DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I do not own Sam or Dean. They belong to Eric Kripke (lucky!) And I am just playing with the boys for my own twisted entertainment.

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CHAPTER ONE: SAMMY, ARE YOU OKAY?

Dean thought he was going to be able to die in peace. One year of down time before he was dragged off to Hell. What the hell was thinking? Down time? Yeah right! Not for Dean Winchester. For a while there, though, he thought that he was going to get what he wanted. After all, although he and Sam had allowed the gates of Hell to open, things were quiet, which scared Dean a little, but not enough to complain. So, there was a chance for rest. A vacation, maybe. Well, that was until Sam was attacked.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, even though a few weeks have passed since the heinous accident. Now, Sam was in the hospital, comatose. The doctors say he won't wake up, but they don't know Sam the way Dean does. Sam's going to wake up, and when he does, Dean's going to laugh at the doctors for ever doubting his baby brother. However, as Dean sat in the room by Sam's bedside, the events of what lead them here played through his head like a horror film he couldn't turn off.

CENTRAL VIRGINIA, VIRGINIA--THREE WEEKS AGO

Dean drove down the deserted street, tapping the steering wheel of his beloved Impala as he sang along with the rock music blaring out of his speakers. Bobby had called a couple of days ago about a succubus problem in the town, and Sam and Dean were the closest hunters to the area. So, naturally, they told the older hunter they would check it out. Sure, Dean would have much rather passed through this town on his way to the Grand Canyon, but he wasn't about to complain about it. Truth be told, deep down, he was kind of itching for a hunt.

Smiling, he looked over to the passenger seat, his gaze meeting the form of a sleeping Sam. Poor Sammy hadn't gotten much sleep the past few days because he was so wrapped up in his research to care about taking care of himself. Trying to do the impossible and get Dean out of his deal. Little did his brother know, Dean didn't want out. Not when the price for his freedom was so high. Sam's life for his? No contest; he'd take the dirt nap before he ever let Sam.

There weren't many miles left between them and the nearest motel, so Dean applied more pressure to the gas pedal, the car accelerating almost instantly. So what if he was exceeding the speed limit? It was what he did. Being a hunter, he needed to get places fast. Ergo, speeding. And besides, it was kind of fun. You know, when Sam wasn't bitching at him about how unsafe it was and that he was going to kill himself one day. But, hey, he was dying in less than a year now, so why bother being safe? Plus, he was a good driver, and he could handle his baby better than anyone. So, really there was no chance of them getting into an accident.

Pulling into the parking lot of the rundown motel, Dean found a nearby parking space-he hated walking more than necessary-and parked her, killing the engine. He turned towards his sleeping brother, leaning over to the side to get closer. "Sam!" he yelled in his ear, causing Sam to jerk awake, jumping because of how loudly Dean had yelled. Laughing, Dean shook his head. "We're here, Sammy."

Settling down after his rude awakening, Sam glared at Dean. "You're a jerk," he huffed, pushing the car door open and climbing out. The only response he got from Dean, of course, was more laughter. And for that, Sam was going to be an ass and make Dean carry all of the bags. "You can get the stuff, Dean, I'm going to get us checked in." Quickly, he walked to the front desk, smiling as he heard Dean yelling his name for him to come back and get his own shit before a string of curse words fell out of his brother's potty mouth.

Politely, Sam smiled at the motel manager. "Hi, uh, I'd like to check in," he said, his warm smile never leaving his face.

The manager, a fat balding man with a mustache, looked out the window at Dean. "King-sized bed?" he asked, a grimace on his face.

"What?!" Sam quickly asked, shaking his head. "N-No. Two queens. He's my brother!" No matter how many times he was asked, it always surprised him when people thought he and Dean were together. I mean, they weren't twins, or anything, but they did have some kind of resemblance, right? They looked a little bit like brothers.

After paying for a weeks worth of nights in the room, Sam walked back out of the office, meeting Dean on the sidewalk. Handing Dean a key as he walked by him, Sam opened their room, walking inside. And because he was suck an awesome brother, he even held the door open for Dean because Dean had no hands at the moment. However, he had to chuckle when Dean shot him an angry look after throwing the bags on the bed.

