3 Days Earlier...
Dean slouched absentmindedly in the hard wooden chair, tossing a wadded up ball of paper up and then catching it again. He was absolutely, one hundred percent, bored.
Sam wandered into the library, swaying heavily with sleep. Dean bolted upright, "Sammy, You find anything?"
Sam gave Dean a look, "What?"
"A case? Come one, Sam, a vamp nest, werewolf? Demon, some virgin with a dragon chasing her?" the last phrase was uttered with a lilt in his voice.
"Dean, I just woke up. How should I know? You been up longer then me haven't you looked?"
Dean groaned and flopped himself back into the chair, "I did, there's absolutely nothing at all. Not even some run of the mill ghost. Its like all monsters decided to rip van winkle us."
Sam chuckled, scratching at his arm, "That's not a bad thing you know. "
Dean just slid don in the chair even more dramatically, "I'm freaking bored, Sam!"
"Read a book."
"Did that."
"Clean."
"Did that."
"Do laundry."
A dirty look was shot at Sam, "Do your own laundry, last time I did all I heard was, 'You can't wash towels and sweatshirts at the same time!' "
Sam leaned forward irritated, "There was nothing but lint on my clothes, Dean!"
Dean rolled his eyes, "You're such a princess."
"And you're an asshole."
Dean ignored the jab and cocked his head, "What's with the sleeping in till nine anyway. you're usually up with the friggen' roosters."
Sam shook his head tiredly, "Nothing, just tired."
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, "You sick or something?"
Sam glared at him, fists clenching under the table, "What? No Dean, I'm just tired. Can't I be just tired? Why is it everything has to be some sort of problem?"
Dean narrowed his eyes further at his brother. Sam was not usually this easily riled. Annoyed yes, but this was not the same. He wanted to pursue it, but decided to drop the subject. "Sorry, sorry. Imma make breakfast. You use your freaky internet skills and see if you can find us a case." He got up from the table and made his way to the kitchen. Maybe he was just tired. Pancakes will help. Pancakes always help.
Sam watched his brother go, breathing a sigh of relief when he disappeared from view. He looked down at his clenched fists and slowly, painfully opened his fingers. Bright red bits of blood sat atop the half moon marks his fingernails had dug into his palms. His hands shook with light but visible tremors. The skin of his arms itched like crazy. Like a million mosquito bites right to the bone.
He wasn't okay. It had started two days ago, with the itch he could never relieve. The nightmares he could never remember but would leave him shaking in his bed, soaked in a cold sweat. The tremors that slowly but surely were growing worse. The headache that always pounded in his temples.
He couldn't tell Dean. Not yet. He would, but not yet, not until he had an idea of what was going on with him. He knew it was stupid, a part of his mind screamed at him, "You idiot Dean can help!" But he couldn't, not until he had more information.
But by then it could be too late
A/N I'm sorry this is so short, I'm still working out the full plot and kinks out of this.