A/N: OK. I said this would be a four chapter thing, so here's the final chapter...

Forget It (Part 4: Too Much) by frostygossamer

Dean slept fitfully that night. As he walked downstairs the next morning, he could hear Bobby talking on the phone to someone.

"Yeah, he's here. Call off the dogs, Sam. Arrived last night. Don't know what's going on between the two of you, but his mood ain't good. Maybe you should let him have some space for a few days. Don't mind baby-sitting the guy for a while. Just a shame I can't get him working on my truck. She's needing a tune up. Ha ha ha!" then he spotted Dean.

"Oh, morning, Dean. You up already? He's right here, Sam. Dean, you want a word with him?"

Dean made a negative hand gesture.

"No? Sure. OK, Sam. See ya," Bobby put the phone down. "That was Sam," he explained, somewhat redundantly.

"Got that," Dean replied. "Not speaking to the guy right now. Not yet, anyways."

Bobby nodded. "Still sore about whatever, huh?"

Dean growled. "Still sore, sure. Sore as hell."

"Well, for what it's worth, Sam seems kinda contrite 'bout it," Bobby offered, pouring them both a mug of black coffee.

He passed a mug to Dean. "You wanna talk?"

Dean wished he could, but he wasn't about to talk about his sexual transgressions with this strange older guy. The two men sat down at Bobby's kitchen table and drank their coffee silently.

Bobby was right, though. Something inside Dean needed to talk. He needed to get his feelings about Sam's betrayal out in the open. And, after all, who better to tell than a complete stranger. They say confession is good for the soul.

But how do you explain that you've just found out that the guy you've been FUCKING for the last couple months is actually your own BROTHER? And, worse than that, the guy has been DELIBERATELY hiding it from you! When you TRUSTED him! Lying to you! Lying through his goddamn deceitful fucking TEETH! For reasons that could only be described as BEYOND DEVIANT!

Dean was mad and he didn't know where to start. So he started with something he thought would be common knowledge.

"You do know that Sam is gay, right?" he began carefully.

"Gay? Sam? Who ya joshin', boy? That kid's as straight as you or me," Bobby retorted.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Sure. Why, he was gonna marry that poor gal Jess, right? I know he's not exactly a pussy-hound in your league, but, yeah, he likes the ladies. Why?"

Dean digested that last comment in regard to himself.

"Pussy-hound?" he repeated, blankly.

"Oops. Hell, guess that's what they would call a mite non-PC," Bobby chuckled. "I should say 'ladies' man' or some such crap."

Dean considered. "So you're saying I'm not gay?"

Bobby nearly laughed himself off of his chair. "Hell, Dean, if you turn gay it would likely mean the end of the world. Hell, I may as well turn queer too, and we can expect the rest of mankind to follow right along. Goddamn 'End of the World'. Ha!"

Bobby was now weeping tears of mirth. He pulled an enormous handkerchief out of his pocket and began mopping his eyes.

"Dean gay! Ha ha!" he muttered to himself between chuckles. "Ha ha ha ha!"

Dean got up and walked into the living room. He grabbed his cell and speed-dialled Sam. Sam picked up the call, but there was silence at his end of the line. Dean could hear him breathing.

"Sam, you sonovabitch, don't pretend like you're not there. I got some questions and I sure as hell want some answers."

"Dean," Sam replied, his voice full of emotion. "I dunno what Bobby's told you but..."

"He's told me shit," Dean hissed. "Like the shit I got from you. I don't know what the hell's going on, Sam, but I know you've been playing me like some dupe. And I'm not gonna..."

"Listen, Dean," Sam interrupted. "Just listen up a minute. Before you hang me, I want you to ask Bobby something for me."

Dean caught a breath. "What?" he asked tersely.

"Just ask him if there's a real good reason why you can't know about the last thirty years of your life. Something so bad it would break you. Something that would make it worth starting over new. Ask him."

Dean turned to look at Bobby, who had calmed down, and was sitting drinking his coffee, with only a silly smile on his face.

"I'll ask him," he said.

Bobby listened to Sam's question. His face fell into a frown.

"Yeah," he said. "Yes, boy. I would say there's plenty reason."

Dean was mute for a moment, then he raised his cell to his ear again.

"He said..."

Sam cut him off. "I know. Now ask him was being brothers part of it."

Dean repeated Sam's question.

Bobby choked for a moment. "Yeah, Dean. Guess that was kinda the heart of the whole goddamn thing," he agreed sadly.

Dean put down his cell, and went and sat in Bobby's den, with his face in his hands. He didn't know what the hell this was all about, and he didn't know what the hell to think.

