Okay, here! A nice, longer one this time. :) I hope ya'll like it, and please do review if you do. It helps a lot. Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 15

Dean had been afraid Abby would insist on helping once they got back to the motel, and end up getting in the way, but once they'd gotten Sam out of the car and to his bed she backed off and let him and Bobby see to him. She didn't hover too closely or ask too many questions immediately, either, which gave her a few more points in Dean's book.

The first thing Dean did was turn on the oxygen and make sure the tube was put on properly and that Sam could breathe, before Bobby did anything else. The older hunter carefully checked Sam over, and the news wasn't a bad as they'd feared.

"Both of those cracks have definitely re-opened, and worse than they were the first time, I think, but I'm also sure that nothing in there is broken clean through. There's nothing to set. All we can do is keep his chest wrapped, and wait until he wakes up," Bobby reported finally.

Sam hadn't worn the wrap for several days, but they still had it with them, in case. Dean waved Abby over to help hold Sam up enough, and he and Bobby got it back on him. Abby gently laid him down again, and stood, crossing her arms tightly over her own chest. Bobby waited with them a while longer—to be sure Sam was stable and that an emergency run to the nearest hospital wouldn't be needed after all—before he headed back to the late Professor Ray's house for cleanup.

"Call me if there's any change," he said before he left.

Once he was gone Dean dropped onto the edge of his own bed, staring across the short empty space at his unconscious brother. He could have been sleeping, but for the oxygen tube and the bruise forming on the side of his face. Damnit, Sam…

Abby tentatively moved from her spot on the wall by the bathroom door, and perched on the corner of the same bed, arms still hugged to herself.

"So…he's going to bury that thing that made itself look like you?"

Now came the questions.

"The shapeshifter. Yeah. He'll have to drive outside of town and find a place, or something; he could be gone a few hours. I uh…told him to bring food back, though, in case you're hungry…if you're gonna wait here, or whatever. Because I mean, you can. Sorry you might have to wait a few hours for the food though." He didn't know what to say to the girl. He really didn't want to answer questions.

She shrugged. "I'm not hungry anyway."

"Yeah. Me either."

Abby's gaze hadn't left Sam since she sat down. "He'll be all right, won't he?"

"Yeah…of course he will," Dean answered, resisting the urge to squirm.

She turned, finally, to face him, expression determined and bordering upset. "Then what's all of this equipment for? "

"What equipment?" he asked innocently.

"The oxygen generator, and that nebulizer on the table over there, and all the medicine on the counter. What is that? If he's fine, what is all of it for?"

"How do you know it's not mine?" Dean retorted. "Or that we don't carry that stuff around all the time for when things like this happen," he said, motioning vaguely toward his brother.

Abby's arms loosened, and she gestured with them as she kept going. "I caught him leaning over a bench last night, like he was out of breath or something. It could have been nothing, but now I'm not so sure, because when that thing rammed him he didn't fight back. It was like he couldn't. He crumpled, immediately. That's not normal, Dean."

"I know that—"

"Then what's wrong with him!"

This was not happening. He didn't want to get into this with some girl he barely knew. He didn't want to explain.

Explaining it made it all real.

"Look, in case you haven't noticed, this is a dangerous gig. What you saw back there isn't the worst of it. We hunt some pretty nasty things, and sometimes people get hurt. Sometimes we get hurt. It just happens."

She stared at him for a moment, confused. "So…what? You're saying he's still recovering from something else? That's why he went down so easily?"

Dean let out a breath. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Oh god, please let it stop there.

Abby fell silent, and he thought he was home free.

Then she looked up again, jaw tight. "You're lying."

Dean blinked at her, startled. "What?"

"You're lying. I know you are. Don't lie to me."

There were more long moments or silence, as they stared each other down, until finally he looked away.

"I told you…stuff happens. Something happened."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly.

"Then just…what did it do to him? Why does he need this stuff?" Abby pressed, flailing an arm at the oxygen generator.

Dean didn't want to answer. He didn't want to think it, much less say it.

But the original plan was pointless now. This girl was involved now, and after what had happened and what she'd seen there was no way to change that now. At the very least, he supposed, she deserved not to be lied to.

