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.

Tom Baldwin watched Sam’s eyes close slowly, the lull of sleep drawing him under. He didn’t know what they were giving the youngest Winchester, but he knew it must be pretty strong stuff; he looked totally peaceful, no pain, breathe coming out in an even pitch. Dean had been at Sam’s side since yesterday, talking briefly with him when he woke, comforting him. Tom had stayed till visiting hours were over the previous night, then left; only to return in the morning, Dean in the same position, posting watch on his baby brother.

Tom shuffled on his feet, his hand falling to Dean’s shoulder, whose eyes rested on Sam; ever vigilant and protective. Tom observed that Dean looked totally spent. The bruising on his forehead was dark blue and red, butterfly bandages dotted just under his hairline. Although he denied it vehemently, the doctors said he had a slight concussion, and no wonder, after a six foot flight through the air, ending in a cold hard thud to the ground.

“Dean, you need to get some rest”. Tom gave Dean’s shoulder a light squeeze, eyes laced with concern.

“I don’t want to leave Sammy. I did that before, and I won’t do it again.” He glanced up at Tom.

“Tell you what, you go down to the waiting room; there’s a couch there, I will stay with Sam. I promise you, I will come get you when he wakes up”.

Dean’s eyes fell back to his little brother, concern etched on his face. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to lea…” He brought his shaky hand up to his eyebrows, rubbing lightly across the bruises.

“Dean, I promise. You are no good to Sam when you’re exhausted. You need to rest man.” Tom’s voice once again took on an authoritative tone as his eyes glared at Dean.

Dean drowsily blinked as he pushed off from the chair, giving Tom a weary smile. He walked by Tom slowly heading for the door; stopping at the threshold, eyes glinting from Sam, and back to him.

“You’ll come get me if he wakes up?”

“Yes, I’ll come get you if he wakes up.” Tom nodded his head in agreement.

Dean’s face relaxed; he watched Tom assume his station in the chair as he walked tiredly from the room, feet trudging slowly toward the waiting room.

Twenty four hours later, the doctor decided it was okay to release Sam from the hospital. When he came in, to give them the word; his tone was visibly upset, not only with his patient, but also with his older brother. He glared angrily at Dean as he stated matter of factly, “I would not have released him before, if I had known you would allow him to gallivant around the country side”. His voice rising in a stern tongue lashing, directed solely at Dean.

Dean shuffled under the doctor’s harsh reprimand. He was too tired to deal with this shit right now. His eyes fell to the floor, shoulders shrugging up in an exasperated expression. Sam scrunched up his face at the doctor, his drug fogged mind trying to understand what he was saying. Was his brother in some type of trouble?

“You must follow my instructions”, the doctor gave Sam a defiant stare. “Take the medication; or you will be right back in here…AGAIN…”

Is he rolling his eyes at Sam? Tom shuffled on the balls of his feet, silently watching the doctor.

Sam winced; the doctor’s voice seemed to be full of sarcasm, arrogance, and attitude. “It wasn’t Dean’s fault”, Sam whispered, body slumping further down in the pillow, looking like someone had taken his puppy. The doctor's eyes glared harshly at him; then looked back to Dean.

“It is just stupid to run around two days after surgery, like nothing happened. Do either of you have any sense?”

What the hell? Tom Baldwin thought. Who does this guy think he is?

“Excuse me doc…. but I don’t think either of these men deserve you’re criticism. Maybe, there were circumstances that you are not aware of here”. Tom’s voice was quivering, as he attempted to rein in his wayward anger. “Your opinion, other than medically, is not worth two shakes of a horse’s ass to any of us”.

“Hump” the doctor’s edgy voice stated, he turned and marched from the room, his shiny black shoes clicking hastily on the linoleum floor.

Dean’s eyes squinted over at Tom, a slow smirk curling up on his lips. Sam’s voice let out a slight giggle, grin forming on his face; they watched the doctor exiting the room.

“Whatever dude”. Tom spouted off, as he pushed his hand against the door, making it thud against the hinges behind ‘Dr. Know it All’. Tom’s voice echoed loudly behind him, “And you can kiss my ass”.

