The fog is everywhere—dense and cold and gray, inside his mind and out of it. Sam can hide here. When he's in the fog, nothing really hurts any more.

He thinks he hears the fairies. There are laughter and bells, and Sam would follow them, but then they would know who he is—what he is. They won't want him once they know.

Sam thinks he's opening his eyes, but the pain comes back in a tongue of fire, and Sam is floating over his own body, burning. His blood is boiling under his skin, he feels like his guts are being turned inside out, and someone is screaming.

Then, there's water—on his lips, in his mouth, down his throat. He wants to gag, but there's a hand under his chin, forcing his mouth closed.

"You gotta drink it, bro. Keep it down."

"Clover juice isn't gonna help if he pukes it back up again."

"Do you think I don't know that? Shit, he's burning up—"

"We're almost out."

"You're okay… don't fight me. You're okay, Sam. Come on—hold on. Hey Sammy, I need more of your clover crap…"

"We're almost out. Sammy and I can find some more. You have to make him drink it."

"Doing my best here…."

Sam doesn't want to drink what's being forced into his mouth. But he's stuck—he can't get away. There are hands everywhere, making him drink, holding him down, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam would fight them off, but he can't keep hurting everyone he loves. Such a fool, thinking he could save the world when he was created to destroy it.

Sam was baptized with hellfire, but he still doesn't know if fire and brimstone is literal or figurative. Sam never asked, and Dean never said… figures he'll find out soon enough. He's burning now.

"God, Sam, please keep it down…"

***

Dean can't watch Sam suffer. He's not wired that way. There's got to be some way to make it better, but it's going to be dark soon, and he can't send the boys back into the forest. Sammy and the kid found a bunch of four-leaf clovers, something Dean thought unlikely until the kid did point out that they're in a freakin' fairy forest, so who knows…

They mashed it up and mixed it with holy water, something Dean is fervently hoping isn't going to make it worse. But miraculously…improbably…Sam seems to be a little better.

It was touch and go just a while ago. Sam's fever spiked so high that Dean worried he would start having seizures—Dean never wants to go through that particular hell again. But they forced more and more of the clover crap down his throat, and little by little, the fever came down. Sam is still hot, but he's not burning up any more.

Young Dean is off filling up the canteens and looking for more clover. Sammy wanted to go too, but they wouldn't let him. No sense in taking unnecessary chances if they don't have to. Dean desperately wanted to go with them though. He doesn't know how to do this—how to watch Sam suffer when there's so little he can do for him. But he can't leave his brother. He was a fool to ever think he could.

Sammy has been sitting off to the side, organizing the contents of his backpack and occasionally getting up to check on Sam. Dean notices though that the boy keeps looking over at him. Finally he comes over and sits next to Dean on the log.

"What's going on, kiddo?" Dean asks, keeping his tone lighter than he feels. It takes everything he's got not to mess with Sammy's tangles—the kid is a mess, but this Sammy doesn't belong to him any more.

"What did Sam do that's so bad?"

Dean feels his stomach clench, and he wonders what signals he's been giving out. "Nothing. Everything's fine—other than the obvious in the middle of a curse crap."

Sammy shakes his head. "Something's wrong. Dean thinks so too."

Dean sighs. "Look—we were having a fight for a while, but it's over. It has nothing to do with you."

"But he's me. If he did something to make you mad, that just means I'm going to do it too."

Logically, Dean knows that this makes sense, but he can't get his head around it. "It's not that simple."

"You always say that."

Does he? Maybe he does.

But there's something about Sammy's bitchy little frown…. When Dean was a kid, it used to piss him off. But it's been so long since he's seen it, and it's so achingly familiar…

Dean does something he would never have done when he was fifteen. He reaches down and grabs Sammy in a fierce hug. When Sammy looks at him like he's lost his mind, Dean shoves the boy back a little and playfully scruffs up his hair.

"Well then, you should listen to me," Dean finishes up.

Twigs snap and leaves crunch. Dean turns and sees the teenage idiot stalking toward them.

"What's going on? Did you just push him?"

They stare incredulously at young Dean, and thank God—Sammy starts laughing first.

Of course, that pisses the kid off. "C'mon. You need to brush your teeth."

"Are you serious?" Sammy asks.

"Toothbrushes are in my backpack. Now, Sammy—get your ass in gear."

Sammy flips his brother off as soon as his back is turned and mutters under his breath, "Jerk."

Young Dean calls over his shoulder, "Bitch."

And Dean misses his own brother more than ever.

TBC