"He has turned to steel, in the great magnetic field!
When he traveled time for the future of mankind.
Nobody wants him. He just stares at the world.
Planning his vengeance that he will soon unfurl!"
Dean cranked the music up even louder, and Sam groaned. He had heard Dean sing "Ironman" at least six times during their drive, complete with grunting the guitar intro and a squealing guitar solo.
"Come on Sammy!" Dean cried as he yelled "Now the time is hear for ironman to spread fear."
"Dean, I already sang it about a billion times," Sam muttered, realizing that he probably sounded pouty but not really caring.
"Aww, Sammy, can't handle Black Sabbath?" Dean taunted, and Sam looked out the window, pointedly ignoring his brother. "Pansy." Sam turned to look at Dean.
"Really? Really, Dean? Throwing down insults now? You're so juvenile!" Dean's snicker turned into full on laughter at Sam's indignation. Sam glared at him and, reaching over, turned off the radio. Dean's laughter stopped abruptly and so did the car. Sam flew forward, nearly smashing his head on the dashboard as the Impala's breaks squealed. Dean turned to look at his brother, fire burning in his eyes.
"No one, NO ONE, turns off my radio and lives!" Dean yelled, and, launching himself at Sam gave his little brother a very effective wet willy.
"No, Dean, NO!" Sam screamed, trying to contain his laughter even as he cringed away, horrified at the feeling of his brother's wet finger in his ear.
"Oh yes, Sam," Dean answered evilly, and abruptly switched tactics, reaching for Sam's chest.
"Dean, you are not giving me a purple nurple!" Sam screamed, wriggling onto his stomach as Dean reached for him. Both boys collapsed into a heap of laughter, Dean wiping at his streaming eyes. Sam couldn't remember the last time they'd just wrestled and was surprised at how good it felt to just be normal brothers for a little while. That is, if they were ever "normal brothers." Sam's musings were cut short when Dean's laughter disintegrated into a coughing fit. Sam looked at him warily and Dean held up a hand.
"Don't say it," he muttered between coughs, and Sam sighed. He knew that Dean was way more susceptible to infections like pneumonia.
"Dean," he started in a low voice, but Dean shook his head.
"I'm serious Sam. Just a cough." They took a moment, studied each other. The silence was broken when Dean spoke up. "I'm also serious that if you touch my radio again, it'll be the last thing you ever do." Sam smiled a bit, but the moment was over, and they both slid to their respective seats.
"Dean, if you're sick, you really do need to get it checked out," Sam said, and Dean didn't look at him, just kept looking at the road.
"I know Sam. I really do. It's just a cough," Dean answered, and Sam was surprised by the sincerity of his brother's tone. "I'll be the first to let you know if it's something I can't handle anymore." Sam was oddly comforted by that, even though he knew that Dean's 'something he couldn't handle' was significantly worse than most people's.
"Promise?" Sam asked quietly, staring intently at his brother.
"Yeah."
When they finally drove into Bigfork, Montana, two hours later, both boys were wiped out, Dean especially showing the length of their day all over his face. Sam took careful note of the bags under his eyes and the more pale cast to his skin. He quickly got out and got a room, making sure that it was one close to a parking spot so that the trek to the car would be minimal. It proved to be a wise decision as Dean stubbornly refused to let his younger brother take his bag in and ended up staggering through the door, barely keeping upright.
"Tomorrow we'll go talk to the local police, yeah?" Dean asked from his prone position on the bed. Sam nodded.
"Yeah. I figure they'll probably have pictures of something of the bodies, we can figure out where it's been happening for the most part, and then that night or the next day we can head in." Dean raised his arm and gave Sam a thumbs up, then let his arm drop heavily onto the bed. "You should get some rest so you'll be ready."
"Gee, ya think?" Dean muttered dryly, voice already becoming slurred as he drifted to sleep. Sam looked at him and shook his head.
"Are you going to sleep in your clothes?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.
