A/n: I would like to thank anyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story, any others, and/or me as a writer.

SPOILER ALERT: this takes place after "The Hunter Games" 10x10.

Thank you miXiZ and LilyBolt for your constant support and friendship.

I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters

Chapter 1

Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Bodies. So many bodies spread throughout the room. His green eyes moved to search the different faces. They hadn't been monsters. Not in the sense of them being the creatures that Dean normally hunted, but they hadn't exactly been good innocent men either. However no matter how bad a person may be, the Winchesters did their damnedest not to take another human's life. After all, a human was a human, no matter how bad. That's not to say they hadn't had to end a few here and there before, but they avoided it at all costs. Normally. But Dean wasn't exactly "normal." Not anymore. His eyes swept over the motionless bloodied empty bodies that littered the room, then glided over to the crimson drenched blade that he clutched in his hands. It wasn't the First Blade, it hadn't needed to be. In fact, he feared what picture he would have painted had it been. The Mark was bad enough, even as it sat on his arm, but you add the First Blade and it's like a key to a lock. Behind that lock was an unspeakable evil that overthrew any of Dean's self control in both mind and body. More than likely, the men would have been unrecognizable. Not that he had known them to begin with. One had claimed himself "a father figure" while the other had tried to take advantage of Casitel's vessel's daughter Claire. The others, nameless. Henchman number whatever.

"Dean." Dean didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see the elicit look that he would surely be faced with."Dean, hey." He felt Sam's giant form drop to his knees to match him. He grabbed Dean's head in his hands and forced him to look into those hazel doe eyes the older brother had tried to avoid. The younger of the two gave him a look of pure...what was it? Terror? Shock? Disbelief? Disgust? Disappointment? All of the above? "Tell me you had to do this?" It wasn't a request, it was a plea. A plea that his big brother hadn't just completely slaughtered a house full of men for no reason other than because he lost control of himself. Dean's eyes fluttered and bounced like a child who knew they had done something wrong. His gaze shifted between trying to look Sam in the eyes and studying the floor where he was kneeling.

"I didn't, I didn't mean to," he mumbled, finally losing the battle of holding his little brother's gaze. Sam shook his head, his attention never wavering from the man before him.

"No. Tell me it was them, or-"

An unpleasant sound woke Dean from his dream. Only it hadn't actually been a dream. It had been more of a memory. A memory of the night that things took a turn for the worse. A night not so long ago where he learned just how much control the Mark of Cain truly had over him. He catapulted from his bed, his black t-shirt damp from sweat. His sweats matching in moisture. Dean sat wiping his forehead on his arm, his breath coming in short pants. Then the sound that had disturbed his sleep the first time, sounded again. Dean was grateful for the interruption, but that was short lived when he became conscious of what it was that had caused him to wake. He quickly flung back his bed covers and padded off out of his room and through the hall. The sound of his bare feet slapping against the cold hard floor was only scarcely heard over the ruckus that echoed through the building. The bunker was freezing, which wasn't exactly surprising being that they were nearing the beginning of winter and it had been raining for three days straight. Goosebumps started to prickle Dean's arms as cold sweat met even colder air, but he ignored it.
The older Winchester stopped only briefly in front of a door to his left before barging in, causing Sam to jump and his attention to shoot towards the sudden intrusion.

"Dean-"He started but before he could finish he exploded into another coughing fit. The younger brother quickly turned so that he could cough into the bend of his arm. His whole body shook and shot forward with every outburst. Dean studied Sam, not moving from his spot at the doorway. Finally the coughs subsided and Sam pulled his arm away. His eyes moved to meet Dean's, his mouth slightly agape so that he could breath. Now that his brother wasn't shielding his face, he could see everything. The bags around Sam's eyes looked as though he hadn't slept in months and the hazel color that usually shined, looked dull. His skin was a considerable few shades paler, giving him a piqued tone that would give Dracula a run for his money. He sniffed and tried to clear his throat, only revving up more mucus deep within.

"You sick?" Dean nodded in his brother's direction. Although he said it with an upwards tone as though it were, it wasn't really meant to be a question for the younger man. It had been more along the lines of him letting his brother know he was aware and therefore, no point in lying about it.

"What?" Sam asked in a raspy voice "no." Dean crossed his arms over his chest giving his little brother a stern stare.

"You wanna try that again?"

"I'm not...I'm fine," Sam promised.

"Really? You look dead, you got your uh, 'sexy voice' going, and I was woken up by a sickly explosion that went off in YOUR room. Not to mention the mucus on mucus action you got going on."

"Dean-" A loud vibration echoed in the room interrupting them. Both brothers turned to look at Sam's phone as it crawled around the nightstand with every vibration it emulated. The younger Winchester's eyes flicked back to his brother momentarily then picked it up. "Rudy, hey," he greeted.

"Oh man Sam, you sound terrible. You sick or something?"

