Colors

by DeanWinchesterFan1985

An easy hunt in Arkansas goes bad. With Sam injured and totally dependent on him, Dean fights not only to help his brother, but to overcome his own personal demons as well. Set immediately after Bloodlust. Sam & Dean angst!

36. Chapter 36

A/N: Thanks again guys for following this story so far, last chapter will be posted tomorrow. And a big thanks to those who have taken the time to review – means a lot.

Chapter 36

The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon before Sam heard the throaty grumble of the returning impala. He looked up from the book he was reading, the same one that Jenni had discarded the day before, tabbed his place, and dropped it onto the floor then opened front door.

Jenni was making her way up the porch stoop weighed down with several plastic grocery bags.

"How'd things go?" Sam asked as he helped to lighten Jenni's load.

"She's really shaken up – police got there right after I did." Jenni shook her head as she brushed past Sam and hurried down to the kitchen. Sam shut and secured the door before following her.

Jenni had set her grocery bags on the table and was preheating the oven for the frozen pizza she had picked up. She dug her fingernails under the cardboard flaps and ran her fingers along the edge, easing away the glue that kept the box closed.

"I just didn't really know what to say to her – you know?" Jenni placed the pizza on a cookie sheet and set it on the burners.

"It's not easy." Sam agreed seating himself at the table.

"I'm going to be going back and forth a bit – she's going to need some help with the arrangements and things. She almost seems like she's in shock – all the stress and worry and then the news from the cops." Jenni shook her head as she pulled the coffee canister down and began to scoop some of the dark brown grinds into a clean filter. "It was too much for her."

"That's fine, Jenni – do what you need to." Sam assured.

"I bought a lot of easy meals you can make, Sam." Jenni pulled down three mugs for the brewing coffee and began to pack away the groceries.

The oven beeped three times indicating it was preheated; Jenni paused in her task so she could shove the pizza into the oven. "Did he wake up while I was out?"

"For a minute, but he was still pretty out of it."

"Is he awake now?"

Sam shrugged. "I checked on him twenty minutes ago – he was still sleeping."

"Let's not wake him until we have to – I'm sure he'll be more agreeable if he has food in his belly."

Sam smirked and peered into one of the remaining grocery bags. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as he spotted a very familiar large candy bag. "Trying to bribe someone?" He teased looking back at Jenni and giving her a wide smile at the confused look on her face.

"What was that?" Jenni asked as she placed a bag of chicken thighs into the freezer.

Sam pulled out the peanut M&M bag and shook it, the contents banging against each other, sounding a bit like marbles. "You trying to bribe Dean into something?"

Jenni grinned and took the yellow bag from Sam's fingers, cutting open the top and offering some to Sam. He accepted a handful and sucked on the sweet candy coating and milk chocolate.

"Dean's favorite I'm assuming?" Jenni popped a couple of the candies into her own mouth and crunched them between her teeth.

"Well, let's put it this way – if you ever want anything from him bribery gets you a lot further than threats."

"I'll have to remember that." Jenni said her tone light as she poured coffee into two mugs before setting the pot back onto the hot burner. She'd take coffee into Dean when she brought him his dinner.

Sam accepted the coffee and smiled when Jenni brought him the milk from the fridge as well as the sugar canister. He knew that Dean would consider this a waste of perfectly good coffee, but Sam had never cared for the strong overpowering flavor of black coffee. He poured a bit of milk and stirred a couple teaspoons of sugar into his coffee, his spoon clinking against the edges of his ceramic mug.

Jenni sipped from her own mug, staring blankly ahead at the far wall – her thoughts a million miles away.

Sam's stomach grumbled as the sweet smell of spices, tomato sauce, and cheeses warmed in the hot confines of the oven.

Jenni pulled open the door and checked on the pizza, nodded once and closed the door again. She turned back to face Sam, her face worried. "Sam, did the police stop by?"

"I saw their lights through the blinds, and someone knocked at the door a couple times – but nothing too serious. We kept out of sight, and since Dean was asleep I wasn't worried about him being inquisitive as to who it was."

"That's a relief. I just hope the cops don't ask too many questions – the scene was extremely bloody and the blood was up really high on some of those trees…it is bound to raise suspicions."

"We'll handle things as they happen." Sam assured as he lifted his coffee mug and took a sip.

"I know – I just…" Jenni trailed off and turned to the doorway, suddenly alert and tense.

Sam stiffened and rose from his seat, joining Jenni's side and narrowing his eyes and cursing the thick glasses he had to wear.

A soft thump and shuffle sounded from the living area, something soft was being dragged across the hardwood floor. Jenni held up a hand to Sam, motioning for him to stay put while she exited the kitchen to go check it out.

Sam, of course, paid her no mind and followed her out of the kitchen, one step behind her. He shifted a hand to the waistband of his jeans and fingered the glock he kept on him at all times. It had become such a familiar lump – such a part of him that he never even noticed it unless he needed it.

"Dean? What are you doing? Are you nuts?"

Sam instantly relaxed and then tensed once more as he hurried up to his brother, who was leaning over the back of the couch, trying to catch his breath. His injured arm was held close to his body at an angle and his injured leg was held out, in what Sam had to assume was a very uncomfortable position.

Dean had his heel down on the floor and his toes elevated in the air, his knee was straight and he was holding the leg out slight in front of him. He turned his head as Sam and Jenni entered the room and offered them a cocky grin.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam snapped as he grabbed Dean's left arm and attempted to pull it over his shoulders, but Dean jerked it away again, placing it once more on the couch back while trying to slow his panting.

Drops of sweat trickled down Dean's forehead and stung his eyes. He blinked them away and shook his head as Sam offered a hand to him once again. "I'm fine, Sam."

"I can see that, Dean." Sam said crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his sibling. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

"I smelled coffee." Dean tried to straighten, and winced when the movement pulled at his injured leg. Sam and Jenni didn't miss it and both frowned disapprovingly at him.

"You couldn't wait ten minutes?" Jenni asked incredulously.

Dean grinned broadly and took a step forward, barely managing to catch himself on the couch before he fell when his bad leg buckled beneath him.

"Let's sit you down before you fall down." Sam insisted snaking his hand around Dean's waist and pulling Dean's left arm over his shoulder.

The two brothers headed slowly back to the kitchen, Dean's bum leg slowing them down dramatically. Jenni stepped ahead of them and filled the last mug with some of the sweet smelling brew and put it on the table, then pulled out a couple seats for Dean.

Sam was grumbling under his breath by the time he got Dean to the table and slid Dean's arm away from his shoulders.

"Stubborn ass." Sam muttered as Dean sank gratefully onto the provided seat. Jenni lifted Dean's leg onto another chair to keep the limb elevated.

"Think we should check the stitches." Jenni said sternly, pulling up the baby blue pajama pants.

"I didn't tear anything." Dean said stubbornly, grabbing Jenni's wrist in one of his large hands.

"You just walked from the bedroom to the living room, unaided – when you shouldn't be up and moving around at all. I'm going to check it, Dean."

"I'm fine." Dean slumped back in his seat, and flinched when he accidentally jolted his injured arm.

"You've been dosed up on pain killers for the past few days, Dean – you're nowhere near fine." Sam said darkly.

Jenni lifted her eyes to meet Sam's briefly, but didn't say anything as she began to unwrap the bindings around Dean's thigh.

"You actually expect me to sit in there twiddling my thumbs all day?"

"I expect you to follow the doctor's orders, Dean, yes! How else do you expect to get better?"

"Come on, Sam, you can't be serious? I'm bored out of my skull in there."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Jenni who was prodding the stitches thoughtfully with a gentle finger.

"Doesn't seem to be any damage done." Jenni said finally satisfied as she reached for the bandages. "You were lucky this time, Dean, that was quite a stunt you pulled."

Dean grinned and pulled his coffee cup closer to him, examining the contents critically for a moment before taking a sip.

Sam took his seat once more and Jenni hurried to the oven as the buzzer sounded. She flipped off the heat, opened the door, and slid the cookie sheet out with the aid of a couple hot pads. She set it atop the burners and kicked the oven door closed as she began shuffling through her drawers looking for a pancake turner.

She found one in the third drawer she tried and holding the cookie sheet with one hand, used the utensil to cut the pizza into personal slices. It wasn't as effective as a pizza cutter would have been, but she had to make do. She pulled out some paper plates and slid two slices of pizza onto each of them.

"Did you really spoil good coffee with that crap, Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes and took the plate Jenni handed to him. He set it down on the table and stared at the blue shadded toppings.

"Dean, don't tease your brother." Jenni said nudging Dean's left shoulder playfully as she handed Dean his plate.

Dean smirked and immediately lifted a slice of pizza to his mouth, working on his first bite before the plate even touched the tabletop.

"You going back to Dolly's tomorrow then, Jenni?" Sam asked as he struggled to lift one of the slices of pizza off his plate. It seemed almost as if the cheeses had glued itself to the paper as it stuck to it relentlessly and some of the toppings were beginning to slide off the Italian spices and hard crust.

"In the morning, probably."

"What'd you tell her?" Dean asked as he watched on in amusement as Sam continued to struggle with his pizza slice.

"I didn't say much actually – she wasn't in the best condition to hear me out. She was in hysterics at first and then she just needed to have a good cry. I'm sure I'll be able to get Harry's message to her - probably tomorrow or the day after that. But don't worry, she'll get it."

Dean nodded and took another large bite of pizza while he smirked at his brother. Sam had finally managed to get most of the cheese back on top of the sauce covered crust, although it was in a large clumpy mess. Globs of cheese still clung to the plate and a few loose mushrooms and olives had slid free from the cheese. Dean reached over and helped himself to the wayward toppings, popping them into his mouth, and smirking as Sam's dark glare shot in his direction.

Jenni rose from the table, not having grabbed any pizza for herself. "I think I'm going to go to bed early. Sam, will you make sure the pizza is taken care of when you guys are done?"

Sam nodded and took his first bite, grimacing as Dean stuffed most of his crust into his mouth and proceeded to take a sip from the coffee mug before him.

"Night, guys." Jenni waved as she disappeared from the kitchen.

"Night, Jenni." Both boys echoed before looking back at each other.

"Do you think you could possibly stuff anymore into your mouth, Dean?"

"Probably." Dean admitted through a mouthful of pizza. He lifted the extra slice slowly and grinned at Sam, not bothering to swallow. "Want a fork, Samantha?"

Sam sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Real funny, Dean."

"I'm just sayin'" Dean chuckled and took another sip of his coffee.

