Disclaimer: I love disclaimers so much, I could eat them.

Chapter 9 - Tired

Sam sat on his bed in a Holiday Inn hotel he found in Point Pleasant after he had managed to get himself and Dean out of what had once been Dean's home. Sam's head rested on his palm and occasionally he lifted it just so that he could chew on his nails as he tried to organize his thoughts.

The 'accident' had definitely been the work of the Mothman. Again, it had made it all appear a somewhat unusual, although explainable accident. But this Mothman was better than the one in the legends, the one John and Dean had killed. It was smart. It didn't let itself be seen and it had proven to be able to control the weather by making the house be hit by lightning, which was power beyond anything Sam had ever seen before.

He tried not to think of Nacha and Andrew as personal losses, since he needed to be strong for Dean now. The sorrow he felt for his nephew and sister-in-law, although great, was probably nothing compared to what Dean was feeling right now. And so he saved that one thought for another time.

His main worry at the moment was Dean. Exactly thirteen hours had passed since Sam had laid his brother down on the bed opposite him and the eldest hadn't even changed position. Hell, he hadn't even moved a finger. Nothing. He had just slept, his heartbeats even and clear, but his breathing was forced and loud. Too loud. In fact, sometimes it sounded like sobs, as if even in his dreams he continued crying his heart out.

And it was as if all that rest was doing nothing for Dean. The fever had reached an alarmingly high point and Sam was considering calling and ambulance, but he also knew how much Dean hated hospitals and with all that had happened, he thought it wouldn't do him much good.

He thought of trying to wake him up. But then, what if Dean didn't want to be woken up? He wondered if maybe a grieving mind could somehow control its body to weaken itself in order to avoid all that emotional pain. What if a broken heart could break a mind and then the entire body? No, Sam couldn't and wouldn't allow that. He carefully kneeled beside Dean and shook him gently.

"Hey, Dean, wake up, big bro," he tried soothingly, using words to remind Dean of their past as a hunting family, which now didn't look as dark as it once had. "You've slept long enough, c'mon."

The moment darkness claimed him, Dean had prayed for it to take him forever. To take him to his wife and son and end the nightmare once and for all. He remained in that comforting darkness, unable to wake up. And even if he had been able to, he wouldn't have tried. He would have remained with his eyes shut until he died of starvation or until someone thought he was dead and buried him alive. He didn't care if that even made sense, all he wanted was to die.

What about Sammy? Well, he was doing fine on his own; he always had. He didn't need Dean as much as Dean needed him. The words reminded him of the first time they had encountered the demon that killed his mother and in his unconsciousness, he relived his father's, - no, the demon's – words. They don't need you. Not like you need them.

So true, he thought bitterly. The moment he had let Sam go back to his normal life, the kid had become much happier. He was now successful and the brood that seemed to follow him everywhere in their hunting days had disappeared completely. And his father? Dean had done everything he asked him to in order to kill the demon, but Dean was sure Sam and John would have been perfectly fine without him and would have succeeded anyway.

So why couldn't he just die? There was nothing left for him to do, no one left for him to protect, didn't he deserve to rest? He was so tired, he had been tired since he was four and had found temporary rest after about twenty-five long years of tiredness. And that rest, that perfection had been taken away only three short years later.

Dean felt someone shaking him slightly, as Andrew used to do every Friday morning. Dean's heart skipped a beat. Maybe it had all been a horrible dream and maybe it was Friday morning now and Andrew was trying to wake him up to go read Uncle Sam's email.

Maybe he was getting a second chance to change what he had done. Maybe he would wake up to Andrew waking him up and Nacha bringing eggs and bacon for herself and toast with jam for him. Maybe he was being given an opportunity to stay with them this time and protect them, like he should have done before. Sammy would need to be saved too, but because he was being given a second chance, he would figure out how to keep everyone safe.

With renewed urges to wake up, he forced his eyelids to open, though they felt too warm, sore and heavy. Although he managed the task, his eyes didn't see much, frustrating him. He desperately needed to know if the person waking him up was his little Andrew.

"Andrew?"

Sam stopped shaking Dean immediately at hearing the weak whisper that left his brother's fevered lips. His eyes filled with tears, knowing that he was about to cause Dean the greatest and most painful disappointment. He considered letting him shift back into unconsciousness in order to avoid it. He was scared Dean in this condition wouldn't be able to take it. However, Dean looked only too eager to find out who was trying to wake him up, which doubled Sam's pain.

"N- No, Dean, it's me, Sam."

Dean blinked a few times, trying to focus on his face and when his sight confirmed that he hadn't heard wrong, he said nothing and directed his eyes to the ceiling, understanding.

Nervous at Dean's lack of response, Sam tried to explain possible questions going through Dean's mind. Or that would be going through his mind, had he cared about anything other than his all too resent loss.

"We're in a Holiday Inn hotel… still in Point Pleasant. I managed to convince the paramedics that I'd take care of you… well actually I sort of ran before they could stop me, I know a hospital wouldn't have exactly been your choice," he said quickly with a nervous laugh. Dean actually spared him a glance at that and gave him an almost imperceptible smile before returning his empty hazel green gaze to the ceiling.

"I woke you up 'cause you really need something for that fever, okay? I got you some pills…" he said producing a box of prescription tablets and taking two yellow pills in his hand. "I'll just get some water. After you take them you can go back to sleep, okay?"

