Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and Gredelina1 for all your help and support.

I am going to be leaving for Sweden to see Gredelina1 later today and I will be there until late on the 25th. I will try to keep to my Saturday update schedule, but it might be a little tough with WiFi issues. I will update as soon as I can though.

Chapter Ten

Dean pushed aside his plate and watched Alfie as he popped his fries into his mouth one by one with an almost blissful expression. "I forgot how good these are," he said. "I think it's the fact they're forbidden that adds to the taste."

Dean smiled, waiting until Alfie had eaten the last of his fries and wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin before he said, "Let's go through it one more time."

Alfie nodded and set down his napkin. His face became solemn. "What is the most important thing to remember if Sam is seizing?"

"Keep him from hurting himself," Dean said promptly.

"And how do you do that?"

"Try to help him to the floor if he's not already there. Move anything that he can hurt himself on out of the way. Try to position him on his side if I can safely."

"What do you not do?"

"Don't try to hold him down. Don't put anything in his mouth." He paused. "You sure about that last one? I thought there was something about them biting or swallowing their tongue."

"That used to be the way," Alfie said. "We equipped epileptics with rubber blocks to protect them, but thinking has changed since then. You're actually more likely to hurt yourself, and them, trying to put something in their mouth. It's better for them if you let them ride it out, interfering as little as you can."

"Got it."

"And when do you call 911?" Alfie asked.

Dean counted off on his fingers as he said, "If it lasts more than five minutes, if there are a lot at once without a break between, if he's having trouble breathing, if he's choking, or if he hurts himself."

"And if they happen closer together than usual," Alfie added. "We can judge these things at the time though. We will be together in this."

"Thanks, Alfie," Dean said. "I feel a lot better about this knowing you're going to be there."

"Good. Sam is going to be more closely watched than any patient I have had before. Between you and I, Elsie and Sam himself, we can take care of him. Now, shall we see if he's ready?"

Dean quickly drank the remains of his coffee and stood. "Yep. If he's done with Doctor Platt already, he's going to be pissed that we're not back. I don't think I've seen him so eager for something in years as he is getting out of here."

"He's had a difficult time here. It's natural for him to want to get away." He considered Dean. "How do you feel about it?"

Dean shrugged. "Kinda scared. I want him out so we can get back to something as close to normal as we can have. I've felt a little safer here though. If something went wrong, there'd be all the doctors and equipment he could need."

"It's unlikely he will need that though," Alfie said. "He is stable and we're prepared for the complications of seizures. I think Sam will do better away from here. He'll be more settled."

Dean hoped that Sam would take to living with Alfie as easily as he had the man himself. It would be an adjustment for them both, being in a real home, but Sam was more likely to struggle with it given his confusion and the way his last home had ended. Elsie was an unknown, but Dean didn't believe she could be anything less than wonderful with the way Alfie talked about her and the care she had given him and Sam without even meeting them.

They made their way up to the third floor and Dean ran over the seizure advice in his mind again. He'd been drilled on it a few times, but he was still worried, even though he knew he wasn't going to be alone in it.

Ethan was waiting outside Sam's room, and he smiled as he saw them approaching. "You might want to brace yourselves," he said.

"Why? What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Nothing is wrong," he said easily. "Sam is just very impatient to be out of here. Anyone would think he didn't like us."

Dean shook his head, smiling, as he pushed open the door and went inside.

Sam was sitting on the side of the bed, his duffel beside him and a scowl on his face. "You were gone too long," he said disapprovingly.

"Sorry, Sam. We were taking advantage of the cafeteria for the last time," Alfie said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Sam said. "I want to go now."

"We've just got to see the doctor one last time," Dean said. "You sure you've got everything packed?"

"Yes," Sam said firmly. "I'm ready."

"I'll go find the doctor then."

He walked out onto the hall and started towards the nurses' station where Doctor Maddox was just making some notes on a clipboard.

She looked up and smiled as he approached. "I was just going to come to find you. I understand Sam is ready to go."

"More than ready," Dean said with feeling.

"Okay then. I have already spoken to him, but I need to go over his discharge instructions with you, too. As you know, Sam's stitches have been removed and he's showing good signs of healing. There's a pamphlet here for aftercare instructions, and you already have one for dealing with seizures."

"Yeah. I've been studying it with Alfie. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Not at the moment. I will arrange a follow up appointment for Sam in a few weeks. I hope we don't need to see you before then, but if something happens that worries you and Alfie, call or bring him back into the ER. I think you'll be fine though. Sam has made a good physical recovery from his abdominal surgery, and we are dealing with his other injuries. Now, I have you registered at Alfie's address. If that changes, if you leave for any reason, you need to contact us and let us know where to reach you."

"I will," Dean said. "Anything else?"

"Just some forms to sign to say you're comfortable taking Sam into your care," she said, gesturing to the clipboard. "I've marked the places."

Dean quickly scrawled the invented signature for Dean Smith on the pages and handed it to her.

She checked them and nodded. "Thank you, Dean. Can I just say what a pleasure it has been to meet you and Sam. I'm sorry that it was under these circumstances, but the way you have risen to the challenges you and Sam are going to face is worthy of pride. You are a good man and brother."

Dean felt his cheeks warming. "Thanks, Doc, for everything. We both appreciate it." He shook her hand and then went back to Sam's room.

Sam was on his feet now, his duffel in his hand. "Can we go?" he asked Dean hopefully.

"Yeah. We're ready."

Dean held out his hand for Sam's duffel and he pulled it back with a scowl. "I can manage."

"If you're still refusing a wheelchair to the exit, I'm carrying the bag," Dean said. "You're still getting back on your feet, and this is a longer walk than you've done yet."

Sam handed the bag over with a glare and walked to the door where Alfie stood. Alfie gestured him out ahead and then followed after him. Dean thanked Ethan for his help then caught up with them at the elevators.

As they rode down to the first floor, Sam tapped his fingers on his legs. He seemed stressed, but when Dean asked if he was okay, he said he was fine with obvious irritation.

Sam was slowing by the time they got to the exit, and Dean thought he was getting tired, but he hesitated before offering to bring the car around, not wanting to annoy him again.

"I'll meet you at the lot exit," Alfie said. "You can follow me back from there."

"Thanks," Dean said as Alfie walked away.

Sam negated the question of whether he wanted Dean to bring the car by wandering off in the wrong direction.

"This way, Sam," Dean said hurrying after him and tugging his arm.

Sam allowed him to lead him to the spot the plastic Impala was parked, and Dean unlocked the doors with the key fob.

Sam frowned. "This isn't our car."

"It is for now."

"Why?" Sam asked, and then he paled. "Did I crash the Impala again?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "And you didn't crash it last time either. Being run off the road by a semi wasn't your fault."

"Did I hurt someone again?" he asked.

Dean frowned. He had no idea Sam believed he had hurt anyone last time either. Sure, they'd all been banged up in the crash, but that was a demon's fault, not Sam's. How could so many years have passed without them talking about this?

"You didn't hurt anyone last time or this," Dean said. "None of it was your fault. It was only you that was hurt, though I'm guessing you scared the crap out of the truckdriver."

"Sorry," Sam said.

"It's not your fault," Dean said again. "You crashed a crappy burner that no one cares about. The Impala is fine, but we're not using her right now. Come on, we're keeping Alfie waiting."

Sam opened the passenger door and climbed in, and Dean threw the duffel onto the back seat with his own before climbing in behind the wheel. Sam settled in his seat and then looked expectantly at Dean.

"Put your seatbelt on," Dean said.

Sam frowned. "We never wear seatbelts."

"That was before you hit a semi," Dean said. "Please put it on. It'll make me feel better."

Scowling, Sam obeyed and then waited as Dean started the engine. It was his first time driving it, and as soon as the engine caught, an alarm started sounding.

"What the hell?" It couldn't be busted. Garth had bought it from an actual dealership. He checked the dash and saw a blinking red light with an image of a seatbelt on it. "You're kidding!"

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"The car's being a little bitch," Dean said, pulling at his seatbelt. "It's going to bug the shit out of me unless I wear this damn thing."

Sam laughed. "I like this car."

Dean smiled. "I bet you do."

The alarm ended when Dean clipped the seatbelt in place, but Sam still laughed. Dean cast him a fond smile as he pulled out of their spot and drove to the exit where Alfie had pulled over and was waiting for them. He drove out and Dean fell into place behind him.

Sam peered out of the window as they drove along the streets, looking thoughtful. "Where are we?" he asked.

Dean realized he hadn't checked out how much Sam remembered of their present. He was wary of testing it now, as he didn't know how much Sam was aware of the Leviathans. He didn't remember Bobby dying after all.

"We're in Portland, Oregon. We were here on a case."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Did we fix it?"

Deciding the truth wasn't the way to go, Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's done. Look, Sammy, we should have talked about this before, but we can't talk about hunting in front of Alfie and Elsie. They don't know about that part of the world. Elsie, Alfie's wife, has read Chuck's books, but they're just stories to them."

"They'd be scared?"

"Exactly, and we don't want that. They've been so good to us, so we need to take care of them, too. If you have to talk about it, wait until it's just you and me, okay?"

Sam nodded. "I can do that."

"I know," Dean said, leaning across the console and patting his arm. "You're doing awesome."

Sam frowned at him and Dean realized he might have just made a slip in treating Sam the right way. He wouldn't have phrased it like that before Sam's accident, so he'd probably come off as patronizing, or worse: treating Sam like a child. He would have to be more aware. He wanted Sam to feel like himself, not a child.

"We both are," he said with a nervous laugh. "And we're going to be living the full-on 'Leave it to Beaver' life for a while, too. I think that's pretty special."

"It won't be the same," Sam said, sounding sad.

"Is that a problem?" Dean asked. "If you can't handle this, we can explain it to Alfie and go get a motel somewhere. We have enough cash to last us a while."

"No. You need this," Sam said. "I can do it."

Dean did need this, not just for Sam but for himself, too. He wasn't ready for them to be alone yet. That wasn't what Sam meant though; he was surely thinking of Dean's misleading words about not being on his feet either. Dean chose not to correct him. It wasn't treating him like a child; it was protecting him.

Alfie put his blinker on and turned into a side street, and Dean followed him. The roads were lined with houses, and Dean wondered which one would be Alfie's. They were all similar looking, clapboard walls and neatly trimmed grass. They continued around a corner to a less populated area, and Alfie drove right to the end of the street where there was a large house set alone in a vast front yard. He pulled up on the double driveway and Dean pulled up beside him.

The house was light blue clapboard with white trim that a man on a ladder was painting. There was a porch that wrapped around the front and there were small potted bushes on either side of the door. The path that led to the steps onto the porch were flagstones in varying shades of grey and lined with white stones. It was much bigger than Dean had expected, and he wondered how comfortable they would be in a place so fancy.

Sam looked out of the window with a look of shocked surprise.

"What do you think?" Dean asked him.

"I think it's nice," he said. "It looks like a home."

"It is," Dean said. "It's Alfie's, and he's going to share it with us."

Sam nodded. "He's good. I like him."

"Me too," Dean said with a smile.

Alfie climbed out of his car and looked back at them.

"Come on, Sammy, let's check it out." He realized as he said it that it was the sort of thing he'd say when scouting a house for a case. It was a similar situation, though there was no danger. They were checking it out as a home not hunt.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out. Sam hesitated a moment before doing the same. They walked to Alfie and he gestured expansively at the house. "What do you think?" he asked.

"It's great," Dean said. "Really nice. Right, Sam?"

"It's a home," Sam stated.

"It is," Alfie agreed. "And it will be yours as long as you want it. We should get inside. I am sure Elsie is getting impatient in there waiting for us. He set off along the path to the house and then stopped as the door flew open and a woman rushed out.

Dean had a clear mental image of Elsie before he met here, but she was nothing like he'd expected. She was slim and tall, whereas he'd imagined her to be small and round. She walked spritely down the steps, almost dancing to them, whereas Dean had imagined she would be a little more careful on her feet. Her red hair was copiously threaded with grey, and it was pinned back in a knot at the back of her neck. Dean expected tea dresses and pearls in place of the loose cotton pants and blouse she wore. The only expectation of her he'd had right was that she wore a beaming smile on her lined face when she saw them.

"Dean! Sam!" she said happily. "It's so good to finally meet you. Alfie has been keeping you to himself so long I thought he would never share."

"Now, Elsie, you know that's not true," Alfie said. "I just thought they would need a little peace while Sam was still unwell."

"You were with them," she said pointedly. "And you're hardly a restful person. Tell me, Dean, how many patients did he muscle in on while he was at the hospital?"

"None that I saw," Dean said with a laugh, though he remembered Alfie's propensity to sneak peeks at Sam's chart.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I believe you," she said.

"He's been very good to us," Dean said loyally.

She beamed at her husband. "I'm sure he was. Lord knows my Alfie has his faults, but he's a born caretaker."

"He's good," Sam supplied.

"He is," she agreed, turning her wide smile on Sam. "It's so good to meet you, Sam. I have heard so much about you. It's wonderful to be able to put a face to the name at long last, and what a handsome face it is."

Sam ducked his head with a smile.

"Are we going to keep them out here all day or do you plan on letting them see inside the house, too?" Alfie asked her.

"Forgive me," she said. "Come on in and see our home."

She looped her arm through Sam's, and Dean froze; he had no idea how Sam would react. Even before his injury, Sam would have been uncertain at this easy touch from someone who was practically a stranger. He watched carefully, but Sam caught him off guard when he let her lead him to the house with a wide smile.

"That was unexpected," Alfie said quietly.

"She's special," Dean said. "Sam feels it, too."

"She is," he agreed, following his wife and Sam up the stairs and into the house.

When he got inside, Dean saw one of his expectations of Alfie's life had been met. The furniture in the hall was dark wood and old fashioned. The telephone was an old rotary-dial model and there was a notepad beside it with a floral border on a lace doily. There was also a basket that Dean guessed was the one Alfie had mentioned for their grandchildren to stow their phones in when they visited. The walls were decorated with watercolors of beach scenes and flowers. Dean examined one.

"They're Elsie's work," Alfie said, seeing where he was looking. "She'll paint anything if it stays still long enough. We've got her a studio in the garden, but she leaves sketchbooks all around the house like a dog sheds hair."

Dean chuckled. "She's really good."

"She is," Alfie agreed proudly. "Come through."

Dean followed Alfie into a kitchen with a long scrubbed-pine table and white cabinets. The room was filled with the scent of baked apple and cinnamon. Much to Dean's delight, he saw a pie cooling on a plate beside the window.

Elsie was chattering to Sam and encouraging him to sit at the table while she fetched them coffee. Sam took a seat and looked expectantly at Dean. "Elsie made you pie," he said.

Elsie smiled at Dean. "I know you and Alfie ate at the hospital—some of those greasy fries I'm sure—but I thought you'd like a welcoming snack to arrive to. Have a seat and I'll bring you some over."

"Thank you," Dean said, sitting beside Sam.

"It wasn't greasy fries," Alfie said, going to a cabinet and pulling out coffee cups.

"Really?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Really. They weren't remotely greasy. Very crisp in fact."

She waved a hand at him. "I hope you enjoyed them, Alfie. You won't have a chance or excuse to eat them again for a while now Sam's here, taking away your access to cafeteria food."

"I'm aware," Alfie said, looking a little disconsolate. He rallied quickly and set the cups on a tray as Elsie decanted the coffee from the stove into a silver pot. She added a bowl of sugar cubes and a jug of cream then nodded to Alfie and he carried it to the table. He set it down on the end of the table and asked, "Dean, you take it black, don't you? Sam, how about you?"

"Cream please," Sam said.

Alfie poured two cups and Elsie added cream to Sam's then passed them along. Dean held the cup in his hand and felt the pleasant warmth seeping through the china, enjoying the smell of good coffee.

"Here you are, Elsie," Alfie said, putting two sugar cubes into the mug and handing it to her. "Sweet as you are."

Elsie laughed. "Charm me all you like, I'm still not letting you go back to the hospital to sate your needs for refined carbohydrates. We have meatloaf for dinner." She winked at Dean and he grinned.

"Sounds lovely," Alfie said.

They went to the counter and Alfie retrieved plates while she cut the pie. "I know you're a yes, Dean, but what about you, Sam? Do you have a sweet tooth, too?"

"I'd like some pie," Sam answered. He didn't usually indulge in sweet food apart from at breakfast sometimes, but Dean guessed being polite was one of the things that was still firmly entrenched in Sam.

Elsie beamed and placed a slice on a plate for him. Alfie carried it to the table and Dean watched the way they moved together. It was like a dance that only the two of them knew the steps to.

When they were all seated with their coffees and pie, Elsie brushed a hand down her front and said, "Excuse the clothes. I was helping Simon out there with the trim."

Alfie raised an eyebrow. "You were helping him?"

"Yes," she said obstinately. "I opened the tins for him and washed his brushes. I would have done more, but he wouldn't let me up the ladder."

"I should think not. You wouldn't let me up there to paint, so what makes you think you'd do any better?"

"Because, dearest, I am much steadier on my feet. Besides, Dean and Sam needed you more than I needed the trim to be painted."

Alfie grumbled but Dean saw his eyes were smiling. They had the kind of relationship to which this teasing was natural. The decades they'd spent together removed any possible insult from their words. They knew each other completely in a way Dean had never shared with a woman. He only knew Sam this well.

He looked at his brother and saw he was eating his pie with a concentrated look. "You enjoying that, Sammy?" he asked.

"Yes," Sam said. "I like it."

"That's good," Elsie said, obviously pleased. "I have so many recipes I want to try out on you both. Alfie has stopped appreciating my experimentation."

"Not at all," Alfie said. "I always enjoy what you make."

"Hmm…" She looked unconvinced. "I think Sam and Dean will be more willing participants."

"I'm sure they will," Alfie said, casting her an affectionate smile. "They're far better men than I."

Dean wasn't sure about that. They saved lives, but so had Alfie. Dean didn't think he and Sam could have opened their home—if they'd had one—or lives to other people the way Elsie and Alfie had.

Sam was definitely a better man. He had made his mistakes, but he was still a man that would open his heart to people, despite knowing it often ended in hurt.

He glanced at Sam, appraising him, but his smile fell as he saw Sam's blank face and the fork held loosely in his lax hands.

He was gone again.

So… What do you think of Elsie? I was waiting to write her for so long that this chapter was a fast favorite. I love her relationship with Alfie, and I think Dean and Sam need someone like her in their lives. I know some of you were waiting impatiently to meet her, too. Does she live up to expectations?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx