Happy Hot Humid Summer Everyone!

And as always, a very special thanks to all of you who hang in there with me and provide me with such gracious words of encouragement!

Sorry All! Here I thought I had this last chapter posted weeks ago.

Oh, and FYI, this story will be continued - sorta - in what (as well as this one) could be considered a stand-alone. (Course, this was supposed to be a one-chapter shot! Oh well.)

Maggie, lounging on the sofa-bed after returning from a trip to a mini-mart, simply sighed when the cry of pain sounded from the other side of the wall. She was too old for this; she no longer babysat infants and apparently adult males should be struck from her list as well. When the telltale thump of body-hitting-floor came, she swung her feet off the bed and pushed off the mattress with surprising agility for a woman of her age in such a state of exhaustion yet with little urgency. After all, there were no bugs in this hotel suite and the floor was well padded with a thick, clean carpet.

"Here now." she unhooked the caught curtain and it fell across the window, successfully blocking the culprit responsible for the current state of her, charge? – patient? – responsibility? – and stood with her hands on her hips. "Well, what the devil have you gone and done this time?" she clucked her tongue in disapproval. "I mean, really, what are you even doing out of bed? Do you never stay there?"

The reason for being on his knees now gone but blind from the shock of the unexpected light, Dean groped for the wall. Maggie stepped around him, took hold of his elbow, guided his flailing hand to the dresser for support and helped him gain his feet, turning him towards the bed once he managed to stand. He covered the distance with wobbly steps and sank down on the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Now what?" Maggie frowned, foot tapping in agitation. For the love…..he had that mother-humping gun in his hand - again. Seriously, was it ever out of his sight? "Lie down." she picked the blankets up, shook them out, retrieved the pillows from the floor, eyed the bed in annoyance. "Stand up!"

"Make up your mind." he mentally struggled to gain some perspective but failed miserably. He stood while she astonishingly made quick work of re-making the bed then obeyed her command to sit down and resumed his former position. "Time is it?"

"Little after two." she replied. "Seriously, lie down before you fall off the bed."

You said….sit." two? Well, that couldn't be good. Nope, not good at all. Oh hey, maybe not as much time had passed as he thought. Oh. No. No….it was daylight – fucking sun – and the last he remembered, it'd been dark. When had morning dawned? Had he had that much to drink? He made a face, Granma was nice and all but he sure has hell knew he hadn't picked her up at the bar. He gulped, had he? "Day?" he swallowed hard. Lie, stand, sit…whoever the hell she was, she needed to make up her mind. "What day…..is it?"

"It's Thursday." she fluffed the pillows, tossed them to the mattress and patted the pile of three encouragingly. "Come now, lie down."

"Thurs…..?" his mind whirled, touched down, took flight, spun out of control, crashed. "Can't be. What happened to…? Isn't…..it…?" he set the gun on the mattress next to his hip, and tried to follow the conversation, palms pressed to his forehead. "Today's…is…uh…..shit." he bit his lip, trying to remember. "Uh, 'nesday?" he guessed. "Right?" he prayed, let it be Wednesday, let it be Wednesday, let it be...

"Wednesday was yesterday. You don't remember it? I'm not surprised. Jody retrieved you from jail, spent the day with you first at the clinic, then the ER."

Aw, fuck, it wasn't Wednesday.

"But….." the impact hit him with the force of being thrown into a wall, he was exhausted. Oh, yeah, and he hurt. It hurt to think, hurt to concentrate, hurt to talk. "Noooooo." he moaned. It couldn't be Thursday, it had to be Wednesday. He couldn't deal with losing a day, couldn't handle the fall-out sure to come his way; couldn't be responsible for super-storm Sammy being unleashed upon the unsuspecting town of…..of…of…Oh. Dear. God. He had no freaking idea where he was. He chewed on his lip. He wanted to howl, wail….Sam might be furious and impatient with him but he would never sit still and do nothing if Dean were missing. Never!

"Sam?" Maggie was saying - repeating, Dean realized - with a snort. "Jody called him."

Dean was confused, he didn't recall talking out loud yet she knew what he was thinking. Sam…..Sam, he…..uh…aah, no…..Sam…..Sam was…was…who was Sam again? His eyebrows called a meeting and met above his nose with a clamor that made his ears ring. Oh, right, that Sam, yeah…brother. Oh, that brother. Ruh-roh.

