SUMMARY: Sam suddenly falls deathly ill shortly after they all return from the apocalypse world with the refugees. Dean is racing against time to find the cure before his brother dies. Again. And permanently this time.
A/N: Hello, everyone! It's been a while. I'm sure that most of you had seen the finale episode of Season 13. Well, this story took place right before the finale, within hours after the whole gang jumped through the rift as they returned from the apocalypse world. Let's see how it goes. Spoilers ahead to all who hasn't seen Episode 13. You've been warned.
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Something woke Dean up from the most peaceful sleep he had ever had in months.
Was it a sound, or a movement somewhere? He couldn't really tell. But he needed to find out, just to be sure. The bunker was now crowded with the escapees from the apocalypse world, so it could mean anything. A pillow fight between the teenage girls, maybe? Hungry men raiding the pantry for food and more beer? Or some poor sod could be having an accident with the toilet. Who knows?
Sighing, he rolled over onto his back and stared ruefully at the ceiling. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that the time was almost 3.00 in the morning. He grumbled in disgust. He knew he couldn't get back to sleep until he was fully satisfied that nothing was wrong, and so he got out bed, albeit reluctantly. And with lots of cursing involved.
Outside in the hallway, everything was quiet and very still, as it usually did when there were just the two brothers living there, which was kind of odd now that they had at least thirty people under the roof. Luckily the bunker had many available rooms so everyone had beds to sleep in, even though most of them had to bunk in with a roommate. It was still a luxury compared to the poor state world they had left behind.
Barefoot except for the socks on his feet, Dean's footsteps made no sound as he walked aimlessly about, pausing outside each room he passed to place his ears against the door. No odd noises detected though, so he moved on until he reached the war room.
He was about to head into the kitchen when he noticed that the lamps were on in the library. Frowning, he changed direction. He wasn't surprised to see his younger brother sitting at the table, concentrating hard on the screen of his laptop.
Dean rolled his eyes. He had found the cause that woke him up. Only Sam alone could send him a distress signal without actually sending it.
"Dude," said Dean, as he warily climbed the short steps into the library, "What the hell are you doing?"
Sam looked up, a little startled by his older brother's sudden appearance. "Um…I uh…making a list."
"What list? And why now? Can't it wait till morning?" Dean groused. He leaned over Sam's shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. "What's this? Canned food, milk, eggs, flour, first aid supplies, detergents, bedsheets, shirts, pants, towels, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo…err…tampons? Really Sam? Tampons?"
Blushing, Sam snapped down the laptop screen and glared at his brother. "Yes. Tampons. Because there are at least ten women residing here now, including Mom."
Dean blinked. "Does Mom still needs to use tampons? I mean, I thought at her age she's already—jeez, never mind that! What I'm trying to say is, what's the list for?"
"It's the list of supplies for our new friends from the apocalypse world, in case you still can't figure it out."
"They won't even be here if not for your smart suggestion," Dean incredulously said. "Who's gonna pay for all that?"
Sam shrugged. "Us, of course."
Dean made a face. "Of course. Who else it's gonna be?"
"They are now under our protection, so we need to look after them and tend to their needs. I'm trying to figure out how much it's gonna cost us in total. They'll need food, new clothes, amenities and such," Sam said. He flipped open the laptop and resumed typing entries into a spreadsheet, putting numbers under the column entitled 'Cost per Head'.
Grumbling, Dean pulled out a nearby chair and sat down next to his brother. "You do realize we're not running a boarding house here, let alone a hotel? Heck, this is not even frat house!"
"I know that, Dean. But what else should we do? Let them roam around wearing the only clothes on their back, sharing a toothbrush between them, hogging our towels?"
"Ugh. Okay, okay. I got your point, but…really? We need to pay for all this? How much will it cost us anyway?"
"Relax. It's not like we're going bankrupt any time soon. Besides, I'm gonna dig into the Men of Letters' coffer."
"You want to use the cash inside the old safe we found hidden a few doors away from the dungeon?"
"That's right. The last time I checked, there are at least a quarter millions of dollars in there."
"And I want them to remain that way!" Dean shot back. "In case…"
"In case you want to buy a Ferrari later? Or perhaps, a Lamborghini?" Sam said with a smirk.
Dean gasped out loud. "Don't you dare insult my Baby!"
His brother's reaction was so comical that it caused Sam to chuckle. Still smiling, he continued to type into the computer.
The older Winchester, however, didn't miss a thing. He watched his brother's face closely. Despite the smile and the dimples showing, Dean clearly noticed the lines appearing on Sam's forehead as he occasionally winced, and the red eyes and the clammy looking skin, sheens of sweat visible in his hairline.
"Dude, you're okay?"
Sam paused. "Err… yeah. Why do you ask?"
"You don't look so hot."
Sam snorted. "But I am hot. Maggie said so. You know Maggie, the girl with two braids? I overheard her telling that to her roommate, that Asian girl, when I showed them both their room last night."
Dean felt like slapping his brother upside the head. "I'm not kidding, you moron. You don't look too good."
"I feel fine, Dean."
"Liar."
"What?" Sam glared back. "Get off my back, man. I told you I'm fine. Stop being a mother hen."
"Then why can't you sleep? Why are you still awake at…uh…" Dean gave his watch a brief glance, "At 3 a.m. I know you, little brother. Something's going on."
"Nothing's going on. I just need to prepare the list." Sam avoided his brother's gaze, which was a telling sign that something was indeed going on.
"That damned list can wait. Do it during the day after you get a good night sleep," Dean interjected as he continued to stare. "Why are you shivering?"
"I'm not—" Sam glowered back. "Go away, Dean. I'm busy."
"You're hiding something from me."
