A/N: What's up! Wow! Thanks so much for following, reviewing and favoriting! And for simply, reading. It means so much!
Warning: You might be wondering if this will transform into a deathfic...as of now, it could go either way. I still have plans for a few more chapters before anything happens. Who knows...I might be persuaded one way or another... ;) So, if the possibility of it turning into a deathfic bothers you, I apologize. :(
FYI: I guess this takes place after the Croatoan episode, but not after season 5, if that helps. :)
Please review for my muse(I get extra points for rhyming, right?)!
They thought it was a routine hunt. Well, not exactly routine, but something they could certainly handle. They had gotten wind of some murders seemingly without a motive in the suburb of Pataskala, Ohio. Dean and Sam had thought that the casualties were due to a few demonic possessions, maybe a shapeshifter. And if they did need a little help, Jo and Ellen were working a case just a few hours away.
Sam and Dean didn't think anything could go wrong-at least nothing they couldn't handle. But they didn't expect these murders to be committed by rabid humans; they didn't expect to be dealing with an outbreak of Croatoan.
That was years ago. And the illness had vanished as fast as it had appeared. They had expected they wouldn't be dealing with it any longer.
But when they had followed a suspected demon to a warehouse, they weren't expecting an ambush from a handful of infected humans.
A woman launched down from the rafters, tackling Sam into the dusty floor. He gasped in surprise when his chin hit the concrete, crunching his teeth together. That's when he started hearing the gunfire and the ferocious shrieking.
Sam blinked quickly, immediately focusing, and struggled to twist out from under the woman's weight. White, hot pain blazed through his shoulder when the woman on top of him screeched in protest, fingers ripping into his flesh.
Sam grunted and jerked to the side, finally pushing her off. Before the woman could even get to her feet, he put a bullet in her chest.
"Damn it!"
Sam flinched against the obvious fear and irritation in his brother's voice and whipped around to see Dean cornered to a wall, fiddling with the barrel of his gun. Because Sam and Dean did not expect to use bullets, but to simply trap and exorcise a few demons, maybe stab them with Ruby's knife if they were out of options. And if the murderer was a shapeshifter, then they only needed a couple of silver bullets. They had left their usual Taurus and Colt behind in the Impala. And Dean was clearly out of his silver bullets.
"Dean!" Sam cried, panic seizing his heart, and he sprinted towards his powerless brother.
The infected beings drew closer to his older brother, and Dean finally dropped his gun, and lashed out, punching an old man squarely in the jaw before kicking at a teenager. As Sam ran towards them, he questioned whether or he should start taking fire, but the demonic humans were so close to his brother, and if Sam missed, if...
His stomach twisted when they finally pinned Dean to the wall, and the old man was pulling out a knife and-
"No!" Sam yelled, and he knew he didn't have any other options. He lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, shooting the old man in the back of the head, sending him to the ground. But another just took his place, and then some of the infected were running towards Sam with hunger in their eyes, and when Sam finally cleared the path to his big brother, it was too late.
Sam saw the blood on Dean's arm, and the remaining, infected humans were pulling away.
God. No.
Sam killed the rest with trembling fingers, his mind numb, before moving towards his seemingly paralyzed brother. With a disgusted glance and a kick from his foot, Sam pushed away the corpse lying between him and his brother.
"Dean..." Sam whispered, watching his brother nervously, fighting the urge to run and scream and kill the bastard that ever released the virus into this town.
Dean blinked at him, frowning slightly as he stepped away from the wall, glancing down at his bloodied arm.
Sam felt the bile crawling up his throat when he saw his brother tense, and met his gaze, eyes dazed, "Sammy, they..."
"I know," Sam nodded, feeling the prickle of tears. He knew what happened when a person was infected. Hell, they had just shot what happened when a person was infected. And Dean knew it too.
"Shit, Sam..." his brother shook his head, incredulously, continuing to look at his arm.
"Hey. We're going to figure this out. I'll call Bobby. There's gotta be something, Dean," Sam reassured, hating the way his voice cracked with reluctant doubt.
