Previously:

"I know." Dean interjected. "I also know how to kill it."

"Well, woohoo for you, boy." Bobby frowned. "But I bet you didn't know that it juiced up your brother here." Dean stared at him, mouth open- a storm building in his eyes.

Bobby swallowed, continuing. "And we've got less than 72 hours, so get off your ass."

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"Ok, one second." Dean sighed and took another swig of the cheap scotch Bobby had offered him. The burning sensation it left in his throat was almost comforting. "Run this by me again- summarized, if you please?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Monster hit Sam. Sam goes Ouchy. Monster stick Sam with probe, Probe release toxin. Toxin Kill Sam. Kapeesh?" Bobby didn't mean to be gruff, but he was as worried as Dean, and sitting here sure as hell wasn't helping his old nerves.

"All right, no need to go all 'grumpy old men' on me, Bobby." Dean stood, stretching his legs. He wandered over to Sam's bed, placing a hand on his brother's freakishly large forehead. It was still burning, but it seemed to be getting cooler. "I think the Aspirin helped a little, Bobby. I think his fever is going down a bit." He paused. "He doesn't seem that sick now." He looked at Bobby.

Dean's eyes were almost pathetically hopeful, and Bobby felt awful, but he knew the truth, and he couldn't let Dean's hopes get too high. He chose his words carefully. "Yep," Bobby began. "But like I told you, that attack your brother had a while ago was mild, and only the beginning. The way this venom works is complicated. It runs through your system, amplifying the sensitivity of every nerve, every connection." He shuddered. "We can't imagine that pain he's in. That's why we either have to keep him under, which I don't recommend, or we get him more than a few Tylenol PM."

Dean sent Bobby a humored skeptical glance, one eyebrow raised. "Are you suggesting we give Sam medical grade Painkillers?" Dean chuckled to himself, remembering the last time they had made that mistake. When Sam was 12, he had to get his wisdom teeth pulled out. Let's just say it didn't go well.

"Well," Bobby let out a breath. "It's the best chance we got of savin' your brother." He paused, then shrugged, taking a steadying breath. "Or at least, the best shot we got at keeping him alive longer." The venom, as he explained, could only be extracted from the body by a very old Filipino ritual. Bobby already had all the ingredients, except for one pesky little detail. The Aswang had to be in the room, alive, when they cut out its heart to throw into the flames to complete the spell.

Dean grinned mischievously, grabbing the keys to the Impala from the counter. "Well," he laughed. "There's only one place I know to get Morphine and an IV stand, and it sure as hell ain't Wal-Mart.

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The Hospital parking lot was practically empty, save for the few Porsches scattered under the street lamps. Bobby straightened his tie and checked his lapel to make sure he had the right fake ID. "We were goin' with the FBI on this one, right?"

Dean paused, checking his own lapel. "Yep, I'm Young, you're Scully."

"Hey, ya idjit, no way I'm bein' Scully."

Dean flashed him his trademark grin. "Well, you sure as hell aren't Young." Dean's Husky chuckle echoed in the empty lot as he skirted around the Impala, avoiding Bobby's impending slap to the back of the head.

"Ya idjit!" Bobby called after him. Bobby couldn't help but laugh, though. It was true, he realized as he watched the younger man walk to the entrance. Bobby felt it, age, wearing him down. Dean ran to the door so easily, so quickly. Bobby was still trying to get the aches out of his knees from sitting in the car on the way over here.

Dean waited for Bobby's old legs to carry him inside before entering behind him, and then stayed behind, enjoying the night air. It was a good night, and he figured he might as well enjoy it. Besides, Bobby could handle the receptionist. Dean took a deep breath and stared up at the stars, feeling the urge to call Castiel. But he was probably busy finding some freakish angel mojo weapon. Dean couldn't help but think Cas could easily fix Sam. Maybe he should give it a go…Nah. Cas is busy. They could handle this…right? He shuddered in the brisk air and walked inside.

The girl at the counter was a pretty young redhead, who was giving Bobby a bit of a tough time. Dean glanced down at her name tag. Amanda.

"Look, Agent," she said calmly but forcefully. "I cannot give you access to the storage floor. I am sorry, but you need a warrant." Bobby's originally complacent face turned into a scowl. He hated it when receptionists weren't stupid.

"Ma'am, we are agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and you will give us your full cooperation or we will have you detained for obstruction of justice and interference in a federal investigation."

Bobby's gruff and intimidating tone only made the young woman more stubborn. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. Bobby was so thick headed sometimes. He tapped Bobby on the shoulder, telling him to move aside. He slapped on his best Sam face (puppy eyes and all) and stepped closer to her desk, so he was leaning casually. "Hey there, miss. I know that this isn't exactly protocol, but I would really appreciate this. Please?" Bobby nearly choked in the background, smoothly turning it into a cough. Dean never said please to anyone. God, he was really hamming this one up.