He tensed, squirmed uncomfortably, as something knocked - pounded in furious repetition - on the door to his brain, demanding entry and boy, was it insistent: Oh, it was thought; hello thought, aah, I see you're accompanied by knowledge and who's that behind…oh, reason, yeah….long time no see dude. What brings you by? What's that, you say? Buy a fucking clue? Trying, Oh-Lordy I'm trying.

"…..in all my years….." she nattered on. "...babysitting…...never...…not like this."

Okay, fine. Yo, you there, unknown female voice, how about shutting up and letting me think? Now, where was I…? Sam…..Sam…oh, right. Yeah sure, Sam had run him out of the bunker, sent him on a wild goose chase to South Dakota – Dean wasn't stupid, he well knew the ingredient could be found in a store closer to home – but Sam had wanted peace and quiet and solitude so Dean had had to go. No worry, Sam knew where Dean was, what he was doing, when he'd be back and who he'd be with – which was supposed to have been no one. Now…..but now….oh now, Wednesday was missing, which meant, so was Dean, and he was off Sammy radar and…..

"You fall off that bed and land on your head, I will beat you with a shoe." she informed him with a sniff, claiming what little attention he'd regained. "Now lie down." she waited. "Don't make me tell you again."

He stared up at her, then dropped down onto his back so suddenly, he startled her. With a cry of alarm, she was on the mattress, knee on either side of him, nose to nose, his face cupped in her hands holding his head still as she peered into his eyes; neither eyelid drooped, neither eye appeared to have sunk into its socket, neither eye was bloodshot, no veins had ruptured but his pupils were uneven, the right blown and though he could focus his gaze, he couldn't hold it for long and the way his eyes skittered and rolled with their sockets independently of one another, freaked her out. Yuck.

"Dean? Dean?!" she smacked his cheek lightly. "Here now, Dean?"

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod, the meeting in his mind over Sam adjourned. Yup, his poor ole mind just up and abandoned the discussion and regrouped to attack this new threat, yapping in full-fledged frantic panic. He had picked her up in the bar! He was never, EVER drinking generic tequila in the back poker room of a roadside bar again. He frowned, what was on his nose and was there such a thing as generic tequila?

"What'r'u'doin'?" he muttered in bewilderment, tongue thick with confusion. Oh God, what had he done? She was…..was….was she trying to kiss him? He swallowed spit, head trying its best to split in two.

"Don't be doing that." relief he was conscious, hadn't passed out or collapsed from a burst vessel or floating blood clot, made her voice sharp. She sat up then backed off the bed and got to her feet. He shifted his weight to his hip and pulled one leg up at a time before turning to his side, hanging his head off the far side of the mattress and puking on the floor. "You just had to go and do that, didn't you?"

"Light bright." he got up on his knees in the middle of the mattress and sat with his ass on his ankles to accept the plastic tumbler of water she offered him. "Bright light?" he shrugged. "Ow.

"Can you tell me how you feel?"

"Need….." he paused, as she hovered over him, watching him sip and swallow. "What'r'u'doin'?" crap on a cracker, but she was worse than Cas when it came to invading his personal space. Like seriously, Granma, back off! He handed her the empty cup and settled himself quite comfortably among the pillows and blankets on his belly.

"There! That! Stop doing that." she shook a finger at him. He was slurring words but hadn't choked on the water, had no trouble swallowing and hadn't had an issue coordinating hand to mouth. "Do you know who I am?"

He ignored the question, because, no, he didn't have a fucking clue who the hell she was. Or how he'd ended up in her hotel room. Or why.

"Stop what?" hmmmm, Sam knew where he was, even if Dean didn't know where Dean was, right? He giggled, blowing bubbles. He was Dean! Did that make sense? Maybe it did. Did it?

"Slurring your words together."

"S.a.m." he pronounced the single syllable with exaggeration. "Better?" what was she, a school teacher? Ooohh…maybe she was a paramedic or ambulance attendant and he'd been hurt and she'd been giving him mouth-to-mouth. He slit one eye open…..Ha, right. Ow, his head.

