Last time, on 'I Wanna Know Why':

"We should change our tactic tonight." Sam said. Dean scratched his head, blinking a couple of times.

"We should?" he frowned, "What, like, go to a bar, drink, stay out all night kind of change?" he asked, a little confused. Sam made a face.

"No, I'm talking about the gig. I'm thinking we should go at it differently this time." He explained. Dean gave a slight nod, still looking a little confused and rather sleepy.

"We should?" he asked, and then seemed to come to his senses. "Wait, you want to go out there again, tonight?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"Yes." He said simply. "The sooner we get this job done, the sooner we can go back and warn Lynn." Sam said, checking the shotgun, making sure it was clean. "What?" he asked at the angry glare Dean was shooting him.

"Dude, why don't you just call the chick, tell her she's in trouble and end it?" Dean snapped, getting off the bed. "We're not going back there, and we're not going back out to the house tonight, got it?" he demanded, stomping off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, leaving one flabbergasted Sam behind him.

"What? Dean!" Sam cried angrily. He walked over to the bathroom door, waiting for Dean to get out. He had to wait quite a while, which gave him time enough to rethink the past couple of minutes. Okay, so, he probably went about the whole thing the wrong way. Dean did say no shop talk before coffee, and he probably wasn't entirely awake when Sam started poking at him, but then again, he'd been sleeping for ages! And why is he so adamant about not going back? What, does he think I'll leave him for Lynn? That I'd want to stay with her and leave him? Nah, no way he thinks that, Sam thought, hoped. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, and went out to get his brother a cup of coffee.

Chapter Seventeen

Dean raised a brow.

"Coffee." Sam offered. Dean's lip quirked upwards.

"Thanks." He said, taking the offered cup and taking a big swig.

"I brought lunch, too. It's cold now, though. Steak, potatoes and some broccoli. It's really good, man, you should have it." Sam added. Dean stared at him for a long moment, before giving him a little nod. Sam smiled, pointing the food out to him and Dean walked over to the table, sitting down. Sam sat down across from him.

"Dean, you know there's no way I'm going to stay with Lynn, right? I mean, sure, I like her, but it's not like that, man. I'm staying with you. You know that, right?" Sam asked, gauging for Dean's reaction. Dean frowned, staring at him.

"Where'd that come from?" he asked. Sam suddenly felt like someone had turned up the heater. He readjusted his collar with his finger.

"I don't know, I was just thinking…" he stuttered. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Told you nothing good comes out from all that thinking, Sam. You'll just end up hurting yourself, giving yourself an aneurysm or something." Dean muttered, forking at his cold food. A cold steak didn't seem all that appetizing to him.

"So what is it? What's your problem with us going back there tonight, finish it?" Sam inquired. Dean suddenly seemed all kinds of uncomfortable.

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Sam." He said a moment later. Sam gave a small nod.

"I know what you think, but she did come after us in daylight. I don't think she'll get stronger at night, I mean she killed Mrs. Jefferson's father around noon…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Dean, still forking around his food, still not eating, still obviously tired and hiding something. "Look, this time we'll be better prepared. We know what she does, how she kills, we'll just… We won't separate this time." Sam said, "And we'll use charms and protection, we'll bring lots of salt…"

"Sam…" Dean tilted his head to the side, not looking his brother in the eye.

"Look, Dean…" Sam sighed, "I really need to finish this. I need to make sure Lynn's okay. I don't want to see her pinned to the ceiling. We can finish the gig, get some rest, be back on the road first thing tomorrow morning…"

"NO!" Dean said, pounding on the table. Sam gave him a startled, confused look. Okay, there was definitely something Dean was keeping from him. He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, and was about to speak when Dean seemed to catch himself. Dean took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "We're not going to go out there like that just because you finally started thinking with your downstairs brain, Sam!" Dean said harshly. Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"What?" he shrieked, his temper rising. Did Dean really think he was that selfish? That he just wanted to go back so he could sleep with Lynn? Did he really think that little of him? "Dean, we have to finish this job, we talked about it!" Sam cried angrily.

