See Chapter one for summary, author's notes, etc

Unchartered Waters

4

From that point on, Dean remained half-conscious, occasionally lucid and aware of their presence, but mostly lost in a world of pain, every ounce of strength expended in a battle against the constant agony coursing through his body. Caitlin and Sam sat on either side of his bed, doing what little they could to make him comfortable by massaging trembling, knotted muscles and wiping his body down with damp washcloths as the fever rose.

Early on, Caitlin could tell Dean was aware enough to try not to show how badly he was suffering, only occasionally allowing a groan or gasp to pass his lips. She was sure it was because he wanted to spare Sam the pain of watching him suffer. Part of her admired his courage, part of her wanted to scream at him to just let go, to shout, scream, or do whatever he needed to help himself through this.

As time went on and the pain escalated, the groans became more frequent, and Dean was unable to hold back the occasional agonized cry when a particularly severe spasm tore through his body. Hours ago, Sam had firmly grasped his hand and had not let go since, and Caitlin had watched Dean's suffering mirrored on his brother's face as Sam sat beside him, keeping up a constant stream of soft-voiced murmurs. The contact seemed to help.

There came a point when Sam seemed like he could no longer bear to watch Dean toss and turn in a futile attempt to escape the constant torment. He climbed up on the bed, maneuvered himself behind Dean and pulled his brother into his arms, head resting against Sam's chest. Arms wrapped around Dean, Sam rocked him gently, softly whispering words Caitlin could not make out. Dean seemed to take a little comfort from it all, although he was still tense, fisting Sam's T-shirt in one hand until his knuckles showed white and bracing the other against the bed.

Moments later, Dean twisted his head so he could look up at Sam, and his fever-filled eyed locked with his brother's. "Make it stop, Sammy."

The words were barely a whisper, but Caitlin felt a jolt of shock run through her at the sheer torment reflected in those few words. It was the first time in long hours that he'd uttered a single word of complaint. Had Dean reached the end of his endurance? She couldn't blame him. He'd been fighting for fifteen hours, and there was surely only so much torment one man could take, even one as obviously strong of body and mind as this one.

Sam tightened his grip. "I can't, Dean. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't make it stop."

"Hurts… so bad…."

"I know. I know, Dean." There was a catch in Sam's voice, and he was fighting back tears. "I know it's bad, but you have to hold on just a bit longer."

"I don't… I can't..."

"Yes, you can. Don't you give up, not now."

Caitlin bit her lip, unable to bear the anguish in Sam's eyes and the desperation in his tone. He covered the hand fisted in his shirt with his own, pulling until Dean let go of the fabric, and then linked their fingers, gripping tightly.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean whispered.

"What for?"

"Promised I'd keep you safe, but I can't… Go to Bobby, tell him everything… He'll help…"

"Dean, no. I'm not letting you go."

"No… choice, Sam."

"Yes, there's a choice," Sam said fiercely. "You choose to fight!"

"Promise me," Dean whispered.

"I'm not promising anything, you selfish son of a bitch."

"Sam!" Shocked at the sudden harsh words, Caitlin began to protest, but Sam shot her a fierce, angry look, and she snapped her mouth shut.

Dean turned his head away, but Sam gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at his brother. "I don't need Bobby. I need my big brother. I can't do this without you, and I don't want to. I'm not gonna lose you, so don't even think about giving up. You're a stubborn, arrogant ass over everything else in your life, so you're damned well going to be one over this too. So you shout, scream, and tear this place apart if you have to, but you hold on. You hold on for me."

There was a long silence. Caitlin looked on, feeling like an intruder as a form of silent communication passed between the brothers. Then Dean breathed, "Snarky little bitch." Amazingly, his lips quirked in a half-smile, and Sam relaxed immediately.

"Stubborn jerk," Sam said softly, tears in his eyes. His grip loosened a little, and Dean settled back against his chest, eyes drifting shut.

Caitlin didn't have a chance to question Sam about his harsh words because shortly after that, Dean's fever rose alarmingly and he slipped into a state of delirium. Sam carefully maneuvered out from behind him, lay him back down and resumed his previous position perched on the edge of the bed.

For the next couple of hours, Dean tossed and turned, plagued by what were clearly nightmares rather than dreams. His fevered ramblings made no sense to Caitlin, but Sam seemed to understand and kept up a constant stream of reassurance. From time to time, he'd lay still, and those times were the most frightening of all.

