Not going to lie, dealing with a bit of writer's block as of right now, but I've got a few things planned so it's just a matter of moving the story so that it happens. Thanks to DearHart, Celtic Knot, TXKimsonFan, and freetobescary for reviewing, you guys don't know how much it means to me :)

Still don't own anything Supernatural related. Well, show/character wise. T-shirt wise, yes I do.

Sam and Cas heard the shower turn on from Dean's room and it was then that they both let out a breath.

"How are we gonna do this, Cas? It'll be like remembering all over again that everyone is gone. He didn't take it well last time, and now coupled with all of this," Sam leaned his elbows against the table and massaged his head. That could have gone better for sure, but the truth had to come out sooner or later.

The angel across the table from him let out a similar sigh. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But…Dean is strong. He survived all of this once before, it's just a matter of reminding him about it I suppose."

Sam didn't have it in him to nod at the statement. "But before, he didn't learn about all the deaths at one time. And I can tell, he needs to ask about Lisa and Ben, but he can't," he shifted his hand to wipe it down his face before he shook his head.

"Like the doctor said, we have to try to not overwhelm him. A few facts at a time, coupled with maybe a few things that he ends up recalling," Cas shook his head as well. "We will figure it out, we have to."

Sam eventually nodded, because the only thing they could do was find a way to figure it out. Eventually they heard the shower turn off, and Sam waited a few minutes before he got up from his seat. "I'll go see if he wants something to eat," he shrugged. Sure, that was one part of the plan, the other was to make sure his brother wasn't currently falling apart like he had last time. Sam made an immediate mental note to hide some of the alcohol just in case.

"Dean?" he asked quietly before he nudged Dean's open door open a bit further. Dean wasn't in his room, which definitely had Sam worried, and he started going down towards the kitchen. When Dean wasn't there either, he continued down the hallways until he found him.

He was down one of the halls that they seldom even used because it was mostly just extra bedrooms, but he was standing and staring at a specific part of the wall with one hand on it.

"Dean?" he asked again, trying not to spook Dean as he came up behind him. It was only when he got around his brother's side that he could see what Dean was touching.

Beneath his fingertips was the gash in the wall that they had never covered because the hallway was so seldom used. They actively avoided it when they had to use it, which didn't happen all that often. It was the gash that could very well have been covered in Sam's blood had he not ducked quick enough underneath his demon brother's hammer wielding hand. A ball of worry immediately formed in his chest because Dean shouldn't be this interested in a mark on the wall that he knew nothing about.

But Dean eventually turned and looked at Sam with absolute horror and confusion in his eyes, a signal that he did in fact know something about the gash. Somewhere, in his messed up skull, his brain had decided to supply him with that memory of trying to kill his brother, but probably not the context that came with it.

The almost inaudible "Sammy?" that followed was one more nail in the coffin that made Sam sure that 'not overwhelming Dean' would be a hard thing to avoid.

Deaths, Sam could explain. A demon brother trying to kill the only family he had left? Where could Sam even begin to start?

He followed Dean's gaze back to his eyes, his tired, tired eyes that didn't deserve news or memory fragments like this. "Dean?" he asked in a voice nearly as quiet, and took a step forward. He could see Dean prep to take a step back, but he didn't. He eventually dropped his hand from the wall, and with it, his eyes fell to a spot on the floor.

"What…what did I do?" Sam wan't quite sure how to answer what comes out of his brother's mouth next; he doesn't know what Dean remembered, and it must come across because Dean added to it. "There was this…rage and at the same time…enjoyment," he cut out. "I went after you with a hammer, Sammy. I almost-" Dean stopped himself at that and shook his head.

Sam finally closed the distance with a single step and a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "You didn't, Dean. We can't deal in almosts right now with what you remember and what you don't. It ended fine, I'm fine, we're fine," Sam tried to assure, but the truth would eventually have to come out.

"Why? A…a spell? What the hell happened?" What could want to make me kill my own little brother and enjoy doing it? is the unspoken question that sits in both their minds even though it wasn't spoken aloud.

Sam eventually shook his head. "It, you, were a demon."

Dean started at the simple sentence, an added layer of horror crossing his face.

"You took on something called the Mark of Cain to help you kill a really, really bad demon. You eventually did…but you, uh, you died a little while afterwards. The Mark didn't like that, so your soul got twisted into a demon. But Cas and I, we cured you, and it was fine."

Sam could very quickly see that, no, it wasn't fine. Even for him, it wasn't fine, and it would never be fine. Getting Dean back to the bunker after what Metatron did was one of the worst drives of his life, and he nearly wished he could forget it.

But more than that, it was also physically not fine. The color began to drain from Dean's face, and it was all Sam could do to try and prop him up. Sam maneuvered them to his room, Dean complacent in his grasp, and sat them down on his bed.