"Then don't." Sam muttered as he folded his pizza neatly down the middle and took another large bite, making the food much easier to get cleanly into his mouth.

"Well aren't you grumpy?" Dean laughed lightly as he finished the last bit of his second piece and wiped his fingers on the pajama pants.

"What'd you expect after that little stunt you pulled?"

"Think you should loosen up a little, Sammy."

"Dean, you aren't supposed to be walking on that leg."

"Well I did."

"You're such a jerk."

"Bitch." Dean looked over to the stove and the remains of the pizza. "Want to get me some more, Sam?" He smiled brightly as Sam scowled. "You said yourself that I shouldn't be on my leg."

"Yet you managed to get to the living room on your own just fine." Sam grumbled, but he rose anyway. He snatched the paper plate from Dean's fingers and tossed another slice of pizza onto it.

"Get the coffee while you're over there too, would ya?"

Sam shook his head but picked up the coffee pot and brought both back to the table. He set the coffee pot where both brothers could easily reach it and dropped Dean's plate before him.

If Dean was bothered by Sam's mood he didn't show it. He picked up the pizza slice with enthusiasm and began to eat.

Sam toyed with his second slice of pizza, not all that hungry.

Dean frowned at his brother, watching as the dangling cheese fell into a limp pile onto the greasy paper plate. "You gonna eat or play with that, Sam?"

Sam set it back on the plate and shoved it away. "I'm not very hungry."

Dean shook his head and reached for the coffee, Sam had to nudge it forward a bit with the tips of his fingers before Dean could grasp the handle. He topped off his coffee mug and lifted the still warm brew to his mouth, his eyes locked on his brother. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

Dean swallowed and shook his head, placing the coffee mug back on the table. He leaned forward a bit, letting his good arm rest on the polished service as he studied his brother critically. "What is it?"

"I said I'm fine, Dean."

"Which means you're not."

Sam shook his head and rose from the table, taking his plate and coffee mug with him. "Don't worry about it, Dean, it's nothing."

"Which means it's something serious, Sam. What is it?"

Sam dropped the plate into the garbage and dumped the remains of his coffee down the sink. He filled the mug with water, tapping his fingers against the edge of the basin while he pondered on whether he should really confide how he was feeling to Dean.

"Sam?"

Sam chewed on his lip and slapped his hand against the faucet with a bit more force than necessary, bringing the water's flow to an abrupt halt. He didn't turn to face his brother, rather he stayed facing the wall, his shoulders bunched, his whole body going tense. He clung to the edge of the counter, his head dropping slightly as he drew in several deep deliberate breaths.

"I didn't know what to think when I found Harry out there, Dean. The way he was torn up – what the harpy did to him, I don't even know how to say it…" Sam shook his head and slowly turned to face his brother.

Dean straightened a bit as he saw Sam's pasty complexion. Sam's skin was so pale it was almost translucent – his hazel eyes were blown wide magnified ridiculously by those large glasses, making it almost comical, but there was nothing funny about this situation. Sam wasn't looking at him, but was rather looking at the ceiling, his teeth burrowing into his bottom lip as he fought for control of his emotions.

"Sammy," Dean began, unsure of what to say.

"That could've been you out there, Dean. That bitch could've done the same thing to you. What would I have done if…" Sam dropped his chin, looking down at his socked feet. He twitched his toes slowly as he dug his fingernails into the tender skin of his forearms.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam looked up at his brother, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry I scared you – I didn't want to do that."

"But you're not sorry you went after this thing alone?"

Dean frowned and dropped his gaze to his lap, slowly shaking his head. "No, I'm not sorry that I went after her – I'm sorry that you feel like I should be sorry though. But it's my job to make sure you're safe, Sam, nothin' is gonna change that."

Sam opened his mouth but was saved from responding to that remark by the vibrating of Dean's cell in his pocket. He instead settled for a silent, but deadly stare, and pulled out the phone. He glanced briefly at the caller ID then flipped the case open and held the device to his ear.

"Bobby?"

Dean leaned back in his chair, glanced at the cold and unappetizing pizza. He made a face and turned away, not that he was all that hungry anymore anyway. He watched Sam as he listened in on his brother's side of the conversation.

"What about Joshua?" Sam asked suddenly pushing away from the counter and running a hand through his hair and pacing about the kitchen. Dean knew from Sam's agitated body language that Bobby wasn't calling with good news. He slumped a bit in his chair, furrowing his brow as he thought about what could be done with the harpy.

"I see, what about…? No, huh?" Sam sighed and shook his head, holding his free hand to his glasses to keep them from slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know – Dean and I aren't really in the best shape for hunting right now."

Dean frowned at this but didn't comment on it. He didn't like being labeled as incapable, but he knew that Sam was right. Neither of them were ready to go after this thing again – hell he had been the one who had suggested this. But having it come from Sam was different, made him feel a lot weaker than it should have and he immediately got on the defensive.

Sam didn't seem to notice and was continuing his pacing about the small kitchen. "Dean injured her, but I don't know how bad – or how long she'll have to recuperate for. Probably not as long as us though."

Dean watched as Sam grew silent, listening to something that Bobby was saying. He held out his hand for the phone but Sam waved him away and pressed it tighter to his ear.

"Gimme the phone."

Sam shook his head and turned away, pressing a finger into his free ear to muffle Dean's complaints. "Thanks, Bobby. I guess we'll have to make do for now." Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and shut the case, dropping the small item onto the nearest counter and seconds later deposited his glasses right next to it. He ran his hands up and down his face, rubbing wearily.

"What the hell was that about, Sam?"

"Bobby can't find any hunters that are even close to Arkansas right now, Dean. He said he could probably get here in a week – he's got something up there that's keeping him busy, but he said he'd get here as soon as he could. We're on our own for now."

"You're kidding? Where's Joshua?"

"He's in investigating a chupacabra sighting – he couldn't be here for at least four days, even if he didn't have a hunt of his own. Bobby said he tried all his contacts and everyone is too far away to be of much use, or are working a hunt of their own."

"Damn it!"

"Tell me about it." Sam grabbed the glasses again and shoved them back onto his face, pushing against the frame until they hideous things sat as far up as they could go on his nose. "You done? Ready to get back to bed and off that leg?"

Dean looked back to the half eaten slice of slightly warm pizza with its congealing cheese and nodded. "Yeah, leg's starting to hurt like a bitch."

"I believe it." Sam agreed as he grabbed Dean's left arm and steadied his brother while he eased the injured leg back to the floor. Dean barely suppressed a moan as sharp needles started prickling his already aching limb. Sam gently rocked Dean into a standing position and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulders to help support the elder as they started back to the bedroom.

They didn't speak as they made their way down the hall, Dean concentrating too hard on trying not to fall and Sam too lost in his own thoughts and worries about the hunt that they would have to complete on their own. It wasn't going to be easy – and he was determined not to let the harpy get the best of either of them again. She had done enough damage as it was, and both of them were suffering because of it.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Bedroom is this way, dude." Dean paused leaning slightly against the wall and letting his forehead rest against the drywall and paint. He was breathing harder than normal and his brow glistened with sweat, the front of his shirt was soaked with it.

"We'll have to get you a fresh shirt, Dean." Sam gestured to the soaked shirt with a bob of his head.

Dean didn't answer, but instead, clenched his jaw together and nodded once. Sam frowned, realizing just how much pain his brother had to be in. Dean was never one to voice how bad he was hurting, but the fact that he hadn't made some smart ass comment about Sam trying to get him out of his shirt told Sam far more than words ever could. Dean's pain was intense, and he was in desperate need of meds to help ease the agonizing pain ripping through his battered body.

The walk to the bed was extremely long – it felt as though it dragged on for miles, and took hours to get to it. Dean sagged against him a bit more with each tedious step he took. By the time Sam unhooked Dean's arm from around his neck he was all but dragging his brother along.

Dean sank back onto the mattress, his eyes closed and clenched tightly in pain, his brow furrowed. Sam watched as Dean took in several deep slow painful breaths, trying to get his panting under control once again.

"How the hell did you make it out there on your own?" Sam asked as he retrieved the prescription bottle from atop the dresser and palmed it along with the half filled water bottle they had brought in a couple days ago. It was warm, but the sooner Dean got his pill the more comfortable he would be.

Dean accepted the pill and warm water without comment. He tossed the pill into his mouth, almost shooting the thing down his throat, before drowning the rest of the water bottle, and closing his eyes again almost immediately.

"'S called willpower, Sammy."

"More like being a stubborn ass, Dean." Sam sat on the edge of the bed and began picking at the quilt.

"Yeah, well…" Dean didn't bother continuing – both brothers knew what was going to come from him anyway.

"So what are we going to do about the harpy, Dean?"

Dean sighed and slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the moisture that had built up there from the pain that had left him feeling helpless and exhausted. "I don't know, Sammy. I don't know what we can do. We're not really in the best shape to go after her."

"I know that – but we can't let her go on hurting people."

"I drove the blade pretty deep into that bitch's chest – she won't be doing any hunting of her own for a while."

"Maybe not, but she won't be happy when she does come back, Dean. Chances are is that she'll come gunning for us first chance she gets."

"Probably."

"There has to be a way for us to stop her."

"We'll figure it out, Sam, don't worry about it right now."

"We need to have a plan, Dean."

Dean blinked sleepily at his sibling, his soft jade eyes twinkling with amusement and unending patience. "Why do we have to worry about that right now?"

"Why not?"

"Well if you think about it, Sam, it's kinda obvious. We're both dead on our feet – you've just drugged me up and I can see from here that you're not far off from passing out yourself. We can worry about this in the morning – there isn't any sense in getting worked up about this bitch when we can't even stay awake."

Sam had to admit that what Dean was saying made sense. He could feel his own fatigue nagging at him, could feel the tired slump of his shoulders, had noticed the way his feet had dragged a bit more on the floor on their way back to the bedroom. Even the caffeine in the coffee hadn't done much to help keep him awake. It had been a hard week for both of them, and his own soft bed with warm blankets and worn pillows was looking more welcoming every second.

"You're right, Dean, we'll worry about it tomorrow. I'll just go take care of the pizza – I'll be back."

Dean waved him off with a lazy flick of his hand. Sam rolled his eyes and left him alone in the room. Dean listened as Sam's footfalls disappeared down the hall again. He tugged his shirt over his head, dropping the sweat soaked garment onto the floor and rolled on his side, adjusting himself so he was facing Sam's bed.

