Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. You're a star. Thank you also Gredelina1 for supporting me through the writing process. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

Chapter Five

"Good to see you too, Bobby."

Though his voice was weak, there was no confusion or doubt in it. Sam really was seeing and hearing Bobby.

The door opened, and Doctor Maddox came in with Alfie. They were both smiling widely as Sam's eyes drifted to them and a frown creased his brow again.

"Hello, Sam. My name is Doctor Maddox and I am your attending neurosurgeon," she said. "I would like to run some checks if that's okay. Shall we sit you up a little higher?"

Sam didn't respond. He just continued to frown at her. Dean stood and dragged the chair back as Doctor Maddox reached for the bed control and slowly raised the head of the bed so Sam was reclining instead of lying almost flat.

Sam grimaced, his hand coming to his stomach, and she nodded. "Alfie said you were having some pain. I am going to give you something for that in a moment. I need to do a few checks first, while you're alert, if that's okay."

Sam just stared at her. She looked to Dean and he nodded. "Do what you've got to do. He can take it, right, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes drifted to him and then he flinched back as the doctor crossed his vision with a penlight.

"Follow the light for me, Sam," she said.

Dean stepped closer to watch and he saw that, though Sam's pupils reacted to the light, he didn't follow it. He looked confused as he tried to pull further back from her into the pillow.

She snapped off the light and nodded. "That's all good, Sam." She held out her hands and said, "I need you to squeeze my fingers as hard as you can." When Sam didn't respond, she looked at Dean. "Can you help?"

Dean stepped around the bed to Sam's other side and said, "Sammy, you need to squeeze her fingers. Sooner you do all this, sooner me and you can talk."

With a tired look, Sam gripped her fingers and squeezed hard enough that her fingertips whitened.

"That's good," Dean said with a smile. "You can let go now."

Sam did and the doctor cast Dean a grateful smile. "Just a couple more, Sam, and then I'll leave you and your brother alone to talk." She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Can you do this for me."

Sam ignored her and looked at Dean. "What's going on, Dean?"

"The doctor is just checking you out. You had an accident, remember?"

"No. I didn't."

"We were just talking about this, Sam. I told you." A hint of panic made its home in Dean's voice. Had Sam forgotten it already?

Alfie laid a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Dean. This is all normal."

"It's okay to be confused, Sam, but you did have an accident," Doctor Maddox said gently. "You're in the hospital and we're taking care of you. I need you to wiggle your fingers for me now."

Sam shook his head again and his eyes fixed on a spot by the door. He seemed to be listening hard, and his expression was almost scared. It wasn't a look Dean saw often on Sam's face, as it was rare for him to let himself show that he was scared. His eyes widened suddenly and he called Bobby's name. "Where'd he go?" he asked.

The doctor stepped back from the bed and asked, "Who's missing, Sam?"

"Bobby," he said. "He was right there. He's gone." He turned to Dean, his eyes wide. "I think something's taken him."

Ignoring the concerned looks of the doctor and Alfie, Dean leaned closer to him and said, "We'll talk about Bobby later. You need to do these checks so they can get you some pain meds. Okay?"

Sam shook his head. "Bobby needs us! We have to go!"

"Bobby's fine," Doctor Maddox soothed. "We'll save these checks for later. I'll get you some pain relief now."

Sam scowled at her. "He's not fine." He reached for the sheet and blanket and started to pull them back. "I need to help him."

Dean caught his hand. "Not right now, Sam. We have to take care of you," he said.

The action seemed to trigger something in Sam. He cried out in anger and reached for the IV in his right hand. Before Dean could process what he was doing, he had ripped it out. His hand came to his chest and he brushed at the electrodes gummed to his skin. The heart monitor began to beep wildly and an alarm sounded as Sam's heartrate sped to a racing pace.

"Stop it, Sam!" Dean said firmly, reaching for his hands. "You need this stuff."

Sam yanked his hands away from Dean and reached for the bandages around his head.

"Stop him, Dean!" Alfie shouted, as Sam's fingers touched the tube that connected the ICP catheter to his head. Dean grabbed his hands and pushed them down, pinning them at his sides. Even with his weakened state, Sam was hard to hold. He struggled like a wild cat, shouting to be let free.

"Calm down, Sam," Dean ordered. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Sedate him!" Alfie barked, sounding nothing like the calm and gentle man Dean had known so far.

Jean rushed into the room, summoned by the machines as Sam's heartrate climbed.

"Hold him for me, Dean," Doctor Maddox said. She reached into a drawer beside the bed and pulled out a prefilled syringe and needle. Dean held Sam more firmly as he struggled.

"No!" he shouted. "Dean, don't let her! Please!"

Dean fought the urge to turn away, avoiding Sam's gaze, as she jabbed the needle into his arm and depressed the plunger.