"I..." Dean exhaled raggedly, stepping over a body and closer to Sam. "I don't think so, Sam..."
"You don't know that, Dean," Sam persisted, fighting the desire to just pull his brother into a tight embrace. He hated how his tough, strong brother was shaking with numb confusion and disbelief. He hated how the raw emotion of fear was so evident in Dean's face. He hated that Dean felt so vulnerable.
"You're..." Dean looked up at him, after glancing at the gun in Sam's hand, "You have to kill me, Sam."
Sam shook his head, chest straining. He regretted the way his breath caught in his throat, "No. I'm not. I'm not leaving you, Dean. We're going to fix this. I promise."
I promise, Sam thought earnestly to himself.
Dean looked doubtful, but eventually nodded tersely, returning his gaze to his arm.
"Come on. Let's get out of here," Sam said, nudging Dean gently.
They carefully stepped around the bodies of once humans, avoiding the pooling blood. Silence rang in the warehouse. Silence rang in the Impala. Silence rang in realtor agency. After situating Dean in the supply closet, the first thing Sam did was call Bobby.
Because Sam wasn't leaving Dean.
Sam sighed, closing his eyes. This was so hard, staying strong. How Dean managed doing it for him, all these years, Sam would never know. He forced himself to open his eyes, and pulled down the box of snacks which stocked the vending machines, from the top shelf. Sam winced from the pressure on his injured shoulder before rummaging through the box, pulling out couple of granola bars and a bag of chips.
He walked back to Dean who was sitting with his eyes closed, hands twisting into the fabric of his jacket.
"Hey," Sam said, hiding the frown that was willing to appear.
Dean opened his eyes, and Sam lifted up the granola bars, "Food. You want one?"
Dean scoffed incredulously, "Do I look like a hippy?"
Sam rolled his eyes before tossing his brother the bag of chips, "One day, the cholesterol is going to catch up to you," Sam chided teasingly before sitting down and ripped open the wrapper of one of the granola bars.
"Yeah, and one day, maybe I'll care," Dean replied gruffly, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth.
Sam shook his head, smiling, and bit down into the crunchy oats of his own snack.
"I don't suppose you found any beer," Dean said jokingly, but Sam knew he was being completely serious. Sam could use a few beers himself.
"Found a couple of canned root beers," Sam mentioned, feigning naivety.
"Well that's just...awesome," Dean responded sarcastically, repositioning his back against the shelf. "I feel like I'm stuck in a freaking preschool."
"Preschool?" Sam lifted his eyebrows amusedly, "What kind of preschool are you talking about?"
"John Winchester's," Dean smiled proudly, crumpling the plastic wrapper into a misshapen ball. "Nothing beats playtime like ganking a bunch of monsters."
"Uh-huh..." Sam sounded. Sometimes, Sam wished he had grown up normally, but in the end, Sam had to agree with his big brother.
Sam felt his heart warm when his brother cocked his head at him, eyes bright with that giddiness Sam wouldn't admit he loved, "You're just jealous Dad taught me-"
Sam's phone buzzed, and he couldn't help but grimace when he saw the vitality disappear from Dean's face. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, pressing it against his ear.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam sighed, eyeing Dean carefully. He wanted to have this conversation in privacy, but knew what Dean needed most now was honesty and knowing his brother was with him.
"How's he holdin' up?" Bobby's voice came through gravely.
"He's...dealing," Sam said, glancing down to his lap. "How's things on your end?"
"Well," Bobby began, "I'm still lookin', and to be frank, I'm not sure I didn't send Jo and Ellen on a wild goose chase, Sam."
Sam bit his lip, stopping himself from cursing. Yeah, although Sam was reluctant in retreating into the aisles of shelves, he couldn't have this conversation in front of Dean. Sam slid the phone to his chest and looked at his brother, "I'm going to go get something else to eat. Do you want anything?"
Dean blinked at him, smart enough to know what Sam was doing but too tired to protest. Sam frowned apologetically before rising to his feet and walked down one of the aisles. When he was sure Dean wouldn't be able to hear, he stopped and returned the phone to his ear.