When they sat down, Dean's gaze was staring absently at his right forearm where the mark had been for over a year. His fingers ghosted over the surface for a split second before his hands returned to his lap, clasped tighter than they needed to be. Sam wasn't sure if he remembered how the mark looked, or felt, or everything, or if maybe it was still a nervous tick that the red, angry mark still marred his skin in his mind.

"So, I got a pair of black peepers and tried to kill you and then I got cured," Dean eventually nodded slowly. "Should I be glad I got the spark notes version?"

"Dean, no, it's fine-"

"No, Sam, it's not fine! I tried to kill you!" His voice broke in the slightest as he uttered the last few words. His mission, his job, he had tried to end the only family he had left, and he didn't remember how or why, just that he had done the one thing he had sworn he'd never do, even under their dad's direct orders.

"And you've saved me probably a hundred other times after that, and a thousand before that. You weren't you, Dean, I knew that when and before it happened, I never blamed you, not ever."

But he could see in Dean's eyes that he didn't believe him.

"In the woods, I got shot last month," based on Dean's look, it's still a touchy subject, "and you got me out, Dean. You practically dragged me a mile through the forest, talking the whole time to keep me awake, and you kept my blood more or less where it belonged. You practically didn't leave the hospital at all until I got discharged. That's what you've done your whole life. What not-you did, wasn't you. You'd never hurt me like that, not ever," he annunciated the last few words more forcefully than the others, as if that could make them get into his brother's head more before he continued in a quieter tone. "I'm just sorry that you only remember that one event, no context, no nothing, and none of the somewhat decent events that followed."

Dean's head turned up at that.

"You saved the world, Dean. Sacrificed yourself again so people could live. And no, not another death to add to the list, but almost. It was…we'll get into it another time. That was you. That was Dean Winchester. The man that puts pretty much everything in front of himself. The thing that followed me through the bunker, that wasn't you."

And just like that, there was a small spark in Sam's mind, something that could maybe bring Dean around. Dean was still coming to terms with the fact that he had practically just let Sam jump into the pit, and now he had apparently tried to kill Sam. None of it was sitting well. But maybe…

Sam got down from the bed to grab the box from under it, to which Dean looked at curiously. He pulled it onto his lap as he sat back down on the bed. He opened it and moved a few papers around before he pulled it out.

It being the small golden amulet on the black string that Dean had thrown away all those years ago, probably just months ago for him. The amulet that just months ago for Sam, Dean had discovered he still had.

Dean's eyes immediately fell to the amulet in Sam's hands before he put the box on the other side of the bed. He reached out, as if to touch it, but drew his hand back.

"How did you…? You've had it all this time?" Time being months, years, whatever, it was still time.

"We weren't in a good place," Sam said slowly. "I pulled it out of the trash just in case, I don't know of what, but I couldn't bear the thought of it sitting in a junk heap somewhere. It means too much." Again, it meant a lot for various reasons that they could get into later.

After another few seconds of staring at it, Sam gestured towards Dean with it, and his older brother picked it up. He turned the small charm over in his hands, as if inspecting it to make sure that it was real.

"I shouldn't have thrown it away," he said it in a whisper and shook his head to go along with it.

Sam matched it with a shrug. "You were pissed. We weren't exactly in a good spot with the Apocalypse looming and everything. But honestly, it was just some angels probably messing with our heavens."

Dean looked up curiously at Sam, as if waiting for an explanation. "You really think none of my memories with you would be in heaven? Or that we wouldn't be stuck together for all eternity anyways?" It may have been years ago for Sam, but it had always sat uneasily with him, and he remembered it like it was yesterday. Going to heaven wasn't something one would forget, and the fallout afterwards from what they had experienced had cemented the event into Sam's head.

"I guess so," Dean replied, with an almost wistful look on his face, like he didn't quite believe Sam, not yet, but he desperately wanted to. "Doesn't erase the fact that I'm still sorry about it," he eventually admitted, his hand making a fist around the charm.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Dean," Sam said evenly. "Everyone does things they regret, now you don't have to anymore." He needed Dean to not regret something that was already years in the past, something that Dean himself couldn't comprehend yet. If Dean felt guilty for everything, which he had a tendency to do, he'd dig himself into a hole that Sam and Cas wouldn't be able to drag him out of.

Dean eventually nodded slowly, but he didn't go to put the charm over his head, not yet, he wasn't quite there. They sat in silence for a few moments before Dean stood up. "I'm…gonna grab some air. I'm assuming the staircase and door leads outside?"

Sam nodded back. Before he could open his mouth, Dean was already finishing getting rid of his worries. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured, "staying within shouting distance." With that, he grabbed a jacket from the chair in his room and shrugged it on, necklace still in his pocket, the familiar weight that felt almost alien at the same time.

He left Sam in the room and walked back towards the map room, casting Cas a smile as he passed. The stairs going up clanged of metal with his boots, and the door creaked when he opened it, but the slight tunnel did eventually lead to the outside. Dean tugged his jacket around him a bit tighter, as it was still cold outside, even in the setting sunlight. He climbed up the small set of stairs and then leaned against the railings in front of them, looking out at the sparse trees.

