Dean groaned, closing his eyes. Everything was spinning.

"We're two days out from the safe haven. Dean, you have to walk."

Dean cracked one eye open, glaring at Cas. "You don't think I don't know that?" He turned over onto his side. When he tried to push himself off the ground, Sam suddenly appeared in front of him, pressing him back and even tucking a pillow under his head.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean mumbled suspiciously. "Is it moldy?"

Sam shook his head, palming Dean's eyes until he finally closed them.

"Sam," Cas growled.

Dean peeked to see Sam making some signs. They hadn't made great progression with sign language without a teacher, and neither he nor Cas had really made a serious effort to understand what Sam did know.

"Sam, write it down," Cas said.

The sounds of scratching filled Dean's ears. He blew out a breath, shifting uneasily. He was prickling from heat, but nothing he was doing seemed to cool him down.

Cas said, "that's stupid." Dean was pressed against Sam's thigh and felt him flinch. He frowned, opening his eyes and glaring at Cas.

"What," he rasped. "What's stupid."

Sam leaned over, pressing a finger against his lips. Dean tried to scowl at him but got too dizzy and had to close his eyes again.

"He's saying that he'll stay with you, all exposed here, while I go on."

Dean tried to think about that in his fever-addled brain. "Seems okay," he mumbled. "Sam should go with you."

Sam poked him.

The ex-angel ex-druggie cursed long and hard. "Fine. Sam, you keep Dean alive. Dean, ditto. I'll be as quick as I can."

Sam clicked his fingers twice. Dean heard Lucy whine, but Sam insistently repeated the command.

"Saaam," Cas groaned. Sam presumably made some kind of response. Dean didn't open his eyes.

Finally footsteps began trailing away, the clicks of Lucy's nails following.

"Don' you wan' Lucy here?" Dean asked. He swallowed back a sudden flare of nausea.

Sam didn't bother answering, pressing a cool cloth against Dean's forehead. He sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Sammy,"

Lucifer coiled around his mind, laughing at his weaknesses. Sam struggled against his bonds, but in vain.

"Darling, you said yes," Lucifer mocked. "You could at least admit it instead of this pointless battle."

Sam bared his teeth helplessly. "You tricked me," he grit out.

Lucifer pointed to himself. "Devil, here. Now, shall we get on to business? There's this adorable child to corrupt."

Sam yanked himself out of the memory with a shudder. He carefully pressed his fingers against Dean's throat, feeling his pulse. Too fast. Not good.

They only had a little water left. Sam carefully tilted Dean's head up and sent the rest of it trickling down Dean's throat.

"S'm," Dean mumbled.

Sam wanted more than anything to give Dean a response, but his mutilated mouth kept him from doing anything. He carefully tilted Dean's face towards him, waiting until Dean managed to open his eyes.

"Wha—"

Sam shook his head. He pressed a spoonful of beans to Dean's mouth.

"Did you eat?" Dean asked. His eyes, still bright with fever, focused on Sam.

Sam nodded to pacify him. Dean ate, which eased Sam's mind. If Dean was eating, he couldn't be too sick.

"You shoulda gone with Cas," Dean mumbled. "I could get you sick."

Sam shrugged. They had no idea what had managed to make Dean ill, but so far Sam hadn't been infected.

"The guy's arm is busted, it's not like he'll be able to make it anyway."

Dean must've been feeling a lot better, to be so pessimistic again. Sam looked away, uneasily feeling the insecurity of their position. They had holed up in the first floor of an old apartment building, but they had little knowledge about the surrounding area or any potential inhabitants.

They needed water. But Sam couldn't leave Dean helpless.

He pressed the gun into Dean's hand. It was the only one that had ammo that matched.

Dean frowned. "What?"

Sam presented the empty bottle, shaking it a little to show Dean it was empty.

"Don't take more than fifteen minutes," Dean instructed. He raised himself up shakily on one elbow. "Take the shotgun."

Cas had taken the shotgun, but Sam didn't have to tell him that. He carefully kept his pack from Dean's eyes and slipped out. He set up a trap right before the door. Just in case.

Lucy whined. Cas sighed and tried to pet her, but she shied away from his touch.

"I know, it's Sam you want. We're almost there," he promised the dog. True to the message on the wall, the way to the camp had been clearly marked. Cas had managed to follow it easily, which was surprising, for him.

The first thing he saw was a massive wall.

