The ringing was so loud. Damn witch. Sam thought as he made his way though the house.

"Dean!" he yelled. He ran toward the sound of his brother, and grasped his ears as the ringing increased.

"Sam!" Dean sounded desperate, pleading.

Sam quickened his pace but halted suddenly in the doorway where the noise had become the loudest. Dean lay on his side in the middle of the room, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands covering his ears. Sam didn't waste time staring, but lunged toward his brother. He stuffed his hands into Dean's pockets, but couldn't find the hex bag. Dean didn't even seem to recognize Sam's presence as he continued muttering under his halting breath.

"Just hang on, Dean," Sam said, trying not to let the panic run into his voice. He moved on from Dean and began looking around the room, it had to be somewhere. He frantically opened drawers in the desk, pulled books from the bookshelf – but like always, the witch hid the hex bag not to be found.

Finally, he emptied a cup full of pens, and a small felt bag fell out onto the desk. He quickly pulled out his lighter and lit the bag, watching as the felt burned away to ash and revealed small bones. He knew the spell had been broken when the ringing blessedly stopped.

Sam quickly turned back around and sunk down next to his brother. Whether or not Dean had recognized that the ringing had stopped though wasn't apparent, as Dean hadn't relaxed out of the fetal position he'd curled up in. His arms were wrapped so tightly around his head, that Sam could hardly even pry them away.

"Dean!"

Dean's hitched breaths were fast and panicked. He made no sign that he'd heard Sam at all, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Dean, hey man, tell me what's wrong–"

Sam placed two fingers to Dean's neck and felt for a pulse, but Dean's heart was beating so fast that Sam had trouble picking out separate beats. Dean let out a soft gasp as Sam's fingers pressed gently against his neck, his first response to Sam since Sam had burned the hex bag. Sam swallowed, and tried to slow his own heartbeat as he tried not to panic. Something was wrong. Something bad, and Dean needed a hospital if he was in so much pain that he wasn't even responding.

"Dean, I'm gonna get you help, okay?" Sam said as he manipulated his brother into a sitting position. As he shifted, Dean's arms fell from his head, and Sam saw a small trickle of blood from Dean's ears that only increased his worry and panic.

Sam ducked underneath Dean and grunted as he let Dean's weight fall on his shoulders. He shakily stood, grasping Dean's arm and leg in a fireman's carry, then took slow careful steps through the hallways and out the front door towards the Impala.

Sam fumbled with the key and opened the door, but took his time and attentiveness gently lowering Dean down into the passenger seat. While Dean's muscles had relaxed, he seemed to be less aware of what was going on, and Sam couldn't even imagine what spell the witch had cast.

Sam quickly shut the passenger side door without another thought, and raced around to the driver's side. Dean was already listing to the side, and Sam put out a hand gently catching him before he fell onto the seat. As soon as Sam touched him, Dean gasped, and his eyes fluttered, but squeezed shut almost immediately.

"Dean! Hey-" Sam grasped Dean's shoulders, and Dean winced.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice was so pained and lost, that Sam immediately started the car, cranked the heat, and drove. Something was very wrong, and the faster they got to a hospital, the faster Dean would get help. Dean was still breathing quick and strained, letting out an occasional moan that had Sam squeezing his shoulder with each one.

Sam drove with one hand on the wheel and one hand keeping Dean from falling. His eyes darted from Dean, to blue hospital signs on the side of the road, to actually watching the road. He was thankful that it was late at night and the roads were empty.

When he finally reached a hospital, he pulled right up to the ambulance bay, and was actually thankful when someone immediately approached him, telling him he couldn't park there. One look at Dean though – who'd fallen unconscious, but was shivering slightly – and he was turning back towards the hospital calling for a gurney.

Sam busied himself opening Dean's door and gently pulling him from the car, but once the team of paramedics got ahold of him, they worked fast, and Dean was being brought inside with hardly a word for Sam. He followed as far as he could, but was too soon stopped and told to wait. He felt his heart pounding as he watched Dean be wheeled around a corner and out of sight.

"I need to know what happened sir,"

Sam looked down to see a woman in scrubs looking up at him. He recognized her as one of the paramedics who'd helped take Dean from the car.

"My brother– I– "

"Sir, we can't help your brother fully until we know what happened."

The doctor was very calm and patient, and it made Sam uneasy. He looked around and finally realized where he was. Various beds lined the walls partitioned by curtains, and there was a desk with nurses to his left. Dean had been taken down a hall, away from the trauma beds.

"Umm–" Sam rubbed his head which had slowly began to ache. "There was this noise– I– I don't know what happened. He was conscious when I found him– but he wasn't– he didn't respond–"

It took all of Sam's effort just to form coherent sentences, and he realized his hands were shaking.

"This noise, was it high pitched? Ringing? Constant?"

"Yes, it was– like an ambulance, but not–"

The doctor nodded, seeming to understand, even though Sam could hardly understand.

"And did he hit his head at all?"

Sam shook his head, and looked past the nurse at the corner Dean had disappeared around, somehow, hoping, maybe he would appear there.

"Sir? Sir, sir are you alright?"

Sam felt a hand on his arm and pulled his eyes away from the hallway, but the doctor had left. In her place stood a nurse with her hand gently placed on his upper arm.

"Come sit," she said. She began guiding him over behind the nurses desk to a table and two chairs, somewhat secluded from the insanity that was the ER. "I'll get you some water."

Just the thought of sitting made Sam's legs give, and he collapsed into the chair, his head falling into his hands. He heard the nurse come back and set something down in front of him. He looked up and reached for the cup of water.

"Thanks," he said. He took a sip, not even tasting it. The nurse sat down across from him. She was holding a clipboard and a pencil.

"My name is Caroline," she said, "I can help you figure out this paperwork if you want."

Sam rubbed a shaking hand down his face. He doubted he'd be able to focus on reading, let alone holding a pen.

"Yeah, that'd be great," he said, "thanks."

"Alright, let's start with your name," she said. Sam looked up surprised, he'd been so preoccupied about Dean, it hadn't occurred to him that she would ask about him.

"Uhh... Sam," he said. He cleared his throat, trying to remember the name on any of their insurance cards "Sam... Holland. Dean is my brother."

Caroline nodded and began writing on the clipboard. Sam took a shaky breath. How did this happen? One minute they were hunting a witch, the next minute, Dean's condition was undetermined and he was answering questions about insurance.

"And how old is Dean?"

Sam answered the rest of her questions, trying to focus his attention on the monotonous questioning and not on the ever present feeling of unease that seemed to be a presence on the outside of his body as well as in his mind. After a few minutes, he'd seemed to calm down, and Caroline left him to put Dean's information into the system and register their insurance information.