Dean was still having a hard time knowing how to act around Sam. He was constantly worried about slipping up and accidentally mentioning something about hunting. As strange as it may seem, this amnesia might be a good thing after all. What better way to shield Sam from this horrendous life than to completely erase it?

In a way Sam was lucky. He had no memory of pain, hardship, or loss. No memory of death, sadness, or defeat.

Bobby completely disagreed with him. Told Dean, how it "wasn't his choice to make," and reminded him of all the countless arguments he and Sam have gotten in over that were similar to this. But Dean was stubborn. It just wasn't the right time for Sam to know.

Bobby stayed with them for awhile but had to go on a hunt somewhere East. It sure got a whole lot quieter without him.

Sam slept for basically half the day. When he was up, he barely talked. As much as Dean hated to think it, he missed his old stupid conversations with his brother. Missed his hunting partner. He kept reminding himself that not telling Sam anything was for the best. For once, this was 100% selfless. How could Dean possibly benefit from this? It's what Sam always wanted anyways- to have a normal life and all.

In the afternoon Dean left to grab some lunch and bring it to the hospital room.

"Hey Sammy," hollered Dean while opening the door. He dumped the food on the table and began eating his warm and delicious burger. "I got you some fries," he put the box besides Sam on the bed.

"Not hungry," Sam replied while fiddling with the tv remote. Sam has insisted on keeping the News channel on 24/7. It's as if he wanted to catch up on how terrible the world is.

"You gotta eat Sam."

"I said I'm not hungry Dean."

"Sam the doctor said that-" Sam grabbed the box of fries and threw it on the ground, scattering them around the room.

"No! I told you. " Sam looked at the fries on the floor then returned to watching tv.

The doctor warned Dean that Sam might act differently. That it was normal for patients with TBIs to have aggressive outbursts, abnormal laughing/crying, forgetting words, persistent headaches, and on the list went. But Dean was still unsure of how to handle it. It scared him seeing his brother like this. He sighed and began picking up the fries. When he was done he sat down and finished eating his burger. It was cold. Great.

Sam was ready to be discharged from the hospital the next day. Of course he'd have to bring him back weekly for physical therapy and other appointments, but Dean was glad to be done living with him in that mess of a hospital. He missed his crappy motel room. There was a certain familiarity to it that not even a mansion could replace.

Despite much complaining from Sam, the nurses had to push him in a wheelchair to the car. Hospital protocol. Dean helped him get in the passenger seat and started the car. It was weird. Sam looked the same, but could not have been any more different. Dean still felt the urge to drive off with him on a hunt somewhere.

But instead of driving off to go save the day, he drove to the pharmacy and picked up Sam's medicine. The doctor warned Dean that it was still important to make sure Sam doesn't get too worked up over something, the medicine would prevent seizures from occurring- but not completely stop them.

They drove to the motel in silence. What was there to talk about? Dean gripped the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. Sam stared emptily out the window.

Even with Sam here, Dean couldn't help but feel alone.

Thanks for reading! Sorry for any spelling/grammar/medical mistakes.