Dean felt it creep up into his skin and leave a trail of bristling shivers. He wished he had destroyed it before it dealt its mean, mean hand, but it was a force that he couldn't twist round the neck and defy with any manner of weaponry resistance. It was always too late. The weather was too bad. The world would end.

-SPN-

He had been in the attic of an ancient freak who once had a hobby dealing in the unsavoury, when he first felt the soft swell at his throat and the prickle of panic that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Dean was a tough guy –so much tougher than Sam of course- but he had things that Sam didn't have, like allergic reactions. He brushed his sleeves hurriedly against spiders and cursed all kinds of bugs. There was small, but they were dangerous, and that made it ridiculous.

He poked around in corners to find some remnant of remains to burn but so far everything was coated in thick dark gritty warnings. He covered his nose with his hand and thought vaguely about a long time ago when a nurse had told him to carry one of those white masks, because they looked weak but they did help. Dean didn't want to look weak, that was a bit of a problem too. He didn't think Sam would mind, but Sam should not have a big brother who was more apprehensive of spring than ghosts.

Sometimes, he really was useless. It had been surreal watching Sam grow and grow, leave him behind in all kinds of ways. He should've been the one Sam looked up to, but then he was looking up at Sam and wondering how he could pull away the gluey something that stuck to his chest.

He found a wig which was probably a hundred years old. It was filled with maggots and other creatures, but it would burn all semblances of the ghost and leave him free to contemplate his morbid thoughts. He torched it and stamped the fire out. Another hunter would burn the abandoned rotten house down, but he was scared of house fires. Scared, scared, with the cough that crept up his chest when he was four and never quite left.

He sneezed violently. That was good. Sneezes are the best.

'Sam,' he yelled, 'all done.'

Then he heard a cough. It was like a curt nod from someone you wanted to impress. And it came from his chest. It twanged like a snapped string. He thumped his ribs, spat on the disgraceful floor of the attic and left. Sam, who was standing outside, waiting, looked at him.

'That was an old house,' he commented 'it was very dusty.'

'So?' Dean shrugged his shoulders.

'You must have inhaled at least a trunk's worth of the stuff.'

'Why does that matter?' he replied, irritated.

'I don't want you to get sick, Dean' continued Sam, because that's just how the real Sam was, very questioning about anything that concerned him and it was weird how Dean concerned him as easily he once did, like he was wearing an old jacket that fit him just right 'you should've let me go instead.'

'I'm fine,' Dean shrugged again, so calm, so confident, so many coughs that threatened his world. It was good Sam was here, good like the way the sun sneaks in through the gray coverlets of winter and you don't want it to leave, but he didn't like being sick when Sam was around. So he wouldn't be sick, no matter what sniffs demanded or the aches at his temples.

It was air. It was life. It should be effortless. It wasn't.

Dean felt the cough in his chest again and swallowed it somehow.

-SPN-

The next hunt was something slightly more serious. It involved a monster that could rip into abdomens and require faulty insurance after. It lurked in a damp forest inside a crusty cave and only appeared outside of its lair before dawn. That meant it would be windy, nippy, creepy and the right sort of case for serious hunters. Sam had found it and pronounced the creature's Latin name the same lisped way he had when he had learned it as a kid. It was cute and Dean smiled. Sam smiled back and didn't know why.

'This time you follow me' Sam said, 'because last time I followed you and that's only fair.'

'Are you crazy?' Dean snorted 'I always go first. That's the rule. I don't care if it's unfair.'

'That's your rule' Sam retorted, 'and I found this case and I want to face the danger first. I don't always want to be behind you. I also want to kill stuff.'

Dean thought it was unsettling to hear someone argue that they want to kill stuff too. It wasn't normally something Sam would say, but Sam was strange sometimes.

'Alright then, compromise' he said resignedly 'I still go first, but I don't kill the thing. I only hurt it slightly and then you slash its icky gore right out all over your big feet. Okay?'

'Not okay,' Sam said stubbornly and it occurred to Dean that Sam wasn't telling him everything. Sam didn't lead hunts unless Dean was bleeding and couldn't keep up. He hadn't expressed much of a discord to it before.

'Spill it,' he looked at his brother.

Sam hesitated. Dean coughed. It was a scratch, a jerk, a cleared throat, watery smile, Sam looking at him warily. Then he coughed from somewhere he didn't know existed, it was grating and rough and sandpaper. There was salt in his eyes and someone steadied the wheel.

'M&M' he told Sam, when he could almost breathe and the kid was done blinking at him 'I don't chew properly.'

'Oh, alright, of course, that makes so much sense' said Sam, 'I remember that last pack of M&Ms. There were only yellows left because you don't eat them.'

Then Dean knew why. Sam knew he was getting sick and Sam didn't trust him enough to lead this hunt. Oh no, that wouldn't happen. He was slick and fine, and he'd not only get them to the thingy, but he'd kill it too. A memorable hunt, that's what it would be, something to write about in his own journal one day.

His chest creaked and he told it no.

-SPN-

'This is the hardest trail to follow' Sam showed him the map. Creatures liked to live where it was most difficult to get to, sometimes venturing out there for a nibble, 'the caves are at the end.'

Dean did not want a hard track. He wanted the impala to have wings.

'Yeah, alright' he slung his backpack over his shoulders 'let's get to it.'

'You're not even all hyper and annoying,' Sam followed him 'I thought you wanted something exciting and dangerous.'

