What's My Name Again, Sam? by DeansBabyBird

OK so here's the final chapter which hopefully ties it all up for ya. Apologies for the delay but I've been in France for a week on holiday. Thanks as always to Lou and Kirsty for the fabulous beta and the much more you do for me, and to you guys for reviewing. Oh and a few swear words...well its been a bit of a shock for poor Dean but he's put a dollar in the swear box!

Chapter 8. Did ya get a bop on the head or something?

Dean awoke to the noise of virtual small arms fire reverberating around in his throbbing head. No, strike that! Regular ordinance wouldn't make a hunter's whole head resonate like a Taiko ensemble with possessed bachi had taken up residence! This was more like a faithful re-enactment of the battle of Trafalgar where the organisers had kindly provided the full complement of 24 pounders and the cannon were scoring broadside after broadside on the reverse of Dean's tightly closed eyelids. He groaned softly into his pillow; willing the booming to relent to a steady bass rhythm before slowly, with the caution of a man who recognised the nausea inducing effects of such a headache, flopping over onto his back.

And that was only his first big mistake of the day!

The old mattress with its lumps and bumps rubbed unmercifully at the newly sutured rips and tears in the tender skin of Dean's back, and he used his elbows to push himself quickly onto one hip, yelping in pain as he tried to hold his protesting flesh from the rough cotton.

Crap!

And that right there was his second big mistake as the movement caused his similarly sutured forearm to assault his brain with a further helping of pain messages. He dropped back onto his side on the mattress, nestling his arm into his chest and squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden and horribly urgent impulse to hurl the entire length of the room.

Sam heard his brother's muted cries and was on his feet at the same time as Bobby, fighting the older man in a Laurel and Hardy rush through the door frame in their haste for Dean's bedside.

"Dean!"

The covers were whipped back from his shaky frame and a large hand, unmistakably that of his brother, landed none too delicately on his protesting back. Dean wriggled in protest, as the strong probing fingers checked the numerous dressings that were itching at the sticky wounds that decorated the new scars on his back.

"Jeeze, Sam! Ouch, watch it will ya. That hurts!"

Dean snarked as he worked on fully opening the curling lashes that gummed his still sleepy eyes together.

"Sorry."

Sam mumbled; but Dean noted he continued with the merciless pulling and pinching at his undoubtedly mangled back, and he elbowed back with his less sore arm trying to dislodge his solicitous sibling.

"Stop it, Sammy!"

Dean growled, as his red rimmed gaze finally found focus on the worried looking hazel eyes peeping from beneath ridiculously long brown bangs. Sam held his hands up in surrender, reasonably happy that the wounds were OK and delighted to hear alertness, along with a healthy dollop of annoyance, again in Dean's voice.

"I was only trying to..."

Sam stopped then and quickly replayed Dean's response in his head. He looked at Bobby, a quizzical look on his face that the older hunter could not interpret. He turned back to the bed, the slightest hint of a smile beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

"What did you just call me, Dean?"

Dean was attempting to sit up but without much success as each movement found some new twinge of pain and which was not helping his already grouchy mood.

"What?"

Disbelieving deep green eyes flashed at Sam, the irritation in the expressive jade pools ramping up a notch as Dean saw the beginnings of his brother's smile. He looked at Bobby, his glance saying 'what is the idjit going on about?' and Bobby stepped forward smiling sympathetically as he moved to help Dean sit up. Between them, but not without considerable swearing, Dean was finally positioned in reasonable comfort against the pillows. Sam sat down next to him and Bobby straddled a straight back chair next to the bed, both hunters intent on the slightly breathless man's face. The unanticipated scrutiny was irksome, and more than a little unnerving, and Dean squirmed under the hunters' spotlight.

"So, Dean, humour me. What was it you called me just then?"

Dean scowled at his now openly smiling brother, and shook his head at Bobby, who seemed to have been infected with the same giddy, unfathomable obsession with the irrelevant.

"What the hell does it matter what I called ya? Just what is going on here, Sammy...? You're talking crazy, Bobby's grinning like a loon and the last thing I remember was ..."

