Hey guys, since I left you so long for the last update, I thought you guys deserved a quick update. So here we are! This chapter doesn't have a ton of action, but it had to be done and I hope you enjoy it just the same.

I plan on this being 5 chapters and an epilouge, though epilouge or no epilouge is up to you, so review!

Disclaimer: Nope *sniffles* but a girl can hope can't she?

Thanks to my beta Little Miss Artist though I did some tweaking so all mistakes are my own. If you see anything glaringly obvious let me know and I'll change it.

WHERE WE LEFT OFF:

Everything after that was somewhat blurry to Dean. He remembered seeing Sam being placed on a gurney and lifted into the ambulance. He vaguely recalled climbing in after him, sitting down and grabbing Sam's pale hand. The same sentence ran unendingly through his head:

Hold on, Sammy.

NOW:

Laugh, I Nearly Died (Note: this song by the Rolling Stones was used at the end of season 1 episode 5 – Bloody Mary at the end when they are driving away)

Dean paced around the waiting room like an angry tiger, shooting glares at anyone who made any annoyed sighs when he walked by them for the millionth time. The waiting room was a square room that had chairs lining all three walls as well as two rows of chairs in the middle placed back to back so they were facing the chairs on the edge. Only about a quarter of these chairs were currently occupied and their occupants weren't happy that Dean was continually pacing around the oval the chairs created in the middle.

John, who was sitting in one of the chairs along the back wall facing the hallway and, across the hallway, the nurses' station, had also just about had it with Dean's pacing. So when Dean came by for the millionth time, John cracked and snarled, "Sit your ass down right now or so help me…"

Dean obediently sat down, though he didn't look pleased about it. They sat in silence for another thirty minutes before Dean lost it and shouted, "What the hell is taking them so damn long?"

"Dean! Keep your voice down!" John whispered angrily as annoyed occupants shoot them exasperated looks.

A male doctor of about forty walked in. He wore a grim and sympathetic look and Dean felt his heart freeze. Oh god, no! Sam was fine! He was fine! He was completely healthy yesterday – how could things go so wrong so fast? The doctor looked down at the chart in his hand hesitantly, as though preparing himself to deliver the awful news.

"Family of Carrie Winters?" Dean almost passed out from relief. It wasn't Sam, it wasn't Sam. Sam is fine – well he's at least alive Dean did feel slightly sad for the older couple who was weeping for Carrie Winters, whom Dean perceived to be there daughter, but the savage, protect-Sam-at-all-cost big-brotherly part of him felt selfishly glad that the terrible news wasn't about Sam. He glanced over at his dad who had the same look of relief and guilt plastered on his face telling Dean he was thinking exactly the same thing.

Not five minutes later a much younger, female doctor walked in. She had a good figure and her light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. But what really caught Dean's attention were her eyes. They did not have the sadness that the other doctor's did. Her eyes were happy and man oh man were they pretty! Dean had to remind himself that she was probably twenty-five or so which made her too old for Dean. Besides, he couldn't think much about that when Sam could be hanging between life and death.

"Family of Sam Mckenzie?" Dean got to his feet beside his father and they both made their way over to her.

"How is my son?"

"I take it your Sam's father then," she said pleasantly, "and you are?"

"Dean. Sam's brother." Dean said shortly, wanting to know more about Sam.

"I'm Dr. Winters," she extended her hand to them each in turn, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"My brother being taken to the hospital in an ambulance after passing out then waiting THREE HOURS for news on him isn't exactly what I call a pleasure," Dean said coldly.

Her eyes registered slight surprise as she stammered, "no, that's not what I meant, I was merely…"

"How is my son?" John asked again, effectively cutting her off. He did feel sympathetic for her. Dean had an awful temper when something was wrong with his brother and the woman was taking the heat for it. That didn't mean, however, that John was any less eager to find out what was wrong with Sam.

"Why don't you follow me to a private room so we can have more privacy," she said, which only made Dean and John worry that much more. They anxiously followed her to a small room with a table that had one chair on one side and two on the other.

"Have a seat," she said gesturing to the two chairs.

"What is wrong with my brother?" Dean demanded. He was getting more and more afraid by the minute and afraid was not something Dean handled well. A troubled look crossed her face and she glanced down at the files.

