It seems as though every weekend lately I've been super busy or had some craziness happen. This weekend my sister is in town, so I haven't had an opportunity to reply back to the reviews, but I did find a few minutes to proof this chapter and post it. Just know that once again I really really appreciate all your kind and thoughtful reviews and comments. I eagerly read every last one of them. Thanks so much. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you have the others. You all are far too kind.

Sam was back in the driver's seat, sitting rigid and tense, one hand clenching tightly to the steering wheel while the other held equally tight to the twin envelopes holding the information to their deeds. He hazarded a glance over to Dean, finding his brother still sitting in the same position he'd fallen into just after he huffed out to the car from the attorney's office. Shoulder's slumped, arms in his lap - hands face up, eyes straight ahead but seeing nothing.

It had taken everything Sam had in him to convince his brother that they were deserving of the money their grandfather had left them, despite his protests to the contrary. And even then, he knew Dean had finally given in only because he was tired of arguing in front of a perfect stranger. Dean had been quick to insist that they didn't even know the guy, and for all intents and purposes they had practically abandoned the man.

We didn't even know he existed, Sam had protested. How can you possibly blame yourself for something that Dad kept from us. If our grandfather wanted to leave us some money for the future, he had every right to do so. And his reasoning was sound. Besides, Dean, he's dead now. He can't take it back, so why shouldn't we have it?

It had taken saying those same words over and over again, changing the tone, to finally get Dean do agree. Although, it was really less agreement and more relenting as Dean had huffily asked the attorney if they actually had to cash out the bonds just because they took the paperwork. It was only after the man had assured them that they never had to be cashed if that was what he desired before he was willing to offer a grumpy 'fine. We'll take the damn deeds.' He had yet to seem accepting of it, and he wouldn't talk about it. And upon returning to the car he hadn't even made an attempt to take the driver's seat before slumping in the passenger seat. Sam had noticed Dean biting his lip to keep a yelp at bay as he pulled the prosthetic from his very swollen stump, and Sam had winced right along with him, but said nothing. Instead, stopping at the nearest gas station on their way out of town and collecting a bag of ice, silently tossing it at his sullen brother before pulling onto the main road. To Dean's credit, he merely rolled his eyes once before making use of the ice.

More than half the ride was spent in utter silence, without even the crooning of the radio to keep them occupied. And then, as though a switch had been flipped, Dean came back to life and worry dominated his features as he turned his body toward Sam.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Dean asked quietly, keeping his voice level.

Sam practically gave himself whiplash, his head swivelled so fast to meet Dean's eyes. "Nothing," he protested too quickly as he looked back to the road again before Dean could watch his face and read his eyes. "Why?"

"You haven't been yourself since I...since I...since Algonquin," he pressed, unable to say the words he'd tried to voice. "And you look about ready to twist that steering wheel into a pretzel you're holding it so tight." Dean tried to make his voice sound light and easy, talk to me Sammy, I can help, but there was still a hint of if you hurt my car, I swear...

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine."

"Really?" Dean looked skeptical about the response, and Sam could feel his brother's eyes boring into the side of his head. "Because you've been tiptoeing around me for the last several weeks as though I might break, and then just a few days ago you started getting all jumpy, too. You can't tell me nothing's wrong."

"I can, because I am. Just drop it, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, complete exasperation over Sam's denial written plainly across his face and in his voice. "You're a terrible liar, Sammy. You know that?"

Sam pursed his lips and stiffened, keeping his eyes focused stubbornly on the road.

"Now, you're either gonna tell me what's going on, or I'm gonna have to beat it out of you. What's it gonna be?"

Still no response from Sam, unless you counted the tightening of his fingers over the steering wheel, and Dean sighed audibly.

"Pull over, Sam," Dean growled.

Sam gave his head a single firm shake, no.

"I said pull the car over," Dean ordered again, reaching over to grab the steering wheel. The car veered dangerously to the right, sliding into the soft gravel of the shoulder before Sam regained control.

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam cried out in protest. "Are you trying to kill us?"

"I'm just trying to get you to wake up. I want to know what's going on with my brother - you're really starting to scare me."

"Yeah, well, I can't tell you," Sam spat back as he finally stopped the car and put it in park.