"His lungs are damaged," Dean sighed finally, reluctantly, standing and pacing away from the bed, a hand scrubbing at the back of his head. When he opened his mouth to finish, much more came out than he'd intended. "His heart, too. That's what some of the meds are for...though to be honest, I don't understand what half of them are for. I just know he needs them, and he needs the oxygen, and the treatments with the nebulizer. I don't ask questions; I just make sure he does all of it. I—"

He stopped himself short and took a deep breath before he made any more of a fool of himself, and focused on Abby again. The blue eyes were damp now, and her fists clenched tightly in her lap as she focused hard at what must have been an extraordinarily small spot on the wall beyond him.

"Then…does that mean…"

Dean looked away again. "Yeah." Out of the corner of his eye he caught the grimace—the one that meant she was holding back the sob he wanted to let loose with himself right about now.

When she tried to speak again it was barely audible. "How l—

"We don't know," he answered gruffly, cutting her off before she finished the question. He couldn't hear those two words in the same sentence again.

Dean spun and retreated to the table, where Sam's laptop was still plugged in and hibernating. He pulled it open to wake the thing up, and noticed appreciatively that the internet cord was still connected, too. Without so much as a glance anywhere else he took the seat in front of the computer and opened the web browser.

He needed the distraction right now.

When Abby darted into the bathroom a moment later, he pretended for the sake of his sanity that he didn't hear her sobbing on the other side of the door.

Bobby wasn't sure what he was seeing until his headlights illuminated the parking lot, but when they did what he saw Dean, crouching in front of his motel room door. He stood quickly when the light hit him, trying much to hard to look nonchalant until he saw who was pulling into the parking lot. He relaxed then, but he still seemed to be squirming.

"What are you doing out here?" Bobby questioned, frowning as he climbed out of his car.

"I was about to break into your room, actually," Dean confessed, holding up his lock pick.

Bobby's eyebrows went up in confusion. "Uh huh. Why?"

Dean sighed in frustration. "'Cause I frickin' need to pee, and Abby hasn't come out of our bathroom yet."

He let Dean in, and waited until the younger man came out of the bathroom before asking the next obvious question. "Why hasn't she come out? What's she doing in there?"

Dean didn't look very comfortable about answering. "Ahm, well…crying. At first. I don't know what she's doing right now….She just won't come out."

Bobby let out a breath. "You told her."

"I didn't have a choice, Bobby. She saw the equipment, and the medicine, and apparently she'd already sort of suspected something anyway before she even saw the stuff in there…I still didn't want to tell her, but she wouldn't shut up about it. She kept asking if something was wrong with him…"

He leaned heavily on the wall by the table Bobby had taken a seat at, looking more upset than Bobby had seen him since the hospital. "I screwed up, Bobby. I just wanted Sam to cheer up a little. I mean, he was happy to be on a job, but I know he wasn't all that satisfied with the boundaries I put up, and I wanted to get his mind off it. I wanted him to be happy for a little while."

Dean let his head knock against the wall. "Now look what happened. We've got an upset college girl who's locked herself in our bathroom, and Sam won't be any happier when he wakes up and finds out she knows about…him."

His eyes closed. "It's a mess. It's a complete, and total mess, and it's my fault."

Bobby just looked at him.

"What?"

"Are you done?"

"Done what?"

"With your self-pity party."

Dean frowned. "My what?"

Bobby shrugged. "Look, I'm not your mother, and I'm not going to tell you that none of this is your fault. That's not true. But it's not all your fault, either. That boy made choices of his own."

"I made him go out with her."

"You didn't make him; you can't make him do anything."

Dean huffed.

"It's true, Dean. It's not all your fault, and it's not all his fault, and you both share the blame with that damn shapeshifter, too, hell, even me. Maybe I should have said something against him meeting that girl, but then again what kind of friend would that have made me? We'll never know, Dean. This is just the way things turned out this time. You of all people oughtta know that shit happens."

"I know that, Bobby. I just didn't want it happening to him, now," Dean sighed, sinking into another of the chairs at the table.

They both fell silent for a long moment.

"Sam's not even awake yet," Bobby said gently. "Maybe things won't be as bad as you're apparently afraid of."

Dean snorted. "You can't tell me you're not worried, too."

"No, I can't—because I am. But sitting around moping about it isn't going to change anything."

"Thank you, Captain Cliché."

