Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Author's Note: Sorry for the length in between updates. I had a hard time writing this chapter and am still not overly pleased with it. Still, I wanted to get at least one update in before I start a new story.

Read and review please!

You Found Me

Chapter 5

Dean watched sadly as Sam lost the battle against his eyelids and sank back into a state of unconsciousness. Just as well, Dean thought, for he had no idea what to say to his near fatally injured brother who had no memory as to what happened to him. Dean was still trying to come to the terms with the fact that Sam had chosen a demon over his own brother because of a serious addiction to demon blood and a burning desire to get revenge on everything that had happened to him. Dean wasn't ready for the sudden change from stubborn and mislead to lost and insecure, searching for something or someone to hold on to.

Dean stood up from the couch, cursing softly as his aching knees put up a protest, before carding a hand through his hair. He felt more than heard the angel's arrival into the living room and knew before he even turned around that Castiel was the bearer of bad news.

"Lucifer's army is growing," the angel said gravelly. "It's only a matter of time before this war comes to a head."

"And that's my problem, why?" Dean wanted to know.

"The world is about to end, Dean," Castiel said his voice hardening. "This is no longer just about your brother."

"It hasn't been about Sam in a very long time," Dean retorted. "Not since I came back from Hell. And where are we because of it? The world's ending, he—we are barely hanging on, and Sam has no memory about what happened to him. How the Hell am I supposed to help him if he can't remember anything?"

"Dean, Heaven needs you for the coming war," Castiel pressed. "Time is short. You need to face that your brother may not be able to be saved."

"If one more person says that, I swear they are going to end up with a one way ticket to Hell," Dean growled. "And I've been to Hell and I know that you do not want to go there."

"You are needed in this coming war," Castiel repeated.

"No, Sam needs me to be here for him. Screw your damn war. It's your fault anyway that your world is totally shot to Hell," Dean snarled. "There are other people out there that can help you. Sam needs me now the same way he needed me that night we found him. I can't give up on him now."

Castiel sighed heavily. Dean realized that the angel looked about as worn out as he felt at the moment, but that wasn't about to change his mind about saving Sam.

"I can help you save your brother, Dean," Castiel said.

"I thought you said that you couldn't heal physical injuries," Dean said unwilling to let himself get his hopes up.

"I might not be able to heal his physical wounds, but I can help with the emotional ones," Castiel replied. "But you must promise that once you and Sam are well enough, you will rejoin the fight. Heaven needs you."

"Sam needs me more," Dean said. "And I don't know if we'll ever be ready. Judging by Sam's wounds, I doubt that's anything he's going to be recovering from anytime soon. Even with your help, which I refuse. This is one we have to deal with on our own."

"Dean," Castiel began.

"Save it, Cass," Dean said his voice growing hard again.

There was a slight breeze and a fluttering of wings. Dean sighed angrily when he realized that meant the angel was gone.

"Stupid fucking angels," he muttered. He walked toward the kitchen, intent on getting some coffee, when Bobby's form in the doorway stopped him.

"You're an idjit," the older hunter said gruffly.

"I'm going to get you a trucker cap that says that," Dean muttered. "Bobby, I meant what I said to Cass."

"It's about damn time," Bobby growled. He held out a cup of coffee. "Here. Thought you might like a cup."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said wrapping his hands around his mug. He took a glance back at Sam. "He doesn't remember anything."

Bobby didn't even raise an eyebrow as he took a swig of his coffee.

"Are you really that surprised?" he asked. "You didn't remember what happened to you in Hell."

Dean winced at Bobby's words—he had remembered everything from Hell, but he hadn't told the older hunter.

"I just—it's different this time, Bobby," Dean said. "I don't think it's Sam's fault that he doesn't remember. I don't think that he's blocking this one out on his own. The kid has a higher threshold of pain than I do."

"Then what do you think is blocking his memory?" Bobby wanted to know. "And if you're so damn sure that it's not Sam doing it, then why won't you let Castiel help you?"

"I think it's a demon, or rather the demon," Dean said.

"You mean to say that you think Lucifer is the one blocking Sam's memory?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Are you out of your mind boy?"

"Why would I be?" Dean retorted. "He's risen. I know, I was there. So was Sam. Why wouldn't it have been him? Maybe he did something to Sam that he doesn't want anyone else to know."

"Like what?" Bobby demanded.

"I don't know!" Dean replied honestly. "Maybe I'm totally wrong here. I don't know. But it just doesn't seem like Sam to block out his memory like that."

