My Brother, the Dick?

by DawnTwilight

So what did you see? Near the end, I mean.

Title: My Brother, the Dick
Author: Twilight
Feedback: Always welcome
Summary: So what did you see? Near the end, I mean.
Notes: I was asked to fill in for the Summer of Sam Love 2010 Challenge. Here you will find some missing scenes from Season Four's Yellow Fever.

It started out subtle, but by early evening, Sam knew they were in trouble.

All day long Dean had been acting...well strange. Crossing the street to avoid a handful of pimply teenagers and freaking out over a snake.

Dean, the guy who would pick up anything that slithered, poisonous or not, afraid of a boa?

While Sam shifted through Frank O'Brian's stuff, looking for God knew what, he was pretty sure that whatever had killed those other men had a hold of Dean too; he was just hoping to God, or whoever, he was wrong.

He couldn't…no he wouldn't go through that again.

Not again.

He didn't turn up much at O'Brian's house. All the man's curtains were drawn and he had take out container spread out over the kitchen and living room, like he hadn't left his house in a few days, but nothing raised any of Sam's alarm bells and nothing tripped the EMF meter either.

He snagged his cell from his jean pocket and dialed Dean. His brother's voice sounded pinched when he said, "yeah."

"You okay, man?"

"What? Yeah, I'm good…you done? I'll meet you in front of O'Brian's in ten," and then Dean hung up on him.

Judging by the way Dean jumped when Sam slid into the car five minutes later, Sam's suspicions grew and on top of that Dean suddenly started to obey the laws of the road. He was driving like one of the those little old ladies, out for a Sunday drive, that Dean would always yell to get out of their way...yeah, it didn't look too good.

"Dude, where are you going?" he asked a minute later. "That was our hotel."

"Sam, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal..."

Sam did a double take and then heard a faint humming noise while Dean turned Sam's way with a perplexed look on his face. "Did I just say that? That's kinda weird."

Sam would say more than weird, but he was too busy trying to figure out where the humming was coming from. "Do you hear something?" and then he remembered the EMF meter in his pocket. He pulled it free and watched as the lights lit up one by one when he passed it closer to his brother.

"What the hell..." Dean's eyes got larger and larger as he began to realize what that meant and then his brother blurted out, "Am I haunted...Am I haunted?"

Sam started to tell him to settle down, to not panic but the car lurched dangerously toward the center line and he had to grab for the steering wheel. A dark colored pickup truck, missing one head light, blasted its horn, and then swerved around them. "Just calm down, Dean...pull the hell over."

They managed to make it to the curb where Dean kept a death grip on the steering wheel, but his breathing had evened out a little.

"Just...I'll drive us back to the hotel and call Bobby...we'll figure this out, okay? But you have to stay calm."

He didn't want to point out the obvious reasons why. Sam could still see the other men, lying on the coroner's table, chests split open, all dead from a heart attack. "That's it man…calm down."

Dean took in a big breath, made a point of slowly blowing it out and nodded as Sam got out and walked around to the driver's side. His brother didn't budge, but when Sam opened the door he scooted across the seat so that Sam could take the wheel.

Sam did an illegal u-turn in the middle of the road and got them back to the hotel pretty quickly. When Dean baulked at the elevators, they walked up four flights of stairs and then Sam managed to get his brother to head for the shower so he could make his call to Bobby.

"Go on first. I'll call in for food and then give Bobby a heads up. Don't worry Dean, we'll figure something out..." He wanted to say that they always did, but that would have been a lie and they both would have known it.

The shower came on as he picked up the hotel binder that gave information about the area and he found a section on food delivery.

Figuring that pizza would be safe bet, he put in an order for a large meat lovers and a small cheese with ham and pineapple, before calling Bobby.

The old hunter picked up on the second ring. "You boys all right?"

Sam sighed. "Whatever this is...Dean's got it."

"Tell me what you have."

He spent the next fifteen minutes filling Bobby in on what little information they did have, things that they had already ruled out, and then hung up with a promise to call in the morning.

The shower went off some time ago, but Dean was still in the bathroom. He listened for a few seconds and then got up to bang on the door. Something clattered to the floor on the other side, but before he could ask if everything was okay, Dean came out dressed for bed.

It was only seven thirty.

"I um...I got us pizza and Bobby's on it. He said to call first thing or he'll call us if he gets something sooner...you ready for bed already?"

Dean looked down at himself, running a hand over the rumpled tee he usually wore to bed, the old sweats, then to his bare feet. "Yeah...I think…I think I'm gonna get some sleep."