His eyes turned swiftly back to Sam and Dean, who were grinning widely. Then he heard Sam giggle, a small simmering sound; that made him turn to look at him. The youngest eyes sparkling with delight. He watched as Dean saw the look on his brother’s face, the amusement that suddenly resided there; and he too laughed uncontrollably. Tom hitched in a breath, and let his own laughter ring out into the room.

The truck pulled promptly up to the hospital curb; Tom Baldwin’s eyes looking closely around the doors, watching for the Winchester’s. He leaned across the seat and pushed open the passenger door as he saw the wheelchair head out through the lobby, coming to a rest next to the truck. Dean leaned down, grabbing Sam’s arm tightly in his fingers; assisting his brother to stand on his wobbly legs and slide into the truck.

“I got it, Dean”. Sam rolled his eyes as he shimmed across the bench seat, to sit next to Tom.

Dean left the wheelchair on the curb, hopping in next to Sam as the truck pulled out into the traffic.

“We need to go burn that Chupacabra”. Dean glanced across the seat, past Sam, to Tom.

“I did it yesterday”. Tom spoke without looking at Dean, eyes watching the road. “But, we do need to go after that ‘fine’ car of yours”.

“Wow, you went back out there and torched the sucker?” Dean queried.

“Yea, being a big boy and all.” Tom snickered.

“Well, you did not seem so confident, before”. Dean grinned.

Sam’s head lolled over to Dean’s shoulder, and he pulled his arm up around the back of the seat, lightly drawing his dozing brother to his chest”. Tom smiled at the unconscious motion, noting to himself that Dean did not even realize he did it.

The truck barreled down the road, out Highway 180 and pulled slowly up next to the Impala. Tom could not help but notice how Dean’s smile growing bigger as the car came into view. Dean shuffled Sam’s head down against the seat as his hand reached for the door, eyes taking a quick look over to Tom.

“Don’t wake him; just follow us in the car”. Tom offered. Dean smiled, nodding a quick yes, he quietly closed the door; letting is brother stay where he was resting.

Sam opened his hazy eyes, looking around as the highway blurred by the window. He pulled up his lanky legs, curling his arms around his body, blinking back the fuzziness. This is not the Impala.

“Dean?” he murmured in a sleepy, medicated voice.

“Sam, it’s okay. Remember, you are in my truck”. Tom’s voice reaching Sam’s ears; he turned his head and looked at him.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He’s behind us, in the Impala”.

“Oh, I remember now”. Sam raised his head up off the bench seat, turning slightly; he could see Dean following closely behind. He turned back in the seat, facing toward Tom, arms still wrapped tightly around his mid section.

“You okay?” Tom eyed him quickly, and then looked back at the road.

“Yeah, Just sore. The pain meds are working fine”. A small smile rolled up on Sam’s lips. “So…How’s the hardware business?”

“Fine”. Tom grinned.

“How do you take off work all the time? Haven’t I seen a lot of you lately?” Sam grinned as he leaned his head against the passenger window, body resting as the truck hummed down the road.

“Well, I own six hardware stores, in three counties; I can take off whenever I want.”

“Oh, neat. I just thought you worked at the one in Temple”. Wonder why Tom lives in a little clapboard house, when he probably has all kinds of money?

Tom snickered as the truck pulled into his driveway, the Impala rumbling right behind. Dean swung his door open and hurriedly stepped up to the passenger door; his hand gripping Sam on the arm.

“D…e…a…n, I got it”. Sam’s voice peaked to a whine.

“Would you like some cheese with that whine, brother?” Dean’s grip tightened, as he helped Sam to a standing position.

Tom laughed loudly, turning his key in the lock and holding the door open for the hunters.

“Tom thanks for letting us crash here for a day or two.” Sam offered as he slowly moved past Tom toward the couch, his brother still holding a vice grip to his arm.

Dean’s eyebrows scrunched up, his eyes giving Tom a disbelieving look. Boy, Sammy had no clue has sick he was. His brother was amazing.

“Not a problem, Sam. You guys can stay as long as you need.”

Tom winked at Dean, as he strolled around Sam, headed for the kitchen.

“Anyone hungry?” he ventured as he moved past Dean, still holding attentively to his brother as he lowered himself to the furniture.

“God, I’m starving to death”. Dean quipped.

Sam’s body finally made it to the cushion, his limbs slowly relaxing into the comfy couch. Dean plopped down in the chair, eyes squinting over at his brother.

“Sam, we are so not done with the ‘what were you doing out in the middle of a field being breakfast for a Chupacabra’ conversation.”

“D…e...a…an”, Sam whined.

Dean twisted the top off of the prescription bottle as he dropped two pills in his palm, thrusting them out to his brother.

“Take the pills. Here, I’ll get you the water. I’m making sure you take them this time.”

“Aw Dean, I don’t need the pills. Come on man.” Sam’s voice was a frustrated tone.

“SAMMY, take the DAMN pills”. A clear voice laminated from the other room. Sam cocked his head, a funny look on his face. Dean grinned at him as he handed him the bottle of water from the table.

“Bossy...just like Dad.” Sam whispered as he grinned at his brother, throwing the pills in his mouth, and gulping down the water.

“I heard that!” A stern voice echoed from the kitchen.

The next few days were a blur to Sam. He slept on the bed, the couch, the chair, his brother; wherever he ended up when the haze of medication hit him. He hated it. He went through the motions of eating, but his mind was so dull with the drugs, he did not recall what he ate. He had conversations with his brother, but he could not recall them. He hated Dean for making him take the pills; and he hated it more because he had no control. Dean was relentless, giving it to him religiously, every fours hours, just like clockwork.

“De...a…n”, Sam slurred, as two more pills were thrust in his face. “Please, I don’t want to take it anymore”. His voice a small murmur, pleading at his older brother.

Tom looked up from his seat to the couch; Sam languishing there; Dean hovering above him, water bottle in hand.

“Sammy, you need it.” Dean’s voice stern as he pushed the pills toward him.

“I’m t…tired of feeling like I’m in a f...fog. Dean…please.” Sam’s face was a mask of innocence, tears forming just under his lashes, owlishly big brown eyes staring at his brother.

“Please” Sam whispered again.

On, please, God, don’t give me that look. Dean shifted on the balls of his feet, he was getting the dreaded 'Sammy look', the one that always melted his heart and got Sam his way, No contest, Game over.

Tom raised his voice in a stern tone, “Sam, take the pills”.

Sam pulled his head up slowly, his innocent eyes resting on Tom’s face. It was at that moment; Tom felt his own defenses melting. What the hell, what happened to all his military training?

Tom looked wide eyed at Dean, clearing his throat. “Dean…ah…let’s give him a break”.

Dean’s lips curled up in a small smile, his own eyes flashing at Tom. He gotcha, didn’t he.

Dean’s hand, pills still in it, fell to his side. “Okay Sammy, but if you look like you are in any pain, or not resting; you are taking the damn pills”.

Sam laid his head back to the couch cushion, mouth releasing a small sigh as he closed his eyes; lips coiling up to a grin.

Dean liked Tom Baldwin, he was so much like John Winchester, it was uncanny. Dean appreciated his attitude about life, about helping others; mostly he appreciated the way he helped his little brother. Although, Tom played at being a big guy, tough and authoritative; he was a gentle soul, just like their Dad, and that what made him very special in Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s looked across the kitchen table at Tom; resting the coffee cup on the table. His eyes watching the motion as Tom cleaned a gun. Dean’s lips pursing up in a smile.

“What the hell you grin’n at boy?” Tom’s voice was harsh as he looked over at Dean.

“Nothing”, Dean pulled his eyes back to his coffee as he brought the cup up to his lips, steam hanging lazily around his nose.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He’s watching T.V., dozing more than watching”.

“Well, he is getting his strength back, that’s a good thing”. Tom nodded, hands clicking gun parts back together, pupils resting on Dean.

“Did you talk to him, about the hunt and how dangerous it was for him to come out there, in the shape he was in?” Tom’s questioning eyes leering across at Dean.

Yea, I think he knows that, he was just worried about me”. Dean offered, leaning back in the chair as he finished off the cup of coffee.

“Well, he needs to be more careful. You need to watch out for him, make sure he doesn’t’ pull a stunt like that again.”

Amazing, that is just what my Dad would say. Dean pushed the chair out and stood to his feet, placing the empty cup in the sink. “I will.”

