Well, the alerts are down. Again. I was going to wait, but some of you are persistent enough to look for the updates and I don't want to let you down!

Chapter 4

Dean woke early in the morning. His first action was to check on Sam, who was still sleeping soundly. He tried to remember the last time his baby brother had slept so well, unplagued by nightmares or visions. He wondered if he had time to slip out and grab breakfast before Sam woke, but he thrust the idea from his mind. Normal Sam – sure, no problem. Sam who thinks he's five – uh uh, no way. Sam would freak if he woke up by himself.

He tried to remember how old Sam was the first time he and Dad left his brother someplace other than the Impala alone. Well, it was a lot older than five, he was sure of that. He rubbed his eyes, still wondering. Had they ever left Sam alone?

"Dean?" Sam's voice mumbled from the other bed. "I want Lucky Charms."

"Sammy?" Dean rolled out of bed. "You awake?"

"Lucky Charms," Sam repeated. "Not scabettios." His eyes were shut tight.

"Sam." Dean shook him gently. "Sammy."

Sam's eyes cracked open. "Dean?" He sat up, looked around. "Where are we?"

"Still at the motel," Dean answered gently.

Sam looked up at him. "Will we see Dad today, Dean?"

"No, Sammy. Not today. Let's get dressed, we have a long drive ahead of us." He wondered how long he could put off Sam's questions about Dad. Dean figured not much longer, Sam always was too persistent for his own good.

"Where are we going, Dean?" Sam asked, bouncing out of bed with a huge grin.

"We're going to Bobby's," Dean said, stuffing clothes into his duffel.

Sam frowned. "Who's Bobby?"

Dean cringed. He didn't know how long they had been visiting Bobby's, but he had assumed Sam would not need an explanation. "He's a good friend of Dad's." He carefully avoided eye contact. Sam was too good at picking up on when he was hiding something. "We're going to stay there for a little while."

"Until Dad comes?" Sam asked, sounding excited.

"For a while," Dean replied evasively.

"Dean? Where's my green shirt?" Sam demanded, searching through his duffel. "Did you do something with it?"

Dean tried to remember if Sam had a green shirt. "Why don't you wear the purple one with the horse?"

"I don't have…" Sam pulled out a purple shirt. He unfolded it, revealing the white horse. "Hey, cool. I don't remember this." He pulled it on. "Dean, what do you think? Awesome, right?"

Dean had a number of descriptions for a guy wearing a purple shirt with a white horse emblazoned across the front, and not one included the word 'awesome,' although several did include the word 'chick' or 'girly.' He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent those from spilling out and hurting Sammy's feelings, so he just nodded, thinking silence was probably the best way to go.

Sam admired his shirt in the mirror. "Dean? When did I get so big? I kinda look grown up."

"When you started eating your vegetables like I told you," Dean answered evenly, heading to the bathroom to collect the rest of their stuff.

When he came back out, he saw the rest of Sam's clothes were stuffed in his brother's duffel. There were colored bits sticking out which Sam was persistently trying to force inside.

"Need some help, Sammy?" Dean asked, sticking their toiletries inside his duffel.

"No," Sam insisted.

Sam looked strange. It took Dean a minute to realize why. "Sam? Did you shave?"

Sam raised his eyes with a puzzled look. "Shave?"

Shit. He forgot. Dean pulled his electric razor out of his bag and held it up. "Come on." He nodded to the bathroom. Hesitating only a moment with indecision, Dean decided to shave again himself. The cute, perky nurse had been the only one Sam would allow to come near him with the noisy razor they used at the hospital. That was just another reason Dean had cut her so much slack.

When he finished he handed over his razor to Sam. "Want to give it a spin?" he asked, grinning.

"For real, Dean? You're gonna let me try your razor?" Sam gasped, reaching for it like it was a precious object.

"Why not? You've been eating your veggies." Dean moved so Sam could stand in front of the mirror. He watched closely as Sam shaved, making sure his brother didn't shave any place that didn't need it. A few spots were missed, but overall it wasn't too bad. Sammy looked more like Sam when he was finished.

"Well?" Sam asked, looking to Dean for approval.

