Title: Stone Cold Crazy
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A witch, a Basilisk and the Winchesters walk into an abandoned amusement park…it's either a bad joke or a recipe for disaster. Post 3x10 "DaLDoM" hurt/limp/awesome!Sam/Dean with a side of awesome!Bobby
Author's note: Hello my name is Kaz and I have a problem. I can't stop tormenting Sam Winchester. It has been…zero days since my last fix. :P
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D – Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
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"At least there aren't any shapeshifters this time." Sam smirked, happy to have irritated him after Dean's teasing inside." He tripped and stumbled, catching hold of the hood of the truck. "Damn." He looked down to see what he'd tripped on.
"What?" Dean turned around, heard a hiss and saw the blink of red eyes from beneath the body of the truck. "Sam!" He grabbed his brother's arm as Sam gasped and yanked him behind him to land on the ground in a heap. Dean took out his gun and took aim but the dark head he had seen had vanished. He got down on one knee and bent cautiously to look beneath it. Seeing nothing, he rose and circled the truck. On the other side was a sewer grate lying askew from where it belonged. "Son of a bitch!"
"Dean."
Dean spun, hearing something in Sam's voice that made his blood go cold. "Sammy?" He went and knelt beside him as Sam pushed himself up and fell back with a gasp.
"Right leg…above the knee." Sam panted, trying to control the pain that suddenly burned in his leg. "Don't…don't touch…anything. Venom."
CHAPTER 3
Dean moved so the streetlamp gave him light to see by, and he sucked in a breath. There was a tear in the denim above Sam's knee, and he could see blood and some other viscous, green substance glistening. "Shit. Ok. Gotta get you up."
Sam nodded and raised an arm. He let Dean pull him up and leaned heavily on him, limping as quickly as he could toward the motel. He knew it was only a block away now, but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "Don't think it's a bite,"
"You'll be fine," Dean assured him, as much for his own sake as Sam's, and hitched his brother higher on his shoulder. "Why'd it jump us here? Damn thing hasn't left the amusement park before. Why now?"
"Maybe…maybe someone's controlling it and whoever brought it here pegged us for Hunters." Sam's voice caught a bit as he fought the moan that tried to inch its way out of him. The pain above his knee was an indescribable burning sensation.
"Or the damn thing could smell us," Dean growled. "Knows we're coming to gank it."
Sam sucked in a breath and closed his eyes against the searing pain. "This is what happened to her…to Lenore," He whispered. "That look on her face, Dean…"
"Don't think about it," Dean told him firmly. "That's not gonna happen to you." He believed that. He had to, because what was the point in selling his soul if Sam died anyway? He tightened his grip around Sam's waist, feeling the tremors that were beginning to course through his brother's body. Lenore's face had been eloquent; the petrification process was agony. "Take it easy. Almost there."
"I'm ok," Sam's voice was low, ragged, along with his breathing.
Dean carried him to the door, fumbling the key in the lock and opening it. "Ok. Here we go. Almost." He pulled Sam around to the far bed and eased him down to the sit on the side, then knelt in front of him. "Alright, lemme have a look."
Sam kept himself upright by sheer force of will while Dean took a knife to the leg of his jeans and cut them open above his knee. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away from the agony. Seeing the wound above his knee didn't help. "Crap." The skin was red with more than blood, swelling slightly, and he could see sickly grey lines flaring out from the edges of the small gash in the skin. Really, as far as wounds went, it was minor, a deep scratch, but the venom…
Dean bit his tongue, fighting back his own fear, and cut the leg off Sam's jeans, being careful to not touch the drops of venom he could see clinging to the fabric. He made a slit down to the cuff and pulled it out from under his leg. then tossed it in the trash can. "I'll burn it later so no one accidentally touches it. We need to clean this." He slid an arm under Sam's shoulders and levered him back up and toward the bathroom. "Just breathe, Sam." Outwardly, he kept his cool. Inwardly, he was screaming with panic. "Ok, sit." He lowered Sam to the toilet, considered for a moment, and then maneuvered his leg up and over the edge of the tub.