"And we will!" Dean reassured him, "Just not tonight." He said, a little calmer, "Maybe tomorrow." He added. Sam gasped, shocked. Since when did Dean back out on a gig? What the hell was going on?

"What the hell? Why not?" Sam demanded angrily, pinning Dean with his gaze. Dean wouldn't meet his eyes. He was fidgeting in his seat, practically squirming.

"Look, Sam, I just woke up. And I'm really not in the mood for cold food right now. Why won't we go get something to eat…" Dean said, trying to change the subject, trying to lessen the tension between them, but Sam was all too familiar with this tactic, and he was sick of it.

"Dean!" he demanded, that one word containing so much in it. Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, still refusing to meet Sam's eyes.

"Look," he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. "We'll get the job done, just not tonight, alright?" he added in a small voice. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, "What is it with you? What did she do to you?" Sam pushed on, even though Dean seemed about as comfortable as a bug on a speeding windshield. Sam took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Talk to me, Dean." He implored, "You know we have to end this quickly. You know I had another vision, and we have to…"

"Because I can't watch your back tonight, that's why!" Dean finally exploded. Sam stared at him in shock, which only made Dean look even smaller and more uncomfortable. He got up from his seat and started pacing the room. Sam frowned.

"What? Why?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around the fact Dean might have just admitted a weakness. Sam walked over to Dean, gingerly putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean, what aren't you telling me?" Sam asked tentatively. Dean shrugged him off.

"Look, forget it, I'm just tired, okay?" Man, getting Dean to confess something was more painful than pulling teeth, Sam thought as Dean once again put a couple of feet between them, dodging him. That's it. Sam wasn't taking it anymore. He was going to find out what's wrong, and he was going to find out NOW.

"No! Not okay!" Sam exclaimed. "You're tired? Get some more coffee! Dean, if we don't do this tonight… If we don't get back soon, Lynn could die!" he said slowly, accentuating every word.

"I know!" Dean yelled at him, "Don't you think I know that? But we're not doing it, Sam. Not tonight!" he insisted, turning his back on Sam and resuming his pacing.

"Dean…" Sam exhaled loudly, staring at the older hunter. He shook his head lightly. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded again, though he tried to keep his voice as supportive as possible. Dean shook his head, biting his lower lip, and turned away from Sam again.

"Don't ask me that, Sam." He said in a small voice.

"DEAN!" Sam was tired of waiting, tired of excuses. It was time for answers. Dean whirled around, looking irritably at him.

"Fine, dude, you brought it on yourself." Dean hissed through gritted teeth and clenched fists. "That shirt? So wrong, Sammy. So wrong…" he shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue as Sam practically had steam pouring out of his ears. "I mean, what's next? A Disney shirt? 'Cause I gotta tell you…"

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, and for a moment, he could swear Dean shrunk back. There was a moment of awkward silence before Dean finally relented. He dropped his shoulders and leaned heavily against the dirty, sticky table.

"I can't have your back, Sam." Dean said in a small voice, "And you're not going to do this alone." Dean added quickly. Sam glared at him, still angry, still waiting for an explanation. A real one this time. No more crap, he was done with it.

"And?" Sam demanded.

"And?" Dean repeated.

"And what aren't you telling me?" Sam muttered through clenched teeth. Getting their father to call on a regular basis was easier. Hell, understanding women was easier! Dean scratched his head, running his fingers through his hair as he bit his lip. He looked uncomfortable again, Sam noticed, uncomfortable, and something more.

"Look, I…" Dean cleared his throat, biting his lip again, "I can't tonight." He said simply, "I just can't, Sam, so let it go." Sam opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Let it go? Let it go? Was Dean serious?

"Um… No!" Sam snapped at last.

"Damn it, Sammy!" and for some reason, the fact that Dean used his childhood nickname only served to infuriate Sam even more. He was tired of being seen as a kid. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was a man, and it was about damn time people started noticing it!

"It's Sam!" he snapped, swallowing at the look Dean gave him. He reminded Sam of a puppy someone just slapped with a newspaper. Dean looked at his little brother, giving a slight nod. It wasn't Sammy he was talking to, Dean had to remind himself, it wasn't his kid brother, the one who looked up to him and followed him around wherever he went. No, this was Sam. The man who walked out on him. The man who will walk out on him again the first chance he'll get. Dean cleared his throat again, licking his lips, turning his back on Sam, unable to look at him.

