A/N: Once again, I find myself apologizing for my lack of attention to responding to the reviews. I am grateful to anyone that left one and hope you continue to do so, as I let them guide me in the direction I take my stories on occasion. Thank-you again for taking the time to leave them, and I am really sorry for not answering them.
Chapter 4
"This is seriously fucked up Dean," Sam stated, once he could actually force his brain to think in a straight line and not in some crazy zigzagging pattern that weaved in and out of sanity, now that his brother was no longer projecting bloodcurdling screams or spray painting the walls with his own body fluids, body fluids that had miraculously disappeared from wherever they had ended up after crossing his lips. Sam decided to leave that little detail out for the moment; at least until he knew what the hell was wrong with his Dean.
"I said I'm ok Sam, really," Dean responded as he threw his arm over his face, his voice soft and tired even to his own ears.
"No Dean, you are not 'ok'. You are far from 'ok'. 'Ok' people don't stop breathing in the middle of the night while they're sleeping, or double over in pain, clutching their stomachs and screaming at the top of their lungs in agony for no apparent reason, then start coughing up blood that seems to vanish when it hits a wall or the floor. You can lay there and argue with me all you want, but I'm telling you, you are not 'ok.' None of this is 'ok," Sam argued, his voice a mixture of fear and anger, and he hoped that small detail he had wanted to keep to himself that he accidentally let slip out in his fear went unnoticed by his brother.
"Ok," was the only thing Dean could think to say, and that really only succeeded in upsetting Sam even more.
"Dude, do you think this is funny? In twenty four years, I have never heard you scream like that…"
"Yeah, well you weren't there when the Thomas twins and I were…"
"DEAN, STOP! It scared the hell out of me. What the hell happened to you?" Sam demanded, his tone deadly serious.
"I don't know Sammy, but it's gone now. Really, except for a slight headache, I feel ok." 'Yeah, a slight headache that's about to make my brain meltdown and start oozing out my ear, ok.'
"Yeah, sure. That's why you're still laying in the exact same spot you dragged yourself to with your feet still on the floor and your coat still on and an arm covering your eyes to hide your face, right? Contrary to what you may believe sometimes, I wasn't born yesterday Dean," Sam shot back, not believing one word coming from his brother's mouth, and Dean knew it.
Drawing in a deep breath, Dean lifted himself off the mattress and made a concerted effort to sit up, wanting more than anything to prove Sam wrong. He was ok, and damn it if he wasn't going to make Sam believe he was ok, even though his first attempt at that today hadn't gone exactly the way he had planned it to. With the coppery taste of blood lingering in his mouth, he really wanted nothing more than a cold glass of water to wash away the foul flavor assaulting his taste buds, and once he was fairly confident he could stand, he attempted just that and set his sights on the bathroom door.
The bathroom wasn't far, but when his vision started swimming the second he tried to rise, it may as well have been on the moon. Determined to remain upright, he blindly reached for the closest stable thing within his arm span to hold on to and just closed his eyes, waiting for the rotation of the room to slow or stop. He'd crack one eye open every couple seconds and noticed that instead of the tilt-a-whirl slowing down, somehow it seemed to be speeding up and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop it. The dizziness that was now permanently fixed in his head had made his knees start to buckle, and it was at that point that he realized the one and only stable thing he had somehow latched onto was Sam, who was now slowly guiding him back down to the spot he had started from. 'Ok, maybe I'm not ok'.
Sam said nothing as he took off his brother's boots one at a time, the resounding 'clunk' each one made as they hit the floor making Dean wince somewhat; not so much from pain but mostly from embarrassment; then rested his legs down on the bed with a stack of pillows under his ankles before crossing his own arms over his chest and waited for Dean to open his eyes. He could feel Sam's stare on him, but until he knew he could look at him without seeing three or four of him, he was keeping the lids down. The sound of his little brother's frustrated breathing next to him forced him to try, and much to his surprise, he seemed to be fine now. He met Sam's worried eyes with his own, and he could tell by the look on his brother's face exactly what was on his mind.
"Dean…" he said slowly and deliberately, "You need to see a doctor. You may have a pretty nasty concussion, or worse."
'Yep, here we go,' was what he wanted to say, but the tone of voice Sam used made Dean think twice about that. "Sam, what I really need is something to eat. We never stopped before we checked in, and whatever I did eat yesterday I puked up this morning anyway. We've been here for, what, an entire day now. Dude, no big surprise I can't see straight. I'm surprised you aren't falling over too." 'Damn, that sounded convincing,' Dean thought, pretty proud of himself and sure Sam would believe every word.
"Once again Dean, not born yesterday," he argued, keeping his voice calm and cool.