"Sam? You still there, boy?"
"Yeah," Sam muttered, clenching his jaw. "I just had to get..."
"Sam," Bobby interrupted, "You can't be hiding this from him. He deserves better."
A wave of shame washed over Sam, but he couldn't focus on that right now, "Damn it, Bobby!" he whispered harshly, "I can't. Not when he already thinks it's hopeless. I can't keep pretending that everything's fine-I can't. But-"
"It sure as hell ain't fine, but it's not fair to either of you to keep playing doll-house. Dean's sick, sick real bad. And it's time to face the facts."
Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose, "I can't talk about this now. Do we have any other leads besides what Ellen and Jo are looking into?"
"Sam."
Sam ignored him, "Any leads?"
Bobby sighed, "Stubborn idjit," before continuing, "It's hard to go about. As far as I know, it first popped up with you two in River Grove. Naturally speaking, ya can't "cure" a virus. Either your body overcomes it, like with a cold, or you die."
"And supernaturally speaking?" Sam prompted, beginning to pace the few feet between shelves.
"Well, that's just it. I don't know. There's only a few supernatural illnesses us hunters have come across. But I'm guessin' a virus is as same as any in those terms."
"But maybe Croatoan isn't actually a virus," Sam suggested, chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously. "We just assumed it couldn't be cured, but...but maybe it can."
"I'm not gonna stop looking, Sam. I love that boy as much as anyone," Bobby explained, but Sam couldn't help but disagree. Bobby couldn't possible love Dean more than Sam did, "But what are you going to do when he starts trying to kill you?"
"I'm not leaving him, Bobby," Sam retorted adamantly, before quietly adding, "I'll figure something out."
Bobby sighed tiredly, "Alright. I'll call you back if I or the girls find anything. You take care of your brother."
"I will," Sam replied, blinking.
"I know you will. I'm not sure you'll remember yourself though."
Sam bit back saying he was fine, and instead responded, "Thanks, Bobby." Before ending the call and sliding his phone back into his pocket.
Sam rubbed a hand down his face, and stumbled back to the snack box, and absently pulled out something and returned to his brother, forcing a smile.
"Indecisive much?" Dean asked with bitter innocence.
"What?" Sam asked dazedly, easing his way back to the floor.
"Dude," Dean pressed, nudging him, "You took like ten minutes picking out whatever..." he saw what Sam was holding and incredulously asked, "Is that a Twinkie?"
Sam blinked, looking down at what he held, and his fingers pressed tenderly into the spongey cake, "Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged.
"Sam, you hate those."
"No, I don't."
"You call them lard cakes."
"So?"
"Dad used to force you to eat them as punishment for being a bitch."
"Dean," Sam complained, exasperated.
"Why did you get a Twinkie?" Dean persisted with a crooked smile.
"I wasn't looking," Sam replied honestly, hoping that would be the end of it.
"Ohhh."
Sam groaned when he saw Dean's expression. He knew why Sam had so abruptly left, and it wasn't because of a snack. But Dean was playing oblivious to his advantage.
"You weren't looking?" Dean lifted an eyebrow, "But Sam, you were picking out a snack for ten minutes. Of course you were looking."
"Dean."
"No, you picked the Twinkie because you wanted it. Go on and eat that thing."
Sam made a face, "Dean, please."
Dean stared at him patiently, waiting.
Sam sighed, "You're a jerk." He pulled open the plastic wrapper and gripped the cake uneasily. Sam glanced pleadingly at his brother, but Dean simply smiled.
Reluctantly, Sam pushed the Twinkie into his mouth and started chewing, wincing as he did.
"Yeah, you suck that creamy filling, Sammy," Dean chuckled.
"Screw you, Dean," Sam muttered, gagging against the greasy cake.
"You know, Sam, one day, the cholesterol will catch up to you."
"Real freaking mature," Sam growled, throwing the rest of the Twinkie across the room, but his growing smile finally broke free.
He just hoped it could last.
To be continued!
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