Hi! So I had internet issues all day yesterday which didn't let me get this posted. Today has been sketchy too, so I'm hoping this works! :)

Thank you to C1, Taraneh and Tricia for the nice guest reviews to ch 6!

Hope you all enjoy!


1000 PM Christmas Eve
Motel

Tommy knocked on the motel room door and waited for Arla to unlock it for him. He frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the empty parking lot. The entire area seemed deserted and he'd seen no sign of the woman who had flagged them down on the side of the highway. Despite the fact that everything was quiet, there was no denying the tickle of wrongness he felt in his gut. Something was not right. Looking back at the room, he saw movement through the thin curtain over the window, then the door was cautiously opened. Arla's expression was relieved when she saw him.

"Did you find Raquel?" Arla whispered, looking behind him as he stepped into the room.

"No sign of her." Tommy closed the door and locked it. He glanced over at the bed, "They asleep?"

"For now." Arla sighed, rubbing her neck and looking back up at him, "Did you go back to the highway..."

"Yes. I looked everywhere between here and the road. And all the other motel rooms. Nothing. No sign of her." Tommy shrugged, "Something doesn't seem right about this."

Arla frowned and said, "It's all very strange."

Tommy watched as she crossed the room back to her patients. He'd watched her take care of hundreds of people over the years. Sick, injured, young, old. And she always did it without question or prejudice. Always with a gentle hand and sweet spirit. He still counted himself tremendously blessed to have met and married her. She was a good balance to his natural born suspicious mind. Speaking of which, Tommy shook his head and tried to set aside his concern over the missing woman and the strange circumstances. Arla had the cooler of melting ice and water sitting next to her and was replacing the washcloths that she'd placed against the fevered kid's forehead and neck.

"How're they doing?" Tommy asked softly, standing at the foot of the bed. They looked pretty awful to him, but he wasn't the doctor.

Arla checked the kid's temperature, then rose. She joined him and glanced at the thermometer. Shaking her head, she looked up at him and whispered, "I've got them stabilized. For now. Sam's fever is still hovering right at 104 and he's not resting well. His brother's breathing is better since I gave him a neb treatment and he's sleeping at least."

"What are you thinking?"

"That they need more treatment than I can give them here." Arla said, "The fluids and oxygen are helping, but they need antibiotics. I think they've both got pneumonia."

Tommy grimaced. He'd suffered through that a few years ago himself. He asked, "Should I go and try to make a call? Get an ambulance now that they're stabilized?"

"Either that or we just take them into town ourselves. That would be quicker." Arla said, then touched his elbow and drew him across the room. She waved her hand around and stared at him with those empathetic eyes of hers. She said, "Tommy, look around."

"It's a mess." He acknowledged, "Looks like my dorm room back in college."

Arla rolled her eyes, and her smile faded quickly as she whispered, "There is one can of soup, a box of crackers and a lot of empty fast food packages. No other food. Dirty laundry and some medicine. Nothing else. I'm willing to bet they don't have any money either."

"And?" He prompted.

"And how are they going to pay a hospital bill?"

"That's not exactly our problem." He shook his head, "If they need a hospital, then we need to get them there."

Arla nodded, "I agree. I just think maybe we should keep our options open. I can call in some prescriptions and maybe save them a few dollars they don't seem to have..."

Tommy didn't even have to ask what she was thinking. Because after forty-three years of marriage, he knew. He said, "Arla, we have no idea who they are or what is going on. There are a lot of weapons in this room. From a purely suspicious retired police officer's perspective, there is something very strange about all of this."

Arla squeezed his arm and said, "From a suspicious retired police officer's wife's perspective, I completely agree."

"But from a retired doctor and never retired mother's perspective," Tommy smiled knowingly, "you want to have the whole story before you make any decisions. And you want to take them home."

Arla sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, "Tomorrow is Christmas, Tommy. They don't have any money or any place to go."

"How do you know that?" He rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her.

"Why would they be staying in an abandoned motel on Christmas Eve if they had somewhere to go? In an abandoned motel, with no food," Arla frowned, "and so sick that they couldn't even get off the floor to get into bed?" She pointed at Sam and added, "He was holding his brother up so he could breathe, Tommy. What do you think they were going to do if we hadn't come when we did?"

"Alright, alright, I hear you." Tommy nodded, "But I want some answers before we even think about inviting them over for Christmas dinner, Arla."