As he walked to the bathroom, Sam felt like he had been talking to a five year-old. Like he couldn't raise his voice too much, because he would scare Dean, or like a harder tone could make his brother cry.

Maybe that was exactly why he was treating him so carefully, he thought as he held a glass under the stream of cold water in the sink. Because he had seen his invincible older brother, his protector and the man he admired the most, breaking before his own eyes, crying helplessly, depending on Sam to make all the evil go away. And Sam didn't know how to deal with it, so he did his best for it not to happen again.

He was also insecure because he had no idea what Dean could possibly be going through at the moment. When Jessica was killed, Sam had thought it was the end of the world. He had thought there could be nothing worse than losing her. But now Sam knew better.

Losing the love of his life and his only son, who hadn't even had the chance to go to kindergarten, was something Sam couldn't even begin to relate to.

Everybody imagines Hell in a different way. Some think it's eternal physical torture. Others say it's a place where there is no God. A few even think it is the eternal repetition of an immoral obsession practiced in life, until the soul begins to hate it. Sam had never really thought of what Hell could be like; he belonged to the group that preferred not to think of it, that preferred not to know. However, he did know that Dean was probably going through the worst kind of Hell anyone could ever think of.

And he was living it on Earth.

He went back to kneel next to Dean, who was still looking at the ceiling, mute.

"Can you sit up, Dean?"

The man in question blinked as all answer. After a few seconds he tilted his head and blinked again at Sam, as if only then realizing he wasn't alone. With shaky arms, he pushed himself to a sitting position and took the pills and the glass of water off his brother's offering hands and swallowed them automatically, before lying back down.

"Dean, we're gonna find this son of a bitch and we're gonna kill it okay? I promise," Sam said, making an attempt at cheering him up at least a little. To his surprise, Dean looked at him and smiled with sad eyes. It was a smile he only saved for his little brother. A smile that clearly said 'you're far too young to understand.'

Even though Dean was only four years older, sometimes he could make Sam feel that he had about a hundred years of experience to catch up with.

"What for, Sammy?"

"What do you mean 'what for,' Dean! You know as well as I do that was no electric storm. It was that damn demon, we have to kill it!" He spat before he could help himself. Sam was terrified for a moment that he had been too direct too soon, but Dean didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile seemed to become even wider. Anyone other than Sam would have thought Dean was amused.

"Sam, revenge won't bring them back; it only makes you angry and it builds up hatred – it makes you forget everything else. Plus, I promised Nacha I'd never hunt again after I was sure you were safe and I am pretty sure of that now and I'm not gonna break that promise."

"Dean-"

"Sam, just go back to New York, okay? Go back to Kirsten. I'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? By letting that thing come for you next? Your plan is to let it kill you too, isn't it?"

Dean glared at him but didn't reply. Sometimes Sam could read him like a book. But then again, in this situation, who couldn't?

"Dean, then don't do it for revenge. Do it for all the other people that could be hurt by it, like you always have."

"Exactly, that's what I did when I hunted and Nacha doesn't want me to do it anymore, Sam."

"But, I guess she would want you to go on, right?" he said in a much softer tone, "this thing wants you, Dean. It will come for you and you need to be ready to defend yourself and kill it. Nacha would have never wanted to see it hurt you."

"And… and neither would Andrew," muttered Dean remembering his son's innocent words about his jacket. Sam saw the tears in Dean's eyes and decided it had been enough for one conversation. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering how supportive Dean had been when Jess had died. Dean had done everything he had asked without question, even if he thought it wasn't a good idea. He hadn't even mentioned Jess unless Sam started the conversation. Now Sam wondered if he was doing the right thing by pushing Dean against this demon.

"Sleep now," he said finally, ignoring the slow wet trace one lonely tear left on his brother's face, as if it didn't make him feel like crying himself. He looked away when he saw Dean biting his lower lip to keep himself from breaking down again. It wasn't like Sam was ashamed, but he knew Dean needed some privacy.

His brother had never liked being pitied.

For the next three days Sam had to wake up Dean if he wanted to see any of him. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of his body. With the high fever and general physical exhaustion, it was quite understandable, though.

But what worried Sam is that no matter how high the fever was, Dean had never let it slow him down for such a long time before. Even when they were little, the time when they both had chicken pox, Dean being 10 and Sam 6, Dean had taken care of both of them almost without any problems, ignoring his own fever and itchiness while their father hunted some dark creature in some dark place.

Sam had to force food and water down his throat and those short few hours that he stayed awake, he hardly said anything. No witty remark, no cocky smile, not even a wink. Nothing. Sam wondered if his brother would ever be the same again.

Because he knew he had never been the same after Jessica, and he never would be.

A/N: Ahh… so angsty… oh well it just came out that way lol… hope you liked this chapter… it's kind of a useless-but-necessary-anyway kinda chapter… but anyway I'll try to get into the action rather soon. Thank you guys so much for your reviews… I'm so glad you still like my story even after I killed my beautiful original characters lol they were cool…

Random Note: yes! Spanish exam tomorrow. And then three more Spanish exams on Friday. Funny how it works. Why is one of the exams isolated? No idea. Maybe it was the rejected one. Anyway, my point obviously being I'm only too lucky to have these exams :( Hope it goes better than my French haha…