"Look, I'm not feeling so hot, okay?" Dean said, his voice cracking. "I'm actually feeling pretty crappy right now, so can we save the Sam tantrum for when I'm feeling up to it?" he bit out, glowering at Sam, and slowly walked over to his bed, slumping down on it.

"What do you mean, you're not feeling hot?" Sam asked a couple of pregnant moments later, "Are you alright?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice. Dean didn't answer him. "She did something to you, didn't she?" Sam went on, his voice a little husky as he, too, slumped on his own bed. "I knew it." He muttered. Dean sighed.

"No, she didn't." he said, toying with the ring on his finger. "Look, it's nothing a good sleep can't fix, so don't start getting all… girly on me." Dean said awkwardly.

"You're lying." Sam accused in a small voice, staring at some vague spot on the carpet. He straightened, looking intently at Dean. "Dean, you're lying." He repeated, more assertively this time. "What's going on?" he demanded. Dean rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh, giving him the 'oh, jeez, great' look. "Dean, what…?" Sam let out a deep breath, "Do you want me to get you something? Are you getting sick again? I knew sleeping outside last night was a bad idea, I bet you're getting sick again." He muttered fretfully, and then sighed. "I guess we can…"

"No." Dean cut him off, "Nothing like that, okay?" for the first time, Dean made eye contact with Sam, trying to reassure the younger brother. "I'm just… I really need some rest, Sam. Just sleep it off for a couple of days, you think I can do that without you freaking out on me or acting like a mother hen and driving me insane?" Dean asked tiredly.

He was tired? Just tired? He's been sleeping longer than he ever used to, and he was tired all the time! There was enough BS here to grow an entire flower garden, Sam thought. He nodded lightly.

"You think you can tell me what's going on without lying through your teeth?" he asked, mimicking Dean's tone. Dean let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sam,"

"Dean." Again, Sam imitated Dean's tone. He was worried about Dean, has been for months now, and the fact that Dean was doing Olympic class dodging was making him angry. But Sam caught himself before he let slip some things he knew would only make Dean hide deeper inside his freakish, impenetrable shell. He forced himself to use another tactic. One that hasn't failed as to date. He used his patented, perfected, puppy eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated it when Sam stared at him, but he really, really hated the puppy eyes. I'm not gonna cave, he thought, this is not gonna work, Sammy, he tried to convince himself. Some things a man just have to keep to himself, you were the one who said that, remember? I am not going to cave. I'm NOT going to… Damn it!

Dean cleared his throat, shrinking under Sam's scrutiny. God, could he look any more uncomfortable? Sam wondered, and felt his gut twisting, his heart speeding up. This was bad. Whatever it is, he isn't going to like it, and Dean knows it. Whatever it is, it's bad, Sam knew. He just wished Dean would spit it out already.

"Look, I… I have this… thing…" Dean said in a small voice, finding his hands suddenly very interesting. Sam gave a slight nod, waiting for Dean to go on. At least until he realized Dean wasn't going to go on without some serious encouragement. Or poking.

"Thing? What thing?" Sam asked, and Dean actually squirmed at that one. "What, like a kid sort of thing? Or like 'I just bought a puppy and it peed on your bed' kind of thing? Or is it more like 'I'm mixing pills and booze' kind of thing?" Sam pushed. His eyes never left Dean. He wasn't backing up, not this time. Dean bit his lip, shooting Sam with a quick glance before looking away again. He cleared his throat.

"I have this… problem… with my blood pressure…" he finally admitted. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the complete, cold, hard truth, either. Sam frowned, taking a couple of moments to absorb the news.

"Problem?" he asked a few seconds later. Dean tilted his head to the side awkwardly, trying to find the right words.

"I get… I don't know, distracted, and… Look, it's just… I can't look out for you like that, okay?" he admitted in a small, hoarse voice, shooting Sam another quick glance, gauging Sam's reaction.

