Summary:  Dean always thought of himself as ‘slightly stupid’ just smart enough to get the job done, just dumb enough to have to work at it.
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

Dean stared out the hospital room window, watching as the dark clouds rolled across the sun, obscuring it from view. He turned back to the TV, watching with little interest, a rerun of X files. He looked down at his watch, noting the time, 10:30 a.m., hoping it would not rain before Tom Baldwin arrived. Dean had not yet had a conversation with his brother about their planned excursion to pick up the car, the guns, and burn the Chupacabra. He wasn’t sure Sam even realized there was second Chupacabra out there; he had been so out of it, and now, the news did not seem very important to Dean. Sam was sick, stuck in the hospital, recovering from his injuries; Dean knew, providing Sammy with too many facts, would only serve to agitate him, giving him cause to worry. Giving Sam grief, on top his other injuries, was not something Dean wanted to do. The facts reviewed in his mind, for the twentieth time since yesterday, Dean decided, silently; he would keep the second Chupcabara to himself.

He looked at his sleeping brother and pushed his hands into his pockets, pulling out what little cash they had left. Damn it. There funds were just about depleted and Sam needed to stay put for at least two, maybe three weeks. What to do, what to do. He would just have to find a bar, play some pool, hustle some locals. Maybe tonight, if Sam was doing okay. He noticed his little brother stirring and quickly stuffed the money back in his pockets. One less worry Sam needed right now.

“Sammy.” Dean shut off the T.V. as his brother began waking from his medicated slumber.

Sam shuffled in the bed, eyes opening and gazing at his older brother. His IV had been removed earlier; the drainage bag from his chest wound had been taken out. His body felt like a big fuzzy cloud, no pain, just a cottony feeling from head to toe. Today was just a lazy recovery day, making sure he was not having any problems before he was released tomorrow morning. He had begged Dean to help him escape earlier, but Dean did not cooperate with his little plot, so he was stuck here. He felt extremely tired though, and as much as he did not want to, he fought the urge to doze in and out of sleep. What the hell are they giving me?

“Yea.” Sam sighed, voice sounding groggy; he turned his face slowly toward his brother.

“I’m going to leave you here a little while this afternoon, I’m going with Tom Baldwin, back out to Highway 180, get the Impala, our guns, and burn that damn Chupacabra.”

“You are?” Sam’s eyes opened wider as he looked at Dean.

“Yea, you’ll be okay here, while I’m gone, right?”

“Sure…sure.” Sam nuzzled deeper into the pillow, eyelashes fluttering over his lids.

“Okay then, if you wake up, and I’m not here, that’s where I’m gone. Okay? Sam, did you hear me?”

“MMMM…HMMMM.” Sam tried to stay awake, he really did, but his body would not respond to his request; once again he succumbed to the comforting nothingness of medicated sleep, Dean’s voice fading into the empty void.

Tom Baldwin’s Dodge truck breezed down Highway 180 toward his property, windows rolled up, heat radiating out of the vents, keeping the chill at bay. It was warmer today, the sun hiding behind the dark, pending rain clouds. He had picked Dean Winchester up just after lunch, after his little brother had eaten and had his dose of pain medication. He did not think that Sam even knew they had left, his drugs pretty much keeping him out of it. Tom had taken the afternoon off, one of the many perks of being manager, and sole owner, of the only hardware store in Temple.

Dean had reluctantly left his little brother sleeping in the hospital room, not wanting to wake him up to tell him he was leaving. He was hoping that Sam would sleep the entire afternoon away, and he would be back, in his sturdy plastic chair, before his brother woke up again.

The truck rumbled into the grass, right up next to the Impala and Dean’s heart fluttered. Thank god, my girls okay. Tom let out a little chuckle as he saw the expression on the younger man’s face.

“Told you the car would be okay”.

He shut the engine down on the truck, as he observed Dean bound out of the cab, little regard for his bum leg, practically running to the driver’s door, opening it, and gazing inside. A smile brimming its way to his lips, Dean looked over at Tom, who had made his way to stand beside him.

“Car’s pretty important? Huh?” Tom smirked.

