"Well, I have to go, son."
"But Dad, what about Sammy?"
"Dean!" John Winchester slams his knife down on the table, glaring at his oldest son, "He'll get over it. You know as well as I do that we can't go to a hospital. We don't have the money and how are we supposed-"
"To explain how it happened…" Dean finishes, disheartened. John sighs and rubs his face before leaning down and grasping Dean's broadening shoulders. When did he start growing up?
"Listen, Dean. I'm going to get the thing that did this, but to do that, I need you to man up and watch after Sam while I'm gone. You know the drill." He stands, tossing the rest of his supplies into his bag and grabs his journal. "I'm going to be tracking this thing for at least three days and prepping to kill it could take another two. Don't expect to see me for a while. Money's in the nightstand, as usual, and there's a convenience store-"
"Three blocks away. I know, Dad." Dean meets his father's eyes. John nods quickly and pulls the door to as he leaves.
"I'll take care of Sammy, Dad." Dean whispers. He glances at Sam's chest, slowly rising and falling as he sleeps. "I'll fix you, Sammy." Sam Winchester grunts in his sleep as his big brother steps out into the cold September air and heads up the block toward the house at the end of the street.
"Jimmy!" Dean whispers hoarsely, "Jimmy!" Dean had been throwing rocks at his window for three minutes before Jimmy Novak stuck his head out of his window.
"Ow!" he said as a rock smacked his nose, "What do you want, kid?"
"I need help getting into the library and finding something."
"Why don't you just go tomorrow? It's one in the morning, Dean!"
"Sammy's hurt."
"I'll be down in five minutes."
Jimmy glances around nervously, fiddling with his fingers. "H-hey Dean? Look, my mom, if she finds out about this, she's gonna kill me. Maybe we should go. Sam will understand, right?"
Dean crawls through the now open window and turns around, grabbing Jimmy's shirt, "Sam might, but I won't." Jimmy nods nervously and Dean pulls him through the window. "We need to find the medical section. Is there a medical section? Jimmy?"
"Uh, I think this way." Jimmy leads Dean toward a long row of shelves. "Haven't you ever been in a library before?"
Dean clears his throat and Jimmy could almost swear there was a pink tinge to his face, "Not to look at books."
Jimmy exhales a soft, "Oh," and moves toward a corner of the library with a skeleton and a diagram of the nervous system. "So, um. What are you looking for?"
"Something to fix Sam! I told you that." Dean shoots angrily at Jimmy.
"I-I know! I just-what's wrong with him?" Jimmy says, unconsciously backing away a step.
"I don't know!" Dean's voice cracks and he runs a hand over his hair. "He's sweating, and he sleeps a lot. Something stab- uh…he got stabbed by a….railroad spike. He fell on it."
Jimmy looks at his face, searchingly. "Sam fell on a railroad spike?" Dean nods. "And you didn't go to the hospital?"
"Well, it nicked his arm. It's just minor stuff, really." He coughs and quickly looks around, "So, what helps with…uh, stabbings?"
"Well, in the absence of a hospital, not much." Jimmy sees the panicked look in Dean's eyes and says quickly, "But I'm sure we can find something on treating, er, stab wounds."
"Sammy! Hey, Sam. Wake up!" Dean gently shakes his brother awake.
"Dean? Where's Dad?" Sam sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Are we going back to school?"
"No, we're not going to school. You've been asleep for a while, Sammy."
"Nah, I haven't. I've only been asleep for a night." Sam raises an eyebrow at his brother. There's no way he was out for more than a few hours.
"No, Sammy. You've been asleep for eight days. Dad's been gone for six. Remember when that big green monster thing came at you?" Sam nods slowly. "It stabbed you and infected you with some sort of…virus. I couldn't get you to wake up."
Sam looks down at the bed sheets, then at his arm, now bandaged and covered in a purpleish pink goo. "Dean, what is this?"
"Uh, well," Dean rubs the back of his neck, "Jimmy and me couldn't find anything in the medical section that would help you. So we went to the magic section, and at first he laughed at me but I told him-"
"Wait," Sam cuts Dean off, "the medical section of what?" Dean sheepishly points to a pile of books, medical and magical. "You went to the library?!"
Before Dean can reply, the familiar rumble of the Impala was heard outside the hotel room. Dean grabs his sawed off shotgun and stands in front of the door. "Dean, it's just Dad!"
"We can never be too sure!" Dean hisses back to Sam as the door handle turns.
John Winchester stumbles in, drunk and covered in blood. "Dean! Put that thing away! What have I told you about waving guns around?"
"Dad!" Dean and Sam yell in unison.
"Dad! You'll never guess what happened!" Sam says, running to their father.
"You got over your stomach virus!" He says, slightly surprised before looking at Dean, "I told you he would, didn't I?" John gets up and stumbles toward the bed, "I'm gonna sleep this off, boys."
"No, Dad! It was De-" Sam starts, but Dean elbows him in the ribs. "OW! What was that for?"
"Keep it down, will you?!" John shouts, his voice muffled from facing down into the pillows.
"Nevermind, Sammy." Dean says, staring at their father's snoring form. "He doesn't need to know."