Chapter Three: Secret in motion when my feet are on the ground

"You're getting the sheets all bloody."

Sam hid a wince. "They're not mine."

"There's nothing worse than a suspicious maid." Dean countered. He looked like he wanted to say something else. Or more likely, he wanted to help tend to Sam's wounds himself.

Both knew he couldn't.

"I'll tell 'em I had a baby." Sam said distractedly and only turned away from his arm when Dean started laughing.

Not snorting or chuckling, genuinely laughing. Bordering on hysterically.

It took the younger brother a moment, but then he smiled as well.

"I really just said that didn't I?" A flash of dimple and the mood was lighter than it had been…in a long while.

"Talk about your odd statements." Dean choked out. "Would you start running your own daddy-daycare?"

"Only if I could get Eddie Murphy to help me out."

"Now Sam," Dean took a deep breath to calm himself. "In your little excuse, where would you say the baby came out?"

"Shut up, dude." Sam warned, his mind effectively away from the pain in his arm.

"Seriously," Dean continued. "I mean, I can think of a few things, but…"

"Hey." Sam turned to him, suddenly serious. "If Arnold Schwarzenegger can give birth, I think any man can."

Dean stopped abruptly. "Huh?"

Sam looked up again, and was in hysterics a moment later. "Man," he gasped through the laughter. "It was a movie."

Dean's face turned an embarrassing pink color. "Right." He cleared his throat slightly. "Must a never caught that one."

"God," Sam sighed. "The look on your face…"

"What'd you expect?" Dean snapped. "I thought the freaking Governor of California was having a baby."

"Is there something wrong with government officials reproducing?" Sam asked, in that little brother, mock challenge voice.

Dean met his eye. "When the kid's start comin' out of the guys?" He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah."

"Alright, I'll agree with you there." And when Sam stretched the final bandage across his oozing wounds, he was surprised to find that he was finished.

Dean sighed. "I told you, you should have called dad."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Can we go back to talking about male pregnancies?"

"No." Dean decided easily.

"Female ones?" Sam tried.

"I don't think so." He looked somewhat sickened at the thought.

"Sex?" He pleaded. "You like sex."

"I don't really wanna discuss it in detail with my little brother." Dean cringed. "Again."

It took Sam a moment, but he smiled at the memory his brother had just brought forth.

"I was ten." He protested. "You had to give me the sex talk."

"You know, we did have a dad around." The elder countered, although with no real seriousness. "You ever think that maybe that was his job?"

"What kind of sex talk did dad give you?"

Dean's gaze drifted into space.

"Exactly."

"You know, I was only thirteen." He argued. "I didn't know everything there was to know, quite yet."

"You knew more than me." Sam said. "Besides, it wasn't my fault that that kid brought in a dirty magazine."

"Dirty magazine?" Dean asked. "What, are you still ten? Just say Playboy."

"I think it was a Penthouse." Sam looked thoughtful.

"And that matters because...?"

Sam shrugged. "That really was an awkward conversation, wasn't it?"

"I don't think explaining the functions of the male anatomy could be anything but awkward." Dean decided.

"At least it's the kinda talk we only have to have once." The younger brother looked grateful. "No repeating circles."

"Unless you count me buying you condoms."

"Hey," Sam protested. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"I found you making out with that girl in your room."

"Her name was Carla." Sam said in lieu of an actual defensive.

"And you were about three articles of clothing away from doing it."

Sam snorted sarcastically. "And having you walk in wasn't a mood killer at all."

"And after she bolted…"

"Thanks for that, by the way."

Dean didn't even pause. "I asked you if you had protection…"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"And you shrugged."

"I was sixteen." He said in way of explanation.

"And you think that stops her from getting pregnant?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Back off so I could take a cold shower in peace?" He suggested

This time, Dean didn't hold back a smirk.

"You spent the next two years reminding me to always wear a rubber." Sam recalled.

"Good sex is safe sex."

"She said she was on the pill." Sam explained, exasperated.

"Ah, okay, here's a rule of life," Dean's eyes met his firmly. "Chicks lie."

The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Not all of them."

"You're living in denial."

Sam snorted. "And the award for most ironic statement ever…"

Dean paused again, smile falling from his face. "I thought you didn't want to talk about that."

"I don't." Sam said quickly. "Never mind."

"You brought it up; I think we should at least have a chat about it." Dean pressed.

"Nah," Sam shrugged. "Forget it, I didn't mean to say it."

"What's that thing?" Dean inquired. "About intentional slips? Where you mean to say something 'cause you're thinking about it?"

"Freudian slip." Sam supplied, his mind going back to the brief psychology class he'd taken in college. "I think you'd like Freud, he based everything on sex."

"Not the point." Dean wouldn't be distracted.