Sam returned a moment later, yawning and scratching at the top of his head. He smirked when he saw Dean on his side, right arm dangling off the bed, his head all but buried into the pillow and the blankets were already beginning to rumple at Dean's feet. Dean's eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep – but his face still looked tense, not at all relaxed.

Sam quietly slipped over to the bed, adjusting the blankets over his drugged brother – knowing Dean was too far gone to ever know that Sam had tucked him in. He smiled as he remembered the countless times that Dean had done the same for him over the years. He pressed the back of his hand briefly against Dean's brow, making sure his brother hadn't developed a fever, and when satisfied that he hadn't Sam walked back to turn off the overhead light. He stumbled a bit in the dark, but found his bed quickly. He pulled his glasses off, dropping them onto the bedside table, then kicked off his jeans, pulled his t-shirt over his head and crawled underneath the cool sheets. Moments later he too was asleep.

***

Blood was splattered all over the trees – the strong smell of iron hung heavily in the air. The leaves were heavy with the stains that had dried under the sun. The dirt had soaked up a good portion of the blood that had been spilled onto it, but her sense of smell was powerful enough that she could still make out scent of his blood.

It had stained the ground, had run in rivers along the soft earth, had filled the empty spaces in the dirt as it had left his body. Bugs had swam in it, had laid their young in it, had spoiled it. It was no use to her now, the blood on the trees had dried and was now flaking off in small brown flakes when gently brushed – that too would be no good to her.

She lifted her head slowly – looking up at the full blown moon. The silver streams of light it cast into the forest barely penetrated the canopy above her. She walked slowly, limping as the pain in her chest increased, the wound not yet completely healed. She would need to feed – would need the nourishment to help her recuperate. It'd help her feel stronger as well – be more ready for the stranger that had done this to her, who had ruined her dinner for her. Now her dinner was gone – although by now it would've been spoiled, the bugs would have gotten to it for sure. She'd been gone several days, the wound bad enough to keep her underground until the bleeding had eased.

Her long wings quivered slightly, she let them drift to the ground, the rough black feathers dug up the soft earth as soon as they touched it. The razor sharp ends brushed the barks of the trees – almost cutting them off their trunks without even trying.

Her long talons dug into the ground, grooving several inches into the packed dirt as she sniffed around for any other sign of her quarry. She found the stranger's scent at the log where she had tossed him, leaving him for later, but it was covered with several more unfamiliar and unappetizing scents. Some prey smelled better than others – and he had smelled particularly sweet to her, same as the man she had originally taken. His blood had sung to her with it's sweet tempting melody, the one who had disturbed her had more active blood – it had thrummed in his veins, egging her on with every beat of his heart.

Her large beak opened and closed several times as she remembered the scent. As soon as she had torn him the first time she had smelled it – the scent so powerfully bittersweet that she almost couldn't resist. She would have torn him apart right then if he hadn't attacked her. He had been faster than she had anticipated, and it had damaged her badly. She still struggled to fly – and every day she found herself walking a little bit less, her body too weak to try and carry her weight.

However, this didn't bother her. If this body did give up on her, which was a possibility if she didn't feed, she would be reborn. Her new body would be perfect and stronger than this one had been. In her new body she could take down the stranger – and stop any of the others that tried to help him.

She stuck out her tongue, licking a patch of dried blood that had fallen onto the log where he had landed. The blood was still sweet, making her mouth water with anticipation. Drops of saliva fell from her slightly open beak, making large puddles on the ground that would disappear into the earth overnight.

Slowly she drew her wings back to her body, letting them rest on her back as she made her way through the trees, her head ducked low and a slow stream of blood from the still oozing chest wound trailed after her.

***

Dean wasn't sure what woke him, but he was sure that he couldn't have been asleep for too long. The room was still cloaked in darkness, and the outside world was still humming with the familiar cadence of nocturnal creatures.

He lay still, breathing deeply, not bothering to open his eyes. He could hear Sam on the opposite bed, his deep breathing steady and unbroken. Whatever it was that had woken Dean had not yet gotten around to waking Sam, and for that he was grateful. The kid deserved to have a good night's , one that wouldn't be plagued with nightmares.

Still, if something was amiss enough to wake Dean, it wouldn't be long before Sam too was awake. It was up to Dean to make sure that Sam got the sleep his body so desperately needed.

Grinding his teeth together, and pulling his lips into a thin hard line to silence any sounds that might try to escape, Dean gingerly rolled himself onto his side and pushed up onto his elbow.

The pain was tolerable, the pain meds still clearly doing their work, which made it easier for him as he rolled all the way out of bed.

His bare feet hit the floor, the carpet was cool under his skin, and a slight shiver traveled up his bare legs. He felt rather exposed wandering around in his boxers, but he wasn't sure where his blue pajama pants were and didn't want to turn on the light to try and find them. That would surely wake his brother.

So, instead, he crept quietly across the floor on the balls of his feet, keeping his arms around his bare torso and rubbing at the goose bumps that were popping out all over his tanned skin.

The bedroom door creaked a little when he opened it, and Dean froze – looking over at Sam's bed.

He could see Sam's lanky form shift under the covers, before turning restlessly, but Sam didn't wake. Dean let out a soft breath and stepped out into the hall, closing the door as softly as he could behind him.

The wooden floor was a lot cooler than the carpet had been and Dean found his body trembling without his consent.

Suck it up, Winchester.

He clung to himself tighter and padded across the hall, peering inside Jenni's exposed bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on, the covers turned down and the pillows propped up against the headboard, but other than that the bed looked undisturbed. The personal bathroom door was open and the light off, Jenni's jacket had been tossed over the back of the desk chair in the corner, and her tennis shoes were sitting against the far wall. But there was no sign of her.

Frowning uneasily, Dean started down the hall, cursing to himself as he bumped into the walls as he stumbled along in the dark.

His leg was starting to ache and he found himself limping heavily, favoring the injured limb. He knew Sam would kill him if he found out about Dean's second little escapade in one day, but he could worry about that later.

The living area was shrouded in darkness, the logs that had been burning earlier had dissolved to ash, a few red embers still sat amongst the remains and popped, shooting up into the dark fireplace before fading out and joining the pile of dark ash.

Dean looked to the kitchen and hobbled to it when he saw the light was on. He clenched his right hand into a fist and kept it close to his body, clenching his jaw as the pin pricks of sharp pain started at the base of his elbow. He knew he was definitely going to feel all this movement in the morning.

He paused in the doorway, leaning his head against the doorframe and frowning tiredly when he saw Jenni at the table, a cup of coffee and donut by her side, a book in her hands.

Jenni looked up from her book when she felt foreign eyes on her, and immediately was on her feet, dropping the book onto the table. She hurried over to Dean, but paused upon reaching him, looking up into those large expressionless eyes.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Little late to be up isn't it?"

"I couldn't sleep – reading usually helps." Jenni stepped aside as Dean pushed away from the doorframe and started to make his way to the table, aching for a place to sit. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure." Dean settled down into a chair, grimacing as he tried to find a good position for his leg. He compromised by stretching it out as far as he could then reached across the table and snatched Jenni's donut.

Jenni poured coffee into a mug and handed it to him, smirking when she saw her donut in his hands. She didn't bother pointing out that she had picked up a whole box of them earlier, but rather settled for helping herself to another one and joined Dean at the table.

Dean was looking at her book critically, turning it around so he could read the title properly. "This any good?"

"I love it." Jenni nodded as she eyed the cover of her book.

Dean opened it and began flipping through the pages, gently fanning, but not really looking at them. "What's it about?"

"Vampires."

Dean's eyes narrowed marginally.

"It's actually really good – I think I saw Sam looking at it earlier."

"He always was a bookworm. Used to read anything he could get his hands on when we were little." Dean scoffed as he took a sip of his coffee.

"A friend recommended it – I wasn't high on the idea of reading about vampires, but I've really enjoyed these books."

"So what's with the apple?"

Jenni looked at the cover critically. "I think it has something to do with choices, actually."

"An apple?" Dean cocked his eyebrow in disbelief and pursed his lips.

"Well, if you think about it – apples have quite a history in human lore. They are often tied in with making choices."

Dean didn't look convinced so Jenni continued.

"Think about it – Snow White? Paris and the golden apple? Adam and Eve? They are quite the versatile fruit."

"Just seems really strange to have on the cover of a book that has to do with vampires."

"I don't think that Twilight is your average every day vampire story, Dean."

"Probably not – not many people know that such things really do exist" Dean pushed the book away with the tips of his fingers. Jenni pulled it closer to her and flipped it open to where she had been reading earlier, her lips curling up as she submerged herself into its pages.

Dean nibbled at his donut, his eyes wandering all over the room, before finally settling on looking out the back window.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean asked distracted, turning back to look at Jenni.

Jenni looked up from her book, her eyes a bit distressed and her face worn. "Nothing, never mind."

Dean leaned over the table, resting is good arm on the smooth surface, his eyebrows pulling together in a slight frown. "Jenni, what is it?"

"I don't know – it's just…do you ever get the feeling that something is about to happen? Something you can't control? But you have no way of stopping it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know I've got this pit in my stomach – like something's wrong."

Dean felt his own insides tighten. Memories of the hospital rushed him and he found he couldn't breathe.

You said a reaper was after me? How'd I ditch it?

Dean, you really don't remember anything?

No. Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong.

I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?

Yeah, Dad, you know I will. You're scarin' me.

Don't be scared, Dean.

"Dean, are you ok? Dean!"

He felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him up against the back of his chair. His head was ducked down to his chest, his uninjured arm had found it's way to his head, his fingers were fisted in his short hair. His head was spinning, he felt nauseous and dizzy, he was trembling, but couldn't stop it. The world was spinning around him in a dark blur, a loud ringing had started in his ears – he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything.

"Dean!" Jenni was getting frantic. She had practically jumped the length of the table when she had seen Dean's face drain instantly of color and his eyes roll up into his head. He was breathing shallowly, and his fists were clenched so tightly that he was bound to leave nail marks in his soft skin. She was holding him up, certain that the only thing keeping him from falling from his chair was herself. She didn't know how long she could hold him up though. He was a lot bigger and heavier than she was, and it was only with tremendous force that she was able to keep him seated.

He reached up with his right hand and grabbed onto Jenni's arm, tightening his fingers convulsively on her. She watched as he fought for control, willing himself to calm down. He took in deeper breaths, trying to slow his hyperventilation without much success.

Jenni grabbed the back of his neck firmly, and pushed his head to his knees. "Deep breaths, Dean. Nice and easy."

