A possible missing scene to the episode Regarding Dean, in which Dean's memories were slowly vanishing. Inspired by a prompt request on tumblr by mystifiedgal: "For a fic idea. What about Sam trying to comfort Dean during during the regarding Dean episode. And also be so scared to loose him?" (Thanks so much for the ask!)

"Where were you going, back when you left?"

"What?"

"When you left me and Dad... I was so pissed. I mean, I was furious. I was a lot of things, actually. But I can't remember..."

Sam turns and looks to the figure perched on the edge of the motel bed, sitting hunched and nervous with a jittery knee that never stopped bouncing. Dean had been deteriorating fast since the memory-sapping spell; he kept pacing, looking at himself in the mirror, like staring into his own eyes would unlock something. You can't unlock what's dried up, though, try as Dean might to keep rekindling the lightning in a bottle that is living life and forming memories.

Sam's brow is beetled, and he slowly moves to sit down on the opposing bed, his knee knocking into Dean's.

Sam says quietly, like Dean requires softer words spoken now, "You mean... When I went to college?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up, and confusion twinkled in the light of his eyes. He laughs like he's heard utter nonsense. "College? Why the hell would I be pissed off about that? My little brother—" He slaps a hand against Sam's chest, over his heart. "—going to the big leagues! Higher education! I definitely remember having a GED, so you clearly bested me there. Good going, Sammy."

Sam's not sure what to say to that, honestly. Dean's smile smooths out.

"... I mean. That's good, right? College. Or am I not remembering something right here?"

"No, uh. No, college is great. When you can afford it, college can be awesome," Sam looks back at these wide, curious eyes, and for a moment wonders if this is what it was like for Dean to deal with a precocious but softer younger brother; the tables are turned. "It's complicated. It was complicated, I mean."

Dean looks down at his hands, as he wrings them loosely together.

"... I was pissed at — what, exactly? I can't even friggin'... I remember watching you leave. Why wouldn't I be happy for you? I-I mean, I'm the big brother, right? Little bro gets to go to college, and I'm fuming? In what universe does that make sense?" He squints at Sam, as if Sam has all the answers to fixing a nonfunctioning, grinding cog in Dean's head. "What kind of shitty brother was I? Am I?"

"Stop." Sam puts a hand out, expression sliding into something more serious. "Dude, no. How are you even guilt-tripping when you're missing so many memories here?" But Dean looks a little lost — the same kind of lost he'd been when Sam told them about Stanford. The eye of the storm, before the yelling from Dad and the breaking of some cheap lamp and the slamming of the door — Sam's heart clenches. He puts his hand on Dean's knee. "Listen, Dean... I didn't get it before, but I do now, okay? Yeah, maybe you should've been happy for me. Maybe I should've had a... a party with confetti and cake and embarrassing hugs from my family. And yeah, I was upset. For a long time, I was mad at you. At Dad. I loved you, but I was... yeah. I was pissed. But... I also know you were just..."

"Scared of losing you," Dean says after a moment, the memory of it in his eyes, heavy in the lines of his face. "Scared of losing my family. Losing what I had... All of those memories of... of being just me and you, and..."

Sam and Dean look at one another for a long moment, as a frightened tear leaks from the corner of Dean's eye.

"Sammy... Sam... I can't — remember any of it. I can't remember what I was scared to lose... and I took it for granted back then, because I think... I think I'm losing it for real now."

Sam's throat feels tight at the sudden intimacy (the sudden horror) of the silence... and at the memories that Sam has suddenly shouldered all on his own: boring nights in a motel room waiting for their father, terrifying early mornings in the woods with a shotgun in hand, and a whole lot of stars to look at before the sun would come up and they'd drive off into the next (painful; happy; mundane; frightening; warm) memory. The thought of it slipping away today, or tomorrow, soon... it makes Sam frozen with panic for a moment. He's not — ready to shoulder those memories by himself. He's not ready to watch his brother go. Not yet. Not for a long time. This can't be how the song goes. He can't lose him. Not mentally. Not physically. He's not fucking doing this again.

They'll fix this. He'll fix this. He swears.

He clears his throat, and smiles weakly.

"... Since we're waiting, I'll just have to tell you about crap we haven't even talked about; that way you're not actually losing any of the memories you had before this, huh? You wanna hear about some of the weird parties I went to in college? The time I accidentally ate a whole tray of pot brownies?"

Dean sniffs, rolling his shoulders. Trying to play it all off, like that moment of weakness had never happened... or maybe he's already forgotten what he was upset about. Sam's trying not to decide which it actually is, honestly, because the latter might make him lose it.

"Sure, yeah, okay." Dean pauses, and asks carefully, "... A whole tray of what-brownies?"