"Good job," Dean replied with a nod. He knew Sam did not own an electric razor, preferring the smoothness of shaving with one of those yuppie triple blade things. "Maybe we need to find one just for you? Maybe like the one you had at the hospital."

Sam's nose wrinkled. "Didn't like it. Too noisy. But I like yours."

"Works for me," Dean agreed, knowing his razor was almost as noisy as the other one. "But it'll have to wait until we've made it through a couple of towns first."

"Why, Dean?" Sam asked, sitting on the bed with a bounce.

Well, that was a stupid thing to say out loud, wasn't it? Dean mentally kicked himself. If this kept up, he was going to develop a bruise on his temporal lobe. God, he was reading way too much about brains. "Stores won't be open until then," he lied, slinging his duffel over his shoulder. "Ready? Got everything?"

"Yep. Can I carry my bag myself, Dean?" Sam asked, eyes bright.

"Sure. Come on." Dean nodded to the door. The car was parked close to their room, fortunately. Dean opened the back door and tossed in his bag. He waited for Sam to do the same. It took Sam three attempts but he finally got it. Again, Dean wondered over Sam's clumsiness. Despite his size, normally Sam was graceful, confident in his steps and movements. Once again the sheer weirdness of the whole situation enveloped him, making it all seem surreal.

"Dean?" Sam's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"Hop in. Let's go." Dean slid in behind the wheel, determined to put as much distance between them and that bitch doctor as possible. He hoped to make it out of the state before they stopped to shop for a razor.

"No clowns," Sam reminded him as he climbed into the passenger seat. Sam's foot caught on the door ledge and Sam tumbled into the car. Dean barely caught his brother's head before it could impact with the wheel.

"Sammy? What happened?" Dean asked as he felt that old familiar panic rising.

Sam looked at him with glazed eyes. "What?"

"Sam," Dean pushed his brother into a sitting position. He reached over to haul Sam's recalcitrant foot into the car. "What happened? Why did you trip?"

Sam blinked hard a few times and his eyes cleared. "Did I trip, Dean? Sorry. I'll be more careful." He slammed his door shut.

Dean stared over at his brother for a long moment before starting the car. He did not like that answer, not one bit. Would he have to find a new doctor for Sam? Damn it! Nothing he read last night said to expect it to get worse. What the hell was up with the clumsiness anyway?

As he pulled out onto the road, his cell went off. Assuming it was Bobby, Dean answered without bothering to check caller id. "Yeah?"

"Dean? Where the hell are you?" Ellen's voice blasted through the phone.

Dean cringed. He had totally forgotten his promise to check on whatever was littering the edges of a small town with mutilated bodies. "Ellen," he breathed, reminding himself to keep the car in just one lane. "Uh, sorry. I should have called."

"Damn straight you should have called!" She shouted into the phone. "I've been trying to call you for three days, but your cell just went straight to voicemail. Voicemail doesn't do me a damn bit of good, Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. As if he didn't have enough to deal with, now Ellen was pissed at him. "I forgot about the case. And I wasn't allowed to have my cell on in the hospital."

"Dean! Is it Dad?" Sam demanded from the passenger seat. Dean shook his head, waiting for Ellen to continue her rant.

"Forgot! How the hell do you forget about a case? And what hospital?" Before Dean could answer, Ellen's voice dropped to just below a shout. "One of you boys hurt?"

Dean sighed. Sam stared at him like he was lying and Ellen needed the answer that would get him off the hook. "Sam. It was a hit-and-run."

Sam pointed a finger at him. "You lied. It is Dad, isn't it? You said you wouldn't tell!"

Dean tried to convey with his eyes that it wasn't Dad, but Sam was not buying it.

"Dean? Is he okay?" Ellen's voice filled with worry. He felt a small surge of relief, maybe he was off the hook. Then again, he reflected, it wouldn't really matter if he was off the hook or not.

"That depends on your definition of okay," Dean answered, unwilling to disclose the full details with his brother sitting right beside him. "Let's just say we won't be hunting anything for a while."

A strong hand wrenched the phone from his grasp. Dean had to let it go or risk driving off the road. He shot Sam a strong look, which Sam returned.

"Dad? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get hurt." Sam babbled into the phone. "Please don't punish Dean for it."