"He was supposed to be here last night. Jody called and left him messages." speaking of Jody, Maggie supposed she ought to call her daughter-in-law and notify her of their change of address. There just hadn't been time, what with the morning being so hectic; the bug, the shooting, the accusation she'd been dancing, her aches and pains from sleeping like a corpse, leaping and hopping and being used as a crutch, fleeing, then a shower, then shopping, a nap.…oh, how she could go on.

"Joe-dee?" silence. "Share-ifff?" silence. "Oh." he nestled into the depths of the surprisingly comfortable mattress that smelled…..well, clean. There was something…..something….something about Sam and, and…..what was it? What was it? Wasn't coming to him, oh well. Nothing else to do but sleep off his couldn't-didn't-want-to-remember-bender.

"Sure, sure, you sleep." Maggie began a search for Dean's cell phone, to hell with Jody. "Sleep's the best thing for you."

***000***

"He's gone." Cas had an uncanny knack for stating the obvious and if Sam wouldn't have broken his fist doing it, he'd have punched the angel for it. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Cas in the doorway and while he scanned the room with a practiced eye, Cas let his senses reach out and search for scents and sounds or sights Sam, a human, couldn't hear, see or smell.

"You think?" Sam growled, fists clenching but remaining by his sides. "You getting anything?"

Cas shook his head. "There's nothing Sam. No sulfur, just an abundance of feathers." he held one. "Chicken. Synthetic." he looked around one more time then settled his gaze on Sam. "A gun has been discharged recently."

"But no one was shot?" Sam asked, heart hammering at his chest. Christ, it might just break through, would, if Castiel nodded confirmation. "Right?" he insisted. "Cas!" fast approaching state of panic, here buddy-of-mine.

"I do not smell blood."

Sam splayed a hand over his heart, willing it to return to its normal rhythm. "Anything?" he could breathe again. Mostly. He had to coach himself; in, out, in, out, in, out.

"There is a scent….lavender I believe." he was quiet, hard though it was, Sam held his breath and gave him time. "There was no violence, no struggle."

It wasn't enough. Sam's instinct to panic remained and he fought to contain the urge before the emotion became dominant and he ended up trashing the motel room in fury. Cas paid him no attention, wandering the room while Sam held the counter, knuckles white, arms shaking as he struggled not to overturn the table and kick it to pieces.

"Everything's gone." Cam commented a moment later, emerging from the bathroom. "Nothing remains Sam."

"Yeah, Cas, got that." his vision blurred out. Most likely caused by; anger, frustration, guilt, disappointment, rage….take your pick.

"I mean his belongings." Cas replied patiently. "No clothes, no weapons, not even a tube of toothpaste….it's gone, it's all gone."

In some dim corner of his splintered, warring mind, Sam heard Cas's voice and the words eventually penetrated the red haze threatening to envelop him. He pushed away from the counter and looked – really looked – around the room. The bed was unmade, the sofa rumbled with sheets, a six-pack of beer sat on the counter next to a bottle of whiskey but yeah, Cas was right – there was nothing else in the room, well feathers.

Sam moved around the room slowly, looked under the bed, the sofa, the dresser, the desk, not even the Impala's keys were found. Okay, so Dean had packed before leaving – no, not Dean or the booze wouldn't still be there. Maggie then, for she wouldn't categorize booze as a priority, but how had she convinced Dean to leave the car?

He swallowed, the lump in his throat remained so he swallowed again, harder, then again.

"Can…..you go see if they checked out?" Sam asked once his throat was capable of evicting words, deceptively calm, shot-up pillow in his hands. If he went to ask, the desk clerk would need medical attention if he failed to provide the answers Sam wanted to hear. Cas nodded and headed out the door. Once he was gone, Sam searched for clues or signs that Dean hadn't left voluntarily or had been injured during an altercation but found nothing. He knew he wouldn't, had taken Cas at his word, trusted the angel to tell him the truth, but he had to see for himself.

Dean, so help me...he sighed, pillow on the table, hands shoved through his hair. Gotta find you before I can throttle you – and I will throttle you – so, where the fuck are you?