“Yeah.” Dean’s head bobbed up and down happily. “My Dad gave it to me.”

“Great car.” Tom acknowledged, smirk turning into a large grin.

Dean slammed the car door shut, his own smile wide on his lips. He pulled his handgun out of the back of his jeans, checking the chamber, and returned it to its resting place. Tom pulled the shotgun he was carrying up closer to his chest as he nodded toward the woods.

“Tree stand’s that way.”

They walked silently through the thickets, bush, and trees toward the metal tree stand, eyes pealing out over the field beside it. The aroma grew as they went, the smell of a dead animal weaving in the air.

“Gees, I didn’t think that smell could get any worse.” Tom snarled.

“You were obviously wrong about that one.” Dean pulled his hand up to pinch his nostrils closed, taking air in through his mouth.

Their eyes landed, at the same time, on the large creature in the grass; blood pooled around it on the ground, flies buzzing above it in mad circles, maggots crawling on the furry hide. Dean’s face contorted up, hand moving from his nose to his mouth in one quick motion, as his gag reflex came into play. He glowered at the black beady eyes, the memory of the last time he saw this Chupacabra’s ugly mug rushing to his brain. Ugly son of bitch hurt my brother.

“God, lets torch this thing, I can’t take the smell, or the sight of it.” Dean chocked out.

He grabbed the small kerosene container from his pocket and began squirting the large animal’s remains down. Once done, he grabbed his matches, and with one swift motion, the stick sizzled as he dropped it to the mess below them. The Chupacabra went up in flames, the smell, although they did not think possible, grew steadily worse as the flames licked the body, the smoke carried on the breeze, up into the atmosphere.

Dean watched as the flames engrossed the Chupacabra. Tom walked away, eyes tearing up from the smoke, toward the partial hide of a deer lying not five feet away.

“Looks like the other one ate the deer, or most of it.”

Dean pulled his watering eyes from the flames to look over at the deer carcass.

“Yea, I was hoping it would lure the first one out, it did, but then the entire hunt became a gigantic mess”.

Dean shook his head, dropping it to his chest.

“I am sure it was not your fault your brother got hurt.” Tom stepped to Dean’s side and laid his hand on his shoulder. Dean’s eyes glimmered; he hoped Tom thought it was from the smoke, as he blinked to control his emotions.

“Yea, yea it was. If I had not been so stupid, had my head in the game; Sammy would not have gotten hurt.”

“I doubt that very much. This creature was big, and strong. Hell, I was scared of it myself.” Tom released Dean’s arm and shuffled his large boot on the ground.

Dean let out a little chuckle. The thought of this big, 240 pound, 6 foot man being afraid of anything made him laugh. He looked up at Tom, and they both let out a hearty cackle. Dean quickly wiped the tears away with his sleeve, hoping that Tom had not noticed. Tom turned his head away as he laughed, giving Dean back his dignity, not wanting to show recognition of the tears he so hastily swiped away.

Dean shuffled, cast making his movements awkward, toward Sam’s gun lying on the ground; reaching down, he picked it, hugging it tightly to his chest. The images of Sammy, lying on the ground, struggling to breathe, assaulted his mind.

“He killed it, you know.” Dean let out in one quick breath. “I only wounded it, thought I had shot it, then, I poked it with my rifle. What an idiot.”

Tom bent down to retrieve the other shotgun in the dirt. “Yea, that was slightly stupid.” Once again their eyes met, and laughter overcame them. Boy, Tom was just the best. Guilt released from Dean’s body as he gave in to the humor of the entire situation.

They stood in silence for a long time, both watching as the flames flickered and danced over the mammoth creature, eventually sizzling and dying out. They both scooped dirt in their hands, flinging on top of the vanishing embers.

“Well.” Tom stood, leering eyes around the perimeter. “I was hoping the other one would show up, and we could kill it.”

“Me too.” Dean’s eyes twisted around, taking in their surroundings. He glanced down at his watch. “I need to get back to my brother. Guess we will have to come looking for the second one. You up for that?”

“Sure, just tell me when”. Tom lips curled up in a smile as he looked at Dean.

“Sam is out of the hospital tomorrow, but I need to take care of him, so we will be at the motel. You can reach us the….”