"Give me the phone, Sam," Dean demanded, holding out his hand.

"Not until I hear what Dad says!" Sam shouted, his voice loud in the confines of the car. "Dad?"

Dean glanced over as often as he could, watching Sam. Sam's face twisted into disbelief as his eyes widened. Silently he placed the phone into Dean's outstretched hand and looked out the window.

"Sam? You there, sweetie?" Ellen's voice rang out.

"It's me," Dean sighed.

"What was all that about your dad, Dean? It was like he didn't remember." Ellen sounded a little scared now. Welcome to my world, thought Dean.

"He doesn't," Dean confirmed, stealing another glance to his right. Sam stared blankly out the window.

"Amnesia?" She asked. Dean heard her breath catch.

"I'd prefer not everyone knew about this," Dean replied.

"No problem, Dean. I can find someone else to look into that job, I just wish you had called."

"Sorry." Had it even crossed his mind, he would have called. Even last night in the motel room, his only concern had been Sam. To be honest, he did not feel sorry in the least, but Ellen did not need to know that. "I'll try to give you a call later."

"Okay. You two take care. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Can you restore nearly twenty years of Sam's memory? Can you change him back into my pain in the ass brother? "Sure, Ellen. Thanks. Bye." He ended the call before she could say anything else. Shoving the phone under his thigh, he glanced over at Sam again. Same position.

"Sammy? You getting hungry?" Dean asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"I thought that was Dad," Sam mumbled.

"I told you it wasn't," Dean pointed out and immediately regretted it.

Anger clouded Sam's face as he glared at Dean. Dean wondered if he should pull off the road, just in case. "Dean. Where is Dad?"

Dean swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on the road. "What do you mean, Sammy?"

"Where is Dad?" Sam asked again. This time his voice sounded so normal, so demanding, hope flared in Dean's chest.

"Sam?" He chanced a look over. "Is that you?"

Sam glared at him, chin out in defiance, eyes blazing. Dean had to pull off on the side of the road. He turned in his seat. "Sam?" he asked again gently.

Then Sam's arms folded over his chest, his chin ducked down to press against his collarbone and his eyes closed.

"Sammy?" Dean reached out to grasp his brother's shoulder, give him a little shake. "You with me here?"

"What happened, Dean?" Sam's voice was soft and sad. "Where's Dad?" Sam looked up, tears streaming down his face. "He always comes when we're in the hospital, Dean. What happened?"

"Not always," Dean muttered before he could stop himself. That was not fair, he told himself, the man was not even around to offer a defense. Okay, maybe that part was not fair, but it was still true. A small part of him still held onto the bitterness stemming from the fact when he was dying, when the doctors offered no hope, his father could not even manage a simple phone call. He wondered, not for the first time, if that was the motivation for when it happened a second time that his dad…he shook it off. "What do you remember, Sammy?" he asked softly.

Sam shook his head. "I know something happened," he said in a small voice.

"Yeah. Something happened." Dean answered, his own voice barely above a whisper as he tried to force away the last image of his father, in the hospital with all those people trying to revive him. Dad's official time of death till echoed in his mind.

"Dad's not coming." It was not a question, it was a statement.

"No." He wished he had another answer for Sam. He could have lied, he knew, but that felt wrong. The fewer lies he told Sam, he reasoned, the more likely Sam could recover his memories. Not that he would really blame his brother for blocking out the last couple of years, but most of his life? Well, Sam always was an overachiever.

With a sigh, Dean pulled back onto the road. "You about ready to shop for a new electric razor?" he asked.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam wipe the tears away. "I guess."

"You want a quiet one, huh?" Dean asked, trying to keep on a safe topic.

"With Spiderman," Sam said with a nod.

"Spiderman?" Dean glanced over. "Seriously? I don't think they make those."

Sam's face fell again. Afraid the tears might return, Dean's mind jumped to a solution. "But we could pick up some Spiderman stickers, and you could decorate it."

"Okay." Sam managed a weak smile. "Okay, Dean." Sam scooted over on the seat until he sat right next to Dean. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" He wondered over Sam's actions.

"Something's not going to happen to you. Right?" Sam's head leaned over, resting heavily on Dean's shoulder.

"Who? Me? Nah."