Bobby shrugged and stood. "Come on…we shouldn't leave your brother alone in there any longer."

"Yeah…"

When the two of them returned to the other room, the bathroom door was open. Abby had pulled a chair in-between the beds and sat there now, beside Sam. When she saw them come in she stood quickly.

"I can move, if you wanted to sit here…"

"It's fine," Dean answered quickly, and took a seat nearby on the edge of his bed.

Bobby went to the table, watching as Abby sat down again and sighed. None of them said a word at first, but for several long moments Abby watched Dean watch his brother.

"You guys have been working together for a long time, haven't you?" she asked quietly.

A corner of Dean's mouth came up, but from across the room Bobby couldn't tell whether the expression were sad, hopeful, or amused. It was what he said that highlighted which emotion he was feeling at the comment.

"Not as long as I'd like."

When Sam woke, the blurry figure at his bedside slowly solidified into Dean. His brother was stationed in a chair by the bed, head drooped over his chest and seemingly asleep. He tried to shift, grimaced, and decided he shouldn't try it again. He could feel the tube in his nose and the wrap around his chest now, and the reason they were there he could feel even more distinctly.

"D—" The word caught in a dry throat, and he had to swallow and try again. "Dean?"

His brother's head popped up quickly, before falling again and coming up more slowly. "I'm awake! I'm awake…just shuttin' my eyes…" Then he focused, and realized who had spoken. "Sam! Hey…welcome back."

"Yeah, what…what happened? I just remember…finding Abby in that basement, and then you…or wait, I don't think it was you…"

Dean snorted. "Of course it was me; because I would totally have no qualms about slamming you into a metal beam and re-cracking two of your ribs."

"It was the shapeshifter."

"Yep."

"That's the second—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Good times."

Sam smirked. "Uh huh. So where's Bobby?"

"I made him go back to his room and get some sleep. He buried the thing, by the way, so there's nothing else on my supposed crime record. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

He shrugged—a very small motion that he made slowly. "I'm not drawing any smiley faces or hearts in my diary entry for today."

Dean actually laughed, once, at that, but he seemed uneasy over something else.

Then he remembered his other question. "What about Abby? What was she doing down there? Is she okay?"

"Yeah…about that…"

Dean piled pillows behind him and helped him sit up some, back against them, and filled him in on how Abby had gotten into that basement in the first place, and what she'd seen…and what Dean and Bobby had been forced to tell her.

"So she knows pretty much everything but our real last name," Sam deadpanned.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Great…"

"I didn't know how much she knew, or if that might give something away, and I figured you'd want to tell her yourself if you wanted her to know about, you know, who you are, so…I didn't even tell her we're related…"

"Thanks." Sam sighed carefully. "I guess I kind of have to tell her now. It doesn't make any sense not to, if she already knows everything else."

Dean shrugged. "You don't have to. I mean, it's up to you."

Sam shook his head. "No. After all that I think she deserves to know. I just…didn't want her to find out like this. I didn't want her to have to find out about what's out there."

Dean rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, but he didn't have a chance to say anything before the motel room door opened and Abby bustled in, carrying a large brown paper bag and a cardboard tray of coffee.

"Well here's breakfast, and your key," she said immediately, setting it all down at the table. "I uh—" She stopped in mid-turn when she saw Sam, awake and looking at her curiously.

"Sam…hey…" she said awkwardly, and took a few quick strides to the end of the bed. "You're awake. How are you..?"

"I know you know," he answered gently.

Her shoulders drooped. "Oh…"

Sam exchanged a glance with his brother, who squeezed his shoulder once more and stood. "I'll go wake Bobby up and tell him breakfast is here. Thanks for that by the way, Abby."

"Right. You're welcome."

Then Dean nodded and left.

Abby stood where she was for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels, until she finally made her way around the bed and took chair Dean had vacated. She cast a dejected look at the oxygen generator on the other side of the bed. "So…I guess all of this is why you didn't want to go out with me again."

"Believe me; it's not that I didn't want to. You're a nice girl, Abby, and…I like you," he admitted. "I really do. That's why I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry I had to lie to you, but I thought it was for the best. If you hadn't ended up in that basement, you never would have known about any of this. I…know that probably doesn't make you feel any better right now, but it would have been better for you…"

"How do you know what would have been better for me?" she protested.

