"Forget it, Ed. The Goddamned thing only works for two minutes. God, just leave it alone." Alan grumbled as Edgar put the salt water rag back into the bowl. Edgar frowned in defeat. Then he picked up the Benadryl box and pulled a pill square from the sheet. He pried the pill loose and gave it to Alan who slowly lifted it to his mouth with a tired hand.

Edgar helped his brother hold the glass of water to his lips. He watched sadly as Alan swallowed down the pill and water with a few heavy and struggled gulps. He took the water back and set it on the side table. He sighed quietly through his nose, brushing back Alan's dirty hair. Four days and counting.

Alan had tried to get up on his own to take a shower earlier on, had become dizzy and went down with a loud thud that had woken Edgar who'd been sleeping on the sofa. Edgar barged into the room, and was severely taken aback to see his brother collapsed on the floor.

"Jesus! Alan! Shit! Alan!"

Edgar fell to his knees beside his unconscious brother, quickly turning him over. He brushed back Alan's hair to get a look at his face. Alan was a sickly pale. Edgar cupped Alan's neck between his fingers. He sighed, relieved to feel a pulse on either side of his brother's neck.

"Mm…" Alan groaned. Edgar released his brother's neck.

"Alan? Alan, you okay?" He asked, pressing his palms into the floor.

"Nn…" Alan seemed to be trying to open his eyes.

"It's okay. C'mon." Edgar reached under Alan's arms and around his back. He grasped his own wrists to ensure a secure grip and then started to pull Alan up. "C'mon." He dragged Alan up as he got to his feet. He turned around and slowly laid Alan into his bed. He pulled Alan's legs up onto the bed and pulled the crumpled blanket over his brother.

Alan murmured, "I wanna…take a…shower…"

Edgar shook his head in disbelief at his brother's words. He sat on the bed. "Are you kidding? I've been helping you to the bathroom for the past four days! You can't even stand up!"

"Ed…"

"No. Well…maybe you can take a bath or something."

"I will not take a bath. Baths are for children. Baths are for girls. Baths are not for men." Alan opened his eyes, weakly but sternly looking at his brother. Any other day, Edgar would have intensely agreed with that statement. But at that moment he felt that it shouldn't matter.

Alan was now refusing the salt water treatment as well as a bath.

Edgar sighed, and rubbed at his face. Then he got up from the bed. He grunted as he left the bedroom, "I gotta make a call."

He went down the hallway and into the living room. He started fishing through the mess of pizza boxes, newspapers, food wrappers, garlic chains, Styrofoam cups, and comic books. He knuckles brushed against something hard and he heard the rotary telephone ding in protest. He cursed quietly, shaking his knuckles.

He swiped away the newspaper and pulled the black telephone from the coffee table. He plopped down on the sofa and set the telephone on his knee. He picked up the heavy receiver and started spinning a phone number on the dial.

He brought his left foot up onto the sofa and let his hand wrap around his knee. He held the receiver against his ear. The phone rang twice before he heard a click.

"Hello?" Edgar recognized Sam's voice.

"Hey, Sammy. It's Edgar Frog."

He heard Sam chuckle, "Oh, hey Edgar. What's goin' on? I haven't seen you or Alan around lately. Oh, which reminds me, I've been,"

"Sammy…Alan is sick." Edgar cut in.

There was a pause on the other line. Edgar was about to ask if Sam was still there but was stopped when Sam spoke, "He's sick?"

"Yeah. Either he's sick or its vampire voodoo. Come to think of it…I'm starting to wonder if it is bloodsucker voodoo…" Edgar said, narrowing his eyes and looking around the living room.

"Really? Well, what's wrong with him?" Sam asked. Edgar opened his mouth to speak but paused when he heard Sam's mom Lucy speak in the background, "Sammy, who's on the phone?"

Sam's voice spoke away from Edgar's ear, joining the background, "Its Edgar. His brother is sick."

"His brother is sick? Oh that's too bad. What does he have?"

Sam's voice came back to Edgar, "Do you have any idea what he has?" Edgar shook his head against the phone, "You know damn well that I am no medical expert Sammy. I know stab wounds. I know gashes. I know blood. I do not know sick. I am a vampire hunter. Not a doctor."

Sam spoke away from the phone, aware that Edgar was a bit agitated, "He said he doesn't know."

Edgar sighed shortly through his nostrils and grumbled, "That's not what I said."

"Oh. Well, what are his symptoms?" Lucy asked in the background. Sam repeated, "What are his symptoms?"

Edgar gripped his knee tighter, "Snot, and lot's of it." Sam cringed, "Gross." Edgar nodded, "Yeah, it is gross. Just yesterday he coughed up a softball-sized hunk of phlegm." His voice was habitually collected and flavored with all of his natural badassness, but truly he was worried. He wasn't going to let Sam hear that vulnerability though.

"Okay…that is…disgusting." Sam said, his voice slightly shaky.

"Well, what are his symptoms, Sammy? Oh here, give me the phone." Lucy's voice sounded impatiently. "My mom's getting on the phone. She knows a lot of stuff about sick, Edgar." There was rustling on the other end as Sam handed off the phone.

"Hello, Edgar. This is Lucy."

Edgar grunted in greeting.

"So you said your brother is sick? Tell me his symptoms." Lucy said. Edgar drew in a breath, "He's blowing his nose a lot. He can't breathe through it. He's coughing up mucus. He's tired and weak. His eyes are red. His throat's buggin' him. He can't make it to the bathroom alone. A little while ago he got dizzy and passed out when he tried to get up on his own."

"Okay. Does he have a fever?"

Edgar nodded, adjusting the receiver, "Yeah. His skin's kinda warm. I don't have a thermometer."

"Alright. Have you been giving him anything?"

"Medicine?" Edgar asked.

"Yes."

"Yeah. I've been giving him that Benadryl stuff." That was because the symptoms named off on the front of the box were some of what Alan had.

"That's an allergy pill. It sounds like he has a bad cold, maybe even pneumonia. Do you have any Tylenol?"

Edgar shook his head against the receiver. "No." He'd torn the house apart looking for medicines that would help his brother.

"Okay, I'll send Sam over with some. What have you been feeding him?" Lucy asked. Edgar shrunk into the couch slightly, looking down at his knuckles, "…Leftover pizza."

Lucy sighed, "Oh, you boys. Do you have orange juice?"

"No."

There was a long pause, "…I'll send Sam over with some things."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Bye." Lucy said sweetly.

Edgar laid the receiver in the cradle and leaned his head back with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes. He'd had spotty sleep himself, between habitually waking up to check on Alan, or being woken up by Alan's coughing.

"Edgar. Hey Edgar."

Edgar jumped from sleep with a grunt of surprise, unsheathing the wooden stake that was in between the couch cushions. Sam jumped backwards, holding a hand up. "Easy, Edgar! It's just me!"

Edgar's heart pounded against his ribs and he lowered his head, closing his eyes with a sigh. He lowered the stake and asked, "What's wrong with you, Sammy? Don't you know to knock? Not to come sneaking up on a vampire hunter? Especially one who's sleeping."

Sam moved to set down a paper bag, paused and started looking for a clean place to set it. "I did knock. I was calling your name out on your doorstep. And I didn't sneak up on you." He nudged the pizza box on the coffee table aside and set down the paper bag. He was used to the untidiness of the Frog house. It was actually cleaner than usual today he noticed.

Edgar rubbed at his eyes with a yawn. Sam shook his head, "You must've been out completely cold." Edgar, still rubbing at one eye, looked up at Sam. "What time is it?"

"When I left my house it was six o'clock." Sam answered, itching his upper lip. Edgar stood and extended his hands upward, groaning as his muscles stretched and his spine cracked. "Well, Mom put this together for ya." Sam said, getting down to his knees beside the coffee table, opening the bag. Edgar crouched down beside Sam.

Sam took out a can and shoved it into Edgar's hands, and dug back into the bag. Edgar cocked an eyebrow at the can, looking at the label. "There's some soup in here…" Sam took out two more cans and set them on top of the burrito wrapper on the coffee table.

"There's some orange juice in here. That stuff is always good when you're sick." Sam said, setting down an unopened carton of orange juice. "There's some Tylenol." Sam said, rattling a small bottle of pills.

"Tissues." Sam said, setting down a fat box of tissues. "And here's some vapor rub." He pressed a jar into Edgar's hand. Edgar narrowed his eyes at the jar and cocked an eyebrow at Sam, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Sam took the jar back, "Well, there's this globby kind of stuff in here. You take some and smear it all over his bare chest. Then you rub it in. It clears up a snotty nose. Trust me, this stuff works."

Edgar took the jar back, turning it over in his hands. He glanced up at Sam, "Rub this all over Alan's chest…?"

Sam paused, and then shook his head, knowing that Edgar often took things literally. "No. Not all over…just right here." He placed his hand on his own chest right under his collarbone, moving it back and forth.

Edgar nodded in understanding, "How's it work?" Sam shrugged, "I dunno. With vapors I guess. God, have you and Alan never been sick?"

Edgar looked upward a moment, thinking, "Not like this. I remember we had the chicken pox when we were kids." Sam nodded, "Yeah, but that's not sick. Everyone gets the chicken pox when they're kids." Edgar shrugged, "Well, we've had snotty noses before, and sneezing. Just…never like this."

He stood up, and walked quietly to their bedroom. He opened the door slightly to check on Alan. Sam was right behind him. Alan lay still and silent on his side. Breathing ruggedly. Sleeping. Sam frowned, "Wow, he doesn't look so good. Maybe you should take him to a doctor."

Edgar closed the door and looked at Sam as if he were an idiot; his mouth open slightly and his eyes narrowed at him. "How many doctors do you know in Santa Carla, Sammy?" Sam looked to the floor, "Well, none I guess." Edgar nodded, "That's right. Sure there's probably some crawling around somewhere, but it doesn't matter anyways. I don't got the cash to pay for some guy to tell me that my brother's sick when I already know that."

He left the hallway and went back into the living room.

"Well, what about your par…" Sam paused when Edgar turned, having anticipated Sam's words. He was pinching his fingertips together near his lips and inhaling sharply, pretending to take a drag off an imaginary joint. Sam chuckled, "Oh yeah." Edgar rolled his eyes.

"Well, I gotta go. I wanna get home before Michael eats my part of supper." Sam said. Edgar nodded, "Take care of yourself, Sammy." As Sam left the room, Edgar looked down at the jar of vapor rub in his hand. He grimaced and pressed his hand against his stomach when it growled.