Chapter Six

Dean closed and locked the motel door as Sam stood staring at the bed.

"Sam?" Dean asked. His brother turned to him, his arms wrapped around himself. "You gonna be okay?"

In response, Sam glanced at the motel door for a second. Dean looked over and spotted the problem.

"Tell you what…" said Dean, grabbing one of the chairs. "Let's just put this right here." He shoved the back of the chair up under the door handle, jamming the legs against the floor. "There we go. That's better."

Sam visibly relaxed a little and climbed into bed. He lay on his side, arms wrapped around himself and legs drawn halfway up to his body. Dean put their bags by the door and took off his jacket, laying it over a chair. He turned the light off and looked over at Sam. He drew his legs into himself even further. Dean kicked his boots off and walked to the bed, slowly laying himself down next to Sam.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam, giving his little brother an anchor of safety. For a moment, Sam just lay there breathing until he leaned into Dean's touch, accepting his brother's offer of comfort. Sam's breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep.

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Dean woke up to an empty bed. He bolted up in bed, hand halfway to his phone when he heard the shower running. Dean got up and knocked on the door. The was a small shriek, and something was dropped in the shower.

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam shouted. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry, princess," Dean called through the door. "Didn't think you'd be so jumpy."

"You would be, too, if you'd almost been raped!" Sam shouted.

Dean grimaced. Rape. He hated that word. Every time he thought about that bastard pinning his brother to the bed, Sam's limbs trembling in terror, the more he wanted to get his hands on that son of a bitch and finish the job.

"Hurry up!" Dean called. "We got an appointment!"

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"Where are we going, Dean?" asked Sam.

"You'll see," said Dean. They had just gotten out of the doctor's office to news that everything was going as planned, and Dean had headed the opposite direction of their motel.

"Come on, man," said Sam. "I don't like surprises."

"Sure you do, Sammy," said Dean as he pulled off the highway. Sam sat up straighter as he recognized the road.

"No, Dean," said Sam as they pulled into Bobby's junkyard. "Bobby can't see me like this."

"He already has," said Dean. Sam looked at him. "When you were…he stopped by, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam muttered.

"Hey, I promised him I'd take you over when, or if, you got your memory back," said Dean. "He's been looking for something to change you back."

Sam's eyes shot over to Dean. "Wait! You—"

"It's okay. I told him to wait until the baby was born." Sam stared at him, amazed. "What, I saw that sonogram, too. You're not the only one who doesn't want to kill the kid."

Sam smiled as Dean parked the car. "Never knew you were the fatherly type."

"After raising you since I was four, you kidding me?" said Dean. "It's in my bones."

Sam opened his door and slowly made his way out of the car as Dean knocked on Bobby's door. Bobby opened his door as Sam walked up the porch.

"Hey, Dean," said Bobby. He looked past Dean at Sam. "Hello, Samantha." Dean started laughing as Sam hit him in the back of the head.

"It's me, Bobby," Sam told him.

"You remember?" asked Bobby.

"Remember what?" asked Sam. "The night from hell?" Dean stopped laughing as he blushed. "Yeah, it's me."

"He got his memory back last night," Dean explained.

"How?" asked Bobby.

"I think he shocked himself back into reality," said Dean. "A ghost attacked me."

"I saw a ghost throw Dean across the road, so I jumped for the salt gun," Sam explained. "It just came back in that second."

"Did you find anything?" asked Dean.

Bobby shook his head. "Not yet. I'll keep looking."