Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: Sorry, this chapter was a little delayed, but it couldn't be helped. I had an unexpected life delay.

Thank you for all of the reviews and comments I received so far over the other chapters. Please, continue to leave your thoughts. Read and Review!

Chapter Eight

Both Sides Now

By Dawn Nyberg

So many things I would have done, but clouds got in the way … I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down … I've looked at love from both sides now, from give and take … I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose, and still somehow … It's life's illusions I recall … Something's lost, but something's gained in living every day … Lyric excerpt by Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

Three Weeks Later, Ivy Ridge Rehab Center

"Hi Dean," Carrie the bubbly receptionist from the front lobby visitor's check-in desk motioned to Dean as he walked into the center.

"Hi Carrie," he could see she was holding a priority mail envelope.

"Something came to the center for you. It arrived earlier."

"For me," he eyed it suspiciously.

"Well, it's in your name, but your brother's name is on it too, I suspect to make sure it was accepted."

"Thanks Carrie," Dean replied as he took the hard envelope.

"You're welcome."

Dean stopped halfway to his brother's room and stepped off to a small sitting area to open the envelope. It had no return address, but he recognized the handwriting, and knew it was from his father. He let out a loud sigh as he opened it. There was one part of him that wanted to throw it away without looking, but for John Winchester to spring for priority mail, maybe it was worth a look. He hadn't heard from his father since they parted ways in the hospital. And, Sam had been in Ivy Ridge for three weeks all ready, and Dean was making long term plans to stay, so he knew the extended stay hotel wasn't going to work much longer. He opened the envelope, and pulled out a short scribbled letter with another smaller brown envelope with a closed metal clasp securing whatever contents it held. He read the letter:

Dean,

I'm sorry with the way I left things, but done is done, I suspect. I know things are going to be difficult on your end with money and lodging. I know you're going to probably have to get work, and anyway, I wanted to tell you I spoke with Larry at the garage before I left town, and told him you may or may not stop by, but anyway there is a job there for you should you need one. He said to come by if you want. Look, I called in some favors and some contacts, and anyway, I thought things would be easier for you if you didn't have to hide under fake ID's. You can be Dean Winchester again. I know you've been using your real name at the rehab, but I thought this may come in handy. I pulled some strings, and used up about a half dozen owed favors, but anyway, long story short, it wasn't Dean Winchester that died in St. Louis suspected of murder, but his twin brother, Sean. I won't go into the details because it's not important, but you're you again. Inside the envelope is the police paperwork, your birth certificate, a new copy of your social security card just in case you need it, and also Sammy's birth certificate should you need it for anything. And, I had a friend that doctored and even filed a fake birth certificate for your "brother Sean", so there shouldn't be any questions. You're free to be Dean Winchester again. And, I spoke with Bobby and he told me he was able to tow the Impala to you on a flat bed. He said it was fixed, and I'm glad you have one less thing to worry about. Tell Sammy I said Hi.

Take care.

Dad

Dean stared at the letter for a long moment and then opened up the other envelope, and all the paperwork his dad had listed was enclosed, and he was happy that in deed he was no longer a presumed dead fugitive. He could start using his real ID again when he needed to without worry of being hauled off to jail. And, also in with the papers was money held together with a paper clip and a post-it note that said, it isn't as much as I would have liked, but I thought it could help. It was $400 in cash. Dean idly glanced at the fake birth certificate of his fake twin: Sean Michael Winchester born January 24, 1979 at 8:06 AM, Lawrence, Kansas. And, then he glanced at his own birth certificate: Dean Aaron Winchester born January 24, 1979 at 8:10 AM, Lawrence, Kansas. He shook his head with a mixture of wry humor and irritation, figures he'd make me younger, he grumbled in his own mind. However, it didn't escape Dean's attention that his fake brother's first name was a combination of Sam's and his own.

He put the money in his wallet, and folded up the papers back into the envelope and headed for Sam's room. He glanced at his watch and knew that Sam's personal PT would be in his room. He liked the older man. His name was Melvin Dupree; he was a tall African American man in his mid forties with a quick wit and gentle smile. He had been quick to introduce himself to Dean and Sam, and had quickly told Dean to call him Mel.

"Hey Mel," Dean said with a smile as he entered the room.

