Completely humbled by the replies I had for chapter 10. Thank you all so much. It's your replies and reviews that spurn me on with this story.

On with 'Fever'…

Chapter 11- Fever

He didn't even stop when the young shop clerk hurried to the entrance with Dean's new receipt in his hand.

The elder Winchester had already left the parking lot...

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" Pick up the friggin phone, Sam…" Dean seethed as he looked accusingly at his battered cell phone, as if the little metal phone had betrayed him in some way.

The phone wasn't even ringing; all Dean got down his ear was the incredibly annoying busy signal, and considering he was the last person that Sam was talking to, call it a hunch, but the obvious signs didn't look good.

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he pushed his foot down on the accelerator…..

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The black wisp hovered a few feet above the unconscious Sam Winchester's body. Its red crimson eyes studied the strewn phone that lay a few inches from Sam's out stretched hand.

How easy would it be to just pick it up and mess with big brother Dean. To place even more thoughts in to his head, to place even more disturbing scenarios into his fragile mind.

He'd been given jobs to do before, but this one without a doubt was at the top of his favourites list at the moment.

Screwing with their frail minds, playing on their fears, watching as their fear consumed them; knowing that the fear alone would lead to their deaths.

It was one freakingly satisfying feeling.

How easy would it be to simply just take Sam's life…?

The red eyes glowered at that thought.

The idea of Dean coming back and finding his little brother dead; that would be worth it just to see the look on his face, to the feel the older boys greatest fear.

But he couldn't.

He had his orders.

He had to wait.

He had to wait for the perfect time.

There was movement on the floor, a very subtle movement from the frail form that lay on his side.

It was time to leave, but he'd be back to pay Dean a visit.

There was something the key needed to do…..

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He couldn't move.

No matter how much he wanted to, needed to, he just couldn't get his body to move.

The pain was overwhelming, surging through his body like fire, consuming every breath that rattled through him.

His hazel eyes stared at the phone that was just out of reach.

He remembered he'd been talking to Dean on the phone right before he had collapsed.

He just prayed that he'd be able to see Dean before he left this world.

Sam knew he was going to die….

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Dean Winchester scrambled up the steps to the beach side apartment and stepped through the frame of what used to be the veranda glass door.

" Sam..?" Dean shouted loudly, as he trudged around the living room, " Where..-"

His voice trailed off when he saw the fallen phone on the floor and just a few inches away, Sam lay on his side.

With his eyes closed, Dean would have easily been fooled into thinking that Sam had fallen asleep, but on closer examination, Dean realised that was far from the correct diagnosis.

Bending down onto his knees, Dean gently reached forward and touched Sam's cheek. He yanked his hand back as if he'd just been burnt.

Sam's body was scorching hot.

" Sammy..?" Dean whispered as he roused his little brother, pulling his body against his chest.

Dean was stunned at what he was seeing; a state of shock was washing over him.

He'd seen Sam sick. He'd been there all of Sam's life and seen him with flu, viruses and even with food poisoning; but this was something else.

" Fr...eee...eezzing..." Sam managed to stammer out, his voice laboured, racked with pain; shaking violently.

Dean's eyes darted to the sofa, " Come on, I'm gonna drag your ass to the sofa, and then you can get nice and cosy..."

Sam nodded, grateful beyond words that Dean was here. The younger Winchester could feel whatever was happening inside of him swarming like some type of infectious disease through his blood. His eyes were heavy and he felt sorry for Dean who was physically dragging him to the sofa. Sam wished he could be more help, but truth was, it hurt even to try and communicate with Dean; let alone get his legs to co-operate and start moving.

Dean placed his shaking little brother as gently as he could onto the sofa, and then lifted Sam's legs onto the other side, enabling him to lie down. It was then that Dean actually surveyed Sam from head to toe.

Sam didn't have any normal fever that Dean had ever seen. Yes he'd been a bit hot the last few days, and in pain now and again, but never to this extent.

Dean picked up the blanket from the sofa, opened it, and promptly wrapped his little brother in it. Dean was finding it increasingly hard to watch Sam tremble and convulse from the pain, the fever slowly devouring Sam.

" Sammy, tell me what happened...?" Dean insisted as he knelt down on the floor near his brother's face.

He watched Sam's lips that were trembling, his voice hitching as he tried to speak, his head slowly shaking.

" I...was...talk...ing...to...to...you..." Sam finally managed to say, " Then...I...I...this...hap...pened..."

" So you were feeling fine before this..?" Dean asked his hand gently stroking Sam's wet hair off his face, his skin glistening from the sweat, the fever streaming through in his face.

" I...don't...get..." Sam said shaking as he spoke, wishing he could just finish the sentence without stammering, without chocking, without wanting to cry. " It...was...here..."

