Part X

[kaylennz]

"Dean?"

No response. Just breathing. Sam knew immediately that it was another migraine. He remembered the severity of the last one well. Knew that once it progressed to a certain point Dean couldn't move, couldn't get to his medication.

"I'm on my way." Sam lowered his voice but wanted to make sure his brother heard him. "I'll be there in two minutes, Dean. Just hold on."

Sam had crawled into bed in boxers and a t-shirt. Quickly, he pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped into his sneakers. He snagged his keys off the bedside table on his way out the door. It was only then that he realized that he'd just assumed Dean was home. He prayed that was the case.

Liv's prediction for rain that morning had proven true. While he'd slept, the pale blue sky had transformed to darkened steel. A fine mist covered his windshield and the air held an energy that hinted an approaching storm.

His motel was almost exactly two miles from Dean's house. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the Impala parked in the driveway. The first thing he noticed as he stepped from the rental was the smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of distant thunder. Dean had managed to get his mowing done before the rain.

The door was unlocked. Sam let himself in. A sweet aroma and a warm light drew him to the kitchen. The island where they'd eaten pancakes that morning was covered in flour. A bowl full of cookie batter sat next to a cooling rack of chocolate chip cookies. The oven was on. Sam shut it off, cracked the door and hurried on.

The living room was dark and empty. He headed up the stairs and didn't have to go far before he found what he was looking for. Dean had made it to the top of the landing before pain had immobilized him. Stepping over Dean's feet as he crested the landing, Sam paused to assess the situation. Dean lay on his stomach, cradling his head, holding himself perfectly still. On the floor at his right shoulder sat Isabella and Spooky. Both looked up at him with huge expectant eyes, but remained surprisingly calm. Sam noticed that one of Isabella's small hands rested on her father's shoulder.

"Okay,” Sam said, needing to take action of some kind in an effort not to feel so helpless. "Let's get you up off this floor."

When Dean actually whimpered, Sam froze, “Or not."

Okay. Straightening, Sam reassessed. First things first. Medication. Cursing himself for the minor delay, he hurried to the master bath and emptied four Imitrex into the palm of his hand, pocketing two of them. Two pills had been sufficient last time. And while this migraine appeared to be worse, Sam was not comfortable giving Dean a dosage any higher than what he had in his hand.

Sitting on the floor next to his brother, Sam carefully gripped Dean's chin. Dean opened his mouth for him automatically. Sam sighed in relief as he deposited both tablets within. Incapable of chewing the meds or the movement required to swallow, he realized that Dean would have to let them dissolve in his mouth.

Sam sat silently. Relief was on the way, but it would take time. He smiled at Isabella to let her know it would be okay. Her stoic response told him that she knew that this was not okay. There wasn't much he could say to that, but he could see in her eyes that his presence alone offered a measure of comfort.

Sam kept a close eye on his watch to measure exactly how long it took for the meds to kick in. Dean's breathing was short and shallow, every muscle in his body taut and straining as he awaited relief. Isabella's hand on his shoulder was still, unmoving, as if she knew the slightest variation in touch would exacerbate her father's pain.

They waited it out patiently over the next 20 minutes or so as the medicine worked its way through Dean's system. When he all but melted into the floor beneath him, limbs heavy and fluid, Sam placed a calming hand on Dean's back between his shoulder blades. Isabella looked up at him.

What now?

Sam gave Dean a few minutes to recover, but wanted to get his brother up and off the floor before the drugs completely overtook him.

"Come on, man,” Sam quietly encouraged. "Let’s get you to your room."

"No." Dean's voice was faint, breathless, cheek resting on the hardwood floor. "I'm good...jus’...leave...me..."

Sam was somewhat prepared for the response. "I think Isabella would be more comfortable in the bedroom than on the floor, Dean."

The gentle reminder worked. Sam saw Dean seek Isabella's knee and give it a squeeze even has he sighed at the thought of moving. Sam waited for a sign that Dean was ready and hoped that his brother didn't take too long. The meds were fast acting and he knew Dean would be down for the count soon. He wasn’t averse to carrying his brother once he was out, knew that it would likely be easier on Dean that way, but it would be a little traumatic for Isabella, he thought.

Dean slowly shifted, putting his palms flat on the floor, every movement carefully precise as he pushed slowly to his hands and knees. Isabella removed her hand but stayed close to Dean's side.

"Okay, just take it slow and easy." Sam waited for a cue from Dean, deciding it didn't matter if he hovered or not, Dean's eyes were closed anyway.

"Dean?" Sam prompted after a few minutes when Dean didn't move. "Come on, man. I've got you."

Sam wrapped his large hands around Dean's biceps for support, urging his brother to ease back to his knees. Slow and controlled as the movement was, Dean immediately grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt with a low moan. Sam froze as Dean breathed through a wave of nausea, swallowing convulsively. He watched as his brother lowered his head, chin to chest, fighting the urge to vomit.

"You've got it," Sam encouraged softly, one hand sliding from Dean's arm to the back of his neck. "Take your time. Just breathe through it."