Sam was quiet for what felt like ages. Dean could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Sam frowned, pursing his lips, and looked at Dean.

"Distracted? Like with the poltergeist kind of distracted?" he asked at last. Dean quickly averted his eyes, unable to look at his little brother, unable to say what needed to be said. Sam took it as an affirmation. "You weren't feeling well then, too, were you?" Sam demanded.

"Look, Sam, it's no big deal…" Dean tried, but Sam cut him off.

"Blood pressure… So, that's why you've been so tired all the time?" he asked, "Why you've been passing out of exhaustion?" he went on, not giving Dean the chance to answer, "Blood pressure problems?" Dean opened and closed his mouth several times. He let out a deep breath.

"Um… well…" was the best he managed. That, along with a slight, hesitant nod. Sam shook his head, still trying to process the news. He got up from his bed and started pacing nervously for a few loaded moments. Dean kept his head down, waiting anxiously, hoping Sam would just let it go. Sam stopped in mid-pace, turning to look apprehensively at his brother.

"And how are you feeling?" he asked, cursing himself for not asking earlier. "I mean, can you do anything about it? Do you need any medical treatment or something?" Sam asked, "I mean, this could be something serious, Dean. God, I can't believe you didn't tell me!" his voice shot up at that last sentence.

"Well, I'm telling you now." Dean said simply. Sam's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline. Was Dean kidding? "And relax, would you?" Dean went on, "It's not like I'm gonna drop dead any second, I just need to rest for a while." He said calmly.

"But Dean, those things, they don't just happen!" Sam cried, he shook his head, his eyes trailing to the cold food sitting on the table. "That's it, no more burgers for you! You're gonna eat right from now on. And no coffee!"

"Hey, whoa, hold on there a second," Dean shot to his feet. Death was not something Dean feared. He had his face to face with it, literally, and more than once. Living a miserable, long, coffee-free life - now that was a different story…

"Dean,"

"Sam!" Dean yelled. It was time to beat some sense into his little brother's head. Sam and needless panic were good friends when they wanted to be. "Look, I'm fine, okay? So don't go all Nurse Betty on me, alright?"

"No!" Sam yelled back. "This is serious here, Dean. You can't just shrug it off!" he scowled. "Come on." He muttered through clenched teeth, walking over to Dean and pulling him by the arm.

"Where?" Dean asked.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Sam answered tersely.

"Like hell you are!" Dean tried to shrug Sam's hand off, but Sam was holding on to him so strong, Dean was pretty sure he was going to leave a mark. Still, Dean had some tricks up his sleeve, and with a quick maneuver, he managed to get Sam's hand off.

"Dean, this is serious, man!" Sam yelled irritably, "You need to get checked out. This can be worse than just blood pressure." Sam admonished.

"Well, it's not." Dean insisted. It was his job to protect Sam, and damn it, he was going to do it, even if he was protecting Sam from himself. There are some things Sam just did not need to know.

"How do you know?" Sam insisted.

"Because I do, okay?" Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it wasn't working. Dean was just being stubborn, and this time it might just get him killed. There was no way Sam was letting it happen.

"Still, maybe they could prescribe something, or advise on a diet…" he tried.

"I'm already taking something for that, okay?" Dean said, and Sam actually paled at that. "So stop being such a girl and just let me go to sleep, would you?" Dean pushed, mistaking Sam's lack of answer as agreement. It wasn't. It was shock.

Dean was taking pills for his blood pressure problem. Dean was taking pills for his blood pressure, and hiding it from him! Dean has known about this long enough to get a prescription, and didn't tell him about it! Sam did his best to control his anger, his frustration, his disappointment. His hurt. Dean didn't tell him. He had asked and asked, he knew something was wrong, but Dean looked him straight in the eye and lied to him. Why didn't he just tell me? Doesn't he trust me?

"Oh." Sam swallowed hard. "So, you're taking something for your blood pressure…" Sam said dryly, still unable to contain the myriad of emotion swirling inside him.

"Yeah." Dean said simply. There was a moment of silence before Dean added, "So you could just relax and stop… OW!" he cried as Sam punched him on the arm as hard as he could.