"Of course. That'll keep out the croats. That makes perfect sense." Cas said sarcastically. "All we need is a wall. Not that the virus could come from people. Nah, not at all."

"State your name."

the sound echoed, and Castiel jumped. He looked around, staring. "Hello?"

"We have video on you. You are entering Haven. Please state your name and business."

"Castiel. And this is Lucy. I have two friends, one is very sick, I'm looking for help."

"Please enter the containment chamber."

Cas looked dubiously at the open door. "Alright, Lucy, let's go."

Lucy growled a little, backing up."

"Lucy." Cas snapped his fingers; it was a pathetic noise, compared to what Sam did. "Come."

She slunk into the booth, tail between her legs. The door slammed shut after them, leaving them in the complete dark.

"Clean," an automated voice said. They were flooded with light, and the inner door opened.

"Welcome to Haven." A mousy looking man stuck out a hand. Cas stared at it, before he remembered that he was supposed to shake it.

"You'll help me?"

"We will need to insure you're telling the truth. Otherwise we could be sending our people into a trap."

"How will you do that?"

"A quick test." Castiel was ushered into a small room. The man pushed Cas into a seat and rapidly attached weird wires to Cas' head. Cas struggled not to fidget.

"Answer these questions quickly. What is your name?"

"Castiel."

The man hesitated, staring at the paper the machine was churning out, and then back up at Castiel.

"You went through the chamber," he said sharply.

Cas stared at him. "What?"

He bolted from the room, shutting the door behind him. Cas heard the sound of it being locked.

"Hey!" he called. "I need to hurry, my friends are in trouble!"

He got no response. Cas let his head thud heavily onto the table. Sam and Dean were screwed.

Dean groaned, rolling onto his side and breathing heavily. His skin felt hot and tight; the fever hadn't broken.

"Sam," he muttered. There was no response, and Dean forced himself to open his eyes. The colors bled together, making the old floral wallpaper spin.

"Sam!" he called, louder. He blinked, focusing on the water in front of him. Water. He needed that.

His clumsy fingers managed to tug the canteen closer. It took him far too long to unscrew the cap. His arms were shaking by the time he managed it.

The water sloshed across his face, but Dean managed to swallow enough to quench the burning. Sam had left to do something. To get . . . water. Water was here. Where was Sam?

"Sam!" Dean called urgently.

No response meant Dean had to get up. He pushed himself up on shaking arms.

There was a sound of shifting in the bathroom. Dean blew out a breath, wiping his hand across his sweaty forehead. It was probably Sam. But if Sam couldn't even blow his whistle to let Dean know he was okay . . .

The room dipped and rolled under Dean's feet. It felt like hours later he fell clumsily against the door to the bathroom. With clumsy fingers he fumbled the doorknob open, nearly collapsing into the small room.

Sam gazed up at him, terror in his eyes. For a second, Dean thought it was back, back when Sam had first been dumped off at the camp, and he had been near death, staring up a Dean with so much fear and regret and pain.

"Sammy," he mumbled, dropping to one knee. "What happened?"

Sam made a sound of pain in the back of his throat as Dean peeled away his arm from his side. Sam had been grazed. By a bullet. Dean skimmed over the rest of him, checking for any other wounds, but it was just the one. He couldn't tell whether the heat came from himself or Sam. But Sam had been exposed to his germs, and then injured; chances were he was infected as well.

Sam held a needle in his trembling hands. Dean glanced at his own. Also trembling.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he collapsed awkwardly next to Sam.

His brother traced out 'o' and 'k' on his palm, but Dean couldn't really answer. Sam awkwardly pawed at his face, feeling his temperature. Dean felt helpless, and hated it.

"S'm," he mumbled. "Stitch up. Bleedin' everywhere."

Dean watched as Sam clumsily took care of himself. The stitches were wide and ugly.

"Meds," he murmured.

Sam shook his head, carefully pushing up. Dean watched him rise, unable to move. He saw the effort it took as Sam bent over, hauling Dean up after him. His fever must've been rising, because his brains felt roasted.

Sam cradled him close, practically carrying him into the room. There was a wet spot on Sam's shirt from his side.

Dean tried to slur out Sam's name again, but nothing happened. Darkness took him before he could do or say anything to help.

Cas had once asked Sam how Michael had defeated Lucifer and left him alive. The look in Sam's eyes had immediately curbed his tongue, and he'd dropped the topic without another word.