Sam's eyes flickered to a concerned Isabella. He'd thrown up on Dean more than once growing up and figured Dean more than owed him one, but for Isabella's sake he seriously hoped that now was not payback time. Talk about traumatic.

"It's okay, sweetie,” Sam said to Isabella, but she didn't look overly convinced.

The reassurance to Isabella had the opposite effect on Dean. His grip on Sam's shirt tightened and Sam could feel the muscles tensing beneath his touch.

"She's fine, Dean." Sam's thumb unconsciously stroked the soft hair at the nape of his brother's neck, soothing with touch as well as words. "A little worried, but she's doing okay." He followed the comment with a wink in Isabella's direction.

She stood next to them, almost the same height as Dean on his knees. Isabella held Spooky in her arms, but adjusted her hold so she could place a hand high on Dean's back, giving him an awkward and adorable pat of comfort. Sam thought he saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch at that.

Dean took a few long deep breaths and let them out slowly. Sam let him have the time, knowing that getting Dean to his feet was going to be even harder on him.

"You ready?" He asked when he felt Dean lean into him just a little.

"Yeah," Dean's voice was whisper soft and resigned as he released his hold.

"Let me do most of the work, okay?" Sam moved in closer, threading his arms under Dean’s. The embrace brought them chest to chest as Sam locked his hands between his brother's shoulder blades.

Dean's breathing changed and he tensed in anticipation.

"Relax," Sam said, "we're gonna do this nice and easy."

Dean huffed in a yeah, easy for you to say way.

"On three," Sam warned as he readied himself to bring them both to their feet. Needing to anchor himself to something, Dean's arms wrapped around him and fisted into the back of his shirt.

"One. Two." Sam's grip tightened and he pulled Dean to his feet in one steady, fluid movement as the final number left his lips. "Three."

Dean groaned, his head dropping forward to rest on Sam's shoulder. While his feet were firmly under him, Sam widened his stance to support a good part of his brother's weight.

"I've got you." Sam let the curve of his jaw rest on the soft bristle of Dean's hair. He could feel each warm exhalation of breath through his shirt as Dean panted through another dizzying wave of nausea. "We're gonna wait right here until you're ready to move."

Isabella stepped back out of the way, her neck craned as she looked up at them. Spooky didn't look very comfortable in the grasp she held him in. His ears were pressed back flat against his head and Sam suspected the feline was awaiting the first opportunity that presented itself to flee his restrictive confines.

For a long stretch of minutes, Sam just held Dean. Enjoyed the solid, sleepy warmth of firm muscle and the steady rhythmic echo of Dean's heartbeat next to his. Could practically feel the edge of consciousness blurring as he took more and more of Dean's weight.

"Okay,” Sam said when he had to step back with his left foot to brace himself. He looked down the hall. Dean's room was about 15 paces straight ahead for him. For Dean, it would be a backward journey. "Let's just take this one step at a time. Nice and easy. Left foot first."

The medication had taken care of the pain, but its wake had left Dean weak and uncoordinated. He was completely dependent upon Sam to get him to where he needed to be. Sam kept up a constant litany of left, right and almost there in his brother's ear as he guided him to his room.

About half way there, Dean let Sam know he was still with it enough for barely audible commentary, "...sucks, man."

"Yeah,” Sam agreed with a small sympathetic smile. While he was enjoying the contact and the opportunity to help, he knew how much Dean hated being incapacitated. It left him vulnerable in a way he never did deal with very well. Some things never changed.

Sam was aware of Isabella quietly trailing them. She hadn't spoken a word since he’d arrived. He was a little concerned about that but knew it would have to wait. He would have Dean settled soon, then he'd have plenty of time to focus on his niece.

"One more step, man. We're almost there." They took another coordinated step, Sam's left foot moving forward, Dean's right foot moving back until they were flush with the side of the bed. Dean's head was heavy on his shoulder and Sam was pretty sure he was supporting about 80 percent of his brother’s weight.

He almost over balanced as he shifted Dean's weight back to ease him down onto the bed. His brother didn't even flinch. Sam hoped that meant that the worse part of the nausea had passed. By this time, Dean was almost out and Sam carefully guided him back to the pillows. They both breathed a sigh of relief at the exact same time and Sam caught the fleeting edge of a smile that matched his own at the synchronicity.

Isabella had gone around to the other side of the bed and was climbing up next to her father even as Dean blindly reached for her. She curled up next to him with her head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around her. When Spooky tried to extricate himself, Isabella finally released him from the strangle hold she'd had him in. The little black cat put some safe distance between them and then shook off the indignity of being manhandled, the tag on his collar jingling softly.

Sam could tell by Dean's breathing and the flutter of dark lashes on pale skin that he was still awake and he suspected the little form curled up next to him had something to do with that.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to them. "I'll take care of her, I promise."

The hand that wasn't wrapped around Isabella reached in the direction of his voice. Sam caught it in both of his, unfazed by appearances at this point. Dean's grip was strong, grateful, and a little desperate.

