Wow, wow and wow! Thanks so much for the amazing response to this story!! I don't think anything I've written to date has garnered so many reviews or alerts. Thank you, thank you, thank you!! And a HUGE THANKS to hotshow, because most of this story was her idea and she keeps me going in the right direction. I particularly like the beginning of this chapter, and I hope you do too.

Chapter 2

"Dean! Dean!" Sam slid in stocking feet around the hall corner. "Dean!"

Dean protected his full cup of coffee from another Sammy attack. The last one wound up all over the floor and wall next to Sam's room. "Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming."

A wide grin was plastered across Sam's face as he motioned to Dean. This was suspicious. Dean crept along behind his brother, wondering what was going on. Sam pressed a finger against his lips, pointing to his room. Dean peeked around the corner to find two nurses tearing Sam's room apart, frantically searching for something.

"Sam?" Dean whispered. "What's going on?"

Sam grinned, holding out his arm. He pointed to the charm on his bracelet. "I told them I lost it and you would be mad." He giggled, watching the fun.

Dean considered fussing at Sam for causing trouble, but after all the tests his brother endured for the past couple of days, not to mention a few nurses who bore a family resemblance to Attila the Hun, he figured this was justified.

"Where is it, Sam?" Dean said loudly, throwing his brother a wink. "Didn't I tell you not to lose it?"

Sam covered his mouth with both hands, holding in the laughter. It was good to see his little brother in such a good mood. The two nurses searching for Sam's charm froze at the sound of his voice. Dean knew he had been something of an overprotective terror, but he had not realized how much until now. Both women were staring at him in horror, as if he might explode.

"Get out," he growled at them, enjoying their discomfort. The nurses bolted from Sam's room.

Dean grinned at their retreating backs. He took his regular seat in Sam's room, massaging his sore neck with one hand. Sleeping in a chair was just not good for him.

"Boy, Dean, you sure do scare them," Sam jabbed a thumb at the racing nurses. "But you know who you don't scare?"

"Who's that, Sammy?" He sipped his coffee, wondering where Sam was going with this. Sam had been coming up with a lot of oddball stuff lately. He supposed it was due to the fact his brother thought like a five year old at the moment.

Sam grinned broadly. "Me."

Dean chuckled. "Good. Don't want to scare you."

"Dean? Something's been bothering me. Can I ask you?" Sam peered at him earnestly.

"Sure, Sammy. You know you can ask me anything." Doesn't mean I'll give you a real answer, but you can ask.

"When did you get short?"

Dean choked on his coffee. "When what?" he sputtered. "Huh?"

Sam stared at him with those earnest eyes. "When did you get short?"

"Dude, I am not short," Dean pointed a finger at Sam. "You're just unnaturally tall."

Sam frowned. "And that's what all the tests are for? To see why I'm so tall?"

"No, Sam," Dean sighed. "To see what's going on inside that thick skull of yours."

"So it doesn't bother you?" Sam insisted. "That I'm taller?"

"No," Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "It doesn't bother me." What bothers me is that you think you're a little kid. He tried to force a smile on his face, but he was pretty sure it was not as convincing as he would like. Sam did not look reassured.

"I never wanted to be taller than you, Dean." Sam continued.

"Why not, Sam? I thought you'd like that," Dean sipped his coffee.

"So what's going on inside my thick skull?" Sam asked, perching on the side of his bed.

"No clue," Dean said. "You've always been a mystery to me, Sammy."

Sam giggled again. "I was talking about the tests, Dean!"

"Oh, that," Dean waved his hand in the air to dismiss the question. "Nothing too bad, Sammy. Don't worry about it." Bruised brain, excess fluid, weirdo amnesia that the doctors want to write a paper about, but nothing too concerning, really. "They should be releasing you pretty soon." He grinned.

Sam's face split into a broad smile. "Yeah? Then can we go see Dad?"