"You stupid asshole!" Sam yelled. Dean blinked in shock, massaging his arm, and frowned. "You're just a big, dumb jerk, you know that, don't you?" Sam spat on, Dean was taken aback from the amount of emotion behind the accusation. "How long have you known?" Sam demanded.

"Sam, it's no big deal…"

"No big deal my foot!" Sam screamed.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam punched him again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam accused, "God, Dean, you can be such an idiot sometimes!" Sam glared angrily at the older sibling, who just couldn't bring himself to look back at Sam. "Does dad know?" Sam demanded. Dean didn't answer, and that was answer enough for Sam. "Damn it, Dean, what were you waiting for? Huh? Were you waiting until you just dropped dead to let me know there's a problem? Dammit, I knew it! I knew there was something wrong…" Dean bit his lip, waiting for the tirade to die down as Sam started pacing again. Sam shook his head, it looked like he was far from being over it. "The way you…" and then he suddenly sucked in his breath, his eyes widening, and then narrowing. He swallowed, turning to look at Dean so slowly, that Dean half-expected to hear music of impending doom playing in the background. "Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"How long exactly has this been going on?" Sam demanded, doing his best to control himself. "And don't lie to me!" he warned. Dean shrugged.

"Not long." He said matter-of-factly.

"How long!" Sam yelled.

"A few months..." Dean admitted in a small voice.

"A few months?" Sam seemed livid, "Like seven, maybe?" he yelled, "Damn it, since the Demon, right? The Demon did this to you?" tears were pooling in Sam's eyes. It was exactly what Dean didn't want to happen. Sam was going to blame himself, Dean just knew it. He was rather surprised when a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered happily 'good'.

"Sam…"

"God, Dean, you are the most… irritating, inconsiderate, infuriating, stupid jerk!" Sam yelled, storming out of the room.

"Hey, Sam, you mind not taking the car?" Dean cried out after him, "My pills are in there, I think I really should take one right about now…" but all the answer he got was a slamming door.

He knew it! He just knew it! All along, right from the start, he knew Dean was keeping something from him. That asshole. That stupid, moronic, idiotic, cocky, pompous, arrogant, jerk! For months, for months he's been lying to Sam. Okay, so he didn't want to tell their dad, Sam could understand that, sort of. Dean always used to hide his injuries, especially from their dad. He hated to appear weak in their father's eyes. Sam could still remember that hunt they were on, when Dean wouldn't tell their dad he was feeling sick and ended up in the ICU with a ruptured appendix.

But he should have at least told me! Sam thought bitterly. I'm here with him, I'm the one risking my ass working jobs with him! How dare he not tell me? What would have happened if he'd passed out sooner on that poltergeist job? What would have happened if he didn't wake up at the hospital, and Sam didn't tell the doctors about Dean's blood pressure problem? And that's another thing, blood pressure problems don't just happen. Not in healthy twenty eight year olds. Yes, okay, so Dean wasn't exactly healthy at the time, more like coding a couple of times, but still, whatever happened, it shouldn't have left a permanent damage. Not this kind of permanent damage. Unless… Unless there was something else Dean wasn't telling him. Idiot! Self sacrificing idiot! What if… What if…

Sam let out an exasperated cry. So angry he couldn't decide if he wanted to beat Dean to death, or hug him and never let go. There were so many what ifs, he was too scared to even think about it. And that's when he decided. Dean was lying, he was still hiding something, Sam was sure about that. His brother was trying to ease him into the news, to lull him into a false sense of security. Like he did with the painkillers, letting Sam think those were the worst of it. And how come he never found the blood pressure pills there? Dean was hiding them. In the car.

Sam let out a hysteric laugh. Well, that would explain a lot. Like why he kept complaining about the car but still took those long drives on his own. Like why he was out there the other night, sleeping in the car. Yes, Sam has made up his mind. He was going to learn the truth, no matter how painful. Because he couldn't afford not to know. Dean might be in some serious trouble, Sam couldn't afford not to know. And so he knew he had to do it.

He was going to get Dean's records from the hospital in Missouri. He was going to find out everything there was to know, if his brother wanted him to, or not. Sam was done waiting for Dean to come clean.

TBC

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