As he always did, Sam instantly reached for his computer, pulling up some of the sites he had bookmarked for this particular hunt. Reading through each article twice, he took a few mental notes, finding out everything he could on the case at hand. It was long, boring, and oddly exhausting, but Sam finally finished up, explaining to Dean what he had found. Because, God forbid Dean could actually research something. He might hurt himself.

"Okay, so there have been four victims in the past month," Sam explained, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows coming up to rest on the table. "It seems like she works fast. I found an article that talked about some of the side effects, and--Dean!"

"Huh?" Dean asked, looking up from his pizza, seeing Sam looking at him with his 'stern' face. Dean really hated that face. It made him feel like a little kid. And it matched, almost perfectly, the look Dad always gave them when they weren't listening to him. "What, Sammy, I'm listening."

"No, you're not, Dean. You're playing with you pizza." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean knit his brows and frowned, looking at Sam like he was an idiot. "Okay, then what did I just say?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "That there were four victims in the last month. And that this bitch moves fast." He smiled, knowing that he had just kicked Sam off his high horse. "So,, what else you got, Point Dexter?"

He was about to yell at Dean for calling him 'Point Dexter,' but really, it was no use. Dean wouldn't care, and would probably end up doing it more often because he knew it annoyed Sam. "Side effects: Painfully vivid dreams of sexual acts with loved ones, physical pain when the one they want is not around them, an odd obsession with someone close to them. Death." When he said the last word, he threw the papers he had been reading from on the table closer to Dean. "And it doesn't take long, either. Three of the victims are dead. None lasted more than two weeks. The third victim died yesterday. And the fourth is coming up on his first week."

Dean turned his attention from the papers on the table to Sam. "So, the fourth victim has one more week before he dies? And the succubus should be moving on to her fifth target tonight?" Sam nodded, impressed that Dean was actually figuring this out without some help. "Okay, so the victim that's still alive, where is he? We should go talk to him."

Sam rifled through another stack of papers he had, giving a small victory shout when he found what he

was searching for. "Ravenhearst Asylum," he said, smacking his lips together in annoyance. "It's not going to be easy to get in and talk to him."

Dean had to stifle the chuckle that was trying to erupt from his body. "So, who did this guy get infatuated with? His nurse?" A grin pulled to his lips without him being able to stop it, earning him a frown from Sam.

"It says here that his mother put him in there." His brows knit in realization, and slight disgust, as he continued to read. Seeing that Dean was looking at him, waiting for an explanation, Sam recited. "'After discovering that her son had developed an odd obsession with her, Daisy Martin enrolled her son, William, into Ravenhearst Asylum, claiming that he was "infected by the thoughts of a madman."'" Sam looked up at Dean, frowning.

"Looks like we need to go talk to Mommy first," Dean said, throwing the papers he had been skimming onto the table and standing. "You coming, Sammy?" he asked as he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out the door.

Dean had parked the Impala outside Daisy Martin's two story house, making sure his baby was out of the way of crazy drivers. He was always cautious in towns like these where you always read about things being vandalized and stolen. No way was that happening to his Impala. There would be Hell to pay. Now, he was sitting in the car, his back towards the door, looking at Sam with wide eyes.

"You really don't want to go in there?" he asked, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to pull on his lips. Sam shook his head, which made Dean's task ten times harder. "Why, Sammy? Because she's a bitter old lady?"

Finally, Sam tore his gaze from the house and stared at Dean. "No, Dean, because she's a bitter old lady who lost her son. Well, had to put her son in an asylum. She probably doesn't want to talk about it, and we're just wasting our time." He raised his brows in realization. "And we're wasting William's time, and he really doesn't have that much left."

Rolling his eyes, Dean understood now that Sam had a point. Sure, Sam was bitching at him the whole ride over here that this was a bad idea because it was going to get nowhere and fast, but Dean had tuned him out. "Fine, Sam," he ground out. "We'll go to the asylum." Muttering a few choice curse words under his breath, Dean started the car, speeding off in the direction of the asylum, ignoring the dirty look he received from Sam for his reckless driving. Like Sam had said, they needed all the information they could get, and they didn't have much time. What if the guy wasn't a big talker? It could take a week just to crack down his barriers.

Getting into William Martin's room was easier than either of the boys had anticipated. All they had to do was say they were his distant cousins from California who wanted to visit with him on their way through town and they were home free. However, once they were in the room, it was a whole new story. So much for this being an easy task.