Dean was restless, this sitting around, lying around was getting old. He knew his brother was better, so maybe, he could suggest they go out for awhile. Hit a bar, have a beer, play some pool. He shuffled to the living room glancing at Sam sitting on the couch, Tom lounging in the chair; four eyes peering in the darkness at the television, old Lucy rerun blaring on the screen.

“Hey, look alive in here”. Dean blurted out as he plopped down next to Sam.

“Whatever dude”, Sam’s hand flopped over against Dean’s stomach in a little light punching motion.

“Let’s get out of here guys? Whatcha say? Go have a beer?” Dean’s eyes shined from Tom to Sam. “You up for it Sammy?”

“Oh god, Yes.” Sam voice giddy with excitement.

“No beer for you”. Tom flatly stated, as he rose to his feet, hands grabbing the truck keys off the counter. “Let’s go”.

They were all three out the door in a clamor of arms and legs, beating a path to the truck parked out front.

The truck engine lulled to a stop as Tom pulled into the parking lot of “Bum’s Tavern”, Dean out the door before the motion stopped.

“Looks like someone really needs a beer”. Sam grinned at Tom as he slid out of the passenger door.

“You sure you up for this, Sam?” Concern etched in Tom’s words as moved up next to Sam, both following behind Dean’s steady gait.

“Yeah.” Sam’s eyes flashed over at Tom. God, he reminded him so much of his Dad it made him ache. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

They shuffled through the bar’s front door, Dean locating a table and watching as his brother and Tom pulled up chairs. Dean’s face was glowing as he took in the sound of ‘Friends in Low Places’ blaring from the jukebox, beer bottles clanking, laughter and good times assaulting his senses. Now this was what life was all about; this and that pretty little waitress, in her “Bum’s Tavern” tee shirt sauntering toward him.

Here we go again. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, waiting, knowing what was coming before he even said it.

‘Holy crap’, Dean mouthed to his brother as his wide eyes looked from the skimpily clad waitress to Tom and then to Sam.

“Hey Dean”, she pressed slightly into his shoulder. What can I get you?” she

drawled out in a deep southern accent.

“Beer’s for Dean and me, Coke for Sam.” Tom’s lips grinned at Debra Bruno’s niece. He had to admit, she was a pretty little thing.

Dean’s eyes glimmered as he watched the swaying motion in her hips as she headed back to the bar.

“What’s her name again?” Dean asked as he leaned across the table at Tom. Sam rolling his eyes again.

“Brandy Bruno” Tom grinned.

“Yea, yea, Brandy…I remember.”

“Oh shit Dean, you don’t either. You were thinking with your little brain last time we were in here.” Sam huffed, and let out a little laugh.

“Still am” Dean snickered, then grinned back up at Brandy as she sat his beer in front of him.

“How you been, Brannnnnndeeee?”

Tom’s shoulders slouched toward Sam, breathe coming out with his words. “He always like this?”

“Oh yea, you ain’t seen nuthin yet.” Sam brought his coke up and clanked it up against Tom’s beer bottle, laughter coming from his lips.

Tom watched as Dean Winchester flirted with Brandy Bruno, his eyes glinting, lips curling up in a little smile. He found it very entertaining watching the older Winchester flirt, drink beer, and play pool. He had a way to make fun look so easy. Sam, on the other hand, was more reserved, quietly observing, watching; obviously the thinker of the two. It was simply astonishing; these two were so alike, it was scary; so different, it was amusing.

Sam chugged down his second coke for the evening as he gazed at his brother playing pool with some local bar regulars. He snickered to himself; Brandy Bruno was hanging all over his brother, slipping back to his side after every beer run she made for the customers. He was hoping the night did not end with a bang; preferring they slide out of the bar later, unnoticed, and with all their faculties in working order. He looked over at Tom, who was keeping a watchful eye on Dean and the other players who were gathered around the pool table to watch.

“He is very entertaining, isn’t he?” Tom yelled into Sam’s ear, eyeing Dean, who was leaning cockily across the pool table, cue pointing at the eight ball, his own eyes shining as he called the pocket.

“Oh yea, I love to just sit and watch”. Sam shouted. He stood and pushed back his chair. “I’m getting another coke; obviously Brandy is a little busy right now.”

Tom grinned seeing Brandy hovering once again around Dean.

