Back at the motel…

"You want to tell me how you started a bar brawl?" Sam said, using tweezers to pluck and a knife to gently scrap glass shards from Dean's forehead and hairline. Today had been a strange day and Sam had a nagging feeling in the back of his head like Dean was bothered by something important. And now, he was forced to sound like a scolding parent. A task he hated more than getting poked in the eye with a sharp, hot stick. "Ahem…" Sam cleared his throat, waiting for a response.

Slowly, so as not to cause anymore pain in abs, Dean turned his head in the direction of the sound and was not thrilled with Sam's expression.

"How bad are you?" Sam asked.

"Unnn…." Dean groaned before he answered. "Somewhere between holy shit and did you get the number of that truck."

"Guess, I should get you to the ER..."

"Nah...Just a bruised ego more than anything." Dean lied, feeling the aftermath of the bar fight more than acutely.

"More like cracked ribs, busted lip, concussion, black eye and some embedded glass. When you left, you were supposed to pick up dinner and get back here." Sam continued.

"So I took the scenic route."

"And the tour included a free beating with every purchase."

"Just goes to show you, you should always read the fine print."

"This is not the time for jokes. Have you looked at yourself? You look like holy hell."

"Thanks. I was minding my own business and..."

"Hustling pool…"

"Doing some shots... hmmmm…. Hillbilly asskickers…who names theses drinks…mind you, they weren't half bad."

"And you decided to get a taste of the real thing."

"That sounds so dirty Sam. Hold me."

"Arggg…hmmpph …You're such an ass." Sam made a resentful noise and started to really tell Dean what for, but his brother was trying to move too much.

One second later, Sam issued demands. "Don't move." Even without psychic abilities, Sam could tell Dean was in a good deal of pain. "Lay back down or I'll tie you down. You'll be laid up for a few days at least." Sam drifted into the bathroom, tossing away the bloodied cloths and glass fragments.

"Again… That's a little dirty coming out of your mouth….Ewwww." Dean closed his eyes, even the half swollen one. "Arrrrgh…" he muttered a few inaudible curse words when he felt a sudden pang pain.

When Sam returned to Dean's side, he placed some supplies on the small nightstand. "Here!" Sam's hand jutted out, shaking a pill bottle.

"WHAT!"

"Take these," he ordered, serving up four rather large, white pills.

"Damn, I hoped for purple ones."

"Got you some water." Ignoring his brother's snark, Sam tried to offer assistance.

"I got in a fight, I ain't a wimp."

"Suit yourself." Sam retorted, holding out the cup of water.

Dean leaned forward enough to take the obvious pain pills and the pain in his ribs strangled his words for a moment. "Okay, I'm dying!"

"Shut up, you are not."

"Oh yeah I am …. And I'm stuck with Ward Clever…" Dean groaned, spreading out on the motel bed.

"I'm not Ward Cle….."

"Well you're not funny enough to be Cosby."He leaned further forward, taking the pills and water under his own power. He swallowed hard, and then attempted to get up, but was stopped by the pain in his side as well as Sam's hand. Dean closed his eyes and coughed with enough force to lift an inch from his bed. His ribs tightened, searing with pain. "Christ, just kill me now." He uttered, flopping back

"You could drive Christ crazy and it looks like he would have to wait in line for the other guys who beat your ass. Hope the hustle was worth all this pain."

"I'm fine."

Sam's eyebrow was raised in doubt. "You're fine? You're hopeless!" Sam snort softly "You can't go off picking fights by yourself… "

"Three against one was a fair fight, but it got a lot more involved with a lot more locals."

"So one yahoo wasn't enough and you decided to fight both the Hatfield's and McCoy's."

"Sure as hell feels like that way and the last thing I need is a lecture from you. This was every man for himself."

"I know," Sam called back, leaving Dean's side. "But you're still a mess."

The room was silent for a few second before something cold and damp flopped over Dean's forehead. Never underestimate a cool washcloth to bring a small measure of relief. "Enough overdone drama… I've been hurt before. I know when I'm fine and not fine." Dean chided and smiled, but the second Sam wasn't looking, the smile faded. He rubbed his eyes wearily, and took a shuddering breath. His body hurt like hell. Years of pain had given him some immunity to injuries and discomfort, but even he couldn't ignore cracked ribs and a screaming noggin. Never in his life had he been so thankful for the dulling of pain medications. "They get it all?"

"I don't see a spot you didn't get knocked…"

"I meant the money." Dean confirmed.

" 'Fraid so."

"I still would like the wallet back."

"I got it, but it's destroyed...your fake id and money……Everything's gone."

"EVERYT..." He said loudly and stopped with a cough, clearing his throat as it squeaked. Speaking again, he attempted to sound calmer and smoother. "Everything?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing... but there wasn't anything in there... not a piece of paper...uh...a card...nothing?"

"An empty wallet as empty as your head..."

"Watch it!"

"...tonight, anyway."

"Hey, Sam... Let's go back and teach those yahoos some manners! What do you say? Huh?"

"How much money did you have before you went in?"

"40 bucks." Dean laughed.

"Not worth you getting killed over."

"But I won 300...fair and..."

"Crooked."

"It's a skill!" Dean grinned and moved his head a bit too much. "ARGGG..."

"I rest my case."

"Thanks for the opinion, Perry Mason." Dean looked perplexed, searching for something to say that would seem a logical to go back to the Empty Glass.

"Did you lose something else?" Sam questioned, noticing the odd behavior.

"Uhh... No... uh... Hell no! I just... you're right- probably not worth the effort. Got any painkillers the size of Texas?"

"You just took four!"

"Don't do me any favors." Dean retorted.

"I pulled you of the ground didn't I? I've gotten kinda used to having you around to push me… annoy me…"

"Dude, I'm bleeding here… you could… You know what…. I'm going to get some sleep and when and if YOU DECIDE something important is happening, you let me know. Cause you're attitude- IT SUCKS!"

Sam shook his head, knowing once Dean fell to sleep, he would be out for hours. As argumentative and playful as Dean seemed, somewhere there was real pain and bruised pride. This time, Sam let his brother have the last word. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there something bothering you about what happened tonight?" Sam asked calmly and seriously.

"Nah, it's stupid…. Just foolish pride, I guess."

"You would tell me? Right?"

"Yeah… YEAH… Sure. I'm not thinking clearly- Beer- shooters- Yahoos- and Kung Fu Fighting are not a good mix."

"You sure that's all it is."

"Uh... yeah… anyway, it's nothing I want to get you in a mess about. Stupid…"

From the delay in Dean's reaction, Sam surmised something definitely was wrong or something important was lost, but Dean didn't want to admit what it was. For the life of him, Sam couldn't imagine what could be so important in wallet- some picture? After all of the things they had been through, Dean could have just said what was bothering him. "You sure?"

"Aahh...oh, yeah...you know... just showin' off by getting even. Would be better odds with two of us, but it's not important." Dean blew it off way too easily.