"It's okay." Sam's thumb stroked over the ridge of knuckles in his grip. It wasn’t okay. It was far from okay. But it was what Dean needed to hear. Later they would worry about what could have happened and what they were going to do about it. For now, though, only two things mattered and they were right there with him. "She's safe, Dean. Sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

His brother took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dean's hand rested low on Isabella's hip where she was tucked up against him. His thumb caressed a small patch of skin on her side where her shirt had ridden up. It was the only reassurance he was capable of giving her in the seconds before the grip in Sam's hand went lax and he drifted off.

Sam watched him breathe for a moment, Isabella's head on his chest moving in tandem with each breath. The sound of steady rain permeated his senses. Peripherally, he had been aware of the building storm but was so focused on Dean that he hadn't paid it much mind. It was harder to ignore now. Isabella's eyes widened at a flash of lightening that illuminated the otherwise dimly lit room. The rumbling roll of thunder that followed had Spooky scrambling from the room as if he were on fire and Isabella pressing closer to Dean's side.

"It's okay, Sunshine,” Sam said warmly, his voice low and soothing. "Just a summer storm. It will pass."

She blinked up at him uncertainly, eyes heavy. Sam ran a hand over her curls and down the side of her face. "Tired?"

Isabella shook her head in denial though her eyes stayed fixed on Sam. He looked around the room until he spotted a throw. Covering her gently with it, he tucked it around her small body hoping the added warmth would lull her to sleep. After removing Dean's work boots and socks he did the same for his brother, aware that Isabella tracked every movement with a hooded gaze. When he was done, Sam pulled the chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat down, taking hold of Dean's hand again.

"Are you going to take care of my daddy?" Isabella asked sleepily.

Sam looked into deep green, innocent eyes. "I’m going to take care of both of you."

Her response was another long, slow blink. Isabella boldly held Sam's gaze until finally she too drifted reluctantly into sleep. Her breathing evened out almost immediately.  Sam shook his head affectionately and looked at Dean.

She's got your stubborn streak, man. Good luck with that a few years down the road.

Sam listened to the rain as he held Dean's hand in both of his. With his thumbs he lightly traced each individual finger from palm to tip. For the first time since he put this plan into motion, Sam was beginning to question whether or not he was doing the right thing. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Dean's migraines were connected to Sam's sudden reappearance in his life.

There’s no telling how his subconscious will respond to your presence.

Sam could admit now that he'd taken John's warning far too lightly. So caught up in what he wanted, Sam hadn't really thought much beyond the immediate desire to be a part of Dean's life.

Isabella flinched in her sleep as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Sam's large, gentle hand smoothed tendrils of spun gold from her face and she settled once again. Eyes closed Sam tilted his face to the heavens.

Tell me I'm doing the right thing.

The corresponding flash of lightning could be interpreted a variety of ways.

With a deep sigh, Sam put his doubts on hold. It was too late for second guesses. His plans from this point on could be altered if necessary, but he couldn't undo what had already been done. Nor would he want to. More than anything he wanted to be a part of Dean and Isabella's life - and if the last few months were all he ever had, then there was no room for regret.

Sam's mind instead turned to the glimpse he'd seen into his brother's marriage. Jenna had tamed Dean in a way that Sam never would have thought possible. Granted, she had an edge with the amnesia, but despite that, Sam was willing to give credit where it was due. Dean was the center of her universe and Jenna had taken great pains to make sure that he knew it. And better yet, she never let him shy away from it. Watching Dean respond to her love with such open vulnerability had been a privilege...one that Sam was ashamed to admit that he may have taken advantage of.

Feeling a little guilty, Sam's eyes flickered to Dean. He hadn't planned on overstepping. When the DVD they'd watched last night reached its end, Sam had removed it, intending only to replace the disk back in its case. Instead he'd found himself loading another into the player.

He knew from experience, years of sleeping in the same room that Dean was out and likely wouldn't wake unless roused. His brother had always been a sound sleeper when in safe mode. To his credit, Sam did hesitate. It felt wrong, but in the end, the opportunity had proven entirely too irresistible. Unfortunately, guilt had taken its toll and Sam ended up skipping through a lot of it, stopping only when a particular scene caught his attention.

A very pregnant Jenna was more than worthy of a pause. Sam watched her curiously for a few long minutes before he realized that she was attempting to paint her toe nails. It had actually been quite comical until, frustrated, she had burst into tears. The picture jarred when the camera was set quickly aside and Dean appeared at her side.

Dean just knelt there on the floor next to her. Held her until the worst of it passed. Smiled at the charming mixture of pride and embarrassment she didn't even try to hide. Wiped away the moisture on her face with the pads of this thumbs. The look in his eyes telling her over and over again just how beautiful she was to him.

They didn't speak. They didn't need to. There was just so much love there between them that it nearly put a lump in Sam's throat.

He'd watched as Dean sat on the floor at Jenna's feet and picked up the bottle of polish. The intense look of concentration on his brother’s face as he carefully painted each nail rivaled the steely eyed gaze that many a spirit once faced at the business end of a sawed-off. Sam smiled at the comparison, even as it gave him butterflies. Jenna ran her fingers through Dean's hair, tips softly combing the velvet growth at the nape of his neck. It was a beautiful moment of quiet intimacy between husband and wife.