"Need to c-call Bobby," Sam managed between clenched teeth.
"Going to, but I wanna clean this out first." Dean bent and turned on the taps in the tub. He looked up as Sam's leg gave a violent twitch, and the look on his brother's face was nothing short of outright fear. "Sammy?"
Sam couldn't explain it. The feeling that struck him as water began to fall into the tub and wash over his toes…it was terror; abject terror. He wanted to run. His grip on the towel bar above him was so tight the metal screeched. "Dean. The water."
"What about it? Dude, what's going on?" Dean rose and pried Sam's white- knuckled grip from the bar. "You gotta talk to me."
Sam swallowed hard and shook his head. "J-just clean it. Fast." He closed his eyes and grabbed hold of the towel bar again to brace himself against the fear he didn't understand.
Dean frowned. "Just take a minute." He shook his head and reached to the sink, taking one of the little cups and unwrapping it. He used it to pour water over Sam's leg, watching the dots of venom still on his skin wash away with the bloody water. Sam's whole body was trembling and broken out in a sweat. A look at his face told Dean Sam was biting his lip with his eyes clamped shut to let him finish. Dean didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He cleaned the wound as quickly as he could, trying to ignore Sam's pained gasps whenever the water touched him. When he was sure he had it all, he turned off the taps and Sam heaved a great breath and collapsed over into the wall.
"Thanks," Sam whispered.
Dean pulled the towel down and quickly dried his leg. "Back to bed." He pulled Sam back up and moved out and back to the bed, doing his best not to look at the vivid red drops of blood on the bright blue tile of the bathroom floor.
"Sorry." Sam opened his eyes as he sat. "I dunno what…something about the w-water."
"Alright, I'm callin' Bobby." Dean took out his phone and dialed while he dug the medical kit from his bag and set it on the bed beside Sam. "Bobby. We need that antidote now."
"Well, if you got a victim bit, I can whip it up and have it there in maybe seven or eight hours, but…"
"Bobby, it's Sam." Dean cut across him and heard the sharp intake of breath before the silence. "It's not a bite; more like it cut him, but he's poisoned."
"Six hours. I can be there in six," Bobby said finally. "How close is the wound to his heart?"
"It's his leg, above the knee." Dean bent and helped Sam put his leg up on the bed. "Lay back already. That good or bad?"
"Good," Bobby said firmly. "Farther away the wound is from the heart, the longer you have. Probably got a good twelve hours before he's in real danger. Keep him still. Keep him calm."
"Bobby…"
"I know calm ain't gonna be easy, son, but you have to." Bobby said quickly. He was already up and rifling through the cabinets in his kitchen after the ingredients he'd need. "I need to start this now."
"Wait. Why would Sam suddenly be afraid of running water?" Dean asked as he sat beside Sam's leg and looked at his pale face. "He pretty much freaked out when I tried to wash the wound out."
"Oh, balls! Hydrophobia." Bobby groaned. "That cut must be a glancin' blow from a fang. Uh, basilisk bites cause extreme hydrophobia in victims. Probably helps keep 'em from takin' the antidote if it's available."
"How you figure that?" Dean scowled as Sam twitched and hissed out a breath. "Easy, buddy," He murmured soothingly, reaching up and gently brushing a strand of dark hair out of Sam's face.
"Because the antidote has to be poured in water and the victim immersed." Bobby sighed and leaned on the counter for a sec. "This ain't gonna be pretty for any of us, and Sam won't be able to help himself. Now, just…you keep him alive til I get there, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir. What about a tourniquet? Could tie it off above the wound." Dean met the stab of fear in Sam's eyes; a tourniquet could irreparably damage his leg if left too long.
"Wouldn't stop it," Bobby said firmly. "The venom's supernatural in nature. I'll be there in six hours, Dean. I promise."
"Thanks, Bobby." Dean flipped the phone closed and tossed it on the other bed, taking a deep breath.