Sam's laughter interrupted Dean and he stopped in mid sentence a look of confusion on his slightly hurt face as Sam and then Bobby chuckled at something that was obviously hugely amusing. The bemused hunter frowned helplessly. Clearly something was tremendously funny, so it was a real pity that Dean was not party to it, 'cause if the state he found himself in was anything to go by, he'd not been having his fair share of laughs of late.

After a long moment Sam finally pulled himself together and, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, he spoke.

"You called me Sammy. You haven't called me that in the last few days that's all. So I'm guessing that's finally, really you in there huh, Dean?"

Dean huffed out his breath in disgust, his emerald eyes flaring with shimmering sunspots of fury, as his patience was eroded by unbridled idiocy and his enthusiastically over-active pain receptors.

"Well who the hell else would it be, Sam? Oh lemme see here? Take your pick, the Easter Bunny, John Bon Jovi or how about Paris freaking Hilton huh?"

Sam burst into laughter again then, remembering the conversation with the odious Earl at the hotel, as Dean watched him with a look of consternation on his pale face.

"What has gotten into you, dude?"

Dean reached forward, feeling his sutures pull interestingly as he placed his hand on his brother's convulsing shoulder, taking in Bobby's similar giggles out of the corner of his eye.

"You're not making any sense at all, Sammy. Lemme look at ya. Are ya OK? Did you get a bop on the head or something?"

SNSNSN

Dean's head hurt and he was not the least bit surprised as he studied his huge but neatly re-sutured head wound in the bathroom mirror. It still ran from his spiked, sandy hair, right across his forehead, to terminate just above his left eye.

It was now held together by a reinstated line of a similar dozen or so little sutures; this time however they were black, and though Sam's needlepoint was practised Dean knew they would still be painful to remove.

Dean sighed, another scar for his extensive and ever increasing collection. Ah well, what was it he usually said to Sam on these occasions? Oh yeah. Chicks dig scars! He reached for his clean T-shirt and gingerly pulled it over his head, sucking air through his teeth as the dressings on his back pulled at wounds too fresh to have yet stopped throbbing. Finally dressed, he succumbed to a strong urge to give himself one last glance in the mirror, feeling creepily like he was seeing himself for the first time in a while. It was a strange, slightly disquieting feeling and a small shudder rippled through him as he turned out the bathroom light and walked back into the main room.

He was greeted by Sam and Bobby both trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably. Dean looked at their vaguely concerned but predominantly amused faces and rolled his emerald eyes. He tried to ignore their stares and walked to the bed; sitting down with care; mindful of his torn back, as he reached for his socks.

"So, Dean..."

He looked up from his half clad foot, into Sam's laughing gaze, caution on his wary face as he raised his eyes in question.

"What, Sam?"

"Do you remember anything of the last few days?"

Dean frowned as he concentrated; the involuntary spasm of brow muscles tensing the row of tight sutures there; making them itch and he brushed his hand absently at them. But the snark of the sutures was nothing compared to the disquiet caused by the 'payback's a bitch' look that Sam was fighting to keep from his unconvincing effort at a neutral face. Dean played for time by studying the slow slide of his less than white sock onto his foot and glancing sideways at Bobby. He found no reassurance there either; the amusement that made Dean feel like he was somehow due for an unmerciful ribbing, mirrored on the grizzled face of the older hunter.

"It's a bit sketchy and confused. I remember being on the hunt with you and that son of a bitch tossing me the length of the room, Sam. And I'm assuming that's how I got this?"

Dean waved a sock covered hand in the general direction of his head, making slightly nervous eye contact with his smugly content brother.

"Uh huh!"

Sam nodded.

"What else?"

Dean shoved his toes into his second sock, scanning the room for his boots.

"And I remember last night and this time it was a freaking vampire tossing me through the air and busting my head open again!"

"And in between that?"

Sam handed him his boots and Dean shoved his foot into the scruffy leather.

"Well like I said, it's kinda fuzzy..."

Dean paused, a look of total disbelief on his puzzled face.

"Sam! Just what the hell are you doing?"

