Chapter 11

The annoying buzz of his alarm woke Sam far too early. With a groan, he shut it off. Last night Sam decided none of them were going to work or school today, but he forgot to turn off the damn alarm. They were up until the early morning looking at all the stuff Dean collected for his box. Strange, Sam meant to ask how long Dean had The Box, but he never did. Probably too late now, he reflected, forcing himself out of bed.

Sam stretched, moving slowly out of the room he and Dean shared, hoping not to wake his brother. There had been considerable debate on how the sleeping arrangements would be in the apartment. Rae wanted three beds in one room, Dean wanted to share a room with Rae, and Sam barely managed to convince them that Rae needed her own room which left him and Dean to share. So, of course, finding Dean in her room occasionally was not a surprise, which was the reason he stocked up on disposable cameras.

He found his cell phone on the charger in the kitchen. Sam pressed the call button, knowing it would dial Dean's number.

"Uh, hello?" It was the same voice from yesterday, the man who told him Dean had been taken by ambulance to the hospital. He hoped any other calls the man had taken were from women and not related to their real jobs.

"This is Sam, Dean's brother. Can I meet you over breakfast to get his cell phone? I'll buy."

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"Well, it was weird, you know?" Marty, one of Dean's coworkers, hunched over his meal like a wild animal might break in and nab it. Armed with a fork in one hand and a slice of toast in the other, he attacked his plate of eggs, sausage and hash browns.

Sam sipped his coffee. "Weird how?"

"We were just talking about Cindy, and then Joey notices Dean's breathing funny. Got real red in the face, too. Next thing we know, he's got a hand on his chest and he's falling out of his chair." Marty shoveled in the food. Sam was beginning to understand why Dean ate out with this guy. They had identical table manners, and he refused to compare their eating habits.

"Who's Cindy?" Sam asked.

"Huh?"

"Cindy. You said you were talking about Cindy. Who's Cindy?" Sam leaned forward, desperately trying not to stare at the egg dangling from Marty's heavy beard.

"Oh, Cindy." Marty shook his head as he talked around a mouthful of hash browns. "She's Joey's oldest. Only sixteen and pregnant." He shook his head again. "Of course, Joey should have known better. Her boyfriend is twenty-two, man!" He shoveled in another mouthful. "Now she's gonna need a sitter during graduation, in two years."

Sam spun his coffee mug in his hands. "And that's when it happened? When he had the attack?"

Marty nodded, shoving the toast in his mouth. "Boom," he mimed Dean's fall with his hands. "Scared the shit outta us," he said, small sprays of toast crumbs showering the table. "But he's okay now?"

Sam swallowed hard. Watching Marty eat made him nauseous. "Yeah, he's okay now. He should be back at work tomorrow."

Marty's head bobbed. "Good. The guys'll be glad to hear that. Nobody charms the customers like Dean, man."

"I'll bet," Sam mumbled, throwing some cash down on the table. "I have to go. I'll give Dean your regards."

"Thanks for breakfast!" Marty waved as Sam walked out.

Sam walked to the Impala, reflecting on what Marty told him. That coupled with the conversation they nearly had the other day, about boys and Rae and not being able to handle it, told Sam exactly what he needed to know. Dean was having panic attacks about Rae growing up. Great. What the hell was he supposed to do about that?

Sam slid into the driver's seat, cranking the motor, listening to its rumble. If they were still on the road, none of this would be an issue. He had been the one forcing the social issue, the normal life and school stuff. Rae hadn't been the slightest bit interested either. Sam leaned his head against the steering wheel, forcing himself to breathe deep.

Okay, he pushed it this far. So the very least he could do is be there with Dean, side with him against the boys. Maybe that would help, Dean not feeling alone in all this. Sam rolled his eyes, putting the big car in drive. Like Dean would even let him. The last time Dean tried talking about this ended in a death threat. Well, granted, Sam could have been just a touch more sympathetic. That might have helped. No time like the present.

Sam pulled in at the first convenience store he saw. He needed a peace offering. Ten minutes later he was armed with a six pack, the large bag of peanut M&Ms, and three packages of beef jerky. Back at the apartment, he nearly lost his nerve. How ticked would Dean be over his secret box being shared?

Sam pushed open the door, hoping but not believing no one would be up yet.

"Hey Uncle Sam! Dad says I don't have to go to school today because you stole the car." Rae grinned from the couch.

Sam smiled back. "I didn't think you'd be going anyway. We were up pretty late last night."

She stretched and yawned, nodding. Rae looked toward his bedroom and jerked her head in that direction a couple of times. Sam gave her a look that asked 'is he mad.' Her response was a look that clearly said 'duh!'

Sam heaved a sigh before heading to the bedroom door. "Hey, Dean! I got your cell." No response. "And beer." Still nothing.

Sam groaned to himself as he carried his peace offering to the kitchen. He put the beer in the fridge but left the other stuff out. Time to face the music, the very loud, heavy metal music. He shot Rae a smile as he passed, but she just shook her head at him. Oh yeah, this was going to be bad.

With a deep breath to steel himself, Sam pushed open the bedroom door. Dean was on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sam sat on his own bed, facing his brother. "Dean? We need to talk."

"Did enough last night." Dean's voice was hard, with an edge that could slice. Sam winced.

"Dean, no one asked you to bring out your box. Hell, I didn't even know you had it." Sam tried logic first, already knowing it would be a lost cause.

Dean's eyes closed. Sam was on full-out ignore now. Wonderful. Okay, about time for that apology, but Dean didn't 'do' apologies. Was there a way to apologize without saying sorry?