Cas wasn't long, returning to find Sam in the trunk of the Impala. "He hasn't checked out." Cas announced. "Apparently, there was a disturbance just after dawn this morning and the police were called. But when they got here, no one knew anything and this room was empty."

"Gun shots." Sam guessed.

"And female screams." Cas added. "The police found nothing, so they left. This place has a reputation."

Sam nodded. Yeah, course it did. He settled his ass on the open trunk and pulled out his cell, hoping he could keep a civil tongue in his mouth should he be lucky and Jody actually answer. If she told him, despite Cas's assures, Dean had been shot, he would set fire to this motel, grab the first person he saw and shake them until they spilled the answers he wanted to hear. He dared anyone to try to stop him – well, Cas could but Sam had an angel blade and he'd use it.

"Hey Sam, what's up?" Jody greeted cheerfully. "You get to Parker yet?"

"Where's my brother Jody?" Sam wasted no time with greetings. He wanted his brother and anyone who stood in his way was subject to his anger and scorn and fury, Jody included. "And don't pull any shit."

"Aah, at the Motor Lodge Inn, in Parker, South Dakota." Jody said perplexed.

"No, he's not."

"Room 12." she continued. "I spent hours there with him Sam."

"He's not here. His car is but he's not."

"You sure you're…?" she sighed. Of course he was in the right place. "Sam, I left him in the capable hands of Maggie, she would never leave him."

"Would she shoot a gun?"

"WHAT? NO!"

"Someone did. Shot a pillow."

"Dean….?" she questioned without any hope of confirmation. Hell, both brothers were better shots than she was. "I mean, would he…?"

"Shoot a pillow?" he barked in disbelief. "Really Jody? Really?"

"Sam…"

"He hasn't answered his cell." Sam informed her tersely. "Where would she take him?"

"She wouldn't take him anywhere. He isn't supposed to travel, so why would she move him?"

"The police just left."

"Aah." Jody reached for her desk phone. "Is there a white Subaru Impreza in the parking lot?" she inquired.

"Who the FUCK cares Jody!" Sam exploded, so much for keeping a civil tongue. "I WANT my BROTHER and dammit you'd better know WHERE the hell HE is!"

"Hey, calm down. Maggie will take care of him Sam." Jody juggled both phones. "She'll protect him."

"With her life?"

"She'd flee the police." Jody said calmly. "And she wouldn't leave him behind. She may not know who he is, but she knows you don't go shooting a gun in a motel room."

"Does he even know who she is?"

"I'm sure he remembers her. She stitched him up twice." her call to Maggie's cell phone went to voice mail. Well, damn. "Maggie drives a white Subaru, if….."

"I'm standing in the parking lot, there's no white car." Sam fidgeted, itching his hairline, tugging an earlobe, twitching his nose, thinning and pursuing his lips, fingers pinching his cheek, chin, upper lip. "Where would she go? Where does she live? Would she take him home?" his cell pinged, someone was calling in. He pulled the phone from his ear, saw the number was Dean's and hung up on Jody without another word. "Dean? Jesus Christ! I'm gonna kick your ass! You…"

"What kind of greeting is that?" he was chided. "Using the Lord's name in vain."

"WHAT?" he was taken aback and took a second to regroup. "Dean? What the hell? Where the hell are you?"

"Where are we?" the commanding tone cut him off. "Where the bloody blazes are you?"

Sam gawped. "Eh…..?"

"You know, I don't need your attitude, I really don't. I was perfectly fine at home, filling out a catalog order for new slippers but oh-no, I had to go and answer the phone. 'I need you to watch him, Jody said. Only for a couple of hours, Jody said. Sam will be here soon, Jody said. All he'll do is sleep, Jody said. Everything will be alright until Sam gets there, Jody said.' It's never good news when your phone rings after supper." she was quite put out and Sam knew it, just didn't know how to respond to it. And boy, she was on a raging roll 'cause he wasn't getting a word in were he to try. "Well, I watched him alright. Watched him hold a gun first on me, then the maid before shooting a perfectly goo…..well, innocent pillow. He sleeps with that gun, I know he does, I just haven't figured out where he keeps putting it. You've yet to show up, you didn't even call and oh-hoy, he..."

"Uh….Maggie?" he questioned.

"Of course it's Margaret." she huffed. "Who else would it be?"