His body was quivering under her grasp, and his skin was slick with sweat, but Jenni kept her firm hold on him. He shuddered as he took in several deep breaths, blowing slowly through his mouth as he nodded and pushed her away, straightening slowly in his seat.

Jenni crouched next to his chair, looking at him through narrow eyes. "Maybe we should get you back to bed, Dean."

Dean shook his head weakly and reached for his coffee mug. He wrapped his longer fingers around it, and allowed the warmth to flow through his quivering hand.

"Are you sure you're ok, Dean?"

Dean closed his eyes but nodded once, swallowing hard. Jenni frowned skeptically as she rose and hurried to the sink. She got a clean dishrag and ran it under the cool water. She returned a moment later and handed it to Dean.

"Here, clean yourself up a bit."

Dean pressed the cool material against his face while trying to get himself under control. He was vaguely aware that Jenni was pulling a chair up beside him and watching him with anxious eyes. He pulled the rag away again, setting it on the table and lifted his coffee mug, taking slow deliberate sips.

"Thanks." He muttered once he was sure he wouldn't stutter over the word.

Jenni nodded and sat back accessing him skeptically. Dean felt like a bug under a microscope, he didn't like it.

"So you were saying?" He pressed.

"I don't think we should talk about this now – I'm sure it's nothing anyway. I've been known for jumping the gun."

Dean frowned and looked into his coffee mug, rubbing his thumbs slowly up and down the warm ceramic.

"You ready to go back to bed? You still look awfully pale, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "It'll probably wake Sammy if we go in there now. The kid needs his rest – he's been wearing himself out the last few days."

"So have you, Dean, besides you need to get off that leg."

Dean again shook his head.

"Why don't you stay in my room tonight then?"

"You need to get some sleep too, Jenni."

"I'm not that tired, Dean."

Dean lifted an eyebrow as he stared at her critically.

Jenni rolled her eyes as she got to her feet and grabbed her book. "Dean, you need some sleep – I don't. It won't hurt you to use my bed." She offered a hand to Dean who refused it, but rather used the table to push himself up to his feet. He stood triumphantly and took one wobbly step forward before his shaking knees buckled. He was save from kissing the floor by Jenni's strong supporting arms.

"Take it easy, Dean." Jenni said softly as she wrapped Dean's uninjured arm around her shoulders and grasped him around the waist.

Dean limped alongside her as Jenni helped him through the kitchen, using the spine of her book to flip off the lights as they passed the switch. The house was thrown into darkness as the two stumbled through the living room and down the hall to the two bedrooms.

Jenni paused when they reached her bedroom, trying to slow down her heavy breathing and give them both a much needed rest. Dean leaned his head against the doorway, holding his injured leg out in front of him in an attempt to ease some of the throbbing pain currently vibrating through his thigh.

"You ready?" Jenni asked as she reached over and flipped the wall switch, giving them a bit more light.

Dean nodded and pursed his lips as they started for the large bed together. He could feel sticky perspiration trickling down his face, his hair was damp with it, and his chest glistened with it. He really wanted to take a shower, he wanted to get cleaned up.

Jenni helped him to the bed, propping him up on a couple pillow before lifting his leg onto another to help elevate it. She gently unwrapped the bandages, checking the stitches and still puffy pink skin.

Dean closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. He heard Jenni shuffling about the room, the sound of something heavy was dragged across the floor and then the sound of running water came from the bathroom.

He jumped moments later when something cold was placed on his forehead, his eyes flew open in surprise.

"Shh – just take it easy, Dean." Jenni said quietly as she ran the cool damp cloth on Dean's face, wiping away the sweat that was starting to dry on his tan skin. She moved slowly, and with great care, as she wiped every inch of his face – being even more gentle when she worked with or around his eyes. She paused when she got to his slightly parted lips and looked back to his eyes.

They were closed, his face utterly relaxed. She rubbed a trembling thumb against his soft lips, smiling as the reassuring puff of air hit her skin.

Dean cracked his eyelids and looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

Jenni blushed and rose – returning to the bathroom to remoisten her washcloth. She returned and began to wipe down his chest.

He jumped again and arched his back, his eyes widening in shock and surprise. "Holy."

Jenni placed a small hand on Dean's sternum and pressed gently, forcing Dean back against the mattress. She again went to place the cold cloth on his sweaty skin, but found her wrist caught in Dean's hand, stopping her. She lifted her eyes to meet Dean's glassy pain filled ones.

"Don't." Dean croaked.

Jenni set the cloth down onto the bedside table and leaned forward, her eyebrows meeting as she placed a hand on Dean's forehead. "Dean, are you feeling ok?"

Dean closed his eyes and nodded.

"You're running a small fever." Jenni frowned as she touched his cheek with the back of her hand.

"'M ok." Dean muttered.

"I can see that."

Dean didn't answer. Jenni tapped him softly on the shoulder and he opened one eye lazily to look at her.

"Let's get you lying down, Dean, then you can sleep."

Dean allowed her to help him lie down, barely suppressing a groan as his leg protested the movement. Jenni readjusted the injured leg on the pillow and pulled the comforter over Dean's shoulders. Then she left the room, returning a moment later with some Advil and a glass of water.

"Dean, can you swallow these?"

Dean grunted but didn't bother opening his eyes. Jenni cupped a hand under Dean's neck and gently lifted his head off the pillow, pushing the painkillers past his lips and then helping him to swallow them with the aid of the water.

Dean muttered something incoherent and was asleep before Jenni had lowered him back onto the pillows.

Jenni sighed and set the water glass onto the bedside table and picked up her book, settling herself more comfortably in her chair, knowing it was going to be a long night.

***

He woke slowly, feeling sluggish, but had the impression he wasn't alone. He opened his eyes slowly, his long lashes felt as though they had been pasted together.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean relaxed as he heard his brother's soft voice, he closed his eyes again and let his head sink further into the pillow.

Sam placed the back of his hand against Dean's brow, and smiled when Dean opened his eyes again. "Your fever's come down."

"Where 'm I?" Dean didn't recognize the room, couldn't recall coming in here – the previous night was all a blur.

"You're in Jenni's room – she left a note when she left this morning."

"What 'm I doin' here?"

"I don't know – you really don't remember anything, Dean?"

Dean shook his head slowly once but stopped, the movement made him dizzy. "No."

"Jenni's note wasn't very detailed – she just said she's gone down to Dolly's and will be back late and that you were in her bed."

"Time is it?"

"Uh," Sam glanced at his watch then looked back at his brother. "Quarter to one."

"In the afternoon?"

"You needed the sleep, Dean. Are you hungry?"

Dean thought about it for a moment before nodding. "I could eat."

"Stay here – I'll go get something." Sam rose from the chair that Jenni had pulled next to the bed the night before.

Dean watched him through half closed lids until Sam disappeared through the door. He then allowed himself to relax further and really assess himself. He felt cold, despite being covered with heavy blankets and his body felt heavy, he doubted he could move even if he wanted to.

He must have drifted off again because the next thing he was aware of was Sam's soft voice and a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Dean? Are you awake?"

"Hmm?"

"You think you could eat something?"

Dean opened one eye slowly and looked at his brother.

Sam's eyes were red rimmed and blown, worry was flowing from them in waves. Sam's face was drawn, his cheekbones where protruding against his pale skin, his jaw was clenched, and his messy hair was even more tussled looking than usual.

"Dean? You think you can eat?"

Dean nodded once and tried to sit himself up, but his arms were made out of jelly, and wouldn't support even the slightest movement.

Sam set the tray of food he had brought onto the floor and grabbed Dean under the arms, helping him to slide back against the headboard, he propped the pillows up behind him. "You ok?"

"'M fine, Sam." Dean could feel the sweat trickling down his face and he felt breathless.

"Let's get some food into you." Sam wasn't fooled by Dean's bravado, he could see the pasty complexion and the sticky perspiration that dotted Dean's brow. He placed the tray of dry toast and hot tea on Dean's lap.

Dean looked at it with a wrinkled nose.

"Just eat it, Dean."

Dean picked up a slice of toast and took a small bite.

"So," Dean asked giving his brother a sly smirk as he tore at his toast, scattering small brown crumbs about the tray. "I heard you were reading up on your vampire lore."

Sam didn't look abashed, instead he looked simply puzzled. He coked his head to one side and studied his brother thoughtfully. "What?"

Dean's smirk widened. "You read chick books often, Sam?"

"Dean, I don't know what you're…" Sam paused, his eyes widening as something inside of him clicked, it could be the only thing Dean was referring to. "It actually isn't that bad for a book about vampires."

"Come on, Sam."

"I didn't read that much of it, Dean."

"How much is that? Half? How many poor suckers kicked the bucket before you put it down?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It's not like that, Dean – it's," He paused rubbing his thumb along the edge of his chin as he tried to think of something that would fit. "It's different."

"Different?"

"Look, I don't know how to explain it – but they aren't like the real thing, Dean."

"Doesn't surprise me – most people wouldn't know a real vampire until it bit them in the ass."

"Dean," Sam sighed tiredly.

"I'm just saying, Sammy."

"I didn't read that far into it ok? It was just something to do while you were sleeping."

"Why didn't you practice your typing skills?"

Sam's jaw locked and he looked away, toying with a loose strand on the comforter. "I have a hard time seeing the screen, Dean – and it gives me a headache when I've looked at it for more than ten minutes."

All traces of humor drained from Dean's face as though someone had stuck a tube in him. He narrowed his eyes marginally at his brother and clenched his teeth together. "Why didn't you say somethin' earlier, Sam?"

"I don't have to tell you every little thing that bothers me, Dean."

"You always have before."

"Not always."

"Sam, you might have been a stubborn ass about some things – like those freaky visions of yours, but this…" He tapped Sam's wrist with his forefinger gently, drawing Sam's eyes to him. "I already know about, dude, and if something is bothering you, you need to tell me about it."

"You can't help with this, Dean."

"You shouldn't have to feel like you're going through this alone, Sam."

Sam nodded and squinted his eyes, pushing his fingers under the brim of his glasses to rub gently at his eyelids. "I know that – I do, it's just…this is just something I've got to deal with on my own."

"No you don't, Sam."

"Dean, I've just got to figure things out on my own, okay? This is something that you can't save me from – I'm gonna have to face it myself."

Dean frowned as he watched his brother rub at his eyes, his long dark bangs falling over his face and over the tops of his glasses. "You didn't stop reading because you didn't like the story did you, Sam?"

Sam froze, holding his breath. He could feel Dean's penetrating gaze on him and knew he wouldn't be able to bluff his way out of this one. Dean might be in bed with a fever and loaded up on pain medications, but he was in full on big brother mode.

