Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after They're Here (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Thank you again to Faye Dartmouth for the beta on this fic.

I'd also like to thank everyone who has read, and particularly reviewed, this fic. A special thanks to the reviewers I can't contact directly -- Freefall, Fendy, and coldsunshin -- for their support.

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Chapter 7

Dean rolled up in front of Bobby's house and put his head down on the steering wheel. He was trying to gather himself for the upcoming battle. Once Sam was set against something he dug both heels in and wouldn't give. As tired as Dean was himself he knew he needed to get Sam help right away.

"Screw it, Sam. You need help," Dean said as he got out of the Impala. As far as pep talks go it was pretty lame but the longer he stalled the harder it was going to be to confront his brother. He just knew Sam was going to turn those Bambi eyes of his on Dean and he couldn't afford to crumble.

Dean was so ready for a fight that the utter quietness of the house surprised him.

"Bobby?" Dean called. He turned his head and saw Sam bundled up in a blanket lying on the living room couch. For once Sam wasn't asleep but his face was slack and he didn't acknowledge Dean as he entered the room.

Bobby softly entered the room behind Dean. "Your Kool-aide idea was a stroke of genius. He's been pretty subdued since he drank it down." Bobby winced as he touched the left side of his jaw. "He's got a pretty mean right hook for someone in his condition."

Dean glanced at Bobby with concern. It was then that the total disarray of the living room hit him. The table was knocked over as was another chair, there were papers and magazines strewn across the floor and a broken lamp in the corner.

"Jesus, Bobby. Did Sam do all of this?" Dean asked. He couldn't believe that Sam had wrought so much damage in such a short time.

"Yeah, Sam attacked everything in his way--he couldn't tell friend from foe," Bobby explained.

"Are you both okay?" Dean asked as he took in the damage once again.

"Everything will be fine as long as you get him some help. How he's been acting, it's just not natural." Bobby felt as exhausted as Dean looked. Wrestling with the baby Winchester had taken a lot out of him. "Do you want some help loading him into the car?"

"Sure, Bobby. Thanks." Dean turned his attention from Bobby to the task at hand. Taking a deep breath Dean cautiously approached Sam, not sure what kind of reception he would receive. Sam still hadn't acknowledged that others were in the room with him.

Dean took in the sheen of tears lurking in Sam's eyes. He was entirely limp and boneless on the couch. Even his hair was lying flat and lackluster against his head.

"Hey, Sam. I heard you had a tough day." Dean wanted to tell Sam he was going to take him to the hospital because earlier he'd said it was Sam's decision. But after seeing the results of Sam's tantrum he couldn't afford to do that.

Dean pulled Sam's long legs off of the couch and pulled him into a sitting position. Sam didn't resist so Dean decided to push his luck. He pulled Sam's right arm over his neck and hooked his own left arm around Sam's waist. In one smooth motion he had Sam on his feet. Dean didn't doubt that if he stepped back Sam would dissolve in a heap on the floor but right now it seemed as though he'd be able to get Sam to the car without much trouble.

"I've got the doors," Bobby murmured. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Nah, that's okay Bobby. I can take it from here." Dean knew he owed Bobby a debt of gratitude for his help but right now he had his hands full. Full of Sam. And he wanted to minimize the number of people witnessing his brother in this current state. He wanted to give Sam as much privacy as the situation would allow.

Together they loaded Sam into the passenger seat. Dean had thought about putting Sam in back where he'd be more comfortable but he wanted to be able to see Sam. Especially if "Swinging Sam" made another appearance.

Dean sat back on his heels for a moment. The person sprawled in the passenger seat was not his brother. Sam was full of life, even when life kept knocking him down. Dean felt a surge of grief. Sam had to get better. He wanted his brother back.

They made the thirty minute drive in to the hospital in recprd time. Within minutes of pulling up to the ER entrance Sam was ensconced in a cubicle with several bodies attending to him. One of the nurses took a brief history from Dean about Sam and told him the doctor would be in shortly.

Dean couldn't remember the doctor's name within five minutes of the introduction. His attention was focused solely on Sam. The doctor made a thorough examination of Sam and then began firing questions at Dean. Dean watched a nurse insert a needle into the back of Sam's hand and hooked up an IV. Sam's eyes were half way open but he wasn't really in the room.

The doctor cleared his throat to get Dean's attention, "I can tell by looking at your brother that he's dehydrated. Dr. Jackson forwarded Sam's records to me. I'm going to run some tests to rule out a problem with his kidneys but based on his symptoms I would say he's suffering from severe fatigue."

Dean's chest tightened with concern. But that was why they were here, to help Sam, to make Sam better. He nodded to the doctor as he continued, "Were going to first rule out some other conditions. Once we're satisfied that he's stable I think he should be transferred next door. I hear you've already talked to Dr. Osmond about it."

Dean nodded his head in agreement. It looked like there wasn't another choice. Sam in his right mind would never have gone off on Bobby like that. If the Sleep Clinic could help him that's what they would do.

The doctor issued some orders to the nurse and rapidly exited the cubicle. The nurse quickly drew some blood and headed out the door. Dean was left alone with Sam.

Dean reached out and tugged one of Sam's hands into his own. What was happening to his brother? He'd been almost fully recovered two days ago and now here he was, lying motionless with an IV protruding from his hand. Again.

"Sam, what am I going to do with you?" Dean sighed as tried to make himself comfortable in the plastic chair. He tried to relax. He had done the right thing by bringing Sam here. Now he just needed to be patient until they sorted out what was wrong with his brother.

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Sam slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could hear something beeping in the background. Something was poking the back of his hand. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at a metal pole. He struggled to bring his eyes into focus. He finally recognized an IV pole next to his arm. At least now he knew why his hand hurt. God, he hated needles.

Sam turned his head and saw Dean. God, Dean looked like crap.

Dean's head snapped up. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?" he replied.

Sam startled at Dean's words. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud.

"What happened? Where are we?" Sam asked as he looked around. He recognized the standard equipment of an exam room but he didn't remember the trip there.

"We're at the ER. I'll tell you what happened. You went all Jackie Chan on Bobby and busted up his living room." Dean let that sink in for a moment. "Sam, do you remember anything that happened today?"

"I remember you and Bobby leaving for the cemetery and that's about it," Sam replied. He tried to bring his right hand up to his head but the IV pulled and stopped him in his tracks. Instead he pulled his left hand up to rub his forehead. "Ever since we left Ellen's I've been a little off. Does the doctor have any ideas about what's wrong with me?"

That was the million dollar question.

"They're ruling out a kidney problem and that kind of thing. They really think you have a sleep disorder so the doctor wants to check you in to the sleep clinic next door." This time it was Dean who rubbed his forehead. "Sam, I really hope you'll give this a try. I think they can help you." Dean leaned forward so he could look into Sam's eyes.

Sam sat back a little, distrust evident on this face. "Can't they just give me some medicine or something? I'm not staying in the hospital again."

"I know you're sick of being in hospitals, Sam. But we're just talking about one week. One week to give the doctors a chance to figure out what's going on. Don't you want to get back to normal?" Dean asked, his eyes boring into Sam's. He didn't want to go against Sam's wishes but he wanted his brother back.

"And you agree with this? You think this is what's best for me?" Sam's face and voice were defeated.

"Sam, I don't know what else to do. You're really scaring me, man. Could we please just give this a try?" Dean was trying to work his older brother magic.

Sam heard the pleading, his brother's desperation, and couldn't oppose Dean any longer.

"Whatever you think Dean," Sam murmured his acquiescence.