In a minute, Dean's back with two cups of tea. He hands me one and sits down next to me. I take a sip and it's hot and good and the generous helping of honey that he put in it does wonders for my ragged throat. I take another, bigger, sip.

Dean watches me.

"Helping?" He asks.

"Yeah."

"Good."

We sit in silence and drink our tea and I think still on what Famine told Dean. There's no point hoping that Dean didn't believe it, doesn't believe that he's dead inside, even though it's so obviously not true. If there's one thing any Winchester will believe, it's negative things about himself. So I know Dean believes it.

If I tell him it's not true, he won't believe me. If I point out all the explicit reasons why it's not true, he'll find all the explicit counterpoints why it is true. And if I don't say anything at all, he'll think that I think it's true.

That's not happening. I'm going to tell him exactly what I think.

I just have to find my way there.

"How long have I been out of it?" I ask him.

"This would've been your fourth day in the panic room."

"So – today's Monday?"

"Uh…Tuesday. There was the seventeen hour drive back here before that. That took up most of a day."

"Oh." Images run quickly and vividly through my head of what those four days must've entailed for Dean. The stress and fear and aggravation. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"Me? All I had to do was carry you down Bobby's basement stairs. After that, I had it easy."

"You had to stand by and watch me suffer. That wasn't easy."

He shakes his head, not like what I said isn't true but more like even if it is true it doesn't matter. Then he drinks more tea. Then he changes the subject.

"As soon as you're done with your tea, you should have another one of these."

He pulls another grape bottle of Pedialyte out of his jacket pocket and sets it next to me. This time, I can't suppress the sigh of aggravation.

"What?" He asks.

"Pedialyte, Dean? You couldn't just get Gatorade?"

He looks offended. He's offended?

Then he explains, "Gatorade's for people who sweat too much. Pedialyte is for kids who are sick. You're sick. You get Pedialyte."

I'm actually touched by that, that he put that much thought and concern into that choice. But Dean won't want to know how grateful I am. If I try to tell him, he'll pull away, so I roll my eyes and shake my head. And for some reason it's right at that moment that it hits me how to tell Dean that Famine was lying about him. The only other time I know of that Famine met someone he couldn't cow. It hits me so hard, Dean sees it.

"What? What is it? You okay?" He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks close at me. "You should be going in to lie down. It's going to be a while before you're 100%"

"I was just thinking about Famine."

That makes Dean stiffen up, even as he makes himself look like he couldn't care less what I might be talking about.

"What about him?"

"I was just thinking - Famine was in Egypt with Joseph."

Dean waits a few beats to see if I'm going to explain that for him, and his eyebrows go up in a 'are you still hallucinating?' expression.

"Joseph…?" He asks.

"You know, from the Old Testament, Joseph. His brothers threw him into a well and sold him into slavery in Egypt?"

Dean nods and scoffs.

"Yeah. I remember in seventh grade Miss Nagowski tried to get me to be part of her 'Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' nightmare. What about him?"

"I just - Famine was there. In Egypt, with Joseph. There was a famine for seven years, only Joseph was prepared for it. He saved food to last them the seven years, for the whole country. And Egypt wasn't even really his country. He could've saved just enough for himself, or for his family, or for Egypt. But he saved enough for everyone in Egypt and for everyone in the surrounding countries who needed it. He was so prepared, he was able to take care of anybody who needed it, everybody he could reach."

"Okay…" Dean says, drawing out the word. He has no clue where I'm going with this.

"I mean – it wasn't just Famine either. If Famine could've provoked the world to panic, there would've been war, people fighting over what little food there was. There would've been widespread sickness, malnutrition and disease. And all of that would've ended in death, global death. And he stopped it. One man who didn't need what Famine was offering, stopped it all cold."

Now Dean's giving me his, 'You are seriously still hallucinating, aren't you?' look and the cold is starting to make me shiver and I need to get this done so I can go inside and go to bed.

"I just - can you imagine how pissed Famine must've been to go up against a guy who was so prepared that nothing Famine did could touch him? I mean - we know Famine's a sore loser. I can imagine the things he must've said, the lies Famine must've told him to try and get him to break down and give up. But a guy that prepared, that ready and able to take care of everyone else, he'd have to know that what Famine said was lies."

I take another sip of tea so I don't look like I'm waiting for an answer from Dean. I am waiting for answer, but I don't want to look like it.

But Dean's quiet next to me. We drink our tea and watch the snow swirl around the junk cars. He doesn't seem to feel the cold.

Finally, he says,

"Sammy, only you could come out of four days of demon blood withdrawal with a minor treatise on Egyptian history." He's not disputing me or snarking me or asking me what the hell I'm talking about, so - message received and message understood.

He puts his hand under my elbow, "C'mon, let's go back in," and steadies me back to my feet. He grabs the Pedialyte and opens the door and the warmth of the kitchen feels so good I want to lie down and sleep there.

But once our tea cups are in the sink, Dean's hand on my back directs me to the stairs and I go willingly. I don't remember the stairs being as steep as they seem right now but I manage to get to the top and down the hallway and into bed. Like the hot water and mac & cheese, this bed is the best thing ever. I never want to get out of it again.

And as tired as I feel, that's a definite possibility.

It's broad daylight but Dean pulls the curtains closed so the room is dim. He cracks the Pedialyte and puts it on the bedside table, then he lays down in the other bed.

"Cleaning that panic room isn't going to be easy." He says after a while. He glances over at me. "Just so you know, we're staying here until you're well enough to help."

"Why don't we just have Cas clean it? All he's gotta do is snap his fingers."

"That would be cheating." Dean says it like he's serious. Then, "That's a great idea."

I 'hmpf' into my pillow.

"Yeah, I thought it would be."

The worst is over.

The End