Here is the new chapter, as promised. Big thanks to everyone following this fic! I'm having a ball writing it. And thanks to hotshow, a wellspring of inspiration.

Chapter 14

"Oh, come on, Bobby!" Dean stared at the older man. "You've got to be kidding."

Bobby shook his head. "They can't know for sure, not yet. But it's a working theory."

Dean set his beer on the ground, unsure if he could continue to hold it. "You're trying to tell me that Sam wants to be five." He shook his head. "I just can't believe that."

"Nobody is saying he's doing it consciously, but maybe it's subconscious. Or whatever those psychologists call it." Bobby did not look away, the way people usually did when they lied. The man looked right at him, impressing the importance of this on him.

Regressed to a safer time, in childhood. I'm sorry, I promise not to do it again. You always take care of me. Dean rubbed a hand over his face as phrases from the past week assaulted his mind. It can't be your fault. The glimmerings of an idea were kindled into a small flame. "He's keeping us safe."

"What was that, Dean?" He felt rather than saw Bobby lean closer, straining to hear what he'd said.

"When we were kids, we never hunted. Dad always left us someplace, usually some crappy motel room, with a loaded shotgun that Sammy wasn't allowed to touch." He leaned back, allowing the realization to wash over him. "Sammy was around five or six when…" his voice trailed off as he remembered the shtriga.

"When what?" Bobby's voice was gruff but gentle, prodding him on.

Dean cleared his throat. "When I realized that taking care of Sammy was serious business, and so were Dad's orders."

"So he picked the perfect age for you to look after him," Bobby replied with a nod. "Sam always was too smart for his own good."

"We had a fight," Dean confessed, "about my shoulder. Sam wanted to take at least a week off, let me recover some, but I was determined to go on this hunt Ellen called about. He was furious." His gaze rested on an interesting rust spot. It looked like a dog chasing its tail. "Sam went out to grab something to eat and get away from me for a few minutes. That's when he got hurt." He closed his eyes. So it was all his fault. Not just the fight and Sammy being hit by a car, but the amnesia too. He couldn't protect Sam as an adult, so Sam decided they needed to be kids again.

"There's a psychologist down at the hospital who can talk to Sam," Bobby's voice broke through his raging thoughts of self-incrimination.

"I don't know, Bobby. Let me think about it." He reached back down for his beer. As they sat quietly, each to his own thoughts, a new idea came to mind. "Bobby? I think I have an idea."

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"Come on, Sammy! Hurry up!" Dean shouted into the house.

Sammy ran outside. A really big car sat on the back of a really big truck. It was brown, all covered in dirt and rust. Sammy wrinkled his nose at it.

"Aw, come on, Sammy," his brother slapped his shoulder, "this is just the before. The after will look awesome!"

Sammy turned around to look at his brother. Dean seemed pretty happy about having to work on the dirty car. He wished he could understand why. It was just…dirty.

Standing against the house where it was safe, Sammy watched the men unload the big, dirty car and push it where Dean wanted. Then Dean shook each man's hand before waving Sammy closer. He watched the truck drive off before approaching his brother. One of the men reminded him too much of the mean man Dean beat up.

"What do you think, Sammy? Can we handle it?" Dean asked him.

Sammy tilted his head to study his brother. "We?"

Dean grinned. "You don't think I'm going to do this by myself, do you?"

Sammy looked at his brother's arm in the sling. No, it would not be a good idea for Dean to do any of the heavy stuff by himself. He shook his head. He saw Dean reaching for something off to the side, and an image of Dean beating a car flashed before his eyes. Dean was so angry, angry at everyone and everything, so scary. It scared Sam right down to his toes.

"No!" He lunged forward, snatching the thing from Dean's hand.

Dean looked at him funny. "Sammy? Problem?"

Sammy looked down at the thing he took from Dean. It was a wet sponge. Confused, he met Dean's eyes. "I thought you wanted to beat it up."

"Beat up the car?" Dean asked, still looking at him funny. "We need to get some of this dirt and mud off, so I can see how bad it is." Dean grabbed a bucket of water and moved close to the car. "What made you think I wanted to beat it up?"

Sammy shrugged even though his brother wasn't watching him. "Because you did it last time."

Dean's eyes did look at him then, really hard. Then Dean went back to washing the car. "You gonna help or what?" his brother demanded.

Sammy joined in washing the car. It was kinda fun, more fun than just sitting in Bobby's floor watching cartoons all day. Dean teased him about his hair and how he washed the car. He threw his sponge at Dean once, earning himself a soaking from the bucket. Even one-handed he couldn't get away from Dean. When they finally finished washing the car, Dean stood looking at it.

"It's a lot of work," he told Sammy. "I'm going to need your help to take it apart so we can fix all the rust." Dean squinted at the sun. "Let's check under the hood."

Dean popped the hood. Sammy leaned in next to Dean, wondering what he was supposed to look at, so he looked at everything. There was a black hose thingy that looked like it might fall apart if he breathed on it wrong. "Dean? That looks bad." He pointed it out.

"Yep. Definitely going to have to replace all the hoses and rewire everything," Dean held up some black wires that ended in a tangled mess. Sammy guessed it was supposed to be connected somewhere. "I think we have enough time to pull the engine, so we can really get to it tomorrow. You game?"

Dean's dark green eyes weighed on him, waiting for his answer. Sammy wanted to say no, that he would rather go see what Batman was doing about Catwoman. Instead, he nodded. When Dean grinned at him, Sammy felt his heart speed up. He made Dean happy! That was awesome. After days and days of watching how worried his brother was, to see Dean happy was a huge relief.

Sammy looked over, checking that his Batman was where it could see everything they did. Batman was perched on a nearby car, leaning over, but he should still be able to watch. Sammy grinned, ready to do whatever Dean told him.

