All right, I will answer the reviews when the alerts come back up, but I am trying to read them all anyway. Thanks so much for reading despite the lack of alerts!! Okay, this chapter should be entertaining and explain why that doctor is so intent to get her claws into Sammy.

Chapter 5

Shopping with a six-foot-four five year old was an experience, to say the least. First, Dean had to pick one of those stores that sold every damn thing under the sun because he figured that would be the only way to buy an electric razor and Spiderman stickers in one stop. Plus, they would be paying in cash so he wanted to get out of there as cheaply as possible. The credit card he was using had the name Mahogoff and he didn't want to leave a papertrail.

To say the parking lot was huge would be an understatement, and for some reason at ten on a Thursday morning it was over half full, forcing them to park some ways from their objective. Of course, that meant more hand holding. Dean resigned himself to the fact everyone they met today would think he was gay. Period. No middle ground. No need for a neon sign even.

What he had not counted on was the fact the toy section was right next to personal hygiene. Really, what freaking moron thought of that shit? That was plain sadistic. Women with small children couldn't shop for toothpaste without cries of "Mommy, I want!" As Dean perused the electric razors, Sam kept drifting off towards the brightly colored toys.

"Sam!" Dean reached out to yank his brother back beside him. He picked up a box and thrust it in Sam's hands. "What do you think of this one?"

Sam barely glanced down at it. "Is it like yours?" His eyes were riveted across the aisle.

Dean suppressed the growl he felt crawling up his throat. "It's similar," he lied, just wanting to get the hell out of there.

Sam shrugged. "Okay, if you say so."

Dean took the box and threw it back onto the shelf. He spotted the newer model of his razor a few steps away and grabbed it. "Here it is," he muttered to himself. "Why do they have to hide stuff?"

As he turned triumphantly to Sam, Dean realized his brother was gone. One moment Sam stood right beside him and the next – nothing but air. Dean looked from side to side, but Sam had not crawled onto any of the shelves on this aisle, not that he would fit. He fought down a surge of panic as he raced to the end of the aisle, hoping Sam had not made it far. Six-foot-four with a shaggy brown mop for hair ought to be easy to spot.

Dean barely dodged an elderly woman pushing a shopping cart full of flowers and vitamins as he ran full tilt out of the razor aisle. He stopped in the middle of the wide walkway separating personal hygiene from toys to look around frantically, the razor box stuck under his arm.

"Dean!" Sam's voice called out. Dean spun around to follow it. Sam waved to him from deep inside the toy department. "Dean, come see this!"

Dean grumbled to himself about sadistic mega-store chains as he made his way through shoppers who should be working normal jobs instead of being here, in his way. When he reached his brother, Sam was standing in front of row after row of superhero action figures. Great. Perfect.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"Dean, can I get a toy?" Sam turned wide, puppy dog eyes on him. "Just one? Please?"

Dean bit his lip in indecision. Buying Sam a toy would make him happy, and would probably be better amusement than just watching cartoons all the time. However, if Sam started collecting toys, could that reinforce his conception of himself as a kid instead of an adult? Shit! What was the right decision here?

"I want that one." Sam pointed out a large Batman action figure.

"Batman?" Dean frowned. "I thought you liked Spiderman?" He picked up the equally large, multi-jointed Spiderman figure.

From the way Sam grinned, Dean had a feeling whatever his brother was planning to say would make him buy the damn thing. "But Batman doesn't have any super powers, just his brain and his muscles." The grin widened. He was seriously in trouble. "Just like you and Dad."

Oh, low blow! Dean rolled his eyes, not really buying the comparison for an instant, seeing it for the manipulation it was. "Fine," he breathed. "Did you find any stickers for your razor?"

Sam had a hand behind his back. He whipped it out now with a full sheet of cartoon hero stickers. Dean wanted to demand how Sam could find all this crap so fast when it took him so damn long to locate one freaking razor, but he bit it back. "Let's go," he said, leading them toward the cash register.

"Dean!" Sam stood in the middle of the walkway, forcing people with carts to careen around him.

"What now, Sammy?" Dean tried to drag him closer to the registers. There were about thirty, but only five were open. Gee, that made sense. If shoppers had time to come in on a Thursday morning, then obviously they had time to stand and wait two hours in line. Yep, these frigging stores were run by sadists, there was no doubt. He wondered if he could find a demonic connection. That might be worth looking into.

Sam pointed to the far wall, all the way at the other end of the sea of closed registers. There was one of those frigging clown restaurants over there! God damn it. Seriously, God, I tried. Damn it! There had to be a demonic connection, he was sure of it. He and Bobby were looking into this. Soon.

"Sammy, we are not going out that way, okay. Just stick by me." Dean headed to the line winding toward the closest register. He felt a sharp pull on his shirt and knew Sam was clinging to him. Maybe a different tactic would work.

"Sammy. Pretend you're Batman, okay?" Dean pointed to the boxed action figure clutched in Sam's other hand. He nodded his head at the clown place. "That's the Joker's hideout. Would Batman be scared?" What in the hell was he doing? Joker? Batman? Maybe he needed to find a doctor too, and one of those nice, quiet, padded white rooms. He glanced back to see if it was working.

Sam shook his head. "You're Batman," he insisted. "I'm Robin. Robin's allowed to be scared."

With a grin, Dean realized he could work with that. "But would Robin ever take off on Batman just because he's scared?" He waited until Sam shook his head. "Would Robin not go with Batman because he's too scared?" Sam shook his head again. "Okay then, Robin."

Satisfied with his own twisted, comic book logic, Dean turned to face the line again. They needed to take a step forward. He sighed. This was going to take forever.

"Interesting tactic." A young woman with two small children stood in front of him in line. "I may have to remember that."

Dean flashed her a smile. She was cute. Of course, the two small children were the equivalent of red flashing neon 'danger', but flirting never hurt.

"I'm getting a Batman," Sam said from over his shoulder. Dean tried not to wince or look annoyed. Sammy was definitely going to put a serious crimp in his flirting.

"I see that," the woman said with a smile. "Very nice."

One of the kids, who looked to actually be about five, held up a Spiderman attached to a motorbike. "Look what I gots."

Sam bent down to inspect it. "I didn't see that one," he mumbled. Dean feared losing their place in the line furthest from the clown place to exchange the toy. "I think I like mine better," Sam announced, straightening up.

Dean realized the sigh of relief came from him when the woman smiled. "Once we're in line, that's it. They're stuck with it," she told him. "Gotta set boundaries."

Dean nodded. "Good advice. But yours are smaller than you."

She laughed as they inched forward. "True. I didn't think about that." Unlike the people who stared at them in the clown restaurant yesterday, there was no judgment in her eyes or voice. "So you are?"

"Brothers," Dean supplied automatically, conditioned by too many motel clerks jumping to assumptions.

"Sammy." His brother said. "He's my big brother, Dean."

"Lila," she replied. "Danny and Liz." She motioned to her kids. Dean nodded at them and Sam waved.

"Sammy, you sound really proud of your big brother," Lila said, finally arriving at the register. She dumped handfuls of items from her cart onto the conveyor belt.

"Dean's the best big brother," Sam said earnestly. Dean felt the heat in his cheeks. Sam thought he was the best, huh? If he really were the best big brother, his little brother would never have been out alone to get hit by a car in the first damn place. Dean's gaze dropped to the floor with a sigh.

"I'm sure he is," Lila said. Dean could not meet her eyes. He heard the cashier announce her total.

"Dean!" Sam gave him a shove. "They're leaving. Wave!"

Dean forced his eyes up and offered a small smile to Lila.

"Sammy, you look after your big brother now," Lila called out as she arranged her kids in her shopping cart for the trip through that horrible parking lot.

"Okay!" Sam waved, a big goofy grin plastered across his face.

Without another word, Dean paid for their purchases and took Sam's hand as they left the store. Inside the car, he had to rescue Batman from his packaging. It was a battle, the packaging put up more of a fight than some vengeful spirits. Finally Dean gave up wrestling with all the stupid wire twist ties and went to the trunk. He found his wire cutters and had Batman out in less than twenty seconds. Sam was delighted.

As Dean slid behind the wheel again, Sam shouted, "You're the best, Dean!" He held up Batman triumphantly.

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm not, Sammy." He looked out through the front windshield at the people arriving to shop on their lunch hour. Poor, deluded fools. "It's my fault."

"What's your fault, Dean?" Sam's voice had a quiver to it that Dean ignored.

"Remember when you asked me how you hit your head?" Dean asked, concentrating on the traffic passing by. "You were hit by a car."

He glanced over quickly, before he lost his nerve. Sam's head tilted to one side. "Your car?" By his tone, Dean knew Sam did not think that possible.

Dean shook his head. "No. We had a fight. You were mad at me and left. While you were out, you got hit by a car."

Sam gasped. "Oh, Dean! I'm so sorry! I know I'm not supposed to cross the street by myself! I promise, Dean, I promise I won't do it again. Honest. Promise."

Not supposed to cross the street. Won't do it again. Regressed to a safer time, in childhood. Something flickered in Dean's mind. There was not quite enough to take root, but the glimmerings of it remained.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam," Dean replied strongly. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have let you go." Or maybe I should have listened better. "I shouldn't have argued with you like that."

Sam's eyes were wide and wet. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't want you to get into trouble."

He sighed, checking his rearview mirror before backing up. The sight of red flashing lights caused his heart to pound. "Son of a bitch," he breathed, watching the cop car careen around the corner. He fully expected it to race into the parking lot and corner them, but it disappeared down the street behind a strip center. Dean had to wait a minute before his breathing returned to normal.

"Dean?" Sam's hand grabbed his arm. "You okay?"

Dean flashed his brother a smile. "Sure, Sammy. We need to get to Bobby's."

"Are the police scary, Dean?" Sam asked as Dean carefully maneuvered around shoppers and cars vulturing for closer parking spots.

"Sometimes, Sammy. Sometimes."

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Doctor Elizabeth Jeffries paced the length of her office, watching the maintenance crew finally replacing her broken door. Damn that Mahogoff!

"Elizabeth," Doctor John Morgan poked his head in, skirting the crew. "Got a minute?"

"Sure," she sighed, weaving between the three men the union required to replace one stupid door. "What is it?" she demanded when they were safely out of earshot.

"Heard anything on Sammy?" Morgan asked, his brow creased with worry.

"Not yet. But it's only a matter of time," she replied airily.

"A matter of time!" he hissed. "That kid could be a ticking time bomb!"

"Keep your voice down," she barked as they passed a nurses station.

"You saw those test results," he whispered. "If the fluid on his brain continues to increase…"

"I know!" Jeffries snapped, smoothing her hair. "At his current level, Sammy is probably experiencing mild strokes, which would look like clumsiness. If it continues to rise," she checked to be certain no one could overheard, "he could lapse into a coma. Believe me, John, I know. Why do you think I alerted the police and the media?" She sighed heavily. "I don't want my license revoked any more than you do."

"Me?" Morgan stopped, looking at her in amazement. "You're his doctor. I had nothing to do with it."

She glared at him. "Funny, but your name appears right beside mine on that paper we're writing. I'd say the jury would find you culpable." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. "If I go down, it won't be alone."

Morgan swallowed hard, tugging at his collar. "Need any help with that police thing?"