Thanks so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing, and Gredelina1 for all your help and support. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. You have all blown me away with the response to the story xxx

Chapter Twelve

Dean was shaking Sam's meds onto a small plate to take to him while Sam sat at the table, nursing his coffee and staring out of the window. Elsie had gone to her studio early and Alfie was reading the newspaper in the living room, as was his custom in the morning.

Dean capped the bottles, carried the plate over to the table and set it down in front of Sam then went to fetch him a glass of water. He gave it to Sam and said, "Down the hatch."

Sam scowled. "I don't want them."

"I know, man, but you need them. They'll help the seizures."

"There's too many."

Dean hesitated. It wasn't just the seizure meds on the plate. There were the anti-depressants and anti-psychotics, too. "They're all important."

"What do they do?" Sam asked.

Dean wished he hadn't framed the question like that as he would have to lie to him now. "They'll help you," he said evasively

"They won't make me sleep?"

"I don't think so. They haven't before, have they?"

"I don't know." Sam sighed heavily as he picked them up one by one and tossed them back followed by the water.

Dean wondered why he was asking about sleeping. He hadn't noticed any trouble before. Sam had always been sleeping peacefully when he woke in the night to check on him. He decided not to push and ask yet, as Sam wasn't having a good morning. He had been more abrupt than usual at breakfast, not even engaging with Elsie who could usually draw him out. He'd also had another absence. He would ask later when Sam was happier.

"They don't work," Sam said as Dean picked up the plate and empty glass and carried them to the sink to wash.

"What doesn't work?" Dean asked.

"The pills. It still happens."

"I know," Dean said sadly. Sam had had two more seizures since they had moved in. It seemed that they were worse than they had been in the hospital even. He had been warned the medication might take time to work, but if things didn't settle, he would talk to Alfie about their options. Maybe there was a different medication they could try out sooner rather than later. It exhausted and unsettled Sam when the seizures came. "Give them some more time. If not, we'll do something about it."

"I want Alfie," Sam said as he pushed away from the table and stomped out of the room.

"He's in the living room," Dean called after him, knowing Alfie wouldn't mind the interruption. He seemed to have endless patience. Dean wondered if it was a part of being a doctor or if it was just Alfie's good nature.

He tipped the remains of Sam's coffee down the sink, washed out the cup, plate and glass, then loaded them in the dishwasher with the rest of their breakfast things and set it to working.

He wiped the table down and then looked around for anything else that needed to be done. He wanted to help as much as he could to make their stay as little of an inconvenience to Alfie and Elsie as he could. There was nothing, so he stopped and leaned against the counter a moment, sighing.

Alfie came in, his newspaper tucked under his arm. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean frowned at him. "Didn't Sam come in to see you?"

"No. Why?"

Dean shrugged. "He said he wanted you."

"He must have changed his mind. He took a book into the sun room."

"Yeah, he must have."

"How are you, Dean?" Alfie asked solicitously.

"I'm okay," Dean said. "Sam didn't want to take his meds again this morning, but he didn't put up too much of a fight. If he's reading now, it means he's calmer."

"That's good, but it is also Sam. I am asking about you."

"I am how Sam is though," Dean said. "He's the priority now."

"His health is, yes," Alfie agreed. "But he's not the only one I am here to care for. I told you before, Dean, you're my patient and I'm your doctor. I am of course interested in how Sam is, but right now I would like to hear about you."

Dean wanted to evade the question with an easy reply as he usually would, but he couldn't; Alfie would never let him. "I'm tired," he said. "Sam's sleeping fine, but I keep waking up and needing to check on him. It's like he'll slip away if I'm not careful."

Alfie nodded thoughtfully and set the newspaper down on the table. "That's perfectly normal. Sam has his trauma from Hell, but you have your own trauma, too. Yours is currently fixed on the accident. You saw something terrible in the wreck, and since then you have dealt with tremendous stresses. Caregiver fatigue is a common side-effect of these kind of situations. You have to let Elsie and I help more. We can give Sam his meds just as easily as you. Sam might take them from me better even, as he accepts me as a doctor. We can't watch him at night, of course, but the day's tasks can be shared between the three of us. We can monitor him easily if you need a break."