Tom’s steady tone cut him off mid sentence. “Motel my ass, you get your stuff together, come stay with me. You know Sam would be more comfortable at my place.”

Tom began his steady gait back toward the truck, eyes watching cautiously around them. Dean struggled to keep up with his broken ankle, but was determined to stay in sync with Tom’s steps.

“We can’t, I wouldn’t want to impose”. Dean stammered out, hand gripping his thigh attempting to give his left ankle some support, sweat beading up on his forehead.

“Bull shit, I said you stay with me. I mean it; it’s not up for discussion”. Tom never looked at Dean, just continued his path to the truck. Dean’s chest hitched. Damn this guy reminded him so much of his Dad.

“If you’re sure”. Dean offered as he veered off toward his car.

They both approached the truck and Impala. Dean paused at the driver’s door, looking over at Tom.

“I said; it’s not up for discussion. Get your shit together, I’ll come by the hospital in the morning; you can follow me to my house.”

“Yes sir”. Dean whispered as he opened the Impala door and shifted down to the seat. I think that was a direct order.

A large smile overtook Dean’s face. He rived up the engine, throwing the Impala into gear, tires squealing, gravel flying, following Tom Baldwin’s truck onto the highway, back to Temple, the hospital, and his little brother.

Sam struggled to pull open his heavy eyelids; his brain felt all jumbled, fuzzy. He assumed the medication they were giving him was pretty strong, because he couldn’t get a clear thought in his head. His lashes flickered over his weary eyes; he stared around the hospital room, desperately trying to find a focal point to ground him to the waking world. Where was Dean?

It was late afternoon; the sun’s hazy rays slowly hiding behind the treetops; he fixed his eyes through the window, squinting, focusing. He vaguely remembered his brother telling him something about not being here when he woke up. Dean saying something about Tom Baldwin, the Impala, and a Chupacabra; he wasn’t sure what, but he did remember hearing something like that. He was alone, that much he had figured out.

He struggled to sit up higher up on the pillows, pushing weakly with his hands on the mattress, the pain radiating with the motion, across his stomach and up through his chest. Slumping weakly back down to the bed, his breath came out in one, long, muffled moan. It hurt to breath, it hurt to move. The pain grew slowly, so intense, he grasped his hands tightly around the sheet, twisting it under his fingers. He needed to be stronger, he willed himself to ‘suck it up’, to move past the pain. Dean would suck it up.

The sudden wave of nausea assaulted him, bile rising up in the back of his throat, hovering with a tingle, just around his tonsils, sitting there, waiting. He swallowed convulsively; pulling one hand up to his lips, willing the feeling away. His vision waved as he looked for the call button; he pushed it, he needed someone to come help him. Please somebody come, sick. He could feel his hands shaking, the sweat beading up on his brow. Suddenly, the tears welled up in his eyes, blurring what vision he had. No one was coming. He laid his exhausted head back to the pillow, willing the pain away, willing himself not to be sick, not to cry, blinking back hot tears. He pushed the call button again, his weak hands trembling as he did so. His breathe coming out in a weak sigh. He felt so bad. Someone please.

Dean thudded down the hospital corridor, cast thumping loudly on the linoleum; a Styrofoam cup balanced in one hand, lid tightly applied, takeout bag in the other. He could not believe it, he had to put a top on his coffee; life is such a bitch sometimes, he muttered to himself. He never put a lid on his coffee, that was a Sam thing. He frowned, the constant teetering and tottering of his caste ankle causing the coffee to slosh around in the cup. So here he was, going to drink coffee through hole, in a lid, just like a girl. This broken ankle thingy really sucked.

He pushed the door open to Sam’s room, eyes looking intently at the bed. He hesitated momentarily; his brother did not look so good; he quickened his step, leg jarring as he made his way to his brother. He sat the bag and coffee gingerly down on the tray table and reached his hand out to Sam’s forehead, brushing his damp bangs from his face.

“Sammy”, he whispered. Thumb rubbing on Sam’s temple. “You okay little brother?” Concern gripped at Dean’s gut.

