Sam closed his eyes, leaning his head against the lumpy headrest of the car Dean had hotwired. He took deep breaths, trying to stop his head from spinning. Ever since the last seal was broken, Sam had been fighting the dizziness that was now threatening to overwhelm him. He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder.
"Hang in there, Sammy." Dean's gruff voice reassured Sam, just as it had always done since he was a child. Sam tried to summon a smile to put Dean's mind at rest, but it came out as more of a grimace. He was so tired.
He couldn't understand. Last time he had gone without demon blood for weeks before he had even felt shaky, but this time it had taken only minutes. Maybe it was because he drank too much. Maybe it was because he had used up all his strength killing Lilith. Whatever the reason, it was scaring Sam more than any of his hallucinations. He wasn't going to make it. He was going to die. Worst of all, he was going to leave Dean on his own to fight a battle that Sam was responsible for!
Sam shook his head. He could feel the tears threatening to break through, but he wouldn't let himself cry. Dean's hand still gripped his shoulder and Sam could tell by the force of his hold that Dean was just as scared, maybe even more, than Sam was. He would be strong for his brother.
Dean glanced at Sam again. It had been several hours since he had said anything, but every now and then, he would shift his position, reassuring Dean that he was still with him.
"Almost there, Sammy," Dean whispered, more to himself than to Sam. He had been driving at breakneck speed to get back to Bobby's house. He wasn't sure what they could do for Sam once there. Their first attempt to dry him out hadn't been met with much success, but what other choice did they have?
Sam pulled himself up straighter in his seat, opening his eyes for a moment, before squeezing them quickly shut with a moan. Dean's foot pressed harder on the already floored gas pedal. What he wouldn't give to be back in the Impala, whose top speed exceeded this piece of junk by at least 40 mph.
"Dean," Bobby said, standing in the doorway to his panic room. "Maybe you should get some sleep."
Dean was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the wall and his eyes fixed firmly on the sleeping form of his brother. "I'll be alright for a while longer," he said, shifting his weight to get more comfortable.
Bobby frowned at him, but said nothing. Dean had arrived four hours ago, dragging a barely conscious Sam to the door, and bringing news of the Apocalypse. Since then, he hadn't left his brother's side. Not that he could blame the boy. Sam looked like death warmed over and he had yet to open his eyes since being laid on the rickety cot. Looking at Sam now, Bobby felt a sharp pain in his chest. These boys were like family to him. Hell, they were family as far as he was concerned. Seeing Sam like this damn near broke his heart. He looked back at Dean and felt the pain in his chest grow even stronger. Bobby wasn't sure what had happened between the brothers since Dean had disappeared from his house, but it was clear that past fights had been forgotten. At least, for the moment. All that was left in Dean's eyes was pain and fear as he watched his brother struggle to stay alive.
"Ok." Bobby said, nodding his head. "Just call me when you're ready for a rest." He pulled the door shut behind him and began trudging up the stairs.
"Thanks Bobby." Dean's voice was soft and Bobby almost missed it. He paused, one foot suspended over the next step. Shaking his head, Bobby continued up the steps. He had never been a praying man, but he sent up a silent prayer then and there to whatever power might be listening. Just let those boys be ok.
AN: I know, it's kind of short. The following chapters will probably be shorter too, but I'll be updating more often than usual, so hopefully that will balance it all out.