"What can't you tell me?" Dean challenged.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Dean, please!" Sam snapped, finally having enough. His hands clenched around the door handle and he pushed it open in one swift move, climbing from the car and stomping off.

The door slammed behind him, and Dean winced for his baby, sending a mental apology to the metal beast before gathering up his crutches from the back seat and climbing unsteadily from the car. The ground was soft and uneven, and he found that he had to plant the poles carefully to keep from taking a nosedive. And because of that, Sam managed to put quite a bit of space between himself and Dean before he finally turned around and noticed the older man teetering determinedly towards him.

Sam glared at his brother, hollering, "Just go back to the car, Dean!" before turning around and continuing to stomp off down the road. Thoughts ran through his mind like a streaming marquee. How did it come to this? What would he tell Dean? How would his brother react to knowing he'd been lying to him for all this time? He felt justified in doing so, but only as long as he didn't get caught. But now, with Dean as firm as he was in his conviction that they didn't need the money, didn't deserve the money, Sam knew the truth would have to come out sooner or later. Apparently it was going to come out sooner. Today in fact. But he felt he needed a little more time to process.

"Please, Sam, just talk to me!" he heard Dean call from behind him. It sounded muted and muffled from the distance he'd gained, but he could still hear the desperation in Dean's voice. Not long after, he heard his brother cry out, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect. That didn't sound good.

Finally, Sam turned and came face to face with nothing. No Dean. His eyes scanned the area, and then dropped low to the ground.

"Shit, Dean!" he cried, breaking into a sprint to more quickly cover the great distance he'd made between them as adrenaline pumped through his blood. It's not that Dean appeared to be all that injured, although he was laying flat and spread eagle on the ground looking pissed as hell, it's just that this was just one more thing for Sam to feel guilty for. Because if he hadn't been storming off Dean wouldn't have felt the need to follow him and he wouldn't have fallen in the first place.

By the time Sam made it back to Dean, his brother had already pulled himself into a sit and was grabbing for his crutches as he brushed the dirt off his pants and jacket. He looked pissed as hell, and ready to kill, and right then Sam knew he had reached the end of his rope. Dean knew something was going on with him, and like a vampire tracking a scent Dean wasn't going to let down for anything now.

God, Dean. I'm so sorry. I've just made a mess of this, haven't I? Sam knew better than to ask Dean if he was okay, but it took every ounce of effort he had to close his mouth and hold the inquiry in. Instead, he plopped right down in the dirt next to the enraged hunter as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be sitting in the middle of a mound of dirt on the side of the highway, and clearly Dean had meant to do so. He did a quick scan of his brother's body, searching for any sign of injury before allowing himself to breathe. Once again his eyes fell to the stump of a leg, covered by the flopping extra material of the jeans Dean hadn't pinned up when he removed the prosthesis, and guilt overrode him. That was the cause of this whole thing; the lying and the deceiving and Sam's obsessive need to come up with money. Except, he couldn't blame this all on Dean's leg - that was just the outcome for something else Sam had done, something Sam just couldn't stop blaming himself for causing.

For several minutes they just sat there in silence, side by side, watching the few cars zoom past. Some slowed as they drove by, curious onlookers intent on discovering why the car was pulled off, but not willing to stop to offer assistance. And that was just fine with the brother's.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me." Dean's voice was low, sad, almost apologetic as he finally broke the silence. "And I really want to help you, Sammy."

Sam reached his hand out to the side, grabbing a handful of dirt which he then tossed away as he thought on what Dean was saying to him. But he didn't speak, and Dean continued.

"I can't help but think this has something to do with the money, or with money period; I'm not really sure. But you've been awfully dead set on finding cash somewhere. You're not...in trouble, are you?" His voice lowered at the last part, as though it were too terrible to fathom. Sam had never been the gambler or the hustler in the family, preferring to make money the old fashioned way whenever possible. But then again, Dean hadn't exactly been fulfilling the big brother role very well lately. Truth be told, he had been so busy wallowing in his own self-pity that he really didn't know what Sam had been up to in the lat many weeks. How was he to know if Sam hadn't felt it necessary to go to extremes for cash.

"No, it's nothing like that!" Sam exclaimed, immediately reading Dean's thoughts and knowing his brother was assuming the worst. "It's just...it's nothing. I can't tell you, Dean."