"Hey yourself," the man answered as he continued Sam's PT. "We're doing our morning yoga," he quipped. Dean chuckled. "I'm just about done. I would have taken Sam to the gym for his leg exercises, but they are cleaning the floors right now." Dean nodded. Mel placed Sam's leg back down, and pulled the covers back over him, and proceeded to write his care notes at Sam's bedside in his PT file. Dean put the envelope down on a small corner table near the bay window, and turned to look at Sam, but something caught his attention. He studied his little brother for a moment. Sam's eyes were fixed on the ceiling fan as it spun its circular revolutions. And, Dean was certain that Sam was actually looking at it.

"Ah, Mel," his voice sounding hesitant, as if speaking too loud or actually saying what he thought he was seeing would make it disappear.

"Yep," he said looking up at Dean as he stopped writing.

"Do you see what I'm seeing?" And, Mel followed Dean's eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," he replied. "Let me check something." He proceeded to go turn off the switch to the fan, and when it wasn't stopping fast enough for the older man he reached a hand up to still the rotating blades. And both Mel and Dean watched in rapped awe as Sam's eyes drifted away from the fan to stare off at the distant wall. Mel walked back over to the switch and started the fan up again, and they watched Sam's eyes engage the fan's movement once again, and watch it spin.

"What's that mean?" Dean's voice hitched in excitement. "I mean, he's seeing the fan, right? He's watching it." Mel smiled and nodded.

"He's beginning to notice his environment. The motion is stimulating him visually. Hey, I have an idea," Mel suggested. "Let me go grab something I'll be right back." Dean nodded and went to Sam's bedside.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean's voice was jovial. He tried to get Sam to look at him, to see him, but he only seemed to want to watch the fan rotate. "Hey," Dean quipped as he ran a hand through his brother's unruly bangs. "Man, now why weren't you that easy to entertain as a kid?" He tried to make a joke. Part of him was ecstatic that his brother had made an obvious improvement that the hospital had claimed he wouldn't, and then part of him was still sad by the simple fact his little brother was intrigued with a ceiling fan. "I'm proud of you Sammy," Dean comforted as Sam continued to watch the fan.

"Okay," Mel said as he walked back into the room with a small item that resembled a small desk fan, but wasn't a fan when Dean took a closer look. "Let's see what he thinks of this."

"What is it?"

"A light pattern stimulator."

"Huh?"

"Here, first let's get him turned, okay," Mel suggested. "It's time anyway." Once they had Sam comfortably on his side Mel brought the rolling bedside table over to the side Sam was looking at the wall. He turned on the small device and a light board came to life with colorful, alternating light patterns that created various different moving light patterns. Sam's eyes drifted toward the moving lights and his eyes were captivated by the light, color, and movement. "This will activate more parts of his brain than the ceiling fan will. This is additional therapy of sorts, okay?"

"How long can he watch?"

"How about we let him do this for an hour, okay? But, he may tire of it before then and look away," Mel suggested. "I can set a timer, and when it stops, it'll be time to turn him again, and he'll probably sleep. This may not seem like a lot Dean," Mel began. "But this is a big step on Sam's part."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I knew he had it in him."

Dean settled down in the chair next to Sam's bed after Mel left. He would have water therapy a little later in the day. "Hey Sammy," Dean began. "I might have to cut my visit a little short today because I have an appointment to look at a studio apartment about eight minutes from here, and then I'm driving into town to look into a job at an auto garage. I think we're going to be here for a while, and I think your big brother here is actually going to have to earn an honest living and work." Dean chuckled lightly. "I mean, really Sammy that alone is worth getting better for … seeing me do something close to a 9 to 5, or whatever I end up working. I think this Larry guy will be flexible since he knows our situation." Dean paused a moment and then stood up. He gently ran a hand over his brother's face, "it's a good thing you take forever to grow a beard Sammy. I've only had to shave your peach fuzz once since you've been here."

Dean stayed with Sam until it was time for his water therapy. He was scheduled for both pool and hydrotherapy today. And, Mel would come back for another hour of PT later in the day before they gave Sam a bath and washed his hair. Dean had told the staff he would shave his own brother's face as needed, and they had obliged.

Meanwhile, Jefferson City Auto Repair

"Your Dad told me you may be stopping by," Larry smiled and offered his hand. "He also told me you're an excellent body repair man, and can rebuild a transmission as good as he can, that true?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered honestly. "My dad always made sure we knew our way around a car."

"Call me Larry," the man insisted. "Yeah, your dad told me he co-owned a shop when you and your brother were little."

"Yes, until our mother died, and then he left the shop," Dean didn't offer any more information. Larry's face was solemn.

