Chapter 7

Bobby was pretty sure he'd heard someone hollering at Sam that something was wrong with his brother before he'd been totally cut off, the dead air coming from the other end of the line enough to make his skin crawl as the unfamiliar voice echoed in his head. He quickly redialed Sam's number and was not the least bit surprised that in went immediately into voicemail without ringing once. Attempting the call again, he received the same results and simply gave up on just calling. He could call from his truck a hundred times over as he made his way northeast because if his suspicions were correct, Dean didn't have a whole lot of time left and going on what he'd just heard, he didn't think the man would be of much help to him or Sam either. He could only pray Sam had heard all of what he had said before the call had been lost, because if he hadn't, it may be all over by the time he got there.

Initially, Sam's call had sent a wave or relief through him. Dean had called late the night before in another one of his rather pissy moods he always seemed to be in as of late to tell him that they weren't driving another mile through the snowy 'shit' they had found themselves in and were stopping for the night. He'd also told Bobby that they would head out first thing in the morning to meet up with him, which usually meant the crack of dawn by Winchester chronology. The town of Menomie, Wisconsin was only a three hour drive from Mason City, Iowa; probably only two for Dean; so when the boys hadn't shown up by noon, he had started to worry. He had called Dean over and over for the next two hours when he still hadn't heard from either one of them by one that afternoon but was met by nothing but voicemail each and every time. By the time he'd heard from Sam, it was nearly four and he was half out of his mind. The sound of Sam's voice had been a welcomed sound, until he heard the tone that accompanied it.

He remained calm and collected as Sam spoke but knew the second he heard the word 'weird' come from the younger brother that something was very wrong. Nothing much was 'weird' to a Winchester by now. He let the young man tell the entire story from start to finish and willingly volunteered his assistance before hanging up to make a few calls and preparing to head out, knowing full well he'd need to be in Menomie eventually.

Bobby Singer was no slave to technology which meant he usually gathered most of his information from dusty old books, parchments and scrolls, or simply at the good old library. After calling a few friends to check on a few things for him, he headed to the nearest public reading room to see what he could dig up on the establishment the Winchesters currently resided in. He'd been there for hours when the kindly librarian had tapped him on the shoulder to let him know it was closing time and he just sighed when he realized he still didn't really have any answers. Lots of suspicions, but no real answers yet.

What he'd found out about the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel' was nothing compared to what he had found out about the 'Whispering Pines Inn' and he was pretty confident he had discovered the source of all the boys problems, problems that all originated in room 8. Room 8 had been a plethora of unusual activity for years prior to the sale of the business to a young local couple that knew the history of the place but just didn't seem to care. They had agreed to never rent out room 8 to anyone and Bobby was having a hard time figuring out why the hell Sam and Dean were in that exact room right now.

He'd finally gotten the call he'd been waiting for some time after midnight and had been desperately trying to get in contact with Sam ever since, pretty sure he now knew exactly what was going on behind that evil containing door. Nearing two a.m. and hearing no word from Sam yet, he just decided to call the damn motel itself. He had no idea what name the boys were registered under, but he figured it wouldn't be very hard to describe he brothers. Hell, the car alone would do that trick. Ringing up the motel office and speaking to a very aloof sounding young man, he'd left his message for Sam, hoping that by telling the jackass on the other end it was urgent would get it delivered sooner rather than later.

He'd gotten Sam's call nearly an hour after leaving his message and by that time he was so anxious he didn't even look at the caller ID or ask who was on the other end when he answered, he just assumed it was Sam and started talking. With his worst fears confirmed as Sam answered his question, he'd started telling the younger brother the most important piece of all the information he had gathered, but it seemed he wouldn't get to finish it. As he replayed the call over and over in his head, he climbed into his fully loaded truck, turned the key to bring the engine to life and took off into the dark, praying that after all the young men that had died in that room, Dean wouldn't be added to the bottom of the list.

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Sam had not heard a word Bobby had said since he'd been thrust into sheer panic mode once his attention had been ripped away from the phone after that dreaded phrase had come so casually from Brian's mouth. He'd been pacing the parking lot in the frigid, pre-dawn air, trying to get some answers from the man on the other end of the line that would help him make heads or tails out of what was happening to his brother at the moment, but now that would just have to wait. Crisis management came first. Racing back into the room the second he had heard the annoying motel clerk say 'there's something wrong with your brother' had pretty much cleared his mind of everything Bobby had tried to relay, or had tried to start to relay before Sam cut him off; his concern for Dean and whatever was happening to him right now the only thing there was room for in his sleep deprived, beleaguered head. He knew that Bobby could obviously help him make some sense out of what was going on, but at this particular moment, he had bigger problems than trying to sort out the actual details as only god knew what was going on back inside that god forsaken room. That god forsaken room he knew he had to get his brother out of, and fast.