Amanda's stubborn glare softened, and after taking in his expression, her whole face seemed to melt. She gave him a small smile. "Really," she continued, weaker now. "I feel bad, but I need a warrant. I'm not allowed…I could lose my job."

"No, no, I understand completely." Dean placed his warm hand on top of hers, feeling her heartbeat flutter a bit as a blush crept into her cheeks. He smothered it on so much; Bobby had to bite his cheek to control the laughter. "I understand, really, that we're asking a lot, but this is a really important case, and we need to look under every stone. I know there are risks here, but think about it. You could be saving someone life." His eyes were gushy now, and her lasts doubts crumbled away.

"Well, still…" She was glancing around now, checking to see if she would get caught.

"Please?" Dean was so close to her, his smell, like whiskey and old spice, surrounding her. God, she thought. That is a man. A real, fine man…

Dean had her exactly where he wanted her.

"Amanda," he said now with a rich, husky voice. She shudder at the sound of her own name coming from this…this hunk.

Dean was so pleased with himself, laying on the Winchester charm like butter on toast. She was putty in his hands. If he hadn't been trying to save Sam, he probably would try to get into her-

"Here you go." Amanda practically whispered it, handing him the access key.

As they trudged to the elevator, Dean glanced back to see Amanda staring after him, twirling her hair around her finger. "Woo," Dean let out a breath of arrogant delight. "Did I own that or what? Heh heh." Bobby said nothing until the elevator doors closed. Then he slapped him upside the head…twice.

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It was a little after eleven when Dean and Bobby got back from the Hospital. The moon hadn't risen yet, and it was a crisp, cool autumn night. They unloaded their newly acquired goodies from Bobby's bag, stationing the IV drip on top of the night stand. After plugging in Sam, they gave it a squeeze to get it going. After a couple of minutes, the drip was constant.

After about half an hour of waiting for the Morphine to take full effect, Dean stood and walked to Sam's bedside. "Well," Dean announced anxiously. "Here goes nothing." He had been dreading waking Sam up again, fearing that this time, they wouldn't be so lucky.

"Sammy?" Dean waited for any response, any sign to show him that Sam could hear him. He grabbed Sam's uninjured Shoulder and shook it. "Sam? Sammy? Time to get your ass outta bed, little bro." He looked at Bobby, who just shrugged.

"Try harder." He suggested.

Dean gave him a look.

"Sam!" he shouted this time. "WAKE THE HELL UP!" The shout went directly into Sam's eardrums, sending vibration through his brain. Still, no response. "Dammit, Bobby, how are we supposed to help him if we don't know what's wrong? We need to make sure he is ok, we need to explain everything to him. Tell him what's going on!" He ran a hand through his hair. He turned and walked back to the table ready to sit down with another beer. He stopped, his body half lowered into the chair. "Did you hear that?" Bobby furrowed his brow.

"No, what was it?"

"I-I don't know. It sounded like…a giggling ten year old girl…" It wasn't until Dean said it that he realized he must sound crazy.

"O-K there kiddo, you need some sleep." Bobby was hushing his protests when the laughter sounded again, louder and deeper.

"What The hell?" Dean and Bobby looked at one another, then turned around.

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Sam felt dizzy, and his mouth was dry…He could have sworn someone was calling his name. "Sam!" he had heard. Ha-ha. Sam. It was a funny name. He felt the tip of his tongue on the inside of his mouth trying to pronounce "SAM" and he laughed. It tickled. He felt his whole body floating off the bed. It was cool-no wait, scary. Yah, it was definitely scary. No wait, it was kind of cool again... Yep, definitely super cool. But not natural. No, definitely unnatural. It was…Super…Natural…Supernatural. He laughed a deep chuckle. Supernatural sounds like "Pooper Natural." Ha-ha, that was a good one. Dean would like that one. Speaking of Dean, where was Dean? And who shut off the lights? He looked harder into the darkness. Nope, still nothing. Wait, are those my eyelids? Oh, yep. Yep they are. Sam laughed again at his own stupidity. Of course they are my eyelids! He didn't remember being blindfolded, and he was pretty sure they weren't someone else's eyelids… Well, pretty sure, anyway.

Sam pushed his eyes open, and was confused when he found himself looking at a water damaged ceiling. Wasn't he supposed to be floating on a cloud somewhere?

"D-n?" He cracked out. Why was his throat dry? He heard footsteps running towards him. They sounded like echoes, far away.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean's cold hands made contact with his warm neck, causing Sam to gasp in surprise. "Dude! Yer hands are soooooooooo cooooold." His speech was slurring. Was he drunk? No, when he got drunk it was only on rum, and he couldn't taste coconut. He was confused when Dean started to grin in amusement.