Sam didn't know what to make of the man in front of him. He had never, ever seen his brother so quiet, so subdued...so afraid. Not even when he was facing hell. Dean had always been the one to speak up, stand up, stick up for him, always been the first to use his fists, the guy never backed down.

He watched as Dean got under the blankets and sheets, pulled them up to his neck and then nearly ducked his head under them as he turned on his side and Sam couldn't help but notice the slight quiver and rustle the bedding made.

He didn't think twice about plopping on the mattress beside Dean and turning the TV volume on low. Dean had done this for him a hundred times, a thousand times, when he was growing up.

"Sam, you don't have to..."

"Shud up," because that's what Dean would have told him and he smiled as his brother's shoulders relaxed and the bed stopped vibrating.

He knew the sickness would be getting worse, probably even as his brother slept, but Sam was ready to be the caretaker for once.

The coffee shop was full, but after drinking a cup or two and doing some research via the free web Sam waited in line to grab a few donuts for Dean, because well...Dean loved donuts.

On his way out the door his cell rang and he listened as Bobby laid out the details of what he thought was going on.

"It fits...but then why didn't I get sick?"

The silence on the other end of the line didn't make Sam feel all that great, but then Bobby cleared his throat and said, "You and Dean...night and day. You both do the job, but Dean has always been the more aggressive one. I'm sure that's it."

But Sam could tell that Bobby wasn't so sure and that maybe him not getting sick had something more to do with him being immune to a certain other virus too. Or even something that no one else even knew about.

Something he had been doing.

"Anyway, you just need to find the spook that started the sickness and Dean will be fine. Just...take care of your brother."

"Yeah, Bobby. You know I will."

"I have a few more books I'm gonna check out, I'll call ya idjits later."

"Yeah, all right, Bobby. Keep looking."

As he hung up he heard a heavy base beat wafting over the breeze, coming from the parking lot and was a bit surprised to see is brother lying in the car playing air drums. He wasn't looking forward to explaining what Bobby had turned up.

"Well why me?" Dean asked after Sam had told him about the ghost sickness. "Why not you? You got hit with the spleen juice."

"Yeah. See, Bobby and I have a theory about that too. It turns out that all three victims shared a certain personality type. Frank was a bully, the other two victims...one was a vice principal; the other was a bouncer."

"Okay."

"Basically they were all dicks."

"So you're saying I'm a dick?"

"No, no, no, it's not just that." How could be make his brother understand? "All three victims used fear as a weapon. Now this disease is returning the favor."

"I don't scare people."

"Dean, all we do is scare people."

"Okay then, well you're a dick too."

"Apparently I'm not." I'm something else.

But none of that really mattered. Sam knew that Dean did what he had to do to deal and to get the job done.

Hunting sure wasn't an easy life for any of them.

But now, the job at hand, was to figure out who started this whole mess and light 'em up. Figure out how to end this before anyone else died and then move on to the next thing that needed killing, cause that was their life, that was who they were.

Sam left Dean in the parking lot, asking for a new room.

After getting settled on the ground level, Sam went to the local library to find any books on the ghost sickness lore and to see if there was any articles about the death of Jesse O'Brian, which was a bust. What little that was reported didn't say where the body was buried, which meant he had to do a little more digging.

He took the book and stopped to pick up lunch for Dean, who decided once he was in the new room, he didn't want to leave it.

He ate his sandwich quickly, wanting to get back out there, because time was running out. "I'm going to see if I can find out where Jesse is planted. I found a book that might tell us more about the disease...if there is another way to get rid of it." He dropped the book in front of his brother, who hardly touched his own food.

"Call me if you need any thing," he felt a little guilty leaving Dean alone again, but if he was going to help his brother, he was going to have to find O'Brian.

The hall of records was pretty small and he found out that Jesse O'Brian wasn't in any plot pretty quickly.

"That's just great."

On the way back to the hotel he called to check in and Dean sounded worried, but told him he was fine, "But I could go for some of those chips though, you know the ones that come in a can?"

He didn't mind making the side trip and didn't even realize that Dean hadn't asked him about what he had found until he was coming up the hotel hall with a few printouts on Jesse O'Brian and a bag with three different kinds of potato chips.

He found Dean drinking beer on the couch and the clock shattered on the floor in front of the door. "Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. Just peachy."

He dropped his bag and told Dean what he found. "So I'm pretty sure she's not our ghost," he plunked down into the chair across from Dean, putting his feet up on the coffee table, nudging Dean with his boot when his brother started to scratch his arm. "Hey, quit picking that."

But then Dean started choking, turning red in the face and he followed his brother as he folded over the sink and tried to bring up whatever was clogging his airway.