"I always hide something from you. Now leave me alone."
Dean stared some more before he said, "I'll go get you some water."
Sam paused and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Whatever, dude."
With a shake of his head, Dean walked towards the kitchen, his mind busily analyzing his brother's peculiar behavior. Sure, Sam was a grown man now, no longer the scrawny kid who always ran to his big brother to get his cuts and bruises tended to, or to snuggle close for comfort when he caught the flu. After decades of battling monsters and demons and rogue angels, Sam had become very tough, both physically and mentally. A real badass, even.
However, Dean could tell that there was a fine crack deep in his brother's core. Hundreds of years sharing a cage with Lucifer in hell could do that to you. Lately, Sam had this tendency to deny any sign of illnesses or discomfort, as if it were a shield over his many flaws. He refused to appear weak because he didn't want to feel vulnerable, that much Dean understood.
Dean also knew that Sam was as stubborn as a mule and would hardly admit it even if he was inches from dying. But big brother Dean always found a way to get around that. As subtle as he could, he could always made Sam reveal whatever was bothering him.
Opening the fridge, Dean took out a bottle of mineral water. With a shrug, he also reached for a can of beer.
This one's for me.
After grabbing a packet of strawberries that Sam loved so much, he closed the fridge and headed back to the library.
The sight of Sam slumping over his laptop caused him to freeze though. "Sammy?"
"Huh? What?" Sam jerked upright, staring blearily at his older brother.
"Dude, seriously? You are clearly not well." Dean came near, putting everything he carried onto the table. Without warning, he reached out to place the back of his palm against Sam's forehead. "Holy crap! You're like a furnace!"
Sam irritably swiped his brother's hand away. "It's nothing. Just a little fever."
"Just a little…?" Dean sighed in exasperation. "When did you start feeling unwell? Come on, man. Tell me. We just returned from the apocalypse world. This could be a very serious problem."
Sam mumbled inaudibly.
"Excuse me? I didn't catch that."
"I said, I feel a little off the day I stepped into the compound with Lucifer trailing behind me."
Dean gaped for several moments, before he exploded, "What the hell, Sam! That was two days ago! You feel sick that long and you don't even bother telling me?"
"I wasn't feeling sick, not then. Just off, okay? Besides, we were real busy with so many things going around." Sam shrugged. "But, yeah, okay. I'm definitely sick now."
"Oh, you think?"
"Dean…"
"How did this happen? What kind of bug did you catch over there?
"Who the hell knows? Maybe it's just the flu."
"Flu, my ass." Dean was still fuming. He uncapped the bottled water before passing it to his brother. "Drink it. Now."
Sam only blinked in response.
"Drink it or I'll pour it all over you," Dean threatened.
Sighing, Sam grabbed the bottle and chugged down the water until only half of it remained. "Thanks. I didn't realize I needed that."
"Look, I'm gonna go get Cas. He can heal you."
"Um…Cas isn't here."
"What? Where is he?"
"I don't know. He left around midnight. He only told me he was going out, and he took Jack with him. I guess Cas wants to give Jack some pep talk. The kid is still upset since I told him that Lucifer was killed by Michael. He takes it real hard. If Jack finds out the real story, that I shoved Lucifer away from the rift…I don't think he's gonna feel any better."
Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "Well, that sucks. But you had to do it. There's no way we're letting Lucifer return here."
"Right, but it doesn't make me feel good about it either." Sam took a couple more swallows of water. "Poor Jack."
"Let's concentrate back on you, big guy," Dean responded. "I think you need to go to your room and get rest."
"But—"
"No but! You're obviously ill, and I'm pretty sure you got whatever this is from the other side. So I'm not taking any chances. Besides, you look like crap."
"Yeah, I feel like crap too," Sam finally admitted.
"Now you're saying." He grabbed Sam's upper arm and pulled him out of the chair. "Come on, get up. Go lie down."
"You're bossy," Sam complained. "Wait, my computer…"
"I got it, princess. Go."
Sam staggered away, still complaining about overbearing older brothers in general. Dean raised his gaze to the ceiling and muttered, "Why me?"
Shutting down the laptop, he then grabbed the empty water bottle to throw it into a nearby trashcan. Gathering the packet of strawberries and laptop into his arms, he went after his brother who had disappeared into the hallway leading to the living quarters.
Suddenly he heard Sam crying out for him, followed by the sound of a thump.
"Sammy?" Dean hastily placed everything he carried onto a nearby table and ran. He rounded a corner in a rush, almost crashing onto his brother who lay face down on the floor, unconscious.
"Sam!" Dean dropped to his knees. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder to turn him around, and was instantly alarmed by Sam's deathly pale face. "Sammy? Come on, brother. Wake up!"
With a low moan, Sam's eyes fluttered open. "D…?"
"Yeah, it's me. What the hell, man? I told you to lie down in bed, not on the floor in the hallway," Dean said, half joking. He then noticed something much more disturbing. The whiteness of Sam's eyes were now filled with blood.
"Holy shit…"
As bloodied tears ran down his cheeks, Sam weakly moaned in pain, "Head…eyes…really hurt…"
Gathering his brother's upper half into his arms, Dean rocked him slightly without even realizing doing it. "It's alright, Sammy. I'm gonna call Cas right now. You're gonna be okay."
"D…" Sam's eyes were now closed and his head listed weakly to one side.
"Sam?" Dean softly called, but he got no further response. To his dismay, blood began to freely trickle from Sam's nostril and both ears.
"No, no, no…Oh my god, please no…Sam...Sammy!"
Raising his head, Dean finally cried out in desperation, "Somebody, help!"
TBC…
A/N : Ah...I so love cliffies. Don't you?