"Uh, actually, Sam…"

"Not yet," Doctor Jeffries announced, breezing into Sam's room. "I'm afraid we will need to keep Sammy here for at least a week. For observation."

"It's Sam," Dean said standing, "and we agreed you would release him after the tests were done."

"That was before I knew he needed observation," she said, glaring at him disdainfully. "At least a week, Sam." She spun around and marched out before the tears sprang from Sam's eyes.

Dean mumbled something involving enough four letter words to make Sam's eyes go wide. "Back in a minute, Sam."

He saw Jeffries' retreating back at the end of the corridor and rushed to catch up. Dean lost her in the next hall. Grumbling to himself about pain in the ass doctors who needed a good lay, he nearly passed the closed door he wanted. Dean paused outside Jeffries' office when he realized there were voices behind that door.

"But you can't just handle the brother. Not forever," a male voice protested. Dean frowned.

"I don't have to. Just long enough to petition the courts for custody. We can prove Sammy is mentally unstable and that his brother is not fit to care for him as well as we can." Dean's hands clenched into fists and he took a step back. "Then we'll be able to study him for as long as the condition continues."

He lifted a foot, directing all his energy into the door. It burst open, revealing Jeffries and a male doctor Dean recognized from some of Sam's tests. "We're leaving. Now. If you want any forms signed, you'd better find them fast."

He spun on his heel to march back to Sam's room. Even the cute nurse, the one he usually cut a lot of slack, jumped out of his way as he headed for his brother. "Sammy!" he shouted down the hall. Sam's head appeared through an open doorway. "Change clothes. We're getting the hell out of here."

"Whoo-hoo!" Sam's cry echoed in the corridor.

By the time Dean made it to Sam's room, his brother was nearly dressed and had all his things in a pile on the bed. Dean grabbed clothes, stuffing them into Sam's duffel. "Hurry up," he barked, wanting to put as much distance between them and that bitch doctor as possible.

Jeffries raced into Sam's room, stopping short at the activity. "Mister Mahogoff, I don't know what you think you heard, but this won't help your brother."

Dean leveled a glare at Sam's doctor. "Neither are you." He stuffed more clothes in the duffel. "Sam doesn't need a paper written about him. We need answers."

"And we can get those for you," she pleaded.

"And get Sam?" Dean slung the full duffel over his shoulder, staring right in her hard, cold blue eyes. "Not a chance, bitch."

He headed out the door. "Come on, Sam." Dean paused, just long enough to make sure Sam was walking beside him.

"I'm leaving with my brother!" Sam shouted at the nurses' station as they passed. "Bye!" He waved.

In the parking lot he felt Sam's hand slip into his. Startled, Dean looked over. "What?" he held up Sam's hand.

Sam's face was serious as he answered, "I'm not allowed to cross the parking lot without holding hands, Dean."

"Right." Dean nodded to himself. Since he and Sam started traveling together his image as a flaming heterosexual was in constant jeopardy, and this was not going to help. Maybe he should just put up signs: 'nookie-free zone.' In neon. Damn it!

As they crossed the parking lot, Dean cast glances at his brother. Sam looked perfectly normal, and unless you actually talked to him, no one should notice he was under the misconception that he was about five years old. Frigging doctors and their papers. If they did have anything that could help him, they were probably keeping it to themselves so they could study Sam.

Dean unlocked the car, threw Sam's duffel in the backseat, and motioned to his brother to get in. Sam peered in the windows, cupping his hands around his eyes to see better, before opening the door. He sunk into the passenger seat with a sigh.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked as he started the car.

"When I saw the car, I thought Dad was here."

Dean flinched. How could he forget that one little detail? He cleared this throat. "Dad gave me the car, Sam."

"Really?" Sam was surprised. "When?"

"A few years ago," he said evasively, hoping Sam would not press the issue.

"Oh." Sam was quiet the next few lights. "I guess that's one of the things I forgot, huh?"