Sam skipped ahead a few scenes.

Dean was sound asleep on his back and quite obviously nude beneath ivory sheets pooled at his waist. One leg was bared, the other bent and canted under the bedding as the camera lovingly traced the lean length of his body. It was a Sunday afternoon in late November nearly four years ago according to the time stamp at the bottom of the screen.

There was a faint sigh behind the camera. "There are some days I still can't believe you're mine, baby." Jenna's voice barely audible as she focused on Dean's lax face, words turning reverent. "Look at you."

Sam knew exactly what she saw. Dean always looked softer, younger, more innocent when he slept. Like the hard edges of life had yet to touch him. Pale shafts of sunshine crept through curtains and bathed his profile in golden light. How someone with such a devilish nature could look so damn angelic was beyond him.

Dean shifted minutely, away from the sun. The change in his breathing told Sam he was close to waking. The arm closest to the camera stretched over Dean's head and disappeared under the pillow before settling again. Sam wondered if Jenna had any idea those fingers were curling around the hilt of a memory she could never hope to understand.

Dean took a deep breath, arching his back and doing a full body stretch. Brow furrowed at the sun on his face, he shifted his head to a shaded part of the pillow and cracked an eye in Jenna's direction. One brow arched in surprise at the camera then bounced suggestively.

Jenna's laugh was music and every line of Dean's body responded. "Behave," she said. "This is for mama's collection not ours."

Dean was not deterred, his grin sexy and slow. "We could always delete it later."

"We could," Jenna said playfully, "but it'd be our luck I'd go into labor and we'd forget all about it. Mama loves you baby, but I don't think she's quite ready to see that side of you."

Dean's smile changed and he reached out to Jenna. The camera angled down to where his hand rested on the swell of her belly. Jenna's hand settled over his. She was wearing one of Dean's t-shirts.

"How's our baby girl doing?" Dean asked, thumb lightly stroking.

"I think she likes it in there." Jenna responded. "No sign that she's ready to join us out here yet. Not even a twinge."

Dean made a thoughtful noise. "Maybe we should do it again."

Jenna chuckled. "Dr. Herley said sex could stimulate labor, Honey. It's not a guarantee”.

"Does that mean we can't do it again?" Dean asked.

The camera slid away and all Sam could see was bedding, like Jenna was no longer paying attention to what she was filming. He heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss.

"Oh, no." Jenna's voice was a low purr full of promise. "It doesn't mean that at all baby."

Sam skipped a head a few more scenes.

Jenna was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. She looked exhausted, in pain, and 5 foot 6 inches worth of someone Sam wouldn't dream of tangling with. Dean was seated behind her, massaging her lower back. Jenna glared at the camera.

“Mama, if you don't get that camera out of my face..."

Jenna left it hanging. Dean looked at Liv apologetically over Jenna's shoulder but wisely remained silent. The camera shut off.

When it powered back up the doctor was there and it looked like they were getting ready for delivery. Sam hit skip several times. He had no idea how graphic the recording would be - and he didn’t want to find out. While birth was beautiful in theory, he was in no way prepared to be confronted with the reality. Just…no.

He watched as Isabella was brought home from the hospital and skipped through several scenes where she was either sleeping or kicking her feet and waving her little arms about. She was pink, wrinkly and absolutely adorable. What little hair she had was so fine and light she looked bald.

Sam remembered Liv mentioning once that Isabella and Dean shared a connection right from birth. It was obvious in several little scenes with just the two of them, but never more so than in the final captured moment of the DVD.

Sam could hear movement in the dark, was beginning to see the faint outline of shadows on the screen. Jenna whispered a curse after a muted thump, and yeah, Sam was willing to bet she picked that one up from Dean. It was lighter outside than in and Sam could now make out the familiar kitchen as the camera caught the time on the microwave. It was 1:03 a.m. Jenna unlatched the storm window on the back door and slid it up with a little snick as she shushed herself.

A full moon cast an ethereal blue glow over everything the back yard. Dean stood at its center as big, fluffy flakes of snow fell in a curtain of beauty all around him. Isabella was in his arms, swaddled six ways to Sunday. Dean had a blanket over his shoulder and arm, the material forming a tent over Isabella's face that sheltered her from the cool snow but allowed father and daughter access to gaze at one another.

Sam could hear the cadence of Dean's voice as Jenna zoomed in on them. He couldn’t make out what his brother was saying but his heart warmed at the gentle tone. Dean was in profile but Jenna managed to capture Isabella's rapt expression as she studied Dean's face, soaking up every syllable with wide eyes and little o-shaped mouth.

At one point Dean looked up, eyes fluttering closed as flakes settle on his face and caught on those ridiculously long lashes. Sam'd never seen his brother so at peace. It was a beautiful sight. Never one to be at a loss for words, Dean carried on the one sided conversation with ease for several minutes before wandering back towards the house. Almost to the door, he’d yet to notice Jenna's presence.

"Dean," There's several different shades of adoration in Jenna's voice as she says his name. Startled, but pleased by her sudden presence, Dean smiles into the camera.

"It's Izzy B's first snowfall. She insisted I introduce her to the flakes"

"She did, did she?" Jenna was happy to play along.