Dean looked more carefully at Sam, his hand now coming to a rest on the top of Sam's head.

" What was here..?" Dean asked suddenly, his own eyes now glancing around the apartment for signs of intrusion.

" De...de...demon..." Sam chocked out, as he closed his eyes, the tiredness wanting to pull him in, " I..."

" How do you know..?" Dean asked again, trying desperately hard to keep the anger out of his voice. He couldn't have failed, the demon they'd been after for twenty three years, it couldn't be behind this, it couldn't have happened. Dean could not have failed again, " The demon was here, the demon..?"

" The...de...demon...spirit..." Sam whispered his voice growing more quiet, " Behind...all...of...this..."

" How can you be so sure Sam..?" Dean asked rousing his brother gently by touching his soaking wet hair.

" I...I...could...fee...feel...it..." Sam stammered out, "It's...the...only...thing...makes...se...sense..."

Dean nodded quietly; that did make sense.

Angry spirits and ghosts, Dean could fight. If they'd worked some sort of curse, or illness onto Sam, then all he had to do was find it and kill the son of a bitch, that would break it, either that or smash the altar, destroy the marker; heck Dean didn't care, he'd find it, destroy it and fix this situation.

He was beginning to get fed up of people taking pot shots at his family.

He was fed up of seeing Sam so ill.

" You're failing him, you're gonna just have to sit there and watch him die..."

Dean felt his voice catch in his throat.

" You're gonna be just fine Sammy.." Dean said with a nod, " You know what I think you're right about all of this, a spirit is behind it..."

For just a glimmer, just a brief moment; Dean saw Sammy's beautiful hazel eyes light up.

" You...you...be...lieve...me...?" Sam whispered, as tears shone in his eyes. This so, was not the time to cry, yet, he didn't have the strength to hide the tears that were threatening to spill down his face.

After all, he had a lot to cry about. Dean's bizarre behaviour, the fact that Dean had admitted in not so many words this morning that he believed that his little brother was mad and seeing things.

The fact that he'd had the living day lights kicked out of him, that he'd heard all the things that he'd never wanted to hear Dean say in his entire life, tumble out his brother's mouth in one lousy conversation. It had taken an insane amount of strength last night to not just sit on the floor and cry his eyes out.

But he hadn't.

Sam had held tough, that was probably more to do with the fact that he'd been unconscious most of the time, but he'd still held strong.

Now however was different.

Now he felt that everything he'd been bottling up inside the last couple of weeks wanting to pour out of him.

However, the worried look on Dean's face pretty much indicated that, this really wasn't the time for an out pouring of emotion. It was time for action; it was time that his big brother, the real Dean he knew and loved to make an appearance.

" Of course I believe you…" Dean said managing a smile for Sam's sake, " Look, did you get a look at this thing, cause I'm gonna need something to go on here…"

" It….lo…looked…..like…..eyes…" Sam mumbled, feeling his eyes getting heavier.

Dean stared at Sam confused,

" It looked like eyes…? Sammy even in your stuffed up head that can't have made a bit of sense…" Dean said with a grin, " Try and speak English this time…"

" Red…eyes…" Sam said again his eyes now fluttering shut.

Dean groaned as he shook Sam lightly, " No, nighty night just yet Sammy.."

" So…..ti…red…" Sam whispered his eye now closed his mouth barely moving.

Dean patted his brother's hand and got up from the floor.

Ok, so this wasn't exactly the no stress vacation that he'd planned for him and Sammy; ok screw that, there had been no planning, more of a case of jumping in the Impala and heading as far as he could from Jefferson City.

Florida was as far as Dean could have thought; plus it looked like they were on vacation, nice beaches, nice people, real hot women- oh and of course a hunt.

A friggin hunt even had to piss him off when he was trying not to hunt.

Scrubbing his exhausted face with his hands, Dean felt nothing but frustration. He had no idea what was going on and worse, he had no idea to fix it.

…..Treat it like a normal hunt…… Dean thought sucking in a breath…Start the research, start the checks, start…

Dean suddenly snapped his fingers, how could he be so blind..?

" The ESP..!" Dean suddenly said as he knelt down beside Sam, " Sammy, why didn't we think of that earlier..?"

" Too…..busy….call..ing…me…..a….li..ar…." Sam muttered which stun Dean's cheeks.

" God you're miserable when you're ill…" Dean mumbled as he studied Sam's sleep riddled form.

" Bitch…" Sam stammered out, managing a smile for his brother. He could feel the heat radiating off his body, yet he could feel the cold. The fever bleeding onto his skin, causing the sweat to run little streaks down the side of his head.

" Jerk…" Dean said with an equally half baked smile. " It's in the car, I'll grab it and get to work.."

Sam smiled as he watched as Dean disappeared out of sight.

