A/N: sorry again for the lack of response, I promise I will do better!

Chapter 11

"Breathe, please Dean, breathe."

Sam begged his brother to take in air, tears starting to stream their way down his face as panic starting to set in when he saw no rise or fall of his brother's chest. Pressing his two fingers against the hot flesh on Dean's neck, he immediately found his brother's pulse, the hard and fast throb pounding it's way through Sam's fingers and straight into him, settling in his head. Dean was still alive. Lifting Dean's eyelid to check for some type of response, Sam was shocked even more at the crimson stare that was returned to him.

Sam pushed his panic back down as far into the pit of his stomach as he could, knowing if Dean couldn't breathe on his own, he'd have to do it for him. Throwing the pillows under his brother's head to the floor and laying him flat on the mattress, he shoved the wet washcloth away and ignored the heat radiating from him as he laid his hand flat across his forehead, tilting his chin up with the other. He pulled his jaws apart, and taking in a deep breath, covered Dean's mouth with his own as he pinched his nose closed and exhaled with all his might.

Nothing. The air Sam tried to give Dean went nowhere. Repositioning Dean's head, he inhaled deeply again and blew, but still, nothing. Sam felt the tears start to stream down his face even harder when he suddenly felt the death grip on his wrist, the hand clamped around it connected to his brother's arm.

Sam's eyes followed the hand up the arm, over the shoulder, and into the face of his brother, his eyes now open wide with fear, silently relaying the message he desperately needed Sam to hear. Clawing at his own throat with his free and squeezing with all his might with the other, Sam understood instantly.

Jay sat watching the whole scene, the message relayed to her in the same instant it was sent to Sam, and she, too, knew what it meant. She also knew she had to do something about it. She leaned over Dean, his eyes never leaving Sam's, as she forced open his mouth, seeing for herself the cause of Dean's inability to take in air.

"Sam, his airway is swollen shut. No matter what you do, or how hard you blow, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Do you have a scalpel in that first aid kit, or a really sharp knife? I'm also gonna need a straw, or a pen, or something about that size that's hollow."

Sam pulled out his knife from his pocket, thankful for the first time in his life that Dean was as anal about keeping the weapons in tip top shape as he was. He flipped it open, handing it to her handle first, trying to figure out what she could use as tubing. He stretched his long body as far as he could with Dean holding on for dear life, finally able to snag his bag with a finger, and dragging it to him. He tore through his duffle, every item he came up with useless. Ripping through his bathroom stuff, he dumped the contents on the floor, scattering the items in a dozen different directions. His eyes settled on a disposable razor, the handle hollow all the way to the razor top. He snapped the hard plastic top off like a dandelion head, leaving a perfectly shaped piece of tube.

Jay grabbed a pillow, instructing Sam what to do next.

"Lift him up Sam, I need this under his shoulders, his head needs to be tipped back."

Sam lifted Dean off the bed far enough for Jay to shove the pillow under his shoulders, his head hanging back and exposing every muscle and vein in his throat.

"Are you ready?" She asked, the question directed at both of them, knowing she'd be doing it to them both.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand, their eyes locking on each others again, Dean's in a look of desperation and Sam's of fear. Dean's eyes said it all, said he was ready, silently begging for help.

"Ready," Sam told her, knowing he wasn't, but if Dean was, he had to be.

Pressing the sharp tip of the knife against his throat just below his Adam's apple, Dean's body immediately tensed, his grip on Sam's hand so tight he could have crushed every bone inside into dust. She cut through skin, muscle, and connective tissue swiftly, gently pulling the flesh apart, as Dean pounded the mattress with his free hand, his body twitching with each blow. Sharp knives and jerking movements definitely did not go together, and Sam knew that. He grabbed hold of Dean's other hand at the wrist, cutting off the movement, sliding his own hand into Dean's fist and clasping their fingers together, as Dean's nails dug deep into Sam's skin.

"Relax Dean, it's almost done," he whispered his reassurance, hoping and praying it would be of some comfort.

Jay's vision obscured by the blood pooling inside, she reached for the cold rag she had draped over Dean's chest in an effort to cool him, his body heat rendering it barely damp and warm now. Twisting the corner into a tight wad of material, she forced it as gently into the opening as she could, soaking up the blood that had collected, trying to get a good look inside. Seeing it clearly, she ran the tip of the knife across Dean's windpipe, making her incision very carefully. Tossing the knife to the side, she slowly slid the razor handle into place, pinching the skin tight around it.

Dean's eyes slowly closed as his chest finally began to rise and fall, his grip on Sam's hand still firm from either fear, pain, or both, but slightly more relaxed. He was no longer crushing Sam's hands, just holding on by necessity. Jay located the first aid kit, pulling out the medical tape and tossing it open next to Sam. She ripped off two pieces, pulling the skin tight against the tube and sealing it closed.

"Sam, keep him still, and make sure that stays closed tight. I'll go call an ambulance."

