For Disney fans I encourage you to say the title how Thumper would. It's a macabre humour but for some reason it gets me laughing.

For those unfamiliar with this go look it up and hear it for yourselves. Then say it.

Thank you. Humour the author. In reality the story is sad so... well... Just bear with me please.

Set early Season 5.


"Damnit Sam!" Dean yelled as soon as they stepped through the motel door.

"What the hell were you thinking! You don't friggin' throw yourself at a ghost!"

Sam set the weapons bag on the table and watched his brother as he stormed across the room to throw down an empty canister of salt.

"It's stupid and it doesn't help! You're just going to get hurt and screw up the rest of the hunt!"

Sam didn't reply, shoulders hunched but eyes holding Dean's gaze in a look of guilt and misery. Dean felt his frustration sky rocket.

"If this is about redeeming yourself or some stupid shit like that then this isn't the way to go!"

Sam flinched at the word 'redeeming' proving Dean's idea that Sam was acting like a suicidal idiot because he felt guilty.

"You don't make up for ending the world by getting yourself killed acting like an idiot! That's not something you can ever make up!"

There was a pause of silence and Sam hung his head, eyes finally being unable to meet Dean's. Dean was worried about Sam but mixed in there was anger and frustration and an anxiety over the fact that the world was ending. It didn't help that Sam was like a kicked dog who was begging its master to love it again. Dean was barely dealing and with another frustrated sigh he headed to the bathroom. He wasn't ready to forgive Sam right now or deal with a Sam begging for forgiveness.

Sam stood there for several minutes unable to move. He was trying so hard to make things right but nothing was working. He knew he could never make it up to Dean, knew that nothing would ever make what he'd done better; but Sam hoped beyond hope that he could make it better just by a little bit. It didn't seem to be working out though. Biting his lip he sat down at the table feeling numb. He needed something to do. Opening the weapons bag he began cleaning them.

Dean spent a long amount of time in the shower, enough to get out because of the cold spray that began coming down forty five minutes in. Heading out he saw Sam at the table, hands working the weapons clean. Sam looked up but Dean looked away, heading over to the bed where he laid down soundlessly and turned off the light. The room was cast into darkness and Sam halted his progress. Dean knew he was being a dick but at the moment he couldn't care. He was still angry and lost feeling and putting his brother in the dark before Sam was ready was satisfying in an immature but safe way.

Sam didn't say anything, didn't argue or bitch at Dean. He just quietly placed the weapon he'd been working on back on the table and headed to his own bed where all he did was toe off his boots and climb under the covers. Sam placed his head on the pillow gingerly, feeling as if his whole soul and body were raw. He hated himself and he knew that his brother could barely stand him right now. It hurt, every moment Dean proved how much he didn't trust or care about him hurt, but Sam had to make things up, had to fix it all. Tears stung at his eyes, and like most nights he buried his head in the pillow and didn't get any sleep.


When Dean woke up the next morning Sam was already up and on his lap top, eyes red from lack of sleep. Dean opened his mouth to say something but shut it. There wasn't anything he could say.

"I found a hunt."

Dean gritted his teeth at the tone of Sam's voice, it was dead and hollow sounding. He hated hearing his brother sound like that. He didn't answer, instead giving out a grunt and beginning to dress. Sam shifted in the chair obviously stung by his brother's silence.

"It's in Salinas, California. There have been a number of people in comas; according to the article people have been falling asleep and just not waking up. There have been eight people so far, all different age ranges."

Dean finished tugging on his boots and lacing them. "Sounds like our kind of thing."

Sam nodded, shutting his lap top and beginning to grab the bags. The guns which had been abandoned last night were back in the bag and thoroughly cleaned.

"It's not just that. Their bodies are atrophying at an alarming rate."

Dean looked up, brow crooked in confusion.

"Atrophying?"

The guilty look Sam got on his face at using an unfamiliar word made Dean's gut roll unpleasantly; Sam should be ribbing his brother about not knowing something, not acting as if he stabbed his brother in the back.

"Wasting away, their bodies are degenerating. Things like weight loss, bad immune systems; all within days."

Dean nodded.

"Any idea what causes it?"