"Isn't that right, darlin'?" Dean looked down at Isabella, lightly trailing the tip of his finger over her tiny chin. Glancing back at Jenna he confided, "She's actually quite the negotiator."

"Who needs to negotiate when they've got the most handsome daddy in the world wrapped around their pudgy little finger?" Jenna countered.

Dean blinked at her; all innocent 'I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about'.

Yeah, like he was fooling anyone.

Sam smiled at the memory, flicked his gaze to father and daughter only to find Isabella watching him quietly.

"Hey,” he said softly, checking his watch. She'd slept just over half an hour.

It was still raining, but the thunder had moved on for now. Despite looking drowsy and comfortable, Isabella sat up and rubbed her eyes before pushing the covers away.

"Do you need something, sweetie?" Sam asked as she moved to the edge of the bed. He was really not quite sure what to do with a three year old.

She watched Sam in silence as she made her way to the attached bathroom. He wasn’t quite sure if she was fully awake. His mouth twitched at the I'm-glad-you're-here-but-you're-so-not-the-boss-of-me look on her face as she closed the door behind her.

"Okay,” he said to no one in particular, but gave Dean that look again. Boy, are you gonna have your hands full, bro.

Once finished with her urgent business, Isabella made a beeline back to the bed. Instead of lying down, she sat with her legs tucked under her at Dean's side, watching him. Sam had never seen her this quiet. She was like Dean in that respect, always either chattering or moving about in some fashion. It didn't seem natural that she was so still.

It was nearing five o'clock. Sam hadn't eaten since that morning's pancake breakfast and his stomach was on the verge of a rather embarrassing growl.

"Are you hungry, Sunshine?" He asked.

Isabella looked at him, hesitated and then nodded in the affirmative.

"Me too,” he confided. "How about I see if I can rustle us up for some grub?"

Sam's eyes softened as he saw the flash of anxiety flicker across her delicate features. It was obvious that she didn't want to leave Dean's side. And that was okay, because Sam had an idea.

"I don't know about you," Sam leaned forward a little as if sharing a secret, "but I'm in the mood for a picnic."

Isabella looked at him oddly, brows bouncing to her hairline in a move so reminiscent of Dean that Sam just blinked at her in awe. Her gaze swept to the window, subtly reminding him of the rain.

Sam smiled and said, "Trust me."

It was a small but thrilling victory when she returned his smile and Sam realized that just maybe she did.

-wWw-

Sam surveyed the contents of Dean’s refrigerator and cupboards and decided that one really couldn’t go wrong with peanut butter and jelly. It was also a quick fix that fit the bill perfectly as he wanted to get back to Isabella as soon as possible. He made one sandwich for his niece and two for him, because yeah, he was hungry. He poured them both a glass of milk and snagged a couple of apples from the bowl on the counter. A quick search of the pantry yielded a try on which to put everything. A couple more items and he was good to go.

Isabella was exactly where he'd left her. Her eyes lit up as he entered, and he could have been wrong, but Sam suspected it wasn't just because of the food he brought with him. He set the tray down in the chair by the bed and folded Isabella's discarded throw. The towel draped over his arm he laid out on the unoccupied end of Dean's queen sized bed. It just wouldn't do to get jam on the bedding, and if Isabella was anything like Dean it was all but a certainty that it would end up somewhere it shouldn't.

Sam set the tray at the end of the bed and made sure it was stable. He'd brought a glass of water for Dean, remembering how thirsty the medication had made him last time. Setting it on the nightstand next to the bed, he adjusted the covers and let the back of his hand rest lightly on Dean's cheek. Satisfied that his brother was warm and comfortable, Sam focused his attention on Isabella.

While dusk was still a couple of hours away, the overcast sky and rain made the room darker than it would normally be. He crossed the room and turned on the lamp next to the window. It cast a soft glow for them to see by without disturbing Dean. Sam was pleased to note that Isabella had carefully scooted her way to the end of the bed and seemed to be waiting for him to settle.

Sam moved his chair to the end of the bed and sat opposite Isabella with the tray between them. He offered her a sandwich, a cup of milk and one of the apples, but noticed her eyeing the small dish of chocolate chip cookies he'd added as an after thought.  Thankfully, it appeared to be a given that she had to eat her meal before indulging, because really, Sam didn't think he'd be able to refuse her anything at this point.

They ate in companionable silence. Isabella quietly amazed at just how quickly Sam inhaled his food, Sam in turn amazed at just how much his tiny niece was able to put away. It may have taken her longer, but she ate everything he put in front of her, including two of the cookies.

After he took the tray back down to the kitchen Sam stopped at her room on the way back and grabbed some coloring books, crayons, a stuffed animal that was sitting on her bed and some story books.

Over the course of the next hour, Isabella slowly reverted back to the chatty animated child that Sam knew her to be. She lay on her stomach, feet in the air as she colored and shared her crayons with Sam. They worked in silence for a time, each with their own book, Isabella often glancing over at his work. Sam colored the picture of his Care Bear like he did most everything else, with careful precision.