Jay got up, making her way to the door, phone in hand. She opened it and slipped out quietly into the bright sunlight, punching 911. She gave the operator their location, explained the situation, then hung up, not really finding any need to stay on the line as the operators always asked. She dialed a second number, waiting patiently for an answer, her voice expressing nothing but the sheer pleasure she felt.

"This is an unexpected surprise. It's going to make everything so much easier……That's right, divide and conquer. Don't do anything stupid, I'll call you when it's time."

Hanging up, she stood out in the cool air, listening and waiting for the sirens to come.

Sam stared into space, adrenaline finally starting to slow it's rampant flow through his body, as physical exhaustion started catching up with the mental. His mind was fried, the rollercoaster of the last few days never slowing down or seeming to find the station to let them off. Feeling the intense heat still pouring from his brother's body, he wanted to know just how bad Dean was before the paramedics showed up and carted him away, leaving him to sit for hours in the waiting room of some overcrowded hospital, as sick and injured people paraded past him endlessly, their misery all their own. Reluctantly pulling one hand free from Dean's, he grabbed the thermometer from the kit laying just inches from him, the beeping from him turning it on making his brother open his eyes.

"Can you open your mouth? I want to take your temp before they come, I want to know what it is."

Dean had no energy left to fight, as he let Sam confirm what he already knew, and he braced himself for the barrage to come. Hearing the three little, ominous beeps, he pinched his eyes closed tight.

"103, Dean, it's 103. Damn it, did you have a fever earlier, before you fell asleep?"

Knowing he couldn't speak, Dean just shrugged his shoulders, indicating to Sam he had no idea. He could barely remember what happened when he was awake last, the nightmare he'd had when he was sleeping followed by the nightmare he'd just awoken to pushing everything else from his tortured mind. He just stared at Sam through glassy eyes, wanting nothing more then to just go back to dreamless sleep. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had dreamless sleep either, every time he dozed off, one horrific nightmare after another seemed to find him.

Sam reached for the washcloth he'd tossed to the side, soaking it in the ice water next to the bed and draping it over Dean's forehead, the cold water running down the sides of his face like tears. Or maybe they were tears, he really couldn't be sure. Sam couldn't even imagine what kind of hell his brother had just been through, wanting to breathe, needing to breathe, and not being able to draw in any air.

"You breathing ok?"

With just enough movement for Sam to see, he closed his eyes again and shook his head yes.

"You in a lot of pain?"

Again, moving just enough for his answer to be obvious, he shook left to right for a no. The momentarily slight squeeze to the hand he anchored himself to Sam with told him differently though, his eyes still shut, but Sam didn't need to see them to know.

"You know Dean, you really need to get over this macho hang-up you have about being sick or hurt. You do this every time something's wrong, and it always ends up like this or worse in the end. You always drove me and Dad nuts, you know that, never admitting you need anything?"

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Sam following those words, the nightmare still vivid in his head, the words almost echoing what he'd heard from dream Sam's lips. Sam felt Dean tense, saw the look in his eyes, and remembered what he'd heard come from his Dean's mouth.

"Dean, we ARE going to talk about that nightmare, maybe not today, but count on it, we will hash it out, and don't even think about using the excuse that you can't remember, because I know that's bullshit. Whatever it is, you need to let me help you, because I don't want to go through this again, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to either."

Dean's mind started drifting again as his eyes shut yet again, hearing Sam's words, but being unable to really listen to what he said. He felt the cold start to creep in, up his legs, into his body, up through his chest and shoulders, and into his head, as he started trembling. He started to curl in on himself, trying to keep in the heat that was permeating throughout his body from escaping, not even realizing that the heat needed escaping. There was far too much of it to stay inside. Sam watched as the chills started to overtake Dean, saw him try to roll over and protect himself, and forced his onto his back, not wanting to tempt fate anymore today.
"Dude, you've got to stay on your back, you can't roll over yet. I know you're cold, but you gotta stay put, at least for now."

Dean heard, and understood, shaking slightly yes again. Sam was not normally an opportunist, but he was curious on just how much information he could garner from his brother before the ambulance arrived, figuring he had him in a pretty open mind right now that Sam had to keep occupied for the time being. Sticking with yes,/no questions, he started right in.

"Dean, did you have nightmares before we got here, to Rockford?"

Eyes never opening, he shook Sam a definite no.

"Did you have nightmares before Roosevelt?"

He answered with another no.

"They all started after…?" Sam didn't want to elaborate on after, they both knew what he meant.

Hesitating for a moment, Dean's head moved in the opposite direction, a definite yes.

"I someone hurting you in them?"

More hesitation before answering, like something was trying to stop him, before another yes.

"Is it me?"

Dean's head didn't move, either he was unwilling or unable to answer.

"Dean, please, answer me," Sam's tone was a beg, he needed to know what was really going on in his brother's head.

Finally finding the strength, Dean answered with a final yes.

Sam's tears welled up again, as they started snaking their way down his face.