Sam hadn't witnessed what had prompted the outburst, but Brian had been watching in morbid, curious wonder as Dean's body started shivering and as he rolled over to face him, he couldn't help but notice the tiny trail of blood oozing from his mouth and down his all too pale chin as he shuddered slightly on the bed. Dean had slowly curled into a ball as he clutched his head in his hands and started softly moaning something that sounded like words but he just couldn't hear after turning to face the direction Sam had been in only moments before. Seeing that the man on the bed clearly needed some kind of help but having no intentions of going any further into the room to assist the man that was in obvious distress, he just called out to Sam instead. Brian just stood there in the doorway and continued to gawk as Sam shoved hard past him back inside and after taking one good look at Dean's deathly white pallor, he started racing around the room looking for only god knew what, then barked at him when he'd finally given up on his search for whatever it was he just couldn't seem to find.

"Where's the nearest hospital? I need to get my brother there now," he asked the dumbfounded kid standing in the doorway staring at the all too interesting scene before him like it was some kind of live horror show, the sharp tone of voice Sam projected with a panicked force finally bringing him out of his mesmerized state and snapping him into some attention.

"Dude, that was just a quickie dig out before the real plows come. The roads aren't really that drivable yet unless you've got a snowmobile. The winds just finally died down about ten minutes ago and this shit has been blowing everywhere like it's fresh snow for the last forty minutes before that. Hell, it's probably like the roads haven't even been plowed yet at all by now with the way this crap's been whipping around," Brian rambled from the doorway as Sam frantically tried wrapping Dean in the relatively clean comforter that was still draped neatly over the mattress underneath his trembling body now that the cover he had pulled off his own bed that he had laid over his sleeping brother earlier was resting in a pile on the floor and quite obviously stained with blood. Sam hadn't actually seen where the large droplets had come from, but the red coating on Dean's blue-tinged lips gave him a pretty good indication.

Sam had lost all patience with the idiotic attendant standing uselessly in the doorway taking up the precious air that, judging by the color of his lips, Dean so obviously needed desperately but wasn't getting enough of somehow and it took all the restraint he had in him to not grab one of the guns from his brother's duffel bag and just shoot him on the spot to put him out of his own misery. It took all his restraint and the hushed voice finally wafting from his brother's mouth to keep him from resorting to murder so he could just think straight for a minute.

"Sam…" It was nothing more than a whisper, but it was something he hadn't expected on hearing and right now Sam would gladly take it. At this point, Sam would take whatever he could get from Dean, except what he actually got. "Calm down Sammy…"

It wasn't the usual 'I'm fine' he was expecting that he got, but somehow it made him just as edgy when he heard it stated so nonchalantly, as if nothing innately insane was going on in the room at the very moment. "Calm down? You want me to calm down? Your lips look like you've been sucking on a bloody smurf and you want me to calm down. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm just tired, really tired…and my head hurts." Dean told his brother rather calmly himself as his eyes started to finally flutter open, not finding any reason whatsoever to panic.

"Yeah, I gathered that by the way you were squeezing it like it was ready to explode," Sam huffed back, trying hard to not sound so crazed now that Dean could actually see his face as he spoke, at least for his brother's sake he tried to sound sane. Dean quite obviously had no idea what was happening to him and that only seemed to scare Sam more.

"That was because that damn baby was crying again Sam, couldn't you hear it?"

"Dean, there was no baby crying…Jesus Christ, are you hallucinating?"

"I know what I heard Sam, I heard that friggin' kid wailing like someone was killing it," Dean informed his little brother matter-of-factly with a slight hint of irritation in his voice. The longer he held the conversation, the more alert and aware he seemed to become and for the moment Sam started to breathe a little easier, until he noticed his brother's lips still hadn't returned to their normally pink color from the blue hue they had taken on or the fact that his face still held no color at all. There was also the matter of the blood streak running from the corner of his mouth to his chin before turning down in the direction of his neck and out of sight. Taking all that into account, it didn't matter to Sam how coherent his brother seemed to be right now. Coherent or not, something was still seriously wrong.