When Sam noticed a pinched expression on her face, he paused to ask, “Is there something wrong?”

A brief struggle played out on her face before Isabella apparently decided she just could not keep her comment to herself. “That’s Funshine Bear,” she said as if that explained everything.

Sam looked at the picture of his partially colored bear and then back to her with a yeah, so expression that she apparently understood.   She flipped the coloring book closed, Sam’s hand marking his page as she pointed to one of the brightly colored Care Bears on the front. “He’s supposed to be yellow,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. He thought about explaining how it really didn’t matter what color he used and that it was all about creativity and imagination…but then he remembered that when he was a child he absolutely hated it when people colored outside of the lines. Hated it! Instead he said, “It won’t happen again.”

Once Isabella had gauged his sincerity she pointedly handed him a red crayon. Sam glanced down at the picture again and nodded. The least he could do was make sure poor little Funshine had the right color baseball cap.  The exchange seemed to break the ice and open a floodgate of mostly one-sided conversation as they finished their coloring.

Isabella talked about her friends at Miss Chloe's, planting flowers with grandma Liv, Spooky's litter box lessons and how she really wanted a pet penguin to keep in the bathtub. Sam laughed bright and loud at the pouty, "Daddy said no." Dean shifted at the sound and Isabella just looked at him, perplexed. Sam listened to her random comments with amusement as she jumped from topic to topic...God, she really was just like Dean.

Just before seven Sam made another trip back to Isabella's room for her PJs. She sent him back three times before he finally got the yellow Tinkerbell nightie with the sparkles on the wings, as opposed to the green Tinkerbell with the sparkly flowers or the pink Tinkerbell with no sparkles. He was on the verge of bringing the entire drawer to her if she sent him back again when she gave him the smile, the kind usually reserved for Dean or Liv. And yeah, he'd easily make a hundred more trips for another one of those.

Around seven-thirty, Isabella crawled into Sam's lap with all three of the story books he'd brought from her room. He held her carefully as she looked up at him with large trusting eyes, and he wondered if on some level, she realized what a privilege this was for him - just to be able to hold her like this. His reverie must have lasted just a tad too long because the look on her face turned impatient and she tapped the book in his hand with her index finger and a raised brow.

As Sam opened the book, Dean made a soft sleepy noise in the back of his throat and turned his head away from the light. Both Isabella and Sam looked at him hopefully and waited. When it became clear that Dean wasn't quite ready to wake, they shared a disappointed glance and then settled in for a story.

Sam read all three books, twice, before tucking Isabella in at Dean's side and covering her again with the throw. She blinked at him, tired. He was just thinking about whether or not he should have had her brush her teeth when Dean's cell went off. He recognized Liv's ring tone immediately and followed the sound out into the hall, eventually finding it on the floor at the top of the stairs, where it had been kicked into a corner out of sight.

"Hey, Liv."

There was a beat of silence, then a worried, "Sam?"

"Yeah.” There was only one reason he'd be answering Dean's phone and they both knew it. His voice was full of calm reassurance as he explained what happened.

"I'm just getting back to town now,” Liv said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Isabella was finally sleeping by the time Sam heard Liv pull into the driveway, while Dean was beginning to surface, his body responding with a small flinch as the front door slammed behind Liv and she hurried up the stairs. Sam stood as she entered the room.

"How is he?" Liv asked as she leaned over Dean and pressed her hand to the side of his face.

Sam didn't miss the fact that Dean turned his head towards the sound of her voice. "Waking. He's been out for hours."

He was heartened when Dean seemed to respond to his voice as well. Within moments, dark lashes began to flutter and limbs sluggishly stirred. Dean opened his eyes slowly and blinked at Sam and Liv for several seconds before they drooped closed again.

"Dean?" Liv asked trying to get his attention. "You with us, honey?"

"Dean, hey," Sam tried when there was no response to Liv's query. "How’re you feeling, man?"

Dean opened his eyes and met Sam's concerned gaze. It took a few moments for awareness to bleed through as he looked back and forth between Sam and Liv. When it did, confusion quickly turned to panic and Dean surged from the bed, "Isabella!"

It took him a second to realize that she was right there next to him. Startled awake by Dean's cry and the sudden jostling, Isabella looked up at him with large frightened eyes.

"Oh, God, oh, baby, I'm sorry." Dean slid his hands under her arms and pulled her into his lap. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." So sorry I scared you, baby. Isabella wrapped her arms tight around Dean's neck as he rocked. "I'm sorry."

As Dean reacted to Isabella's fear, Liv reacted to his. She sat on the bed behind him with her hands on both his shoulders, visibly affected by Dean's upset state. It was another of those moments when Sam was reminded that he was the outsider. He stood there awkwardly, hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans. Feeling suddenly intrusive, he made to leave the room.

He'd taken two steps when Dean’s hand wrapped around his arm just above his wrist. Sam looked down in surprise and saw the same expression quickly hidden on Liv's face. Dean never diverted his attention from Isabella, but he gently tugged on Sam until he sat down on the bed next to them. Sam balanced himself on the bed by placing a palm on the mattress between Dean's outstretched legs. He met Liv's gaze steadily, feeling the weight of her stare over Dean's shoulder.