He pulled his eyebrows together, thinking he missed a joke. "D-d you make…funny?" he asked, sincerely perplexed. Dean's smirk turned into a full on laugh as he wiped Sam's hair away from his eyes.

"Man, you are so high off your ass right now." Dean was trying futilely to control his laughter but that was harder said than done. Especially when Bobby was behind him howling.

"No, 'm not." Sam actually put on a pouty face, something Dean hadn't seen since he was thirteen. "I am not hiiiigh cuz I didn't take any drugs or pixie dust." Sam's face was set in stone.

"You-you mean 'angel dust', Sammy? Like PCP?" Dean wished he had a camera.

"No, uh uh. Pixie dust, f-r two reas-ns." Sam linked hard and held up one finger, hand floating in all directions. "Reas-n numb-r one: Pixies –r bett-r th-n angels, cuz ang-ls are pricks." He snorted. " 'cept Castiel. He's pretty chill."

Dean was struggling to control himself. "Ok, Sammy. " he prompted "what's reason number two?" he shot a look at Bobby who was still in the corner laughing.

Sam went on, completely serious, almost as if he were giving a lecture. "Reas-n num-br 2: Pixie Dust is wha' made Pe'er Pan go high in the sky, so, ya know…me too."

Dean rolled his head back, nodding in sincerely sarcastic agreement. "Your logic is astounding." He reassured his brother.

"Yah, I know. I'm Awes-m." Sam said it so nonchalantly that Dean would have slapped him upside the head if he hadn't been ready to cry from relief. Sam was awake. High off his ass, but he was fine.

"Sammy," Dean cleared his throat, regaining his composure. They had work to do, and they only had a small window of time before Sam went back to Dreamland. "What do you remember?"

Sam looked at him hard and serious, so serious in fact that Dean thought for a second he was about to say something incredibly intelligent or helpful. But of course, he was wrong.

Sam's intent gaze never left his face. "I ha'sumthin to tell you. Is a matt'r o life and death, Dean."

Dean nodded. Sam pulled himself in closer wrapping one arm around Dean's neck so Dean's ear was next to Sam's mouth.

"D-n," he whispered. Bobby moved in closer, under the pretense, like Dean, that Sam was about to say something intelligent.

"Yah, Sammy?"

"I…hehehehe…I fa- hahahahahahahaha- Dean, I kinda far-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!" Sam was crying, doubling over, laughing so hard it was silent.

"Sam?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I far-farted Dean! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!"

"Oh sweet mother of god." Dean stood up and walked to the kitchen. Sam was gonna need a couple of minutes. Dean popped his unopened beer, now warm on the table. Still, a beer was a beer. Sam was still pounding on the bed, face red and his back shaking, gasping between barks of laughter.

Dean laughed despite himself. Sam did look kind of ridiculous. Bobby was shaking his head slowly from side to side. "Boy," he began. "When you said he didn't handle meds well…"

Dean and Bobby looked at each other.

Sam snorted.

"Great idea Bobby. Really." Dean watched his little brother cracking himself up, and couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since Sam laughed like that. Even if he was high, Dean could enjoy it, even if only for a little while.

"Sam," Dean sat back on the edge of the bed, interrupting his laughter.

"DEAN! Holy crapola, man. When did you get here?" Sam was stopped laughing, and took on the appearance of a deer in the headlights…no, more like a moose in the headlights.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I have been here this whole time. Now, Sam, I need you to focus."

"Oh, Dean!" He cried, falling sideways to hug his brother tightly. "Man, I love you man. You are, like, the best big brother ever. You know that? Well you do now. You kick ass and take names. You are so cool." Sam wrapped him in closer. "Hehe, Dean, you're blushing. Hehe." Dean actually couldn't help it; he leaned into the hug, enjoying the warmth, the familiarity. But of course, Dean would deny for years that he liked being hugged by his little brother.

He wasn't some chick.

Bobby was openly laughing now. "Idjits…"

"BOBBY!" Sam launched off the bed before Dean could snag him and walked sideways into the wall, making a loud "OOF!" He bounced off at an equal and opposite angle, which really is the only way he made it to the table. He stopped, swaying slightly. He pointed a finger in the general direction of the wall. "Hey," he threatened. You watch it. I'm walking here." He shrugged his shoulders out of habit, repositioning the faded jacket that wasn't there. Bobby was nearby, standing ready to catch him as he finished loping across the floor. "Bobby! Robert! When did you get here?"

Bobby laughed as Sam fell forward into a warm embrace. Jesus, Bobby groaned inwardly, when did this kid get so damned huge? He lowered Sam to a chair and shook his head at the oblivious cheerful expression he received.