Sam shuffled inconspicuously to the bar, observing the crowd growing louder around his brother. Shit Dean, give it a rest. I am so not up for any bar room brawl tonight. He reached the bar, his eyes watching over his shoulder at the excitement around his older brother. Dean impressed everyone with his pool shooting skills, Brandy’s hands grasping and pawing at his midsection. Sam gazed at Tom, who wriggled up his eyebrows in a ‘wow’ expression; Sam shaking his head, he turned to face the bar. His eyes picked up immediately the large hair, mascara drenched eyelashes, and ruby red lips that immediately came right up in his face.

“Hey their precious, how are you feeling?” Debra Bruno winked at Sam; he looked impish eyes at her, mind gradually taking in the entire situation before him.

“I’m fine…ah…Debra. Thanks for coming to see me in the hospital. I am sorry I skipped out on you the other day. I just….I just had to go find my brother.”

“Yea, well, you had me worried sick when I couldn’t find you. You shouldn’t do that to an old girl like me. I was so relieved when Tom called to tell me you were okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam whispered. “Thank you for worrying about me”. Maybe Debra wasn’t so bad after all.

Debra smiled, leaning her ample cleavage over the bar and her hand coming to rest on top of Sam’s. “No problem baby, you should not worry ‘Mama’ like that. I’m just glad you are okay. We can hook up again some other time”. Her eyes glimmered at Sam, her fingers wrapped tightly around his hand.

Sam gave her a wavering glace. “C…c..coke, p…please.” His eyes glimpsed downward, looking at his hand; Debra still grasping it tightly.

“Sure doll”. She released her vice grip on his hand, tapping it lightly with her fingers, a comforting motion, a smile arching over her lips. Was she coming on to him, or was this her idea of mothering?

Debra quickly filled a glass with coke and shoved it into Sam’s hand. “No rest for the weary, I got work to do Hun, see you later”. Maybe she was not so bad after all.

Sam heard the roar of crowd around his brother, hands clapping, voices whooping as he finished off another local, voice exclaiming, “That’ll be one hundred dollars, dude”.

The unhappy local did not want to fork over the funds, his hand raring back to take a punch at Dean; who easily swayed out of the way, letting the guy fall forward to the floor in one big lunge. A large hush fell over the crowd. Tom pushed his chair back, grinding to his feet in a mere moment; Sam sat the coke on the bar and began pushing and nudging his way toward Deans side.

“Excuse me dude, but I beat you fair and square”. Dean offered, his hand reaching out to help the guy up; who now sat flat on his butt, eyes mere slits glaring up at Dean.

“I don’t need your damn hand; I need you to admit you rigged the game”. The angry local pushed himself to a standing position as three of his buddies moved to stand behind him.

“That is so not true…true…dude”. Dean’s voice slurred as his ninth or tenth beer made their presence known, but, he stood his ground, hand flexed out toward the hot tempered loser.

“Pay up.” Dean said as he leaned forward, eyes glinting at the guy.

Sam shuffled in beside his brother, standing toe to toe with him; eyes stone cold staring down the guy and his friends.

“Pay up, Stinky”, Debra Bruno yelled from behind the bar, here voice carrying over the crowd.

“Screw you, Debra.” Stinky’s eyes flashed over the bar at her, then back to Dean.

“Stinky?” Dean chuckled out, as he dropped his hand to his side. “Your name is Stinky?” Dean’s eyes glimmered at Sam as they both attempted to contain their laughter.

Suddenly, Stinky and his friends decided action was in order as they lunged at the Winchesters. Sam took the first blow, a hand making contact with his chin; he swayed, and stumbled backward.

Oh crap, Sam can’t be fighting; he is just now getting better. What the hell was I thinking? Dean swung the pool cue out and around, stepping abruptly in front of his brother. Suddenly, he heard a steady breathe to his left, feeling Tom Baldwin’s presence scoot in beside him.

“Stinky, it ain’t worth it. You’re gonna piss Debra off.” Tom’s eyes wide with knowledge and concern.

What? Dean shrugged up his eyebrows, his hand leaning down, grabbing Sammy by the elbow, pulling him to his feet. Sam curled his arms around his midsection as he swayed into Dean.

Debra Bruno came barreling around the bar, two beer bottles clinched in her hands, arms waving, wild eyes blaring at Stinky and his friends.