"Yeah, your dad mentioned something about that … look I know your situation with your brother, younger right?"

"Yeah, I'm four years older."

"I can pay you under the table or official if you like. That is if you want the job. I know you need some flexibility, so there's no problem there."

"Thanks I'd love a job. I looked at a studio apartment in Elston where my brother's rehab is, and gave them a deposit on a furnished one, and a job is just what I need." Dean was had been happy to find out that all utilities were included with the rent except phone, and he had his cell for that.

"Elston, huh? Nice little city," Larry commented. "Quiet. So, your brother's at that fancy rehab center, eh?"

"They're one of the best." Dean commented. "And the rent in Elston is pretty cheap."

Larry nodded. "So, you want under the table or on the payroll Dean?"

"Put me on the payroll Larry. I figure the tax refund might come in handy at the beginning of next year."

"Oh, before I forget, your dad was pretty sure you'd show up, so he wanted me to hold on to his last pay for you. He asked that I hold it back and said you'd probably need it." Larry handed Dean an envelope. "He did a couple rebuilds, and some body work before he left the city."

"Thanks." Dean didn't open the envelope. "What kind of schedule do you need me to work?"

"Can you do Monday through Thursday 8:00 to 4:00? I figure that will leave your evenings free to be with your brother, and you can have Friday through Sunday off to be with him or take care of other business."

"That'd be great Larry, thanks. When do you want me to start?"

"Well, its' Wednesday all ready, how about you start next Monday?"

"Sounds good." Dean filled out some employee paperwork for Larry and gave him his address and cell number. Dean actually felt a bit of relief to be writing down an actual address for a change. He had a place to live and once Sammy was back with him, it would be a home. Of course, he knew he'd need a bigger place before Sam could ever come to live with him. He wrote down: 1020 Sparrow Drive, Apt. 10 B. Elston, Missouri.

Week Four, Ivy Ridge Rehab

Dean had fallen into a regular routine of work and visit Sam. It was Friday and he had the whole day to see Sam or do whatever he needed to do. The $1200 dollars that ended up being in that envelope Larry had given him paid up his rent for three months. His first week at the shop had been busy, but good.

"Sammy," Dean began as he fixed Sam's blanket and sheet. "Mel should be here in a while. Today, he's taking you to the gym to work your muscles out on the mats." Dean went about fixing corners and talking about whatever came to his mind. He hadn't noticed two very curious eyes watching his every move. Dean glanced down at Sam for a second, and nearly gasped. Sam was looking at him, and his eyes moved as they tracked Dean's movements. "Sammy?" Dean smiled at him. Sam continued to study him with wide and curious eyes. "Hey there, little brother." Mel walked in and saw the obvious interaction.

"How long?" Mel's deep voice came from beside Sam's bed.

"Just now," Dean answered excitedly. "Sammy, this is Mel." Dean thought his chest would explode when Sam turned his head, albeit in a jerky, uncoordinated way, but he moved and looked at Mel. Sam made a small noise inside his throat, but he didn't speak. Dean felt hot tears sting his eyes, but didn't fall.

"Well, well, little man, look at you," Mel replied with a smile. Dean was smiling so wide that his jaw hurt. Suddenly, Sam raised an uncoordinated hand toward his face and in a half hazard way rubbed an itch on his nose.

"He just … did you see?" Dean's mind was processing so many thoughts at once he couldn't form a complete thought.

"Yes," Mel confirmed. "Had an itch, huh, buddy? And, because he made a vocal noise they can start him on speech therapy now, too." Sam's eyes were clear and focused on both men. They held the look of curiosity that Dean remembered from Sam's early years when he would toddle around motel rooms exploring everything and it all had a sense of wonder to the kid. Dean smiled at a quick memory of how much Sam loved the feel and look of shag carpet when he was three.

Two Months Later

Sam had made major moves in the last month. His rehab with Mel was going much better. He would actually push back against Mel when he asked Sam to, and he could follow commands. Mel had explained that Sam was suffering from a form of paraparesis, and the word had seemed daunting to Dean until the man had explained it simply to him. It just meant that Sam was suffering from weakness in his lower limbs. However, after a month he was learning to stand again, and bear weight on his legs, but he hadn't been able to walk yet, however, Mel had assured that he would once his brain and legs were on civil terms once again. The man's humor was always a bright spot. Sam no longer required IV nutrition, and Dr. Myers had had the TPN IV removed. He couldn't feed himself yet, but allowed himself to be fed. Dean's mind recounted details of his brother's rehab as he worked on a transmission of a Ford F-150. He glanced at his watch and knew that April would be doing Sam's speech therapy right about now. He shook his head lightly as he considered how maybe under different circumstances he and April would all ready be an item or at the least casual lovers by now, but he had decided he needed to focus his priorities on his brother and working this job.