"That's it Dean…we're going to the ER, shit roads or not."

"You heard surfer dude over there Sammy, the roads aren't drivable right now," Dean added to his growing list of intelligent thoughts as his eyes went wide from his brother's statement, but Sam didn't really care what his brother had to say now. The vague recollection of Bobby begging Sam to tell him that they weren't in the exact room they were currently in only prompted his need to get his brother out of here even more.

"Hey Brian," Sam called, knowing his curiosity couldn't keep him away. "How far is the nearest hospital?"

"About seven miles." He answered and as if he could read Sam's mind, proceeded to tell him exactly where it was. He wanted nothing more than both these men to be gone and he was beginning to regret he had even given them a room in the first place, either room. If his parents found out what was going on, they would probably kill him. "That's Rt. 29 right there where the diner is. Take that west until it turns into Stout Road. Hospital's on the left, you can't miss it."

"Can you walk to the car Dean, or do I need to carry you?" Sam asked with one brow cocked, the other one still frowning.

"I'm not going anywhere Sam," Dean insisted as he started to almost pout, but the look Sam had had in his eyes told a whole different story. He knew that determined look on Sam's face and in all honesty he didn't have the energy to fight him, especially when he knew he couldn't win.

"It's a simple question…walk or be carried? It's up to you."

"Gee Sammy, since you put it that way, I guess I'll walk, thanks." The angered look on his face was unmistakable but it was the only protest Dean could muster even though he knew the pathetic attempt would get him out of nothing. "Oh…and when we get there and they find out there's nothing wrong with me that a few painkillers and some sleeping pills won't fix, you're dead meat, little brother."

"Yeah, well at least you won't be dead meat too," Sam frowned as he searched the room for the keys to the Impala, frowning even deeper when he finally found them hiding innocently underneath Dean's jacket as if they didn't want them to be found at all.

Sliding on his own coat and stuffing the car keys into his pocket, Sam extended a hand to his ailing sibling to not only help him up off the bed without falling flat onto his face but to also tell him it was time to go, whether he liked it or not. The already deep frown Sam had perpetually plastered across his forehead for the last twenty four hours seemed to furrow all the way to China when he felt how cold and clammy Dean's hand was as he took it into his own. If it hadn't been for the trembling he felt in the limb as he held onto it, Sam would have sworn that by the color and feel of Dean's skin he was staring at a corpse.

With a monumental effort of his own and a lot of help from Sam, Dean found the strength to at least pick his head up off the pillow it rested heavily on, bring his back up off the bed and sit upright as casually as he possibly could, his motion giving off no hint of anything amiss other than the heavy sigh that filled the silence that had fallen in the room. Making no additional effort to rise any higher off the bed, Dean just sat there staring at his sock-clad feet for a moment before looking up into Sam's unwavering stare and stating the obvious. "Uh Sam…shoes?"

"You don't need them where we're going and the car's not far," Sam told his brother and it was painfully apparent to the younger Winchester that the older was just stalling. Noticing that Brian, who was still there standing in the doorway and staring, hadn't moved a muscle, Sam pulled the Impala's keys from his pocket and launched them hard in his direction. "Brian, make yourself useful and open the car doors for me, would you?"

Brian's reflexes weren't as quick as Sam's were but Sam's aim was extremely accurate and as the keys hit him hard in the chest and bounced off, Brian's fumbling hands caught them before they could hit the floor. He only nodded as he bolted from the room to do as Sam had asked. He'd do anything at this point to get them out of here faster, even though he was thoroughly enjoying the show they were putting on.

"Dean, there's something hinky going on in this room and the sooner we get out of it, the better," Sam whispered, only loud enough for Dean to hear now that Brian was most likely gone.

"Then why the hell do we need to go to the sick house? I'm sure we could hang out somewhere else besides there, like maybe a strip club. I saw one on the way here, we can…" Dean mumbled back.

"Because there's something wrong with you too," he flatly stated as he cut him off, trying to leave no room for argument, but then again, he was talking to Dean.

"Yeah, but if it's the room, then we just leave and everything's fine, right?"

"Yeah, well, better to be safe than sorry," Sam finally told him as he tightened his grip on Dean's hand, then grabbed him around the elbow with the other in an attempt to force him to stand. "Besides, we still need to come back and fix this problem after they check you out. Whatever's going on here needs to be stopped."

