrainingwheels: Oh, good! I'm so glad you find John in character. In case you couldn't tell, I stress over things like that. And yes, I very deliberately am moving my way up to the Dean and Sam conversation / confrontation. That's the one we all want to be a fly on the wall for, isn't it?

Lena: Leave my muse alone! She's crazy enough already! LOLOL You know I'm just messing with you. My thoughts with John are that Dean learned to express most really strong emotions through apparent anger from someone, ya know? And no worries – lots of Dean to come. I do explain why he wasn't there in chapter 11. And thanks as always for your encouragement and nice words. By the way, you say you're too OCD for the quick turnaround, but I bet you're just more careful to edit than I am!

Ruby: Thank you so very much! You are very, very kind. It was especially helpful what you had to say about John. He can be difficult for me to write because I want to balance the good (which we didn't necessarily see first hand in the show) with his faults. I'm so thrilled to have you reading and enjoying.

UnknownDarkAngel05: Oh thank you! It makes me happy that you are excited for updates. John's an emotional guy, isn't he? There's a lot there, and I feel like it would come out as fear and anger and care all at once, so I'm really glad you felt that through chapter 11.

Shazza19: Thank you thank you thank you!! I promise your question will be addressed in the next 2 chapters!

Bell1408: The big blurt is still coming, LOL. Sam almost spilled the beans twice already…I doubt that he can hold out forever.

Stormy: I am grateful and blushing by your wonderful comments (and PM too). I don't even know what to say except that I appreciate you so very much. I promise that there will be more John, but first Bobby and Dean. *bows in gratitude* Thank you for your kindness.

Jenjoremy: I'm so glad you enjoy the descriptions! It's always a toss up – too much detail? Not enough? I think Sam was smart enough to recognize the love beneath the fear even as an emotional teenager. At least I like to think he did. Thanks as always for your insightful reviews.

JaniceC678: I haven't given up on the story, and I won't – promise! The next chapter will be up tonight yet and the one after that is already in progress. The premise isn't mine – it came from a prompt by Bell1408. I'm just here for the angst! LOL I'm glad you like the portrayal of John. I had some of my own angst over it.

SPNfan: You're so right! Some of that is addressed in the next chapter, and more in the chapter after that. Thanks for commenting!

Agnes: Ooh, we'll get to that, promise. And Dean's thoughts…stick with it, please. And thank you for taking the time to review.