A/N: I really appreciate the wonderful reviews. And thanks everyone for the alerts and favs.

A/N 2: Just a reminder. # ... # denotes Sam's typed words.

The first thing he became aware was a rock digging into his ass. The second was that the volume of the howling noise in his head was almost bearable. He might have sighed in relief, he certainly felt the huff of air leaving his throat and mouth, but the rock took priority. He was sitting up, leaning against something, the rock grinding through the back of jeans and into his right butt cheek. He tried to shift away, and whatever it was he was leaning against suddenly shifted behind him – Sam, he guessed - and he felt what had to be his brother's orangutan sized arm constrict across his chest. He cracked his eyes open and looked up to see strangers surrounding him, some looking at him, all with their mouths moving silently, and slammed his eyes shut again. Fucking hell, what was with the crowd?

"Sa ... Sam." He could feel the vibration of his voice stutter and stop. He tried to push at Sam's arm but raising his arms was killing him. What the hell? He felt something near his mouth, and opened his eyes to see a water bottle. He forced his hand up to hold it, but it was mostly Sam holding the bottle to his mouth as he drank.

"Gotta move, Sam. Ass is killing me." This time he leaned back hard against Sam, bracing himself and hoisted his hips up and to one side. He cautiously opened his eyes again, looking up, to see the crowd gone, but the fresh hell of emergency vehicles pulling into the parking lot. He concentrated, hoping to be able to hear the sirens, but if the sound was there, it was weaving in and out and under the howl of wind.

"Crap, help me up before they get their hands on me", but Sam only held him tighter. He cranked his head around to direct a glare at his brother. "I'm going to get you for this, you know that, right?" Sam just smiled at him. Soon enough, Dean could feel Sam's chest vibrate as he talked to the EMTs.

"I'm fine. Sam, if you would let go, I'd get up." Sam relaxed his grip, and he was able to pull up his knees. He could feel Sam talking behind him, and when one of the EMTs offered his hand, Dean grabbed it. The EMT pulled him up but let go just before Dean could get his balance. He sat down heavily on a gurney he didn't know had been moved up behind him. He was on his back before he knew it, being poked and prodded, cleaned, pressed, and wrapped. "No hospital." An EMT was standing over him, signing quickly. He closed his eyes and groaned, shaking his head. He'd only been deaf two fucking days. He opened his eyes again and tried to pitch his voice a little louder. "No hospital." A couple of heads turned, and mouths opened, but nothing else. He pulled himself up. "I'm fine. Sam! Tell them no hospital."

He looked around and saw Sam sitting just inside one of the ambulances, waving at him. There was a tech hovering by his side. "Sam, you OK?" Sam made a gesture, hand flat, motioning down. "I'm talking too loud?" Sam and the techs around them all nodded. He said in what he hoped was a quieter voice. "Are you OK?" Sam nodded again, but when he craned his head, he saw the tech wiping blood off his brother's arm.

He hopped off the gurney, and shrugged off the hands on his elbows and his shoulders. He glared at the technician closest to him. "I'm walking over there", he growled, pointing at Sam. He took a step or two, feeling steadier almost immediately, and stalked the yard or two over to Sam. There was a honking big nail in Sam's right arm, just below his elbow. Dean peered around the EMT – it went right through his arm.

"OK, he goes to the hospital. His last tetanus shot was two years ago. He's not allergic to anything we know about…" Sam tapped his shoulder, making him look over. He was shaking his head.

"They need to know this stuff before you go in… and Sam, you're a mess. And that arm needs stitches."

Sam was shaking his head, and talking to someone next to Dean. One of the techs started writing on a piece of paper.

YR BRO SAYS NO HOSPITAL

"For me, yeah, but he needs to go. That's got to come out."

NOT BAD. WE'LL TAKE IT OUT HERE. JUST NEEDS A STITCH.

"A stitch?" He stepped forward and leaned over the EMTs shoulder, only to meet Sam's hand holding him back. The tech was putting the paper in front of him.

ITS OK! FLESH ONLY

Dean looked up and Sam nodded and smiled until they numbed his arm and pulled the nail out with a pair of pliers, then he looked a little pale.

Dean said, "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

Sam cracked a small smile, shaking his head. Dean watched critically as the doctor, it turned out, irrigated, stitched and bandaged Sam's arm. The doctor gave Sam two more injections, two prescriptions, and a hand out of the ambulance before walking over to another injured person.