“You little shits, get the hell out of my bar, I am so telling your mother’s about this.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, Tom shoulders shook with laughter, and Sam stood stock still, eyes wide with confusion. The three locals all looked large eyed at Debra, and started scurrying toward the exit, legs and arms flying in quick haste to get away. Debra’s arms wind milling, beer bottles swinging toward their faces. The crowd rolled with laughter as the boys ran out the entrance, the door swaying in their wake. Debra stomped back to the bar, ‘Bum’s Tavern’ tee shirt heaving in large gulps of air, large cleavage rising and falling hastily. “Little Shits.” She mumbled.

Dean grinned over at Debra, then at Tom. “I think it’s time to get Sammy back to the house.”

Sam blinked at both men as he wobbled slightly on his feet; Dean’s grip growing tighter with the motion. Tom pulled his keys from his pocket and led the way to the exit. Dean’s cast leg loudly thumping the ground as they moved slowly back to the truck.

The ride back to Tom’s house was silent. Dean’s head lolling against the passenger window, beer buzz causing him to fade. Sam sat in the middle, fingers rubbing at his chin, glaring out the front window. Tom grinned to himself as the truck hummed silently in the midnight air, down the road, toward his house. These two were special. If his son’s hand grown up, not been taken from him as children; they would be just like these two. He smiled.

The sun was high in the sky when Dean Winchester attempted to pry his heavy lids open, misty glow of daylight blaring in through the window. Damn, should have shut that blind. His senses were sluggish to reacting, the excessive beer he had ingested the night before, causing him to move slow. He blinked his eyes several times to clear out the grit, pulling his wrist watch up right in front of his nose to see the time. 11:40 A.M. Damn. He slung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and realized he was still in his clothes from yesterday; he wriggled up his nose in disgust; the blanket that had been laid across him falling aimlessly to the floor. I stink. He brought his hand up to his temple, rubbing the hangover headache away; then he saw the two Tylenol lying on the table with a glass of water. Bless Sammy. He hastily grabbed the pills downing them with the glass of cool water in one motion. Now to see if Sam was okay. He smiled to himself as he pulled to his feet, seeing the bed next to his perfectly made, corners nipped and tucked in strict John Winchester fashion. Sam.

He shuffled down the hallway toward the voices in the kitchen; standing just outside the doorway, he heard the most wonderful sound, the laughter and giggles of his baby brother. He must feel okay after last night. His own lips curled up into a happy grin; his brother could do that to him, make him laugh with the contagious sound of his giggles. He pushed the door open, eyes focusing on the pot of coffee, the aroma wafting up around his senses.

“Whoa, you look rough” Sam giggled out in a little quip.

“Sit dude, I’ll get the coffee.” Tom stood, pushing Dean to his chair; he moved to the coffee pot, grabbing a cup on the way. “Here, you look like you need this.” He slid the hot brew directly into Deans awaiting fingers.

“Thanks” Dean’s nose twisted up at the smell, lips smiling through the muggy feeling that still had him functioning with sluggish reflexes.

Dean’s eyes fell to his little brother noticing the large bruise that adorned his chin.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice intensifying as concerned edged into his tone.

“I’m fine, Dean. Just fine.” Sam smiled broadly at his brother.

“Good, I don’t remember too much after we got in the truck.” He offered with a smirk and a nod.

“No shit”, Tom chortled. “You are amusing and entertaining in your on right there Dean. I thoroughly enjoyed the show.” Yanking out another chair, Tom planted himself at the table, full cup of fresh coffee sloshing around in his grasping fingers.

Giggles abounded from Sam causing Tom and Dean to both look over at him. He looked so freaking young, honey brown bangs falling in his face, eyes shinning, face contorted up, and giggles shaking his body. They both grinned, faces flashing at each other, then laughter shaking their forms.

“He is way to happy today.” Tom chuckled out.

“Oh yea, he gets like that.” Dean smiled.

“Get like what? I can’t help it your ass is funny as hell; when you drink beer, hustle women, shoot pool and all around cause chaos in a bar.”

They all three laughed heartily, bodies relaxing in the chairs, chugging down their coffee between the merriment.