"You left the motel Jody said I'd find you at." Sam accused, recovering and bouncing back.

"Well, of course we did." she said dismissively. "We couldn't very well be there for the police to find and arrest us, now could we? It wasn't Jody's jurisdiction." she continued before Sam could speak again. "That motel was disturbing. The room was filthy, the employees questionable, the clientele suspicious…"

"The police?" Sam prompted. "Why….?"

"Oh." she was quiet, Sam waited impatiently. "Well, yes. I suppose that was my fault."

"Oh? Oh? OH? That's it? Oh?" patience was packing and about to leave. Maggie better have a damn good reason for screaming so loud Dean had fired his gun. Like she'd been mugged or masked men wielding machetes had burst into the room or black smoke had invaded from the vents. "OH?! Maggie! What the hell?"

"Well!" she wheedled in the best 'Samantha Stevens' impersonation Sam had ever heard. "You see, there were bugs Sam."

"Huh?" he managed to grunt, mind spinning to recall and identify various types of bugs: killer bugs, demon bugs, possessed bugs, bugs placed by the FBI, aah….come on Sam think, it's what you excel at…what else? Bug invasion? Diseased bugs? Spirit bugs? Another curse?

"I, uh, occupied a space inhibited by bugs." she offered. "….and….you see….let me tell you…..and…..with legs."

"Bugs?" he croaked weakly, distracted from his rant by her inane subject chatter. "Did you….say…bugs?" he pressed a palm to his forehead. "What kind of bugs?" he swore he could see through the phone and see her nodding her grey head in emphasis. "Um….." he was at a loss, beyond bewildered. "Maggie, all bugs have legs. They're insects."

"There were bugs in the carpet Sam." she explained reasonably. "With antenna." clueless to the building explosion headed her way, she added helpfully. "And it had more than two legs." she went on. "I picked it up. I thought it was a piece of paper…"

"Carpet?" he repeated. "Bug? Legs? You….you…..left because you found a bug in the carpet? You….you….took my brother from the safety of a secure motel room and did the one thing the doctor advised against – travel with him because you saw a bug? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

"Don't you take that tone with me." she warned. "And the doctor warned him not to fly, or travel any great distance by car. We're maybe thirty minutes up the road." she didn't volunteer it had taken her well over an hour of driving around, in the bright sun until she'd found a hotel acceptable to her standards. "He's fine by the way, since you asked."

Sam let his fingers trail his cheek, then his nose, finally his chin. Nope, no brain splatter, his head only felt like it had exploded. He fingered his eyes, yup, still intact and his fingers came away without a red stain. Nose, nope, not dripping mucus. No drool on his lip. So no, he hadn't thrown a stroke. Oh, there's Cas….what the hell does he want? What's he doing? Oh right, healing touch. Two fingers to the forehead and Sam was much calmer.

….wait, was she lecturing him? "And just where have you been? I expected you last night. What took you so long? I may be old and not to knowledgeable on the modern era of today's technology, but Jody repeatedly insisted she left you numerous voice mails and sent you texts and emails."

"What's he doing?" Sam asked, ignoring the reprimand evident in her voice. He was just too emotionally wiped to deal with disapproving grandmothers. Emotions now under control, courtesy of Castiel, he was able to not snap at her.

"He's in bed." she answered. "And he'd better be asleep."

"Tell me where you are and I'll come get him."

"Where are you?"

"His motel room in Parker."

"Fine. Come get him." she gave him the name of the hotel and the highway exit. "We'll be here."

"Maggie, you…..uh, haven't….you know….um, like….pissed him off, have you?" Sam asked carefully. "Does he know who you are?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Someone shot a pillow and he…..uh, well, he can be…..unpredictable when he's…..not well."

"You mean, when he's off his meds." Maggie corrected flatly. "I'm retiring. Moving to Florida….no….no, that's too close. What country is on the other side of the world from South Dakota?"

"What? NO!" Sam yelped, startled. "No….no! He's not on any medication!"

"I knew IT!" Maggie exclaimed triumphantly. "He's a drug-addicted criminal!"

"No….you don't understand….he…he's not himself when he's hurt or scared." Sam shut the trunk and walked around to the driver's door. "Hang tight. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Does he need me?" Castiel questioned him. "I'll follow you."

