"Shit!" Mackland Ames rarely cursed, except for emergencies.

He'd barely gotten confirmation that Dr. Elizabeth McCroy did indeed still work at St. Mary's now as the hospital administrator before he was promptly put on hold.

Mac was impressed; Dr. McCroy had indeed moved up in the world.

So he was still on hold when his son burst into the kitchen, looking slightly wild-eyed.

"Dad, have you gotten hold of Dr. McCroy?" There was a worry that was almost bordering on panic in Caleb's voice.

Mac sighed. "No. All I've found out is that she does still work there… is the hospital administrator now," Mac scowled down at the phone. "Now I'm on hold."

"Well, we'll just have to go down to St. Mary's and find her. We don't have time to wait on the phone."

"What's wrong?"

"It's Deuce. He almost fainted, so I felt his forehead. He felt really hot, so I took his temp. It's up to 104.1, and probably rising as we speak."

Mac immediately hung up the phone. "Fuck." Of course his son was right. By the time he was finally connected to Dr. McCroy, Dean's temperature would probably be high enough to fry an egg on his head.

Not to mention it would probably fry his brains.

Not waiting for an answer, Caleb went back out to the dining room. Mac followed close on his heels.

Opening the door, they nearly collided with Sam, whose young face was tight with worry and fear.

"Sammy," Caleb felt his own fear kick up a notch. "What's wrong?"

As if he already didn't know.

"Dean," Sam replied, fright making his voice thin and broken. "He was going in and out of consciousness. Now I can't wake him up."

All three of them darted out to the living room to see Dean slumped in the chair his head lolling bonelessly to the side.

Mac cursed, and practically sprinted over to Dean's side.

He could now feel the heat radiating from Dean's body. How could he have missed such a high and obvious fever?

Caleb was obviously reading him because he said quietly, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. "Because you were focused on his shoulder, Dad. An obvious injury that needed immediate attention."

Sam was hovering nearby, anxiety written in every part of his body. "So what are we gonna do?" he asked anxiously, his eyes wide and glued to the unconscious form of his beloved older brother.

Mac stuck the thermometer in Dean's mouth again, cringing at the lack of protest. At the utter silence, at the lack of movement.

Dean Matthew Winchester was never still and silent.

He was always moving.

Even in his sleep, he was moving, a light, restless, uneasy sleep.

The sleep of a soldier constantly on guard against creatures that most people didn't even knew existed.

Again, a mere sixty seconds later, the thermometer beeped.

Mac swore again. For someone who didn't do it often, he was doing it quite a lot today.

In the few short minutes since his son had summoned him, Dean's temp had already risen. The numbers on the digital readout were plain and stark.

And frightening.

105.3

Both Sammy and Caleb were looking at Mac, a mixture of fear and pleading on both of their faces.

Mac quickly made a decision. "Sammy, go call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance at this address right away."

Sam needed no prodding. He darted back out to the kitchen.

Caleb smoothed back his best friend's blond absently, wincing at the heat.
He looked at his father. "Should I carry him over to the sofa? Elevate his legs so he doesn't go into shock?"

Mac nodded. "Actually, that's probably a very good idea. Here let me-"

"I've got him," Caleb replied, taking Dean gently in his arms, careful to avoid jarring the injured shoulder. He shuddered at how excruciatingly hot Dean felt in his arms. He also felt fragile, as if he hadn't been eating.

He sat him down on the sofa with the care you would a newborn infant, Mac at the other end, busily propping up his legs.

Caleb began to undid Dean's jeans, as it fell under the area of "restricting clothing' and replaced them with baggy sweatpants.

He stared down at his best and closest friend for a long moment, studying him.

At that moment, Dean looked so physically fragile- his face looked really thin, and his skin was paper-white was stretched tautly over the bones, making him look like a skull. The effect was added by the dark, sunken hollows under his closed lids.

Every second he looked at Deuce…as how incredibly fragile he looked, all he wanted to do was to track down Bela Talbot and rip her throat out with her his bare hands,

Mac looked up at his son, and cocked an eyebrow at his son. Obviously he'd caught Caleb's furious, unguarded thought, but said nothing.

Because truthfully, Dr. Mackland Ames felt the same way,

Sammy came sprinting back inside the living room, looking scared. "They said the ambulance couldn't get here for at least fifteen minutes, but it would probably take longer. Something about a four car pile-up."

Both Mac and Caleb cursed simultaneously.

Sam's worried hazel puppy-dog gaze went from Mac to Caleb to Mac again before finally settling on the limp, pale, unmoving form of his brother.

Caleb had followed Sam's gaze and his eyes, too, were locked on Deuce. And although he usually hated hospitals and everything connected to them, right now he'd give a limb to hear the whine of the approaching siren of that damn ambulance.

But all he could hear was their combined breathing. Deuce's pained, hitching breath, his and Sam's rather frightened quick inhalations and exhalations and his father's attempt at even breathing.


Mac followed their gaze and his face tightened.

There was no way he was just going to sit here and let Dean, this young man he loved like his own son die right before his eyes.

So he made a decision

"Sam, go call back 911 and cancel the ambulance. Tell them that we're bringing him in ourselves-"

The younger Winchester frowned, his brown eyes fearful, face set on extra tense. "But I thought you said it could be dangerous to try and move him without medical supervision?" They had discussed this plan earlier as twelve minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of the ambulance

Mac sighed, and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Yes," he said quietly. "It is. But I'm afraid that if his fever gets any higher, he'll soon start having seizures and it might cause brain damage."

A look of horror crossed Sam's face, and he didn't need any more convincing, as he turned and sprinted for the kitchen phone again.

Mac looked at Caleb. "I'm going to fill a cooler with cool towels and ice packs. You stay here… talk to him… see if you can rouse him to any sort of consciousness."

The doctor turned and quickly disappeared into the kitchen after Sammy.

Leaving Caleb alone with his feverish, unconscious best friend.

"Hey Deuce," Caleb said, kneeling down beside the sofa, and taking Dean's limp, hot hand in his own. "Why in the hell do always insist on scaring the crap outta me like this?"

He waited, wishing Dean would wake up and accuse him of blatantly acting like a woman with speech and the hand-holding.

But Dean didn't stir.

"God, you're such a stubborn S.O.B. Just like your old man."

Still no response. So Caleb switched to pleading.

"Come on Deuce… what kind of Knight am I if I let the future Guardian get his brains get friend because a fever? Cause' a possessed deputy shot you, of all things? On my watch, too Deuce. Johnny would have my ass."

There was a weak cough, a even fainter moan, and Dean moved slightly.

Caleb's heart started beating faster. "Deuce? You with me buddy? It's Damien."

Dean's eyelids flickered for a moment, then to Caleb's delight, they opened.

But the jade-green eyes were glassy from the ever-rising fever.

"Deuce?" Caleb tried anyway.

Dean's eyes seemingly stared right through him and Caleb's knew that with a sinking heart, Deuce might've been awake-but he really wasn't here with him.

"I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother." Dean's voice was filled with anguish.

Caleb frowned. What in the hell memory was Dean re-living?

"That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something."

Caleb gaped in astonishment at Dean's quiet, anguish-filled statement.

Okay, he had to get to the bottom of this. And there was only way to do so…

He clenched Dean's hand tighter, and after taking a deep breath, plunged into his best friend's mind, straining against the images of water. Something which was apparently a Guardian thing, as it was all he ever got when he tried to read Jim.

But apparently the stress of the injury combined with the blood loss and fever, allowed him access to Dean's memories.

He was in.


They were all standing in the middle of Bobby's salvage yard. Dean, Bobby, and Caleb.

Although Caleb was nothing but a silent, invisible observer.

Bobby was gripping Dean's shoulders and was shaking him fiercely.

"You stupid ass! What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO!" Bobby was looking angrier than Caleb had ever seen him and he was startled. Bobby rarely got angry, and especially not with Dean, who was Bobby's favorite.

"You made a deal… for Sam didn't you," Bobby's voice was changing… thickening with tears. "How long they give ya-"

Dean looked away, apparently unable to meet Bobby's face. "Bobby-"

"HOW LONG!"

Dean looked back at him steadily, green eyes cool. "One year."

Caleb stumbled backwards, feeling icy-cold terror grab hold of him and not let go.

"Damn it Dean." Bobby growled, but there was pain on his grizzled face.

"Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch. Which is why I'm gonna kill him myself. I mean, I got nothin' to lose now." Dean spoke coolly.

"I could THROTTLE you!" Bobby snapped, grabbing hold of Dean by the shoulders as if to make good on his threat.

"And send me downstairs ahead of schedule?" Dean asked

Bobby released Dean, rather reluctantly it seemed. "What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad. You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit."

"That's my point," Dean spoke softly. "Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something."

Echoing the disbelief Caleb felt, Bobby seized Dean again. "What? And it didn't before! Have you got that low of an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head!"

Fighting unshed tears. Dean said in a choked voice. "I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother."

Bobby looked at him, and Caleb saw that the older hunter appeared to have tears glimmering in his brown eyes. "How's your brother gonna feel when he knows you're going to hell? How'd you feel when you knew your dad went for you?"


With a wrench that was almost painful, Caleb pulled himself out of Dean's mind.

He stared down at Dean, whose eyes had closed again, sick with breathless horror.

Deuce had sold his soul. He was going to hell.

Sam chose this moment to come running back in, obviously eager to be with his brother. "Okay, the ambulance has been-" he abruptly broke off, seeing the distraught expression on Caleb's face.

And he promptly panicked. "What's wrong? Has he gotten worse?"

Caleb closed his eyes for a moment, then overwhelming sadness washed over him, nearly unmanning him.

Finally, he opened them and looked at Sam, feeling near tears. "I know a-about the deal."

All of the blood drained from Sam's face in a rush and he whispered "How did you-"

"Know? Took a little trip into Deuce's head. Seems the fever wears down the Guardian thing," Caleb swallowed; and his voice dropped to a sad whisper. Why didn't you-"

"Tell you," Sam's own voice filled with quiet sorrow. "After I found out… after the whole deal with the Devil's Gate and Dean killing the Yellow-Eyed demon… he made me promise not to tell you."

Caleb didn't even need to ask why Dean had made the promise of Sam.

It was pure Deuce… Selfless. It was because he wanted to spare Caleb any unnecessary pain.

"But I also promised," Sam went on with determination. "That I would save him."

Caleb gave a small smile, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "No. We'll save him together, Runt."

It was then that Mac choose to enter, bearing the cooler filled the icy towels.

"You two are going to save whom? Dean will be fine boys, I swear."

Reading the melancholy look on both boys' faces, Mac asked slowly. "This is about something else, isn't it."

"Yeah. But let's get Deuce to the hospital first, okay?"

Mac nodded slowly. "All right. But we will discuss this later."

"Yeah," Caleb said grimly. "We will."