Sam shrugged "Could be anything, a ghost with a particular way of taking someone out, a monster that poisons people. I was gonna call Bobby and ask him about what he knew before we headed out."

There was a question at the end of that; a request of permission. Dean felt the frustration from the night before well up again, Sam was asking his permission to call Bobby. Things shouldn't be like this, they weren't supposed to be perfect but Sam shouldn't be acting like a cowed dog. However, in some ways it was also satisfying, to know that Sam referred to him on everything. But like everything it felt too little too late. If only Sam had been this way when he'd gotten back from Hell.

"Yeah Sam, call Bobby."

Dean let out a deep breath as Sam nodded his head and began packing away the few items that had been gotten out.

"We can pick up breakfast and then start heading toward Salinas."

Sam turned around and presented a bag filled with some sort of food from some fast food chain. Dean glanced at it and then up at his brother.

"We can pass on breakfast."

Sam's face fell, his shoulders sagging. Dean looked away quickly so he wouldn't have to watch his brother's broken look. It took minutes for them to clean the room out and they were soon stepping over the threshold. Sam deposited the bag in the trash can on the way out, still bent into himself. They climbed into the car and the silence set in. Eight hours later and Dean finally stopped to get food. It was a drive through. Dean didn't ask what Sam wanted, just ordered both of them something cheap and handed Sam's order to him. Sam didn't touch it.

Bobby didn't call back until they had crossed the state line and were just over Donner's pass.

"Bobby?"

Sam paused a moment as Bobby answered.

"Wait, wait. Let me put you on speaker."

Sam pulled the phone away and held it between him and Dean. Bobby's voice sounded out next, voice distorted partially by the phone.

"Where are you two idjits headed?"

"California Bobby."

Dean answered. Sam had his head bowed and was staring out the windshield.

"Good God, you two were just in Idaho yesterday, working a different hunt."

"Yeah, yeah Bobby. Just tell us what you know."

"No need to be a smart ass kid." Bobby let out a huff of breath that could be heard over the phone.

"Anyway, from what Sam told me there isn't much to tell."

Sam stiffened at the words.

"Could be anything. I mean, there's a few things I can say it isn't. But until you two get me more to go on I won't be able to give you much. So far too many things match, info's too vague, but I can keep looking."

"Alright, we've got about four more hours until we get there. We'll start looking into it right away and call when we get something."

"Okay." Bobby paused a moment.

"How you two doing anyway?" It was a cautiously asked question.

"We're fine Bobby." Dean responded, terse and sharp.

There was another pause followed by a soft sigh. Dean tensed, anticipating Bobby probing deeper.

"Alrighty. Take care of yourselves."

"Will do Bobby."

"Bye"

Dean responded quickly "Bye"

Sam shut the phone immediately, tucking it back into his pocket. The conversation seemed to have made him wilt further. The whole car ride had been a mess of silence and tension. Neither said anything and the only stops had involved gassing up. Unfortunately the next four hours were no different.

Salinas was a larger city right next to the California coast and surrounded by fields of produce. They checked into a cheap motel downtown, cursing the whole way as Dean navigated one way streets that all looped around each other.

The motel room was like all the others they had been in. A short Hispanic woman checked them into one of the many open rooms. Dean threw his duffel onto the floor next to his bed while Sam set his on the bed along with the weapons bag. Usually after a drive as long as the one they'd been on, the two would relax a little, take time to settle before diving head first into the case. However the usual didn't exist anymore. Dean stretched for a moment before his eyes settled on Sam's hunched shoulders.

He felt his chest tighten and the feeling of suffocating came to him, he needed to get out and away from Sam.

"I'm going to head to the hospital and check out the patients. You can stay here and start investigating the patients and their backgrounds. Maybe I'll pick up some EMF or at least figure out if there is any connection between them all."

Dean didn't spare a glance back at Sam, headed for the car and a cheap rental suit. Changing he looked over his I.D.s before settling on one. The Salinas Valley Memorial Hospital was like most other hospitals and Dean quickly enough found the doctor placed over the eight cases. Doctor David Jimenez was middle aged and balding, kind brown eyes set on a slightly rounded face with tan skin.