'Damn it! Try harder Dean,' "I'm not stonewalling you man, honest to god. I really think I just need some food. Besides, where the hell are you gonna find a doctor right now anyway? We're snowed in, remember?" "Yes, victory! Try arguing that one Sammy!'
As much as he wanted to continue his argument, Sam knew he couldn't deny that logic. Dean was right, they were snowed in, and unless there was a physician in one of the other rooms, Sam was just shit out of luck. "Yeah, but…maybe there's…we could call…FINE! You win. But I swear Dean, if this doesn't stop after you get something in your stomach, I'm knocking on every door in this crappy motel until I find someone who knows something, anything about the human body. Doctor, vet, mortician, I don't give a shit which one, understand?"
"Yes, mother. Now go, please, before I shrivel up and die. Burger and fries, extra cheese and onions, oh, and maybe a piece of pie too. And grab a paper while you're at it, if we're stuck in this Podunk town, we may as well see what's going on in it."
"Anything else, master? You know, the longer you ramble, the longer it's going to take me to sled across the street," Sam barked at him with a frown. When Dean just shot him a finger, he grabbed his laptop, turned is back and walked out the door.
The wind was blowing hard and cold, but it had let up somewhat in the last few minutes, enough to actually see the diner across the street from where he stood. Sam stepped from the building out into the frosty air and trudged through the nearly knee deep snow slowly, the dense pack of the flakes making it heavy and hard to navigate through quickly. Once he was well away from the building, mother nature had seemed to give him a helping hand though, the strong winds whipping the freshly fallen powder in every direction enough so that it didn't accumulate as high on the ground, and each step Sam took, he found he feet only buried up to his ankles instead of his kneecaps. After what felt like the longest walk in his life, Sam finally reached the door of the diner, and stepped thankfully inside.
The little restaurant was pretty much deserted, every table and booth empty except for a little old couple that sat in the farthest corner that had pretty much ignored him when he had come in from the brutal elements outside. He was greeted by a big breasted, big smiled woman behind the counter that had seen a few too many summers under the hot, baking sun, making her appear much older than her actual years.
"Howdy there young man. I see you didn't get blown away coming across that street. Wind's pretty nasty today. Kitchen's wide open though, what can I getcha?" She asked in an overly jovial tone. Nice to see some people didn't turn into total psychotics when they were trapped in a blizzard with nowhere to go.
"Uh, yeah. Can I get a burger and fries, extra onions and cheese…aww, just make that two, and whatever kind of pie you may have back there?"
"Hoo Wee, you planning on eatin' all that by yourself? You look a little scrawny there to be packin' it away like that," she laughed again, and much to Sam's dismay, he was really starting to get annoyed. Overly friendly people and exceptionally foul moods never mixed well.
"Make it to go. I left my brother at the motel after I drew the short straw, thanks."
"Coming right up then," she said with a wink. "Have a seat, I'll bring it out to you in a jiffy."
Sam all but ignored the woman as he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched the number that would connect him to Bobby while he sat in a booth in a corner and opened his computer. 'Strong cell signal and decent wifi connection, who could ask for anything more?' He thought as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line as the laptop ran through its startup, the welcome screen and Bobby's voice both coming to him almost simultaneously.
"Sam…where the hell are you two?" He demanded, obviously worried that he hadn't heard from either brother when they didn't show up when they had said they would.
"Hey Bobby. We didn't beat that storm, and we're sort of stuck in Wisconsin. Sorry for not calling sooner, but we have no signal in our room," he paused for a second before continuing, pondering just how to explain what was going on. "We're in a little motel in Menomonie, and something weird is going on," Sam finished as clicked away on his keyboard at the same time and listened to the momentary silence from the other end.
"Define 'weird' Sam. What, exactly, does that mean?" Bobby finally asked, knowing the Winchester definition of weird was not how most people thought weird should be.
"Well, it's Dean…" Sam went on, still not sure how to describe the situation yet.
"Now why am I not surprised?" Bobby snorted back.
"Bobby please…"
"Sorry Sam, go on," he apologized, and went quiet to let Sam explain.
"Well, he split his head open late last night, bad enough that I had to stitch it up, and he's been acting strange ever since. He's lethargic, he threw up, he's got a headache, and he gets dizzy, shit like that,"
"Sounds like he's got one whopper of a concussion Sam, that's all. Nothing a day or two of decent rest won't cure," the older man expressed what he thought should have been obvious, but judging by the sound of Sam's voice, it wasn't.
"Yeah, that's what I thought too, until a little while ago. We were going to walk over to this diner I'm sitting in right now, until something weird happened," Sam stopped for a second, leaving Bobby hanging.
"I'm still waiting for the weird part Sam," he barked, envisioning the young man lost in his own thoughts and trying to verbally smack him back into the real world with the sound of his voice.