By the time Dean announced they could stop for the day, Sammy and Dean were both dripping with sweat and covered in nasty car gunk. But the old engine hung from a heavy chain over the car and Dean patted him on the shoulder.

"Good job! Let's hit the showers." He felt Dean push him toward the house. Then he heard running steps behind him. Sammy spun around to see Dean running away from the house. Curious, he waited. Dean ran to him a few seconds later, holding up Batman. "Don't want to forget this!" Sammy grinned, taking his toy from Dean.

Sammy knew he was supposed to take his shower first, so he raced upstairs. Something funny happened in the shower. One minute he was standing there, washing his hair, and the next he was lying in the bottom of the shower with Dean shouting at him.

"Sammy! Sammy!"

Sammy frowned. "Dean, I'm not done yet. Get out." He waved his brother away.

Dean sat on the closed toilet. "Sammy, you fell in the shower. Did you know that?"

Sammy sat up. His back and butt felt sore, just like he had fallen. Why did he never remember falling down? That was really annoying. "It's okay, Dean. Get out."

Dean gave him another one of those funny, worried looks before he left. Maybe his brother worried too much about him? Sammy really liked it at first, but not so much now. Especially in the shower. If Dean tried to make him start taking baths, he was going to throw a bigger fit than the one in the ER the other night, and make sure he broke something next time.

Sammy stood, testing his feet. He was not dizzy. He was okay. The water was still on, so he rinsed off quick before stepping out. Water dripped all over the floor while he dried himself off. When he looked in the mirror, Sammy saw his hair dripped all over his shoulders. Frowning, he rubbed his towel over his head. Dean did not need to do what he could do himself! Sammy dropped the towel in the floor opening the door, naked. He forgot his clothes again.

When he opened the door Dean stood with his back to him, sleep clothes balanced on Dean's hurt shoulder. Sammy took the clothes and dressed. When he was finished, he announced, "All done."

Dean went into the bathroom. Sammy noticed his brother had a bundle of clothes under one arm and the blue sling was no where in sight. He checked their room. The blue sling was on Dean's bed. Sammy sat next to it. Doctor Wayne told him to make sure Dean wore it all the time, and he was going to do just that. He did not like it when Dean was hurt, and he knew Dean would ignore that hurt shoulder if Sammy let him. So Sammy waited for his big brother.

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Dean returned from showering to find Sammy sitting on his bed, waiting for him. "What's up?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at his little brother.

Sammy held up that damned blue contraption. "You need this."

Dean held in the groan threatening to surge up his throat. "I wore it all day, Sammy. Cut me some slack."

"No. Doctor Wayne said you need to wear it all the time and he said I'm responsible." Sammy thrust the sling at him. "Put it on."

Dean pulled back the collar of his shirt, revealing the red welt there. "It hurts my neck, Sam. Come on, give me the evening off."

Sammy examined the skin. Dean thought he won when he saw his brother frowning. Then Sammy dug through his duffel. When his hand emerged with an old black t-shirt, Dean wondered what the hell his brother was up to. Sammy headed out of the room, shirt dangling from his hand.

Dean followed Sammy downstairs to Bobby's desk. Bobby sat behind it, reading through an out-of-state newspaper. "What is it?"

"Bobby, can I use your scissors, please?" Sammy asked.

Bobby shrugged, opening the center drawer and handing over the sharp items. Dean really had to give the man credit. He certainly seemed to take this totally bizarre situation right in stride, and not once had Bobby made Sam feel inferior. That was something Dean would be eternally grateful for. Even if Bobby kicked them out in a few days.

Sammy took the scissors and sliced into his shirt. Dean watched, amazed over his brother's actions. When Sammy had a long strip of black cloth, he set the scissors down. "Put it on," he demanded, turning to Dean.

Dean made a face, but he put the sling back on. Sammy took the black cloth and wound it around and around the strap where it bit into his neck. When his brother was done it was more comfortable, even if Dean hated to admit it.

"Better?" Sammy asked as Bobby chuckled.

"I guess," Dean grumbled, shifting it around.

Sammy flashed a brilliant smile before heading over to Bobby's television, where Batman waited for him.

"He's got your number," Bobby said, grinning.

Dean shot him a sour look. "Whatever."

"So does Doc Wayne," Bobby continued.

Dean drummed the fingers of his free hand on Bobby's desk. "Any luck with that research? Figuring out where these original cat things like to hole up?"

Bobby set his newspaper aside with a sigh. "No, not really. There just aren't that many legends about them. At least not written. I found one more reference, and all it said was that they like their prey to be convenient." Bobby shrugged. "Since their favorite prey is human, the damn thing could be anywhere."

"Maybe," Dean sat on Bobby's desk, one foot swinging free. "Sam said he talked to it. That it offered to help him remember." He glanced at Sammy watching cartoons. How did a grown man appear so innocent?

"So? It probably lied."

Dean turned to face Bobby again. "Probably. But that means it talks. Like us." Dean waited a second, until he saw the idea dawn on Bobby's face. "And if it talks like us…"

"Maybe it thinks like us?" Bobby sat forward, leaning on the desk. "What are you thinking here, Dean?"

"I'm thinking, if I were one of those things and had to watch hunters wipe out my entire family, I'd want revenge." Dean dropped his voice to just above a whisper, not wanting Sammy to hear. "Bobby, when was the last time you heard from those other hunters? The ones who helped out?"

All expression fell from Bobby's face. "See what you can scrounge up for dinner. I have some calls to make."

Dean did not wait for Bobby to reach for the phone. If other hunters might be in trouble, Bobby would not waste any time. "Sammy? You hungry? Let's see if we can find anything to eat!"