"People change, Dean," Bobby said gravelly. "You should know that better than anyone."

Dogs barked in the distance. Thunder rolled over head. Blood seeped from the compound fracture in his leg as Sam struggled to pull himself to safety. The only noise outside of the occasional clap of thunder was his ragged breathing.

"Dean!" he yelled. "Dean!"

There was no answer. He cursed loudly when his injured leg got caught by a piece of collapsing debris. He was stuck.

A dog howled somewhere nearby. Terrified, Sam tried to get his leg free, but the pain was too great. He let out a loud yell of horror as the huge hounds entered his field of sight.

"No. No! Dean!"

Sam woke with a start, breathing hard and sweating heavily. He looked wildly around the room, looking for the dogs that had haunted his dreams, but instead only found Dean reading a book in the recliner, looking half asleep as he sipped at a mug of coffee.

Dean looked up as Sam managed to get his breathing under control. He didn't seem too surprised to find the younger Winchester awake.

"Hey," he said quietly setting down the book.

"Hey," Sam replied his voice barely a hoarse whisper. "How long was I out for?"

"A few hours," Dean answered. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but obviously decided against it.

They were both quiet for a moment. Sam wasn't sure what he should say to Dean—if he should say anything at all—about what happened between them before the events at the convent or about his nightmare. By the look on Dean's face, he was obviously having the same internal struggle.

"You okay?" Dean asked after a while.

"I'm fine," Sam mumbled not wanting to admit to the sharp pain in his lower leg or the lingering fear he felt because of his nightmare. However, there was another, very pressing need that could not go without being admitted "Need to use the bathroom."

Dean slid off the recliner and set his coffee on the table, alongside of his book. Sam absently noted that Dean was barefoot and wondered how on earth that had happened. Dean always had his boots on.

Sam let out a muffled curse as he attempted to sit up on his own. Pain seared through his chest, black spotted his vision, and he found himself gasping for breath. He barely heard Dean's soothing yet slightly panicked voice, but Sam felt the gentle hand on his back.

"Take it easy, just breathe," Dean was murmuring. "Breathe with me, Sammy. You're okay. Just relax."

Sam struggled to do what Dean told him. Before too long, he had his breathing under control and the pain gradually started to fade into a dull stabbing sensation.

"I'm okay," Sam whispered.

"Yeah and I'm Steve Perry," Dean said sarcastically. Sam didn't miss the small shake in his brother's voice. "C'mon, we'll take it slow. If you hurt, let me know."

Sam didn't say anything, but merely nodded once, glad to find that that didn't hurt. He allowed Dean to slip an arm around his shoulders, groaning inwardly as he tried to move too much.

"This isn't going to work," he muttered swearing as he allowed Dean to pull him into a sitting position.

"Sorry," Dean said quickly. "Are you okay?"

Sam closed his eyes, not wanting to answer Dean. He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth again, he was going to end up puking all over the floor.

"Dean? Is everything okay?"

Sam's eyes flew open at the sound of Bobby's voice. The last time he had actually talked to Bobby was… Sam forced his thoughts in another direction, not wanting to think about the fall out he and Bobby had had when Sam had escaped from the panic room. Or rather, been let out from the panic room, but the details were beside the point.

The older hunter walked into the room and stared in open shock at Sam. A small, hesitant smile spread across Bobby's face.

"Hey, Sam," he said quietly.

"Hi, Bobby," Sam said his voice just as quiet.

"How you feeling, son?" Bobby asked gruffly.

Sam wanted to say that he was fine, that there was nothing wrong with him. But he knew that those words were a lie and he was sick of lying. He didn't want to do it anymore; he had witnessed what it did to his brother when Sam had lied to him. He didn't want that anymore.

"He'll be fine," Dean answered for Sam, his voice fierce and protective.

Sam started at his brother's voice. It sounded so much like the Dean Sam used to know that it was scary. It had been forever since he had heard that tone of voice coming from his brother. It had felt like a lifetime ago. It was, he thought grimly. For Dean, anyway.

"Of course you will," Bobby said turning his face away. Sam could have sworn that he had seen tears in the older man's eyes and was once again shocked. He didn't get a chance to ask the older hunter about it, for Bobby took his leave then.

"Let me know if you two need anything," he said over his shoulder before disappearing out of the room.

There was silence for a few moments. Then,

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I—I never meant any of this to happen."

"It's going to be okay, Sam," Dean said softly. "You'll be okay. We will be okay."

And Sam didn't doubt him.