"Do you even know what's going on here Sam?"

"No, but I think Bobby does. He tried telling before…anyway, the sooner we get in the car, the sooner I can call him and find out. Now, are you going to get up on your own, or do I need to carry you? I'm not waiting all day."

Sam's tone was final and the firm grip he held on his hand and elbow as he now forcefully pulled him up off the bed made Dean just accept the inevitable and ride up to a standing position next to his brother. The movement had been slow and careful, but even as slow as it was; it somehow had been too quick for his body to adjust and Dean's vision instantly started swirling around him. Sam felt his brother's legs start to shake as he reached for a steadying shoulder to brace himself against and as he felt Dean start to sway, Sam released his grip on Dean's elbow and grabbed him around the waist to hold him up instead.

"Wanna dance," Dean smirked after a few very nervous moments after finally regaining his composure.

"Not with you. Looks like I'm carrying you after all," Sam shot back, clearly not amused.

"Like hell you are," Dean defiantly stated as he opened his eyes, grateful that everything around him was finally standing still now.

Sam released his grip around Dean's waist and grabbed the key to the room off the nightstand as Dean released his grip on Sam's shoulder but continued holding onto his hand as he placed one foot very slowly and cautiously in front of the other. Walking in the direction of the door that had been standing open for far too long, Dean couldn't help but shiver now that the room had become bone-chillingly cold. Step by step they advanced until they'd made it nearly to the door and Sam breathed a sigh of victory when he saw Brian standing guard at the car, it's sleek black now totally cleared of the snow piled atop it and both doors open wide.

"I'm cold Sam," Dean blurted out as his body started trembling even harder now that he had passed through the door and into the cold, early morning air outside.

"I know, but the car's right there and I promise I'll crank the heat," Sam tried telling him even though it was becoming more and more apparent that each step they made that took them closer to the car and farther from the door was getting harder and harder for Dean to take.

The first step out through the door had blasted Dean's frame with an almost unbearable cold that spread through every part of his body. His grip on Sam's hand tightened just a little when it struck him, but he took another step in the direction of his welcoming baby sitting there in the pure white before him.

The second step he took caused a heavy sheen of sweat to break out on his brow first, then his hands, until he felt it break out against the back of his neck which only seemed to chill his already frigid body even more when the cold air breezed by. He tried ignoring that sensation and took another short step towards the only place he really considered home, but this time he just stopped dead and stared out into the dark now that the all too familiar flutter he had felt the first time he tried making a break for the car returned.

Deciding to press his luck a little, either out of stupidity or sheer defiance, he took two larger, quicker steps ahead until he was midway between the car in front of him and the door behind him. By the time he put his foot down after the second step, he knew he couldn't go any further. That queasy fluttering had turned into something akin to flesh-tearing cramps that radiated throughout his entire abdominal area accompanied by the low buzz that was echoing through his head that seemed to get louder and louder with each passing second. Even with Dean's sweat soaked hand still clutched firmly in his own, Sam could do nothing to stop the drop he made to his knees as his legs went limp underneath him and he crashed hard to the ground below.

"Shit," Sam screamed, feeling the impending fall but being able to do nothing about it and just watched as his brother curled back up into that ball he'd found himself in the last time he came outside, but blessedly without the agonizing screams. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Back inside Sam…go back inside…" Dean tried spitting out through pained breaths as Sam reached for him with both hands to lift him up off the cold, hard ground before realizing he had something clutched in his own hand that was stopping him from grabbing onto his brother.

"Hold this while I pick you up," Sam ordered Dean, even though he was pretty sure his brother had stopped listening to anything he had to say and shoved the room key hard into the palm of Dean's free hand before closing his fingers tightly around it.

Dean felt the cold, sharp little object resting in his hand and when he heard his brother's frantic voice telling him to hold onto it, he squeezed it even tighter in his fist. Gradually, the infernal buzzing tearing its way through his brain started to quiet as the gut-wrenching cramps began to subside enough for him to scramble up somewhat and get his feet back under himself. With a few kicks, he was able to shove his body backwards and through the door in an odd sort of butt-crawl with barely any help from Sam at all, stopping only when his back was resting against the bed inside. Totally drained from the entire ordeal, Dean could do nothing more than rest his head against the soft mattress behind him and close his eyes and for some reason, the hospital didn't sound like such a bad place anymore.