Sam started and followed Dean's wide green eyes down his long leg to his foot and the boot that Sam was carefully tying the laces of. Sam smiled sheepishly and dropped his hands as Dean pulled his foot further back towards himself, possessively reclaiming the laces and the task of dressing himself.

"Well, you kinda needed a bit of help with that over the last few days..."

"Yeah, Sam. Sure!"

Dean snorted and looked towards Bobby, a look that said 'shithead' on his handsome face. The old hunter nodded slowly confirming Sam's statement, his blue grey eyes effectively dissipating the confidence in Dean's retort. Vivid green eyes that were suddenly slightly wider switched back to amused hazel, fingers paused in mid bow and loop.

"You kidding me, Sam?"

"Nope!"

Sam shook his head slowly, his long hair sweeping at the nape of his neck, tickling distractingly.

"Actually Dean, you couldn't even remember you needed to put your boots on to go out in the snow."

Dean snorted again but this time with less assuredness; as his eyes snook another shifty sideways glance at Bobby, the older man's affirming nod disquieting him a little further. Sam's soft voice drew him back.

"In fact..."

Sam's smile drew out the now well established squirm factor making Dean's gut begin to churn.

"Even when it dawned on ya that boots and 10 degree below temperatures kinda went together, you still couldn't quite fathom which boot went on which foot!"

Sam watched a slight wince of embarrassment and partial remembrance cross Dean's face and he smiled wickedly.

Dean hurriedly finished tying his lace, eager to change the subject. Only to have the knot fail and Sam laughingly reach for the laces. Dean shifted his foot quickly off the bed and rose to stand, his slightly jittery stance betraying his nervousness, which Bobby and Sam's look of amusement did nothing to help. He clumsily went for a change of subject ploy.

"So, anyone else starving?"

Dean reached for his leather jacket as he spoke, his growing disquiet at the vague returning memories masked in the distraction of activity.

Sam and Bobby nodded in agreement and Dean, grasping his car keys in his hand, led them from the kitchen out to the yard.

The Impala sat just outside the front door, Bobby having moved her there as he had supervised the Acme Cleaners: Vampire Division the previous night. Sam watched as Dean's face lit up at the sight of his muscle baby.

"Ahhhh!"

Dean moved swiftly to the car's side; his hands trailing lovingly over the glossy paintwork, inspecting her for damage as he crooned soft words of greeting to her.

He made his way to the driver's side and opened the door, preparing to slide into the familiar worn black leather, as Sam and Bobby hopped into the passenger side, Bobby opting for the more spacious rear seat.

"Sam. You know when I was a bit ...erm...lost there for a while?"

Sam nodded seriously in response to the very real look of concern on his brother's usually mellow face.

"I did remember my baby, didn't I?"

Dean kept his voice low so his baby would not overhear, as he asked the question that to him was tantamount to heresy.

"Well...kinda, Dean..."

Sam watched as his brother's face blanched a look of horror and incredulity on his pale face.

"Owh, Sam, no! You have gotta be kidding me? There's no way I would have forgotten my girl."

Dean swept a possessive hand over the roof of the Chevy as his dilated eyes locked onto Sam's and the younger hunter was struck with remorse for his delight in reminding Dean of his unforgivable lapse.

"Well, you had just had you're head dented, Dean and ..."

"Are you two boys gonna spend all night playing pet the Impala or are we gonna go eat?"

Bobby's amused voice gravelled from the interior of the car and Sam ducked his head to the side, nodding the shell shocked Dean into the car as the elder Winchester groaned wondering what other 'lost' moments his brother had to reveal to him.

SNSNSN

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel of his beloved Impala like it was the only thing real and tangible in a world gone mad. His face was pink with a mixture of disbelief, annoyance and embarrassment and he stared resolutely at the road before them, anything rather than make eye contact with the smirk twins that he currently found himself riding towards Hell with.

Sam hugged his arms around his broad chest and laughed gleefully at Bobby from his position of partial turn towards his fuming brother.

"No, Dean, I am not "shitting" you...its totally true, and if ya don't believe me then ask Bobby."