"Monitor…" Dean said quietly. "That's what it is, isn't it? He can drop and seize any moment, and we have to watch him."

"We do," Alfie said. "But there may be something we can do about that which means we will not have to physically watch Sam at every moment. It could give him some independence even."

"What?" Dean asked.

"I've been researching Sam's conditions since his diagnoses and I read about something called a wrist worn sensor. It looks like a watch, but it monitors for signs of seizure in heartrate, movement and skin changes. It will send an alert to your phone if it detects something. It would mean you'd be woken in the night if a seizure comes and you're sleeping still. It will also mean Sam can be alone longer periods. Do you think that would help?"

"Yeah," Dean said thoughtfully. "If Sam feels like he has more independence, that'd be great."

"And it will give you peace of mind," Alfie pointed out. "You will be able to go out of the house and know that if something happens, you won't need to rely on us to inform you while we could be with Sam."

"Where do I get one?"

"I can arrange for one to be delivered," Alfie said.

"Is it expensive?" Dean asked. "I've got cash."

It wasn't his own, it was Garth's, but he would use it for this if it would help Sam as he knew Garth wouldn't mind. Garth probably wouldn't mind if they blew it all on a weeklong bender in Vegas either. He was a good man; Dean saw that now.

"I will find out and let you know," Alfie said.

"Thanks, Alfie," Dean said. "I appreciate it."

"I know, and in return I would like you to do something for me."

"Anything," Dean said quickly.

Alfie looked pleased by the ready agreement. "I would like you to take a break. I will keep an eye on Sam while you go out for a while. It doesn't matter where you go as long as you're out and away from the house. There are some lovely parks nearby if you feel like walking. There's also a wide selection of stores at the mall if there's anything you need to buy for yourself or Sam."

"A mall?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you'd read the books, Alfie. Sam and I don't do malls. And we're not much into parks either."

"No, I suppose you're not," Alfie said thoughtfully. "In that case go for a drive. I know you do that often enough. I am your physician and this is my advice: take some space."

Dean grinned. "Okay. I can do that. I'll just let Sam know what I'm doing. He'll worry if I just disappear."

"Of course," Alfie said.

Dean smiled as he walked through the living room into the sun room. He was a little nervous about leaving Sam, but he wanted to present it in a positive light to make him calmer. He didn't think it would be that much of a problem, as Sam had developed a good relationship with both Elsie and Alfie, but he was having a difficult day, so he had to approach it the right way.

Sam wasn't in the sun room though. There was a book open on the table, but that was the only sign of him.

Worry crept into Dean, and he went back into the living room to check if he'd missed him. Alfie was in his armchair again, watching the news on the TV.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Sam's gone," Dean said tersely.

Unperturbed, Alfie said, "Have you checked the studio? He could have gone to see Elsie."

That made sense and Dean mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it himself. He went back out to the yard and started along the path to the studio. He spotted Sam before he got to the door though. He was standing on the other side of the wide yard beneath a tree, looking up at the branches with a look of concentration.

"Sammy," Dean said, his relief making a home in his voice as he hurried to him. "I was looking for you."

Sam looked at him and frowned. "I'm here."

"I see that now," Dean said with a laugh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I was just looking."

Dean stopped beside him and looked up at the tree, searching for what had held Sam's interest. He could see nothing but branches and green leaves. "What were you looking at?"

Sam reached for a branch and pulled it down for Dean to examine. "The buds. They're going to blossom."

"Oh, right," Dean said, not sure what the significance of blossom was but pleased Sam was engaged with something outside of one of them.

"They'll be flowers then pies."

Dean frowned. "Pies?"

Sam smiled slightly. "It's a cherry tree. It'll be pretty." He drew a breath and then said, "Jessica loved blossoms. There was a Japanese garden in Palo Alto that had lots of cherry trees. When they blossomed, we would go every day to study there. She would look at them. The flowers only last a couple weeks. We had to make the most of it. Jessica liked watching them fall. It was like snow. She would lay underneath and look. I sometimes shook the tree for her so they would fall down. She laughed. It made her so happy."

It was more than Dean had heard him say since he woke up; he held his breath so as not to break the spell. Sam had barely spoken about Jessica before, and he had never shared memories of her like this. Dean was entranced.