Sam struggled still, his eyes fixed on Dean with horror and betrayal.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry," Dean chanted.

"Please," Sam said weakly, as his struggles slowed and ceased. His hands went limp under Dean's grip and his eyes drifted closed as the machines at his side settled and the alarms stopped.

"You can let him go now," Doctor Maddox said after a moment.

Dean released his brother and stepped back. Alfie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to send him down for a scan while he's out," the doctor said. "I want to see if he did himself any harm with that. I'll call down to book a slot."

She left the room, leaving Alfie and Dean alone with Sam. Alfie pushed up a chair behind Dean, and he let himself fall into it. Alfie pulled up his own chair and said, "Are you okay?"

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked. "I've never seen him act like that before."

"It was a reaction to waking up," Alfie said. "Sometimes people in comas have something in their head, a memory or thought, and that becomes overwhelming upon waking. It's confusing to find yourself in a situation like this, and they transfer that confusion onto another point. I have seen people crying for pets that died years ago, I have seen them angry over an argument from weeks before, and I have seen them wake without complication. There is no way of knowing which it will be until it happens. Sam clearly had this Bobby on his mind, and thought he needed to be helped as he was transferring his own panicked reaction onto him. Perhaps if you can arrange for this Bobby to come here to see him, it will clear it up in Sam's mind."

Dean huffed a laugh. "I'd love that, seriously I would, but Bobby died months ago."

"Ah. Well, that's not an unexpected reaction either. Sam obviously remembers his death and the time has muddled in his mind. He thinks it's happening now."

"Would that make him see him, too?" Dean asked hopefully.

"See him?"

Dean sighed. "Sam thought he could see Bobby when he woke up. He was talking to him even."

Alfie considered before answering. "I suppose it's possible that it could happen if the fear was great enough. Does Sam have a history of mental illness?"

Dean didn't know how to answer. There was no way to explain Sam's situation with Lucifer. That wasn't an illness; it was Hell creeping though. "Not like that," he said evasively.

"How exactly is it?" Alfie asked.

Dean grappled with his thoughts but was saved from answering as the door opened and Doctor Maddox came back in with an orderly.

"We're going to take Sam now," she said. "You should use the opportunity to take care of yourselves. Have something to eat and drink. If there's someone you need to call, perhaps now would be a good time to do it."

Dean nodded and got to his feet. There was no one to call, but he did need space from the room and what had happened there. He and Alfie walked from the room and pulled off their gowns.

"You go along to the family room," Alfie said. "I'll bring you a coffee and we can talk."

Having no energy or will to argue, Dean obeyed, walking in the opposite direction to Alfie. There was no one in the family room, and he sank gratefully onto the couch and leaned forward, his head in his hands. He was trying to make sense of what had just happened and what it could mean.

How could Bobby have become a part of Sam's Lucifer hallucinations? That was Hell, and Bobby had never been a part of his Hell experience. What was going on in Sam's head? Alfie said it was normal, but Doctor Bennett said he expected some change in Sam after the seizure. Was this brain damage he was seeing now? What could he do if it was? What if Sam was irrevocably changed?

He sat trying to untangle he thoughts alone until Alfie came back into the room with two paper cups of rich smelling coffee in his hands. He gave one to Dean and then sat down beside him.

"I could hear you thinking all the way down the hall," he said. "Do you want to finish what you were saying before about Sam not being ill?"

Dean sipped his coffee to allow himself a moment to think. "Sam's 'seen' things before," he said eventually. "He went through something really bad, really bad, and it caused some side-effects for him."

"Do you mean some form of post-traumatic stress?"

"In a way. He would see the… person… that had hurt him. It was torturing him. He was having trouble sleeping. Before the accident, he had been awake almost three days."

Alfie frowned. "It's almost impossible for someone to be awake that long. Our bodies shut down as a form of self-protection."

"Sam's didn't," Dean said. "He was really suffering. What he was seeing was keeping him awake."

"I see," he said thoughtfully. "And did you seek help for this? Has Sam ever been medicated?"

Dean shook his head guiltily. "No."

"Why not?" Though his tone was mild, Dean thought he felt accusation coming from his friend.

"Sam didn't want to."

Though they hadn't discussed it openly, Sam wouldn't have wanted it. He would have fought it at every turn, knowing how precarious their position was with the Leviathans out there. Dean had thought he could handle it, sure that Sam's exhaustion would drag him under sooner or later. He hadn't known what would happen. If he had, he would never have let Sam get behind the wheel. He would have protected his brother better. He already knew he'd failed that. His grief for Bobby and Castiel, Sam's broken wall and the tenuous nature of the situation with the Leviathans, meant he had been distracted and not paying enough attention to Sam and his suffering.

