Disclaimer: blah blah blah... I don't own Supernatural, or the boys... blah blah blah.

Rated PG-13 for violence acts, gruesome imagery, and some language

"God damn it Sam, not again!" Dean stood, watching the shivers wracked his brother's body. Cold. He's cold, so I should make him warm! Dean gathered his brother in the sheets, carrying him to the bathroom. Setting him on the floor gently, he turned the bathtub faucets on full blast. Dean gathered his little brother in the sheets, rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm him while the tub filled.

Come on… come on! Dean watched the water inch up, willing it to move faster. Glancing at Sam, he saw his fears were already reality. His lips were turning blue, his eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. A thin layer of frost had appeared on his cheeks and his breathing became even more labored as he tried to get oxygen past the ice in his throat. Dean decided he had waiting long enough.

"Come on Sammy. You're doing great, little guy. Let's just get you into this warm water." Dean struggled to lift his brother, whose chill seemed to penetrate the sheets now. He lowered Sam into the tub, water sloshing over the edge. Sam cried out in pain as the water touched his skin. The sheets ballooned out against the water, then quickly sunk to the bottom, sucking up the water.

Dean kneeled next to the bathtub, holding his brother by the shoulder to keep him from drowning. "Come on Sam." Slowly, Sam's spasms faded to a small shiver with a slight jerk every few seconds. Dean sat, unable to think of what else to do. He placed two fingers on his neck, feeling apulse. It was faint, but there. He stared at his pale brother, still shaking despite the heat the water gave off. What the hell is going on Sammy? "Come on… help me out, little brother." A tear threatened to fall from his eye. "I don't know what to do."

Minutes passed, feeling like hours. Dean watched Sam, searching for any sign of consciousness. "Come on… come on." He muttered, keeping in beat with his brother's neck spasms. "Heal already."

As if he had been waiting to hear those words, Sam suddenly stopped shivering. Color slowly blossomed back into his cheeks and his breathing evened. "Sam?" Dean whispered, almost afraid to hear a response.

Sam's head lobed to the side, his eyes fluttering open. He tried to speak, finding his tongue too thick to made words. "Hmm auitha wheeaaa…"

"Oh Sam." Dean pulled his brother up, grasping him in a chest shattering embrace. "Oh god, Sammy."

"Dean… I'm wet." Dean let out a relieved half laugh, half sob.

"Yeah Sammy. Sorry about that, but I figured you could use a shower."

Sam pulled away, confusion filling his clearing eyes. "Huh?"

"Never mind."

Dean pulled Sam up, leaning him against the shower wall. He quickly grabbed a towel and started rubbing his brother's arms dry. Sam reached up to his cheek, pulling away a thin layer of ice. "Wow. I really did freeze."

Dean glanced up, not wanting to acknowledge what had happened for the past few minutes. "Okay Sammy, step out. Let's get you into some dry clothes." Dean wrapped his arm around his waist, supporting his thin frame. He steered Sam toward the beds, who let out a slight chuckle.

"Lost the sheets again, huh?"

"Yeah." Dean grinned. "Looks like I won't be lying about you wetting the bed this time. Manager's going to be pissed."

"Dude, that's weak." Sam slowly peeled off his dripping shirt. "God, I feel like I was run over by a truck. In December. Naked."

Dean grinned a little bit at that image. "So I'm going to go out on a limb and say that vision had you freeze to death?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled a dry tee-shirt on. "Yeah. It was a demon, a Gelu-cruor, I think. It sucked body heat out through his hands."

"Huh? I haven't heard of one of those making an appearance in a few years."

"Yeah, well, this one is going to kill a father and daughter. But Dean, this is a whole new ballgame. The victims, they are hunters. Like us."

Dean nodded, impressed. "That makes our job easier."

"No fake ids, no stupid cover story."

"No Sammy. We just call around and find out who knows of a father/daughter tag team. We track 'em, find 'em, save 'em. Easy."

"Yeah, I guess." Sam sat on Dean's bed, staring at his hands in thought. "We still have to find the girl before those vampires get her though."

"Yeah… but do your visions even have a first come, first serve policy? I mean, we have to find the girl, not to mention getting to her and keeping her from being lunch."

"Dean, I know, but I don't think we can count on any rules here. I mean, come one. One day I'm suddenly bleeding out off my chest and the next I'm a popsicle. The only thing I'm sure of is whatever I see happen to someone will happen to me. I don't even know why, let alone how." Sam leaned over, holding his head in his hands.

Dean sat next to him, nudging his shoulder gently. "It's okay Sammy. We'll figure this out. We always do." Sam looked up, his eyes heavy with fatigue and fear.

"Dude, the hero speech isn't going to work right now." He stood, slightly wavering on his feet. He walked to the table, grabbing John's notebook. "Let's get to work. We still have to figure out who these people are."

