"Hey." A pillow smacked Dean in the face, waking him up. "Get up." Dean opened his eyes to see his brother up and making coffee.

"What's up, Starbucks?" Dean teased, sitting up with a smirk and rubbing his eyes. "You fully awake this time?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked in a deep raspy voice that he usually had when he was sick.

"It means you've been delusional with fever for two days straight trying to get that venom out of your system. You good?"

"I feel fine." Sam shrugged, setting two coffee-filled mugs on the table. Dean swiftly rose from the bed and placed his hand on Sam's forehead as the other slid the coffee out of Sam's reach.

"No coffee for you. Juice only."

"You're like a helicopter parent." Sam rolled his eyes.

"And you're like a snot-nose little kid who won't go to bed and get better."

"I'm better." Sam stated.

"You're warm." Dean corrected. "It's only been two days, maybe you need three."

"Can't sleep." Sam's raspy voice made the words sound more painful than they were. He dragged himself over to the mini fridge and took out a carton of orange juice, before he proceeded to pour himself a glass.

"What? Why?"

"It's just… all morning. I've been thinking…"

"Well that's never good." Dean said facetiously, but he didn't take his eyes off his brother.

"Meredith lived in that building, so she must've been touched at some point… but the others… how'd the old man touch them…? Why'd he choose those people? They lived a good distance away." Dean's brows furrowed.

"Well… I told you. The other two girls knew Meredith and Hayley. Maybe they visited her or something." He shrugged.

"You wanna go off an 'or something' to pretend this case is closed?"

"The case is closed, Sam. The monster's dead, the victims are okay, you're alive-"

"I'm checkin' this out." Sam grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, but Dean caught his wrist.

"Yeah, right. You're staying here."

"What are you afraid of, Dean?" Sam looked his brother over. "We always have to check something out when we're not sure. What? Are you scared of me getting hurt? I survived-"

"Barely!" Dean said, letting Sam's arm go, once he was sure he would stay to listen. "You were dead, Sam. On the floor. Dead… And the last couple days? You've been tossing and turning shouting things I can't even comprehend."

"Dean-"

"You were asking for Dad…" The older brother's eyes teared up. "You were screaming about Mom… about Jess…" At the mention of his girlfriend, Sam averted his eyes in a hopeless attempt to collect himself.

"You shouldn't have had to listen to that."

"That's not the point!" Dean yelled. "The point is that I don't like seeing you that way… I'm sure you don't like me seeing you that way… I don't want you sick. I don't want you hurting. I especially don't want you dead… Not again."

"You can't protect me from everything." Sam said, surveying his brother.

"I know," Dean nodded. "your delusions told me that." Sam looked down at his feet, embarrassed. "But I'd like to have time to help you through the things I can't save you from. I don't want you to be dead before we talk about any of this."

"So what?" Sam asked, making eye contact, once again. "Case closed, until another person dies? Hunting's delayed because you need to dress me in bubble wrap and talk about our problems?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "I'll come with you to talk to the girls." Sam nodded in agreement. "But pack your bags." Dean added, "We're packing the car and checking out of this hellhole. I'm not staying here another night." Sam once again nodded, but this time it was with understanding.

It's not the end! Get ready for a twist! Review Review Review.