The old hunter looked towards the rear view mirror, catching cringing emerald that begged him for release from this teasing torment. The old hunter smiled devilishly. Damn if this wasn't too good to miss!

"True as my ass is sitting on this fine leather, Dean. You have been hugging everyone you came across with the enthusiasm of a fan-fiction girl meeting her idol."

The green eyes fled contact and Sam laughed louder as a small groan escaped his brother's pouting lips.

"OK then, I accept I might have been more...enthusiastic than usual in the chick-flick greetings but I do not...will not... believe this crud about me picking...ugg!..health food over a righteous, grease filled burger. I don't care how scrambled my brains were, there's no freaking way I would eat..."

Dean paused, a shudder rippling down his body as he glanced at the still snorting Sam.

"eat...vegetables when there was warming, nourishing cholesterol on the menu."

The 'don't mess with me any more' look in Dean's eye would have halted Sam's laughter at that point were it not for the fact that Bobby's chuckle of "So does it have a pool then?" chose that moment to pop from his giggling body sprawled in the back seat.

Dean shook his head in disbelief as his companions chuckled themselves into apoplexy at his expense and reached for the on switch of the radio in an attempt to drown out their cringe inducing merriment.

The radio spluttered to life, some Hicksville country station in place of his usual metal and he leaned in to re-tune out the twang of steel guitars, only to have his hand still on the dial as the next song lilted from the speakers. The tune resonated in his head, the words suddenly finding instant meaning for him, his thoughts ricocheting back a few days to another journey in the Impala and he knew without doubt that he...Dean Winchester...had sung country out loud, in Sam's presence.

Easy Silence

When the calls and conversations

Accidents and accusations

Messages and misperceptions

Paralyze my mind

Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving

Burning fumes of gasoline

And everyone is running

And I come to find a refuge in the

Easy silence that you make for me

It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

And the peaceful quiet you create for me

And the way you keep the world at bay for me

The way you keep the world at bay

Sam watched Dean's face as his eyes widened in mortal embarrassment until Sam was sure they would simply fall from their sockets. He was suddenly and emotionally reminded that if there had been pleasure for him over these last few, difficult days' it had been in seeing the usual burden of responsibility Dean bore lifted so that he could, for once, enjoy the simple pleasures of life. This expression of squirming horror that Dean bore now made him look much younger than he had in recent months and Sam found his hysteria abating to be replaced by a relief that 'proper' Dean was back. But he was also reminded that he would miss sweet, sappy Dean who had just departed.

"I...I..."

Dean stuttered, his eyes on Sam's as the radio geared up for the second verse.

"Yup."

Sam smiled at his brother, a warm smile full of gratitude and affection.

"You sure did sing it, Dean."

Monkeys on the barricades

Are warning us to back away

They form commissions trying to find

The next one they can crucify

And anger plays on every station

Answers only make more questions

I need something to believe in

Breathe in sanctuary in the

Easy silence that you make for me

It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

And the peaceful quiet you create for me

And the way you keep the world at bay for me

The way you keep the world at bay

Dean closed his eyes briefly before returning them to the road as the soft lilting melody of the undoubtedly country tune wafted through the muscle car's interior. He started to hum softly along, knowing that there was no point trying to deny his transgression against 'cool' and that Sam was going to use this forever to humiliate him at every opportunity.

What the hell! He was fucked but he was here in his beloved baby, with his brother and Bobby and his screwed up brains almost as good as new. What more could a Winchester ever really ask for?

Dean began to sing, the humming turning to a wistfully beautiful harmony and Sam watched with pleasure as his brother sung his heart out to the heretical words that were the anthem for their weird life.

Children lose their youth too soon

Watching war made us immune

And I've got all the world to lose

But I just want to hold on to the

Easy silence that you make for me

It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

And the peaceful quiet you create for me

And the way you keep the world at bay for me

The way you keep the world at bay

Easy silence that you make for me

It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me

And the peaceful quiet you create for me

And the way you keep the world at bay for

The way you keep the world

Story Ends.

Hope to maybe hear from some of you wonderful reviewers as I bring my other stories across from Ungen and thanks to each of you for reviewing, reviews are like rich dark chocolate! Thanks.