"What'd Bobby say?" Sam asked quietly.
"He'll be here in about six hours with the antidote." Dean smiled and patted his good knee. "You're gonna be fine."
"Don't f-feel fine." Sam opened his eyes again and looked down as Dean bent over his thigh and the wound.
Dean had to work hard to keep the fear from his face and his voice. The poison was slowly progressing. He could see where the disturbing grey lines had already spread at least half an inch further from the wound. As he watched, they grew longer and Sam jerked, choking on a sob of pain.
"Shit!" Dean took his shoulder and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. "Breathe, Sammy. Easy."
"Hurts…hurts when it s-spreads," Sam felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye and couldn't find the energy to be embarrassed about it.
"I know, buddy. I know." Dean held on to Sam while he rode out the agony and suffered with him. When it was done, Sam slid back against the headboard, gasping for air. "Bobby said we gotta keep you calm and still until he gets here."
Sam snorted a weak laugh. "Might be a problem."
"Yeah, I know." Dean smiled in spite of the situation. "If I thought you'd stay on your ass, I'd go up to that damn park, find this bastard, and gank it tonight."
Sam's eyes shot open and he grabbed hold of Dean. "No! You can't go without me. I need to be there. Promise me!"
"Whoa, Sam! What the hell?" Dean pulled his brother's hand free of his arm and scowled. "Look, pretty sure you're out of this. Bobby can come finish it with me."
"No. Dean, please!" Sam could feel his last chance slipping away from him. If he wasn't there, they wouldn't know to take its eye, and he wouldn't be able to perform the ritual. "I'm going with you. I'll be f-fine once I get the antidote."
"Sam, this is not up for discussion. You're sidelined," Dean said firmly but Sam didn't give in.
"No." Sam pushed at Dean until he moved and swung his leg to the floor. "I can do this. I have to."
"No, you don't. Sam, sit the hell down." Dean took his shoulder to keep him on the bed even as Sam pushed at him. "Sam!" He won the tug of war and pushed his little brother back against the headboard so he was sitting. "You wanna tell me what the hell this is? Why are you so hot to be there when we kill this thing? It's gonna burn no matter what."
Sam sucked in a few breaths, trying to find calm. He looked up at Dean's face and knew he'd blown it. There was no way he was getting away with not explaining now. He knew that obstinate look. "Dean…" Sam sighed and looked down at his leg. "I…I need a piece of the basilisk."
"Ok, you wanna elaborate? Like I'm stupid." Dean glared, knowing already he wasn't going to like what he heard.
"I found a spell. It's old." Sam kept his eyes down, unwilling to risk seeing Dean's face yet. "There's a lot of strange ingredients, but the most important…is the eye of a basilisk."
"Spell…for what?" Dean asked softly.
"To bind a person's soul to their body…forever. It could save you." Sam finally looked up at him with that small ray of hope he'd been living off of glinting in his eyes. "Dean, they can't take you if they can't get your soul. I can stop it. We can save you."
Dean stared at him as the anger built. He had to let go of Sam's shoulder before he hurt him. "Do you get that if we violate my deal, you're dead? They'll kill you, Sam, on the spot. No questions, no discussion. You. Just. Die. Do you get that?" Dean's voice rose with each word as he bit them off. "They can still kill me, Sam! I'll be just as dead, but, what…stuck here forever? Trapped with my body forever? No hell and no heaven, no nothing! What the hell are you thinking?" He rose and paced across the room, needing the distance.
"This will work," Sam wasn't willing to give up.
"No, it won't! Dammit, Sam!" Dean turned to glare at him. "You're not doing this. We're killing that thing and it's going to burn…all of it. Period. I am NOT risking you. That's my decision, Sam. Mine."
"Dean, look…" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.
"No, Sam. We're not talking about this," Dean growled at him.
"Dean…"
"Shut up, Sam."
