A/N: Again thank you all so much for reviewing. You guys are amazing. Again, thanks to the beta. I love you lots. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry in advance 'cause it's kind of short. Please do not shoot me.

See first chapter for disclaimer.

My Brother's Keeper

Chapter 7: Feeling It

Sam woke slowly, trying to get his bearings together before he opened his eyes. When he did finally look around he felt a jolt of panic. He was still on the couch, but he was alone. He breathed a sigh of relief when his father came into the room.

"Sam? Are you okay?" John asked. He was immediately concerned when he saw his son's awake, but pale face.

The boy countered his father's question with one of his own, "Have you found Dean?"

"Didn't have to. He came back about ten minutes ago."

"He did?" Sam's face seemed to get even whiter.

"I have him secured upstairs. He won't be wakin' up for a while. I know what you mean, though. Your brother definitely wasn't himself." John fought back the urge to shudder when he remembered Dean's excitement when recounting the 'lesson' he gave to Sam.

"Do you think it's Dean, or something else?" Sam asked. He was pretty sure it was something in his brother's body, but he wanted his father's opinion.

"I think it's Dean. Just, not our Dean."

"Do you think he's okay?" Sam's voice was small when he asked and his damaged vocal cords didn't help the sound any.

'Not if he knows what he's been doin' to you.' John thought, knowing better than to say it out loud. He settled on, "I hope so, Sammy." He sighed, rubbing his hand over tired eyes.

"What are we gonna do about it?"

John looked at his son and felt a deep sadness. The teenager should not have been sitting there, holding back a grimace as he tried to find a way to de-evil his brother. It just wasn't fair. But John couldn't think like that. Life could not be fair if he wanted his boys to survive it. That's just the way it was for their small family.

"You up to helping me?" he asked.

Sam started to nod his head, but putting his hand to his head, he thought better of it. "Yeah."

"Okay."

Hours had passed with Sam looking over books and his father calling his contacts. They were making progress with what Sam had remembered and the research they were making. The silence they had been working in was broken by a growling noise. John's head snapped to where the sound was coming from. Sam. The boy was propped up on a bunch of pillows with a large book in his lap. He was giving his stomach a quizzical look.

John could have kicked himself when the sound was repeated, "When was the last time you ate?"

"I dunno." Sam answered, rubbing his stomach with the hand that wasn't bound up in a sling.

John grit his teeth at his own stupidity. One hell of a father he made. He got up and reached for the book his son had been reading, "Okay. Break time."

"I can still-"

John cut off the protest. He sat the closed book down well out of Sam's reach. "You are going to eat something and then rest. No arguments."

"Yes, sir."

A sandwich and a bottle of water were the best he could offer, but Sam finished neither.

"Sam, by eating, I meant eating enough to keep you going."

"I don't feel so good." Sam whispered, sliding further down into the pillows.

"What, like nauseous?"

"Yeah." came his miserable reply.

John frowned, not liking it, but not knowing how to help. He hated feeling helpless. "Okay Sammy." He took the plate away, but left the water. He intended to get more of it into the injured boy.

John sent up a silent thanks to whoever was listening when he returned to find Sam asleep. While he was thankful that his son was finding a reprieve, he was not happy to lose the boy's company. It just gave him more time to think of how badly he had screwed up, and how it had almost cost Sam his life. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he had come even five minutes later. He felt sick when he remembered wanting to stop for gas before coming home. It would have killed him to find his baby dead, hanging from the ceiling.

The older hunter's heart was already hurting from thinking about how it all could have been avoided. He was sure now that whatever happened to Dean had happened on their last hunt, most likely when he had blacked out. If John had stuck to his guns and stayed home he would have realized that something was wrong. That one simple act could have saved both of his sons a great deal of pain. He definitely wasn't getting the 'Father of the Year Award' anytime soon.

With a sigh John turned away from Sam and back to his research. He couldn't look at the boy without seeing the bruises covering his young face. The bruises brought on the guilt and John couldn't focus with that kind of guilt gnawing at his soul. If he wanted to help both of his sons he needed to save Dean. The rest could be fixed later.

TBC