"I don't know why they think the cases are all related, I've checked over each patient and nothing about their symptoms indicate something which is contagious."

Dean frowned. "But all of them are in comas and all of their bodies are atrophying."

Dean rolled his tongue in his mouth at using the word Sam had thrown out earlier. The doctor nodded, an annoyed look coming onto his face.

"Yes, but not contagious." Doctor Jimenez gained a disapproving look. "Not something the CDC should be sending someone to look after."

Dean smiled tightly. "I'm sure, but I still need to look into each of the patients. If you wouldn't mind showing them to me."

The doctor nodded tersely and began walking. Dean followed, eyes roving around the hospital floor for signs of anything supernatural. The EMF reader was in his pocket staying quiet.

"So, are any of the patients awake?" he asked as they walked along.

"The coma is the only synonymous condition of all the patients and even then for some of them it isn't even necessarily a coma."

They arrived at the first room. The doctor opened the door and stepped in where two beds were set up containing two men. Dean walked in after Doctor Jimenez.

"These are the first two who were brought in about three weeks ago."

Both were pale and unbearably thin. However one looked worse than the other; sallow cheeks highlighted with bright red splotches of fever and form twitching in illness. Dean focused on that person, stepping closer to their bed.

"So he was the first?"

The doctor shook his head "No. He came in three days after Mr. Ballesteros here."

Dean frowned, glancing between the two. The one was obviously sicker, usually with Supernatural sicknesses there was a timeline that was followed.

"Alright. Would I be able to see the others?"

Doctor Jimenez lead him out to the three other rooms where the situation was similar. The woman brought in four days ago looked worse than the man brought in three weeks ago but there was another who looked worse than the woman and had been brought in earlier than her. There wasn't any pattern in who was sicker. The EMF also was a bust, nothing was remotely ghostly.

Dean was left baffled at the facts. None of the victims had been in the same place when they had suddenly collapsed. One was at work while another had been at a bar. Sighing he gave up for the moment, conceding defeat and heading back to the motel. Hopefully Sam would've made some kind of connection between all the victims. Dean stopped at the car, being in the motel with Sam was the last place he wanted to be. He paused a moment, thinking over what to do while he absent-mindedly tugged at the scratching collar of the white starch button up.

He needed to change and take a shower after being in that hospital. Mind made up, he climbed into the Impala.


Sam was asleep on the bed when Dean got back, form strung out lopsidedly. Dean didn't say anything, barely sparing a glance at his brother as anger bubbled up at the fact that Sam had tapped out. He stripped out of the confining suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly onto the bed and stomped into the bathroom where he proceeded to strip and shower. Ten minutes later and he came out towel drying his hair. The anger had taken the time to direct itself and Dean was now noisily thumping around.

"Sam, get your ass out of bed, we need to work this case."

His brother didn't respond and Dean sent a glare at where his brother was sprawled. He knew he'd made enough noise to wake up his brother but Sam was refusing to acknowledge him. Dean stepped closer, looking more keenly at his brother. He felt unease well up as he realized something was off. The way his brother was placed on the mattress; back to him with arms and legs strangely crooked. Sam never slept that way, ever. When he'd been younger he would curl up in a ball for comfort when Dean wasn't with him; he did that now too. When Sam had gotten older he'd always slept on his back with his arms at his side.

Dean stepped closer and found that his premonition was right. Blood trickling down Sam's neck had Dean rushing to his brother's side. Thankfully it was just a strange bite that had bled, nothing serious. However his brother was unconscious, breaths off beat and fluttering while his cheeks were bright with fever. Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead and confirmed it; Sam was burning up.

Dean shook his brother's shoulder's lightly to get him to wake up but nothing happened except that Sam's head lolled back. Dean felt panic rise in him and he shook his brother harder. The response was the same and Sam's eyes stayed closed. Setting his brother back down on the bed, Dean stepped back. Sam looked so strange, limbs grotesquely bent from their usual way of resting. Dean could see now that Sam had fallen unconscious from whatever had attacked him; body falling into an oblique position.

Snapping out his phone he dialed a number. The phone rang a few moments before it was answered.

"Bobby, it's Sam."