Sam opened his eyes, staring up at his big brother, distress in his features. He was pale against the white sheets, tears brimming in his eyes; breathe heaving out in little gasps, visibly shaking. Thank God, Dean was here. It would be okay now.

“S…Sick”, Sam gagged, as the bile rose up in his throat. He really felt sick.

Dean recognized the signs of a sick Sammy, he had seen this all his life; with one swift motion, he grabbed the plastic pan from the table and laid it under Sam’s chin, his brother’s sickness rolling out of him, in one big wave. Dean grimaced, at the motion, how much that probably hurt; throwing up, with stitches holding you together. He placed his hand back on Sam’s forehead, comforting him as he leaned back on the pillows.

“Okay Sam, you’re okay. Shhhhh”.

Sam blinked slowly, looking at Dean, small tears rolling down his face.

“Sam, are you in pain?” Dean’s concerned eyes looked at him, face contorting up in a grim look.

“I…I just…feel bad”. Sam’s voice was low, Dean leaning in to hear his response. This was new, Sam never complained about how he felt, he was a ‘suck it up’ kind of guy.

“When was the last time someone was in here, to check on you, give you some meds?” Dean’s voice whispered softly, spilling over with worry; he looked inquisitively at Sam, pouring a small sip of water in a cup, he held it to Sam’s lips, his brothers shaky hands attempting to grasp a hold of it, he swallowed the cool liquid.

Sam’s head fell to the pillow, eyes slowly closing, his cheek leaning into Dean’s arm. Okay, this was bad, Sam was obviously very sick. Dean’s hand slowly moved through his little brother’s hair.

“Sam, answer me.” Dean bent in closer to his brother’s face.

“Do...Don’t re...mem...ber. I couldn’t get any...one to co…come. I been pressing...the...the button.”

At that exact moment, Dean’s heart plummeted. He did not see his 23 year old brother looking back at him; but his baby brother, gazing up at him, confusion in his features, paleness on his face, and hurt radiating from his eyes.

“What?” Dean was pissed, the rage flowing like ice water in his veins.

He grabbed the call button with his other hand, pushing and holding the button down. Son of a bitch. I told them when I left, Sam would be alone. I will hold this damn button down, till someone gets there ass in here. He looked back down into Sam’s face, noticing the pain etched there, weak eyes, his frailness against the bed sheets.

“Shhhh, Its okay, Sammy. I gotcha.”

The door to Sam’s room swung open with a thud, a matronly nurse stomping into the room.

“Please remove your hand from the call button”, she demanded.

Screw that. Dean’s piercing green eyes looked up at the nurse, no words necessary, she seemed to get the message. She glanced up at Sam, and then grabbed up his chart, hurriedly reviewing it.

“He should have had some pain meds an hour and ahalf ago? Did anyone come in here?” She seemed very concerned, exasperation in her voice.

“Well, obviously not, because my brother is in pain, was by himself all afternoon, and he’s throwing up. Where the hell was everyone?” Dean’s voice rose with each word, left eye twitching harshly at the nurse. His hand still moved unconsciously, silently through Sam’s bangs, a soothing motion, over and over.

“I’ll take care of it right now!” She bounded out of the room, returning within mere seconds, syringe in hand. She stepped hastily up to Sam’s arm, and gently inserted the needle, pushing it lightly, the liquid seeping into Sam’s vein.

Dean watched, anger simmering just under the surface, as the nurse gave his brother the injection. Sam’s face easing up as the medication reached his body. He let out a little gasp of air as the tension in his pain filled chest receded. Sam’s eyes blinked slowly up at Dean. Thank you.

“I am so sorry; this is for pain and nausea. Press the button, if you need anything.

“Lot of good that did us before!” Dean spat out in an angry tone, fingers still gently comforting his little brother.

“Rest assured; I will bring this up to my nursing students. Again, I am so sorry.” She hastily cleaned up the mess, and scurried to get out of the room, away from Dean’s livid, twitching, face.