Sam looked at her for a moment. "Did you really want to know that there are things out there you never believed in before? The kinds of thing that hurt people?" He glanced down at himself, and the rest of the tube that led to the open ends in his nose. "Did you really want to know about this?"

Abby swallowed and focused on the wall for a moment. She didn't answer.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again.

It took a minute or two for her to reply. "All right, I…understand why you lied. Apparently it's something you have to do a lot, to get your job done, which I guess is why you avoid hospitals and such when you can. I mean, some of that lying must be pretty illegal, like the pretending to be FBI."

"Yeah…I was never real fond of the illegal part."

She choked out a laugh. "Right. Me either. But…I guess I shouldn't complain. You…you save people. You saved me, and Cody, and I'm sure that thing would have kept killing if you all hadn't stopped it…"

"If not here, then somewhere else, yeah."

"R-right," she blinked. "And…that should be the end of this conversation. Beyond the being seriously freaked out, I should be fine, and you should be fine, but it's not just the things in the dark. That's not what's so upsetting about all of this; it's you, and this, and…" Abby bit back a sob. "Just my luck, I guess," she said quietly, focusing on her hands in her lap.

Sam grimaced, and felt the tears coming already. "Abby, I'm so sorry. This is why I didn't want you to know, I—"

"It's not your fault," she mumbled miserably.

He let out a breath, gulping back the lump in his throat until he could trust himself to speak. "There's something else you need to know."

She looked up again, blinking back her own tears. "What."

Sam hesitated at first. "At Stanford, I…didn't just know Jessica."

Abby looked at him strangely.

He winced and went on. "Look, Dean and I…our names aren't Duncan and Mayers. Dean is my brother; our last name is Winchester."

For a moment there was no reaction, and he wondered if that was even enough information for her to understand. Then realization slowly dawned, and she was staring.

"You…"

Sam found himself avoiding her eyes as he confirmed quietly. "It was me you were trying to contact after she died; I was her boyfriend."

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Again, I'm sorry, for lying to you…but our cover was already established, and I couldn't just—"

"It's okay," she said quickly, standing.

"Abby…?"

"No, it's all right. Really. I just…" She looked around, scanning the room, looking anywhere but at him. "I just need to go for now, that's all. I mean, it's the weekend, so no classes, but I-I have homework, and I should find Cody and make sure he's all right."

"Abby."

"And I need to make sure he's not going to say anything to anyone, and—"

"Abby, please listen to me."

"What!"

"It's okay."

She stopped, and crossed her arms and looked down at him uncomfortably. "What's okay?"

Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to tell her calmly. "It's okay if you want to leave. It's all right if you want to pretend you never met me, and none of this ever happened. I'd understand."

Her hands went to her temples as she edged out from between the beds. "N-No, I…I don't know. I don't know, Sam. I just…I need to get out of here, just for right now, at least. I need some space to think. I've been here all night, because I wanted to make sure you were all right, or, you know, as good as you can be, I guess, so I've been here, and now I need to get out. I need to get out of here."

"Okay…" No. It wasn't okay. He knew very well that if she walked out that door she might not come back. And that hurt. But he couldn't keep her here, and he couldn't take back everything that had happened. What was done was done, and he couldn't make up her mind for her.

Abby sobbed once. "I'm sorry." She went jerkily to the door, not even bothering to take any of the breakfast she'd brought back for them all, and looked back once. "Bye, Sam…"

Then she was gone.

When Dean figured he'd hidden out in Bobby's room for long enough, and came out, he saw Abby leaving.

He saw an upset Abby leaving.

She must have seen him, but she didn't stop, didn't ask for a ride back to campus, or anything at all. Then again, the campus was close enough that it wouldn't be a problem for her to walk, but…

Dean sighed and waved Bobby, who had been following him out to come get breakfast, back into his room. Bobby nodded in understanding and retreated, leaving Dean to go back into the other room alone. He stopped just inside the door.

God…

Still sitting back against his pillows the way Dean had left him, Sam's arms were wrapped loosely around his chest now, his face turned almost away as he focused hard on nothing. There had been way too much of that going on lately. He was pulling that face he had when he didn't want to cry but it was already too late.

Dean moved slowly to his brother's side and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sammy?"