He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's. "No."

"How far did ya get before it got bad, Sam?"

"I don't know – I wasn't really paying attention, it hit me all at once. It was fine one minute and the next it was burning really bad."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"You wouldn't have woken anyway – you were loaded up on pain meds that are designed to knock you out. Besides you needed the rest, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

"And you could?"

"Obviously I did, Dean."

"What'd you do, huh? Stumble around the place until you found your meds?"

"No."

"Well then what? What'd you do to stop it?"

Sam looked away again, toying with the loose strand from the comforter and tugging on it, pulling it loose from the seams.

"Sam?"

"I don't know what happened, Dean."

"You don't know? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," Sam looked up, his eyes angry now. "I don't remember because the next thing I can remember is I was on the floor and looking up at the ceiling."

"You passed out?"

"Maybe."

"Sam! This isn't a maybe kinda thing – if the pain is bad enough it's knockin' you out we need to get it checked out."

"I just over worked them, Dean, that's all."

"Yeah and you just happened to work them so hard that it caused your whole body to shut down." Dean's tone was sharp, worried.

"Can we just drop this, Dean? I'm fine."

"You and fine don't even belong in the same dictionary."

"Look who's talking." Sam muttered softly.

"At least have Jenni take a look."

"No."

"Sam."

"I said no, okay?" Sam rose from his seat and nodded to the tray of torn toast and cooling tea. "You done?"

"Yeah."

"Fine, call me if you need anything. I'll be down the hall."

Dean watched his brother walk slowly out of the room, holding the tray very close to his chest and watching his feet, being careful where he put each one. Sam paused in the hall, grabbed the handle to the door, and closed it almost all the way behind him.

Dean leaned back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw locked, his teeth clenched, and his eyes hardened. "Damn it."

***

Sam set the breakfast tray in the sink but didn't bother to rinse anything off – he'd take care of it later. He walked back out to the living area and curled up on the couch, cushioning his head with his hands.

He stared blankly ahead at the empty fireplace, at the sad remains of what used to be large steady logs. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled his glasses off his face, dropped them gently on the floor, and turned over so he was facing the couch back. He buried his face into the soft material and scrunched his eyes.

He breathed deeply, slowly, hoping to slow his heartbeat. It had started pounding against his ribcage when Dean had deducted that Sam had passed out. He knew he was stressing out his brother and that made him angry – not at Dean, but at himself for not being able to control himself better.

He had known that he was pushing too hard, his body had given him all the signs but he had ignored them. The burning in his eyes had been the last resort, when he had stood up to get something to help with the pain the world had spun around him, making him dizzy. He had reached to grab for the wall but had missed and the next thing he knew he was on his back, looking at the ceiling and wondering what the hell had happened. He had just been grateful that Dean had slept through the whole thing – if Dean had come out to find Sam unconscious on the floor Sam would bet his bottom dollar that he'd be back in the hospital right now.

He had splashed some cool water on his face, drank a strong cup of coffee, and settled back onto the couch simply looking at the page he assumed he had been on before his collapse, not wanting to read the words, but frustrated that all the lines were wavy and melding together – that was when Jenni had returned.

Luckily for him, Jenni had been too preoccupied with groceries and concerns about Dolly to notice that he wasn't feeling all that well. By the time that Dean had joined them in the kitchen Sam had pulled himself together and was feeling more like himself.

The whole episode had worn him out and he had slept soundly, which was why he had been so surprised when he had woken and found Dean's bed empty. He wasn't as on edge as Dean was, but he still was a light sleeper and could be woken by the softest footfall, it had been drilled into them for as long as he could remember – never let your guard down.

Sam knew that was one of the main reasons why Dean slept with a Bowie under his pillow – 'precaution' he had called it, but Sam knew better. Dean hadn't always slept with a knife under his pillow, but it had almost cost them both one night when John had pissed off the wrong people and Dean couldn't get to his .45 fast enough.

Unconsciously, Sam's fingers trailed over a small scar on his collarbone. It had faded with the years, and was now as tan as the rest of his skin, but Sam knew right where to look if he wanted to. The knife wound had been deep – the stitches difficult, he remembered the way Dean had kept his game face on while his hands trembled with the effort of stitching Sam's shoulder together. Beads of sweat had trickled off his chin and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

Two more days had passed before John had returned, but when he did, Sam was still in bed with a fever and Dean had been running around trying to do everything he could think of to bring it down. John hadn't spoken as he had scooped Sam up in his arms, blankets and all, and carried him to the impala. Dean had beaten them out there and had the back door open by the time John got there, he had helped lower Sam inside before running around and joining him in the back, rather than taking his usual spot in the passenger seat.

Sam could still remember Dean's cool hands on his face, holding Sam's head in his lap as John drove to the closest hospital. Dean's soft voice had been a low hum, barely surfacing through Sam's foggy mind and the steady beat that was thrumming from the speakers as it played whatever tape John had pushed into the cassette deck.

He remembered Dean at the hospital, but John had taken off, returning a couple days later, his clothes dirty, his face drawn, and his eyes hard. After that he had stuck right next to both of them, and after Sam had been released he had drilled it into both of their minds that they couldn't let themselves be caught off guard like that again.

Sam had seen the guilt rising with the color in Dean's cheeks, could see his brother hiding behind the soldier that came out whenever John was around. It had made him angry, it was as much his fault as it was Dean's, but Dean was the one taking the brunt of the blame as always.

A few days later, when Sam had been released, he had watched from the window of their motel room as Dean walked to the trunk of the jet black Chevy. He had pulled out a Bowie, tested the edge with his thumb and stuck it in the waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt carefully over it and made his way back to the motel room. John had packed them up later that night and they had been across the country within a week, but that knife was constantly there with Dean, even when he was sleeping, Sam had watched him slip it under his pillow, holding it tightly in his fist, his body perfectly taut and ready for the slightest odd noise.

Dean didn't carry the bulky Bowie with him now, he kept his .45 on him at all times, but Sam knew that Dean kept a small knife hidden in his boot, tucked tightly against his ankle. Dean was never one to be caught unprepared again, if he didn't have at least his gun on him he felt naked.

Sam rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, blinking heavily, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He bet that if he went in and checked Dean's bed, the Bowie would be there, hidden under folds of sheets.

"Sam!"

Sam sighed, closed his eyes briefly then rolled off the couch and to his feet. He knew that if he didn't answer then Dean would just keep calling, or get panicky and do something stupid like come looking for him.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was on the verge of sounding angry as Sam stared down the short hall to the bedrooms.

"What?" Sam snapped back rubbing his fingers against his temple, remembering his glasses on the floor in the living room, then pushed the thought aside again. He wasn't going to go back there to get them unless he absolutely had to.

He entered the bedroom, leaning against the door and staring at the fuzzy outline of his brother across the room.

"She didn't take the car did she?"

Sam ground his jaw and resisted the urge to punch something. "No, Dean, she walked. She knew you'd have a fit if you had the impala."

Dean's bottom lip pushed out in a pout. "Would not."

"You're doing it now, Dean, and she didn't even take it." Sam pointed out.

"Whatever – what time did she say she'd be back?"

Sam shrugged. "The note just said it'd be late. Why?"

"I don't know – it might be nothin' but somethin' she said to me…"

"What?" Sam pushed away from the door and made his way over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "What'd she say, Dean?"

"I don't know really, it's just strange." Dean wrapped his arms around himself, shrugging his shoulders in the same movement.

"What?"

"She asked me if – ah, hell, something's wrong, Sammy."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, last night, when Jenni and I were talking she said she felt like somethin' was gonna happen – something she couldn't control."

Sam shook his head once. "Like what, Dean?"

"It was like what I felt at the hospital, Sam." Dean's voice was soft, lower than a whisper. Sam felt his insides clench.

Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong.

Not ten minutes after Dean had said that Sam had returned with the cup of coffee John had asked for to find his father's lifeless body on the floor, blood soaking into his shirt.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded and looked up to meet Sam's eyes. "We can't let her walk home, Sam."

"Neither of us are in the best condition to drive, Dean."

"You'll have to do it – I can't drive with my leg."

"Dean, you barely let me drive under the best of circumstances." Sam protested.

"Sam, please, just bring her back."

"I'd have to go now – while the light is still good."

"That's fine, just go."

"I'll bring her back, Dean, I promise." Sam rose from the bed, waited for Dean's confirming nod, then walked out of the bedroom as fast as his legs would let him.

***

"I can't believe he sent you to pick me up, Sam." Jenni thundered for what had to be the hundredth time, she stormed from the front door and down to the bedrooms, ready to really let Dean have it.

Sam sighed quietly and closed the door behind him, then followed the raging nurse. He had been lucky, not at all sure which house was Dolly's when he had headed down to pick up Jenni, but had seen her outside, talking to a police officer.

He had laid low, waiting for her to finish. He knew that she had seen him, and half an hour later she had come storming up to the impala, her purse slung over her shoulder and her face a strange shade of violet. Sam would have smiled at the fact that he recognized the color, but he doubted Jenni would appreciate it.

She had insisted on driving, something he should not haven given into. Unfortunately, his already compromised vision was waning, so he'd handed over the keys without arguing. He was sure that Dean would bitch about that later.

In her anger, Jenni had been anything but careful behind the wheel. Sam winced, remembering the large pothole that had made the whole impala dip and screech as her undercarriage hit the asphalt. Dean was definitely going to feel the need to improve Sam's face after he found out.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and started down the hall, ready to come to his brother's defense, but was surprised when he saw Jenni pulling her bedroom door closed quietly. Anxiety was written all over her face when she looked up to meet his eyes.

"Jenni?"

"Not here," Jenni said pointedly as she headed for the kitchen.

Sam was ready to burst into the room to see what was going on – fearing the worst. Maybe the harpy had come for Dean while he'd been gone? He placed a large hand on the doorknob, but stopped when Jenni placed a hand on his forearm, and squeezed gently.

"He's sleeping, Sam."

Sam blinked at her, his mouth slightly agape as his fingers continued to curl around the knob.

"His fever is back, he needs to rest."

Worry instantly creased in Sam's brow and he fought the urge to barge in, Jenni be damned, to check his brother himself. He waited until Jenni disappeared into the kitchen, just out of eyeshot, then pushed the door open.