During one of the quiet times, Caitlin looked pointedly across at Sam and asked, "What was all that about? What you said before?"

As Sam looked up, she noted the exhausted droop to his shoulders and his bloodshot eyes. He needed to get some rest, but she knew better than to suggest it.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Before when?"

"When you told your brother he was a selfish son of a bitch. Bit harsh under the circumstances, don't you think?"

"Oh, that." Sam blew out a long breath. "You need to understand something about Dean. He'll fight for me. He'll fight for anyone, for that matter. But he won't do it for himself. He just… he seems to have the idea that his life isn't worth much. And right now… he's not in a good place. He blames himself for Dad's death. Thinks he should have died instead."

"Why would he think that?"

Sam seemed to hesitate.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "You don't have to tell me."

Sam sighed. "It's complicated. Dad died to save his life. Dean was dying, and if Dad hadn't… Dean would be dead right now. And he can't handle that. Doesn't think he was worth the sacrifice."

Clearly, there was more to the story, and Caitlin desperately wanted to know how the Winchesters had ended up in that position, but she wasn't going to push. "It must have been hard on you too, losing your dad," she said, instead.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, it was hard. Me and Dad – we'd never been close, used to fight all the time. I loved him, though. But… losing Dean?" He looked away, but not before she saw his jaw tremble. "It's just not an option, Caitlin."

He suddenly stood up, walked to the side of the room and slammed his fist into the wall.

"It should have been me! The parnock attacked me. But Dean deliberately got in the way, and it took him down instead. Stupid, overprotective jerk! He doesn't deserve this, Caitlin, he shouldn't be…" His voice broke. All at once, the aggression seeped out of him and he slumped, arms braced against the wall, head resting on his hands, anguish radiating from him like a fever.

After a moment's hesitation, Caitlin walked across to him and put a hand on his arm.

He looked up. "I can't lose him, Caitlin."

"You won't lose him," she said firmly. She felt like crying herself, but she had to stay strong, for Sam – and for Dean. "He's a stubborn, arrogant ass, right? And he promised you that he wouldn't give up. And I get the feeling that he's not a man to break a promise. So don't you dare give up on him."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, then drew himself up, scrubbing a hand across his face. He gave her a half-smile. "I'm glad you stayed, Caitlin."

"So am I," she said honestly.

Sam sat down again, grasping Dean's hand. Dean muttered something incoherent and then settled again.

Wanting to distract Sam, Caitlin asked, "How did you guys get into hunting?"

"Dad. He was a hunter. I've never known anything else. Our childhood was more like a boot camp than a life. We were always training, preparing, and learning the job. The family business." He gave a small, bitter laugh. "Dean loved it – he was Dad's good little soldier, never questioned anything, obeyed all Dad's stupid rules. Me - I guess I rebelled. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life on the road, hunting evil. So… I left."

"Where did you go?"

"College. I was planning to study law. Then… well, some things happened and… here I am."

Caitlin sensed massive gaps in the story. Reading between the lines, it sounded to her like a terrible way to spend your childhood and left her wondering why a man would choose that life for his kids. But she didn't push. Sam barely knew her, after all, and she knew how guarded hunters were with strangers.

"Tell me about Dean," she said instead, trying to sound nonchalant. The question was partly for Sam's sake, to keep him distracted, but she couldn't deny her eagerness to find out more about his brother.

Sam blew out a breath and looked down at Dean. He smiled. "Dean. Where do I start? He's stubborn, single-minded, has terrible taste in music, eats junk food by choice, and you don't want to know about his relationship with his car."

Caitlin laughed. "It's a cool car."

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to make him choose between me and the Impala."

"You two – you're really close."

Sam nodded. "We're all we have left. And Dean – he sees looking out for me as his job, you know? Our mom died - in a fire - when I was a baby. Dean was four. He carried me out of that burning house, and he's been looking out for me ever since."

Caitlin glanced at Dean, imagining a small, frightened boy bravely fighting his way through the flames, clutching his precious burden with all his might. What a terrible experience for a child to go through. And as she looked back at Sam, she couldn't help but hurt for him, too. Both parents dead, and now he might lose his brother, as well?

"I'm sorry about your mom," she said sincerely.

Sam sighed. "I never really knew her, but it's different for Dean. He's never got over it."