Sam calmed down slowly, his breath evening out, his eyes fluttering at Dean, looking so grateful to his big brother. His head still leaned into Dean’s arm; his steady hand; motion lulling him to sleep. Dean felt his brother’s body slump into unawareness. He pulled the blanket up under his chin, flattening it out, tucking it in. He could ‘kick his own ass’ for leaving his baby brother alone. Stupid move, stupid, stupid, stupid. But then again, how was he to know the nurses were worthless pieces of crap. There would be no more leaving Sammy alone, not on his watch.

Dean glanced at his watch; it was 6:30 a.m. Sam had a good night; Dean had made sure of that. He had sat his watch, and woke himself up every two hours to check on his brother; make sure he was comfortable, his medication was given. Dean was more than ready to blow this Popsicle stand, and was anxious for the doctor to come in, give him an update of Sam’s condition, his prescriptions, and then they were out of here. He knew Tom Baldwin would be coming sometime before ten; intent on taking them back to his house so Sam could recover. Dean was happy about that, Tom was a good guy, and they were broke. A little fact Sam did not need to know.

Dean was also worried; he had not had time to watch the news since yesterday, he had purposely ignored the news casts; not wanting Sam to find out about the second Chupcabra. Another fact Sammy did not need to know, right now. If sheltering his brother from particulars would help him to recover, than Dean was fine with that fact. He would tell Sam, all about it, when he was strong enough to deal with it.

As Sam began to wake from his drug induced sleep, the first thing he saw was Dean with a big goofy grin on his face, castled leg propped up on the rails of Sam’s bed.

“Hey, kiddo, you feeling better today?” Dean’s eyes scrunching up questioningly.

“Yeah, I feel better.” Sam nodded his head at his brother.

Sam vaguely remembered they changed his medication, to pills, around four in the morning. Now, his mind was clearer, and he was glad, he could suck up the pain; get his thoughts back in focus, and get the heck out of this stupid hospital.

Dean pulled his arms up over his head, stretching, yawning, eyes watching as breakfast was sat on the rolling table by a cute nurse; his lips forming a wicked grin. Wow, she’s hot! He watched her reaching to take Sam’s blood pressure and check his temperature, body bending ever so slightly in front of Dean.

“Morning.” He smiled sweetly, eyes twinkling at the ‘pretty little thing’ He felt a sudden wave of relief flood through him, as he saw Sam, out of the corner of his eye, giving him the patented ‘Sammy’ eye roll. Ah, Sam was feeling a lot better today! This one motion made Dean’s smile even brighter.

The nurse handed Sam a little paper cup with his medication in it.

“Take these now, before you eat”. She smiled. Sam reached out a shaky hand and took the cup, swallowed the pills, gulping them down with the orange juice.

“Thank you” he whispered, shy eyes looking hastily, away from the nurse, to his tray of food. The nurse smiled at him, then glanced to Dean and sashayed out of the room.

Sam grabbed up the fork, making a big attempt to eat his breakfast, but the nausea in his stomach, did not want to cooperate. He settled on his toast, pushing his plate with greasy eggs and bacon toward his brother’s eager hands.

“You eat it, I just want the toast.” Sam nodded.

“You sure?” Dean asked, “You need to eat.”

Seeing Sam’s pale face, Dean decided it was probably best that he just ate the toast. He hungrily grabbed up the fork and dug into the plate of food, his hand grabbing the coffee, gulping it down greedily.

“Humph” Sam nodded his head, grin sitting on his lips. “It’s okay; I’ll just eat the toast.”

Once breakfast was finished, Sam and Dean sat waiting patiently. The doctor should be coming anytime, to release Sam; give him instructions and prescriptions.

“Can’t we just skip all this, and get out of here?” Sam sheepishly looked at his brother.

“Nope.” Dean smirked.

“Why not Dean? We do that every time you are in the hospital, we barely even get you fixed up, and then we leave.” Sam whined, giving Dean his best ‘puppy dog face’.

“That’s different.” Dean eyebrows raised and a small grin made its way across his lips. So not working this time, little brother.

“No it’s not!” Sam’s voice sniveled as he dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his weary eyes; he was way too tired to argue with his brother; the pull of sleep nagging at his body. God, Dean was a piece of work!