The room was still fairly light from the late afternoon sun, but Sam could barely see the lump that was his brother. He was nothing more than a mound of blankets, although whether Jenni had covered him up or Dean had buried himself in them Sam wasn't sure. He felt a slight twinge of panic as he heard a slight wheezing sound coming from the direction of the bed, he inched forward, creeping in on silent feet. As he got closer to the bed the wheezy gasps got louder, Sam could hear every struggled intake for air as Dean breathed. He pushed the blankets away from Dean's shoulders and down to his waist, then rested his hand on Dean's chest.

Dean's chest rose and fell easily, giving no indication that he was having trouble breathing, but Sam could still hear the laborious pull. Dean's lungs were having to work extra hard to drag in the oxygen needed to fill them. His eyes trailed to Dean's face, a frown tugged at his mouth as he examined the distressed look on his brother's tanned face. Dean's brow was dotted with perspiration, his eyebrows were knotted together, lines creased around the corners of his eyes, his mouth was slightly open and with each exhale he let out a little wheeze. The freckles across the bridge of Dean's nose stood out in contrast with Dean's skin, something that Sam only really noticed when Dean was too sick to hide it.

He placed a hand on Dean's forehead, his frown deepening as he felt the heat radiating from his brother's skin. Dean leaned into the touch, taking comfort in Sam's cool skin. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and his throat convulsed as he struggled to swallow.

"Dean?" Sam tried, although he knew there wasn't a point. It was clear that Dean was out of it, and wouldn't be coming back to the waking world until his body beat the fever.

"Give him these – they'll help."

Sam jumped, he hadn't heard Jenni return. He berated himself for that – dad would've had his ass.

Always be on your guard, be aware of your surroundings at all times. It'll save your life someday.

Sam smirked at the irony – when didn't John's orders save their lives? It was on a daily basis. He accepted the pain pills and water glass that Jenni was holding out to him. She left him to it, keeping the door open.

Sam sat on the edge of bed, swallowing hard as he looked at the two small pills in his palm. He couldn't tell which kind of painkillers Jenni had given him, his vision was starting to blur from the added stress of driving the impala, and a headache had started right behind his eyes. He blinked slowly and rubbed his thumb against the pills, then turned to his brother, chewing on his lip doubtfully.

He set the water glass down on the floor next to his feet and cupped the hand not holding the pills under Dean's neck.

Dean's wheezy breathing seemed to grow louder as his head was lifted off the pillow, making Sam's body tremble in alarm. He was barely able to keep his hold on his brother, but somehow managed to keep Dean upright and to get the pills into Dean's mouth.

Dean's lips pursed and he acquired a sour look as the pills hit his tongue. Sam knew, conscious or not, Dean was close to spitting them out. He grabbed the water glass and held it to Dean's mouth, tipping it slightly.

Water ran around the edges of Dean's mouth and off his chin, but his lips parted. Sam poured slowly and steadily, not wanting to make Dean choke. The water pooled in Dean's mouth, building as he refused to swallow.

"Come on, Dean." Sam muttered, pulling the cup away. "Swallow it, come on." He encouraged his brother to swallow by rubbing his throat gently.

Dean tried to get away from the odd sensation, but Sam held him firm and continued to rub. Dean's throat convulsed slightly with the first swallow, but he didn't have a problem with the next few it required to swallow the pool building in his mouth. Sam lifted the cup again, helping Dean to finish off the cup.

Dean stirred slightly, his eyebrows pulling together and his eyelids lifting slightly. Sam looked into the glassy jade eyes and smiled. "Hey, Dean."

"Get her?"

"Yeah she's here."

"Good." Dean's eyes closed again and he was asleep within seconds. Sam put the back of his hand against his brother's brow one more time, frowned then rose from the bed. He'd be back in to check on Dean in a little while. Right now he'd let him rest.

He left the room quietly, closing the door behind him. He could hear Jenni in the kitchen, from the sounds of it moving pots and pans around. Sam padded down the hall quietly, being cautious, knowing that she still wasn't in that great a mood. The only reason she hadn't blown up at Dean was because his fever was back and he was unconscious. Sam wasn't sure if he felt that Dean or Jenni had gotten off easier.

Dean was never one to just sit around and take a mauling, verbal or physical, without dishing some back. Jenni was not in her league with Dean, but Sam knew better than to try and stop her. That would be asking for trouble.

He entered the kitchen, placing the cup Jenni had brought into the bedroom into the sink.

"He still sleeping?"

"Yeah," Sam turned his back to the sink, running a hand through his messy hair.

Jenni was standing in front of the fridge, the freezer door open. "You have dinner?"

"No, Dean hadn't been awake that long when he sent me to get you."

Jenni nodded and pulled out the bag of frozen chicken thighs. She made a face then put them back inside the freezer and shut the door. She opened the fridge instead and pulled out the roast she had set in there to help it thaw. She set the package onto the counter and reached into one of the cabinets, pulling out a sorry looking crock pot.

"What the hell is going on with him, Jenni? What's with the fever?" Sam scowled at the floor while Jenni straightened up with the crock pot and put it on the counter.

"It could be a couple things, Sam. Could be an infection, he could have busted some stitches we haven't seen, blood loss, stress, any of those could account for it." Jenni filled a glass measuring cup with water and poured it into the pot then plugged the cord into the socket. She reached into the spice cabinet and extracted a couple items wrapped in gold foil that Sam didn't recognize. She dropped both of them into the pot and added a few basil leaves, then stirred the contents around with wooden spoon. "But, honestly, I think he's gotten the fever because he's been overdoing it. Once he gets some rest the fever should go away."

Sam watched as Jenni ripped open the plastic covering and transferred the heavy roast to the crock pot. A few drops of blood splattered the counter but Jenni ignored those as she dropped the meat's plastic container into the garbage and headed for the sink to wash her hands.

"Pot roast ok?"

"Anything's fine, Jenni." Sam doubted it would matter. He wasn't hungry anyway.

Jenni glanced over her shoulder at him as she shut off the tap and shook the excess water droplets from her hands. "He'll be fine, Sam, once he gets some rest. The fever isn't high enough to worry – yet."

"Yet." Sam grimaced. He headed for the closest chair he could find and sank into it, drumming his fingers against the tabletop.

Jenni was pulling potatoes out of a small brown bag and was setting them by the sink to be washed.

"Dinner won't be ready for a while, a few hours at least."

"That's fine."

"You should go get some rest, Sam, you aren't looking that great yourself."

Sam frowned and stared at the floor, his fingers continuing their drumming. He wasn't about to admit that he didn't feel all that great either. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, and his eyes were beginning to burn. He really wanted to go sleep for a while, but he didn't want to leave Dean alone. Dean hated being alone – especially while he was sick.

"Sam?"

"Yeah – you're probably right." Sam agreed standing up and leaning heavily on the table for a moment.

Jenni wasn't looking at him anymore, she was counting the potatoes silently, mentally calculating and tapping a forefinger against her palm.

"Jenni?"

"Yeah, Sam?" Jenni grabbed a couple more potatoes then slid the potato bag back into it's place. She flipped the tap onto cold and started scrubbing the potatoes.

"You don't think it's an infection do you?"

Jenni shook her head, not looking up from what she was doing. "Sam, I honestly don't think it's an infection – like I said I think Dean's just overdone it. He's been up and about a lot lately, that was bound to take it's toll on him. His body is still trying to recover from the attack. The wounds were serious, whether Dean's willing to acknowledge that or not, the fever is just a reaction to all the moving around. When he gets some rest the fever should die down. Get me the lettuce head and onion in the fridge will ya?"

Sam opened the fridge, easily finding both items in the crisper. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the fresh onion – it was even stronger than it was after Dean had had extra onions on his hamburger.

"You don't like onions?" Jenni had stopped scrubbing the potatoes and was drying her hands on a paper towel, she hadn't missed the wrinkled nose.

Sam offered her a small grin. "I don't mind them – Dean loves them, I have to ride in the car with him after he eats them."

Jenni laughed as she tossed the paper towel onto the counter. "I can see how that would put you off."

"Onions don't really agree with him, I have to keep the window rolled down."

Jenni laughed again. "Bet he loves that. We'll just make sure his salad is onion free."

Sam chuckled. "Good luck, he can smell onions a mile away." Sam yawned, and stretched out his back muscles. He glanced at his watch then back at the crock pot. "What time is dinner gonna be ready?"

Jenni checked the clock over the stove. "Probably around eight or so. That gives you a few hours to get some rest, Sam."

Sam blinked slowly at her, his mouth pulling down in a frown. "I don't…"

"Sam, I'm not trying to tell you to do it – heaven knows you don't have to, but you should." Jenni said lightly.

Sam hated to admit it but he was tired, he was finding it harder than ever to focus his vision.

"I'll check on Dean periodically if you want, but I think you've strained your eyes enough for one day. Driving the car wasn't the best idea, that's bound to have it's setbacks."

Sam nodded and started slowly from the kitchen. He wasn't about to argue – why push something when it was already limited?

As he headed down the hall he paused, hand on the door to the brothers' shared bedroom, looking back at Jenni's room, debating. He glanced quickly over his shoulder then went into Jenni's bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light as he headed for the bed.

Dean's breathing was still wheezy, the sound put Sam on edge, making him uneasy. Something was off – even when Dean had been sick before he had never had to strain so hard for air. Sam padded along the floor on the balls of his feet, chewing on his lip.

He sat on the small chair next to the bed and leaned forward, placing the back of his hand on Dean's brow. It was slick with sweat and still too warm for Sam's liking.

Dean blinked awake at the contact, his eyelids opened part way, and his eyes slide over to his brother.

"Hey," Sam said softly giving his brother a half smile.

"'S called personal space, dude."

Sam laughed and pulled his hand back, but didn't sit back in the chair. His eyes quickly skimmed over Dean's face, not satisfied with how pale Dean looked, even in the fading evening light.

"Do I pass inspection?"

"The jury is still out on that one."

Dean lifted an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

"What?"

"Nothin', gonna say you look like crap."

"Look who's talkin'."

Dean took in a deep shuddering breath, his lungs still wheezing with the effort.

"Are you feelin' ok, Dean?"

"Freakin' peachy."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Yeah – I bet."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be honest for once."

"Honesty? Ok," Dean paused taking in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, looked Sam in the eye, and said with a sly smirk. "I'm fine, Sam."

"Dean," Sam groaned.

"You expect me to be up doing a jiggy dance? Kinda hard to do with this leg, dude." He began as he pushed aside the blankets.

"Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?"

Dean lifted an eyebrow incredulously. "To the can – I think I can manage that. I've been able to go to the bathroom on my own before you were born, I don't need you to hold my hand, Samantha."