A wild fear and terror in Sam's face made him nearly do the same thing at the apartment.

"Sam, it's me!" he called out. It would be terrible if he'd managed to bring help only to be shot.

A bit of the fear ebbed from Sam's eyes; Cas edged into the room, gesturing behind him. "I brought reinforcements. They can help Dean."

Sam slumped in relief. Lucy barked, rushing between Cas' legs and immediately was on top of him, licking at Sam's face frantically.

"In here." The volunteers from Haven came forward, wary hands on their guns. At the sight of Dean, slumbering quietly behind Sam, and Sam, obviously gimp and helpless, they lowered their guard.

"Let's get him in the truck."

Sam panicked when they went for Dean, arching himself over his brother in an ill-founded gesture.

"Sam, let them help," Cas insisted.

Slowly, Sam backed off. He awkwardly got to his feet as they lifted Dean. Cas went over, offering his shoulder to Sam, only to nearly buckle under his weight.

"Whoa, there," he grunted.

"Let's head out before we draw unwanted attention," one of the Haven folks called over to them.

They shuffled along at a snail's pace, scooting into one of the vehicles. Sam insisted on being next to Dean, which left Cas to go in the other truck.

"Good to see you weren't lying, zombie man." The driver, Max, Cas thought he was called, started up the truck.

"I'm not a zombie," Cas said petulantly.

"You're lucky they didn't shoot you on the spot for that lie detector test." Max glanced over at him.

Cas shrugged. "I'm wired a little differently than most people," he said carefully. "I did a lot of drugs."

Max snorted. "You ain't bad, man."

For how long the journey had seemed when Cas was alone, it passed by in a moment by vehicle. Somehow they were all unloaded and shuffled into Haven

"Dean will be cared for properly," Cas insisted. He was offered platitudes, and quickly forced his way into the treatment area to watch as Dean was examined by a doctor and hooked up to IV drugs.

Sam anxiously paced—or in his case, an awkward shuffle limp—back and forth in front of the room.

"Calm down," Cas said. "He'll be fine. Dean's pulled through far worse than this."

He turned to see Sam's answer, but instead of making any kind of sign for communication, Sam suddenly toppled over.

Castiel had learned a lot of foul words over the years with Dean. He used them now. All of them.

When Lucifer had been convincing Sam to say yes, he'd liked to hold him down with restraints as he sliced into him.

Sam panted, tugging at the thick cloth that was holding him down. No, Lucifer was gone, he'd been thrown into the pit by Michael. Right? Despite his writhing, he couldn't get free. Sam's wrists were raw by the time someone opened the door. Lucifer was ready for another session, he would tear him apart and put him back together, and—

"Hey! Hey there, guy. Uh, Sam, right? Look, you need to calm down. You kept trying to get up and hurting yourself, so we had to make sure you wouldn't get up."

Sam shook his head so that his hair hid his face. The woman approached, carefully reaching for Sam's arm.

He lunged, slamming his forehead into her head. She collapsed, unconscious against the bed. Sam reached out with his hand, snagging her lanyard and dragging it off. The key acted as a decent tool to cut away the bonds.

The halls were quiet, murmur of a few voices keeping Sam from outright running. he slowly wandered down the hall, checking each room. He seemed to be in some kind of clinic; most people looked hurt or sick.

Sam peeked in one room to see Dean, sleeping on a bed, someone near him, checking his temperature. He slipped inside, and edged behind the door. As soon as they were gone, he hurried over to Dean, checking him over. He was getting better.

He made a grunting sound in his throat, pressing at Dean's hand, trying to wake him up. Dean sighed, eyes fluttering.

"S'mmy."

He nodded, desperately trying to gain Dean's attention.

"Trouble?"

Sam nodded again. Dean sighed again. "Figured."

It was slow going, between Sam's gimp leg and Dean's general wooziness from whatever drugs he'd been given. Add onto that, Sam's side had started throbbing again.

"Crap, go back," Dean hissed, pressing against him. Sam hid his pain as Dean's elbow found his wound.

"Sam? Dean?"

They turned together to find Cas staring at them.

"Cas, dude, let's hit the road," Dean commanded.

"You idiots. We're in Haven. We're safe," Cas told them both.

"Oh good." Dean swayed a little. "I think I need to lie down."

"You!"