The door swung open with a loud bang thudding against the wall. Debra Bruno waltzed her way into the room, her niece dragging along behind her. Sam’s eyes flew open, the noise stirring him from his peaceful doze; the abrupt motion causing a sharp pain across his torso. He grimaced, pulling his right hand to his chest. He turned bleary eyes to the doorway. Holy crap, what the hell was she doing here? Was he having a nightmare? He shook his head, to clear the fuzziness, and then his mouth fell open with a little gasp.

Dean stood quickly, dropping the T.V. remote with a clatter to the floor. Who the hell was making all this racket, his brother was sleeping! He cast a concerned glance at Sammy, then at the two intruders in the room. Hey, sick person here!

“You okay Sammy?” Dean’s hand came down, patting his brother’s leg under the covers.

Dean’s apprehensive face fell, as he looked at his little brother. Sam’s eyes were wide, a stunned expression; fear mixed with pain. Sam’s forefinger, on his left-hand, still lay on the sheets, but it lifted slightly, pointing toward the two new additions to his hospital room.

“Well, Sam, looks like you have visitors”. Dean’s lips curled up at the edges as he extended his hand to welcome the hot little waitress, and her overly abundant aunt into the room. The young girl slid toward Dean, lips pursed up into a flirty smile.

“How ya doing, honey?” Debra Bruno nodded her extremely made up face at Dean, glancing down at his cast, continuing to shuffle to the side of the bed.

How’s our Sammy?” She stated, hand falling to Sam’s pointing finger, pulling his hand to her large chest, clutching it between both her hands.

Our Sammy, what the hell? Dean’s lips turned into a questioning look, then seeing the hot number sliding up next to him, his mind wondered, giving the little lady a once over with is eyes.

“I…I’m f…f….fine.” Sam stammered out, eyes quickly diverting to his brother, as he attempted to pull his fingers from her prying grasp.

Dean recognized the distress on his little brother’s face, while this was funny; at the moment, he was not sure Sammy was up for all this drama. He stepped quickly from the curvy young girl to her heavy set aunt, placing his arm around her shoulders; encouraging her to move away from the bed, untangling her fingers from Sam’s. She struggled to remain intertwined with Sam; Dean grasped her by the wrist, and gave her hand a little yank. Sam’s eyes wide, anxious ovals on his pale face.

“Tom Baldwin told me all about what happened. I am so sorry that you got hurt.” Debra attempted to shimmy her body out of Dean’s grasp, and was surprised when his hug only tightened around her”. She glanced up in his hazel eyes. Well, well, well, isn’t he just the cutest thing.

“Well, wasn’t that just nice of Tom. He is just such a swell guy.” Dean glanced at Sam with his own eyes rolling.

“You know I manage the bar “Bum’s Tavern, you should come by and see me, cutie.”

Her mascara heavy lashes batting at Dean. She scrunched in closer to his body, obviously enjoying his arm around her, licking her bright red lips.

“What the fu…”Dean’s head turned toward his brother, mouth moving, no sounds coming out.

Sam’s face started to relax, tension leaving his eyes, humor at his brother starting to make him laugh.

Dean scooted away from the busty woman, his hand hovering down to her back; he gave her a little nudge toward the door.

“Yes”, her niece said, eyes flashing at Dean “Do come by the bar again.” She smiled as she sauntered towards the door, grabbing her Aunt’s elbow as she went by.

“We really appreciate you both coming by, and I will make sure Tom Baldwin here’s all about it”. Dean grinned as they both went out the door. Yeah, Tom will be hearing about this alright.

“Come on Aunt Debra, we need to get to work. I hope you feel better, Sam.” As she led her Aunt out the door, the brothers heard her the young waitress say, “Auntie Debra, you can’t flirt with the one I like, I told you that already”, her voice scolding.

Dean turned as he heard Sam’s laughter, the best noise he had heard in days, coming out of him in a mass of giggles. He looked at Sammy, whose arms were both gripped around his middle, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Sammy, you okay?” Dean shuffled quickly back to his side, only to have Sam wave him off with his hand.

“That…was…so…freak’n…funny”. Sam stammered out, eyes scrunched up in pain, as the laughter lulled back down. Dean’s eyes lit up, his own laughter coming out in a hearty burst, grinning acutely at his little brother.