Dean shifted restlessly, and Sam immediately turned his attention back to his brother. Dean grew more and more agitated, muttering something about Sam keeping away … danger … Gordon. Sam scooted in close, sitting down on the edge of the bed and grasping his brother's shoulder. "It's okay, I'm fine, Dean. Gordon's gone, remember? I'm safe, he can't hurt me."

Caitlin marveled at the way Sam's touch and voice calmed Dean almost immediately. She watched as Sam continued to talk in a soft voice, wondering who Gordon was and why he'd want to hurt Sam.

After a little while, Dean lay quiet once more and Sam sank back down onto the chair. Caitlin got them both a cup of coffee and they settled back in to continue their vigil.

"So," she said after a moment, "you were telling me about Dean."

Sam took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah. Well, when mom died, that was when Dad started hunting. When we were kids, he was away a lot, so Dean was always stuck looking after me. He practically raised me." His eyes drifted back to Dean as he continued speaking, voice soft. "My first memories are of Dean, not Dad. He did his best to make my childhood as normal as it could be. He's always been there for me. Always. Yeah, we argue – what brothers don't – but bottom line, he's never let me down. Ever."

Caitlin looked at Dean again with a newfound appreciation as well as a pang for the responsibility placed on his shoulders at such a young age. What had his own childhood been like, if his main focus had been looking after his little brother? "Pretty cool big brother, huh?"

Sam looked back at her. "Yeah. But the thing is, with Dean… it's never about him. It's always about me, Dad – people who need saving. He never seems to want anything for himself. He gave up everything to stay with Dad, to hunt, to look after me."

Caitlin cocked her head, considering his words. "But you said he loves it, right? Hunting?"

Sam nodded. "He does. At least, that's what I've always thought. It's not like he's ever had a choice – he's never given himself a choice. But sometimes… sometimes I wonder if maybe deep down he wants what everyone wants, you know? A family, kids." His voice caught. "He''d make an awesome dad."

Caitlin smiled; there was something endearing about that thought. Then she raised an eyebrow at Sam. "What about you? Do you want all those things?"

Sam shrugged. "I used to. Now? I'm not so sure anymore."

He seemed uncomfortable with the subject, so Caitlin didn't pursue it.

They sat quietly for a while, watching Dean toss and turn in fretful slumber. Then Sam took up the conversation again.

"Dean's a great hunter, and he's smart, too, though he likes to pretend he isn't. He has this macho, tough-guy image, but sometimes, when the act slips…" His voice caught. "He's a good man, Caitlin. He doesn't deserve to die."

The pain in those heartfelt words touched Caitlin. Unable to find any words she felt would lend comfort, she walked around the bed, sat down beside him and squeezed his shoulder in silent support. He responded with a wan half-smile.

After a few moments of quiet, Caitlin stood up, needing to stretch cramped limbs. The room seemed lighter than before, and she went to the window and pulled back the curtain a little. She was surprised to see the sun creeping above the skyline. She glanced at her watch. 8 a.m. How had that happened? She had thought at one point that the long night would never end.

Closing the curtain, she turned around. "Sam, it's 8 a.m. I think I should go and get us something to eat."

"Not for me, thanks."

Caitlin frowned. "I'm not hungry either, but we both need to eat."

Sam shrugged. "Whatever."

Caitlin slipped out and walked along to the gas station a few hundred yards further down the road. It was a promising start to the day, the cloudless blue sky and the warmth of the early sun on her shoulders signaling hot weather ahead.

The shop attached to the gas station was small but crammed with an eclectic collection of stock. She quickly picked up some coffee and chose a bag of assorted donuts.

"There you go, honey," the middle-aged woman behind the counter said with a friendly smile as she handed over her cash. "I hope you have something special planned. The forecast's for a perfect day."

A perfect day. It hardly felt perfect, not when there was a chance a good man might die. Despite the heat a shiver ran through Caitlin, and she mustered a weak smile and mumbled thanks before stumbling out of the shop.

She let herself back into the hotel room, seemingly even darker now after the brightness outside. After putting some coffee on, she sat down beside Sam, silently opening the bag and offering it to him. He hesitated, then stuck his hand in and chose a donut at random.

Caitlin fished one out for herself and took a small bite. The sweetness stuck in her throat, but she forced herself to finish it, and glared at Sam until he did too.

The day wore on.