Disclaimer: I do not receive any profit for my fanfictions, nor do I own Supernatural or Sam and Dean Winchester... Sometimes life sucks... Sits in dark depressing corner.

Title: Thoughtless Memories

Chapter Title: Chapter Three: What the hell?

Set After: Asylum

Summary: Dean thought Sam hated him. What better way to say 'I love you' like rock salt in the chest, right? He thought he couldn't feel any worse pain than he had when his brother spat those words at him, then shot him... But one day Sam was attacked while Dean went out for coffee... And he found something worse than that pain. "Sam? You okay?" "Um... Do I know you?" Now Dean's fighting to save his only brother... and his memories... But will he make it in time?

Warnings: Hmm... None this time: )

Dean smiled slightly, nodding. "Well, Sam, we need to go find the --- um... We need to go figure out how to fix your head."

"Right. Fix my head," Sam said, nodding. "But can't it... can't it wait?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, suspicious yet curious. "What, you don't want to get your memories back?"

"I feel like a movie. Don't you?"

"Uh..." Dean thought for a moment, staring at Sam like he was crazy. He shook his head. "No. Now let's go." He walked over to the door and opened it. "Get your shirt on. We have business to take of."

"You do realize that we didn't find anything, correct?" Sam walked into their motel room, throwing his jacket down on his bed.

The two brothers had just spent the day searching for some 'beast' that Dean wouldn't shut up about. He even hired an artist to draw it from Dean's descriptions. And he wouldn't even tell Sam what was up with it. He was keeping him in the dark, and it was making Sam curious... Was this the way it usually was between them? Did Dean go and do whatever he wanted, forcefully dragging Sam along for the ride?

"Why didn't we stop by the hospital even once? Or do you enjoy me not knowing what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, sitting down on the bed.

"You seem a little pissed off..." Dean said, nodding as he walked in the door.

"Thanks for that diagnosis, Dr. Phil," Sam said, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

"Sam, I do want you to remember. I want you to know 'what the hell is going on.' I really do. But..." Dean sighed, shaking his head. He walked over to his bed and sat down, Sam's eyes following him the whole way. Dean grabbed his boots and pulled them off, throwing them across the room. He then took off his jacket and set it on the bed. Finally looking over at Sam, he became a bit saddened. "If you could remember you'd understand why I can't tell you."

"That's just the thing, Dean. I can't remember." Sam sighed and laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

Dean knew they weren't talking anymore. The discussion ended when one of the two simply refused to look at the other, seemingly becoming interested in the stupidest things. And that's exactly what Sam was doing. He was focusing his attention on the ceiling instead of Dean. Well, fine. Two could play that game.

Dean laid back on his own bed. "Night, Sam."

"Whatever."

Dean sighed and reached over at the lamp, turning off the light.

"What the hell!"

Dean groaned, turning over in his bed. He sighed, his eyes closed tightly. Yawning, he opened them up slowly. He looked over at the clock. 3 am. Wake up time wasn't for a while... What was going on? Dean sat up, turned on the light and looked over at Sam, who looked scared beyond reason.

"Sam?"

Sam quickly looked over at Dean, his eyes wide in fear. "What the hell!"

"I believe you've already said that," Dean said, getting out of bed.

"And I'll say it again: What the hell!" Sam quickly got out of his own bed and looked around quickly. He noticed a gun on the table and grabbed it, pointing it at Dean.

"Woah, talk about Deja Vu," Dean said, his eyes going wide.

"Who are you?" Sam asked quickly, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

"Sam, just put the gun down, okay?" Dean said slowly, raising his hands up slightly. "God, am I awake now."

"Who is Sam?" Sam asked, looking a bit confused.

"Okay, you've had a relapse... I can deal with this," Dean said, nodding. "Just... just do both of us a favor and put the gun down alright? Please?"

Sam thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Make me."

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He did something that always helped him not kill his little brother on the spot: He counted to ten silently inside his head. After a few moments he opened his eyes again and nodding, not looking surprised at the way things were turning out. If Sam hadn't said the day before that he didn't hate Dean, Dean would've... well, he would've thought that this came from that hate. But it was obvious Sam was just scared and confused. He'd just have to deal for a little bit.