"When Sam went to the clinic recently, were you-"

"Wait, what?" John this time.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, honestly confused.

"Sam hasn't been to any clinic lately, you must have the wrong files," John said.

"There is only one file for Sam Mckenzie, you may not be aware of this, Mr. Mckenzie, but all medical facilities in the county have linked data bases, so medical files can be reached from anywhere for emergencies or situations like this. Sam's weight and height match those of the file, so it's most definitely the same file. Now as I was saying-"

"But Sam didn't go to a clinic," John growled, now getting frustrated, "there's obviously been some mistake-"

"Wait," Dean said, effectively stopping John in the middle of his sentence, "what was the date of Sam's visit?"

"May twenty-seventh?" The woman said, clearly not understanding the connection. John clearly got Dean's point however, and he quickly turned back to Dr. Winters. "So what does the clinic have to do with anything?" John asked.

"I'm sorry, but what did the date have to do with anything?" She asked, clearly confused and desperately trying to keep up.

"We were out of town for the day, so Sam was home alone for the day," John said, his voice saying clearly to move on.

"Um, okay, well, I was under the impression you were aware of Sam's visit and it's results, however now I'm going to assume you had no knowledge of the visit?" Both men shook their heads. "Okay, well Sam was diagnosed with Lyme Disease and was given a prescription for doxycycline, but-"

"Sam has Lyme disease?" Dean asked. He glanced over at his dad who had the same look on his face confirmed he didn't know what that was either. "What's that?"

"Lyme disease, that's lyme like l-y-m-e not l-i-m-e, is an infectious disease caused by various bacteria belonging to the genus Borrelia. Lyme disease can have a variety of symptoms and can affect multiple body systems, making it hard to diagnose. However the giveaway for Lyme disease is a bulls-eye shaped rash, which occurs in about 80% of patients."

"How do you get it?" Dean asked, wanting to know everything about the disease his brother now had.

"Deer ticks. When they bite you they transmit the bacteria from them to you, which is what causes the rash. Has Sam been in the woods recently? Maybe 3 or 4 weeks ago?"

Dean and John shared a knowing glance as they realized. The werewolf hunt. Dean instantly felt guilty. That was weeks ago - weeks ago! Sam had been sick for weeks and he hadn't caught it. Now that he was thinking about it he did recall Sam seeming sick. He mentioned a head-ache and definitely seemed sleepy.

"So what is the prognosis?

"For cases of Lyme disease caught at early stages, a simpler antibiotic like doxycycline, is usually quite curative. In later diagnosis, the severity and treatment of it can become more complicated-"

"But you said it was caught when Sam went to the clinic?" Dean asked, getting more and more confused about why his brother was still sick.

"Yes, it was, and Sam was given a prescription for doxycycline for 15 days, which was filled-"

"Then why is Sam still sick?" Dean demanded. John stayed silent, just soaking all the information in.

"That's what we're not sure about. Since the prescription was filled, we're assuming that Sam did in fact take the medication, but we can't be positive. Right now, we're waiting for Sam to wake up to ask him, but we were also hoping you might be able to tell us…"

They both shook their heads. They didn't even know Sam was sick let alone if he was taking his meds.

"Wait!" Dean said suddenly, causing Dr. Winters and John to look at him in surprise. "When we got back, Sam had a bag, when I asked him what was in it, he avoided the question. If he didn't take them, they might still be hidden in his room or something," Dean said hopefully. Yes, it was a long shot. It was far more likely Sam had just thrown the meds out, but still.

"Okay, please find out as soon as you can. Until we know for sure, we can't properly treat him-"

"Aren't there drug tests you can do?" John demanded, cutting her off.

"Yes, however, Sam only had a prescription for fifteen days, which ended about five or six days ago, so they probably wouldn't still be in his system. The problem is you treat late stages of Lyme disease different than early stages. So if he never took the meds at all we would give him ceftriaxone for about three or four weeks. But if he did take the medication and they didn't work, then it's doubtful that ceftriaxone would work, so we would have to figure something else out."

Dean opened his mouth to ask something, but a knock on the door stopped them. They all looked up as the door opened revealing a young nurse with bushy red hair.

"Yes, Sarah?" Dr. Winters asked, not happy about the interruption.

"He's awake."

TBC…

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