That and almost twenty years of your life. "I guess." Dean shrugged. "No big deal." Half his attention was on Sam as he drove, but he hoped it was not obvious. He knew when his brother was more, ah, himself, Sam would notice. This version of Sam, however, was oblivious. Maybe it was because Sam expected everything to be about him when he was little. He always was the center of attention.

Dean was determined to make it at least two towns away before stopping for the night, but it seemed Sam had other plans. "Dean? I need to go."

"Go where?" he asked as his eyes scanned the area for fast food places and gas stations.

"You know," Sam bounced in his seat, "go!"

"Okay, hang on. There's a restaurant up ahead." Dean headed for the closest fast food place.

"Hurry, Dean," Sam warned, bouncing in his seat.

Dean raced into the parking lot, not paying attention to which franchise the fast food restaurant was. He jumped out of the car, waving for Sam to get out. Sam bolted from the car only to stop dead at the door. Dean reached out to push it open when he noticed the clown painted on the glass. His eyes darted to the interior; it was filled with pictures of clowns and a life sized clown statue. Damn.

"Uh, think you can hold it to the next gas station?" he asked, looking up at Sam's terror-stricken face.

Sam backed away, shaking his head.

"We don't have to eat here," Dean explained, grasping his brother by the arm, "but if you gotta go, you gotta go. Come on."

Sam might think he was a little kid, but he certainly had the strength of an adult. A physically fit adult at that. After several fruitless moments of trying to wrestle Sam through the door, Dean leaned back to consider his options. A quick scan of the area provided a secondary option.

"Look, Sam. There's some trees right there. I'll stand guard." Dean looked at his brother hopefully.

Sam shook his head. "It's number two, Dean." His lips quivered and his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Then you got no choice, kiddo. Look," he shifted his jacket so Sam could see his gun. "Any clown comes within ten feet of you, and I'll take care of it. Okay?"

Sam bit his lip and nodded. He shoved Dean at the door. "You first. Make sure there's no clowns nearby."

"Right." Dean rubbed his jaw as he entered, not quite believing he was on clown patrol. He walked the length of the windows by the door, making a show of looking for evil clowns, before opening the door for Sam. "Bathrooms are that way," he pointed down a short hall.

Sam nodded as he rushed by. When he slid into a booth to wait for his brother, Dean noticed a couple of people staring at him. All he could muster was a weak smile. "He, uh, doesn't like clowns." That earned him stronger stares. What the hell was he doing explaining anything to complete strangers? To hell with them. Dean glared back until they looked away. Much better.

Sam took forever. Fortunately, Dean was timing him so he knew it was only ten minutes and that did not warrant busting in the bathroom door. Still, it felt a lot longer, especially with the whispers and looks coming his way from the people who saw them come in. Dean sighed, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Dean!" Sam's head poked out of the bathroom. "Come here! You gotta see this!"

Dean tried to prepare himself for whatever fascinating thing Sam found in the bathroom. He was not big on religion, but he found himself promising God he would never bring Sam to a clown place again as long as it was not some creative wall 'art' or a really huge turd that he had to see. He pushed open the door with trepidation.

"Watch!" Sam stood next to the soap dispenser. He pressed the button and a white mound formed in his palm. "It's foam!"

Thank you, God. No more clowns, I swear. Dean forced a grin. "That's great, Sammy. You ready to go now?"

Sam rinsed off his hand. "Okay, Dean." His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the door as he wiped his wet hand off on his jeans. "Have you checked lately?"

"Yep. No clowns." Dean jerked his head at the door. "Let's go." He held the door open for Sam, led his brother through the groups of people waiting to place their orders, and out the door. Luckily he was able to park near the door, so the hand holding was not needed.

"Hungry? Want some drive-thru?" Dean asked as he started the car.

"Not from here," Sam insisted, scowling.

Dean grinned. "No problem, Sammy. Let's find a clown-free zone."