“So, Tom….what do you do in your spare time? You know when you’re saving people or working the hardware store?” Dean tilted his head, eyes twinkling at Tom, laughter on his lips.

Tom smiled a large smile, teeth taking up most of his face. “Oh, I deer hunt, duck hunt, squirrel hunt; you name it, I go hunt it.”

“Well, we can see that”, Sam smiled, “You got every animal known to man mounted round here.”

“You know, we could put you in touch with our friend Bobby, he could teach you; you could learn to hunt the supernatural, like we do.” Dean smiled at his brilliant suggestion. Yep, Tom would make a great hunter.

Sam tilted his head in a little ‘yes’ motion. Good idea, very good idea.

“I just need something to take up my time, that’s why I hunt animals. I have to stay busy.” Tom’s eyes suddenly seemed sad to Sam and he leaned in toward his face, he didn’t know why, but he felt the sudden urge to comfort him somehow.

Tom blinked several times to clear the dampness just behind his lids. He released a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I try to stay busy since….since”. He cut himself off as he stood quickly on his large legs and turned back to the coffee pot.

Sam gave Dean a questioning stare, both their eyes concerned and confused.

“Since what, Tom?” Sam whispered; afraid to ask, wanting to help if he could.

“My wife and two boys were killed two years ago in a car crash”. He lowered his yes to the shaking coffee cup in his hands; struggling to stay in control. “That’s when I moved back here, Temple. I couldn’t take being in Dallas, so I came back to my hometown, my folks house, here.”

Dean saw Tom’s shoulders slump, the weight of his words dragging him under. He stood on his unsteady legs and stepped up next to Tom, removing the quivering cup form his fingers, pushing him back to a chair.

“We’re so sorry”. Sam reached across the table and placed his long fingers on Tom’s forearm, giving it a light grasp.

Tom huffed in some air, his voice growing deeper. “Its okay, that was awhile ago. I’m fine. I got six hardware stores now, doing great.” He raised his head, sleeve coming quickly across his eyes and down to the table, then smiling at Dean and Sam.

The silence fell over the room as all three remembered their loved ones, the ache that not having them anymore sucking the air out of the room.

“You know, we lost … lost people too.” Sam’s voice timidly reflected; pulling his hands up to the table top, clasping and unclasping them; breath rising up into small pants.

Dean eyes squinted over at his brother? Was he getting upset? Not good, Sam did not need to be getting upset, fresh out of the hospital and all.

“Sam.” Dean took a step to his brother’s side and placed his hand on his shoulder giving it a light squeeze. Sam raised his head slowly, air catching in his chest. Dean saw the panic that seemed to be about to grip his brother. He slipped to his knees, cast bumping against the floor, he grabbed both of Sam’s shoulders tightly.

“Sam, it’s okay. Look at me. Breathe with me.”

Sam looked blearily into his brothers comforting hazel eyes and nodded his head slowly. He attempted to match his brothers breathing motion, suddenly feeling light headed and dizzy.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Dean watched as Sam struggled to keep his emotions in check, warm tears floating just behind his eyelashes. His breathe slowly coming into sync; his forehead falling lazily to Dean’s shoulder.

Tom regained his composure as he watched the magnitude with which the panic attack gripped Sam. One minute he was in control, the next he was not. He stepped quickly to the kitchen sick, grabbed a rag and dampened it under the water. He handed it hastily back to Dean, who whispered “Thanks”, and placed it on the back of Sam’s neck. Dean held the rag in place, thumb circling just above it on the top of Sam’s neck; other hand gripped tightly around his unsteady brother’s arm, voice murmuring into Sam’s ear.

Slowly the thudding in Sam’s chest began to lessen, his breathe coming in slower motions, his vision easing away from the darkness. His older brother’s strong grip; holding him, grounding him firmly in place. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay” Dean’s firm tone never wavering. “You need to lie down, come on; we will get you to the couch”.

“I’m… fi...fine.” Sam whimpered, almost too low for either man to here.

“SAM”, Tom’s voice was stern, authoritative and it caused Sam to tense up momentarily at the tone.