"Keep up." Sam got in, slammed the door, sent Jody a text, started the engine with his own set of keys and pulled out.

***000***

Maggie left the sheets on the mattress and folded it back into the sofa. It took up the entire floor of the living area and she was tired of walking around it. She cleaned up the mess on the floor, took a quick shower, dressed in clean clothes, made a ham sandwich and curled up on the sofa to eat and watch Ellen while she waited for Sam to arrive and retrieve his brother.

Not himself when he's hurt! Pfft…..as if! As if she'd ever dealt with him any other way. Violent, dangerous, unpredictable.

Still mentally muttering, she dozed off – who would blame her, with the evening and morning she'd had – opening her eyes however long later, to the fright of her life – again. For standing next to the sofa, gazing down at her with a confused expression was a face she'd never in her life, seen before. Her feet kicked, the plate resting on her lap went airborne, her hands flung out and she squawked, fighting the soft cushions, her age and a pillow or two as she struggled to surge to her feet and confront this latest threat.

"GET OUT!" she whopped the face with a pillow, right hand, left hand, both hands, repeat. "GET OUT OF MY ROOM THIS INSTANT!" she attacked but the man didn't move, didn't even flinch. "911!" she beat him about the head and shoulders, hands rotating in rhythm. "Remove yourself. 911! This is NOT your room….you….you…you miscreant!"

"Sam?" Cas straightened his tie, holding a palm out to ward off a renewed attack. "Sam?" he was being beaten quite thoroughly by a petite elderly woman wielding a pillow. "Sam?" whop, whop. Two pillows.

"You. Are. Not. Sam." she kicked him in the shin, the ankle, stomped on his toes. "911!"

"Back away from her."

Cas turned his head. She was no threat to him, couldn't hurt him but she was going to break a toe if she didn't stop kicking him. "Dean." Cas intoned. "How are you feeling?"

"Shoot him!" Maggie yelled. "Shoot him in the knee!" she completely missed the fact her punching bag had called Dean by name.

"What is she doing Dean? Does she not know she can't hurt me?" Cas held his hands up to prove he was not the one doing the attacking. "We came as soon as Sam retrieved his messages."

"Who are you?" Maggie demanded, gasping for breath. Dean, gun in hand, wasn't shooting anyone and this man seemed to know who Dean was so she forced herself to calm down. "Who is he? Dean! For the life of me, I simply don't understand why you don't remain in bed?"

Yeah, yeah, that was a good idea. Dean rubbed at his forehead, feeling hot and flushed and more than a little dizzy. She was right, why didn't he ever stay in bed?

"I'm too old for this. I should be playing bingo and knitting sweaters and feeding quarters into slot machines." Maggie muttered, clapping the pillows together in warning when Cas took a step towards Dean. "Guns and strange men and bugs and prostitutes and running from the police are NOT senior activities approved by AARP."

"Hey Dean." Sam said easily. "Wanna get that gun outta Cas's face? Not gonna stop him you know." he reached over Maggie's head from behind her back and plucked the pillows from her hands. "Wow, you really have something against pillows, don't you?" he wasn't paying Maggie any mind, his entire attention on his wobbly brother, whose shaky hand aimed the gun at Cas who'd he yet to recognize.

He gulped, his brother's face; that wide-eyed stare, that un-blinking blank look, that unwavering gaze – Sam knew them well. How many times over the years since he was old enough to remember, had he seen it? How many times had he been so scared, he'd called Bobby or Pastor Jim or the motel front office? His dads orders be-damned; raise his father's ire and risk punishment or seek help to make sure his brother wasn't, you know, dying on him? It wasn't a choice, there'd never been a choice.

"Hope you know, once you're healed, I'm going to thoroughly kick your ass." his voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

Dean blinked, blinked until his eyes focused and the light of recognition dawned in their depths then let them space-out, lowering the gun to aim at the floor. Sure, Sam, go ahead, kick my ass, like to see you try. You and what army? He frowned…..there'd been two Sam's. Huh, yeah, preventing two Sam's from kicking his ass might prove difficult. No….no, huh? He opened one eye, strained to force his bleary gaze to focus. Wow, was getting harder to do that. Aah there, that was better. Right, only one Sam and….Oh, oh-oh, Sam's army of one. For there, just behind Sam, stood Cas and boy, he didn't look happy.