Dean laughed, kind of liking the new "huggy" Sam. God, he was never gonna let the kid live this one down. Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder and a huge grin split the sleepy moose's face in half. "Sam, you dumbass. Look what you got yourself into."

"Uh-uh. Yep."

"You with me?"

"Uh-uh. Yep."

Bobby chuckled and Dean cut in, ready to get down to business. "What do you remember Sam? What do you remember from the library?"

Sam stopped and made a face. It looked like he was constipated; but really, it was just his doped up thinking expression. He made a move to speak, then stopped himself.

Dean saw the flinch, and knew he had to push him further. "C'mon Sam, we need to kill this thing and patch you up. I need to you tell me everything."

Sam nodded, slow up and down. "Well, I think…yah. I was in a library." He smiled, obviously proud of himself. The expression a dog gets in its face the first time in shits in the backyard instead of the house.

"That's great, Sam. Really. Thank you. What next?" Dean was on the edge of the bed, keeping Sam focused on his face so he wouldn't trail off again.

"Weeeellllll, I… I tripped. I tripped over something, and Nancy Drew was there…"

"Nancy Drew? You tripped over Nancy Drew?"

Sam snorted. "Don't be stuuuuuupid Dean," Sam reached forward and pinched his brother's cheek with a fuzzy, clumsy hand. "Nancy Drew is like, 12 years old. I wouldn't trip over some girl. No." he stared out into space, feeling like Nancy Drew was important, but not knowing why.

Sam looked at Dean.

Dean stared back.

Sam sneezed.

Dean threw the tissue box at him.

"Nope, I got nothing, man."

Dean sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Sam, c'mon. I dropped you off, I watched you walk in. You called me five minutes later, all hell breaking loose in the background. What. Happened. What did you see?"

Sam pictured it, walking in. He grabbed the handle. No wait, something was wrong. Something, a felling, was wrong. The feeling…the feeling…the feeling…

Of being watched.

Suddenly, it hit him like a train. The images were clear in his head. Him, on the floor, the hard metal shelf. The children's section- the librarian with her unseeing eyes . The monster tackled him, sending his phone spiraling out of his hand. He remembered what he saw, what he noticed about the creature. He remembered lying, barely conscious ion the ground waiting for his brother to come find him, to save him. He saw the monster walk towards him, extending his spears, he remembered the stabbing, and the gurgling of his own blood as it was sucked from his body. Sam could feel tears in his eyes. It had been so horrible. Why was he crying? He never cried! Was he really this upset? What the hell!

Dean looked on concerned as his brother's carefree expression grew somber, then terrified. When he started crying, he knew he couldn't take any more of this shit.

"Sam! Snap out of it."

It hit him like a train. "The heart!" he yelled, sending Dean almost reeling to the floor.

"What about a heart, Sammy?" Dean was so confused.

"Sam?" Bobby was at the foot of the bed now.

"When, the thingy stuck me with the other thingies," Sam was using a voice that Dean hadn't heard since Sam's first hunt. It was the voice that let Dean know Sam was scared. Dean patted him on the bicep awkwardly, hoping it would calm him down.

Note to self, stop giving Sam drugs.

Sam continued, rocking back and forth slightly. "When it stabbed me, it had this thingy on its chest, a mud flap thing, like the ones we see on the highway, Dean, on the 18 wheelers. Why do they have mud flaps, Dean? We always get sprayed anyways and-"

"Sam, focus."

"Sorry."

Bobby took a deep breath.

"So anyway," Sam was playing with his stitches now, and Dean had to slap his hand away from them like a child at the candy store. "But Dean, they're itchy!" He was whining, and Bobby was chortling in the corner. Dean shut him up and told Sam to keep going. "So, as I was saying to you, it opened up its tummy like this-" Sam held his arms out and made a weird gesture, like lateral crocodile jaws from his chest. "Then it pushed out its stickies and plunged them into my tummy. It hurt. But he was all glowy and poofy and weird, and I could see his heart, Dean. It had to open its tummy and I could see its heart."

Bobby and Dean exchanged glances. They had just found the monster's weak spot.

Sam continued, straying more and more as exhaustion and morphine threatened his sanity. "I heard you Dean, yelling. I thought you were still on the phone, cuz it was on the shelf above me…I …think I threw it…No, I wouldn't throw it. I got pushed, and Nancy Drew…"

Sam Winchester grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "Dean," he said. "I remember why Nancy Drew is important!"

Dean blinked twice. "Why, Sam?"

"Because Nancy Drew mugged me and stole my Blackberry."

Dean paused.

"Goodnight, Sam."

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That's chapter 4. Please Review! I will send you all miniature Sam Winchesters in the mail, equipped with morphine and pajama pants!