He wasn't sure what she saw on his face, but her gaze softened and she held her hand out to him. When he took it, she smiled.

-wWw-

Dean was not at church the following day. Not a total surprise given the events of yesterday. But what really bothered Sam was that both Liv and Isabella were not in attendance either. In a continuation of his thoughts from yesterday, Sam spent most of the day questioning his decision to remain in Dean's life. He wanted, more than anything, to have a life with Dean. But it seemed that his very presence was causing his brother pain. He had to make a decision. Tell Dean the truth and deal with the fall out...or leave and give Dean back the life he'd created with Jenna, a life that did not include Sam Winchester.

Goddamn - he hated like hell that John may have been right all along.

Around six o'clock Liv called him on his cell. "Hello."

"We missed you at dinner, Sam." Liv started. "Did you get my voicemail?"

"Ah," Sam was startled to realize how late it was. "No?" Sam guiltily avoided his voicemail these days. There were too many messages from John that he'd yet to return.

"We had an early barbecue. Dean and Isabella have already headed home. Plenty of leftovers...I sent yours home with Dean if you want to stop by and pick them up..." Liv trailed off and Sam wondered why the conversation suddenly seemed so stilted.

"Thanks." Sam didn't know what else to say.  "Sorry I missed it."

"Sam..." He'd never heard his name so loaded before. Liv obviously had something on her mind. He held his breath as she hesitated and then sighed. "Dean really needs our support. He could use a friend right now...if you're available."

While that may have been true, Sam got the feeling that is not what Liv had intended to say to him.

"He hasn't called,” Sam pointed out feeling irrationally sensitive and drained from a full day's worth of doubting every decision he'd made where Dean is concerned.

"Does he need to?" Liv's response was pointed, knowing in a way that Sam wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"No," he conceded.

"He's scared, Sam. Yesterday was the first time since the migraines returned that Isabella was in potential danger. Granted, it's likely she never would have left his side, but just the thought of her sitting there alone, for hours, waiting for Dean to wake up..." Liv swallowed her voice unsteady. Obviously Dean wasn't the only one scared.

"You remember what I told you about the medication?" Sam remembered well. It had given him pause when he'd left Isabella with Dean yesterday while he gathered food for their picnic. The thought of Dean going into convulsions because he hadn’t gotten to his meds was bad enough, but for Isabella to witness that...

Lost in thought, Sam didn't realize that he hadn't answered Liv until she spoke again.

"He reached out to you, Sam."

"What?" Sam felt like he was missing something.

"Dean didn't call me, Sam. He called you." Liv pointed out. "When he needed help, you were the first person he thought to call."

Sam was thoughtful. "He knew you were in Millidge. I was a logical second choice."

"Actually, Rand would have been a logical second choice. He bypassed both of us and went straight to you." Liv's voice was neutral. "Why do you think that is?"

Sam tamped down on the flutter of hope in his belly and responded with, “Why do you think that is?"

"Dean feels connected to you, Sam. I don't think he entirely understands why...but it's there. I can see it in the way he looks at you sometimes."

Surprised by her observation, Sam swallowed.

"Sam,” Liv’s voice went soft, encouraging. "Go to him, please."

"Yeah,” As if there were any doubt that he would. "I'm on my way."

"He said something about taking Isabella to the park. If they're not home, try there."

Before she could hang up, Sam spoke again, "Hey, Liv." A small pause to let his voice convey all the gratitude he felt. "Thanks."

-wWw-

Sam rang the bell again, turning to look at the Impala parked in the driveway. With a final knock he walked back to his car and drove the short distance to the park a few blocks away. It was just before dusk on Sunday evening. The sun had dipped low enough to linger behind the trees at the edge of the clearing, casting long shadows over the playground. Dean and Isabella were the only ones there.

Isabella giggled as she dropped the leash to Spooky's harness and allowed him a couple of bounces away from her before she retrieved it. Both cat and child thoroughly enchanted with their little game. Dean sat on a bench nearby, watching. He looked exhausted.

"Sam!" Isabella noticed him first. She ran to him as he approached, dragging poor Spooky along for the ride as she hugged his leg.

Sam crouched down in front of her as she released him. "Hey there, Sunshine. I missed you today."

She gave him the smile again, the one that reached her eyes and twinkled back at him. "You missed dinner,” Isabella informed him unnecessarily, then, "Daddy was worried."

Sam immediately glanced over at Dean, who somehow managed to be looking right at him but not meeting his gaze. He brought his attention back to his niece, repeating the same words he'd said to Liv earlier. "Sorry I missed it."

"That's okay,” Isabella said. "We saved you some...all 'cept the tato salad." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she finished, "Daddy really likes tato salad."

Sam chuckled and could feel Dean's smile as he released Isabella. He watched her play with Spooky for a minute before joining Dean on the bench and getting a closer look at his brother.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked.

"A little." Dean's head was lowered, looking down at the bench between them instead of at Sam. His voice sounded off.

"Hey,” Sam ducked his head, trying to catch Dean's gaze. "You okay?"

