Chapter 10
Dean felt the cold shiver run down his body and inhaled sharply as the tremors shook him. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere between reading Father Andrew's insanely self-righteous bio and St. Pius' illusive history, he'd ended up sprawled on the coarse motel carpet.
The effects of the pills were fading. His head pounded as the drug released its hold and the dull tired ache that encompassed his former auto-piloted body ignited into a ravaging crippling pain. His chest heaved under the pressure and sweat poured from his brow as Dean launched an effort to steady his shallow breaths. His eyes, glazed with fever, began to slide shut and Dean frantically brought up a hand and rubbed them open fiercely.
Sleep was something he could not afford now, and yet never in his life had he craved it more. Every bone in his body screamed for it, he was losing the battle against his own flesh and still refused to give in to defeat. As much as he hated being sick and openly vulnerable, the thought alone of losing Sam was enough to kill him, and if that reality occurred, he knew it would.
So, screw it, if he felt like his entire being was shutting down and protesting every movement, he was stronger than this. He'd fought against worse. Hell, most of his injuries resulted in major blood loss. This was only some wacked out cold that had decided to take him on, a big mistake if you ask him. He'd beat its ass or at least delay it for a while. He just needed to fight off his illness for a few more hours, until he knew Sam was safe. Then it could claim him and Sam could mother him like he always did. Dean even resolved himself to let the younger do it.
Dean's eyes drooped shut and he shook his head violently against the darkness. This wasn't working, and he knew the only way he would be able to stay up for any length of time was the caffeine. It was the only weapon in his arsenal that was working effectively as of late although he figured that he'd probably need to combine it with some other source of the stimulant soon or else his body would just adjust or simply ignore the dosage. He made a mental note to tell Sam that he needed a triple shot expresso the sooner the better.
He needed more pills if he planned on actually saving Sam this time, and with that thought fermented in his mind, Dean propped himself up on his elbows and expelled a harsh cough before army crawling over to his pack. The trip alone almost did him in, and Dean leaned his body heavily against the hard side of the bed while his shaky fingers fumbled with the clasp.
A straggled sigh of relief was heard when he got the damn thing open. Dean jerkily straightened up and set to work finding the bottle that contained the manipulated energy he desperately needed to survive the rest of the night. Tense hands grasped the familiar plastic and quivering fingers sought to align the god-forsaken arrows on the cap and bottle and pop it open. Dean bit his lip in concentration and groaned angrily as he continued to fight with the unmoving seal.
The hollow click of the lock and the moaning of the old wood, jarred Dean from his struggle and he quickly snapped his head over to the opening motel door. Without a thought, he shoved the unopened bottle forcefully into his pack, forgetting the other items he'd strewn all over in his search, and scrambled to lift himself unto the bed.
"Hey, Dean! I'm back." Sam greeted rather noisily as he stepped into the dimly lit room.
The mess of papers and drawings adorning the coffee table caught his immediate attention, but held him captive for only a short while before the deafening wheezing pierced his ears.
"Dean? You ok? Dean?" Sam stumbled over the lump of sheets piled in front of the bed before reaching his brother's huddled, heaving form that lay there. The younger quickly gathered both sets of pillows and propped them against the headboard.
"Alright, Dean, c'mon," Sam coaxed softly, gently helping maneuver Dean from his side to his back and pulled his brother to a half-sit against the pillows. Sam let out a shaky breath, running a nervous hand through his dark hair as he waited for Dean's gasps to even out.
Sam dropped down on the bed along side his brother. Dean's skin seemed paler, if that was possible, and his short hair was plastered to his head by the rivers of sweat that glistened along his face. He reached out a hand to shimmering forehead, his fingers brushing the radiating heat before being smacked away.
"Geffme" Dean coughed, swatting at Sam's hand that was no longer in his weak reach.
"Is that supposed to mean something?" Sam joked, a trembling forced smile on his face. Content that Dean was still going to be breathing when he got back, Sam darted off to the bathroom, returning quickly with a cup of water and relieved to find his brother breathing more normally.
"I'd rather coffee." Dean stated bitterly, taking the offered water and issuing Sam a pleading glance.
"Nope. Water. And before you down it all…" Sam retreated from his brother's line of sight, returning with two bright red pills in his extended hand.
"What the hell is that?" Dean demanded, taking another slow sip from the Styrofoam cup.