At least one good thing had come of the situation; Dean 'the hunter' Winchester seemed to be back….

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" Find evils ass and then kick the friggin day lights out of it…" Dean muttered to himself as he jogged down the steps and hurried under the house to the Impala. Snapping open the trunk, Dean rooted around inside hunting for his home made EMF recorder. What the heck was wrong with him, how could he have forgotten to look for this in the first place. If he had done this, Sam might not even have this freaky mojo style curse on him.

Well it looked like a curse.

Nobody got that sick from nothing; did they..?

Dean paused with the EMF recorder in his hand, his mind wondering off on a different path.

Maybe this wasn't the demon, maybe Sam was sick, just genuinely ill. After all Dean had been the one to take him from the hospital and being him half way across America.

Dean promptly shook his head...Time to get to work, this isn't your fault; Sam being ill is not your fault...

It was time Dean Winchester started believing it...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Dean walked quietly towards Sam in the dimly lit living room. All the lamps were now switched on with new bulbs, but the main strip lights were still not working.

Night had already descended on the dysfunctional Winchester household.

Armed with a bowl of soup, Dean knelt down onto the floor, trying to compose himself as he looked at Sam's pale face.

It glistened from the intensity of the fever.

" Come on, you got to eat something..." Dean said titling his head to the side as he stroked his brother's hair, " Come on Sammy..."

Sam's hazel eyes heavily opened, his aching body still trembling; every word the younger hunter spoke laboured and riddled with pain.

It was breaking Dean's heart.

" Fi...Find...an...any...thing...?" Sam whispered as he tried to sit up, but failed. Dean gently put an arm on his brother's shoulder, a subtle reminder that perhaps movement wasn't the smartest idea.

Dean swallowed, and slowly nodded his head.

" Sammy, the room is dripping with something..." Dean admitted as he placed the bowl of soup he still had been holding on the coffee table, " But I can't find anything with a spirit with red eyes, or a demon that can control fevers or...-"

" Bo...book..." Sam whispered as he looked helplessly at Dean, " Tr...Try..."

" I've been through the Key of Solomon like nine times, been through Dad's journal to the point where I could recite every page to you..." Dean said in a drained voice, " Sammy, you have to stay strong, I promise you I will stop this..."

Sam's eyes closed as he struggled to swallow, his hazel eyes reopened slowly and looked at Dean.

" I...kn...know...you...are...try...ing..." Sam said with a smile, "I...don't...bl...ame...you..."

Dean's head fell in shame, " I shouldn't have doubted you, I should have listened to you from the start Sam; I'm real...-"

Sam's hand reached across and gave Dean's wrist a weak squeeze. Dean looked at him and smiled.

" It's...ok..." Sam said as he held a shaky breath in.

Dean looked down at Sam who had slipped back asleep, the bowl of soup lay untouched.

Sam was wrong.

This wasn't ok.

Dean's actions weren't ok.

Sam had warned him all along that there was this spirit out there getting to them. A spirit that could manipulate what people saw.

Sighing to himself, Dean eased himself off the floor and checked the time; it had just gone 7pm.

" You can't save him, you're gonna fail again..."

Dean's eyes looked around the room, the EMF recorder sitting on the table; the bars to the home made device remained silent and unmoving.

" Sam will die..."

Dean felt his feet hurrying to the table, as he snatched the EMF machine off the surface and stared at the reading in disbelief.

Dean knew something was in the room.

He could friggin well hear the thing.

Yet, why were there no readings, no static, no sounds...?

" There is no demon Dean, Sam is actually sick. Sick because of what you did to him, sick because you forced him to leave the hospital, sick because you're selfish..."

Dean's heart jumped in his throat.

" You only took Sam away from the hospital to make sure that they couldn't take him from you. To make sure that you were never left alone. Don't you get it Dean; this whole mess is all your fault..."

Dean hurried towards the veranda and ducked through the frame of the still shattered veranda doors.

He stood on the deck; his body lent against the rails and sucked in a breath that promptly felt as if it was threatening to strangle him.

Dean ran a hand through his dark brown hair, trying desperately to steady his fraying nerves.

He'd heard the voice, he heard that voice for the last few days; but there were no readings on the EMF, there was nothing on the night vision of the camera.

There was nothing.

Yet Dean was hearing this voice.

" You made a decision Dean; now live by the consequences..."

Dean shook his head trying desperately to clear it.

There was no voice, he was imagining it. It was the only thing that made sense.

The voice in his head was wrong.

They were all wrong.

Dean would save Sam; no matter the cost...

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The plot thickens ! Poor old Sam will he ever catch a break..? More importantly, what does this spirit want with Dean..? If you get a chance, leave a little note for me, and I'll see you all next update Xxxx