Chapter 8
Dean gaped, his wheezing breath frantic, as he stared at his brother's contorting body. The mess of scorched red and white slashes across the younger's chest latched his attention. His eyes darted furiously over the scene, his brain screaming for him to react, to ease Sam's suffering. Yet, he found himself detached, his state of panic morphing into one of observance and confusion.
The marking was familiar, known to him, but he seemed to be at a loss to place it. His thoughts convinced him that it was due to the mark being out of place, being burned deeper into his little brother's skin when it should be adorning a wall, or book. Had he seen it on a wall? Or somewhere else? His sweaty brow furrowed in concentration as the nagging feeling he should be able to but simply couldn't, intensified.
A sickening crack brought him back to terrifying reality, and the sight of bright red staining the cold porcelain and flowing from his brother's head brought him to action. On shaking legs, Dean stumbled towards his seizing brother, his knees colliding hard with the cool tile as he slumped down beside Sam.
Running on pure instinct alone, Dean grabbed hold of Sam's shoulder's and pinned him hard against the floor. The action elicited a series of horrifying shrieks from the younger, who began swatting angrily at the hands that held him in agony. Dean fought to keep his position, believing this the only way to help his brother. A swift knee to the torso was all that was needed to refute that theory and throw him, heaving and gasping, off Sam.
Dean huddled against the far wall, and curled into himself, struggling to regain his breath. His chest ached and tightened, restricting the coughs that sought exile and impairing his ability to take in even the smallest ounce of air. Tears clouded his eyes, making his brother's pain but a cloud of mist. He worked to blink them away, so that he could see Sam, he needed to see Sam.
But Sam was no more than a twisted writhing body, wailing from the pain induced from the image blazing itself upon his chest, a lingering sickening smell that clouded the senses and refused to lift.
Gritting his teeth, Dean crawled slowly back over to his brother, carefully avoiding the spastic limbs. He gently cupped Sam's head in his hands, holding it steady while he slipped a leg underneath and then slowly rested Sam's head back down onto it. Methodically, Dean traced his little brother's head wound wondering how bad it was, but refused to look at the rest of Sam's convulsing form.
Without thinking much of it, Dean began to hum. The melody was jumbled and barely recognizable to anyone else that could've been listening through Sam's cries and his ragged breaths. But Dean knew it, and he was sure Sam did too, although he was only a baby at the time. Dean hummed the same bars over and over for the simple fact his memory had betrayed him, and he'd forgotten most of his mother's song but he didn't think Sam would mind.
Through his own shivering, Dean could still feel the tremors from Sam's quaking body pulsating through his hands. His back arched in effort as he slowly steadied his breathing, and resigned he would have to quit humming to settle it. He forced his mind to count off the strangled inhales and exhales rather than indulge the burden of guilt at how his entire attempt to help his brother had done nothing but hurt him more.
A strangled cry escaped Dean's tinged blue lips when the screams came to a halting stop. He slowly dropped his gaze down, deathly afraid of the sight that would meet his vision. Dean raspy breathing slowed slightly when he saw that the sea of red he had been expecting didn't exist.
Sam was still, unmoving. A sight that would usually ignite fear in the elder's heart, but brought solace instead. Dean released a ragged sigh, and hesitatingly shifted into a position along side his brother.
"S-sa-mmy?" Dean heaved, his voice barely audible as he rested heavily down onto his elbows beside him. "S-sam?"
No response was given, and Dean tried again. Silence was not his desired result and the elder gingerly shifted his weight, and reached out to nudge his brother figuring the contact should jar him back. Carefully, Dean avoided the patch of fiery red and tapped the upper part of Sam's shoulder gently, before pulling his hand quickly to not re-inflict any unnecessary pain.
The touch warranted nothing. Dean swallowed hard, and fear consumed him as he reached out to touch his brother yet again. He cringed as he put more weight behind his fingers. The energy to pull back was too much, and sweat poured every inch of him when the movement backfired and he was left no choice but to rest his entire hand onto Sam's shoulder to steady himself.
Dean yelped as a searing pain racked his head and he was hurled back onto the bathroom floor. A panicked voice reached his ears, and he squinted his eyes to make out the figure that had just put him in such a state. The black spots dancing in his eyes proved the task a more than difficult feat, but clarity was soon gained and a small shaky smile graced his face as he met intense orbs of brown.
"Dean, man, I'm sorry. I think…ha, we hit heads, man. You okay?" Sam was moving his head too much for Dean's liking as he was already seeing three of him. He shook his aching head in attempts to fix the problem, but that only sent another jolt of pain and him grasping his temples once again. "Dean? What's wrong? Dean, answer me!"