William was curled up in a ball in the corner of his room, holding his head in his hands as he rocked back and forth, whimpering in pain. Sam felt bad for him because he knew this couldn't be easy on the poor kid. And that's what he was, too. Just a kid; probably no older than seventeen. However, Dean on the other hand, was not quite as sympathetic. He walked right up to the kid and pulled his hands off his head, pushing him against the wall so William would stop rocking back and forth.

"Look at me," Dean ordered as William's gaze ticked all around the room, never meeting Dean's eyes for more than a few seconds. Frustrated, Dean grabbed William's chin, forcing his face up and to the side so he was staring at Dean. "Look at me." He nodded when William's eyes finally rested upon Dean's. "Good boy. We need to talk."

"Dean!" Sam yelled, walking over to the pair and pushing Dean off of the scared patient. As soon as Dean was away from him, William raised his hands to his head again, continuing to rock once more. "Can't you see he's scared?" Sam asked, scowling at his brother's lack of sympathy. Slowly, Sam stood, looking around the room. There were pictures all over the walls; some drawn, some taken with a camera of William and his mother. Hearing William's whimpering become louder, Sam felt tears in his eyes.

"Dean, look," Sam whispered, gripping the sleeve of Dean's jacket. He pointed to the pictures all over the walls. "Symptom number one: odd obsession with a loved one." Sam watched as Dean picked up one of the drawn pictures that was on the floor, grimacing in disgust. "Symptom number two: painfully vivid dreams of sexual acts with a loved one. He must have dreamed that." Shaking his head, Dean allowed the drawing to fall back to the floor. A scream broke from William's mouth as he arched his back, his face contorted in pain. A tear fell from Sam's eye as he stated, "Symptom number three: physical pain when a loved one is not around."

Seeing Sam upset like that made Dean sick. He hated it when his little brother was sad. And it didn't help that Sam was compassionate for every damn person they came across. Slapping his hand on Sam's shoulder,, he ushered him out of the room. "Come on, Sammy, he's not going to be able to help us. He's too far gone."

Dean didn't drive out of the parking lot, or even start the car for that matter when they climbed in. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Sam. He knew the kid was going to have something to say, and he knew it would require his full attention. And he couldn't drive and give Sam his full attention, now could he? So, he waited, watching as Sam bit his lower lip, his eyes glued to the floor of the Impala. Finally, Sam looked up, tears staining his cheeks.

"He was just a kid, Dean," Sam sniffled. "How could his mother abandon him like that?" Closing his eyes as he shook his head, Sam bit his bottom lip to stop it from quivering more. "Doesn't she see what she's doing to him by not being there for him?"

Yeah, Dean was right, this required his full attention. "Sammy, come on, don't cry," Dean begged, holding Sam's shoulder, feeling his body wrack with sobs. "We're going to find this thing. And we're going to kill the demonic bitch. And when we do, we're going to save that kid from dying. He'll be able to go back to normal. Live out in the real world and be a useful part of society again. You know that, right?"

Slowly, Sam nodded. Sniffling again, he brought his gaze back to Dean. "We have to kill it. Tonight. Before she infects someone else. Promise?" Dean nodded, Sam mimicking his actions. "Thanks, Dean."

Smiling, Dean thrust the keys into the ignition, starting his baby up. His smile widened as she roared to life. Damn, he loved the way this car could make him feel. It was better than any girl he had ever been with, and there wasn't any sex involved. That took skill. A skill that not many people had, and Dean swore to himself that he could never love anyone more than his car. Well, except Sam, of course. "Let's get out of here and get to work. We have a succubus to track down."

Back at the motel, Sam was researching to no end, looking for any leads as to where the succubus might strike next. Dean wasn't home, Sam having sent him out to get dinner about an hour ago. Really, he wasn't that hungry, to be honest. He just needed to get Dean out of the motel for a while so he could research more ways to get him out of his deal. The succubus research had lead him to a bar that he and Dean could check out later, since she didn't strike before midnight. And this was more important than finding a succubus, anyway. Rescuing Dean was Sam's number one priority.

As he heard the sound of metal scraping metal, Sam knew Dean was home and using his key to open the door. Quickly, he closed out of all the sites he had been viewing in his attempt to find something about how to get Dean released from his contract. He didn't understand why, but Dean always got mad when he looked for options when it came to his situation. When Dean walked in, Sam was just closing his laptop, a big grin on his face as he looked at Dean.