Although, April had persuaded him once or twice to grab a movie and some food to just decompress as she liked to put it, but somehow he always returned back to his apartment and felt guilty that his brother was where he was and missing out on life, or at least the life he had before everything went to shit six months ago when he collapsed. April had been understanding, and never pressed the issue of seeing each other, and she seemed to accept that despite the mutual attraction they both had; now, it was simply just bad timing on both their parts. Dean slid under the truck to finish the job.

Meanwhile, at Ivy Ridge

"Almost Sam," April encouraged. "What is this?" She held up a picture card and this one was from the food deck. "Try again."

"B..B," Sam struggled with his letters. The sound stuttered in his mouth. His frustration was evident in his creased brow. "Nana." April smiled.

"You're almost there," she urged. "Now, try it all together." Sam looked at her determined and took a long steady breath.

"Banana," it came out quietly and was tentative, but it was the word. "No more. Done." Sam had acquired a good deal of his conversational speech, albeit broken at times, but it was when it came to certain vocabulary words that he had trouble. When he had first begun his speaking efforts he had a severe to profound paraphasic speech problem. April thought back to when she had to tell Dean that this problem of substituting wrong words in place of the intended word could be permanent the older brother had simply said Sammy is like a dictionary, or at least he was before, well, you know, and he will be again. Just be patient with him. She remembered Dean's absolute faith in his younger brother, and it made her smile. It hadn't been easy when Sam first started; he would look at a picture of a chair and say bed, or look at a tree and say something like free. But, one day it was clear the problem was abating, and he was simply left with reacquiring proficient speech.

"Sam can you read this sentence I wrote on this card? And answer it for me?"

She could see his mind working and she knew it may be too soon, but she had to try. She wanted to engage more of his cognitive brain. He frowned at the card. "No read. Don't want."

"Sam you remember our deal don't you? No more broken sentences," April prompted. "If you can't read this then tell me you can't or if you don't want to try right now then tell me that." He let out a loud sigh, and his hand fisted into the blanket of his bed.

"I no want read." He struggled with those words. April knew that the grammatical errors would recede with more therapy, but she was happy that he had made an attempt at better expression.

"Sam?" April liked to quiz him on memories to see what he remembered and what he didn't. The only thing Dean had wanted to know to be sure of is that his little brother did remember him, and April had assured him he did. Sam looked at her with expectant eyes. "Sam, do you have a family?" He nodded. "How many not counting you?"

He picked up a jerky hand as his motor skills still had trouble. He indicated the answer with two fingers. "Say how many."

"T..T..Two," he breathed out through a hesitant stutter.

"Good."

"Ap…" Sam struggled with her name. He had never engaged in speaking first and it surprised her. She had talked to Dean the other day when he had expressed he was worried that Sam never really tried to speak to him, but gave short answers. And, one thing that bothered Dean more than anything, April knew, was that Sam had never said his name since coming out of the coma fully. And, she knew that the older brother was desperate to hear his little brother say his name, if just to confirm to him that his brother was truly here.

"Yes, Sam?" He shook his head slightly and she knew she wasn't going to get anything out of him. "You sure? I'm listening." He nodded. Mel walked into the room.

"Hey Sam! You talkin' April's ear off today?" He looked from Sam to April.

"Well, you know him," she commented with a wry smile. "He's the proverbial silent one."

"Now, Sam, my man," Mel chided in a good humored way. "I thought we talked about this buddy and I know the words aren't sounding like you're used to, but that will only improve if you talk and do your therapy."

"I try," Sam's answers although short was understood.

"But?" Mel probed.

"Sound stupid. I not dumb." Mel smiled.

"No one said you were dumb, kiddo. Look you can't be so hard on yourself, okay? Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day. You hearin' me?" Sam nodded with hesitation. "I mean it Sam, give yourself some slack."

"Words," Sam began. "All wrong when speak. Know … not right." The words rushed out of his mouth as Mel and April listened.

"Hey, hey," April tried to calm him. "Sam just relax, okay? Listen to Mel. He's right you know … no one thinks you're dumb or sound stupid. And, if you just slow down your words will fall into place." Sam shook his head in frustration. He could hear the words coming out of his mouth as he struggled to form them, and it bothered him that the way they sounded in his head never came out the same way. "Just slow down Sam." The young man just stared at his two therapists.