"Y-you" Dean spat out, baffled by the look of confusion that quickly clouded his brother's heads and pretty sure it mirrored his own. So he tried again, this time lifting a heavy hand to clarify his remark. "Y-you."
"What?" Sam questioned, then gasped upon following Dean's trembling point. The younger's eyes widen considerably as he slowly took in the mess that had worsened upon his chest. The slashes that had once seemed random had merged to form a perfect outline of a clearly visible symbol. Releasing a deep breath, Sam quickly snatched his abandoned shirt from off the edge of the sink and jerked it on, before turning his attention back to his shaken brother.
"I'm ok, Dean. Really. It's not so bad." Sam's tender tone did nothing to aid Dean into a sense of comfort, rather into a state of anger.
"No!" the word came out in a terrified scream, as the elder worked to scramble off the floor. His unsteady footing not helping in the least, and Sam, ever the hen, caught on rapidly wrapping his arms around his brother's waist to help him up. A movement Dean did not appreciate and showed it by pushing Sam off, his hand connecting directly with the charred flesh above his younger brother's heart.
"Dean, calm down. You need to calm down!" Sam's voice held urgency when Dean's pants turned into full-fledged wheezing when he showed no sign of pain inflicted by Dean's touch.
"I-it d-doesn't h-hurt?" Dean's voice was almost a whimper as Sam half walked, half dragged the elder out of the bathroom and back into the room.
"Well, it aches sometimes and stings a little." Sam confessed, still unsure as to what started his brother's state as he settled Dean back down onto the bed and went to make him lie down, another motion the elder adamantly refused.
"You're lying." Dean stated firmly, the fog around his mind lifting and bringing him to a place of perfect coherence and anger.
"No, I'm not." Sam snapped, but a smirk formed on his lips soon after "Now, what were you doing in the bathroom with me? Huh, big bro?"
"I like the towels." Dean muttered slowly returning the joke, but then brought his head up to Sam's and looked at Sam questionably, eyes wide, " You were shaking…on the floor. Don't you remember?"
"What? I couldn't sleep, so I was going to take a shower. Dean, you're not making any se-" Sam stopped his counter argument when he noticed his brother no longer held his gaze and was instead fixated on his now covered chest.
"You're marked, Sammy." Dean gasped, and Sam was about to head over and offer comfort, but Dean shot up quickly on his feet, "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"Uh…Dean, I—I can handle it. Okay? Y-you were, are, sick." Sam stammered taking a small step back, quite frightened by his brother's sudden outburst and how close the elder's anger filled face was to his own.
"No, I'm not!" Dean cried vehemently. "And you can't!"
"Dean, you can barely stand." Sam offered softly, reaching out to steady his swaying brother. "I'll figure this out. Okay? I promise. But you need to rest."
"Don't touch me." Dean hissed, jerking back to avoid his brother's outstretched arms.
"Alright. Alright." Sam raised his hands up in mock surrender and watched pensively as his brother eased back down onto the bed, his breathing becoming erratic.
"You should've told me, dumbass." Dean murmured.
"I didn't want to worry you." Sam replied dejectedly, his heart pounding when he took in his older brother's glazed eyes and ashen face, and reached out a hand to Dean's forehead.
"What the hell? You trying to get fresh with me college boy?" Sam laughed at his brother's reply to his actions, but it didn't meet his eyes.
"Yeah, Dean. I love sick sweaty older men." Sam shot back, not liking at all how warm Dean's forehead felt under his hand, "Dean, I think you should lie down. Can you do that for me?"
"No, Sam. I can't do that for you." Dean snapped, shrugging off his brother's hands, "Not until we, and I mean, we, fix this thing."
"Dean, I--"
"Sam. Stop." Dean ordered, lifting himself off the bed, "We're in this together. Got it? And stop henning me before I kick your ass."
"I got it." Sam replied sullenly, "Can I at least go and get you some medicine for that sickness you don't have?"
"Whatever, dude." Dean shrugged, and waved his hand gesturing for Sam to go.
Sam threw a final glance at his older brother before gathering his jacket and the keys and heading to the nearest drug store or supermarket he could find. As soon as, Dean heard the motel door slam, he trudged over to his bag and dug out the bottle of caffeine pills he had stashed for such times. There would be no sleeping until he figured this thing out, and if he knew Sam like he thought he did, there was no doubt the idiot would try to get something with a sleep-aid and try to drug him. There was no way in hell, Dean was letting that happen.
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