Dean didn't respond at first, but Sam could see the fine play of muscles around his mouth as he pursed his lips. Sam fought the urge to reach over and lift his chin.

"Dean?"

From beneath a sweep of thick, brown lashes, Dean met his gaze. The I'm fine mask Sam had expected was nowhere to be seen. What he saw instead, what Dean allowed him to see, was the fear and uncertainty that Sam knew he had to be struggling with.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Sam." Dean's voice was as broken as Sam had ever heard it.

Because Sam wasn't entirely certain as to what Dean was referring, he remained silent. Dean looked over at Isabella as she played with Spooky, chasing after and missing the leash as the little black cat dodged away from her.

"I'm all she has left. If I can't take care of her..." When Dean's breath actually hitched, Sam felt his eyes water in response.

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to point out he had both Liv and himself as a support system, but he knew that's not what Dean meant. Isabella had already lost one parent, and even though what Dean was experiencing wasn't necessarily fatal, it could seriously hamper his ability to care for her.

"If you hadn't been there yesterday..." Dean turned his head away, unable to continue for a moment. "I just keep thinking of all the things that could have happened if she were alone the entire time I was unconscious."

Sam looked away to give his brother some privacy, watched Isabella chase Spooky towards the tree line.

"Izzy B,” Dean voiced a steady command to stray no further. It always amazed Sam, that invisible bubble of distance between the two that seemed to be so instinctual. Sam had seen it work both ways, though he observed that Isabella seemed a little more comfortable pushing the amount of distance between them than Dean did.

Isabella understood the order without more being said. She caught Spooky up in her arms and headed back towards the benches, stopping about half way. Dean watched her thoughtfully.

"What if somebody had come to the door, Sam?" Dean suddenly asked. "Someone could have taken her and I wouldn't have known for hours."

Whoa. Talk about worse case scenario. And one that Sam hadn't even considered. He could tell by the very real anguish in Dean's voice that his brother had not only considered it, but had likely thought about all the potentially vile reasons for which someone would want to do that. Sam just barely stopped himself from shuddering.

Okay, this wasn't doing anybody any good at all.

"That didn't happen, Dean. Thank God it didn't happen." Sam tried to point out the positive. "She's fine, Dean. No worse for the wear. Look at her."

They watched together as Spooky and Isabella inadvertently slanted a course towards the tree line again. Or perhaps not so inadvertently on Spooky's part.

"What about next time?" Dean asked, turning to meet Sam's gaze. "I wasn't even sure I should bring her here, Sam. I had to make sure I brought my meds and my cell phone before I felt comfortable leaving the house."

Sam looked away. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was hard enough knowing that his presence caused Dean physical pain with the migraines, but the obvious devastation Dean felt at the possibility of Isabella not being safe with him was more than Sam could stand. His mind flashed to the first day he'd arrived in town and tailed his brother to work. He remembered the bounce in Dean's step and the carefree, uninhibited laugh he'd shared with Liv outside of Walker's. Uncertain of his path until this very moment, Sam made his decision.

"Look, I know this isn't the best time for this,” Sam started, heart already aching but prepared to put things right for Dean, "but there's something I wanted to tell you."

The tone of his voice had Dean's attention, but Sam saw his eyes flicker to Isabella who was once again testing the limits of the bubble. His chin lifted but he refrained from calling out just as she settled to the grass with Spooky in her lap.

Dean brought his attention back to Sam with tired but focused eyes. "Sounds serious."

"Yeah,” Sam looked away again, staring out across the playground. "It's not really working out for me here, man. I think I'm going to be moving on."

The lump in Sam's throat was so big he was surprised he got the words out at all. He couldn't even look at Dean for a long moment, could feel the sheen of tears in his eyes that he knew he wouldn't be able to hide. It was the lack of any response at all that finally brought his attention back to his brother.

Dean was staring at him with wide, round eyes. Sam saw the moment that shock turned to confusion. "You're leaving?"

"I have finals to finish up at the University, but after that, yeah." Sam watched Dean's expression carefully. "It's time for me to move on." At this point Sam had no idea if leaving would change anything, but for Dean's sake he was willing to do just about anything. No matter how much it hurt. "I have to."

Sam saw the mask slide into place, but not before he caught the flash of hurt that Dean was either unwilling or unable to hide. Jaw clenched tightly, his brother turned away from him.

The incongruency of the moment jarred him. Isabella's laugh as she chased Spooky through quickly fading sunbeams, towards the tree line again, at sharp odds with the raw pain that was threatening to consume him.

"Dean." Sam's voice was a soft wash of emotion. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say; only that he had to say something. He couldn't leave things like this.

The decision was taken from him when Spooky finally reached the tree line and a familiar figure stepped from the shadows to prevent Isabella from following.

Dean was up and moving before Sam could register his shock. His brother's controlled stalk was more desperate than graceful in the attempt to reach Isabella as quickly as possible. Sam was already up and moving as Dean snatched her from the ground where she looked up at the stranger.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded, Isabella balanced on the hip furthest from perceived danger.

Son of a... Sam quickly jogged the short distance to his family. He really, really should have returned John's last three calls.

Part XI