It was killing him to keep this secret, but he would have just as big a fight on his hands trying to convince Dean that they should spend the inheritance on him as he would convincing him that they were worthy of the money in the first place. Damn Dean and his feelings of unworthiness. He could kick his ass for that sometimes.

"Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam's eyes widened at that, and he finally looked at Dean, incredulity written all over his expression. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" He demanded.

Dean shrugged. "I haven't been a very good big brother lately, Sam. Something is clearly eating away at you, and I've been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe if you had been able to come to me sooner you wouldn't be feeling as though you can't talk to me now."

"That's not it, Dean," Sam protested. "You've had a lot on your plate lately. You have no reason to be apologizing for worrying about yourself. I think I would be more concerned if you didn't take the time to worry about yourself."

"But I still should have made time for you're stuff, Sam," Dean insisted. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam exploded. "Why can't you let me worry about you for a change. That's what I'm trying to do here, and you're not making it very easy!" Shit! Did I just say that out loud?

Dean latched onto Sam's declaration immediately, and now that he knew whatever was bothering Sam was about him, it was all over. Sam slouched in defeat. He just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"If this is about me, you need to tell me!" Dean exclaimed, as anger began to fill in around the edges of his concern. He crossed his arms against his chest and held firm in stalwart determination to elicit a confession out of his little brother.

Sam stalled for another minute before finally giving in. Resistance was futile. "It's about your therapy. And the prosthetic legs. We don't have the money to pay for them...well, we didn't at least until we found out about those bonds."

Confusion was Dean's immediate reaction, quickly followed by betrayal and insult. "Why didn't you use one of the insurance cards?"

It was all Sam could do not to shoot Dean a look of 'how stupid are you?' before he answered. "I didn't know how long we would be staying, but I knew it would be long enough for the fraudulent numbers to become an issue. We couldn't risk it."

"Then I shouldn't have been doing the therapy in the first place. I shouldn't have been fitted for a leg."

"And that logic right there is exactly why I didn't tell you that any of this was going on. I knew you would refuse the help if you didn't think it was covered, and you needed the therapy. You deserve that leg. Both of them."

Dean shook his head as he looked solemnly down at his lap. "Not at the lengths you were willing to go to get them. Hell, Sam, that day when you told me you would rob a bank for me I thought you were joking. But now I'm not so sure."

Sam flinched, the memory of his very vivid dream popping up fresh in his mind. He put a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, tugging softly to get him to look up, to look Sam in the eye. "Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have been willing to do the same things for me?"

Dean didn't hesitate. "Of course I would. I would do anything for you, Sam. But this is different."

"How?" Sam challenged, jumping to his feet to appear more intimidating. "How is this different? How is me doing something to help you not okay, but you doing the same things for me totally acceptable?"

"It just is," Dean answered with all seriousness in his tone.

"It's just bullshit is what it is. You have to stop sacrificing yourself for everyone else, Dean. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to me!"

That got him. "How is this not fair to you?" Dean asked, once again his only focus to make sure Sam was happy. Sam knew he would pick up on that.

Sam sighed dramatically. "Do you think I enjoy seeing you in so much pain? Do you think it's easy to watch you withdraw into a shell and hide from the world just because of what you think they'll say to you? Because I don't Dean. It tears me up inside to see you going through this. God, Dean, I would crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant I could give you your leg back. And since you and I both know that's impossible, the least I can do is make sure you get the best therapy and the best prostheses available. And I fully intend to give that to you."

"Sam, you said yourself that we can't afford it."

Sam shook his head, sitting back down again, but this time directly facing Dean. "I said we couldn't afford it. We can now - with those bonds. There's plenty of money there to pay for everything. And we'll probably have money left over, too."

"We can't take the money, Sam. We can't cash those bonds."

"Why not, Dean" Sam demanded. "Because you said so? Because somewhere along the line you decided that you weren't deserving of anything good in this world, so clearly you shouldn't be allowed to take this money? Give me a break!"

"It doesn't feel right."

"Well you need to make it start feeling right. Because it's our money - money our Grandfather saw fit to leave for us years ago. If we don't take it who will? It's not like he's going to miss it."