Dean stood, relieved to have something to do to keep his mind off what just happened only 5 minutes ago. Sammy dying right in front of him, nothing he can do. Stop it, Dean.

Sam sat flipping the pages, searching for his father's contacts. He glanced up annoyed as Dean pulled the book away. He reached up, grabbing the book back. "I don't think so." He nodded toward the bathroom. "You're the one who made the mess in there. You get to clean. AndI'm still kinda stiff." Grinning, Sam pulled out his cell phone and started dialing a number from the page. "Besides, I can describe the hunters."

Dean sulked to the bathroom, muttering under his breath. "I'm the one who defrosted your ass and I have to clean up. Geez…"

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Dean sat with book layed out across his bed, sighing in frustration. He wasn't reading themas much as using them to disguise him studying his brother's appearance. He looked… well, like he had died a few times over. Dean sighed, looking at the book in his hand. Not knowing much about Gelu-cruors, he wasn't finding much. And judging from Sam's face, he hadn't had much luck either.

"Okay, thanks anyway." Sam flipped shut his phone and rubbed his face. Seeing Dean watching, he shook his head. "Nothing." He flipped closed the notebook. "Well, almost nothing. A guy named Gary, a werewolf specialist in Utah, said he had heard of a father and daughter who hunted together, but that was back in the 1940s. There was another family who forced their kids into the business, making a lot of bitter offspring. They stopped hunting about 10 years back. There was one more family who passed the hunt down, raising their kids like we were, training and everything. But they disappeared a few years ago."

Dean stood, stretching his back and hearing satisfying pops. "Okay, so it's not as easy asI thought." He looked back atSam, adding casually "So how you feeling kid?" He walked over to his brother, placing his hand on his forehead. Sam pulled his head away annoyed.

"I'm fine."

"Sammy, that's a load of bull." Sam's head jerked up at the harsh, unexpected words. "You are dead on your feet and you gotta rest."

"Dean, in case you haven't noticed, I've been having visions that attack me. My actual body and not justthe friendlyheadaches, which I would take over my new little gifts anyday. Don't worry about me Dean. We have a job to do. There still three people out there that we have to save and you think I look tired?"

"I don't care about those three people Sammy! I care about you! Whatever is doing this is killing you." Dean didn't realize he was shouting into his brother's face, making him cringe back. "I don't know what to do Sam, but I sure as hell am not going to spend another minute on those people. We can't even find them Sammy! I will not let you die because we ignore what is happening to you."

"Sam face grayed, his eyes dropped to the floor in shame and embarrassment. "Dean, I'm not ignoring this. I couldn't if I wanted to, and believe me, I do." He looked up, the look on his face making him look seven years old again. "I'm scared Dean. I'm scaredto fall asleep again cause I don't know what I'll see next. And I don't think I can live through this again. Dean, I almost died." Dean gave an involuntary shutter at the memory. "I just… I can't go back to sleep."

Dean chewed on his inner cheek. "You aren't going to get better by not resting Sam."

He shrugged, but with a small, grim grin playing on his face. "I won't need to heal if I'm dead because I fall asleep."

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Dean sat alone in the bathroom on the edge of the tub. He needed some time alone, but didn't want to leave Sam. He let out a sarcastic laugh. He might actually get some rest. It had been two days since the last vision and just as long since Sam and last slept. He wouldn't last much longer at this rate. Dean sighed, making a silent decision, and walked out into the room.

The room was littered with empty coffee cups and bottles of caffeine pills. Sam was on the laptop as usual. Somehow, he had stayed awake all this time, although he never looked as bad as he didright now. His bloodshot eyes had hung half closed for theseveral hours. His face had gone even more ash gray and was almost void of expression. Dean shook his head. He had at least gotten a few hours sleep in the past few days, partly because he wasn't pumping himself up with caffeine and mostly because he needed the rest. Watching your brother die twice in the past week takes something out of you. He walked up to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam jumped, started at the unexpected and sudden contact.

"What do you want, Dean?" He asked, his weariness weighing down his voice. Dean removed his hand and lifted a glass of water in his other into Sam's line of vision.

"You can't live on coffee alone man. Drink this and I'll go get us some more food." Sam grasped the glass, barely able to lift it. Watching to make sure he drank the whole glass, Dean sat on the bed waiting. He didn't have to wait long, as Sam's head fell to his chest within 10 minutes.

Dean rose, pulling the bottle of sleeping pills from his pocket and gave his unconscious brother a sad smile. "Sorry Sammy, but there's no way in hell I'm going to let you kill yourself." I'll leave that to the frickin' dreams. He lifted his brother's feather light frame and placed him on the bed, brushing some hair out of his eyes. I swear Sammy… I'm not going to let you die.

