A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them.

xxxx

Sam was bouncing off the walls. Almost literally. Bobby sighed and wondered, not for the first time, how in the hell he had ended up babysitting for a fourteen year old who was antsy about his brother and who had been laid up for two days.

"Sam, you sure you don't want to watch a movie?" He asked again, hopefully; not like they had a big selection, but he was still convinced that Sam might want to watch The Karate Kid or Terminator.

"No," Sam answered shortly, then went back to pacing around the tiny coffee table. Bobby guessed that he'd gone about fifty laps already, was a bit surprised that there was still carpeting where he'd been walking.

"What about something to eat?" Again, not much choice, but still, when didn't a PB&J sound good to a kid?

"No." Bobby was running out of options.

"Come on, Sam, what do you want to do?" Sam stopped in his pacing and made steely eye contact with the older hunter, who suddenly realized that he had set the kid up exactly as he wanted.

"I want to see Dean." It was said with a clenched jaw and fiery eyes, and Bobby realized that the kid wasn't just antsy, he was borderline dangerous. Damn, he acted just like John. Speaking of which, if John didn't call soon… Bobby shuddered. There might not be anybody left to call.

"Sam, you need to be patient, you hear? 'S not lie I can do anything to change how long it takes." Sam didn't appear to hear him, or at least gave no sign of caring, simply resuming his pacing.

"Bobby," Sam said suddenly, a frown on his face. "You really think he's going to be okay, right?" The look on his face spoke volumes, fear and trepidation and worry rolled into one expression, an expression that Bobby didn't think he should have to see on a face so young.

"Look, Sam, I don't know for certain, but I know that your brother is one of the stubbornedest sons of bitches I've ever known, and I honestly think that it's gonna take more than this to bring Dean Winchester down." Sam nodded and bit his lip, and Bobby could see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I think Dean is meant for bigger things, Sam, I really do." Sam snorted, then smiled.

"Yeah, I guess. He still hasn't banged a supermodel, so…bigger things, right?" Bobby chuckled, glad that, at least for now, Sam was somewhat calmed and that he had helped to comfort him. The boys meant more to him than anyone else, though Bobby would never admit it; any problems he had with John, and there were quite a few, took a backseat to the welfare of the youngest Winchesters. His phone rang suddenly, startling him out of his musings, and Sam was practically on top of him before he could even get the cell out.

"John?" Sam watched eagerly, scanning Bobby's face as he reacted to the call. Hanging up, Sam stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Well?" He demanded, breathing quickly. Bobby could see a slight tremor in his hands. Holy crap. He'd known the kid had taken it hard, but…he'd taken it hard.

"Dean's awake." Sam blinked, then wavered, knees buckling. Bobby rushed to his side, caught him before he hit the ground. "You okay?" He asked in concern, and Sam looked at him in confusion.

"I'm good," he muttered. "Just got tired all of a sudden." Bobby nodded understandingly.

"Lot of adrenaline leaving at once will do that to ya," he said, gently helping Sam to his feet again. "Not to mention I'm pretty sure you've worked youself up into a headache. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted quietly, looking at the floor.

"Okay. Let's get you some pain meds and a little rest and you can see him." He could see the annoyance and stubborness creeping over Sam by the set of the jaw, and quickly moved to calm him. "Sam, he isnt' really awake yet, anyway. It was a few moments, max, and he went right back out. Just calm down, okay? You can see him when you're rested up." He held a hand out with the pain pills in it, eyebrows raised expectantly. Sam stared at him for a second before resignedly holding his hand out and accepting the offered meds, popping them in his mouth dry and lying down on the couch.

"Two hours, Bobby," he growled quietly, and Bobby nodded.

"Two hours."

xxxx

Two Hours and Fifteen Minutes Later

Dean was still pasty looking, a sick shade of gray, but he nowhere near as pale as he had appeared when he had been taken out of Sam's room, and he had a bit more color than the last time Sam had seen him. John was sitting at his side, clearly barely able to keep his eyes open, face scrunched slightly from the pain in his leg.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean croaked, and Sam shook his head.

"Sam. It's Sam." Dean smirked.

"Whatever." Sam wanted to say more but was uncertain of how to go about it with John still in the room, and Dean seemed the same way. Bobby's voice easing John out of the room to go get a cup of coffee with him suddenly registered and Sam realized that the older hunter was putting his own discomfort aside to allow them some privacy. He would have to thank him later.

"Dean, that was stupid," Sam said as soon as they were alone. "Like, really stupid. Like I can't even believe…" He trailed off in frustration, hands raised and fists beginning to clench.

"You almost died," he ended finally, voice small. Dean looked at him, flashed that grin that made Sam want to hit him in the face, then drew his brows together into a frown.

"I know," he said quietly, picking idly at the bed sheet. "I'm sorry." Sam slumped tiredly into the chair at Dean's side.

"Me too. I shouldn't have been arguing so much. Dean, you can't let yourself- You can't- what would I do if something happened to you?" He whispered, surprised when Dean nodded.

"Sam, I've been thinking on that," he started, looking at Sam with a half smile. "If I'm not around, who's gonna protect you?" And just like that, Sam's whole world shifted as he came to the realization, for the first time, of how much he meant to his brother. Of how much his brother depended on him being there, on being able to protect him. It was nearly overwhelming in its implications. Dean's whole world, whole reason for being, was for him. For a second, Sam couldn't breathe.

"Sam? Are you okay, Sammy?" Dean's voice was full of concern, and Sam had to take a second to regain some composure. Because he was not okay. Dean should worry about himself, should care what happened to him not for Sam, but for him. And Sam knew then that Dean was his responsibility, just as he was Dean's, because he'd be damned if he was going to let his brother down when Dean obviously needed him so badly.

"I'm fine, Dean," he said finally, looking in a new light at his brother. His strong, tough, vulnerable brother. "Things are going to be different. I promise."