Sam frowned but moved aside as Dean got gingerly to his feet, tested his weight on his injured leg, then began limping to the bathroom. The door closed with a little more force than necessary, making it rattle on it's hinges for a moment, Sam hovered by the door, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Sam, I promise if I fall in I'll call you, you don't need to hover by the door."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you know I was by the door?"

"Where else would you be, your freakin' mother henning me."

Sam huffed and walked back to the bed, sitting on the corner closest to the bathroom, ready to spring up if he was needed.

It wasn't necessary, Dean emerged a few minutes later, and although his skin had taken on a green tone he was still walking under his own steam. Dean settled back onto the bed, Sam jumped up and propped the pillows up behind his back. Dean leaned against them, his eyes closed, breathing slowly through his nose.

"Can I get you something?"

Dean opened his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Nah, I'm good."

"You hungry? Jenni's fixing dinner but it won't be ready for a few hours."

Dean's eyes sparked with the mention of food. "You got her back ok then?"

"Course, she isn't happy with you though." Sam didn't see the point in reminding Dean that he had already told him this. He knew Dean had been really out of it when he told him the first time.

"Figured she wouldn't be." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, well, you figured right."

"She's alive, that's what's important."

Sam's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "You didn't think she would be?"

"I don't know, Sam." Dean's eyes were closed again.

"Dean, you must've had some reason to think that she wouldn't be."

"It's nothin', Sam, forget it."

"Fine, so you hungry – or you want to wait for dinner?"

"We gotta pack a cards somewhere don't we, Sammy?"

"Uh, yeah, in your duffel."

"Bet I could whip your ass at poker."

"I bet you could."

"Bet you a week's worth of tunes."

"Anything I wanted?"

"Anything – it's up for grabs."

"You're on." Sam rose from the bed and hurried to the bedroom to grab the deck. He was back in record time, using his thumb to fan the cards.

Dean smirked and sat up a little straighter, hiding the grimace of pain as he adjusted himself to a good playing position.

Sam sat in front of his brother and began shuffling the cards.

"So what are you gonna give me when I win?" Dean teased.

Sam's chest vibrated with a low growl. "Not gonna happen, Dean. You're off your game, big brother."

"Am not – I can still kick your ass."

"I'd like to see that." Sam began dealing the cards.

"So, what are we bettin'? Tune privileges for what?"

"If you win – I'll buy all the food for the next two weeks."

"Fair enough – none of that rabbit food though."

"Whatever you want."

"Awesome." Dean flipped up his hand and pulled the corners of his mouth down in a frown.

Sam studied his sibling, knowing all too well that Dean was a master at keeping his game face on. He wasn't going to be fooled.

"Give me two." Dean slapped two cards down by the deck.

Sam drew two new cards and handed them to his brother, taking three cards for himself.

"Hope your wallet's full, dude." Dean grinned dropping his hand to reveal three kings and two queens.

Sam groaned and dropped his own useless pile onto Dean's he had only had a pair of eights. He began dealing the next hand. "How many hands we playing before we decide who wins?"

"We're gonna keep track?"

"It would defeat the purpose if we didn't wouldn't it?"

"How about the one who wins the most before dinner is ready?"

"Dean, that's not gonna be for hours, you don't really wanna…" He trailed off as he saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch. "You are so going down."

"Bring it on, Sammy."

***

It was quarter after eight before Sam finally emerged from the bedroom, shaking his head and slumping his shoulders as he headed for the kitchen. Dean had whipped him, just as he had predicted – he was going to have to figure out where he could get his hands on enough cash to buy enough food to satisfy his brother for two weeks.

Dean had been able to bluff his way through several hands where Sam could have won, but he hadn't wanted to take the chances, and he was paying for that now. He smirked a little as he thought about the past few hours, Dean was very good at what he did, it was no wonder people often accused him of cheating. Dean came off as someone who didn't know jack squat about poker, but he was an expert player, knowing the best times to take chances and when to bluff his way through.

Dean had taken on a tired look as the cabin filled with the smells of cooking meat and bubbling fat. He had managed to kick Sam's ass in one more round before he had called it – Sam didn't even want to remember the score. His wins were outweighed by far with Dean's wins.

He entered the kitchen, looking to see if dinner was ready yet. Dean had started complaining of hunger pains, and Sam was willing to do anything to get Dean to shut up about it.

"Hey, Sam, you guys have fun?" Jenni asked as she pulled the last of the baked potatoes out of the oven. True to her word, Jenni had come in to check on Dean, and had been mildly surprised when she had seen both brothers sitting up and playing with a deck of cards. She had left them to it, and had returned to the living area with her book.

"If you can call it that."

"Dean kicked your ass huh?"

"That's putting it mildly – I owe him food for the next two weeks."

Jenni laughed and dug a knife and fork out of the cutlery drawer. She began cutting the tops off the baked potatoes and scooping the insides out into a large metal bowl, setting the empty shells onto a cookie sheet.

"Do me a favor and get the sharp cheese and milk from the fridge will ya?"

"Sure." Sam retrieved the requested items and set them onto the counter beside Jenni.

"You want to grate the cheese? The more help I get the faster dinner will be done. Grater is in the cupboard next to the sink."

Sam pulled the grater from it's spot and took the cheese out of it's plastic bag. "How much did you want?"

"Grate half of what we have left." Jenni frowned as she cut open another potato. The butter knife slipped and sliced into the soft shell. "Damn it."

Sam began to grate the cheese, working the block slowly up and down. "You putting this in the potatoes?"

"I'm making potatoes on the half shell." Jenni explained distractedly as she opened the last potato and dumped the contents into the bowl. She started searching through the cabinets, trying to find her electric mixer. She found it hidden in behind the stovetop pans.

Sam shook the cheese grater and ran his fingers along the inside to make sure that none of the cheese had stuck to it. "Anything else?"

"Grab a tray for Dean. We'll take him something, I'm sure he's hungry."

"Course, when isn't he?" Sam joked, earning him a light swat on the arm as he passed the petite nurse.

Jenni scooped most of the grated cheese into her palms and dumped it into the bowl, plugged in the electric mixer, and beat the contents together. The mixture immediately turned a bright orange as the cheese melted against the hot potatoes. She twisted the cap on the milk jug and poured enough milk in to help the potatoes get fluffy.

Sam grabbed the ice tray from the freezer and began to beat it against the basin of the sink. A few cubes popped loose, he grabbed them before they could fall into the basin or down the drain and dropped them into a tall glass, which he filled with water.

Jenni turned the mixer off and began to scoop the fluffy orange potatoes back into the shells, filling each one until the shells looked ready to split. When each one was full she topped them off with some of the leftover grated cheese and stuck them back into the oven.

"What are you gonna do with the rest of that?" Sam nodded to the bowl that still had plenty of potato mixture in it.

"Grandma used to call this leftover potato filling." Jenni joked, pulling a small flat dish from the cupboard and spooning the last of the mixture into it. She spread the last of the cheese over it and stuck it in the oven beside the cookie sheet. "There, those should be ready in ten minutes – so dinner will be ready then."

Sam sat at the table, drumming his fingers against the surface as Jenni rinsed out the bowl and scrubbed the cheese grater.

"Something bothering you, Sam?"

"Hmm? No, why?"

"You just seem kinda edgy is all." Jenni wiped her hands on her jeans and joined Sam at the table, leaning back against her chair and letting out a tired sigh.

"Jenni, are you going back to Dolly's tomorrow?"

"Yes, actually, I was planning on heading back first thing in the morning. Why?"

Sam frowned chewing on his bottom lips thoughtfully. "Nothin', I guess. It's just somethin' Dean said earlier."

"What did he say?"

"It's not important – I'm sure it's nothin'."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Is that the reason you came to get me, Sam? Because Dean said something?"

"He asked me to, so I did. End of story."

It was Jenni's turn to frown. "This doesn't have anything to do with what I told him last night does it?"

"I think it does – he mentioned it."

"Huh, that's strange."

"What is?"

"This morning when I left for Dolly's the feeling was gone – must've been a fluke or something."

"Maybe, doesn't hurt to be careful though."

"No, you're right. Dean didn't seem too concerned about it last night, but he must be good at keeping a straight face."

"You haven't seen him play poker."

Jenni laughed. "So what are you gonna do about the bet?"

"Honestly? I have no idea – I'll have to rustle up some money somewhere."

"Does helping in the kitchen count as your two weeks?"

"I doubt it. Dean's idea of food is a burger dripping with enough grease to soak ten paper take out bags."

"Is that all you guys eat?"

"That's all he usually eats. We can't really afford to go out to nice places all that often."

"Hmm," Jenni didn't have more of an answer to that, because the timer on the stove went off and she hurried over to pull the potatoes from the oven.

The cheese had melted over the edges of the potato skins, and made large orange puddles around each potato, each one bubbling from the heat.

Jenni grabbed a pancake turner and slid it under one of the potatoes and slid it onto a plate. She then took the plate to the crock pot, lifted the glass lid and breathed in deeply as the rich smell filled the kitchen. She grabbed an extra long fork, stabbed it right into the middle of the meat and lifted it quickly and carefully onto a prepared dish, then pulled the plug from the outlet.

Sam's stomach growled loudly at the appetizing smells that were filling the kitchen. He watched as Jenni pulled a bit of stringy meat from the roast and set it on the plate, then added some of the salad she had made earlier to the plate and set it on the tray for Dean.

"You wanna eat in here or in the bedroom with Dean?"

"Uh," Sam began.

"In the bedroom would probably be better, just in case." Jenni answered for him, pulling another plate from the cupboard and began loading it with the pot roast, potatoes, and salad. She easily balanced both dishes on the tray and eyed Dean's water glass.

"You want somethin' to drink, Sam? Grab whatever you want." Jenni left the kitchen, loaded tray in her hands.

Sam stared at her for a moment, then walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He popped the top and tossed it in the general direction of the garbage can before heading out of the kitchen.

He could hear Jenni and Dean as he entered the hall and suppressed a smile, it sounded like Dean was teasing her and Jenni was ready to smack him.

"No, Dean, you don't get both – one is for your brother."

"So why are you handing both to me?"

"Dean, don't be an ass."

"I'm just sayin', Jenni."

"Well, don't. Sam's on his way and he's hungry too."

"Well, he better hurry his ass up or this is gonna be gone."

"Dean, don't do that. That's your brother's."

Dean said something that sounded muffled, Sam had no doubt in his mind that Dean had his mouth stuffed full of the food that had been brought to him.