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The man glimpsed around, quickly taking in his surroundings. A dark forest with half a moon in the sky. Glancing around informed him there wasn't a single house he could see. Looking back at the looming forest in front of him, he sighed. Well, might as well get this over with so I can get back home to Laura and the girls. He knew how much Laura desperately wanted him to stay home, worried for his safety. Yes, he hated going out at night, allowing god knows what access to his family without his knowledge. But the rest of the town had hailed him as the best and he could not knowingly turn them away. Something was destroying them and he had to stop it. As usual.

So here he found himself, entering the monster's home to kill it before it could kill his family and friends. Quite poetic if you think about it, acting almost human. No, not it's not. This thing is nothing like humans and therefore needed to die without the proper rites. The man shook his head, gripping the spear in his hand. Just kill this thing and get home. Gathering breath, he walked into the woods.

Okay. Now all I have to do is find it. The man's thoughts went back to the past night. This thing was nasty; big, strong, and could fly, having witnessed the shadow fall into these very woods after slaughtering the neighbors in their beds. He fought back a wave of nausea at the memory of the bodies of his friends and their baby son. At least what was left of the bodies. Without heads, they would have been hard to identify if they hadn't been in their own home. Stop it. Thinking of that won't help. Trotting deeper into the trees, he breathed deeply, sucking in the smells. Only fresh trees, no decaying body parts. That's a good sign… or is it bad?

The man whipped his head around at a slight rustle in the trees to his right. Fear danced in his heart, making him breathe faster. That was fast. As shadow crossed the tree tops above him, flashing a pair of red eyes. God give me strength to send this demon back to the hell from whence it came. His eyes shifted around the trees, searching for the thing before it could attack. Forest did not make the best of places to look for something, but greatly helped the demon. It could watch the scared little human search for hours without making its presence known. This was fun, but failed to reach the goal. The demon was hungry; it wanted another head.

The thing jumped out of the trees, landing ten feet ahead. The man felt his hands begin to shake in fear. He hadn't known what to expect, but in the few years he had been… well, hunting for lack of a better word, he had only come upon a few spirits and a possible werewolf, but never had he actually seen a real demon.

And this wasn't a small demon, something to be squished like a pea. It stood at least eight feet tall with its wings wrapped around its body like a cloak. Any other time, he could have been mistaken for a human, except for the six inch nails and dog-like snout, dripping blood and salvia.

His mouth went dry as he raised his sword. A million thoughts passed by his mind, mostly prayers. One popped out among all the others. Why the hell am I doing this? What he didn't expect was to hear a response emanating from inside his mind. Because you were born to be. His eyes widened. This is not the best time to be going crazy, he lectured himself. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear his thoughts, (especially that last one), reminding himself there was a demon preparing to pounce standing by.

He gripped his sword. Okay then. If I'm a hunter, then I'm a hunter. And now I'm going to kill this sonofabitch. The demon squinted his fiery eyes, taking in the human's physical and mental change. Suddenly, it jumped straight up, becoming invisible in the leaves.

The man shifted, preparing for an attack. It is toying with me. It wants me to know how superior it is. Anger began to build in his heart until it burst out in words.

"Come and get me you bastard! One of us is gonna die tonight and it may as well be you! He breathed out, waiting for a response. A growl answered behind him. No thinking, just attack. Swing the sword, damn it! Surprised jolted him back into conscious thought as his sword connected. His eyes widened, jaw dropped at the sight of his sword sticking half out of the demon's chest, having almost cleaved him in half.

The growl grew louder as survival instinct kicked into the demon. It bared its teeth, muscles clenching in pain. A paw flicked out, aiming to rake its claws across the hunter's chest in a final attempt to hurt the human that was killing it. The man quickly leaned back, avoiding the claws by inches. With a warrior's cry, he pulled the sword from the demon's side. With a single swing, he sent the head flying into the trees. The body fell to the ground, bereft of life.

The hunter let go of the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. I did it. Holy crap (sorry Lord), I did it. The man started dancing around in a small circle, completely wrapped up in his glorious victory. After a few minutes, he stopped. Laura and the girls will be waiting and he didn't want to keep them up all night worrying. Grinning, he turned around to walk home. Red eyes stared into his a mere four inches away. With all his excitement, he hadn't heard the mate approach. Oh fu…

Without warning, she lashed out her tongue, wrapping it quickly around his neck. A single tug and the man's head snapped around, paralyzing him. His body dropped to the forest floor, eyes filled with fear as he watched the mate advance again. No, please no. I have a family. My girls. The demon stared down at the human's body. He tried flexing his legs muscles, desperate for some ability to fight back. He was still conscious for the precious moments it took for the mate to reach down with her clawed hands, snapping his head off with a sharp twist. She opened her dripping jaws. Dinner.

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"OH MY GOD!" Sam jolted out of bed, his entire body shaking.

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Hope the wait was worth it. Please R&R.