"Cold medicine. For the cold you don't have." Sam smirked and thrust the pills into Dean's hand, "I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"Take the damn pills Dean." Sam ordered, trying his best to sound authoritative when Dean did nothing but place them on the nightstand.
"Why?" Dean pressed, more than happy to see his little brother getting agitated.
"You know why." Sam retorted, relishing in his moment of brilliance he'd had at the drugstore as he whipped out a familiar yellow bag from the brown sack. He couldn't help but smile as Dean's eyes widened considerably and his brother swung out to grab the bag dangling in front of him. "Uh uh. Not until you take the pills."
"Yeah, right, man. C'mon hand 'em over." Dean reached for the bag again, shooting an evil stare at his tempter when it was pulled out of his grasp again. "Ah, c'mon dude!"
"Well, it seems I wasted a buck fifty doesn't it?" Sam sighed, eyeing the pills on the table and shooting Dean a knowing glance, before settling down on the opposite bed. "Guess I'll just have to eat them myself."
"Jerk." Dean snapped, working hard to position himself on the edge of the bed, but thwarted by a series of hacking coughs.
"Bitch." Sam replied off-handedly, pulling the crinkling wrapper open, eliciting a groan from Dean.
"That's just low, dude." Dean muttered watching his little brother tip the package over and shrug. "Fine! I'll take the damn pills."
"Ha. I knew it." Sam laughed victoriously as he watched Dean throw back the pills.
"Now, hand them over." Dean commanded.
"Alright, alright." Sam conceded, handing over Dean's prize, before getting up and settling down at the coffee table. "So, did you find out anything?"
"Uh huh." Dean replied, clearly distracted as he poured out the chocolate covered candies and began sorting them by color.
"Want to fill me in? Or do I get to guess?" Sam exasperated, riffling through the scattered papers.
"Tell you what. You tell me what you know and I'll tell you what I know." Dean replied sharply, although issuing a smirk before popping two of the green ones in his mouth.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam questioned angrily, shoving a pile of drawings out of the way.
"Cut the crap, genius, I want to know when that friggen' thing turned up." Sam visibly straightened at his brother's tone. Dean was all business now, his voice, gravelly from sickness, held an ominous quality to it that warded off any possibility of a lie.
"The other day after we got back from the church." Dean digested the information slowly as he studied the remainder of his candy.
"So, when we interviewed Father Andrew?"
"Yea, he tripped. Remember? And I helped him." Sam offered, rising from his seat and hurrying over to his brother when Dean fell back heavily against the pillows.
"I'm fine, dude, back off." Dean insisted, waving Sam away although the younger settled down near his feet.
"Yeah, I know you keep telling me." Sam smiled and unconsciously rubbed at his chest before continuing, "It burned when he touched my shoulder."
"Okay, so then its Father Andrew whose doing it." Dean stated matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"You said when he touched you it burned right?" Dean asked excitedly, and Sam nodded hesitatingly to the question. "So, he's controlling it in some way."
"Dean, you were there. Ok? I mean, he's a priest and aside from that I-uh…I kind of hadanightmare."
"Huh? I didn't get that last part." Dean mumbled, stifling a yawn.
"I said, I uh…I had a nightmare." Sam confessed, dropping his gaze from his brother's intense one.
"Wait. You mean, the one the other night was about this whole mark thing and you just forgot to tell me!" Dean yelled, the sudden shift in air flow forcing him to double over on the bed. Sam placed a hand on his brother's arching back as the attack came.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just—"
"Sam. Don't." Dean heaved, shifting back onto the pillows and letting his head fall into them.
"So, I know you loathe the clergy, but I mean, Father Andrew seems legit, a little freaky, but still." Sam ventured after a couple minutes of silence, deterring the issue back to the case and not his past actions.
"I found some stuff." Dean mumbled slowly, his eyes drooping.
"Oh yeah. What kind of stuff?" Sam pressed, elated to see the pills finally taking hold and hoping Dean would thank him later, instead of kill him.
"On Andrew." Dean yawned and turned onto his stomach, shaking his head against the cloud of sleep that was forming.
"Oh ok. Well, you rest and uh…I'll read it. Okay? So, where'd you put it?" Sam asked regretting that the pills took hold too soon as he fumbled through the mass of pages strewn across the table and then turned his attention to the computer screen, "Dean, where'd you put it?"
Sam didn't get an answer and if the pills did what the box claimed, he wouldn't for some a long time.
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alright let me know what you thought! sorry for the wait...