"Fucked yourself up, huh?" Sam continued. Again, he added silently. "Turning me grey, dude." he ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously, Dean, you gotta stop doing this shit." to me. "I mean, really? Brained in a bar? Come on, you know better than that." his throat went thick again with emotion, and his husky voice betrayed him, displaying emotion, not anger.

"Go 'way." Dean slurred sleepily, letting Sam take the gun. "Lemme 'lone."

Sam grinned. "What's that? Leave you alone? Why's that, Dean. 'Cause unlike poor Maggie, I won't let you pull your shit and get away with doing what you want?" he took hold of Dean's elbow and turned him around. "Back to bed. Come on."

There it was! Woo-wee, bed! The clean, good smelling bed with comfy pillows, crisp white sheets and body-hugging mattress. "Wanna sleep." Dean needed no encouraging, he fell across the mattress, turned onto his stomach, and buried his head under the pillow. "An' I can…..she said so."

"Not yet." Sam tossed the pillow and tugged the blankets from beneath him. "She isn't in charge anymore." his nose wrinkled in distaste. Bar, jail cell, clinic, hospital, motel room with bugs, someone needed a shower. "Cas?"

"Cas's here?" Dean groaned, voice muffled. "Why'd you bring him?"

"You shush." Sam yawned. "Cas, he ok?" he sat on the bed next to Dean and looked up at Castiel, waiting for the angel to say what Sam was desperate to hear.

Dean swatted at the arm from which the palm groping for his head extended. When it didn't move, he growled, baring teeth.

"Yes Sam, he'll be fine." Castiel informed him solemnly. "In time, I'm talking weeks." he paused. "As long as you don't allow him to do something stupid."

Sam nodded, he'd find the strength to mount and conquer that monumental task. "But you can't heal him?"

Cas shook his head. "Not with my limited powers."

Sam nodded again. "Long as you say he's gonna be ok, that's good enough for me. Thanks."

"I'm not needed here." Cas announced. "I have….."

"Go on." Sam nodded . "Keep in touch."

"Are you taking him home?"

"Not for a week." Maggie yelled from within the 'fridge. "The doctor stressed he not be moved for a week."

"Yet, you brought him here." Castiel said. She ignored him.

"Yeah, Cas, I mean, no." Sam shook his head. "We'll stay here until he's feeling better. However long that takes."

"You need me, call." Castiel went to the door. "I'll swing by on the weekend, see how he's doing. Take care of him Sam."

Always, Sam thought. "I'll let you know when we head for home."

"I wish I could take him there."

"Yeah, well, even if you could, I don't think he's up to flying Angel air."

"NO FLYING!" Maggie shouted.

Sam grinned, getting up to walk Cas out before joining her at the table.

"So, lunch?" Maggie asked. "I have ham or tuna. There's soup." she didn't wait for an answer, began preparing him a sandwich with bagged lettuce and fresh tomato, the potato soup in a pan on the stove. "Sofa folds out into a bed."

"Thanks, but you keep it." Sam stole a piece of turkey and rolled the slice of deli meat like a crescent roll. "Thanks Maggie, for being here. For staying with him. For not leaving him. I know he's not easy to deal with."

"Hmmph." she slathered mayo on a slice of whole grain bread. "He – you – matter to Jody." she said after several seconds of silence. "That girl means the world to me and she's had a rough time of it. I'd do anything for her." she paused. "Though after this favor, she owes me a vacation. A cruise, I believe."

"He didn't, ah, scare you, did he?"

"Oh, no." she waved off his concern airily. "Startled me a time or two, maybe." she conceded after a moment. "You really aren't going to try to travel with him, are you? I have to say, light…."

"No." he held a hand up. "We're staying right here until he sees the doctor next week. Jody said you have a file for me?"

"Oh, the file. Yes, ice tea?"

"Please." he eyed the sandwich and bowl of soup she set before him eagerly, rubbing his palms together. "Thank you."

"You eat, then get some sleep. You look worse than he does." she puttered around, cleaning up, putting items away. "I visited the store, there's food here for a week, room's paid for."