Sam took a sudden deep breath, letting out a whimper of pain after, and swiped at the tears that streaked his face. "Dean," he said, as if just realizing he was back at all.

"Yeah, they tell me that's my name."

That earned him half a smile through the remnants of the tears.

"So…it didn't go so well."

Sam shrugged weakly. "About as well as I could have expected, I guess. It wasn't just the thing about Jess…it was everything. I think she was a little overwhelmed…just needed space to think, she said."

Dean smiled in an attempt to cheer him up. "Well hey; just give her that space, and some time. She'll come back."

"No she won't," Sam said softly, focused on the blankets now.

"How do you know?"

"You didn't see her, Dean. Maybe she might want to, and maybe I don't want to be right, but I don't think she'll be back," he answered miserably.

Dean swallowed. "Sammy…"

"Look, can we just not talk about this right now? Okay?" Sam pleaded.

He looked at his little brother for a long moment, wishing to heaven he could do something to fix this. But it didn't take long to realize that nothing he could say now would help. "Okay…okay."

He got up again, and got Bobby from the other room. The coffee and doughnuts from across the street proved to be decent comfort food, as long as they lasted. When the food was gone Dean brought Sam his medicine made sure he took a breathing treatment, since he hadn't the chance while being unconscious, though he had to bring that over to the bed, too. When the treatment was done Dean made him put the oxygen tube back in, and keep it there.

Sam didn't say much all day, and Dean and Bobby didn't bring anything up. The general consensus seemed to be that they would stay until Sam was recovered enough to make the trip back to Bobby's, and then they would all be out of here.

Whatever came farther ahead than that could wait until later.

By the time Bobby retired to his own room that night, Sam was already sound asleep. He'd been napping on and off all day, really, but this time he seemed to be out for good for the night.

Dean turned the television on and sat down on the nearest bed. It took him a moment to realize it was Sam's, but there was no reason to move, really. Sam was only taking up half of the bed right now, and there was plenty of room to sit. There just weren't any pillows on this side, since Sam had them all.

Or…he had had them all, when he'd been sitting up earlier. He'd pushed all but a couple of them to the floor when he'd lain down. Now he was sleeping, turned partially away on his side, toward the edge of the bed, and his breathing seemed all right. Still…Dean knew he would feel better if he kept tabs on it. Even though he was sure he could have fallen asleep in moments, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep tonight.

Dean got up to gather a couple of abandoned pillows to stack behind him, and settled back against the headboard on Sam's bed to watch TV. His brother slept on beside him as he flipped through channels. There wasn't much on. Most channels were showing marathons of anything and everything in anticipation of summer, but none of the channels on this particular cable plan were showing a marathon of anything he cared for.

He ended up settling on the Disney channel, of all things, watching a show he'd seen a bit of in passing here and there that was just amusing enough to keep his interest—something about a couple of twins that lived in an upscale hotel and seemed to cause a new kind of trouble every episode. As the night wore on he quickly realized that one was supposed to be the 'smart one' and the other was the 'athletic' type, the one whose schemes tended to be more about the girls than anything else.

Slightly ridiculous for anyone out school to be watching, but it kept him awake. After a while he had to admit he kind of liked the kids' antics anyway, and he couldn't help but see a few parallels. Dean didn't realize he'd been laughing too loudly until Sam stirred beside him.

He also didn't realize until then that one of his hands was resting comfortably on the back of his brother's head.

Dean pulled his hand back quickly, and almost tried to get off the bed, but that was when Sam turned on his back again, and his eyes blinked open.

He was caught.

"Dean?"

He muted the television and glanced down, really seeing now how close he was sitting. It had been reassuring a moment ago; now it was a little embarrassing. "Uh, hey." He reached for the pillows behind him and started to stand. "Sorry; I can move..." He fully expected Sam to simply say thanks, spread out a little again, and let that be that.

Instead, Sam caught his arm. "You don't have to go anywhere…"

The line was innocent, normal enough, but the way Sam looked at him and the strength with which he was gripping Dean's arm told him that he shouldn't move.

Not now.

He shrugged indifferently and sat back against the pillows behind him. "Okay."

"Okay..." Sam stayed on his back, pulling the blanket back up over his shoulders as he settled in again. "Goodnight, Dean."

When Sam's eyes were closed again he smiled, and un-muted the television. "Goodnight, Sam."