"Well, he had some kind of attack. He just grabbed his stomach and hit the ground screaming. God Bobby, I've never heard anything as horrible as that in my entire life."
"Damn it Sam, is he ok?" He questioned, sounding a little panicked for a second before composing himself.
"I don't know. I dragged him back into the room, and he suddenly started coughing up blood. It was on the wall and on the floor, but then it just stopped. The next thing I knew, he crawled up onto the bed and it was over."
"He needs a doctor Sam, that's not normal," was all Bobby could to think to say. For that, he had no answer.
"There's more Bobby," Sam continued undaunted by the comment the older man had made. "When I looked at the wall, the blood was gone, vanished, like it was never there to begin with. Then something hit me that I almost forgot. Dean was bleeding all over the sink when I stitched his head up, but when I went back to the bathroom to clean it up, it was gone, like it had never been there either."
"Ok, that is weird. Where is your brother now?"
"Back at the room. He can barely stand up, so I ran over here myself to get some food and call you. We have no signal in there, and I can't get online either. Can you see if you can dig up anything on the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel'? We're stuck here until at least tomorrow, assuming the plows come to dig us out by then. I need to know if it's just Dean, or if there's something else going on here, because if it's just Dean, our next stop is the local ER."
"You got it Sam, I'll see what I can find out. Give me a couple hours to check things out. I'll call you when I've got something," he promised the youngest Winchester, not liking any of what he was hearing.
"You can try, but I'm not sure you'll get through. If I don't hear from in a few hours, I'll call you," Sam instructed back, pretty sure he wouldn't get the call if and when it came in if he was in that room at the time. "Bobby…thanks."
"Be careful Sam, and take care of that pig headed brother of yours," he said as he hung up, leaving Sam with a earful of dead air.
Finally able to concentrate on his search in front of him, he typed in as many keywords as he could find, coming up just about empty with each and every one. As much crap as there was on the internet, the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel' seemed to be non-existent in the realm of the world wide web. Broadening his horizons, he just simply asked for motel, Menomonie, and Wisconsin, and hit go. That request produced nearly nothing also, other than a brief article he clicked on about the sale of the 'Whispering Pines Inn' twenty years before, after it being for sale for nearly three years. Spying the ridiculously happy lady from the counter heading his way with a big, brown bag, he just slammed the lid shut and hoped Bobby would have better luck. Given enough time, he probably could have found something useful, but the longer he left Dean alone, the more nervous he seemed to get, and he had no explanation as to why.
"Here you go handsome, hope pecan pie is alright, it's all we got," she grinned as she handed him the bag. "I tossed in some vanilla ice cream too, on the house. That gonna be cash or charge?"
Sam silently stood and tucked his computer under his arm as he followed her to the counter to pay, and left with a simple thank-you as he stepped back out into the cold. The journey back across seemed to take twice as long as it had to the first time now that he was walking into the wind, it seemingly pushing him back with every step he tried to take forward. His body was nearly chilled to the bone now that his hair and pant legs were soaked from the initial trip, and it seemed to make him go even slower. That, and the sick feeling he somehow had in the pit of his stomach, almost like he was being watched. Something was very wrong, but as his face landed in a mound of snow when his feet came out from under him and he felt the stinging pain in the back of his head, he forgot what he was trying to figure out when his world went dark.
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Dean could hear his brother fumbling with the key just outside the door and he was pretty sure it was because he had his hands full, but he just didn't dare climb off the bed yet to help him. He'd only just gotten his head to clear now that it wasn't pulsating in his skull anymore, and he had no intentions of tempting fate by making any sudden, drastic moves. Yeah, he could hear Sam in his recently cleared head already, 'What the hell Dean, you send me out into the freezing cold for food, and you can't even open the damn door for me when I come back…' but he'd live with it. He was free of the throbbing headache and the dizziness that went with it, and he wanted to keep it that way. Besides, by the time he'd decided he wasn't going to open the door for his brother, the key was in the lock and the knob was turning anyway.
Sam said nothing, just breezed by him without even a glance and slammed the door shut behind him before he dropped the brown bag on the table and started rummaging through it as Dean stared at him with his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised in sheer surprise. Sam was most definitely pissed, but about what, Dean didn't know.
"Something wrong Sam? Did you get a hold of Bobby?" He asked, rather tentatively when the tension radiating from his brother hit him in the face.
"No, I didn't bother to try," he coldly replied.
"Why?" Dean asked, the confusion obvious in his voice.
"Because I wanted to gut you like a fish before I did, so I'd at least have something interesting to talk to him about," Sam sneered as he turned to face Dean with those yellowish-red eyes he'd seen before in his dream, but this time, he wasn't so sure he was dreaming.