"She wanted a garden. We only had the apartment though. She had window boxes and pots inside. I told her I would give her a garden one day. We would have a cherry tree just for her. I wanted to make her happy."

Dean's eyes stung at the innocence of the statement. He could imagine Sam as he had been then, plotting his life with the woman he loved; a garden with trees she could lie under and laugh.

"I miss her, Dean," he said.

"Yeah, man, I know," Dean said a little hoarsely.

"She's not here anymore. Do you think she's okay?"

"I'm sure she is."

Jessica would be in Heaven now. Maybe she had her own Sam there. Maybe they sat beneath the flowering cherry trees all the time. Dean hoped they did. That sounded like the perfect place for her to spend eternity.

"I miss her," he said again.

Heart aching for his brother but fearing hurting him if he asked about her again, Dean diverted with a memory of his own. "Mom loved flowers, too. She and Dad split the backyard in two. There was grass for me and a swing set, but there was another part where I couldn't play. She had all flowerbeds there. I used to have a hard time not touching them. I wanted to pick them for her once, but she told me she liked to see them growing better." He smiled as her remembered her patient explanation. "She was always on at Dad to get rid of that out old tree out front."

"He didn't," Sam said. "I saw it when we…" He looked confused. "I saw it, didn't I?"

"You did," Dean said carefully, knowing he was walking a fine line now and cursing his slip. He still didn't know how much Sam remembered. He obviously knew about hunting as he'd asked about it, but he would ask about Jessica, and that had come after her death. He decided to break the topic. "I've got to go out a while. Will you be okay here with Alfie and Elsie?"

Sam shook his head quickly as if coming out of a daze. "Where is Elsie?"

"She's in her studio. You want to go see her?"

Sam nodded and walked away.

"I won't be gone long," Dean called after him.

Sam just raised a hand in acknowledgment. The spell that had opened his mind and words was broken again. Dean wondered if it would ever happen again. He hoped so.

Dean realized early after driving away from the house that he didn't know where to go. It wasn't the same as driving Baby, when he'd have been content to just drive around, hearing her purr to him. Driving in the piece of plastic was not rewarding or relaxing. He couldn't go back to Sam yet though, as Alfie would scold or, worse, worry. Dean had to rely on him and Elsie to take care of Sam.

It felt strange to be away from him, but also better. He was creating normal for Sam by leaving him a while, and everyone had advised him that treating Sam as 'normal' as possible was better for him.

He drove aimlessly along the streets at first and then stumbled upon the idea of going to the store. He could find something to take home. He didn't know what exactly, as Elsie kept the place well stocked, but he felt that he had to bring something back with him. He turned left and headed to the grocery store he'd passed on the way to Alfie's. He was still mulling over options when he spotted a liquor store that gave him a better idea. He could get something for Alfie, some brandy.

He pulled to a stop in a parking spot a little down from the store and climbed out. He had to step to the side to let a harried woman with a stroller pass him and then he went into the store.

A bell tinkled above the door, and a man looked up from the book he was reading at his spot seated behind the counter. He was wearing a red bowtie and velvet jacket, and his cheeks were ruddy. "Hello," he said cheerfully. "Would you like assistance or are you just browsing?"

Dean had never needed help in a liquor store before, so he said, "I'm good, thanks," politely and headed to the back of the small store where there was a selection of bottled liquor on offer.

He looked at the rows of bottles and a familiar thirst came to him. He hadn't had a real drink since Alfie's hipflask, but before that he'd been drinking heavily. He hadn't given it much thought before, but he wanted it now. He couldn't help but think how a bottle of whiskey would take the edge off of what had happened recently. He couldn't indulge the want though. Alfie and Elsie deserved better than to have him drinking in their home the way he had before, and he thought if he started, it would be hard to stop. Sam deserved better, too. Dean needed to keep his mind clear to take care of him.

He moved past the whiskey and looked at the brandies on sale. It occurred to him quickly that he had no idea what he was looking for in a bottle. He was a whiskey man, sometimes tequila, too, but he rarely drank brandy. They all looked good enough, fancy bottles with classy labels, but he wanted to get Alfie something special.

He walked back to the counter and said, "Actually, I need a little help after all. I'm looking for a good brandy, and I don't know what's what."