"Seriously, he could tie sexual libido into everything." Sam smirked. "I don't think he even had an upstairs brain."

"Sammy," Dean said, in a warning tone. "You're doing that avoidance thing again."

"So?" He asked, sounding remarkably like a four-year-old.

"So," Dean pressed. "It's not healthy."

"I'm not calling dad." He was fed up with that suggestion.

"I…"

"And I'm not talking to a shrink."

"Okay." Dean agreed easily. "Then talk to someone else."

"I'm talking to you." He said as if that should be enough.

"I'm dead, dude." Dean tossed casually. "I don't think I can cure your mental health problems."

"I don't have mental heath problems."

When Dean said nothing, Sam had a feeling that it was because he knew no real way to respond to that.

"Why don't you call Missouri?" He asked suddenly. "She could help."

"I really don't feel like going back to Kansas." Sam said, gaze moving to the left, away from Dean.

"Then call her and ask her to meet you somewhere." He said easily. "You know she would."

"We've met her once." Sam argued. "You don't know if she even…"

"Bull." Dean sounded angry. "You know she cares about our family."

"You know, it's her fault dad started hunting." He said it as if he was just realizing it for the first time. "If he'd never gone to her, we might have had a normal childhood."

"Normal's boring." Dean waved a dismissive hand. "I liked growing up being able to kill monsters."

"Hero complex." Sam smiled.

"Yeah, well…" Dean shrugged, smiling slightly. "That was your fault."

"My fault?" Sam asked, taken aback. "How is your here complex my fault?"

"It wasn't," Dean shook his head, smile falling, trying to cover what he'd just said. "Never mind."

"No, you said it was my fault…" Sam trailed of and stared into space for a moment. "Because you were always looking after me, right?" Sam shook his head. "You were always saving my life…"

"Calm down, Sammy," Dean must have been able to tell that he was bordering on the edge of a panic attack. At least, that's what the tightening lungs and the closing throat felt like to Sam. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, you did." He pressed. "If I hadn't been around, you'd still be…"

"Dead." He filled in immediately. "I'd still be dead. I'd probably woulda been dead a long time ago."

"That's crap and you know it."

"No." Dean insisted, moving until he was sitting right next to Sam on the bed. The mattress bent with his weight and Sam fought so hard not to think about why that was. How did not real people, figments of his imagination, make furniture bend? "Sammy, do you realize that our whole family would have fallen apart a long time ago, if it wasn't for you?"

"Yeah ri…"

"Listen to me." He snapped. "You held us together Sam, don't you realize that?"

"Dad…"

"Dad knew it too," He obviously didn't want to hear what Sam had to say on the subject. Which was good, as he had no idea where that sentence had been going anyway. "That's why he didn't want you to leave for college. He needed you. Just like I did."

"But not anymore, right?"

"Okay, you're forgetting the dead guy factor in there." Dean said gently and smiled, trying desperately to get Sam to do so as well. "If the roles were reversed…"

"I thought you hated…"

Dean cut him off, making his gaze meaningful. "If the roles were reversed, I think you'd still be here too. I wouldn't have let you go."

"Why are you still here Dean?" Sam finally mustered the balls to ask the question. "You're dead."

"I'm here because you need me." He said simply, placing his hand on Sam's arm and squeezing it firmly. "I'm here, and I'm real, and I'll keep being here until you let go."

"What if I never do?" Sam said in a small voice, placing his hand over Dean's, needing to feel the solid flesh against his own. "What if I need you forever?"

"Then that's how long I'll stick around," Dean assured, slight smirk playing over his features again. "But I don't think you'll need me for that long. After all, it only took you eight years to learn how to sleep in your own bed."

Sam let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"Twelve before you stopped coming to me every time you had a nightmare." Dean's smile was real, and Sam savored the fact that his brother was still here with him.

"Nine or ten before you stopped beating up bullies for me." Sam added, sniffling slightly.

Dean just snorted. "Before you asked me to stop beating up bullies," he scoffed. "You think I actually stopped?"

Sam shot him a surprised, bemused look, to which Dean responded, "You think Tucker Clarence actually walked into a door?"

"You did that?" Sam made an amused 'humph' sound when Dean nodded, looking proud. "Thanks."

"Little bastard had it coming." He tossed Sam a lopsided grin. "You're welcome."

"So you're gonna be around as long as I need you?" Sam confirmed, not ready to believe that it was that easy.

"You bet, little brother." Dean smirked, and squeezed Sam's arm again. "Ain't nothing gonna keep me away."

Sam bit his lip. "Promise?" He hated how weak and pathetic his voice sounded, but he needed to hear it, needed to know for sure.

"Yeah, kiddo." Dean whispered. "I promise."

TBC...

R&R