"Honey," Arla hurried back toward the bed as Sam started fumbling with his mask. "I don't think they're going to feel up to eating Christmas dinner."

Tommy sighed and said, "I still want answers."

"I know. And I agree." Arla helped Sam roll to his side, holding a basin for him as he started throwing up. She looked back over at Tommy and said, "As soon as they can make it ten minutes without acute shortness of breath or vomiting, you can interrogate them, dear."

Tommy grimaced as the kid hurled his guts up. From the looks of it, it might be awhile before he got to interrogate them.


1000 PM Christmas Eve
Five miles north of motel

"You have to help me, Mallory." Raquel begged, "I'll do anything, anything, but you have to help me keep Gethen away."

Mallory shook her head, long straight hair swinging over her shoulders. She looked understanding but helpless. Her voice low, Mallory asked, "What do you expect me to do? You think I have some kind of control over him?"

Raquel lowered her head to her hands and said, "No. None of us do."

"That's right." Mallory shrugged, "So you might as well chill out, sweetie. Because Gethen is going to come and take whatever he wants. Just like he always does."

"I can't let him."

Mallory shook her head, hand on her hip. She sighed and said, "Look, Raquel, I know you're new at this. I know this is the first time for you and that, well, that you're still adjusting to everything." Her smile was understanding, "It took me a long time too. But I'm going to save you a little heartache and frustration. And a whole lot of pain. No one likes it, but we have no choice. You need to give Gethen what he wants and he'll leave you alone."

"I don't want to be left alone. I want to be free." Raquel whispered, shivering in the breeze. "I just can't...I can't let this happen. Those are innocent people back at that motel, Mallory."

"Yeah and we were innocent people once, too." Mallory raised an eyebrow. "And now we're not."

Raquel looked at the other woman and saw both understanding and defeat in her eyes. Mallory had been working for Gethen for a very long time. She touched Raquel's arm and said, "I know what you're thinking, sweetie. I do. I see the hope; the rebellion in your bright little eyes. I had that in my eyes for awhile too. But it died. Like everything dies."

"I can't just give up." Raquel whispered.

"Yes you can." Mallory shook her shoulders, expression dead serious, "And you will. Because if you try this, if you try anything crazy, he is going to..."

"What?" Raquel laughed bitterly, "What's he going to do to me? Kill me?"

"He won't kill you, Raquel." Mallory said solemnly, "He will hurt you. In ways you can't even imagine."

Raquel turned away and crossed her arms across her chest, staring into the distance. She knew Mallory was right. But she couldn't let four innocent people die because she wasn't brave enough to stand up to Gethen. She knew she couldn't hope that Mallory would help her. She might even have just given Mallory reason to betray her to Gethen when he arrived, but it was too late to change anything.

"Raquel?"

"What?" She turned around to look back at Mallory.

Mallory stared at her, shoulders slumped. After a long moment, she said, "Look. I can't...I just can't help you. I tried to help someone before and...it was bad. For him and for me. But what I will do is let you know as soon as he arrives. That will give you a little time. So what you need to do right now is go back to that motel and get those people out of there before Gethen finds out about them. That's the best you can do, best you can hope for right now."

Raquel knew Mallory was taking a huge chance just by offering to give her the heads up. She smiled and nodded. Reaching out a hand, she squeezed Mallory's hand and said, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." Mallory said, but smiled briefly. "Just go save those people, Raquel."

Raquel turned around and started running.


1015 PM Christmas Eve
Motel

Dean woke from a deep but restless sleep and immediately felt the horrible tightness in his chest, the raw burning in his throat and the uncomfortable warmth of fever. His mind was slow and groggy, but it didn't take long for him to remember where he was and why he felt like hammered crap. And, more importantly, to remember why he'd been pulled from sleep.

Sam was calling out for Jessica again.

Blinking in the dim light of the motel room, he saw an older man sitting at the table, staring out the window. Couldn't remember his name, but vaguely remembered seeing his face earlier. The guy had a bushy white mustache and hair that was grey-white and wispy. Looked a little like Einstein, Dean mused, turning to look to his left. He saw the doctor, Arla, sitting next to Sam. Her forehead was wrinkled in worry as she stared down at him, adjusting the washcloth on his forehead as he moved restlessly in the throes of his nightmare.