Sam entered the bedroom, swinging his beer bottle down by his hip. Dean was scooping the potatoes out of the potato shell, and Jenni was saving Sam's plate from Dean's reach.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed as soon as he saw his brother, swallowing the bulging mouthful and grinning at him. "You've gotta try these potatoes, dude."

Sam accepted the plate Jenni held out to him with a silent smile and sat on the bedside chair, propping his legs up onto the edge of the bed, and setting his plate on his lap and his beer on the floor. Jenni left the brothers alone and headed back to the kitchen to eat her own dinner.

Sam dug his fork into the bubbling potato and scooped up a forkful of the whipped potatoes and melted cheese. Dean was busy tearing the shell apart and was scraping his fork along the edge, trying to get as much out his potato as he could.

Sam had to admit that he'd never had anything like these, and they were pleasantly enjoyable. He helped himself to another forkful while Dean, who had finally decided that there was nothing left but a tired old potato shell, had started in on his pot roast and garden salad.

They ate in silence, Sam staring at his plate while Dean toyed with the stringy meat on his.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean finally broke the silence, he was stirring around the limp green leaves of his salad.

"Hmm?" Sam asked distracted as he looked up at his brother.

"Is she going back? To Dolly's I mean?"

"She said she was, I expect the viewing is coming up in the next couple days – there is still a lot to do."

"They're really gonna have a viewing?" Dean blanched dropping his fork and staring at his brother in shock.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know – they might."

"Sam, did you see that body? He wasn't in the best of shape after that harpy attack."

"His face wasn't that damaged, Dean. I'm sure that they stitched him up – it's not like he'll be naked."

"I guess," Dean didn't look convinced and slowly picked up his fork, tapping it against the edge of his plate.

Sam forked his pot roast and lifted it to his mouth, chewing slowly on the soft juicy meat as he watched his brother. His brows pulled together as Dean ignored the rest of his dinner, instead merely toying with it. That was anything but Dean like behavior. He swallowed and leaned down to pick up his beer, taking a sip – glanced over to the open door then offered the bottle to his brother.

"Thanks," Dean muttered accepting the bottle and taking a quick sip before handing it back. Sam set it back on the floor and shoved the tips of his fork through his salad greens, and lifted them to his mouth.

"You still have that feeling, Dean?"

"What? No – at least, I don't think so." Dean was looking uncomfortable, shifting slightly on the bed.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, Sam, somethin' just feels off is all."

Sam drew his lips into his mouth, tightening them into a hard line. He had learned to trust Dean's judgment in these kind of things, just as Dean had learned to trust his. If Dean said something felt off something was off.

"Like what?" Sam finally asked after several minutes of tense silence.

"I don't know – it just seems strange that we'd get that feeling last night but nothing happened, don't you think?"

"I guess."

Dean glared at him and his own lips tightened slightly.

"Maybe it's nothin', Dean. Or maybe because I picked Jenni up nothin' happened to her. I'm sure there was a reason you had that feeling, I don't doubt that, but maybe we avoided whatever it was supposed to be this time?"

"Maybe," Dean didn't look convinced as he picked up the last of his pot roast and put it into his mouth. He pushed his plate away, Sam noted that the salad, other than being stirred around, was untouched.

"You want some more?" Sam asked as he finished the last of his salad, and had to admit that Jenni made a good garden salad, even if it did have onions.

"No, I'm good."

"You feelin' ok?" Sam asked, his eyes narrowing automatically in concern.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

Sam leaned over to put his hand on Dean's forehead to check his fever, but Dean batted his hand away.

"How's the pain?"

"It's fine."

"We should change the dressings."

"In the morning."

"Dean," Sam began but stopped when he took a good look at his brother.

Dean looked tired, dark bags hung under his eyes, his face looked flushed, the freckles against his cheeks and nose stood out against his pale skin. His usually spiked but disarrayed hair was flat against his head, except in the back where it was still mussed from sleep. He was sitting in a slouched over position, his shoulders slumped, his hands were resting on his lap, utterly relaxed. Sam frowned as Dean tipped his head back so it rested on to the top of the pillows, angling his head so it was tilted towards the ceiling.

"You should get some sleep." Sam finally said setting his plate on the floor and lifting the tray and dinner plate from Dean's legs, setting them on the floor as well.

Dean didn't wait for Sam to help him to lie down. He grabbed one of the pillows he was propped up against and slid down the bed, hissing as his leg throbbed.

Sam frowned at his stubborn sibling as he grabbed the extra pillow and set it on the other side of Dean. "Dean, are you sure you're…"

"Sam, you finish that sentence and I swear to God…" Dean trailed off, not bothering to open his eyes.

Sam couldn't help it, he laughed softly and bent down to pick up their dinner dishes and his beer bottle. He left his brother to sleep and walked slowly down the hall, trying hard not to drop the tray as he could hardly see where he was going.

He was rather pleased with himself when he managed to get into the kitchen with his loaded tray and set it by the sink.

Jenni looked up from her book, then quickly dropped it onto the table. The binding was worn from having been read so many times that it easily held her place. "Oh, Sam, why didn't you let me know you guys were done?"

"It's fine, Jenni, I've got it." Sam insisted scraping Dean's untouched salad into the basin.

"I'll clean up, Sam, just leave them by the sink." Jenni said as she pulled the aluminum foil from the draw and dropped the pot roast on it. She did the same with the potatoes and stuck both in the fridge.

"I don't mind," Sam said as he rinsed the plate under the warm water.

He felt a soft hand on his arm and glanced down at it for a moment before lift his eyes to meet Jenni's.

"Sam, you should go get some sleep. I can take care of things in here."

Sam hesitated, but under Jenni's unrelenting eyes he finally handed over the dish and nodded slightly to her. Jenni smiled and used one hand to move all the lettuce leaves and vegetables down the drain then plugged it up with the stopper and let the sink start to fill up with the warm water, squirting some dishwashing soap into it.

"How early were you gonna head out tomorrow?"

"Around seven or so, we still have a lot to do." Jenni didn't look up from the rapidly filling sink.

"Night, Jenni."

"Night, Sam."

Sam looked into Jenni's bedroom once more to check on Dean. Dean was out cold, lying on his side with his back to the door. His breathing was deep and even, the wheezing from before had finally stopped. Sam let out a silent sigh of relief and headed for his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As he sprawled out on the bed he could hear Jenni working in the kitchen, the clatter of plates as they fell into the basin, the swishing of the water, and the soft soprano tone as Jenni hummed quietly to herself. He found the sounds oddly comforting, and it wasn't long before they lulled him into a deep sleep.

***

He was woken by a large hand on his shoulder, and someone's ragged breathing by his left ear. He frowned, and tried to roll away, but the hand was insistent and shook him roughly.

"Sammy, wake up."

Sam's eyes popped open and he blinked furiously, trying to bring the room into focus – getting slightly panicky when it remained dark.

"Sam!"

"What?" Sam grumbled lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, hoping that would help clear his vision.

"You've gotta go get, Jenni."

"What?" Sam's eyes slowly drifted to the alarm clock and lifted when he saw it was only quarter to six. No wonder it was still dark, it wasn't his eyes, the sun hadn't come up yet and Dean hadn't turned the light on.

"What the hell are you doin' in here?" Sam demanded sitting up in the bed and grabbing Dean's arms, he could feel the muscles in his brother's body trembling as Dean struggled to keep himself upright.

"Sam, please." Dean's voice sounded weak and strained. At that exact moment his knees buckled and he fell to the floor in a heap.

"Dean!" Sam was out of the bed and next to his brother's side in seconds, gently sliding his hands under Dean's armpits and helping Dean onto the bed he had just been occupying.

Dean's whole body was trembling, his breathing still ragged, but his eyes were wide and wild. Sam could see that even in the dim light from the moon.

Sam placed a hand on Dean's forehead, concerned when Dean didn't push him away. "Damn it, Dean, your fever is back. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Sam," Dean gasped grabbing at Sam's arms and pulling himself up slightly, Sam pushed him back against the mattress again, a little roughly this time.

"Stay there." Sam ordered, he tried to hurry through the bedroom, but found it hard to do in the dark. He managed to stub his toe and run into the door on the way out. He cursed both times and finally found the light switch. He flipped it on as he left the room and hurried down the hall to the kitchen to get some pain killers and water.

By the time he returned Dean was struggling to get out of bed, and was halfway there. His legs were hanging over the edge, but his elbows were resting on his knees and his head was hanging low. His breathing had picked up a notch, blowing it into hyperventilation.

"Dean!" Sam hurried to his brother's side, lifting his brother's legs back onto the bed, and pulling the covers over him. "I told you to stay here, damn it."

"Sam," Dean's glassy eyes trailed to Sam's. "You've gotta go get Jenni."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"She left early – Dolly called, said she thought she heard a prowler. Didn't take the car – Sam, go get her."

"Dean, you're sick – I'm sure you just had a…"

"No, she left a note on the bed." Dean held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Sam took it and read through it quickly, he frowned as a sinking feeling made his stomach drop.

Dean and Sam,

Dolly called – thought she heard a prowler. Asked me to come down while she waited for the cops to show. I'll be back late again. Leftovers in the fridge.

--Jenni

"Go get her, Sammy."

"Dean, I don't think we should…she wasn't very happy when I picked her up yesterday."

"Damn it, Sam, don't argue with me. Please, just go get her."

"Dean, I don't think I should – it's still dark out there, I can hardly see."

"Impala has lights, dude."

"Dean, I really don't think I…"

"Sam, please – I don't like this. Just go pick her up, just make sure she's ok. Please?"

Sam frowned but nodded. He couldn't argue, Dean sounded so desperate – so terrified. "You sure?"

"Yeah, just be careful, Sammy."

"I'll be back soon." Sam promised. He dumped a couple painkillers into his hand and handed them to Dean. "You need to take these – they'll help with the fever."

Dean accepted the pills and nodded. "Go, Sam."

Sam hurried his step, quickly found the keys where Jenni had tossed them the night before and hurried into the predawn morning air. He struggled in his haste to get the keys into the ignition, and he cursed his trembling hands.

As soon as the engine started Sam was pulling the gear into reverse and slamming his foot against the break. The tires squealed and stalled but finally found traction and the classic flew from the drive. Sam sent another panicked glance towards the direction of the cabin as he shifted the gear into drive and drove down the street, it soon blurred in his rearview until he couldn't see it, leaving only a cloak of darkness. He trembled as a cold shiver ran up his spine, he ignored it as he turned back to face the road, slamming his foot still harder against the gas.