"Dean, please…"
"What part of shut the hell up ain't getting through to you?" Dean shouted and glared his brother into silence. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to ignore the sheen of moisture that sprang up in Sam's eyes as he turned away. Dean breathed heavily through his nostrils for a moment then turned and planted his fist into the wall with a satisfying crunch as the plaster crumpled.
Silence reigned in the motel room for several minutes before Sam finally braved it. "Feel better?"
"Fuck," Dean muttered and cradled his hand as he closed his eyes.
"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said softly. In his fervor to find a way to save his brother, he'd never really considered the fact that his plan would likely result in his own death. The demon had promised Dean that if he tried to wiggle out of it, she would kill Sam. The idea of dying himself didn't really bother him; not if Dean got to live but…he took a slow breath. Dean was right; once the demon realized she couldn't get his soul, she'd probably just kill Dean too. The hopelessness flowed back into him, sucking away his energy. Sam gasped as the wound sent a new wave of agony coursing through him.
"Sammy?" Dean watched him gasp and start to curl over. He ran to the bed and caught him before he could roll off the bed. "Hey, hey. Come on." Sam had his hand low on his stomach. "Sam?" Dean pushed his hand away and pulled up the hem of his shirt. "Shit!" The grey lines of the poison were progressing and appearing over the waist of his jeans.
"Dean," Sam moaned in a gut desire for comfort.
"I've gotcha." Dean eased him back so he was sitting. He put his hand down on Sam's knee and startled badly. "What the hell?" He shifted so he could see his brother's leg and his eyes widened in horror. The skin in an area of about three inches around had turned to solid grey. It was stone. Dean could see every line of muscle, vein and hair as though they were chiseled into marble. He was petrifying before Dean's eyes. "Oh, God, Sammy," The words were no more than a whisper and he caught Sam against him as he passed out from the pain.
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Bobby drove like a man possessed. He was breaking every speed limit and hoped his luck would hold all the way to Wichita. He was wearing his suit and had an FBI badge ready to go in case it didn't and some zealous cop decided to pull him over. He'd told Dean six hours. Given the way he'd ignored the speed limits he was looking at getting there in five if he didn't get stopped. He was so close now. Every hour's passing made him twitch with fear for Sam. He'd read the lore; he had a decent idea how bad it was going to be for the kid while they waited for him and the antidote.
On the floor of the seat beside him, he had the antidote carefully packed in a bucket. He wasn't looking forward to using it. Everything he'd read said the venom imposed hydrophobia would make victims go wild and sometimes violent in their efforts to avoid water. Sam was going to fight them whether he wanted to or not. The more terrifying aspect of the whole thing was that agitation and movement hastened the venom's spread. They could conceivably kill him trying to cure him.
"Not gonna happen," Bobby growled softly as he drove and pressed the gas down, speeding up a little more. The lights of Wichita showed as he turned a bend and he breathed a sigh. He slowed marginally as he crossed into the city limits, but only slightly. It was almost four in the morning; there wasn't any traffic to speak of. The sound of Dean's voice and its forced calm with Sam's muffled sounds of pain in the background had been his constant companions on the drive. He scrubbed a hand over his face as his vision blurred for a second.
"Suck it up, Singer," Bobby ordered himself angrily. Dean had called him a few hours back to tell him about Sam's plan, and Bobby couldn't fault the kid. Hell, if he'd found the spell, he'd have been tempted too, but he agreed with Dean; trading Sam's life for his brother's wasn't a plan. He spotted the sign for their motel and squealed into the parking lot, parking beside the distinctive muscle car. He was out in a flash and the door opened before he reached it.
"Bobby. Am I glad to see you." Dean smiled thinly at their adoptive father.
"How's he doin'?" Bobby watched Dean scrub his hands through hair already spiky from the same thing too many times.
"Better if you just have a look," Dean's voice was tired, and he waved him into the room before going back to his brother.
