WOW!! We must have hit a nerve or something with this story, because I've never had so many people putting one of my stories on alert before, or so many reviews! Big thanks to hotshow for being my driving force and funneling me in the right direction. And HUGE thanks to everyone following this. This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but it is important for set-up.

Chapter 3

Dean popped a few aspirin to ward off the headache setting in. Thundercats roared from the motel television. He didn't know they still broadcast that stupid show. Sometimes syndication was pure evil.

Sam stared at the flickering screen, so engrossed by the moronic characters he was stupefied. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were glossed over. There was no expression on his face.

Dean watched his huge baby brother, wondering what in the hell he was going to do. He had been counting on the doctors to find a solution, a cure. But all they were interested in was how many papers they could write. Then he remembered Sammy's laptop. It was in a leather carrying case with his stuff.

Dean pulled out the laptop and set it up on the table. He kept an eye out for Sam as he booted it up and connected to a wireless network. As Thundercats made way for Transformers (where were they dredging this stuff up from?) Dean began a web search on amnesia. After a few hours of twenty year old cartoons, the most helpful thing Dean found was that most types of amnesia were not permanent. Well, at least that gave him some hope.

Dean sat back, rubbing his hands over his face. He had forgotten how addicted Sam was to cartoons. Even when they were kids he didn't think it was healthy, but Sam turned out pretty well anyway.

Most of the websites he found recommended time, patience, and familiar places and people. Should he haul Sam to Palo Alto and try to look up his brother's friends? Even if it sounded like a good idea, Dean would never do that. Show a bunch of geeks who knew his brother for a few years what happened to him? No way. He would never subject Sam to that kind of humiliation. What about Ellen and the Roadhouse? Well, he guessed the welcome mat was still out, but that was not exactly familiar on the place or people front. They had only been there in person a few of times. Bobby? Now that was a thought. What about Bobby's place?

He reached out to turn off the television. "Sam? Time for bed."

"Aw, Dean! Five more minutes?" Sam opened his eyes wide, pleading.

"Go brush your teeth," Dean nodded to the bathroom.

"But De-e-an!" Sam whined.

"Go on," Dean repeated. "Or no bedtime story."

Sam gasped and jumped out of bed. Dean shook his head as he pulled out his cell phone. That threat always worked. It was funny how those kinds of things were coming back to him. He called Bobby.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby, it's Dean. You going to be around your place for a while?" he asked, keeping an ear out for trouble in the bathroom.

"Dean? What the hell is going on with you and Sam?" Bobby's voice raged through the phone.

Dean pulled it away from his ear to stare at it for a moment before answering. "Bobby? What do you mean?"

"I mean your faces are all over the news! I've been watching the alerts on you two for half an hour!"

What the hell? Dean flicked on the television, changing from the ancient cartoon channel to one that might carry the news. When the commercial was over, a sketch of him and a photo of Sam came on side by side. The news anchor announced that he had kidnapped poor Sammy, a grown man with the mental state of a child, from Sam's legal custodians at the hospital. The police were waiting for ransom demands.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed.

"At least. What's going on, Dean? And what's all this crap about Sam's legal custodians?" Bobby demanded.

"I'm going to kill that bitch doctor." Dean sat heavily on the bed. "They didn't get my car or plates, did they?"

"Not that I've seen," Bobby informed him. "Dean, what is all this about?"

"Sam has some weirdo amnesia," Dean checked the bathroom door. It was still closed. "He thinks he's about five."

"Damn. And the hospital?"

"I overheard Sam's doctor talking about going to court to get legal custody of him. That's when we left." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I had no idea that bitch would take it this far. Wait a minute. Bobby? Did this make national news?"

"Nah, it's still within the state. But in my area, we don't exactly have a lot of channel options, so I picked up all the news stations for a couple of states. Keeps me on my toes."

And plenty of possible leads for hunts, Dean reasoned. He was always amazed that some hunters had a home base, one place they always went back to. Bobby's place, filled with books, research, and mementos, always shocked him no matter how many times he went there.

"How hot are we, Bobby?" Dean asked. "I'm looking for a safe place to take Sam, but I don't want to endanger anyone."

Bobby's deep laugh sounded good in his ear. "Dean, don't worry about it. Nobody is going to look for a couple of hospital fugitives in my salvage yard. If you want to bring Sam here, come on. From the sounds of it, you could probably use a little help anyway, huh?"

"No. Sam's no trouble," Dean insisted. Really, like he would need help with Sam! He never needed any help when they were growing up. "But I've been doing some research. Most of the websites I've checked recommend being around familiar places and people. Since we don't have a home, well, I thought your place might be close enough."

There was silence from the other end. Dean watched Sammy come out of the bathroom and show off his brushed teeth before climbing into bed. "Bobby?" he asked, wondering if the connection dropped.

"I'm here, Dean. You boys come on. I'll be expecting you. Do you want separate rooms or to share?"

Dean eyed Sam who waved at him impatiently. "We'd probably be better off sharing." At least that way, Dean would be able to keep an eye on Sam at all times.

"Your room will be ready when you get here, Dean. When do you figure? Sometime tomorrow?"

"I'll shoot for that, Bobby. I'll call you from the road. Thanks, Bobby. This means a lot."

"Yeah. It does." The connection was severed. Dean set his phone on the table between the beds. That was an odd conversation. He didn't know what to make of Bobby's response, but it didn't really matter. They had a familiar place to stay.

"So what story do you want tonight, Sammy? Sammilocks and the three Wendingos, or Samuel and Gretel?"

Sam laughed, pulling up his covers. "Dean! Just tell me a regular bedtime story. Like the one about the girl who went to sleep for a long time?"

"Sleeping Beauty?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not too sure I remember that one."

"That's okay," Sam snuggled down into the bed, "the parts you make-up are usually the best part anyway." He grinned at Dean.

For a split second that grin was so familiar it triggered a memory from their childhood.

Dean wrapped an arm around his little brother, Sammy. Sammy's birthday was tomorrow and he would be a big seven year old, but that didn't keep him from snuggling up to his big brother at night, especially when there was a big thunderstorm outside.

"Dean? Can I have a story? One with dragons and fairies?" Sammy asked.

"Not Sleeping Beauty again? Sammy, I'm getting a little tired of that one." Dean groaned, pulling up the covers.

"Please, Dean? And do the voices of the witch and the dragon." Sammy demanded.

"Sammy…"

"Please, Dean? Please?" Sam batted his big eyes at Dean.

Dean sighed, trying to sound heavily put upon. "Fine. A long, long time ago a princess was born."

"Dean?" Sam watched expectantly from his bed.

"Sorry, Sam. Yeah, okay. Sleeping Beauty, huh? Okay, once upon a time, there was this really hot chick…"

"Dean!"

"What!"

"Do it right, Dean." Sam shook a finger at him.

Dean sighed. "A long, long time ago, a princess was born." Sam smiled as he snuggled down into the bed. Dean lay back against the headboard as he struggled to remember the storyline. Sam fussed at him when he did the voices wrong, but his voice had changed since Sam was little. He really couldn't do the squeaky, high-pitched witch's voice so he tried to sound like Sam's bitch doctor, which Sam did not appreciate for some strange reason. Finally Sam nodded off to sleep and Dean could turn out the lights.

He stared up at the dark ceiling for a long time, unable to sleep. What the hell was he going to do?