"What are you smiling about?" Dean asked, joining him at the table. He tossed Sam a sub that he had picked up at one of the local grocery stores followed quickly by a bag of potato chips and a bottle of Pepsi. Then, he pulled out one of the chairs and sat, pulling his own food out of the bag.

"I know where the succubus is going to be tonight," Sam answered, tearing into his sub. Okay, so just because he wasn't hungry when Dean went out didn't mean he wasn't hungry now. Once his sub was gone, he scarfed the chips, too, chasing it all down with a large swig of his soda. "She's going to be at a bar sometime after midnight. We can take her out before anyone else has to end up like that poor kid locked up in Ravenhearst. And we can save his life."

Dean smiled, taking a drink from his own bottle. "Nice work, little brother," he said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. He leaned back in his chair. "Damn, this is going to be fun."

Sam was trapped. Dean had been knocked unconscious, and now Sam was being strangled by the succubus that was supposed to be 'a blast' to kill as Dean kept repeating on the drive over here. He could tell this bitch was pissed, he and Dean having spoiled her plans to infect some nineteen-year-old punk who was having some girl trouble. The look in her eyes screamed death. Her normally beautiful features were worn out and torn. Dean had managed to cut her face before she slammed him into the wall, rendering him unconscious for the last ten minutes. Just as Sam thought she was going to kill him, she did something he never would have expected, causing him to gasp in shock.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, pushing off the ground, causing the succubus to look at him. She hissed as he pulled his gun up, leveling it with her head. As she made a move to strike, Dean pulled the trigger, her head exploding, causing her body to fall to the ground, flailing as it died. "Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked, kneeling down in front of his brother. Sam nodded, breathing heavily. Wrapping his arm around Sam's waist, Dean helped him stand. "Come on, let's get back to the motel."

Dean wasted no time checking Sam over when he had them back at the motel. He noticed Sam had a split lip and his cheek was a little swollen, but other than that, his face was okay. Running his hands over Sam's torso, he waited for Sam to signal that there was pain, but he never did. Good, no broken ribs. He did the same to his arms, making sure nothing was dislocated. Finally, his hands went to Sam's jeans, unbuttoning them. Sam squirmed away from him before he could get the zipper down, though.

"Dean, come on, I'm tired, can't you just let me check tomorrow when I take a shower?" Sam whined, laying on his stomach, his face pressing into the pillow as he closed his eyes.

Shaking his head and sighing, Dean answered, "I guess, Sam. But you have to promise if there's anything out of the ordinary, you'll tell me so we can fix it. Okay?" There was no answer. "Sammy? Okay?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Sam mumbled. "Promise." Dean smiled as he watched his brother fall asleep. Poor little guy had been through a lot today. Flicking the light switch, Dean curled under the blankets in his bed, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

The next morning, Dean woke due to the sun shining in his eyes. The damn curtains in this place weren't great, were they? Stupid one star motel. "Sammy?" Dean mumbled, rolling onto his side to face Sam. He was still sleeping. Glancing at the clock, Dean realized it was after noon. And Sam was still asleep? That's odd. Standing, Dean walked over to the bed, pushing Sam in an attempt to wake him. "Sammy, get up, it's after 12." Still, no response. "Sam?!" Nothing. Dean rolled Sam over, feeling for his heart beat. It was there, but it was weak. "Shit!" he yelled, pulling out his cell phone and dialing 911. "Sammy!"

PRESENT DAY--VIRGINIA GENERAL HOSPITAL, ROOM 203

Dean was brought back to the present when he heard his name being said. He didn't even realize that he'd fallen asleep. Looking around the room, he searched for whoever said his name. But there was no one else in the room. No one except..."Sammy?" He leaned over, looking down at his comatose brother. "Sam?"

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Dean? What-What happened?" He groaned as Dean hugged him, confused by his brother's actions. "I love you, too Dean." Looking around, he became even more confused. "Dean, where am I?"

Dean pulled back, his hands on Sam's face, forcing him to look at him. "Sammy, are you okay?" he asked, tears in his eyes. He smiled and hugged him again when Sam nodded, letting him know he was fine.