Dean let out a sigh, creating a white plume in front of his face as he did so. He pulled the necklace back out of his pocket, turning it over and over again in his hands. It took a few moments before he slipped it back over his head in the peace where Sam couldn't see just how much it still affected him.

It was, always had been, and always would be a sign of his relationship with his brother. He had gotten rid of the necklace once, and Sam had followed soon after. Those were two mistakes that he wouldn't be making again. The metal settled in the familiar spot on his chest and he nodded a bit to himself, as maybe things were a bit more right with their screwed up world now.

He just needed a few minutes to process, he told himself. He just needed to process.

The headache forming behind his eyes needed to fade so he could work through Bobby and apparently becoming a demon and everything else he should have remembered. Just processing, just processing, just going through the motions because once he figured it out things would be fine again. He'd get his memories back and they'd get back to hunting like normal. Things would be normal again…

Dean's chest rose and fell faster than he intended as his brain raced to catch up with everything that it couldn't. Seven years of everything that it couldn't. People and places and events-

And just like that, there was a hand on his shoulder. Dean turned, expecting to see Sam at his side, but he instead saw Cas, a look of worry on the angel's features.

"Hey, Cas," he greeted, voice cracking just a bit. As his brain calmed down, he realized how cold his hands were even in his pockets.

"I came to check, see how things are, it's been nearly twenty minutes," Cas supplied, which was definitely cause enough for worry when your brain damaged family member just wanders around. "So, how are things?" Cas took another step and leaned against the railing next to Dean, obviously doing his best to be supportive.

"How do ya think?" Dean asked with a bit of a forced laugh before he shook his head. "Apparently I was a demon, so…that's fantastic." He didn't have to turn to know that Cas' expression had hardened at that fact. He also didn't have to turn to know that the angel's eyes were on the amulet that had regained its position around his neck.

"It is a lot to deal with in a short span of time, Dean, no one would expect you to simply be alright with that fact," Cas brought up eventually. "It will take time to heal, but Dr. Monroe was confident that your memories would eventually come back."

"He say how long was eventually?" Dean was sure Monroe had mentioned it at one point, but it was easy for things to slip through the cracks in recent days.

"Anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, based on other cases, but each one is unique," Cas answered.

Dean nodded slowly at that. A few months, he could manage that long, right? They could go about building and fixing until he and his old body were back to normal. But at the same time…remembering flashes like attempting to kill Sam wouldn't be helpful. Maybe it was better if he knew the bad stuff going in? Or maybe not? He had no idea. But he turned to Cas, mouth open to ask a question, but closed it again.

"What is it, Dean?" Cas asked, looking a bit worried.

Dean looked at the ground for a few seconds before he brought his gaze back up. "Lisa…and Ben. They're okay, right? I don't want to be making breakfast one day and just get a flash of," he shook his head, not wanting to imagine it. "Just so I know what to expect if something does come on? So I'm not caught off guard." He needed to know what had happened to them, and he would, sooner or later, he just wasn't sure which was better.

Cas took his time in replying, obviously weighing a few options in his head. So the answer wasn't easy, which was great. "Generally speaking, I believe them to be okay," he assured. Dean went to let out a sigh of relief, but the angel's look had him holding it in.

"But what?" he asked slowly, because Cas was obviously holding something back.

"There was an…altercation. They got exposed to this life in a bad way, and you thought it would be best if I had them forget the scenario…" Cas paused for a moment, "as well as you, in order to keep them safe."

So…maybe it was better to know? Or not?

Dean blinked a few times and moved his hands to grab onto the railing at his sides as if it could anchor him down to reality. They didn't remember him, just like he didn't remember everything else. It was ironic, in a sense. "But they're okay?" he checked, just one more time, because in the end that was what mattered. If they didn't remember him and the dark universe he came from and they lived because of it, then it was worth it.

Cas nodded in affirmation, his expression a bit softer but no less worried. "They are, as far as I know."

"Okay," Dean replied as simply as he could. "All that matters."

A lot more mattered, but their safety came first. He hadn't wanted them to be dragged into the life, so he could make peace with the decision he had made years ago but only just learned about.

He wasn't sure how much longer they sat outside in silence, but eventually the sun set and the temperatures began to plummet. Cas suggested they go back inside, to which Dean agreed with a nod, and followed the angel back into the bunker.

Dean liked to pretend that he had left his problems and worried outside in the cold, but as he descended the metal staircase, he realized they were following him, like ghosts. Only they were ghosts he couldn't get to leave his mind with a torch or some salt. And yet, they were haunting him all the same.

I went back and forth on Dean finding out about Lisa and Ben for the longest time, so hopefully the thought process behind it seems alright. But let me know! Did it work out, not work out? And how does everyone feel about the return of the great Samulet? *because I want to know where it is again ahem writers you can't drop a bombshell like that on us and then forget about it*.