Bobby stared as he neared the far bed, and all the saliva dried in his mouth. "Balls," He breathed. Sam lay on the bed shaking and twitching with pain. His right leg was unmistakably turned to stone halfway down his calf and up under what was left of the leg of his jeans. The lines of venom had appeared above the waist of his jeans and Bobby almost wished Dean had left his shirt on so he couldn't see the progression of angry lines inching up Sam's stomach toward his chest.
"Hey…Bobby." Sam's voice was weak and ragged as he cracked his eyes and saw the older hunter standing over him.
"Hey, yourself, Sam." Bobby reached down and clasped a hand around Sam's sweat covered neck. "Gonna get you fixed up in no time. You just hang in a little longer." He got a weary nod in response and smiled. "That's my boy. Dean." Bobby turned and gave himself a shake. "Fill the tub. I'll get the antidote."
"Already did that an hour ago," Dean informed him and shrugged. "Figured I'd save us a step."
"Good thinkin'." Bobby clapped a hand to his shoulder and headed back out to his truck.
Dean went and sat down next to his brother. The last five hours had been tortuous for them both; Sam as the spurts of agony made him scream senseless, and Dean as he held him through the episodes, forced to watch the venom's progression in his brother's skin and to listen to the agony his brother was going through, completely helpless to do anything to ease his suffering. He was grateful there were no other guests near them or Sam's screams would surely have brought the police by now. He took Sam's arms and pulled him up so he was resting against his chest with his head on his shoulder. "You ready, kiddo?"
Sam nodded weakly into his brother's neck. "Yeah." He could feel the basilisk's venom burning through him like molten metal. It was getting ready to spread again; the sensation before the stone grew was becoming recognizable. "S'coming again."
"Ok. I gotcha." Dean wrapped his arms around him at Sam's whisper. "Bobby?" He called. "Get in here quick and shut the door!"
Bobby came in carrying the bucket and kicked the door shut behind him. "What's goin' on?"
"It's about to spread again." Dean looked up at him and tightened his grip. "It's bad." He felt the tremors running through his brother pick up strength and grimaced. "Here it comes."
Bobby set the bucket down and went to the bed. He took careful hold of Sam's left leg as it started to kick. "Easy, son. You're gonna be ok." He flinched as the first scream tore itself from Sam's throat. It was raw and half choked, muffled only by Dean's shoulder.
Sam couldn't have spoken if he wanted to. The agony ripped through him and stole his breath, yet somehow he managed to scream. He'd fought it in the beginning and bitten his own lip bloody in the process. There were no words to describe the knowledge that things inside of you were turning to stone. He could actually feel them becoming solid and heavy. He'd lost the ability to move his right leg hours ago; and as the venom reached the base of his spine, he could no longer walk. He screamed again into his brother's shoulder, and only the feeling of Dean's hand clamped to the back of his head gave him any comfort.
Bobby gasped as he watched the stone creep further down Sam's calf and then stop. "God."
Dean just nodded, robbed of speech as he held his brother and felt Sam's hands gripped in the back of his shirt like vices. "Take it easy, Sammy," Dean said hoarsely into his ear. He could feel it easing as Sam went heavy against him sobbing air in and out.
Bobby leaned back and wiped at the few tears that had escaped his control. "I'll get it ready." He said gruffly and quickly picked up the bucket and went into the bathroom. He needed a minute to collect himself. He took out one of the bottles and uncorked it, pouring it into the tub full of water. It hissed softly, the green mixture moved through the water as if alive until it was all green and glowing slightly. He took a deep breath, settling his nerves and went back out. They were where he'd left them. Dean still held Sam against him and the sight of Sam's hands holding bunches of his big brother's shirt was enough to choke him up.
Bobby cleared his throat and went to them. "Tub's ready. Let's get him in." He glanced at Dean seriously. "We might want to restrain him before we try this. He's gonna fight hard."
Dean's flinty gaze met his with a solid shake of his head. "No. We're not doing that to him. We can handle it."
Bobby nodded. "Had to suggest it. Sorry, son." He leaned down so he could see Sam's face as it turned up slightly. "Sam? Look, none of what happens next is your fault, son. It's the poison workin' in ya."