"Sam... Buddy... Look into my eyes, alright? You don't want to shoot me. You know me. You do. I know you do," Dean said, his voice almost pleading... Almost.

Sam shook his head. "No. I don't." He started towards the door, and Dean started to go after him until Sam pointed the gun at him again, causing him to freeze on the spot. "Unless you want to see your brain splattered on the wall right before you die then you'd better let me go."

Dean shook his head. "I can't. I can't let you go, Sam. It's too dangerous out there by yourself. Especially at this time of night and especially in your condition."

"So you'd rather you die then me go out there, is that right?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. He looked a bit shocked, but his face was still hard.

Good job, Sammy. Keep cool in serious and terrifying situations like these... Even if you don't remember anything, it's good to know you still have good survival instincts... Don't show your enemy any of your weakness... Even if the enemy is me this time. Truth is, Dean would've done anything to get Sam to break. Hell, Dean was about to break.

"Yeah, that's right," Dean said, nodding. "Believe it or not."

Sam just stared at Dean, the gun still pointed at him. He stood that way for a few moments, then looked at his gun. Hesitating, Sam looked back and forth between Dean and the gun. Dean probably would've made a wise crack about it, but fear of being killed stopped him. Finally Sam lowered the gun. He sighed, then walked over to Dean, handing it to him.

"Alright. I'll stay," Sam said, walking over to the bed. He sat down and sighed.

Dean sighed and set the gun down on the table before sitting down on his own bed, facing Sam. He stared at him for a moment. "You don't remember anything?"

Sam looked over at Dean, then shook his head. "No. I don't."

"But you trust me?" Dean asked, a bit hopeful.

"It's hard not to trust someone when they said that they'd rather die then have something bad happen to you," Sam said, smiling slightly. "I trust you. Whoever you are. But... what you said makes me think that we're close."

"We're as close as two men can get. We're brothers." Dean stood up and walked over to Sam's bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a photo album, walking back over to Sam.

"We're brothers?" Sam asked. He then smiled slightly, nodding. "Makes sense... You're older, right?"

Dean stared at Sam for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Your guard. Your vibe. You try to be strong around me... you don't want to show any weakness. But at the same time you have a protecting nature... And love. Something you wouldn't just share with anyone." Sam smiled slightly, nodding. He looked down at the ground for a moment, his smile fading. "Sorry." He looked back up at Dean. "You probably don't like being analyzed like that."

"No, no, it's alright," Dean said, nodding. "Any other time I probably would have made a joke out of it or would have made a smart ass remark... but not right now. You, uh... You don't need that right now. You need someone to trust."

"How did this happen to me?" Sam asked quietly.

"We'll go into that later... At the moment I just need you to look at these," Dean said, handing Sam the photo album. At Sam's questioning look he continued: "Well, you like to keep photos. I don't know why, it's just something weird you do. Anyway, yesterday you had this problem too; you couldn't remember anything. But then you touched one of your shirts and remembered. I'm hoping the pictures will do the same thing."

Sam nodded, then started leafing through the pictures. He smiled slightly at one, where two young boys were smiling, one of them with cake on his face, and a birthday hat on his head.

Dean sat down next to Sam and smiled slightly. "Dad must have given you that..." He pointed to the boy standing up. "That's me. And that," he pointed the boy with cake on his face, "is you. It was your fourth birthday. You were four, obviously, and I was eight."

"We look happy."

"At that point we were," Dean said, nodding. "We were, Sammy."

"Is that my name?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean. "Sammy?"

"Well, it's Sam," Dean said, nodding. "And I'm Dean."

Sam nodded. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Dean."

"It's nice to be met."

Dean: Please do not tell me this is going to happen in every chapter. How exciting: A life trying to convince my brother that he's Sam Winchester and I'm his older brother Dean!

Haley: If you would be so kind to please shut up then we could get on with the story.

Dean: Yeah, whatever.