Sam's head shot up and, holding his breath, he sent the flashlight beam searching around them. He cursed himself for nodding off. When he was sure the salt line was still intact and no Foogers had come any closer, he looked at his watch.

"Damn it!"

He'd been asleep for almost an hour.

"Dean?"

Dean managed to let out a moan and Sam sighed in relief, happy that he'd gotten a response. They were both alive and his little nap had been harmless.

Sam grabbed the water bottle and tried to get Dean to take a sip or two. Most of what Sam poured into Dean's mouth wound up dribbling down his chin, but he did manage a few gulps before weakly pushing the bottle away.

"Don' wanna puke again," he slurred.

Sam nodded in agreement and recapped the bottle, putting it back into the duffle bag.

"Time?" Dean asked.

"Only four-thirty or so. We still got another hour, hour and a half before dawn," Sam replied.

Dean nodded, shivered and leaned into Sam's embrace, searching for warmth. Sam readjusted the blankets and held Dean closer.

"So tell me more about that state fair, Dean," Sam suggested. "You and Dad find any mother/daughter teams to hook up with?"

Dean snorted, disgusted. "Oh, man, Sammy," he said. "Don'…don' even go there."

Dean grumbled some more, mumbled something about nightmare inducing images, but it was the reaction Sam was hoping for.

"Come on, Dean. It was a state fair. I'm sure there were lots of young women prancing around in their Daisy Dukes, showing off their prize pigs. You were probably in hog heaven," he continued to tease, laughing at his pun

Dean just groaned and shook his head.

"Okay, then," Sam tried again, "What, you two spent your time at the arcade, shot everything in sight at the shooting gallery until the carnies had to start refusing your money because they figured you two for ringers?"

Sam got a little scared when Dean didn't reply and moved one of his hands over Dean's chest, to make sure he was still breathing

But Dean moved the hand away, taking his time to think over the question, and then replied, "Dad… got kicked out. I made sure… to miss… enough times… to keep suspicions down."

"Yeah, you missed on purpose. Right."

"I did!" Dean retorted, twisting to try to look at Sam in the eye. "Aagh, shit!" he cursed, when his shoulder twisted, bringing hot fiery pain with it.

"Easy, Dean, easy," Sam scolded gently, holding onto his brother a little tighter, hoping to keep him from moving too much. It was then that the eerie screeching began, sounding something like a sick cross between Godzilla and a Howler Monkey. "What the fuck?"

"Fuckin' Foogers," Dean replied, his tone of voice giving Sam the slap on the back of his head that his hands couldn't.

The screeching got louder, a sign that the Foogers were getting closer. Sam scooched out from under Dean, making sure Dean was covered with the blankets, and then stood over him, Glock and flashlight back in his hands. He turned in place, trying to locate the beasts, hoping they'd come close enough to get a good shot at them. He really needed for this night to be over.

Sound and movement to his right caught his attention. Sam whipped around, found his target in a pair of glowing red eyes, and fired. More movement, to his left this time, and again Sam whirled and fired. With all the shrieking going on, he wasn't sure if he'd gotten either of the Foogers he'd shot at. He shot a few more times as he constantly circled, careful not to step on Dean as he did so, and thought he hit at least three more of the Foogers.

"How you doing, Dean?" he called down, still alert.

Unfortunately, Dean wasn't. Silence was his only answer. Sam reached a hand down, felt his brother's face and neck, felt his fever and pulse, and stood back up.

"Come on you furry little slimeballs," Sam murmured as he began moving in his slow circle again.

Sam fired six more shots, changed magazines and shot twice more before the shrieking finally stopped. Could he have gotten them all? Sam hoped, but he didn't bet on it. He began to wonder why the things had stayed quiet all night, only to start their screeching, and possible attack now. He looked at the sky. It was starting to lighten up a bit in the east. Could that have had something to do with it? A last ditch effort to attack the two of them before sunrise?

Sam decided that he didn't care. He made another quick check of the salt circle with the flashlight, making sure it was still intact, before sinking to his knees next to Dean, again putting a hand to his brother's chest, making sure he was still there, still alive.

He figured he had at least a good half an hour to go before sunrise. Getting Dean medical attention was his first priority as soon as the sun rose, but he'd have to do something with their weapons, too. He couldn't just leave shotguns and ammo lying about in a state forest. But there was no way he could carry both the duffels and Dean, nor would he have time for two trips to the car.

Sam remembered seeing a few downed trees on their way to the clearing. He thought they might provide enough cover for most of their supplies, which he could then get later. He believed he could take the guns in one of the duffel bags with them, though.

That decision made, Sam started sorting through the bags. He put some of their guns – the two shotguns and two of the pistols – in one bag, stuck one pistol in his waistband and left another by the duffel. That one would be carried in his free hand. The rest of the stuff – first aid supplies, wooden stakes, holy water, drinking water and ammo – he put in the other duffel bag. As soon as the sun rose, he'd hide that second bag under the fallen trees and then get Dean and the guns out.

He thought for a second or two about the dead Foogers he'd be leaving behind, but that was about it. He didn't care who found these things at this point. Maybe the survivors would come eat them for snack later on…

00000

When Sam judged it to be light enough, he picked up the bag of supplies, grabbed his Glock and headed for the fallen trees. He made it there and back in less than five minutes, without hearing or seeing any sign of any Foogers. This trip had been about more than hiding the supplies – it was a test run, to see if he'd be able to get Dean out without any more Fooger encounters.

Looking around one more time, he slung the weapons bag over his shoulder.

"I can't remember the last time I've been this happy to see the sun," Sam said, lifting his brother into his arms, readying them for the long walk back to the Impala.

Dean murmured softly and Sam thought he caught a flash of green eyes.

A/N: Yes, I know… it's been too long since I updated this fooging thing. Real life can really suck sometimes. So can procrastination and muse abandonment. I hope this is worth the wait and I can finish this before the end of the year. Thanks for hanging in. And special thanks go to November's Guest for the cheerleading. Go Dean! RAH!! That flash of green was for you!