'I love this,' Dean snapped, but it sounded more like a sniff. He had been looking forward to it, but that was before it felt like there something bleeding inside his throat. He couldn't tell Sam though, because Sam was full of adrenaline and vengeance and hunting lust that made his eyes both wild and cold. Dean normally reveled in that, but now his eyes were itching and he wanted to rub them like he was six.

'We'll set a medium fast pace' his brother said companionably, 'be there about 23:48 and we'll have enough time to set out all the traps.'

'Yes,' said Dean, automatically stepping in front and knocking rocks and roots away.

'Have you got the silver bullets?'

Dean stopped. He wasn't sure, he couldn't remember, and the box had been there…Sam looked at him suspiciously; he could be so suspicious it was suffocating. They were already quite awhile away from the car. There was nothing to it. Either he check for the bullets and run back to get them, or get eaten.

'Dean?' Sam asked, 'you do have them right?'

He swung his backpack in front –ouch, chest- and rooted inside. There was definitely no silver bullet case. There was definitely death for Dean. He'd do his last heroic act, let Sam live and let the creature eat him.

'Dean?' Sam was nagging now. Dean sniffed.

'Okay, I know this legend' Sam took a deep breath 'where if you shoot it in the eye, it will die.'

'Even with a normal bullet?' Dean blessed Sam's brain.

'Let's hope,' Sam almost snarled, which was a good reaction to the situation.

They walked, less companionably now, the hours darkened, Dean tried to hide his coughs. He felt an ache nipping at his senses, when his senses should be aware enough to ward against malignant bugs, monsters and not let things eat Sam.

His skin itched. His collar strangled. His eyelashes were so heavy, they would fall off.

They were talking again.

'Do you know that there's some sea salt in everything?' Sam said, because he had all this random knowledge from watching quiz shows or whatever, 'it's because we were all sunken under water once.'

'Uh huh,' replied Dean. Sam looked at him for a moment. When they went hunting, Sam would speak about trivia or homework or whatever he wanted, and Dean would chirp in with the snarky comments and jokes.

'Isn't it cool' Sam spoke like he was rehearsing something instead of wanting to say it, like he was slightly worried, 'that we're sort of made of stardust? That means we sort of have some special planet stuff inside us.'

Dean didn't understand what Sam was saying, it didn't make a lot of sense.

'Also,' his brother was now next to him and he didn't know how that happened 'if you study our genetics…Dean!'

He tripped.

It was cold with his face on the ground and his eyes shut tightly like he would sink into the salty sand. Sam tapped him on the shoulder, asking him if he was alright 'give me your hand'. He didn't want to get up that quickly. He was uncomfortable, must've scraped his forehead, elbows and knees, but for some strange reason, it was good to just lie here.

He didn't want to give his hand to Sam, because that meant he needed help and he couldn't remember something this embarrassing happening to his father. He'd jump up and shrug, swear the log because it had deliberately gotten in his way and tell Sam to stop hovering.

'Dean,' Sam's voice was soft, concerned and scared. Everybody was duped into thinking was some innocent sweet scholar, but he was actually very strong and somehow yanked Dean up by his shoulder. Dean was startled.

'Hey, hey,' Sam said 'it's alright.'

'Okay,' he replied. He wasn't alright. His head throbbed unnaturally.

'You'll need stitches on that cut, idiot' Sam shook his head, like it was all Dean's fault there was a log in the way and they shared genes with Saturn and monsters existed and they were hunters 'you should've just told me.'

'Huh?' It seemed like such a conclusive word, there was no more need to have any other vocabulary.

'What else? That you weren't feeling too good.'

'I am feeling better than you,' Dean sniffed indignantly 'it's not my fault I don't have super freaky night vision eyes like yours. We'll get there and I'll slash that creature so hard it'll dissolve.'

'I'm an idiot,' Sam mumbled, obviously not listening to him, 'I should never have listened to you.'

'Don't blame yourself' Dean sighed, 'it's not your fault. There's no fault, just dumb trees.'

'We can't walk any slower,' he said apologetically.

Sammy was quite a sweet kid. Dean didn't know where he got it from.

'I'm sorry Sammy' Dean said quietly. He took a deep, deep, deep breath and felt his chest expand. That was better. They had to move and he would be in charge. He quickly wiped the blood from his forehead, and randomly wondered what type of detergent would get it off his warmest jacket.

It was a bit tricky to keep with the gigantic strides of his brother along with a stuffy chest, but he was determined to not fail himself and endanger his brother, so he did it. They finally came in view of the caves, rough grey stone with gaping black holes like evil sores. He shuddered.

They climbed the crumbling rocks till a vantage position and Sam set up the guns. He was a better shot than Sam, and since they probably only have two chances at the most, he'd have to do it. Only, he wanted to throw up.

Stop it, stop it, stop it, he told his head, stop pounding like that.

'Take a quick nap,' Sam told him, which meant he was looking like cream cheese, because they never did something absurd as nap when hunting monsters this dangerous.

'I can't,' he mumbled and Sam shook his head. It really wasn't because he was being stubborn, just that he wanted to be sick and his head was full of fudge and the world was ending.

'Oh God,' he heard Sam mutter 'it's already up. Grab your rifle.'

Dean obeyed. He looked through the lenses. It was a dinosaur with forty rows of shark teeth and the claws of a griffin. He'd never seen anything like it. Sam swore.

It swiped the rocks, the mountains shuddered and then there was nothing.

It was a bad nothing.