"Look Sam," Mel tried to calm the situation before Sam became too upset to do any PT. "April is all finished for the day, right?" He looked at April.

"Yes, we're finished Sam. You can take a break. I'll be back on Saturday."

"Good, let's get you out of bed," Mel suggested, and get you to the gym. He helped Sam out of the bed and into a wheelchair. Sam was dressed in blue sweat pants and a gray t-shirt with a Led Zeppelin logo. "Zeppelin, eh? Aren't you a little young to be a fan?" Sam just shrugged. "Cat got your tongue? I mean just 'cause we're not doing the speech therapy thing anymore today doesn't mean you have to be mute." Mel smiled. "Let me guess, these are some clothes that brother of yours brought over, huh?" Sam nodded.

"Bought for me at store … in town."

"Well, well, the mime can speak after all. And, see how well that went kiddo." Sam offered a small smile.

"What we do today?"

"Today we're going to do your regular PT. And, I think today's the day to try and take some steps as I help. And, you get some occupational therapy today. The sooner we get your finer motor skills fine tuned the faster you'll be able to hold a fork or spoon to feed yourself. That'll be nice, huh? And, you have pool therapy today at 2:00."

"No like blocks," Sam's brow was creased.

"Blocks? You mean the peg and block board Darlene has you do during some of your occupational therapy?" Sam nodded. "Why?"

"Not a baby. Blocks for babies and kids."

"Fair enough," Mel relented. "But, they are helping you Sam more than you know. I get that you don't like them, but they are helping. Trust me, all right? Haven't I always been straight with you?"

"I … trust you. Still not like blocks." Mel chuckled.

"You're a stubborn one aren't you? Look I'll talk to Darlene and see if she can come up with something different, but if she says this is the best way for now, you stick with it, agreed?"

"Okay." Sam answered simply.

"All right, let's get a move on. The days a wasting."

Meanwhile, Jefferson City Auto Repair

"Hey Dean?" Larry chimed in as he entered the back end of the garage.

"Yeah, under here," Dean called out from below a truck. He rolled out and looked up at the man. "What's up?"

"How close are you to finishing this clunker up?" Dean smiled.

"Another ten minutes ought to do it? Why Mr. Jasper riding your ass to get it back?"

"No, that old coot could care less. I was just thinking today's your kid brother's birthday, right?"

"Yeah," Dean was wondering where this was going. Larry looked at his watch before speaking.

"I was just thinking that maybe you'd like to cut out of here an hour early, and do whatever you have planned. I mean, I just figured you probably had some kind of plans for him, right?" He smiled knowing all to well that Dean most likely did.

"Yeah, I did," Dean spoke with a broad smile. "I won't be putting you out?"

"Nah, finish up here, and all's good. And, well, since it's Thursday, I won't see you till Monday, and I thought I'd save you a trip into the city and give you your paycheck a day early." He handed it to Dean.

"Thanks Larry."

"Not a problem. Hey, how old is your kid brother today, anyway?"

"Twenty-four," Dean answered.

"Man, to be that young again," Larry mused.

"Well, you're not exactly collecting social security yet Larry," Dean laughed.

Dean drove through Jefferson and stopped at Emily's Bakery and Confections store. "May I help you?" A middle-aged woman asked from behind the counter.

"Yeah, could I get a couple cupcakes?" Dean asked.

"Sure, vanilla or chocolate icing?"

"Both chocolate, and do you sell birthday candles by any chance?"

"Sure, there in packs of 10 … they're over there on the spinning rack. I'll box the cupcakes up for you."

"Thanks," Dean answered, as he walked over to grab a pack of candles. Dean planned to stop at the bank and make a deposit and get some cash back from his pay check. It was still a strange thing to him that he actually had a bank account now, and received paychecks. He had suddenly found himself being very responsible, and the truth be known he was completely kept busy with work and Sam's rehab that he never really thought about hunting that much. Sure there were some nights on the weekends when cable would play some cheesy horror movie, and it would stir that inner fire to hunt, but he had his priorities right now, and hunting wasn't even a blip on the radar. He wanted to run home and shower before he saw Sam. He never went to see Sam still dirty and in his mechanic overall's.