Bobby picked up Dean's abandoned cell and put it to his ear.

"Think you should come get him, Sam," he said. "Think he needs you."

~O~

Sam got to Bobby's by nightfall. When he banged on the door he found Bobby had already gone to bed. The old hunter was a little grumpy about being woken up. When they looked in Dean's room it was empty. Outside, no Impala.

"Hell, not again," Sam swore.

"He won't have gone far," Bobby assured him. "He wasn't in the mood to bolt. Think you'll find him in the nearest bar."

And Sam did.

Dean was sitting in a booth nursing a double whiskey. Clearly it wasn't his first. Sam slid into the seat across from him.

"Dean," he said.

Dean didn't look up from his glass.

"I just need to know why," he said. "That simple. Why?"

"Because I love you," Sam replied. "That simple."

Dean raised his head and stared into Sam's eyes for a moment, searchingly.

"I don't know why, but you've let your dick rule your head, Sam," he began calmly. "And it's dragged you way off of the freeway into the goddamn ditch. You can't erase someone's whole damn life, and remake it how you want. You can't just tear up who and what we were, and rewrite it with some freakin' fairy tale ending, simply because you think you're 'in love' with someone you're not supposed to have," he shoved away his glass. "It's just wrong."

"Why?" Sam quietly asked. "Why is it wrong? Why can't we start new, the way we want it to be?"

"We?" Dean repeated, incredulous.

"Yeah 'we'," Sam replied, earnestly. "It's what we both wanted, Dean. And now maybe we can even have it."

"No, we can't," Dean said, flatly. "Cos to me you're not my brother, and you're not my lover. You're nothing, Sam. And now you're never going to be."

And he got up and walked out.

Sam was stunned. All he could do was sit and stare blankly at the door, as he listened to the sound of the Impala starting up and roaring away, for good.

~O~

Three weeks later, Dean woke up alone in a sleazy motel someplace, with his memory ninety per cent returned. He reached for his cell.

"Sammy?"

~O~

Sam sat in the Impala, engine idling, passenger door open, waiting for his brother to finish up inside. Dean had given him the motel's name and his room number on the phone, so he hadn't knocked, hadn't even tooted the horn. Dean would have heard his ride drop him off, would have been waiting.

Eventually the room door opened and Dean emerged with his duffel in his hand, face impassive. He ignored the open passenger door, walked around to the driver's side and just stood. Sam exhaled and slid across the seat into shotgun, closing his side. Dean opened the driver's door, tossed his bag onto the back seat and flopped into his usual position.

Dean didn't speak, he simply started the engine and pulled away.

As the highway miles sped by, Sam found himself worrying about the inevitable argument that was going to erupt, as soon as they had a chance to stop and talk about this thing.

Dean's face was stony, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He had to be angry, not so much as when Sam had last seen him, maybe, but still mad. He was going to tell Sam that he'd made a big fucking mistake by not putting him wise to the whole truth right away, no matter what.

Sam was sure Dean was going to chew his ass for letting himself stew in the poisonous damn memories alone, without his big brother to help him. That was what Dean was goddamn there for, that was his job, to protect him. Dean was going to tell Sam that he hadn't gone through HELL for him just to let his little brother suffer that freakin' guilt trip on his own.

Busy pondering his possible comeback to that tirade, Sam hadn't noticed when Dean had pulled off of the highway onto a country road. The track lead toward a quiet stream, sheltered from the sound of traffic by a stand of trees. He hadn't actually noticed until Dean put the Impala in park and got out. Dean wandered towards the river side and halted, staring far off, with his back to Sam and his arms folded.

After a minute's hesitation, Sam got out the car and walked up to stand beside his brother. He thought he should say something, but he didn't know what to say. He scanned the view along the river. It was a pretty view.

Sam waited, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans. They stood side by side in silence for five or so before his brother spoke. Dean drew in a long breath, as if he was about to start a rant, but then he let it go.

"You made the right call, Sammy," he said, in barely a whisper.

Sam nodded sadly. "Sorry, man," he replied, managing a weak smile.

"Forget it," Dean answered, sighing.

Sam hesitated a moment. "So..," he asked, nervously. "We good?"

"We're good," Dean confirmed. "We're always good, dude. We're brothers."

Dean turned and moved towards his little brother, burying his face for a moment in Sam's shoulder.

"No one wants to remember Hell, baby. But you shouldn't have let me forget you."

That's all he said. They got back in the Impala, and got on with their lives together.

The End

A/N: There. That's the end. I thought it was a little angsty for me, but I sort of liked it somehow. Hope you did too.