"Let's get you back to the hotel, Sam. Can you walk all right?"

Sam mouthed 'Yes' and nodded as he exaggerated his steps toward the car.

Dean glanced toward the car then back at his brother. "Why's the door open, Sam?" He watched Sam's eyes widen. "The door was open during that wind? Are my cassettes OK?" Sam hunched his shoulders and looked down. Dean ran for the car.

He finally got to drive. It was eerie and wrong not to hear the engine turn over. The only way he knew, for sure, that it had started was the vibration he felt through the seat and the steering wheel. He missed the sound of that throaty engine almost as much as he missed hearing Sam's voice. He tapped on the accelerator to feel it rumble through him again. Sam touched his arm. He glanced over.

"Just feeling it to make sure it's on." Sam still looked worried. "I'm feeling fine, Sam. You're the one with the injury. Your arm could get infected, and you're got bandages up and down …", he caught what he was going to say. "You should have stayed in the car. Or gone to the hospital." Sam was shaking his head. "Let me get you back to the hotel before you turn into a solid bruise. Then I'll go fill your prescriptions."

Sam nodded and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. By the time Dean got back to the motel and maneuvered Sam into bed, the energy he'd found earlier was starting to wane. He drove to a pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, and waited so long he almost fell asleep standing up. He shook himself awake and looked around. This was his first time out in public without Sam since the freak wind.

And god, he hated everything about it. He was jumping at everything. He couldn't hear the announcement that his scrips were filled, so he had to go up to check. When he got to the counter, the young tech started to hit on him, talking away, and casting knowing eyes at him. When he told her he couldn't hear, he watched her expression change from one of interest to one of pity. On the drive back, he started wondering how long it was going to take to find this thing and kill it, because he was getting seriously pissed off.

He almost broke Mrs. Pelham's arm when she drifted up behind him in the parking lot. He probably yelled at her, but seriously the touchy-feely thing with his ass wasn't getting any funnier. He marched back to the room and almost dropped the pharmacy bag when the door handle moved just as he touched it. Couldn't hear the old lady, couldn't hear the door lock moving, he was jumping around in a panic, falling asleep standing up, and that chick had pitied him.

"Fuck it, Sam, get out of my way." He pushed past him into the room, tossing the prescriptions onto Sam's bed, then stopped with his back to the door. "I'm having a very bad day. If I don't punch something soon, I'm going to kill someone." He started to pace around the room. He saw something out of the corner of his eye, and spun so fast, he almost overbalanced. It was Sam moving to the table to open up the laptop.

"More typing?" He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "You should be in bed."

Sam motioned him over to sit next to him.

"How's your arm?"

Sam made an OK sign.

Dean sat heavily on the chair, dodging Sam's hand as he tried to feel his forehead. "I said I'm having a bad day, Sam, not that I'm sick."

# What happened at the park? #

He looked away from the computer and right at Sam. "What do you mean? There was a storm, you called, and I came back … not sure why I was on the ground …" He ground to a halt. He really hadn't thought about it.

Sam gestured to the laptop again.

# Remember anything? #

"Just coming back from the beach, clouds, my head was killing me." He looked up and squinted. "Clouds, just clouds, and wind, and ... the noise in my ears was a lot quieter when I woke up." He looked back at Sam. "Although it's getting loud again now. What did you see?"

Sam stared at the screen for a moment and tapped a pencil against this bottom lip. He finally typed:

# Nothing #

"You had to think about 'nothing'? I so believe you. You can't even lie well when you type." He ignored Sam's glare. "You have a plan? 'Cause if you don't, I want to check out the golf course and the fish place." He checked his watch. "It'll take a couple of hours, but it's not even Noon. So, if you're feeling up to it," he pushed up from the table, "we can go anytime."

All Sam had as warning was Dean clapping his hands to his ears before he dropped like a rock. Sam wasn't fast enough to stop his brother from hitting the floor, but he caught enough of Dean's shirt to prevent him from banging his head on the table on the way down. Sam got his hands under Dean's arms and helped him up and over to his bed in one heave. He got out the thermometer from the first aid kit, and practically had to sit on Dean to keep it in his ear long enough to register.

Sam knew he should have been more suspicious of Dean's burst of energy after the storm at the park. He was grateful for it, because he sure couldn't have driven back after the doctor gave him those shots, but he should have checked Dean sooner.

He waited impatiently until the thermometer beeped. Dean's fever was back up to over 102. What the hell was causing this? Dean'd been practically asleep prior to the storm, on some kind of spooked out power trip during, and now, he was down, again. Sam wondered if the pain redoubling just when Dean was getting ready to investigate was a clue. That could help his research. That and whatever this was seemed to be sucking him dry. Sam had an uneasy feeling, something was teasing at him, something he should be remembering …

Without getting up, Sam reached over to the bedside table, and got the prescription bottles. He leaned forward and lifted Dean's head with a hand on the back of his neck, banked up pillows behind him, and gently lowered Dean down onto them. He was conscious but his eyes were still screwed shut, but his arms and hands had relaxed enough that Sam was able to bring them away from his head and down by his side. Sam put a hand on Dean's arm and squeezed, then squeezed again.

Dean groaned and muttered something obscene before cracking his eyes open enough for Sam to see his pupils. He held out a couple of pills, and showed them to his brother before putting them in Dean's hand. Dean swallowed the pills, and most of the bottle of water Sam snagged from the table and handed him.

Dean cleared his throat, and said, "What happened? Did I pass out?"

Sam nodded. He watched as Dean shook his head, and then winced.

"I thought I was doing better."

Sam pulled out the pad, but snagged the laptop instead after Dean groaned in frustration again. He angled the laptop screen toward Dean and typed:

# You stay here. I'll go to sites, interview #

"I hate this, Sam. What good am I on a goddamned hunt if I can't even stand up?"

# I'll find it #

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes. "No, not by yourself. Give me a minute and I'll be ready to go with you."

Sam nodded again. He stepped into the bathroom and wWhen he came out a few minutes later, Dean was sound asleep, not even stirring at Sam's light touch on his arm. He plugged Dean's phone into its charger, set it on the bedside table with a note, and gently closed the door behind him.

The sites were as much a bust as the others, these were just further apart. He'd had to drive north almost twenty miles, plodding through heavy traffic to the golf course, then south, past the motel, over more bridges and past squat lighthouses to reach the fishery. Sand was banked so high on his left, he couldn't see more than glimpses of the ocean, and the sound side was marsh, scrub, marsh, scrub … The houses were identical down to the construction and wood, and to his jaundiced eye, they began to look like neatly stacked piles of gray driftwood. He reached Avon at 4:00 o'clock, now almost 50 miles south of the motel, and waved a silent EMF meter around the deserted fishery.

At least he could see the water here. He put his hands on his hips and stared out over the ocean. He needed time to think. This was their fourth day, and they were no further to solving this thing than they had been when they arrived. Instead, Dean's hearing was gone, replaced by the howl of hurricane winds, something Sam couldn't even begin to imagine, and it hurt to watch Dean's energy practically leeching out through his skin.

And damn, if not being able to talk to his brother wasn't making him so frustrated he practically couldn't see straight. Dean should be right there with him. They should be working on this case together, tossing ideas around, Dean seeing patterns, Sam doing his Encyclopedia Brown, arguing about music, restaurants. They only had so much time before the deal came due and to lose any of it was unacceptable.

He shouted in frustration, pounding his fist against this thigh. He had nothing. No local ghost, spirit, fugly, could do what this thing did in nature, let alone what it had done to his brother. What had Dean called it? A bitch. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Dean how he knew the thing was female, but he was going to check that off as Clue Number One. Dean's loss of hearing officially became Clue Number Two. Clue Three – storms, not sand, beaches, oceans, just storms. He'd spent too much time looking where it wasn't. And he grudging admitted, Clue Four was Dean's freaky behavior at the park. He was involved more than either of them knew.

He climbed over a dune, through and over the fishery buildings and got back to the Impala. He leaned against the car and texted a message to Dean.

# U OK? Hedng bck. 2 hrs #

If Dean was awake, he should answer pretty quickly. He scratched his chin and let a flight of brown pelicans skimming just over the water catch his attention. After a few minutes, he ducked in the car and started north. He'd left Dean alone in the room for the better part of four hours. If he stayed in the room he'd be fine – the room was warded. But knowing Dean … his heart rate suddenly shot up. He had a very bad feeling about his brother. He pushed down on the gas, cursing the two lane road and every single redneck clogging up the road ahead of him, driving at exactly the speed limit in tricked out pick-up trucks sprouting fishing poles like antennas.

He'd kill his brother if he'd left the room.