"Unless you want to take them off," Dean answered, then added, "Scratch that. You might actually do it. Yes. I am sleeping in my clothes." Sam shrugged and got ready for bed. By the time he'd finished brushing his teeth, he could hear Dean snoring.
SPNSPNSPN
The next morning, Dean was still looking too pale for Sam's liking, and he was coughing more regularly. Sam was worried, but he also didn't want to infringe on his brother when they'd reached a tentative agreement the day before.
"Sam? What do Forest Service guys wear?" Dean called, and Sam inwardly cursed.
"I don't actually know, Dean, let's just go with suits and hope that's okay," he answered. Dean nodded and pulled the bathroom door shut, coughing loudly.
Half an hour later, the brothers walked into the police station in suits, both trying to look confident.
"What are you boys here about?" A gruff looking man asked when they approached the front desk.
"We're with the Forest Service," Sam answered. "This is Deputy Young and I'm Deputy Johnson. We're here about the disappearances you've been having lately. I understand you think it might be some kind of animal…?" The man looked at them suspiciously.
"Don't look like no Forest Service rangers I've ever seen," he said, running a hand over his stubbly chin. Dean flashed him a smile and stifled a cough.
"Yeah, we're a bit classier than your run of the mill ranger," he said, and the man only narrowed his eyes further. Sam gave Dean a sideways glance and Dean shut up.
"Well, I'll let the sheriff talk to you," the man muttered, waving a hand to have them follow. They entered a small office where a short man with a large beard sat behind a huge desk loaded with paperwork and sat down in two hard wooden chairs.
"Sheriff McAllister, these boys aim to talk to you about them disappearin' campers we've had of late," he announced, and the sheriff looked up in surprise.
"Where you boys from?" He asked.
"Forest Service," Sam replied, and Dean tried and failed to give a reassuring look as he coughed.
"Well then, I expect you'll be wantin' to see the pictures we took of them bodies," the sheriff said, looking hard at Dean. "You're Forest Service?" Sam nodded as Dean coughed, and the sheriff didn't seem convinced.
"Sir, even the forest rangers can get a cold," Dean said by way of explaining his cough, and McAllister shrugged.
"Guess you're right, son. If you all will come with me, I'll show you the pictures," he said, and stood up. When the boys stood up, Sam noticed with a pang of anxiety how the movement made Dean lose even more color, and he swayed ominously. Sam put an arm out to steady him and was shoved off.
"'M okay," Dean muttered, though he clearly wasn't. The sheriff had already walked ahead and didn't notice Dean's faltering, so the boys were able to quickly catch up with him. He led them down an ancient, rundown hallway to a room full of old filing cabinets. McAllister seemed to know exactly where to go and quickly retrieved a folder.
"Here they are," he said, spreading them out for the brothers to inspect. Sam frowned as he looked at them, glancing at Dean to see if his brother thought the same thing, alarmed when Dean made no indication of suspecting anything. The marks on the bodies were not at all consistent with a Wendigo; Sam didn't know what they were consistent with. There appeared to be slashes all over the bodies, but they weren't consistent enough to be claw marks. Dean didn't seem to think anything was wrong, and Sam wondered if he was feeling okay.
"What do you think?" McAllister asked, looking at them expectantly. Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged.
"I'm not entirely sure," he answered, and Dean nodded in agreement. "We'll have to go see if we can find tracks of some sort." As they walked out, Dean whispered to Sam, "Wendigo?"
"Um, not sure," Sam answered. He could tell that Dean wasn't fully aware or he would've seen the same things Sam noticed, and looking closely at his brother's face, he could see the slight flush of his cheeks and slight glaze of his eyes. He was running a damn fever.
"Well, we'll figure it out," Dean said confidently before coughing again. Sam nodded absently, coming to a decision. Dean was sitting this one out, whether he wanted to or not.
Dean's going to hate me!Sam thought to himself, but he knew that his brother's health was worth it. As they climbed into the Impala and Dean started singing along with "Back in Black," Sam knew that he was going to act that night. Alone.
A/N: Song is Ironman by Black Sabbath; more action next time!