Sam stood on his weak knees, smiling up at his brother as he felt Dean’s firm hand placed against his back, his arm being guided toward the living room. He lay boneless to the cushions, and watched through bleary eyes as Tom quickly found a blanket and covered him with it, pulling it up to his chin and tucking it around him. Sam felt his eyes falling to half mast, then slowly shut, sleep and tiredness overtaking him. Dean’s fingers flowed rhythmically through Sam’s long hair, over and over, calming him to sleep with this soothing motion from his childhood. He wanted to tell them both to stop, he wasn’t a baby. He vaguely heard Dean’s vice next to his ear, in a far away whisper saying something, “He’s been through a lot…lost our Dad, his girlfriend.” As the lulling motion continued and pulled him under.

Dean smiled at Tom across the kitchen table. He was amazed at how quickly they had come to know the man. He reminded them both so much of their Dad, it was remarkable. He had just checked on Sammy, who was sleeping on the couch, resting peacefully.

“You know Tom, I wasn’t kidding before. You like to hunt, you have time, resources, skills; and you like to help people.”

Tom shifted in the chair, hands clasping across the table, eyes piercing over at Dean.

“So, you think I could learn it, do what you and Sam do?”

“Shit, of course you can. I saw your skills in action, you were amazing, besides, your size alone will scare a lot of things off.” Dean snickered.

“Well then, I’m game. Put me in touch with your friend, I want to do it.” Tom’s eyes flashed over at Dean, smile rolling up to his lips.

The bags were slung into the back of the truck with a thump as Tom Baldwin loaded up the last of his hunting gear and threw his duffle to the truck bed. He was excited, the first time in a long while. His heart was thudding in anticipation of this trip. He was ready for a change, some excitement, something to pump up his blood, get him moving. The suggestion by Sam and Dean, and the subsequent discussion with Bobby Singer, had only served to make him want this more. He would be a hunter, and he would help those who needed it. He turned back to the sleek black Impala and the two men standing next to it. It had been six weeks since he met the young Winchesters, six of the best weeks of is life. He had helped them on their quest to rid the world of evil, he and gaven them a place to rest, recover, and along the while, he had grown to care about them in a way he thought he could not feel anymore. Sam and Dean had helped to take up a big empty place that he had felt for the last two years, a void that he knew would engulf him if something did not change. He shuffled his large size 13 boots back toward the Impala and the ‘boys’.

“You boys be careful, you hear me.” Tom’s strong voice rolled off his lips. “Dean, you take care of our brother. Sam, you watch out for Dean; he can sure get himself in some trouble shooting pool.”

“Oh come on man, I got that under control.” Dean huffed.

“Sure you do.” Sam rolled his eyes, extending his hand toward Tom, who grabbed it sternly, then pulled the youngest Winchester into a hug, fingers coming up to the back of his long locks and mussing them. Sam laughed as he wrapped his own arms tightly around the big man. “Miss you already.” Sam muffled into Tom’s shoulder.

“I’ll miss you boy.” Tom said as he pulled himself away, blinking his eyes quickly.

Dean stood rocking unconsciously on the balls of his feet, nervously bouncing the car keys in his fingers. He knew what was coming. Jesus, enough with the chick flick moments, please.

Tom quickly grabbed Dean stiffly into a hug. This is not something Dean likes at all.

He snickered at Dean as their eyes met briefly, then to his amazement, the oldest Winchester did something out of his normal realm of personality; he hugged Tom back tightly, holding him like there was no tomorrow. Tom shuffled around; his hand rubbing against Dean’s jacketed back. Then, as quickly as the motion happened, it ended. Dean pulled backward with one quick step, hand dropping back to fiddle with the car keys, eyes not looking up again.

“You call us; let us know how it’s going with Bobby.” Sam smiled one last time as he opened the passenger door, sliding into his usual position. Dean opened the passenger door and grabbed his seat behind the steering wheel.

“Will do, you guys be careful. Call me.” Tom laid his hand on the top of the Impala as Dean turned over the ignition. “Nice Car”, his hand thumped loudly on the hood just above Dean’s head. Dean veered his eyes over and up to Tom, shiny hazel orbs scrunched up in smile lines. “Nice car indeed, if you ever decide you need to pawn it off, I know an old guy who would love it.” Tom chuckled and tapped the hood again.

“Yea, I got it…” Dean blinked his eyes several times, grinning at Tom. He pulled his eyes away, riving up the engine, “See you around”.