"Of course." The man walked around the small counter and went to the shelves of liquor. He picked up a bottle of golden brown brandy and held it out to Dean. "This is one of my best sellers. Martell VSOP. Aged four years and quite woody."

"It's a good one?" Dean asked.

"It's good but it's not the best," he said honestly. "How top shelf do you want to go?"

"It's for a friend," Dean explained. "He's been really good to me and my brother, and I want to get something special for him. I know he drinks brandy, but I have no idea if there's a brand he likes better."

The man considered. "I might have something." He reached up and took down a deep red box with gold trim. He walked back to the counter and Dean followed, watching as he opened the box and took out a uniquely shaped bottle. It was round with a short neck and silver cap. He set it down on the counter and said, "This is Remy Martin XO Excellence. I always keep a few bottles in stock for my doctor friend. He saved my life, and I like to do what I can to thank him by stocking his favorite brandy."

Dean smiled as he thought he'd connected the dots. "It wasn't Alfie, was it?"

"Alfred, yes," he said happily. "He was my doctor many years ago. You know him?"

"Yeah. He's been taking care of my brother and me. He's a good man."

"He is," he said, nodding energetically and making his bow tie bob. "He operated on my aneurism when no one else would. They told me I would be dead within weeks, faster if I opted for the surgery, but he said he'd to it, and I lived." He spread his arms expansively. "He's a hero to me."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, me too. So, this is the one he likes?"

"It's his favorite," he said. He tucked it back in its box and placed it in a white bag with the store name on the side in tasteful italics. He held it out to Dean and said, "Here. It's a gift."

"Thank you, but I'd rather pay," Dean said. "I want to get something to say thank you from me and my brother."

"Ah, of course," he said, nodding again.

He rang up the sale on the old-fashioned register. Dean opened his wallet and sorted through the cash Garth had given him then handed over the bills. He took the bottle and thanked the man then carried it to the door.

"Send my regards," he called after Dean.

"Sure… uh…"

"Malcom," he said. "Tell him Malcom is still grateful."

"I will." Dean waved a hand on farewell and then left.

As he walked along the sidewalk back to where he'd parked the Impala, Dean smiled to himself. He'd done what he set out to do; he'd got something for Alfie and he'd been away from the house a while. He did feel better for it, too. He'd done something that wasn't directly related to taking care of Sam, and it had been fine. Alfie would be pleased.

He climbed into the car and set the bottle down on the other seat then started the engine. Feeling more confident now, he decided to take the opportunity to call in and check on the Leviathan situation.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Annie's number. It rang through to voicemail though, so he ended the call without leaving a message and dialed Garth as he buckled in and pulled into the flowing traffic.

Garth answered after only a couple rings with a cheerful greeting. "Dean! How are ya?"

"Hey, Garth. Yeah, I'm doing okay."

"And Sam?"

"He's out of the hospital now," Dean said.

"That's awesome. Does that mean you guys are on your way to lend us your expertise now?"

"Not quite yet. Sam's got some more recovery to do first. We'll be there as soon as we can though."

"No rush," Garth said easily. "There's a lot of us on the case now. Walt and Roy have joined up. They were out your way recently in fact. There were a couple chompers running a real estate office that needed to be taken out. They're dealt with now. Heads and bodies buried separately. That borax stuff works pretty damn good on them, right."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

"I told Walt and Roy to give you some space while they were there. They were pretty easygoing about it. Am I right in thinking there's some history there?"

"You could say that," Dean said. "They killed me and Sam once."

"Killed you? Huh. How did that work?"

"It's a long story," Dean said. "How are things going with you guys?"

"They're good. Frank thinks he's getting somewhere with some of the Roman activities, seeing a pattern there. You want to talk to him? I'm at the boat right now. Hang on."

"No, Garth! Wait!" he said quickly, but it was too late. There was the sound of the phone changing hands and then Frank's voice came on the line sounding even pissier than usual.

"Dean Winchester. I wondered when you'd be in touch. Are you calling to offer condolences on the end of my life as I knew it?"

"No, I'm calling to check in on the whole saving-the-world situation," Dean said.

"Well that's perfect. You don't offer me anything. Did you hear how close I was to becoming a Big Mouth buffet?"

