-AN- Slowly but surely, this is getting written. I think it's been almost 6 months since the last chapter at this point. But I /am/ trying. So keep the faith. We're getting somewhere. And for everyone who is still actually reading this thing, thanks for sticking around.

-GNS-

When Sam woke up, face pressed into the side of Dean's thigh, he felt a little sheepish. He shouldn't have done that—it'd been forever since he'd lain down on his own brother, and this Dean wasn't even really Dean.

"Almost there," Dean said, having sensed Sam wake.

Sam wanted to apologize as he straightened up, but he did feel so much better.

"Sorry," Sam coughed, straightening up and sliding back to his side of the car. The vertebrae in his back popped with the movement.

"'S Fine," Dean mumbled, and at least that much was the same between them—these two different Deans—neither one of them knew how to handle a chick-flick moment if someone wasn't dying, at least not with Sam.

Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before nodding sharply and turning to look out the window at the familiar scenery.

"The map'll stop working up at this turn, just keep driving, it'll be straight ahead," Sam told Dean, who acknowledged the directions with a tilt of his head but pointedly did not glance in Sam's direction.

"So, what is this place exactly? I don't think you ever really explained it."

"Yeah, it's—well it's kind of a funny story actually. Our grandfather—Henry Winchester," Dean turned sharply at Sam's words, "who I assume your Henry was named after," Sam drawled out slowly, "he was something called a 'Man of Letters.' Basically a secret society of monster librarians. Like hunters with less crappy motel rooms and more books. A little bit ago he fell through our closet one morning. Time travel man," Sam shrugged, "got stuck here with us and never made it back home. But he did give us a key to their magic bat cave."

"Huh," Dean mused.

"Have you—you don't know about this stuff… did Henry—Dad's dad—was he?" Sam tried and failed to articulate the question, but Dean understood enough.

"He skipped out when Dad was a kid, but if what you're saying is true—about him getting stuck in the future with you, well maybe someday he'll fall out of my motel closet."

"Maybe," Sam agreed. "It's that thing, up ahead," Sam told him, motioning towards where the bunker was coming into view.

"That thing?" Dean asked dubiously.

"Just wait until you see the inside, man."

"And you think they'll be something in here that can… that'll help me get back?" Dean questioned carefully, hopefully.

"If it's not in here, it might not be anywhere," Sam said honestly.

The Impala rumbled to a slow stop.

"Well, let's hope it is then."

The three men all turned to watch the thing pull itself up out of the water toward the bear, and Dean drew his flare gun.

His shot went wild, and he cursed.

Sam scrambled to his feet as Henry pulled the trigger on his own flare gun.

"Damnit," Sam huffed, running off toward the water where the creature was pulling itself back into the water.

"Sam!" Dean called out, but Sam was already jumping off into the water, "Sammy!"

His brother disappeared into the deep.

"Fuck, shit," Dean muttered, pulling off his jacket and tossing his flare gun to the side.

"Dean, wait!" Henry called, grabbing him by the arm.

"Let go," Dean growled, wrenching his arm away.

Henry looked as if he'd been slapped, "you can't go in there. It's dark, the water is freezing, if you jump in too—"

"I'm not letting my brother be drowned by some blind water freak!" Dean shouted, kicking off his shoes.

"Dean," Henry pressed, "he's already under. There's no way you'll find him in this. We should—we should wait. Maybe he'll pop up and…"

"You want me to give up? You want me to, what? Just let Sam die? Fuck you. No. Never."

Dean thought he heard Henry mutter something that sounded like "he's my brother too," but Dean was already pushing forward. He was reaching the edge when Sam's head popped up with a gasp. Sam was holding onto the thing, muscles straining to keep it above water, as the Qalupalik tore viscously at his sides.

"Shoot it!" Sam shouted.

Dean and Henry both scrambled to reload his flare gun.

"Pull him higher out!" Henry called, "we need a better shot!"

"Shoot it!" Sam yelled again, urgent, "gah!"

Dean pulled the trigger and hit the thing between the eyes. Even in the water, it ignited from the inside, turning to dust in Sam's arms.

"Sammy!?" Dean called, leaning over the edge and beckoning Sam closer, "you okay kiddo?"

"Gngh," Sam moaned, hauling himself up over the edge of the dock. His shirt was in shreds, deep gashes leaking blood sluggishly as he flopped against the ground. His lips were tinging blue.

"Shh, hey bud, you're gonna be alright, okay? We're just gonna get you to the car and patch you up, huh? You'll be just fine," Dean soothed, pushing wet soggy locks out of Sam's eyes.

Henry, who had been monetarily forgotten, shifted on his feet.

"Let's get him up—"

Dean shot Henry a glare, not having forgotten his earlier suggestion to leave Sam in the water to die. Even if his suggestion had been right in the end, Sam had popped up and they had been able to stop the monster. Part of Dean still felt bitter at the thought of anyone telling him to leave his brother behind.

"I've got him," Dean said sternly, hauling Sam up next to him, "nice and slow, Sammy, eh?"

They made it slowly to the Impala, and Dean carefully spread Sam out on the back seat. Sam's side was sluggishly oozing out blood, and Dean crawled into the back with him, knees on the seat to press firmly into Sam's side.

"Drive!" Dean called out to Henry, who was looking down at the scene somewhat shocked from outside of the car, holding Dean's abandoned shoes and jacket loosely in his hands. Henry tossed them into the front of the car and scrambled into the driver's seat.

"The keys!" Henry said urgently, and Dean scrounged around in his jeans pocket one-handed before tossing them over the seat.

"Hey, hey," Dean soothed, as Sam moaned, eyes squinted shut. The pained furrow between his brows was a familiar and hated thing. "Hey Sammy, stick with me bud, okay? You're gonna be fine. We'll get you patched up and you'll be just fine. Kinda stupid of you, huh, going off by yourself like that? What happened to being the smart one, hey geek boy?" Dean rambled.

"N-not him," Sam stuttered out, and Dean's shaking hands froze against Sam's wound.

"What?" Dean asked numbly.

"N-not your b-brother, th-the the smart one," Sam explained, eyes open to slits. His skin looked a sickly grey, a factor of the blood loss and the cold.

"Doesn't matter—" Dean started, at the same time Henry swung his gaze harshly toward the back seat.

"What did he say? Is he—that's not even Sam? Is Sam still back there, is—what is he some kind of—"

"It's Sam!" Dean stated harshly.

"But he just said—he just said he wasn't our brother, that he isn't—" Henry began.

"He said he wasn't my brother," Dean corrected, pressing harder down into Sam's wound when it seemed like he was drifting off, "stay with me man, it's okay, stay with me, almost there."

"Kind of the same thing, man!" Henry protested.

"No, not it isn't. I swear I'll explain. I will, just please drive."

"I'm not going to drive some imposter pretending to be Sam back to the motel when Sam could still be back there drowning!" Henry yelled, the car rolling to a stop in the middle of the road.

"This IS Sam!" Dean shouted, "it's me who's wrong. I'm not Dean, okay? I'm not your Dean. And I will explain everything, I will, I swear I will, but please. Please. I need him to be okay? Alright? As soon as he's okay I'll tell you anything you want."

Henry stared at him blankly for a moment, mouth open in confusion.

"Please!" Dean begged.

The word seemed to snap Henry out of his state of shock. He nodded sharply before pressing down hard on the accelerator.

"I gotcha baby brother, you're gonna be just fine."