He was always eager to see Sammy at the end of a long day at the shop. He was still elated over the conversation he had had with Sam's doctor, Dr. Myers, and she was thrilled with Sam's progress, although she was always careful to tell him that she was optimistically guarded when it came to defining Sam's potential progress. He had improved by leaps and bounds as far as Dean considered his brother's recovery, and even though he knew Dr. Myers was a positive person, otherwise, he knows he may never have found a place to take Sam. He knows she believes in his little brother enough to give him the best foot forward.

Dean still went to bed troubled at night by the fact that Sam never calls him by name, and despite the doctor and therapists saying they were certain that Sam did in fact remember his brother; he himself sometimes wondered if Sam truly did know who he was. Sure Sam seemed to acknowledge the use of the word brother, and when questioned about family, he always answered in the affirmative. But, he just wished he could go home one night knowing for sure, but when he was with Sam and saw him trying so hard to reclaim what he had lost, he could only be proud of his little brother, and whether or not Sam would ever say his name didn't matter so much.

Ivy Ridge, Early Evening

Dean breezed into Sam's room with a quick knock to alert his brother to his arrival. The TV was on and Sam turned his head away from the program on.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean said with a big smile. "You had a big day today with a lot of your therapies, huh?"

"Yes."

"Did they go okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah," Dean replied casually. "That's good." Dean pulled a rolling bedside side table over to Sam, and put the box down. "I got you something Sammy." Dean opened the box and displayed two chocolate covered cupcakes. He pulled out the one and put it on a paper towel. He proceeded to open the box of candles and put a single candle in the cupcake and light the candle. "Happy Birthday Sammy," Dean said with a warm smile. "Shh," Dean said with a mischievous grin watching the door. "Now, you make a quick wish Sammy before they catch us with a lit candle." Sam awarded Dean with that lopsided grin that pulled at his heart strings. Damn, I love this kid, he thought to himself.

Sam blew out the candle and Dean couldn't help, but note that his little brother seemed so happy over such a small gesture. Sometimes it struck him at how wide-eyed and new Sam seemed to take some things. "Here," Dean took a plastic knife and proceeded to cut the cupcake into four equal sections to make it easier for Sam to handle with his fingers. He wasn't able to handle silverware yet, and was fed at meal time, but he seemed to have a handle on finger foods. "Go ahead and use your hands Sammy, its' okay," Dean encouraged. Sam eyed him and looked pensive. "What's wrong?"

"Buy two. Why no eat?" Dean grinned.

"Nothing gets by you does it Sherlock? I'm going to take that one back to the apartment for later."

"Want some?" Sam motioned to his four pieces of cupcake.

"Nah, kiddo, that's for you. I'm good." Sam smiled and went to eat a piece, but a small muscle spasm in his wrist caused his hand to jerk at the last moment and he missed his mouth and hit his left cheek smearing the chocolate icing. Dean saw the instant anger bubble up in his brother. "Hey, hey," he encouraged. "Not a problem."

"Idiot … no feed self … I … I …" he stammered the words out in a frustrated rush. And, the only way he could think to discharge this rage came out in one small action; he threw the remnants of the squashed cupcake piece in his hand to the floor. "Shit," he said very clearly.

"Sammy, it's okay, man … accidents happen you know. Hey, when your muscles get more therapy those spasms will quiet down," Dean encouraged. "Remember Mel said so. It'll get better Sam. And, I don't want to hear you calling yourself an idiot, okay? I'm not kidding." Dean bent down to clean the crumbs off the floor with a wet paper towel, and tossed the trash in the nearest bin. "Now," he said turning to his brother who sat dejectedly staring at his hands; his left cheek still bore the chocolate smear. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up, so you can eat that cupcake." Dean thought nothing of it as he wet a new paper towel and wiped the sticky sweetness off his brother's face. Sam allowed him, but kept his eyes down. "It really is okay Sammy," Dean assured. And, just as Dean started to turn to throw the paper towel away Sam spoke slowly and deliberately, and the words were undeniable.

"Thanks Dean."

Dean never anticipated the key to the dam holding back months and months of emotions over his brother and what had happened would break under two simple words combined into a lethal punch, as Dean Winchester's well guarded mask crumbled, and he cried.

To Be Continued

Okay, you'll have to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it was a little late coming, but I've been detained by some life events that prevented me from writing, but as soon as I could I tried to whip out a chunky chapter for you. Like it? Bored stiff? Keep going? Give up? Hate it? Let me know your thoughts. Thanks in advance for taking the time to leave a review! And, thanks for sticking with the story, thus far.