"There's no need for you to hurry off. He gave you a rough time, spend the day recovering, leave in the morning"

"And have you sleep on the floor?"

"Hell, no." he gave her a tired grin. "Sofa bed's yours, I'll bed down with Dean." he bit into the sandwich. "We're good."

***000***

Dean stirred, easing onto his back with caution but no jarring pain bit him in the ass. Well, his head still hurt, dammit. Damn cheap whiskey. The room was dim but he saw outlines of familiar shapes that identified a motel room and sighed. So, not home. He rolled over, stretched and stilled, slanting his eyes to the left, he wasn't alone. There, in a chair, near his bed…...an apparition and it wasn't Granma.

"Hey." greeted a shimmering, fuzzy image that wavered and danced and made his eyes cross.

And it spoke. Dean frowned, not good. Not good at all. Nope. Not good. He was too tired to fight, to hunt to...to...

"Dean? You awake?"

And it knew his name!

"You hit your head." it went on. "Pretty bad concussion. How you feeling?"

Dean didn't answer, hand sliding under his pillow, looking for the gun that wasn't there.

"Yeah, not gonna find your gun." it continued. "You don't need it. I'm here now."

Dean swallowed, struggling to contain his growing panic, tried in vain to keep it from showing on his face.

"Dean, hey, look at me. You're ok." the bed jostled as Sam shifted his weight from the chair. "You know who I am, right?"

"Sammy?" he said after a while. "Where you been?"

"Got here this morning." Sam gave him a tired grin. "You've been sleeping all day."

"I see Cas?"

"Yeah, he was here, said you're gonna be ok." he didn't add that it would probably take weeks and during that time Dean would be lucky if Sam let him out of his sight long enough to pee.

"Granma?'

"Who?" Sam's stomach clenched, was Dean worse? He'd been sitting vigil next to the bed all day, eagle-eyed, watching for a change in breathing, checking his brother's eyes periodically, calling Dean's name to see if he could get a response. And he had; rolling of the head, licking of lips, once or twice, Dean's eyes had opened, once he'd reached for Sam's hand. Now this? Finally awake and after a moment of lucidity, falling fast to confusion?

"I picked Granma up….at…in…uh, jail maybe?" he licked his lips, thirsty. "Maybe…the bar. She's been here….with me."

"Maggie, Dean. Her name's Maggie, don't you remember her from Jody's house?" Sam went giddy with relief.

"Uh, no?" he paused. "Whose 'ouse?"

"Sheriff Mills." Sam waited, but nope, nothing. "That's ok. I'll tell you later."

"Sammy?" he squirmed uneasily. Slept all day, huh? Yup, his bladder agreed with that. In fact, it was screaming.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I don't feel good."

"I know you don't."

"Sammy?"

"What now?" a light flashed then shone into his eyes, thumb holding up first one eyelid, then the other. Dean tried to turn away, voicing his displeasure with a whimper when he couldn't.

"Ow." Dean moaned. "That hurts."

"Yeah, thought it would."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I gotta piss."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Sam joked. "Now?"

"You ain't leaving? You're gonna stay?" his fingers curled around a swatch of denim, held tight. "And take me home?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam swallowed hard, staring down at the hand that grasped his leg, allowing the hold on his jeans. "We gonna go take a leak or get some sleep?"

"There's a leak?" Dean murmured sleepily. "What's leaking?" he resettled himself on his side, facing Sam, grip still tight. "Do I gotta fix it?"

Sam rolled his eyes. What's leaking is your intelligence and common sense outta your brain and no, you don't have to fix it, I do. 'Cause that's what brothers do, fix what's wrong.

"No." Sam rasped, poking his brother in the hip with one finger until he moved over enough Sam could lie down next to him. "You don't hafta fix anything, I'm here." I'll do all the fixing needing done, he finished silently.

Maggie stood in the doorway, cellphone in hand and snapped a photo of the slumbering brothers with a wicked grin. She wasn't above a bit of juvenile blackmail. "There's gotta be someone I can threaten you with, with exposure." she chuckled and turned to return to the kitchen when she stubbed her toe on the doorway. "Ow, that hurt!"

***END***