Alfie sighed. "Then I am not sure what is happening. It's possible that this pre-existing condition means that Sam's confusion was heightened post-waking, or it could be a symptom of something different. I am sure that I don't need to tell you this, Dean, but post-traumatic stress is serious. He needs help. We have to tell the doctors. He needs to be assessed by a specialist."

"Why though?" Dean asked. "He's sleeping again now. He's better than he was."

"A coma is not natural sleep," Alfie said. "It is true unconsciousness, and even that wasn't natural. Sam was sedated, and he is again now."

"You mean it might not be over?" Dean asked.

"I think we can agree that the hallucination side of the situation is most definitely not over. The sleep issue remains to be seen. If he can sleep without assistance, that will be an improvement, but the fact he is hallucinating still is a cause for concern. He needs more help than you or I can give."

Dean thought he could feel the disappointment rolling from his friend in waves. He didn't want this. He couldn't handle it. Sam was supposed to be okay when he woke up. He had imagined that there would be recovery time from the internal injury, maybe the problem of the seizures, but to add on Sam's hallucinations and sleep issues was too much. There was a limit to what either of them could take on top of what they had already been through.

"What am I going to do, Alfie?" he asked. "This might not be all. The doctor last night spoke about brain damage. What if him seeing Bobby isn't from the trauma. What if it's brain damage instead?" He raked a hand over his face, feeling completely defeated. "What do I do now?"

Alfie squeezed his shoulder. "You tell Katherine everything. I can understand why you didn't before, as Sam was unconscious and it wouldn't have felt relevant, but you have to agree that it is now. If, God forbid, the sleep thing becomes an issue again, he is going to need intervention to help him quickly, or his injuries are not going to heal but deteriorate."

Dean bowed his head. "I know. I will. But…"

"You're scared?" Alfie guessed. "I understand that. It's natural. You have been in this place for a week now, too. When was the last time you had fresh air?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"Precisely. You're going to burn out if you carry on. Speak to Katherine, explain everything, and allow her to help Sam while you help yourself. Go home and sleep in a real bed for a change."

Dean huffed a laugh. Home was a car that was on lockdown. There was nowhere else now that Bobby's place was gutted. He didn't have anywhere else to go that he could call home.

"What's funny?" Alfie asked.

"I don't have a home," Dean said. "I have a car. Me and Sam live on the road. We haven't had a proper home since we were kids, and we haven't even had a place to go to crash with a friend for months—not since before Bobby died. We have motels sometimes, but that's as good as it gets now."

Alfie's eyes widened, and Dean knew he was trying to imagine that kind of existence. No one could unless they'd lived it. Dean hadn't had anything like a home since Lisa, and Sam hadn't since Stanford. They didn't have that kind of life.

Alfie quickly schooled his expression into a smile and said, "That's easily remedied. I said before you can stay with us. Elsie has been pestering me to persuade you to come since the first day, but I understood you couldn't leave Sam until he was awake. He is awake now, so you can come home with me for a night. Have a proper meal at a table. Sleep in a bed and have more than a rushed shower. We'll take care of it all."

Dean's eyes burned. He had known Alfie was special from almost the moment he met him, but this was exceeding even that. Bringing him food and sitting with him during the day was already too much, but to have them open their home to him too was more than he could have imagined.

"You don't have to do this, Alfie," he said. "You're already doing so much."

"I want to. We both do. There's something special about you, Dean, and I can see it. Elsie knows it, too, even without meeting you. She said there was an open invitation from the beginning, even before we knew you were homeless, and not just for you. Sam is going to need somewhere to stay when he's discharged, and he'll need peace to recover. I can't promise peace with my Elsie and little Izzy around, but I can promise a warm bed and some homecooked food. Let us do this for you, Dean."

"I don't know…"

"Do it for Sam," he said. "With us, he'll have an on-call doctor in me, and someone that will love nothing more than to mother him in Elsie. I have a feeling it's been a long time since you or Sam were mothered. Am I right?"

Dean nodded slowly. Dean hadn't had a mother since he was four and Sam couldn't remember having one. It would be good for Sam at least to experience it once. And Dean couldn't take him on the road again until he was completely well. They had no insurance, so rehab wasn't an option for Sam. They really did need this. Dean was going to have to swallow his pride and doubt to let them help.

"You're right," he said quietly. "And I'm grateful. We will come when it's time, but not yet. I need to be close to Sam."

"He's awake now though," Alfie said.

"But he still needs me. If he's still seeing Bobby when he wakes up again, he's going to need me to be here with him even more than before. I have to remind him what's real." He paused as he tried to articulate his thoughts. "I'm stone number one."

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked.

"It means we've been doing this a while," Dean said. "And I'm the only one that can do it."

So… We're back to stone number one. I always loved that concept in the show and am pleased to have a chance to explore the idea again.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx