Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this mess for me and Gredelina1 for all your help and supportive words. Love you ladies xxx

Chapter Eleven

Sam was sitting beside Elsie on the couch, listening as she told him about her current art project and examining the sketchbook she was showing him. Dean thought it was more than the polite interest that Sam would show a witness that he was giving her. He seemed engaged again.

His absence in the kitchen had been brief, and he hadn't seemed too upset when he came back. He had just shaken his head and carried on eating as if there had been no interruption. He'd remained present through the rest of the afternoon and dinner and remained settled with Alfie downstairs while Elsie showed Dean the room he and Sam would be using while staying with them. Dean had been surprised by it. It had the floral drapes and matching bedding on the queen beds he'd been expecting, but it was light and airy, with large windows that looked onto the back garden. It was definitely quainter than Dean was usually comfortable with, but it was undeniably a home, and that was what Sam needed.

"I shall take care of the dishes," Alfie said, getting out of his armchair.

"Thank you, dear," Elsie said, casting him a distracted smile as she showed Sam a sketch she had been working on before they arrived.

"I'll help," Dean said, standing. He remembered what Doctor Maddox had said about letting Sam do things like this, but he looked tired after the efforts of the day and Dean figured he could start with that stuff tomorrow. He was still working on something, bonding with Elsie, and Dean thought that was just as important for him as being physically active.

He and Alfie walked into the kitchen. Alfie went to the sink and began filling the sink with water, dumping in some dish soap.

"I'll wash if you load," Alfie said, opening what Dean had thought was a cupboard and revealing a dishwasher.

Dean smiled, remembering the way Lisa had insisted on cleaning the dishes before putting them into the machine Dean thought was designed to do the job for them instead. "No problem."

Alfie rolled up his sleeves and began. Dean loaded the plates into the racks, listening to the hum of Elsie's voice in the living room as she spoke to Sam. It was occasionally interrupted by Sam's brief questions. Dean remembered the way Sam had spoken before the accident, run on sentences that had seemed to go on forever when he was excited about something. He spoke in clipped sentences now. Dean wondered if that was just a habit he'd fallen into or if it was easier for his injured mind to create these shorter sentences.

Alfie drew a deep breath and Dean paused to look at him. He seemed to be gathering himself for something.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Can I ask you something?"

Dean wondered what kind of question could presage this introduction. "Sure. Go ahead."

"What did you and Sam do for a living before the accident?" he asked.

Dean felt a jolt in his stomach. They'd never discussed much about Dean and Sam's life before the accident. Alfie knew they lived on the road, but that was it. He had his stock answer ready, but he didn't feel right giving it to someone that had been so open and honest with him. He had no other choice though.

"We're freelance reporters," he said. "We investigate stories and write them under a shared byline and sell them to newspapers. It's a good living as long as you don't mind life on the road."

"Ah," Alfie said thoughtfully. "You're not FBI then?"

Dean laughed nervously. He was a little close to the truth. "Definitely not."

"Not US Marshals either? Or CDC? Or insurance investigators?"

Dean paled. He'd been rumbled and he knew it. He wondered if Sam had let it slip while Dean had been upstairs with Elsie. He wouldn't have been able to help it. Asking Sam to remember that they weren't to talk about hunting wasn't something he could rely on, even though Sam had seemed to know the stakes.

He turned away and adjusted the plates in the rack to give himself a little breathing space. "Why are you asking this, Alfie?"

"Because I am close to believing something that seems impossible."

Dean straightened and leaned against the counter. "What are you thinking?"

Alfie dried his hands on a dishcloth and said, "I read those books of Elsie's. They are awful by the way, but I couldn't seem to stop. I've been buried in them most times I'm not with you. I saw some real similarities between the men in the stories and you and Sam."

"Like?"

"You said Sam was at Stanford and he was going to be a lawyer. I saw that in the first book; before Dean came for him, that's where he was with Jessica. Sam's mentioned someone named Jess, too, and Bobby, and there was a Bobby in some of the books. You said you raised Sam, and you know wound care. I read about Sam and Dean stitching each other and themselves up times than I would have liked." He looked Dean in the eye. "I think you're the real Sam and Dean that Carver Edlund wrote about. Am I right?"

Dean couldn't lie to him. It was too late to do anything to reassure Alfie; all he could offer now was honesty.

"Did you tell Elsie?" he asked.

Alfie's eyebrows rose. "I'm right?"

Dean nodded.

"Boy, oh boy. I thought so, but hearing it's the truth is something different altogether. In answer to your question, I didn't tell Elsie; she told me. When I came home each day, I would tell her what I'd learned about you. I wasn't gossiping; I just wanted her to know you as well as I did. But she connected the dots early and made me read the first book that day. The clues kept coming so I kept reading. It was more than just the little similarities, though. It was who Dean was in those stories. I couldn't get a good enough gauge on Sam at first, because he was sleeping, but Dean in the book was so clear to me, so similar. The way you care about Sam, it was in the pages of those books. I didn't want to believe it at first. I like you Dean, and I didn't want to think about those things happening to you, but I had to in the end."

"Yeah, I get that," Dean said with a sigh. "Me and Sam are what we call hunters. We're really called Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Winchester," he said thoughtfully. "That's a good name. It suits you both. And you truly hunt those things?"

"Yeah, we take care of all the creatures you've read about. There's been a lot more than the ones that made it into the books. We've spent years doing it. All my adult life and half my childhood was spent hunting."

"All those things are real," Alfie said, looking sober. "Those demons and monsters?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to wrap your mind around, but it's very unlikely you'll ever come into contact with them in your life. There's way more people out there than there are monsters. We didn't want you to know, me and Sam, as we didn't want you to be scared. Even the way he is now, Sam knew we couldn't let you find out."

"I guess we owe you our thanks," Alfie said. "I don't just mean for wanting to protect us. I mean for all you've done for the world. You've saved a lot of lives."

"You've no idea," Dean said, thinking of Sam throwing himself into a pit in the ground to save the world.

"There's so much more that we don't know, isn't there?"

"Yeah."

"Will you tell us about it?"

"Later," Dean said. "I don't want Sam upset, and I'm not sure how much he remembers. He might get scared if I trigger something. He's been through a lot."

"The trauma," Alfie said.

"Exactly."

"I have one question, if I can ask?"

"Go ahead," Dean said, knowing there was nothing else he could deny Alfie or Elsie now.

"How on earth did you end up with a series of mediocre books written about you?"

Dean laughed. "That's a really long story."

"We have time."

Dean tried to wrangle his thoughts so he could even being to explain Chuck's other life as a prophet, but at that moment, Elsie called out in a panicked voice, "Alfie! Dean!"

Dean raced into the living room in time to see Sam slipping from the couch onto the floor. Dean rushed forward to ease his descent, but he was too slow. Sam caught his cheek on the corner of a table going down and cut it.

He hit the floor hard and began to convulse, his elbows drawing in at his sides and his legs jerking as his head strained back and his teeth gritted. His head was close to a small end table so Dean pushed it back quickly and then kneeled beside Sam, knowing there was no way he'd be able to get him on his side safely while he was bucking like that. He wanted to reach for Sam, to reassure him with touch, but he knew he would likely end up hurting Sam or himself, so he laid his hands flat on his knees and waited for it to pass.

The sound Sam's heels made as they drummed against the floor seemed to echo in Dean's head and he tried to block it out by listening to Alfie gently reassuring Elsie and running over everything he'd learned to make sure he was doing the right things. The message had seemed to be to let them ride it out, and that was what Dean was doing. He thought that he must be doing okay as Alfie wasn't advising him or helping.

He timed the seizure with his watch, wanting to be aware if it passed the five minutes threshold, but after only two minutes Sam began to calm and settle. The spasms stopped and he groaned.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said gently as Sam's eyes opened. "It's over now."

Sam looked around, his eyes settling on Dean and a frown creased his brow. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Do you feel ready to sit up?"

Sam nodded and pushed himself up. He leaned against the side of the couch and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What happened?"

"It was a seizure," Dean said. "But it wasn't a bad one. It didn't last long. How do you feel?"

"My head hurts." He touched the cut on his cheek and examined the smudge of blood on his finger. "Bleeding."

"I'll get the first aid kit," Elsie said, scurrying from the room.

"Can I check it, Sam?" Alfie asked.

Sam nodded and Alfie bent and turned Sam's face to the side to see the small cut. "It's fine," he said. "You won't need stitches. We'll just clean it up."

Dean had already surmised as much, but he was relieved Alfie was able to reassure Sam. This was the first seizure he was apparently aware of, and it had clearly upset him.

Elsie came back with a small green first aid kit. She handed it to Alfie and he offered it to Dean. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"That okay with you, Sam?" Dean asked. "You want me or a real doctor?"

"You," Sam answered quickly.

Dean opened the kit and took out a small pack of gauze and a disinfectant spray. He opened the gauze and uncapped the spray. "This might sting a little," he warned. "Close your eyes."

Sam obeyed and Dean sprayed the small wound then dabbed away the excess with the gauze. Sam didn't even flinch. Ordinarily, Dean wouldn't have expected him to as he had the pain threshold earned in Hell, but he'd seemed a little more vulnerable and open since the accident. Dean was pleased in a way that this pain didn't bother him.

"There," he said, balling up the used gauze and capping the spray again and stowing it in the first aid kit. "All done."

"Thank you," Sam said quietly.

"What do you want to do now?" Dean asked. "You feel ready to get up? You can stay here a little longer, or if you're tired, I can show you where we're sleeping."

"I want to do what we were doing," Sam said.

"What were you doing, Sam?" Alfie asked. "Do you remember?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer and then hesitated. "No. I don't remember." He looked upset.

"That's okay," Alfie said. "Confusion is normal after a seizure."

"How about you get some sleep?" Dean said. "Doctor Platt is coming tomorrow, so you'll want to be ready."

"Who's he?"

"The doctor that asks the questions, remember? You met him a few times in the hospital."

"I know," Sam said, but Dean wasn't convinced he did. He sounded a little vague still. "I want to sleep."

Dean stood and held out a hand to Sam. Sam took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. Dean tossed the gauze into the wastepaper basket and led Sam out of the room to the hall.

There was a flight of polished wooden stairs with a carpet runner leading to the second floor, and Dean went up them slowly so Sam wouldn't have to rush. He figured his brother might be feeling a little shaky still. Sam stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at the row of doors. Dean had only been into the guest room and the attached bathroom, but there were many more doors as yet unopened. He went to the room he and Sam would share and opened the door. Sam's eyes roved the room as he entered, taking in the floral décor and the wide window and the dusky sky outside.

"We've got our own bathroom," Dean said, opening the door and showing Sam the neat and clean room.

Sam nodded. "It's a home." He had said that more than once now, and Dean thought it had real meaning to him, just as he had hoped it would.

Dean gestured to his duffel and said, "You want to get changed?"

Sam took out his wash kit and some clothes and walked into the bathroom. He closed the door but didn't lock it, for which Dean was relieved. If something was to happen to him, Dean would get in to him fast, but he didn't want to damage Alfie and Elsie's home.

He sat on the bed and waited for Sam to finish.

He didn't have to wait long. Sam opened the door and came out with his dirty clothes in his hands. He stowed them in the duffel at the end of the second bed and pulled back the bedclothes. He punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape and lay down.

Dean closed the drapes and asked. "You want me to stay here, too?"

"No. I'm tired. Don't want to talk."

"Okay. You want a light left on?" Dean asked.

"I'm not a kid, Dean."

"I know. I just figured you might be used to it after the hospital," Dean lied. It was another slip. He would have never asked Sam that before. He just wanted him to feel safe and comfortable. He should have let Sam ask himself if that was what he wanted.

"I'm fine," Sam said.

Dean walked to the door and tried to frame his words so they would not be patronizing. He wanted Sam to know to call if he needed and that he would be close. "I'm going down to talk to Alfie and Elsie a little longer," he said.

"Okay," Sam said closing his eyes.

Dean clicked the overhead light off and began to close the door behind him. He heard a quiet gasp and then the click as a light beside the bed was turned on. He closed the door and paused in the hall to take a breath. Sam did need the light. Did that mean he was scared? He couldn't ask, but he thought he might be.

Dean shook his head and went down to the living room again. Alfie was sitting in his armchair with a cup of coffee in his hands, and Elsie was on the couch, her sketchbook open beside her.

"Would you like a coffee?" she asked Dean.

"I'll get it," Dean said.

He poured himself a cup from the tray on the table and sat down on the second couch. The TV was playing a news channel on mute, and Dean read the headlines displayed on the tape at the bottom on the screen for a moment before looking up as Alfie spoke. "You did very well with Sam's seizure."

"Yeah? Feels like I was just watching it happen."

"Exactly. You did what you were supposed to do. I know it's tempting to hold him and offer comfort, but it's ultimately more likely to hurt him. You did the right thing. And you were calm and careful when it finished. If Sam can see you reacting as if it isn't serious, he is more likely to believe that himself."

"He's still a little shaky," Dean said. "He left the light on to sleep."

"He might be a little disoriented still. That will pass. It's also his first night in a new place. Patients with brain injuries are more likely to struggle with things like that. He will fall into a routine soon and that will settle him."

"It's feels so strange," Dean said. "He spent almost all of his life staying in motels, so there was never any stability, but that never bothered him before."

"It's different now," Alfie reminded him.

"I know," Dean sighed. "I just wish it wasn't."

Elsie had watched their exchange with a sympathetic look, but after a moment she seemed unable to contain herself any longer. "Can I ask you something, Dean?"

"Sure."

She looked embarrassed but her eyes were alight with excitement as she leaned forward and asked, "How did you get out of Hell?"

Dean huffed a laugh. Though he guessed he should have expected the question to come from one of them, he was still surprised by it. "Wow. That's a helluva question," he said.

"It was Sam, wasn't it? I knew he'd find a way save you. I just knew it. How did he do it?"

"It wasn't Sammy," he said. "He tried, he did everything he could to get me back. He tried to deal but no demon would help him. He tried to open the Devil's Gate, even. Nothing worked. It ruined him."

"Poor Sam," she whispered.

"It was angels in the end," he said. "They stormed the place and pulled me out."

"Angels are real?" Alfie asked. He didn't sound shocked, more interested on an academic level.

"Yeah, but most of them are dicks. There was only one that was ultimately any good really, and he let us down in the end, too. His name was Castiel. He became our friend, but he made some bad choices and one of them got him killed. He was another one lost because of our life."

"And you lost Bobby, too," she said sympathetically.

"Yeah. Feels like we lost everyone. Bobby died this year, but before that it was Ellen and Jo, Rufus. We even lost Adam and Gabriel."

"Gabriel? The archangel?" Alfie said, as Elsie asked, "Who's Adam?"

"Adam was our half-brother. Dad met his mother about six years after Mom died and they had a son. We didn't know anything about him until he was already dead. He was just a college kid when a couple ghouls took him out. We met him again later, when the angels brought him back to be Michael's vessel."

They both looked at him blankly and Dean smiled slightly. "Do you really want to know about this? It's kinda heavy."

"I want to know," Elsie said.

"Okay, a few years back, there were all kinds of disasters, do you remember? The hurricanes and earthquakes, and that town in Missouri where everyone died overnight?"