“Don’t…don’t make…me laugh. Hurts…” Sam’s eyes begged, giggling heartily again, squeezing himself tighter.

“I’m sorry, Sam…” Dean laughed harder, hands coming down to his brothers arms, gripping him, attempting to help steady him, Sam’s body shaking uncontrollably with every little giggle.

They both giggled and laughed until Sam could take it no more, and slumped back down into the mattress, eyes strained from the pain that was radiating across his torso, he slowly quieted. Dean released his hold on his brother, allowing him to relax back into the bed; though hurting, smile still displayed across his lips.

Tom Baldwin pulled his truck into the hospital parking lot, shutting down the engine; his eyes caught the motion of the two women moving across the parking lot.

“Oh shit”, he muttered. He knew he should not have told them about Sam and Dean, they seemed way too curious, when they asked.

He sat for a moment, waiting for them to squeeze into their Volkswagen and pull out of the parking lot. He opened his door, head shaking in a humorous motion, as he made his way to through the hospital doors. He found them both very funny, the little sexy young one, always wanting attention; the older flamboyant one, always getting it.

He grinned to himself as he made his way to room 201, hoping that Sam was doing better, and could blow this joint.

The hospital door swung open, the doctor making his way into Sam’s room, glancing around at Dean, as he shuffled to the bedside.

“How are you feeling today?” His eyes locked apprehensively on Sam.

“Much better, ready to get out of here.” Sam grinned up at the doctor, hoping to impress him.

Dean looked uncertainly at his little brother. Not sure that’s the truth.

“Well, I think it is safe to let you go, there are a few precautions.” He nodded at Sam, lips forming a little firm line on his face.

“Take it easy and rest; give your body time to heal. If you experience any excessive pain, fever, or trouble breathing, come to the hospital. Most importantly, do the breathing treatments at least every four hours; keep it up for the next week, we need to strengthen that lung.”

The doctor eyed Sam, who shrugged his shoulders, grinning. I don’t feel that bad.

“I am giving you a prescription for pain; take two pills, every four hours.” He eyed Dean, “The pain pills will make him a foggy, out of sorts, but, it is a necessary side affect. He needs the pain medication.” Dean’s head nodded, he understood.

The doctor looked back at Sam, “If you are consistent with your dosage, you will suffer less painful symptoms. Remember to apply the ointment I prescribed to your stitches, nightly. They will slowly dissolve”.

He looked directly at Dean again. “No heavy lifting, not over two pounds. Call my office, for a one week check, for x-rays, to see how the lung is healing. My office number is on the release papers.”

Sam let out a little sigh, left hand running through his long hair. Why does he keep looking at Dean? Gees, he’s acting like I’m five years old.

Dean reached out and grabbed the prescription from the doctor’s fingers, smile wavering on his lips. “Thank you.”

Tom Baldwin nodded, the doctor walking past him, as a nurse rolled a wheelchair into Sam Winchester’s room. He shifted past the doctor, eyes resting on Sam, struggling into his blue jeans and tee shirt, body swaying where he stood. Dean grabbed his elbow, to steady him on his feet.

“Hey guys”. Tom spoke as he watched the older brother assist the younger one with his clothes.

Sam pulled inquisitive eyes up to Tom, then back to Dean.

“What’s he doing here?”

“I was going to tell you, I just haven’t had a chance yet. Tom’s offered us a place to stay, for you to recuperate”. Dean smiled at Tom as he spoke. Since, we are totally broke.

“What? Why?” Sam eyes looked confusedly at Dean, then back to Tom.

“Sam…Tom is just trying to help, he knew you needed a place to recover, rest up. I just thought…”

Sam jerked his arm from his brother’s grasp as he moved his slow body to the chair, dropping heavy limbs in the hard plastic.

Dean watched his brother, confusion in his eyes. Gees, what was this, why was Sam so upset?

“Tom, can we have a minute here?” Dean smiled at Tom, whose own eyes squinted up questioningly at Dean.

“Sure, I’ll be across the hall, having some of that wonderful waiting room coffee”.

Tom shuffled out of the room, as Dean squatted down in front of his brother, leaning in to the chair; cast resting on the floor, at an awkward angel.

“Sam, what’s the matter. Tom’s offered us a place to stay, no strings; I think it’s a good idea.”

Sam rested his weary head on his hand, elbow propped up on the chair.

“I just, I just thought it would be you and me. I thought we could get back on the road. Sides, I don’t know this guy”. Sam whispered.

“Sam, I know him. He helped me get you out of the woods, to the hospital.”

“I D…Don’t re...remember?” Sam’s eyes glossed over has he looked at his older brother.

“Sam, he saved your life. If he had…hadn’t been there; I don’t know what we would have done.”

Sam raised his eyes to meet his brothers. Tom, Tom, Tom. Gee why is this guy so great? “I just …I’m sorry; I guess I was just surprised. I just thought, I could rest in the Impala.”

Dean brought his hand up to rest on his brother’s knee, squeezing it lightly, his own body balancing precariously, the cast making it hard to hold his stance.

“Sam, we aren’t doing that. You need to get to feeling better. It will be okay, Sam, I promise”. Dean looked in his brother’s eyes, recognizing the confused medicated look on his face. Sam lips quirked up in a frown, but his head nodded in a small yes motion.

Dean rose slowly to a standing position, limping across the hall to where Tom Baldwin stood, black coffee steaming out of his cup.

“Sorry, I should have told him. He was just surprised; the meds are making him a little out of it”. Dean smiled, Tom handing him the cup of coffee as he reached for another cup.

“It’s okay; he’s been through a lot.”

They both shuffled back to the hospital room, collecting Sam and putting him in the wheelchair, his prescriptions and release papers lying in his lap.

Rolling out of the hospital, Sam’s eyes wondered from his brother, who was pushing the wheelchair, to Tom, walking silently next to them. Sam’s mind was mulling over the situation, his medicated thoughts jumbled around in his brain. Who is Tom Baldwin and why has his brother, his only family, taking such a liking to him?

Sam had fallen asleep by the time the Impala pulled into the driveway, head leaning lazily against the passenger window. Dean followed closely behind the truck, noticing that Tom lived just outside of town. Dean glanced around, taking in their surroundings. This looks safe enough. The small house was in dire need of some repairs and paint, the yard was not well manicured, and a mongrel dog was tied to a tree. He grinned, watching as the dog barked and jumped happily at Tom Baldwin, who patted it on the head as he went toward the front door. Dean considered Tom’s home to be in a bit of disarray, but he didn’t care, as long as his brother had a place to rest up, and it was free; well, what more did they need?

“Sammy”, Dean moved his hand over to his little brothers arm, nudging him gently.

“Hmmm”, Sammy whispered, as his eyes fluttered open, sleepily looking at Dean.

“Let’s get you inside”. Dean opened the driver’s door and slid out of the car, stepping promptly to the passenger door. Dean slowly opened the door, Sam still leaning into to, his hand coming to rest on Sam’s arm, keeping him from a quick assent to the ground.

“Come on”, his hands turning Sam in the set, his feet thudding to the ground. Sam smiled weakly up at his brother, as Dean leaned down and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him to a standing position.

“I …got it. “ Sam’s voice stammered out as he pushed Dean’s arm away. Dean stood stock still, protectively at his little brother side.

“Sure you do.” Dean waited, watching Sam, who made a feeble attempt to move away from the car, swaying slightly, then grabbing Dean’s arm.

“It’s okay Sam, I gotcha.”

“Deeeeean, I’m fine”. Sam’s voice whined out, frustrated and confused. Dean struggled with his brother, wanting to let him do it on his own, Sam’s face and body telling him otherwise.

Tom Baldwin observed as Dean helped his brother out of the car, much to the younger Winchester’s protests. These two are interesting, he thought. He keyed the lock in the door, and pushed it open, holding it as Dean led Sam inside. He noticed the care that the older brother used with the younger one; he remembered it from the woods a few days back. It was obvious to Tom; Dean was ‘Dad’ to his younger sibling. He eyed them both, Dean guiding his brother to the couch, lowering him slowly to the cushions. Yes, Tom thought, these two were unique, and he definitely wanted to get to know them better.