Sam nodded, too weary for words. Dean had explained it to him, and he knew the hydrophobia was going to make him fight being cured. He tried to tell himself he could fight it, that he wouldn't go crazy trying to get away, but the look of sorrow on Bobby's face told him otherwise.
"Just…get it over with," Sam said after a moment and closed his eyes.
"Ok, buddy. Here we go." Dean stood and Sam's arms around him brought his brother with him. Bobby slipped in behind Sam to help steady him. He eased Sam's legs off the bed, grimacing as his right thumped to the floor with a sound far louder than it should have been. "Sorry."
"We gotta hurry, Dean." Bobby pulled one of Sam's hands from his brother's back and pulled the arm over his own shoulder. The lines of poison spreading up his bare back were frightening and getting far too near his heart for the older man's peace of mind. They made it as far as the bathroom door before it started.
Sam looked up, seeing the bathtub filled with greenly glowing liquid, and the terror rushed through him like wildfire. "N…no. No!" He couldn't stop himself. He tried to throw himself free of Dean and Bobby, but their grip was firm as they dragged him, begging, into the room.
"Sam, it's ok. Just…ow." Dean grunted as his brother's thrashing knocked him into the wall. "Probably should have gotten the rest of his jeans off first, huh?"
Bobby snorted, appreciating the attempt at levity. "Won't matter." He strained to hold Sam. The kid was more muscle than anything, all 6-foot-4 of him. Bobby fondly remembered the days when Sam had been a short, gangly teenager; all the times his big brother had come through the front door with Sam tossed over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Now, even with the venom working through him, he was a bundle of contained strength.
"Stop, stop!" Sam wanted to kick, to run, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He shoved and pulled, trying to free his arms, but their grip on him was steely. He knew it was irrational. Sam wanted to stop fighting, but he couldn't stop the fear that drove him to get away from the water. His heart was pounding so loud it was deafening, and he felt the venom begin to move faster. "No! Dean!"
"It's alright, Sam. Gonna be alright." Dean gritted his teeth and took all of Sam's thrashing weight so Bobby could bend and get his legs in the tub one at a time. The touch of the treated water seemed to wash away whatever control Sam still had. He went wild, throwing his arms and screaming. Dean took an elbow to the jaw and ducked his head behind his brother, clamping his arms around his chest to hold him, his well-honed hunting skills serving him well, even as he hated having to use them on his brother.
"Lower him down!" Bobby yelled over Sam's shouts and pleas. "Get him in the damn water fast!" The venom was spreading again; the stone was now inching above the waist of Sam's jeans and the boy screamed, throwing his head back. "It's gonna kill him!"
"No…it's not!" Dean muscled his little brother down into the water. The smell was anything but pleasant and made his nose burn. "What's in this crap?"
"Mandrake root among other things. All of him, get him down." Bobby put his hands to Sam's legs to keep him still and tried not to think too hard about the fact his right hand felt like it was holding the leg of a damn statue instead of a person. The stone clunked in the tub, knocking against the porcelain. Sam's back arched as the water climbed up his torso. "Damn."
"How long is this…gonna take?" Dean grunted with the effort of keeping Sam down. He had both of his brother's wrists in his hands and pressed to Sam's chest to hold him as another ragged scream filled the room. He could only watch as the venom crawled up his chest, inch by inch, getting closer to his heart.
"I don't know," Bobby admitted sadly. He gasped in surprise. "Wait. Something's happening." The stone beneath his hand was changing. He could feel the hard texture softening. Sam's entire body jerked hard with a guttural scream, and suddenly Bobby was holding two, flesh-and-blood legs beneath the green water. "It's working."
"Sam?" Dean released his brother's hands as his head fell back and he went limp. "Sammy? Talk to me, man." He picked up his brother's head and dropped his own as he heard the exhausted, even breaths coming from him. "Can we get him out?"