"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have: you."

"I don't want to be a clue."

He smirked at the tone of Dean's voice, but excitement sparked in his belly too, because this was something they could work with. This was going to lead them to the ghost that started the whole thing.

He had to practically force Dean into the wood mill, even if his brother was only packing a flashlight. But despite the liquid courage and the scare with the cat they found what they were looking for...well technically he did since Dean high tailed it outta of there leaving him with the ghost of Luther Garland.

They did a quick change, which was something considering Dean was slightly drunk and went over to the sheriff's office to get any information on Garland.

He plied his brother with coffee before they went to question Garland's brother, calmed Dean's nerves about the fake ID's and got the story on the man's death.

They had a little over six hours, but Sam knew they would have to come up with a new plan.

"...and get me healthy."

"It won't be that easy, Dean."

"Why, why won't it be that easy?"

"Luther was road-hauled. His remains will be scattered all over that road. There's no way will find them all. We'll just have to figure something else out."

"You know what...screw this."

He knew Dean was upset and scared, but he wasn't prepared for the tirade of emotion that came next.

"We search out things that want to kill us. Huh, huh? Or eat us! You know who does that?

Crazy people.

We are insane!"

He started to speak, to offer words of reassurance, to tell Dean it was just the ghost sickness talking, but Dean cut him off.

"And then there's the bad diner food, and the skeevy motel rooms...and the truck stop waitress with the bizarre rash...

I mean, who wants this life, Sam...huh? Seriously?

I mean do you actually like being stuck in the car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so! I drive too fast, I listen to the same five albums...over and over and over again, and I sing along.

I'm annoying, I know that.

And you...you're gassy. You eat half a burrito and you get toxic.

I mean...you know what?"

Sam reflexively caught the keys his brother tossed at him.

"You can forget it." And then Dean was walking off into the night.

"Whoa, Dean...where are you going?"

Dean rounded on him, pointing a finger in his face. "Stay away from me, Sam, okay? Because I am done with it. I'm done with the monsters and the hell hounds, and the ghost sickness and the damn Apocalypse.

I'm out, I'm done, I quit."

And then he was gone.

By the time Sam shook off the shock and got the car started he had lost sight of his brother. It was as if Dean had thought something was after him, as if he was running from something, as if he had hell hounds on his ass all over again.

Sam searched the road the retirement home was located on, all the main streets in town, then all the side streets and alleyways. He checked the donut shop and the corner bar, everywhere he thought his brother might be before heading back to the hotel.

Relief washed through him when he saw Dean perched on the sofa when he unlocked the door. "I looked everywhere for you, Dean. How the hell you get here?"

The retirement home was over eight miles from town and the hotel they were staying at.

"Ran."

Sam sank down to the couch beside his brother, wanting to be close, to offer whatever support he could.

"What are we going to do now?" Dean asked him, afraid and defeated. "I mean, I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die Sammy."

"No, your not, Dean...I'm not gonna let you..." When Dean didn't answer, he turned to see if his brother was listening.

"Back?" Dean asked.

"Back? What are you talking about, man..." But Dean looked more confused then Sam felt and he could see the panic rising in his brother's eyes.

Then Dean jumped up and backed into the corner. "No! You get out of my brother you evil son of a bitch!"

Sam stood too, moving forward slowly, hands raised so not to scare Dean further. "Whoa, man. It's just me. It's okay. No one's possessing me, Dean."

But his brother wasn't listening, was having a full blown panic attack and Sam knew he had to do something to break Dean out of it.

He grabbed Dean's suit jacket and shook him hard, calling his name until finally it seemed to work and his brother took in a huge lungful of air, searching Sam's face, and then looking long and hard into his eyes.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing Sam let him go, "Just breathe, man."

Dean nodded, moved away and sat on his bed, shucking his suit jacket and tie.

"You okay, now?"

Another nod, but that would have to do for now. Sam took off his own jacket and pulled out some more comfortable clothes to change into.

"Bobby will be here soon." Sam figured just talking might be enough to help Dean calm his nerves. The sound of Dean's voice was what usually helped him when he was stressed or sick. "I'm gonna meet him at the mill. He's been working on a plan to get rid of Garland's ghost, so you just sit tight, okay."

In the bathroom he changed and brushed his teeth, thought about shaving his face, but didn't, then combed his hair. When he came out Dean had changed and was sitting in the chair watching cartoons. Something he used to tell Sam to do when he was younger and not feeling so great. Cartoons will always help your tummy feel better, Sammy.

