A/N 1: this is for Pandora Jazz who wondered what happened when Bobby got home. It didn't quite go the way I expected it would.

A/N 2: I originally wrote the first chapter before episode 5.01, so of course all of this has been rendered basically AU.

A/N 3: as ever and always, thank you to everyone who reads and favorites and alerts and reviews my stories. It means more to me than I can say (as those of you still waiting for replies to your reviews can attest!)

I called Bobby and told him Sam was no longer a dying man. I mean - I might be crazy, but not crazy enough to wait for Bobby to get back early to tell him I'd been wrong about Sam being so sick and made him turn back for basically no reason. Just as soon as Sam fell back asleep on the couch, I called him.

"His fever broke, he's been sleeping most of the day. I hope you haven't gotten too far to turn around again."

"Naah, I'll come home anyway. I got enough of what I needed. I'll be there probably after dinner time."

"Okay, we'll wait for you."

"Well ain't that sweet." He said. "Since there's nowhere else for you to go while Sam is sick…"

SPN*SPN*SPN

Sam was still asleep when Bobby got back home. Which was good because it made it seem more like he was still at least a little sick and not getting better every second that Bobby was coming home early. He was still on the couch and I was at the desk, and Bobby came in carrying a paper grocery bag.

"How's he doing? Still okay?"

"Yeah. Still mostly sleeping."

"He eat?"

"No. Nothing more than painkillers and cold water."

"You eat?"

Did I eat? Did I remember? Bobby answered his own question for me.

"Supper in twenty."

And then he headed into the kitchen.

I watched Sam a few minutes, taking in his breathing, his lax limbs, his peacefulness. He didn't stop sleeping, didn't stop breathing, didn't stop not moving, so I got up from the desk and followed Bobby out to the kitchen.

"So - not swine flu?" He asked me. He hadn't thought that's what it was from the beginning.

"Guess not."

"Still something pretty nasty." He allowed. I sat at the table and Bobby got started opening some cans and pouring things into pots on his stove. Daylight was over and the kitchen light was on.

"Took eight hours for his fever to break. Said he felt like he got hit by a truck. And that's something he'd know how it felt…" I fiddled with the Campbell's Soup Kids salt and pepper shakers that were probably older than Dad would be. "He thought I was gonna - he wanted me to - put him back in the panic room."

"He thought he was going through withdrawal again." Bobby said.

"Yeah."

"And you knew he wasn't."

I shrugged. I knew Sam wasn't going through withdrawal the way I knew that he had a fever and when the fever broke. Because I knew Sam.

"Today he was just - sick. Sick and letting me help. When he was in withdrawal, he was belligerent and mouthy. "

"Hmmm…" Was Bobby's answer as he stirred pots and brought bread and butter out of his fridge. "So I guess you been in withdrawal your whole life and we just never knew it…"

I glared at him but all he did was give me a 'what?who?me?' look.

"Anyway…" I said when my glare fizzled, "Whatever it was, at least he's getting better now. When supper's ready, I'll see if he wants something to eat."

"He doesn't…" A heavy, slightly fuzzy voice said. Sam had come in the kitchen behind me. "At least nothing much…"

He looked half dead - and I've seen him completely dead, so I know what I'm talking about. He was pale and still sweaty, hunched, shivering. I stood up to give him my chair but he waved me to stay and took the next chair, closest to the wall.

"Bobby - I'm sorry I made you come back early." He said in his heavy, fuzzy voice, as he sat down.

"You didn't make me turn around…" Bobby said. "Your calm, cool, and collected brother did." He jerked a thumb at me. "I haven't heard him that frantic since you choked on that sandwich when you were ten."

I was ready to make a smart comeback but Sam leaned his head back against the wall and said,

"That's my fault. I felt so bad today, I thought I was dying."

"You feeling better now?" I asked him.

"Might even be able to take a shower. On my own…" He added like I might not get the idea already.

"Offer for the sponge bath still stands." I told him anyway. He glared at me.

"Supper'll wait 'til you have a shower." Bobby said. "It'll make y'feel better, might give you an appetite."

I thought Sam would turn him down, say he was too tired, say the shower was too far away. Or I thought he'd say 'sure, thanks' and haul himself up the stairs to the bathroom.

I didn't expect the look of surprise on his face. I didn't like the wonder in his voice.

"You'd wait for me?"

"Why not?" Bobby asked, like Sam had asked why he constantly wears a baseball cap.

"Well - 'cause - because - because…" Sam looked to me like I was going to help him out with this one.

I wasn't. I wasn't going to help him enumerate all the ways he felt worthless.

Bobby let Sam stutter on for a little while, then he pulled a chair out across from us and sat down.

"Look - we can sit here and whine and get nothing done, or we can have something to eat, get some sleep, and get started first thing in the morning taking care of this mess."

"The mess I started." Sam said.

"Sam…" Bobby started, but that seemed to be all he had at the moment because he said it again. "Sam…"

"I started it." I said. Bobby gave me a 'not helping' glare and Sammy jumped right in with 'no Dean - just no', but I knew: "I opened the first seal, so technically I started it…right?" I emphasized to my pre-law brother.

"I don't care who started it." Bobby growled. "I only care that we end it. That should be all any of us care about."

Sam and I muttered out 'yes sirs', but Bobby wasn't done.

"Listen to me, the both of you. We're all in this. I don't see a clean pair of hands among us. So I don't want to hear another word about who did what or why or how the world is coming to a screeching halt because of it. Every single hunter has done something - or a lot of somethings - they can't stand to remember, and live the rest of their lives wishing they could forget it or fix it or make amends for it."

I was thinking - and I know for sure Sam was thinking - and apparently Bobby was thinking it too because he beat us to it -

"And if even one of you says no other hunter started the Apocalypse, I'm gonna smack you both with my spatula."

"Bobby - but - " Sam of course started to say but I cut him off.

"So help me, Sam, if I get whacked with a spatula because of you -."

"Shut up." Bobby ordered and we did. "You know, for being two of the best hunters I ever met, you boys whine a lot. Now sit there and let me get supper on the table and we'll start to get this sorted out."

He went back to the stove and our supper and Sam and I waited at the table.

"It's just so hard…" Sam said after a minute or so. Bobby turned back to us.

"I know it is, kid." He said. He sounded sad. "My guess is - that's why we're in it together. You boys could drive a saint to drink sometimes -" He said that with a little more emphasis than I thought he needed. " - but there's nothing either of you have done or could do that would make me push you away, or let you walk away. Whatever happens, we take care of it. Together."

I waited for Sam to answer, and Sam wasn't saying anything.

"Kapeesh? Bobby asked. Insisted. That got him another set of 'yes sirs'. "Good. Now go take a shower and stop worrying about it. I gotta get a bigger pot out of the basement…"

He left the kitchen and I turned to Sam.

"Better do as he says. Before he threatens us with that spatula again."

"Yeah." Sam pushed himself to his feet and I stood next to him. Suddenly his eyes got wide and he grabbed the front of my shirt.

"Dean…"

"What?"

"The panic room."

For a second I didn't know what he was talking about. It hit me just as Bobby's voice did.

"DEAN?" He sounded really really pissed.

"Don't worry, Dean. I'll protect you." Sam promised. But he looked too happy to be too serious.

"DEAN WINCHESTER -WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BASEMENT?"

I knew Bobby wouldn't be mad at Sam - so I wanted him with me, wherever I was.

"Sam - run." I pushed and shoved my sick little brother to the stairs and the unreliable safety of the second floor. He was laughing, I was sweating.

"GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND STRAIGHTEN UP THIS MESS!"

The End.