Bobby shook his head. "Safer to wait." The lines of venom and stone on Sam's chest slowly receded out of sight below the water. Bobby pulled Sam's right knee up gently, wiping the green, now slightly thicker water away from his thigh and grinned. "Dean, look." All signs of the venom were gone from Sam's leg. All that remained was a shallow, harmless-looking cut in the meat of his thigh above his knee. Bobby let it sink back into the tub with a relieved breath.
"Bobby." Dean put his free hand on Bobby's shoulder for a moment and looked at him with gratitude shining from the depths of his suspiciously shiny green eyes. "Thank you."
Clearly uncomfortable with the sincere emotion behind the simple words, Bobby looked away and started to push himself to his feet, mumbling something in response. Dean was able to make out "Lucky…able to….." and what sounded an awful lot like "….damn idjits," before Sam's soft groan pulled his attention back. "Sam?"
Sam opened his eyes, his vision blurred, and moaned. His whole body ached. "Dean. M'I ok?"
Dean grinned. "Yeah, buddy. You're good."
Sam looked down at the water, and, with great effort, managed to raise his right knee up. He smiled when he could feel it and bend it again and let it drop back with a small splash.
"Hey!" Bobby brushed the green water from the front of his shirt with an irritated scowl. "Already wearin' enough of this crap, thank you very little."
Sam chuckled softly and raised his hand to Dean. "Can I get out now? This…does not smell good."
Dean snorted and took his arm. "Smells like your shorts." He pulled Sam up with Bobby's help and supported him while Bobby wrapped a towel around him.
"Dude, I don't…don't wanna know why you sniff my shorts." Sam chuckled as exhaustion suddenly took what little strength he had left. His head dropped to Dean's shoulder with a groan.
Bobby laughed and wrapped the towel around Sam's waist while Dean lightly cuffed the back of his brother's head to further relieve the crushing tension of the last seven hours. "Get these off him and get him to bed."
"Ah, God. The mental image." Dean groaned and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I need to not have that picture in my head, Bobby."
"Get a grip." Bobby stood and eased Sam out of Dean's grip and into his own. "You're his brother. You get 'em off. I'll hold him up."
"S'embarrassing," Sam mumbled but didn't have the energy to argue about it. It was taking what little he had left just to stay conscious and standing. He felt his face flush red as Dean undid his jeans and yanked them down under the towel and took his boxers with them. "Sucks."
"Not a field day for me either, buddy. But, hey, after all those diapers I changed, I dunno what you're embarrassed about." Dean snorted and tossed the ruined pants and Sam's shorts that had come with them, into the corner. Thankfully the towel had stayed in place. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders when Sam shot him a weak glare but couldn't quite help the small quirk at the corner of his lips, "Ok, bed." He rose and took one of Sam's arms from Bobby. They carried Sam between them out and put him down on the bed, easing him beneath the blanket. "You could help, you know?"
Sam smirked but didn't open his eyes. "Mmf."
"Bum." Dean snorted a laugh as Sam's head rolled to the side, and, just like that, he was asleep. Dean rested a hand in Sam's hair for a moment for reassurance and then sat back heavily on the other bed and stared at his brother as the fear swept away on a tidal wave of relief that made him weak.
"He's alright, Dean," Bobby assured him. "Be good as new when he wakes up. Look like you need some sleep yourself." He patted Dean's shoulder and gave him a little shove. "Go on. I'll watch him."
"You've been up as long as I have." Dean shook his head.
"Yeah; but I haven't been watchin' someone I love turn to stone in front of me," Bobby said softly with a look at Sam. "Big difference. Sleep already." He pushed again and smiled as Dean went over with a thump to the pillow.
"Not sleeping," Dean said firmly even as he rolled to his stomach and wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Just takin' a break."
"Uh huh." Bobby tugged the blanket out from under him and tossed it over him as the first soft, muffled snort came out of the pillow and he chuckled fondly. He took off his cap and rubbed a hand through his hair as he went and sat in one of the chairs wearily. "I'm getting' too old for this shit."
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To Be Continued…