"No, I'm good," he lied as he tried to clear his throat again, his gaze steering clear of his brother's.

"Maybe I should call and talk to Dean about this instead," the hunter said wearily.

"I'm fine. What is it?" Sam pried, his voice alternating between raspy and nasally depending on his pitch. It was silent for a few seconds longer, as if the man was debating hanging up and calling the older Winchester.

"A buddy of mine says there's something weird going on at Ulumay Wildlife Sanctuary in Merritt Island Florida. Folks are showing up dead. No blood, no stab wounds, no bullet holes, no broken bones, all in good health. Most of the victims were young things, like teens and early to mid twenties. I think there were two guys in their thirties."

"Yeah, that's not normal," the younger Winchester agreed.

"I would check it out, but I'm working a ghoul case in Ohio so..."

"Yeah no, we'll check it out."

"I'll send you the location and any other bits I got that can help you."

"Thanks Rudy."

"Yeah no problem. Listen, Sam, maybe you should let Dean get this one. You sound awful."

"Thanks, I'm good." With that he hung up the phone and turned to face his brother.

"People are dropping dead with no signs as to why. No wounds or blood, all of them healthy."

"Sounds like it could be down our alley," Dean said nodding his head.

"Rudy's texting me the location."

"Good. Well, once you get it, send it to me and I'll go have a look," Dean said.

"You mean WE'LL go have a look. I'm coming with you Dean," the younger man corrected.

"Nice try brother, but your ass is staying put."

"The hell I am," he countered. His brow furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his gaze steady. Dean could sense a "Sammy bitchface" in his future.

"Sam we aren't playing this game ok? You're sick, it's been raining for days, and you're NOT going anywhere."

"I'm FINE." Dean fixed his brother with a serious stare then moved from his spot at the doorway over to him. Dean raised his hand, cupped it slightly, and put it to Sam's forehead. He hadn't been able to keep it on long before the younger brother pulled his head away, but he hadn't needed to.

"Dean stop."

"You're burning up. The only thing you'll be doing is laying in bed resting. No hunting, no leaving the bunker, do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Dean," Sam whined getting to his feet.

"It's just a little cold. I've hunted with worse, YOU'VE hunted with worse."

"Oh no no," Dean shook his head. "Don't even try to get out of this by bringing me into it. It doesn't matter what I've hunted with, you're staying in. I can't have you going on a hunt in the pouring rain sounding like a defective cat trying to purr."

"What?" Sam asked squinting at his brother.

"Don't think I can't hear you from here. You're jam packed full of mucus and snot," Dean replied. "What happens when you go into a coughing fit and the creature takes advantage of your disadvantage, huh? Or what if it gives us away on a stakeout? Or your fever gets so bad that you pass out? Or you get pneumonia?"

"This is bullshit Dean and you know it. You're acting like we've never hunted while being sick before," Sam growled defensively.

"You have a temperature," Dean shot back.

"Yeah? And? Just give me some pills and I'll be good," Sam said with a shrug.

"You're not going,"Dean repeated in a calm paternal tone. Sam ran his hands through his hair and turned away from his brother. "Sammy, I'm sorry, but it's just not going to happen. Not this time," Dean gave his little brother a fixed apologetic stare. Sam spun back around swaying slightly. Dean had been expecting a bitchface, but what he got was something more unnerving. Sam's dull eyes were burning into him, a question clearly sitting on his brain.

"Why?" His voice was barely more than a whisper and Dean had no doubt all this arguing was not helping his situation.

"What?" The older Winchester asked caught off guard.

"Why are you trying so hard to make me stay?" His eyes shifted from quizzical to suspicious.

"I told you-"

"No," the younger brother shook his head. "No, I don't buy that."

"Well sorry Sammy, I'm not selling, I'm telling. It will be safer if you just take time to sleep, eat some soup, maybe watch a little porn, and get better." Sam opened his mouth to retort, but another vibration interrupted him. He looked down at his newly lit up phone. The text message had read the address and listed a few names. No doubt they were the names of the victims. Dean looked over as if trying to read what was on the screen."What'd he say?" He asked. Sam didn't respond right away, just looked at the screen as if trying to memorize all the information. "Sam," Dean raised his voice, taking his brother's lack of an answer as a means to show his anger at being told he couldn't go.

"Merritt Island Florida," Sam mumbled "and a few names. Probably vics." Dean nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to go make you some grub, pack, and I'll be on my way." Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean put his hand up and closed his eyes. "In the meantime," he started up again before he could be interrupted "you stay here, rest up, maybe do a bit of digging with those names, and let me know if you find anything. Text me the vics and the address." The brothers eyes met again and now Dean was finally faced with the bitchface he had been waiting for since the start of their dispute. When nothing else was said, though much was conveyed through glares and he could tell there was much that wanted to be said still, he turned around and left; closing his brooding brother's door behind him.