When they are called into the office Dean grabs him by the elbow and helps him to his feet. Sam sags against him, his whole body threatening to cave in on itself as he shuffles down the hall. John follows a few steps behind, watching with intent.

Next thing Sam knows he's sitting on a plastic covered table, his brother is in the chair in front of him, his father standing off in the corner, arms folded and brow furrowed with what he can only assume is concern of some kind. Sam's eyes shift listlessly and his shoulders slump. Everything feels far away, like he is looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Then there is the incredible, unfathomable weight that presses down on every joint in his body. It is trying to drag him downward into the abyss, he knows it is, but he can do little to ward it off. His mind is sluggish. Making a proper thought involves trudging through sludge and he hardly has the energy to even keep his eyes open right now. He blinks for a long time.

The door clicks open and the doctor steps in, head down in his clipboard as he crosses something off.

"Hello, hello," he says cheerfully, looking up to address the room. "I'm Dr. Chase." He shakes Johns hand firmly. "And you must be…." He checks his notes. "Sam."

Sam's eyes slide open a fraction but he says nothing.

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "Not feeling well today, Sam, are we?"

"It started yesterday morning," Dean says quickly. He's on his feet now, standing next to his brother.

"Actually it was the night before," John corrects. His voice is taunt and gruff. "He wasn't looking good and I think that's when the fever started."

The doctor nods and stoops to regard Sam under the mop of hair that has fallen over his eyes. "Can you tell me how you're feeling, Sam?"

"Hm?" Sam blinks at him. He knows he's been asked a question but he can't process it. The words scramble and fall foreign on his ears.

The doctor frowns and pulls a penlight from his breast pocket. "Let's have a look and see what's going on." With coarse, firm hands, the doctor guides Sam's chin up. His thumb lifts his eyelid and he shines his pen into Sam's bloodshot eye. Immediately Sam recoils, turning away with a groan.

"Looks like miosis in the left eye, both eyes are severely bloodshot. Could be the result of a high fever. Could you open up for me, Sam. I just want to get a read on your temperature."

Sam opens his mouth a crack and the doctor slides a plastic, sterile tasting thermometer under his tongue and places a hand against Sam's forehead. The touch is so cool against his burning skin that he melts into it. His eyes shut and for a second the voices in the room blur into vague mumbling. That's when he hears it, clear as a shot in the dead of night.

Sam…

A voice is calling to him, beckoning to him.

Sam…

Sam feels the weight of his body deepen against the doctors hand. He wants to find the voice that calls to him. There's something familiar about it, something warm and safe and comforting. He longs for it.

Come to me, Sam…

The doctor pulls his hand away and is just about to read aloud Sam's 104.5 temperature when a gurgled sound bubbles from Sam's throat.

"Shit, he's throwing up," Dean says breathlessly and in a swift motion he grabs the small trashcan by the door and holds it in Sam's lap as a foamy white substance dribbles from his slack jaw into the can. His body hitches, eyes still shut.

"Sam? Sammy open your eyes," Dean says hurriedly. "Dammit, Doc, what's wrong with him?"

The doctor moves quickly, "He's seizing. Lay him on his side, I'll have the nurse call for an ambulance." Together he and Dean lay Sam's jolting body down on his left side, tilting his head forward so that he doesn't choke, all the while John moves with them, eyes fixed and unblinking.

When the ambulance arrives the world swirls into a haze of shouts and motions. Two EMTs speaking loud and fast shuffle about limp Sam as they pack him onto a stretcher, the sheen of sweat on Sam's forehead soaking through the padded gurney almost instantly. Sam's eyes dart behind closed gray lids and he pants heavily. Dean is shouting, following at their heels when John reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around suddenly. His face is urgent and intense. "Dean you go in the ambulance with Sam. I need to make a phone call. You stay with him, you hear me?"

Dean swallows hard into his chest and nods confidently.

"Good. I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can." He turns and starts off in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Dean calls.

"Stay with Sam," John orders. He doesn't look back.