"I like Brad better." He watched his brother hopefully. Dean cracked open an eye to look at him. "He doesn't have that goofy look on his face when Rae's around."

Dean nodded to the ceiling. "I can handle Brad."

Sam allowed his frame to relax a little. "Wonder how Kevin would act if he knew about the weapon's bag?"

"Forget it," Dean sighed. "His father's a judge. We don't need to go there."

"A judge? No kidding?" Sam asked, hoping to keep up the discussion. "I guess that means we need to be more creative."

Dean's head rolled to the side, eyes opening to watch Sam suspiciously. "Creative?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "you know, in how we threaten him."

He watched his brother's eyebrows crawl halfway up that forehead. "You want to threaten a judge's kid?"

"Not really," Sam shrugged. "But I think he should know what he's dealing with. That we won't tolerate Rae being hurt, in any way."

Dean lifted himself up on one elbow, staring at Sam now. "So you're saying he needs to be warned?"

Sam allowed a half-smile to form. "Oh, I'd say that boy definitely needs to be warned. I'm just not sure he should know just how much self-defense Rae knows, if you know what I mean."

A smile quirked at the edges of Dean's mouth. "Yeah, I think I get the picture. And you're good with that? I mean, if I invite the kids to, say, the gym and just happen to get in a sparring match with Freddy?"

Sam nearly laughed at that. Freddy had about two inches and fifty pounds on Sam. In a real fight Dean might be able to hold his own against Freddy, especially since his brother was not married to the idea of fair play in a bar fight, but in a sparring match? "Freddy? You serious?"

Dean sat up. "Already talked it over with him. He'll go down – bam – like a rock in the second round."

"Sounds like you have this all worked out," Sam said, leaning his head to one side. It was amazing how he had known Dean his whole life, but there were times when he wondered just how well he actually knew his brother.

Dean shrugged. "Just an idea."

Sam pursed his lips, thinking fast. "Of course, if that doesn't work, we can always take him melon shooting."

Dean laughed. "Only if I get the watermelon." Of course Dean wanted the watermelon, it was the most graphic.

"So," Sam clasped his hands together, trying like hell to keep up this conversation, "what were you saying before you threatened my life the other day?"

Dean groaned, rolling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Why couldn't she just stay a sweet little kid forever?"

"They have to grow up sometime, Dean." Sam watched his brother, but Dean did not move or respond. "You did know that, right?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed, not moving. "This was the age where you started turning into a real pain in the ass. You and Dad fighting all the time. I don't want to do that again."

"You and Rae don't fight, Dean," Sam reminded him. "When you picked us up at the movie theater, I was going to walk around the building to see what the hell was going on. Rae wouldn't let any of us leave. You really missed the fireworks," he chuckled.

"Yeah," Dean's arm lifted, one finger pointing at him, "that's what I'm talking about. You two argue entirely too much, and stick me right in the middle."

Sam tried to blink away his surprise. This was not where he envisioned this conversation going. "We don't argue that much. You and I argue more than Rae and I do."

Dean sat up, glaring at him. "That's how it starts."

"Dean," Sam leaned forward, looking his brother in the eye, "I'm not Dad. I can admit when I'm wrong." Dean smirked at him. "I can!"

"Whatever, dude." Dean shook his head dismissively.

"So," Sam tried to get back on topic, "how long have you been having these, ah, attacks?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't exactly call them attacks."

"Funny, that's what the doctor in the ER last night called it. A two hour, full-blown, panic attack. Since when do you panic?" Sam studied Dean, looking for some sign that this was all an elaborate joke, even though he knew better. When his brother did not answer, Sam pressed, "How long, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe…"

"Maybe what? How long do you think?"

Dean rubbed this back of his neck. "Since we got the apartment."

Sam nodded. Once again, it was not the answer he expected. "Is it more the staying in one place, or the boys?"

Dean studied the bed, engrossed in the pattern of the cheap comforter. He shrugged.

"Or the whole, 'Rae's turning into a teenager and there's nothing I can do about it' thing?" At least, that part he could certainly sympathize with. "Because that's what has been bothering me."

Dean's eyes flashed up to meet his. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Sam stood, pacing in the small room. "I mean, it's not like you're the only adult around, you know. Hell, half the time I feel like I'm the only adult here." Sam threw his hands up in the air. "And when you're not referring to me as Rae's mother, you usually ignore anything I have to say regarding her unless it involves school." His pacing was faster, more frantic. "Sometimes I feel like you don't even want me talking to her!"

"Whoa, whoa." When Sam spun around to continue pacing, he found Dean blocking the way. "Hey, Sammy, relax. Or you're going to be having these panic things next."

Sam glared down at his brother, wondering how this train managed to go so far off track.

"Okay, just sit down?" Dean motioned to the beds. Sam sat opposite his brother, still feeling on edge.

"You're right," Dean told him. "Sometimes I don't want you talking to her, because I'm afraid you're going to start arguing again." Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, you may not be Dad, but you started most of those arguments. I'm not doing that again."

Dean looked at the wall, the bedspread, anywhere but Sam. Sam waited. The silence was tense and heavy.

"I'll try not to argue," Sam promised, unable to contend with that silence any longer. This was not what he wanted, but maybe this conversation was what they both needed.

Dean nodded. "And I'll try to include you more." His brother looked up, a smirk on his face. "You know, since you're the mom."

Sam rolled his eyes. At least most things were getting back to normal. "So, are you seeing a doctor about these panic attacks?"

Dean's interest in the bedspread rose again.

"Then we'll need to find a doctor." Sam stated firmly, standing. "But today we'll take it easy. I won't even tease you about keeping all those cards I used to make for you."

Dean's head fell into his hands. "Oh, god."