Sam's mumbles were muffled by the oxygen mask that he was currently trying to pull off. His eyes were wide open as he stared up at the ceiling. Dean cursed, knowing exactly what Sam thought he was seeing up there. Arla was speaking softly, trying to calm him, but she wasn't getting anywhere. Dean reached out with his left hand and grabbed Sam's shoulder, giving him a shake. He pulled off his own oxygen mask, realizing as soon as he did exactly how much the oxygen was actually helping his miserable breathing. But he could manage for a few minutes.

"Sam." He called out, voice barely audible. Coughing and then clearing his throat, he raised his voice enough that when he called Sam's name again, his brother instantly turned and looked up at him.

But they weren't out of the woods yet. Dean may have caught his attention, but Sam's horrified eyes turned back to the ceiling as he started fighting to sit up and get the mask off again. Arla was gently pushing him down, and Dean put a hand out toward her.

He said more sharply than he intended, "Leave him alone."

Arla backed off, questioning eyes meeting his. At the moment, he wasn't interested in her professional opinion. He was more interested in waking his brother up all the way. Dean pulled the mask off Sam's face and turned his head away from the ceiling. Sam was reaching up, trying to fight Dean's hands off. From his position sitting up against the pillows, Dean found it difficult to keep his balance and hold onto him. Didn't help that he was short of breath and coughing.

"Dean," Arla's voice was gentle, "it's the fever. He's been in and out and..."

"It's a nightmare." Dean shook his head, slapping Sam's cheek. "Come on, Sam, wake up." He was too weak to yank his brother upright, and Sam's breathing sounded worse than his did at the moment. Dean looked up at Arla, "Help him sit up, please..."

Tommy appeared at her side and together they managed to get Sam upright against the headboard. He fought them every step of the way, shouting Jessica's name. Once he was sitting up, Dean leaned closer and said, "Sam, calm down."

"No! Dean, she's burning...the fire..." Sam's breathless voice was panicked as he reached out a shaking hand to grab at Dean's arm; still staring up at the ceiling. "Please, Dean, help her…"

"It's over, Sam. It's just a nightmare." Dean shook his head, repeating words he'd said so many times lately. Dean could tell Sam was awake, just not completely alert yet. His gasping breaths were starting to scare Dean. He put his hand against Sam's chest and said, "You gotta calm down and take some slow breaths. You with me?"

Sam stared at him and his breathing began to slow under Dean's hand. Dean nodded and ran a hand over his face, glad the crisis was past. After a minute, Sam leaned his head back against the wall. Dean sighed and patted Sam's shoulder, then put his hand against Sam's forehead. Sam squeezed his eyes closed and Dean studied him closely. The circles under his eyes looked black even against the flush of his face.

Dean looked at Arla and said, "He's still burning up."

"You're both running a fever." Arla said, pulling a washcloth from the water in her cooler. She squeezed it out and offered it to him, "I've been using what's left of our ice and his fever has come down a degree; which isn't much I grant you, but it's something. Yours is lower than it was earlier too, but not gone yet."

Dean pressed the washcloth to Sam's face and nodded. After a few seconds though, he had to lower his hand as he turned away, coughing so hard he thought his head was going to explode. Something was pressed into his hand and glanced down, grateful for the tissue. He spit a mouthful of gunk into the tissue, stomach turning at the sensation. Balling up the tissue, he heard Sam groan.

"Sam?" He asked hoarsely, watching as his brother swallowed hard, eyes still closed.

Dean had a bad feeling and was grateful to see Arla was one step ahead of him and already reaching for a plastic basin of some sort. She got it in front of Sam just in time. Cursing under his breath, Dean put his left arm around Sam's shoulders as he hunched forward, vomiting into the basin. There wasn't much in life he hated more than listening to Sam in pain and he was moaning right now like everything hurt. Which, Dean decided, given the beating he'd taken from the poltergeists and the ache of the fever, wasn't surprising.

Sam spat another mouthful into the basin that Arla was holding, his head hanging low as he fought to catch his breath. Dean held onto him so he didn't fall forward, then leaned closer when he heard Sam mumble something. Dean asked, "What?"

"Don't feel good." Sam whispered, wiping his mouth with the back of a shaking hand.

"I know, Sammy." Dean shook his head as Sam coughed, then threw up again.

Dean glanced over at Arla and saw compassion and concern in her blue eyes. She was holding the basin and brushing Sam's sweaty hair out of his face as he retched. Dean's jaw tightened, remembering his mom doing the same thing for him when he'd been sick as a kid. Then he felt even worse realizing that Sam had no idea what it was like to have a mom take care of him when he was sick. He'd only ever had Dean or Dad and Dean started to realize exactly how much Sam had missed growing up.