"I heard."

"Then where are you and Sam? Portland, right? Not here, helping us save the world. It's because of you that I got dragged into this thing. You wanted those damn numbers investigated, and I did it. That should have been it for me, I did my bit, but now I'm living in hiding on this squalid boat with only this psychotic infant for company."

The word psychotic made Dean's ire rise. "Screw that, Frank! You're in this till the end whether you like it or not. You're a part of it now, it's your fight, too. Not because of me and Sam, but because you're human and the world is yours as much as it's ours. Don't pretend you're fighting for anyone but yourself in this. And Garth is doing you a favor letting you stay, so treat him with a little respect."

"Thanks for the advice, Fudgepop, I'll give it some thought."

Dean heard Garth shout, "Frank, no!" before there was a crash and the line crackled. Dean heard echoing footsteps and then Garth said in a scratchy voice, "You still there, Dean?"

"I'm here."

"Oh, good. I'm going to have to call you back. Frank has smashed my phone. Can you hang up for me? I don't have a screen as much as shards of glass now." For someone that just had his phone busted, Garth sounded remarkably composed about what was going on.

"Got it," Dean said. "Thanks, Garth, and I'm sorry for poking the dragon."

"It's not a problem. See ya."

Dean ended the call and tucked his phone back in his pocket. He tried to calm himself but he was aggravated. Frank had pissed him off more with his comment about Garth than with his offloading about his part in the job. That he guessed he should have expected, but Frank being a dick about Garth, using psychosis as an insult, made Dean want to punch him.

His phone buzzed again, but he didn't bother to answer it as he was on Alfie's street now, and if it was Garth he'd catch him later.

He pulled onto the drive and reached across for the paper bag before climbing out and walking up the path to the door. It opened before he got there, and Elsie was revealed. Dean's heart sank at the look on her face. "Sam?" he asked.

She nodded. "He's had another seizure."

Dean rushed past her into the living room. Sam was sitting on the armchair. His eyes were distant, and Alfie was standing beside him with his hand on Sam's shoulder, saying his name softly.

"Sammy? Dean said, dropping the bottle down on the couch and squatting in front of him. "You okay?" He wasn't sure if Sam was gone or just in shock from what had happened to him. He touched Sam's hand and said, "I'm here man."

"We did call," Alfie said. "Elsie did. Your line was busy though."

Dean cursed quietly. He should have waited until he was back to make the call. He should have been with Sam.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He was with me while I was painting," Elsie said. "We were just talking when it started. He knocked his head."

Dean turned worried eyes on Alfie. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It was just a bump. I examined him and found nothing worrying."

"We have to stop this," Dean said. "It's getting worse. The meds aren't working."

"Yes," Alfie agreed. "I will speak to Katherine. We will find a solution for this."

Sam drew a deep breath and blinked quickly. "Dean?"

"I'm here," Dean said, squeezing his hand. "How are you feeling?"

Sam shook his head dolefully. "It happened again."

"I know," Dean said.

Sam looked into his eyes and Dean saw they were haunted. "I don't like this, Dean."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, his heart aching.

"Can't we make it stop?"

"We're going to talk to the doctor and maybe try some new meds."

"Can't Cas do something?" he asked.

Dean closed his eyes. He guessed he should have expected a question about Castiel at some point, as he was the obvious answer to Sam's problem.

"He's not here right now," Dean said.

"Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure." It wasn't a lie exactly. None of them knew where angels went when they died.

Sam's face fell into lines of sadness. "I'm scared," he said.

So was Dean, but he couldn't admit that to Sam. He had to be strong to reassure him. "I'll take care of you," he said. "You can do this. You've dealt with worse before."

Sam frowned. "I have?"

"Yeah, Sammy, you have. You're strong, a hero. You can get through this, too, with me."

He hoped for a sign of agreement in Sam, some show of confidence in Dean's support maybe. He didn't get it.

"I'm scared," Sam said again.

Dean pushed Sam's sweaty hair out of his face and said, "I'm going to take care of you."

Though he would fight for Sam with his last breath, he still knew it might not be a promise he could keep.

So… Poor Sam. He's really going through it. As is Dean. I loved having my chance to write Frank. He's so much fun. I'm hoping I did his character justice.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx