Chapter 9

"Dean…" Sam's quietly uttered, one word statement said it all as he found himself racing down the hall to the showers on sheer instinct alone, his forward momentum barely slowing as he burst through the door and never once realizing it had slammed shut in Penny's face right behind him. Scanning the entire space in a matter of seconds, he could hear the echo of water running in the empty room but saw no sign of his brother.

"Dean," he called out at full volume this time in a near frantic tone, hoping to get the quick and rather belligerent response the elder brother would have normally shot back at him when he felt Sam was invading his personal space but, much to his dismay, was answered with nothing Starting down the long line of stalls to his right, he cautiously pushed lightly on each stall's outer door one by one to find the first four unoccupied. The deeper into the room he found himself, the louder the sounds from the spray of a showerhead became and he knew when he stepped in front of the last stall in the line that he'd find exactly what he was looking for once he worked up the courage to take a peek.

With an unsteady finger, he cringed at the groaned creak the door mocked him with when he gently pushed against it and was surprised to find that it gave way easily, the thought that his brother hadn't bothered to lock it not going ignored. As the sounds of beating water came closer and closer with each advancing step forward he took, he peered inside the small, enclosed area and he couldn't stop the somersault his stomach made when his eyes fell directly onto the rim of what was probably a large pool of water forming just behind the inner curtain that had started seeping outward and snaked its way to the outer, overflow drain. The tiny streams that Sam was sure branched off from a larger lake were streaked with varying shades of red all the way back to their point of origin that was still hidden from his view and as he took in a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, he drew the curtain partially back to take a better look at what he was sure he didn't really want to see on the other side.

Even with the inner shower area still somewhat obscured by the half-pulled away curtain, Sam's worst fears were being confirmed one by one when he saw the ever-growing pool of bloody water the body huddled up on the floor was sitting in. There his brother sat with his back facing Sam's wide eyes as water pounded against his head and torso, his body naked and shivering with his knees pulled tightly up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs in somewhat of an upright ball; his bunched up, six plus foot frame covering most of the inner drain that was preventing the crimson-stained flow of water from escaping down into the sewers.

Peeling the plastic barrier between his brother and himself back slightly further to reveal just a little more of Dean's trembling body, Sam finally found the source of the bloody tributaries when his eyes followed the darkest stream up to his brother's left side and to the gaping hole just below his ribcage that bled freely now that there was nothing to staunch it. Reaching in to crank the handle that would put an end to what the younger brother could only assume was a frigid barrage of water coming from the head up above by the way Dean shivered where he was planted, Sam's stomach lurched slightly again when he felt that the temperature of said water was quite comfortable by shower standards, maybe even hot still.

"Sam, what the hell you'd do that for?" Dean's shaky voice echoed through the room as he broke the silence, the anger he tried to relay in his tone sorely missing as he spoke in more of a pained whine, "… and what the hell are you doing in here? Can't you see I'm trying to take a shower?"

Ignoring his brother's partially slurred questions, Sam grabbed the towel that had been tossed over the bar holding the curtain in place and draped it over Dean's trembling shoulders, the heat his body was producing more than likely not coming from the water that was no longer streaming down on him. Biting his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, he asked his brother the question that begged for an answer.

"Oh god Dean, please tell me that that hole in your side isn't from a bite," he nearly pleaded to the older man as he lowered himself down onto one knee and braced himself for a response.

"It's not a bite Sammy, just a scratch," was the blessed reply he got and the sigh of relief that came out of Sam's lips was clearly audible to the elder brother's ears. "You think I'd a come here if that'd been a bite?"

"Just a scratch? You call that 'just a scratch'?" Sam barked at Dean's lackadaisical comment when the initial shock wore off as he wiped the remaining blood away with the corner of the towel covering his brother to examine the wound a little more closely, ignoring the harsh hiss that the injured man couldn't help but let out, the entire side of his body wincing away at the unwanted contact. With a clearer view of the damage that had been done, Sam could see the deep perforation in his brother's skin and muscle not only ripped to shreds at the edges but starting to turn a strange shade of yellow and green inside. 

Flanked on either side by matching tears in the mottled flesh, and although not as deep as the puncture wound itself, they did stretch from the lower half of his side down to his hip and had also started showing early signs of infection.

"Claws from a paw, so technically just a scratch, little brother," was the lighthearted comment Dean shot back, clearly hearing the concern in Sam's voice and trying to make light of what he himself knew to be a rather delicate situation. He had hoped to make it back to his motel alone before ever progressing to this point, but apparently his body had other plans.

"Who stitched this up for you… and when did you even get it anyway because this sure as hell isn't fresh and I know for a fact that thing didn't get anywhere near you before you shot it? Spill it Dean, what happened?" Sam demanded while he looked in all different directions for Dean's duffel as he pressed the towel down a little harder, hoping the direct pressure would put an end the steady bleeding.

"I did, yesterday… and yeah, I already know I did a piss-poor job so spare me the lecture. It's not like it was in the easiest spot to get to," Dean answered his brother as explanatorily as he possibly could to avoid any further discussion and waited for the next string of questions he knew would inevitably come.

"Ok… yesterday. You got these yesterday how, exactly?" Sam asked again, refusing to let the topic go but putting his thoughts on hold when he finally noticed the heavy pounding on the door leading back into the hall, the door that he had rather rudely left Penny on the other side of.

"Sam, what's going on in there?" She called into the dorm bathroom rather loudly through the crack she had just opened, her tone of voice threatening that she would come inside should Sam not readily answer her.

"Wait here," Sam ordered his brother as he wrapped the blood-soiled towel back around his shoulders and stood, not wanting to leave Dean but needing to address the problem at the door.

"Where'm I gonna go?" Dean huffed his response as he buried his face back into his knees where it had been before Sam had bothered him, perfectly content to just sit there until the end of time if it meant he didn't have to actually move any inch of his pain-racked body.

Sam took off for the entryway in a near sprint to head the concerned, young woman off and easily stopped her before she could make it all the way into the men's room, knowing that she couldn't see a thing from her position but really not caring as he cut her view of anything off with his own body. Sam knew there was no way of explaining what was happening down that hall and didn't even want to have to try.

"What the hell is going on in here Sam? I've been pounding on that door since it hit me in the nose when you nearly broke it off its hinges," she urgently questioned, desperate for an answer.

"My brother's sick… really sick," he started to tell her, the response only fueling the fires of her curiosity more than they already were.

"Can I help him?" She interrupted his words and thoughts as she tried to slide past the much taller man and into the room, but even in his near panicked state, Sam was far too quick for her. Blocking her way inside, he looked directly into her eyes and silently told her that the inner area of the room was totally off-limits. Slinking back out into the hall, she stared up at him with a sympathetic gaze and put out her offer. "What can I do?"

"Would you go back to my room and grab a couple towels and the blanket from my bed, please? Don't bring them in though, Dean's not exactly in a position that he'd want anyone to see him in… even me," he asked her, gladly taking her up on her offer of assistance.

Nodding her head in understanding, Penny turned from the door and made her way down the hall as Sam turned and made his own way back to his brother, who hadn't voluntarily moved a muscle in the entire time Sam had been gone. Noticing for the first time that Dean's bag rested in the corner of the stall under the built in seat behind the wide-opened door, he started tearing through it for what he hoped his brother had been smart enough to bring up from the car with him.

"Where's the first aid kit Dean," he had to finally ask when he didn't see it amidst the mass of unorganized clothing that had been shoved into the bag.

"Over there… on the shelf," he whispered as he barely raised his head, it seemingly too heavy for his neck to hold up anymore.

Turning to his side, Sam could see that the kit was indeed lying open on the small ledge that was normally reserved for bottles of shampoo and soaps next to him, the suture kit already open and ready for use. Shaking his head at his brother's quivering form and wondering how Dean planned on re-stitching that hole up himself in his current condition, he grabbed the supplies and dropped back down next to him, searching the kit for something even more important than the sutures themselves but coming up totally 

empty.

"Dean, where's the holy water?"

"Don't have any."

"Why not? Dad always makes us keep it in the kit, so why don't you have any in here? Did you use it all yesterday?"

"Sorry little brother, I didn't have any yesterday and I still don't have any now," Dean reluctantly answered, the verbal chastising that was poised and ready to fly sounding more like his father then his brother when it was launched.

"God damn it Dean, how am I supposed to clean this out properly without it? No wonder it's already infected. What the hell were you thinking? Didn't you double check the kit before you took off? You never go after a werewolf with no holy water for exactly this reason," he angrily strung the questions together, not expecting an answer to any of them, their purpose being more of a harsh reminder then actual questions needing to be answered.

"Don't yell at me Sam, please. I didn't know it wasn't in there until I looked for it yesterday and by then it was too late. Just stitch me back up and let me sleep it off, ok?"

"Stitch it back up, huh? Sleep it off, huh? You know what's coming, right?" He rolled his eyes and if Sam didn't know any better, he'd swear Dean actually heard it when he saw him cower slightly. "You seemed fine when you got here, so when did you tear that thing back open, anyway?"

"Your pal Jason tore one or two when he body slammed me. That was no big deal until the rest of them gave way when I was burning those damn bodies. Gasoline knocked me right on my ass when I lit it and that was that," he answered, flipping a finger at the first aid kit that was no longer sitting where Dean pointed before finishing his statement. "I was gonna take care of that myself, you know, until you barged in here."

"I'll bet you were. Wait a second… bodies? Did you just say bodies?" Sam shockingly asked, not quite sure he heard his brother right or if Dean had simply misspoken.

"Did I say what?" Dean's voice was hushed and barely audible anymore as his body started its inevitable slide to the right now that his brain decided that gravity was becoming too much to fight anymore and wanting nothing more than to just rest his head against something other than thin air. Before Sam could open his mouth to respond, he heard the incessant pounding on the door again and after slowly guiding Dean's upper half down to the floor before he fell there on his own and cracked his skull on the unforgiving tile, he raced back to the door to answer it.

"Two towels and one blanket," she announced as she thrust them in and waited for Sam to take them, which he readily did. "What else can I do?"

"Watch the door and don't let anyone in while I try to get him dressed."

"Sam, are you sure you don't need any help in there?" She asked her question again, trying to get a look inside through the barely opened door.

"No, I've got it. Just wait there until I can get him on his feet. I may need your help getting him back my room though," he told her as he closed the door and wished it had a lock, hoping she wouldn't decide to follow.

Returning to his brother's side and not sure whether to be thankful or irritated that he had for the most part passed out, Sam draped one of the clean towels over Dean's lower half to cover him and rolled up the other to place under his head while he pulled the bloodied towel from off his shoulders. When pressing hard against the oozing hole to sop up what fluid remained did nothing to garner a reaction from what Sam thought to be an unconscious man, he hesitantly prepared himself to begin the task of stitching his brother's ripped flesh back together. Drawing in a deep breath, he could clearly hear Dean trying to stifle a quiet moan when he pinched the wound closed and knew that his brother was anything but unconscious.

"This is bad Dean," Sam softly told him as he laid beneath his hands on the now cold floor while his brother's body started shaking again from what had to be fever-induced chills. The sight of not just blood seeping from the laceration as he squeezed it edges closed made Sam wonder if he should be stitching that hole closed at all. "Without any holy water to clean this…"

"Figures," he mumbled right back to shut Sam up, not wanting to hear what he already knew; his body tensing when he felt Sam bury the needle into his already throbbing skin. He grit his teeth tightly together as his baby brother placed the first stitch, then sucked in a full mouthful of air through those clenched teeth for the second, but couldn't contain the cry of pain that forced its way out when Sam dug in for the third, his body mindlessly trying to creep away from Sam every time he touched him. Knowing he had 

many more sutures to go before that hole was closed, Sam knew he had to distract Dean somehow since he didn't seem to be able to distract himself.

"So, you gonna tell me how you really got this?" He asked as casually as possible, keeping his tone calm and collected and hoping Dean would be able to do the same.

"I didn't just scope the place out yesterday," was all he could say as Sam started on stitch number six, the agony of the widest part of the wound being brutally pulled back together almost too much for him to bear as he growled somewhat while he beat a fist hard against the floor.

"I'm halfway there Dean, just relax and let me finish," Sam tried to sound sympathetic but only succeeded in sounding guilty, the thought that what he was doing was causing most of that new pain. "So, you didn't just scope the place out. What happened?"

"She clawed me, that's what happened," was stated in more of a groan then a voice making Sam pretty sure Dean wasn't going to be talking much more.

"You said 'bodies' Dean. Why did you say that," he tried to ask his brother as he drove the needle home for stitch number nine but it was clear that Dean was done, his mind focusing what little energy it still had on keeping his body still down on that floor while his brother unwillingly yet necessarily tortured him. Sam finished the last three stitches as quickly as he could when he saw that Dean was now holding his breath just waiting for the agony to end.

"All done," he thought he vaguely heard and only when Sam finally said those two little words he'd been dying to hear did he expel all the air in his lungs and tried to breathe normally again, the feeling of Sam pressing the last couple pieces of tape against his side draining all of anything that he may have had left. "Can you sit up and put some clothes on? I can't take you out of here butt-ass naked."

"Why not? Who'd notice?" Dean had to ask with a voice muffled by the balled up towel that was acting as a pillow, just the thought of exerting the energy to put on clothes exhausting him even more than he already was.

"Penny would notice, that's who," Sam informed him, clearly stating that they were not alone.

"Who's Penny?" Dean picked his head up to look in his brother's direction and inquired, his interest suddenly peaked.

"My friend that's very impatiently waiting just outside for us to come out now that she knows you're in here and sicker than a dog," Sam added to his all too brief explanation.

"Is she hot?" Dean looked Sam in the eye with his own rather glassy ones and waggled his brows as he asked the question, grinning sheepishly when he did.

"Dean, you've been ripped to shreds by a friggin' werewolf, have a pretty high fever judging by not only the heat coming from your body but how bad those chills are that you're doing your best to hide and can barely sit up and you're asking me if Penny's hot?"

"Priorities Sammy… priorities. Chicks dig it when you're wounded, makes them all Florence Nightingale-like," he shared his warped logic with his little brother, who clearly did not agree.

"Dean, you have the strangest sense of priorities I've ever seen. Now, can you get up off the floor and put some clothes on because I have a feeling it's gonna be a long night and I think we'd be better off spending it in my room instead of on the bathroom floor," Sam told him as he turned to gather up the scattered medical supplies he had strewn about, tossing the gauze, tape, and antibacterial ointment back into the kit and laughing to himself at the thought of why he had wasted it. That stuff wouldn't work on Dean's particular brand of wound anyway.

"Uh, Sam… I think I'm gonna need some help in that department. My head seems to be stuck to the floor," Dean hated to say it, but he really didn't think he could pick his head up off the towel. It was just too heavy and he was far too tired.

"Can you move your arms and legs?" Sam questioned him next as he tried to figure out how he would get his brother back to his room if he couldn't ad was now nothing but dead weight.

"Don't think so, but I'll try."

"Try hard Dean because I don't think I can carry you without pulling at those stitches I just put in and I don't think you want them placed a third time, do you?"

"Didn't even want them the first time, little brother."

"Hey Dean, I hate to say it, but maybe I should just call Dad. He can prob…" Sam made the suggestion as just that, only a suggestion, but the thought it conjured up in the wounded man's already cloudy head was like a hot poker of clarity being driven into his back which forced him to sit upright a little faster than his head and stomach would have liked him to, leaving one to throb and the other to churn.

"No, don't call Dad," Dean cut him off and with a surge of energy that had come from out of nowhere, he 

dragged his entire body up and out of the shower stall so that he was at least sitting on the small bench in the outer, dressing area. "Just give me some clothes, will ya?"

"Your bag's at your feet," Sam gently pointed out, but Dean made no effort to reach down and grab for it.

"If I bend down, I won't get back up. Help me help you help me Sammy, please," Dean rested his head against the wall behind him and chuckled at his pathetic attempt at humor, he himself being the only one to find anything amusing at the off-the-wall movie quote that had a slight Dean twist to it.

"You're such an ass," was all Sam found he could say back as he threw a clean towel over Dean's naked lap before bending down to drag his bag out from under the very seat his brother was sitting on.

"Yeah, but I'm a cute ass," he joked as Sam ignored the comment and started digging through the duffel without a clue as to what was clean and what wasn't. Settling on a semi-wrinkled t-shirt and a relatively fresh looking pair of boxers, he tossed the garments at his brother and waited patiently as Dean did his best to put them on. The boxers had pretty much done him in as instead of bending over to slide his feet through the legs he pulled his legs up to his body, the stretching of the skin tugging on the freshly placed stitches causing him to cringe. With that chore thankfully out of the way, Sam had to help him with the shirt when he couldn't seem to pull it over his own head, but once he was finally half-dressed, Sam slung his brother's bag over his shoulder and held out a hand to him, a hand that he couldn't really focus on with his head now hanging to the side and his eyes closed, his entire face now covered in sweat.

"Come on Dean, stay with it just a little longer. I can't get you down the hall by myself, not without hurting you and the last thing I want is Penny to see is that gaping hole torn open again."

"Yeah, I'm coming," he mumbled as he opened one eye and spied Sam's hand in his face, the effort it took just to grab it more than he thought he had.

On unsteady legs Dean stood as Sam wrapped the blanket Penny had given him around his shoulders, leaving one arm exposed for the shaking man to drape around Sam's neck as he held the blanket closed with the other, doing his best to cover his bare legs. Trying to hold Dean up without aggravating his wounds would prove to be difficult and as Sam wrapped his own arm around Dean's waist to support him, he could feel his body tense as he sucked in a hard breath and held it again. Readjusting his arms position across his brother's damaged side and back, he slowly started guiding Dean in the direction of the exit when he heard him expel the air and start to breathe again. Both brothers took short, clumsy steps down the long hall but eventually reached the door without having to stop once.

With the incredibly long, free arm he still had, Sam grasped the door handle the instant it was within his generous reach and pulled in a quick motion so they wouldn't need to stop their forward progress. Had it not been for the rising heat coming from his brother's body or the way his head rested heavily on his shoulder, Sam probably would have laughed at the site of Penny spilling into the room, her ear clearly pressed against the door the entire time the men had been inside. Quickly regaining her feet and composure, she saw the Dean Winchester his little brother boasted about and was in utter shock at what was now standing before her. Unable to stand on his own, unable to lift his head off his brother's shoulder and bathed in sweat, he was most definitely not what she had pictured.

"Is it the flu? Does he have the flu Sam?" She asked the obvious as she grabbed hold of Dean's elbow, trying to take some of the weight herself so Sam didn't have to bear it all.

"You could say that," he tossed her a confirming response, knowing full well that just about everything they had to look forward to could easily be attributed to that particularly nasty viral infection.

Trudging their way down the hallway back to Sam's room, Penny kicked the door that she had left ajar open fully, allowing Sam to breeze right past her and with his bed blessedly in sight, he gently lowering Dean down onto it into a seated position. Sitting next to him to keep him from slumping in either direction, Sam grabbed the bottle of water atop his nightstand and twisted off the cap, knowing full well he had to get as many fluids into Dean's body as he could now because he would get nothing into him later. Pressing the plastic against his brother's lips, Dean just tried shoving it away with a feeble hand and his attitudinal bark of defiance made Penny nearly jump.

"Get that out of my face Sam," he forcefully ordered, his voice holding more authority then his hands. Trying desperately to just fall backwards into the fluffy mattress underneath him, Sam started putting up his fight.

"Dean, you need water before you dehydrate."

"What I need is for you to leave me alone and let me sleep," he continued his uncooperativeness now that he knew what Sam didn't. He was well beyond the point of putting anything into his stomach now that wouldn't come right back up.

"But werewo…" the concerned younger brother started to say, cutting himself off when he realized 

Penny was standing mere feet from them both and allowing Dean to win the argument solely for the sake of not being able to have it at all. "Please, just try to drink some water and then I'll let you sleep."

Jerking the bottle out of Sam's hand, Dean shook his head and just drank what he thought would be a safe amount, nearly dropping the bottle into his lap when he was finished. Grabbing it before it fell, Sam recapped it and placed it back onto the table before helping Dean's head find the pillow, the warm water now churning in his stomach almost as uncomfortable as the pressure he was putting on his freshly stitched left side. Rolling his body to the left to take the brunt of his weight onto the right and bending his knees up slightly, he closed both eyes and tried his best to finally fall asleep as the wolves poison declared war on his already compromised body.