Whenever Dean heard that tone, he instantly reached for his gun. His gun, however, had been confiscated upon arrival to Haven. He turned slowly, resting his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Jo," he breathed.

Jo had a gun pointed at him. "What are you doing here?" she spat. "Last I heard you were running a camp yourself. You abandon it?"

Dean couldn't bring himself to be angry. "Overrun by croats," he said. "How are you alive?"

"Survival is what I do best," she said drily. The lines around her face, a shorn head, and visible scars told of a difficult time, post-Lucifer.

"If you'll point the gun away, I'd like to hug you," Dean told her.

The harshness in her expression melted a little.

Jo finally relented, and Dean drew her into an embrace that made his heart hurt.

"I heard about Ellen a few years back," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Jo."

She stepped back, wiping her eyes roughly. "Yeah, well, it's been hard." Dean smiled sympathetically. He was about to ask her what role she had in Haven when her face darkened into a rage so intense that he took a step back.

"You!" It was the same word she had used with Dean, but the tone had become filled with more hate and anger than Dean could comprehend. She rushed past him—too late, he realized Sam had walked up. Jo attacked him, viciously, not holding back. Dean cried out for her to stop, but she didn't listen; blow after blow fell on Sam's sides and midriff. Sam didn't fight back, only using his hands to cover his face.

"Stop!" Dean pulled Jo off of Sam, getting in between the two of them. "What do you think you're doing?"

"That demon-loving scum killed my mother in front of me," Jo hissed, eyes wild. "He deserves to die."

"That was Lucifer," Dean reasoned.

Jo laughed hysterically. "No, no it wasn't, Dean, that's the trick of it. Lucifer was persuading Sam to give in, and he chose."

"That wasn't Sam's fault."

Jo shook her head, eyes suddenly wet. "He chose her death over mine. It was his fault."

Dean looked back at Sam, who was curled in on himself, face drawn in pain.

"Don't touch him again," Dean said. He knelt down, carefully helping Sam up. "Let's get you checked out."

It was easier than Castiel had thought; reintegrating into a community again. Sure, there were strict rules on drugs, but the leadership seemed to be pretty lenient and allowed things like games and singing.

Dean also seemed to like Haven. He and Jo became close pretty quickly, which was unsurprising, and he swiftly moved up in Haven's chain of command until he was in charge of security.

Sam, though . . . Castiel wasn't sure what was going on with him. He sought Sam out, finding him quietly mending some clothes.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't look up, fingers nimbly twitching the needle in and out of the fabric.

"How are you doing?" Cas asked awkwardly.

Sam shrugged.

"Do you like Haven?"

Sam's eye glanced up, expression unreadable. He shrugged again.

"We can leave, if you'd like."

Sam shook his head, making the sign for 'Dean.'

"Dean can suck it up," Cas said.

Sam combined the symbols for 'Dean' and 'happy.' At his feet, Lucy sighed, rolling onto her back and stretching her paws into the air.

"If you're sure," Cas said.

Sam nodded.

Castiel left him, feeling vaguely on edge and uncertain.

It was easy, to fade away.

Jo had spread it around relatively quickly, what he had done, what he had become. Most people seemed to ignore it, taking him at face value. A few others actively hated Sam, making his life difficult whenever they were around.

So it was easier, overall, to simply step back and go into the background.

Dean was preoccupied with finding his place among new people; he had always thrived on having others around, the natural extrovert. Despite growing up loving the hunting lifestyle, acting as the lone ranger, he had always loved people more than Sam had, who preferred solitude and books to human interaction.

He offered the last of his food to Lucy, petting her gently. He had so much more than he deserved; it was better to stay apart from the rest. He glanced up carefully, keeping his face hidden by his bangs. Dean was trading stories with some older man, while Cas looked like he was busy chatting up girl. Sam nodded to himself. They deserved happiness.

Lucy whined a little, perceptive as always. Sam buried a hand in her soft fur, soothing her. Slowly he got up and hobbled away, leaving the others in peace. He didn't need to physically leave in order to withdraw, though that was the easy way out. He knew that if he tried, Dean might pursue in a misguided sense of duty. No, Sam would stay and become invisible.

It was what he deserved.

A/N: This one's a little more piecemeal than I like, but the next part is where I really want to go. And if you know me, Sam is in for a rough time.

Also, please no Jo hate, I like her, she was just convenient for making Haven a little more difficult for Sam. She'll redeem herself, no worries.