"You just don't get it, Sam. I–"

"No, Dean, you don't get it," Sam cut him off. "It's okay to need help every once in a while. It's okay to ask for it. And this - this money - there's no reason why we can't accept it and there's really no reason why we can't use it on you. I can't think of a better way to spend it."

Dean's eyes fell to the ground and he stayed silent as he unconsciously played with the edge of his shirt. A lone tear began to form in the corner of his eye, but he wiped it away as quickly as it came, erasing any sign of it's presence before whispering, "I can."

"What? How?" Sam sounded incredulous and worried and maybe even a little pissed off before he even heard where Dean's mind was straying to, and the emotions only got worse when he did hear.

"You could use it for college, Sammy. That would probably go a long w ay toward law school - I know it can't be cheap."

Sam huffed in frustration. "Even if that's where my mind was at right now, you honestly think I could make it all the way through law school in good conscience knowing I was spending the money we could have used on a prosthetic leg? God, Dean, sometimes I don't even know where you get some of this stuff."

"It's what you want, Sam."

"No, Dean. Not anymore. Not for a long time. Right now, what I want is for you to be happy. I want you to feel whole again."

"Attaching a piece of metal to my body isn't going to make me feel whole," Dean protested.

"Maybe not," Sam agreed, "But using it will. You think I didn't notice how much more confident you were just in the small amount of time you've worn it so far. That, to me, is worth it. You're worth it, Dean." There was so much conviction in his tone it was hard to argue with the logic, and Dean finally accepted defeat when he heard it.

"That's honestly what you want to do with the money?" he questioned, still unsure of himself, but now the tiniest hint of excitement pushing its way through.

"There's nothing else even on the radar," Sam assured him, looking him straight in the eyes for confirmation. "You're important to me, Dean. Your happiness is my happiness."

Dean nodded slowly. "Alright, if you're sure. We'll look at numbers when we get home."

It wasn't exactly an agreement, but Sam knew it was the best he could do under the circumstances and he was willing to take what he could get at that point. This was by far better than what he had expected to get out of Dean. "I can live with that."

He stood, brushing the dust off his jeans before reaching out both his hands to haul Dean back up, surprised when Dean accepted the offer without so much as a snarky comment, and even more surprised when Dean pulled him into a firm hug once they were both standing. Dean's arms wrapped around Sam's shoulders tightly, his arms locking against Sam's back so they were cheek to cheek.

Sam had no intention of pulling away first, and Dean allowed the embrace to go on for close to a minute before he broke the silence of the moment. His breath came out hot against Sam's ear as he spoke the firm commandment, leaving no room for argument and every indication that he was back strong and hard in big brother mode.

"I'll use the money, Sam. But only on one condition; and if you bail out on this I swear to god I'll stop at the nearest lake and toss the damn things into the center."

He waited to continue, and Sam nodded his agreement to the terms before ever hearing them.

"You have to stop blaming yourself for this accident, you got me? This wasn't your fault. I stepped in that bear trap, not you. I decided to hike into those woods, not you. I have a mind of my own, Sam, and no matter how stupid I think some of these ideas are that you have I wouldn't be going along with them if I didn't want to. So you've gotta quit with the guilt. Is that understood?"

He held on tight, the hold becoming equal parts hug and coercion, as he waited for affirmation from Sam. It took a while before the younger brother was fully able to voice that agreement, and he choked on the words as they came out, but he finally allowed them to come. He would do anything for Dean, anything to make him feel worthy of this generous and unexpected gift they were left, and if that meant letting go of the guilt he figured he could do that for Dean.

"It might take a while," Sam warned, "but I'll let it go, Dean. I promise."

Dean nodded, and released his hold on his brother, suddenly feeling empty as their connection was broken. He found he wasn't quite ready to break their bond and he found himself reaching up to clamp onto Sam's shoulder. "I'm gonna use you to get back to the car. Those crutches aren't worth a damn on this soft ground."

Sam smiled, eagerly stepping into the role as he slowly led Dean back to the car and helped him in before returning to retrieve the abandoned crutches. He climbed back into the car and started it up, allowing himself one last glance at his brother before pulling back onto the road. It was as though a weight had been lifted from both of them on this trip to their grandfather's hometown, and Sam realized he would be forever grateful to this man he'd never met, because somehow he had managed to bring Dean back to him. It was the first time since Dean had been hurt that he actually believed that they would be alright.