He tightened his grip around Sam's shoulders and looked at Arla. He asked, "Isn't there something you can do for him?"

"I don't have any medicine with me." Arla shook her head and said, "We really need to get you both out of here so I can get the medications you need."

Dean felt trapped and desperate. If they wound up in a hospital they were going to have to make a break for it once they were feeling better because they had no insurance and no money and no cover story. To make matters worse, the tickle in his throat turned into yet another coughing spree. By the time he caught his breath, Arla had handed the basin to Tommy and was helping Sam sit back against the headboard. She gave Dean another tissue and he spit into it again, disgusted at the nasty mess. Dragging in a wheezing breath, he glanced at Sam, then back at Arla.

Arla smiled and said, "It's ok, Dean. He's getting some fluids from the IV and even if it doesn't seem like much, it's helping rehydrate him."

"He's still throwing up." Dean muttered, coughing again.

"And you're still coughing." Arla said, raising an eyebrow. "Like I said, we need to get you out of here. I can prescribe the antibiotics you both need, something for your cough, and something to help Sam's nausea. Now that you're both more stable, I think we should consider leaving soon."

Dean saw Tommy walking toward him with their last bottle of Gatorade in his hand. The older man smiled and offered it to him. Dean nodded and took it, shocked at how badly his hand was shaking. He took a sip and felt some of the pain ease again. He was finding it hard to think and was afraid he was going to make a mistake. He knew nothing about these people, and as nice as they seemed, one wrong move could land him and Sam in a whole lot of trouble.

Arla's voice interrupted his thoughts, "You boys aren't going to get over this without antibiotics and a lot of rest. Even without a chest x-ray, I think I can be fairly confident in diagnosing you both with pneumonia."

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow, letting Tommy take the bottle back. "I mean, I'm not surprised about me, I guess. But Sam?"

"He may not be coughing or sound as bad as you," Arla said, "but you can see how short of breath he is and his breath sounds were diminished when I listened to his chest." She reached for the oxygen mask and said, "You both really need to try to get some more rest and keep these on."

"Ok." Dean said, but held up a finger as she motioned to Sam. He elbowed his brother and said, "The doc says the mask goes back on, Sam. Ok?"

Sam nodded and didn't fight when Arla slid the mask back in place then helped him lay back down against the pillow. He rubbed his eyes and dropped his hands to his chest. He looked up at Arla and whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, honey." Arla said, putting another cold washcloth on his forehead. "Just try to rest again, ok?"

He nodded, but turned to Dean and asked, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it morning yet?"

"Nope." Dean grinned, "But we're getting closer. Think we might actually make it."

Sam smiled briefly, then sighed and closed his eyes; pressing a hand against his head.

Looking up at Arla, Dean said, "It's been a really, really long day."

Arla said, "I believe it."

"How'd you end up here, anyway?" Dean asked, coughing into his sleeve and considering reaching for the oxygen mask again. "You guys lost or something?"

"Your friend flagged us down on the side of the highway." Tommy said, pulling a chair closer and handing the bottle of Gatorade back. "Raquel."

Accepting the bottle, Dean frowned, glancing between Arla and Tommy. He asked, "Who?"

"Raquel." Tommy said, sharp eyes narrowing, "You don't know her?"

"Never heard of her." Dean said, taking a sip.

"She said you were her friends and that you needed help." Tommy explained, exchanging a look with Arla. "That's part of why haven't left already. I was trying to find her while Arla got you two settled."

Dean let his head lean back against the pillows, feeling overwhelmingly tired. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep for a month. Glancing between Arla and Tommy he said softly, "I don't know who she was. She's not with us. It's just me and him."

"What are you doing here at this motel?" Tommy asked.

"Tommy!" Arla said, a note of warning in her voice.

Dean thought about the weapons they'd left out in the open. He could tell Tommy knew about them. He had a bad feeling the guy was a cop or something. There was that official air about him. Dean realized he needed to think of a really good cover story and think of it quickly. A knock at the door saved him from having to come up with a convincing lie. He joined Tommy and Arla staring at the door. Swallowing hard, Dean watched as Tommy rose and approached the door, a hand on the gun in his waistband.

His hand itched for his own gun as he glanced down at Sam.

They were so screwed.


Oh boy! This one had some twists in it. Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for taking the time to read! :)