"Keep your cell close by and call me if you need me, okay?"

His brother pulled his cell from his shirt pocket and put it on the coffee table. "Be careful, Sammy."

"Yeah, you too...stay calm, okay."

When he left his brother at the hotel he didn't know how he was going to kill Luther Garland for good, he just knew that he was gonna. He didn't have a choice, because there was no way in hell he was gonna lose his brother. Not again.

Later, he could hear the anxiety in Dean's voice when he called to tell Dean not to worry, to ride out the trip, that they had a plan.

And after, when Luther Garland was a pile of ash and Sam came back to the room, because Dean wouldn't answer his damn phone, to find the Sheriff dead he thought for just a second he had been too late.

"Dean?" he called, casting his eyes around the room, but not finding his brother.

The bathroom door creaked open and beyond he saw the outline of his brother, leaning over the sink, in the dark room. "I'm okay." Dean turned off the faucet that Sam could hear, now that the door was opened. "But Al, there...he's a different story."

Sam relaxed, letting go of the building tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "What happened?"

"Long story. I'll tell ya after we clean up and get outta Dodge."

Sam looked around the room and sure enough Dean had already packed up their stuff, it just needed loaded into the car

"I know cause of death will be heart attack, but I don't want to be around to have to explain the signs of struggle, so I say we dump the body somewhere it'll get found, but far away from us."

No argument here.

For the next forty-five minutes Sam helped Dean pack up the Impala, then undress the corpse, bundle up the late Sheriff in some sheets, sneak the body out the rear entrance and into the car trunk, that Sam had pulled into the alley.

Dean went back through the hotel to chat up the desk clerk as he checked them out so she would be busy and not notice as Bobby got into the dead cop's car, wearing the dead cop's clothes and driving off.

After a few minutes Sam drove around the front and waited for Dean. By the time they met up with Bobby he was back into his own clothes, waiting on the side of the road about twenty minutes out of town.

The police cruiser was a few yards into the trees, but still visible to anyone passing by. They redressed the corpse and put it behind the wheel.

"Well, that was fun." Dean said. "I could use a drink."

"Let's meet another ten up the road," Bobby told them, getting into his own car and taking off.

They road in silence, because now that Dean was better, Sam just didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask what had happened back at the room; he wanted to know what Dean had saw.

Up ahead he could see Bobby's car near an outcrop of rocks and when they pulled up Bobby was waiting.

It seemed Dean had some questions of his own, wanted to know how they managed to get rid of the ghost without all the remains and Bobby told him about road-hauling Luther with a chain as Dean passed out the beers.

"So you road-hauled a ghost...with a chain?"

"Iron chain," Sam added. "Etched in spell work."

"Hmm...well that's a new one."

"That's what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal though." Sam said, remembering the look of horror on the ghosts face right before he was pulled away and out of the mill by his neck.

Dean took a drag of his drink, nodding. "On the upside, I'm still alive, so go team."

"Yeah...how ya feeling by the way?" Dean's rashes were gone and he seemed more coherent. Not the least bit afraid. Back to his usual self, which Sam would have to admit was not the least bit dick like…mostly anyway.

"Fine."

"You're sure Dean?" Bobby asked. "Cause this line of work can get awful scary."

"I'm fine," his brother huffed. "What, you wanna go hunt? I'll hunt. I'll hunt. I'll kill anything."

"Aww." Sam smirked, because this was his brother, whole and alive and himself.

"He's adorable." Bobby chuckled and Sam joined in too, because sometimes you just needed to laugh.

"Whatever." But there was no heat in Dean's words and he was always up to taking a good ribbing if it let everyone blow off a little steam. Especially Sam. His brother was always looking out for him.

"I gotta get outta here. You boys drive safe."

"You too Bobby." Sam said. "Hey, thanks."

They watched Bobby drive off and Sam waited a beat or two before asking what he really wanted to know. "So ah...what did you see? Near the end, I mean?"

"Well, besides the cop beating my ass?" Dean joked, because getting the guy to talk about anything could be like pulling teeth.

"Seriously," Sam said, looking Dean in the eyes and seeing his brother doing the same, then seeing Dean's smile disappear and all his walls going up, his emotions locking down.

"Howler monkeys. The whole room was full of them. Those things creep the hell out of me."

"Right." And Sam knew right then, whatever it was, it would stay with Dean.

"No, just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Something big was coming, Sam could feel it, but whatever it was, him and Dean, if they had any chance of taking it on, it would have to be together.

And Dean was gonna have to trust him.

Sometimes Sam just wished Dean realized, he didn't have to handle everything on his own.

The End