Elsie pointed a finger at Alfie. "I told you, didn't I? I said it was like something out of the books. Was it that Lilith? She was trouble."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, she was trouble, but it wasn't her. She was dead by then; Sam killed her. It was the actual apocalypse. A lot of stuff happened, but Sam and I were in the middle of it because we were supposed to be the vessels for Lucifer and Michael."

"The Devil?" Alfie asked with that same tone of academic interest.

"Yeah. Lilith managed to set him free, and there was supposed to be a battle between him and Michael. Angels don't have bodies on earth. They have to possess people, a little like demons. They have to gain consent, and it has to be someone from a certain bloodline, but they take the bodies and that's how they get around down here. You see an angel in its true form, it'll burn your eyes out. That happened to a friend of ours. Anyway, Sam and I were the bloodline for Michael and Lucifer — what they called their true vessels. Sam was Lucifer's and I was Michael's."

"How did you end it?" Alfie asked. "Those things, the tragedies, all stopped suddenly."

"It was Sam. He said yes to Lucifer, took him in and then overpowered him. Lucifer had been in a cage in Hell, and Sam took him back there along with Michael."

"Goodness," Elsie said, her hand on her heart. "That's incredible."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, it was. But Sam was trapped there, too."

"In Hell?"

"Yes. With two angry archangels," Dean said. "Castiel got his body out again pretty quick, but he screwed up; Sam's soul was left behind. He spent almost two centuries locked in there, being tortured by them."

"Centuries?" Alfie asked, obviously confused.

"Hell time works differently to up here," Dean explained. "I was there four months before Castiel got me out, but it was about forty years for me. Sam was gone eighteen months."

"Dear Lord," Alfie breathed. "How did you come out intact?"

"I'm not sure I did," Dean admitted. "I'm definitely not the same man that the hounds came for. And Sam was gone so much longer. That's the trauma that he's still living with—Lucifer and Michael. They broke him. When he zones out, he's seeing Lucifer."

"That poor boy," Elsie said sadly.

"Exactly. Sammy saved the world, but it almost ruined him. Even before the accident, he was suffering. I thought I was losing him already."

"You haven't though," Alfie said. "I can't even begin to imagine what you and Sam have been through, but you've not changed so much that you've lost your ability to fight. You've both doing incredibly well."

"And you're not alone anymore," Elsie said. "I know you have lost so much, but we're here now. We will help you in any way we can. You don't ever have to leave if you don't want to. Alfie and I will help you as long as you need us to, and we'll make sure there are people to help when we're gone."

"Don't write us off yet, Elsie," Alfie said disapprovingly. "We've got at least another twenty years in us. As long as we hold on to our marbles, we'll be fine. And I don't believe Sam and Dean will need us that long. Like Elsie said, you can stay here as long as you want, and we will always welcome you back, but I have seen enough in those books to know that you won't need that long. Even if Sam doesn't improve, and I believe he will, you know how to take care of him, don't you?"

"Think I'm getting to, yeah," Dean said.

"Exactly. You have been through literal hell, I know that now, and that has increased my respect for you hundredfold, but I think you've still got more to face. Am I right?"

Dean thought of the Leviathans and the team fighting them right now. "Yeah. There's more."

"Then we will help you until you're ready to face it," Alfie said with a nod. "Now, I have one more question, and then we'll leave you in peace at least a little longer. I can't guarantee how long with Elsie's curiosity being what it is though."

"Go ahead and ask," Dean said.

"How did you end up with these books written about your life?"

Dean smiled. "Carver Edlund is actually called Chuck, and he's a prophet…"

As he explained Chuck, the prophet with a propensity for drinking binges, he relaxed a little. There were fewer secrets between them now, and they had made promises that made him a lot more confident in Sam's future.

He was starting to believe it would work out.

So… They know the truth. Like a lot of ideas I have that develop into something more, the mention of the books in the first chapter was just supposed to be a fun detail. I didn't realize what part Alfie and Elsie would have in the story, so I didn't think it would come into play again. I love that they know the real Sam and Dean now. They deserve some thanks from time to time.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx