A/N: Well, guys, I tried to update early, but the site insisted on giving me a hard time. Sorry for all the alerts. Let's hope this time it goes better.

Chapter Twelve

Sam woke up late the next morning, feeling nowhere near refreshed enough, but he just couldn't go back to sleep. He groaned, getting out of bed, and went to the bathroom to relieve the pressure to his bladder. Dean was still asleep when he got out. Sam scratched his head, yawning. His stomach was growling, but he didn't want to go and eat breakfast without Dean. He could use some coffee, though, and he guessed Dean would be grateful to have some when he woke up.

Making up his mind, Sam grabbed the car keys, glancing at the sleeping form of his older brother, and then got out of the motel room. He bought coffee for the both of them in the nearby diner, and even got a few doughnuts to go with it. Sam figured Dean would be up by the time he got back to the room. He was wrong. He hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do next.

Sam decided on some research. He placed the coffee cups and the doughnuts on the small table and took out his laptop, turning it on as he lay back on his bed. On second thought, he brought his own coffee and doughnut to the nightstand before sitting back on the bed, lying against the headboard with the laptop on his stomach and the coffee in his hand. He surfed the web for a while, his mind a thousand miles away, thinking of the events of the previous night.

Putting the coffee down, Sam straightened a little and searched for the local paper on the net, interested to find out more about the fire. He didn't find the paper, but did find the town's news site. Sifting through the gossip and other nonsense, Sam finally found what he was looking for. A witness's account on last night's fire. The house belonged to a young family of three, with a small baby. The baby had suffered from smoke inhalation, but was reported to be in good health. The house was severely burnt, but it didn't burn to the ground. The rest of the information was useless to him, but Sam couldn't help but think that it had been the Demon.

So maybe the signs weren't all there, but his gut told him that it had been the Demon. It would explain his visions. And then Sam's heart began to race. What about the nightmares? Were they prophetic? Was the Demon after Lynn? And why? Because he was involved with her? They only knew each other for a couple of weeks, why would it want her dead? And why did it always happen to him? It just wasn't fair. He was sick and tired of it. He'd never asked for it, for any of it. Why was it so damn difficult to just be normal? No more hunting, no more demons, no more women ending up on the ceiling above his bed… That would be so nice… No more fighting, no more getting hurt, no more… His eyes and thoughts went to his brother.

Dean knew something he wasn't telling him, Sam was sure of it. What happened last night? Sam wondered, Dean was at the scene of the fire, Sam was sure of that. He could smell the smoke in his brother's clothes. Would Dean be stupid enough to go in? Yes. If it was just a fire, Dean wouldn't hesitate. Not for a second. But what if it wasn't just a fire? Did Dean suspect the Demon would attack? How? How would his brother even know where the Demon would attack if Sam had no idea it was even here? And would Dean still go into that fire if he knew the Demon was there? Would he really go in alone? Without even trying to contact Sam?

"Would you stop with the staring, you big freak?" Dean groaned, turning his head towards Sam and pushing himself up from the bed. "What time is it, anyway?" Dean asked. Sam looked at his watch.

"Quarter past nine." He answered. Dean let out a guttural groan he soon regretted. His throat felt raw, and truth be told, he was a little queasy. "I got coffee, if you want. It's cold, but not too bad." Sam offered. Dean scratched the back of his thigh, his hand going absently to his aching ribs as he made his way to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Dean answered nature's call and then washed his hands, leaning over the dirty sink to look at his tired reflection in the mirror. He had to admit, he had looked better than he did right now. Clearing his throat didn't help with the soreness. Wonderful. He brushed his teeth and shaved, his eyes feeling heavy and itchy. They were red, too. And this was definitely not a good hair day. He turned the water on, splashing some on his face. It didn't really help. He groaned. He felt like he had been hit by a car. Again. Now wasn't that just freakin' great?

Dean forced himself out of the bathroom when Sam knocked on the door. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back to bed and sleep for a century or three. Maybe even go back and finish his treatment. It had helped a lot. Well, until the smoke inhalation kicked in, along with the cold and oh, yeah, the Demon. Dean was back to square one again. Well, not exactly; his chest didn't hurt as much as it did before, but he felt weary, weak. Vulnerable even. And Dean hated that feeling.

"Hey, you wanna go for breakfast? I'm starving." Sam said. Dean's stomach lurched and he smothered a groan. No, eating was not that high up his priority list, but he said yes, just to get Sam off his back and keep pretending everything was alright. Truth be told, he wasn't so sure why he kept with the false bravado when all he wanted to do was leave any and all behind and just… But he refused to even finish that thought. He can't leave Sam, not with the Demon out to get him. Not when the Demon was here.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, slumping down on his bed. He needed to change his clothes, but the thought of reaching all the way over to his duffle wasn't nearly as appealing as the thought of going back to sleep. But oh, man, Sam was giving him that look, that worried puppy dog eyes look. So he just gritted his teeth and got dressed, trying his best to keep from retching all over the place.

"Hey, you okay, man? You look a little green." Sam noted.

"I'm fine. Can we just go eat?" Dean retorted. Sam bit his lip and Dean sighed inwardly. Oh, great. A chick flick moment alert. As if he weren't feeling sick enough already. "What is it, Sam?" Dean asked snappishly. Might as well get it over with, he thought. Sam looked at him with those big brown eyes, and then lowered his eyes, suddenly finding the carpet exceptionally interesting. He fiddled with his hands, fidgeting, and Dean rolled his eyes. "You're gonna say something any time soon, Sam, or are we playing charades?"

"I'm sorry." Sam said in a small voice. Dean frowned.

"For what?" he asked, though his tone of voice told Sam Dean wasn't really interested in what he had to say. Not that it was going to stop Sam from apologizing.

"I… I got the dates all mixed up…" Sam admitted, "I thought it was the twenty third last night, or I never would have…"

"Sam," Dean raised a hand, stopping his brother. So Sam forgot about his birthday. Big deal. No one else remembered, either. It wasn't important. No one ever made a big deal out of his birthday. Well, no one except his mother. He could barely remember it now, it was mostly feelings and images, but he did recall his forth birthday. It was the last happy birthday he had had. Everything seemed to go downhill after that.

"No, Dean," Sam went on, "I… I wanted us to do something together. I never meant to leave you alone on your birthday." Sam said apologetically.

"It's okay, Sam." Dean said exasperatedly.

"No, it's not." Sam said quickly. "Look, maybe… maybe we could do something today? Just you and me?" Sam suggested.

"Like what?" Dean asked, just out of curiosity.

"Well, Lynn suggested a nice restaurant, you know, something other than greasy burgers for once." Sam tried, "Or… or we could go for a beer or something…" Sam tried again, seeing the look on Dean's face. Dean raised his brow at the second suggestion, and Sam cursed himself as he remembered Dean tried to refrain from drinking now. "Or, you know, whatever you want to do." Sam stuttered.

"Let's just get some breakfast and a paper. I'm done with this place, time to move on." Dean said gruffly, getting to the door and getting out of the room, leaving a confused and guilt-ridden Sam behind.

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"And what can I get you, sugar?" the middle aged waitress asked, a cigarette bud hanging from her lips as she looked aloofly down at Dean, waiting for his order. Sam had ordered a mushroom omelet, bacon and hash browns. He glanced at Dean, lifting his head from his laptop. Dean didn't really feel like eating. Even the smell made him sick to his stomach.

"Just coffee please," he said, "Black." He added. The waitress scowled, pouring some coffee from the pot in her hand and disappearing quickly.

"Just coffee?" Sam asked, studying Dean. He didn't like the way his brother looked. Add that to the smell of smoke from last night, and Sam was more than a little suspicious. "I thought you said you were hungry?" Sam stared at Dean.

"No, you said you were hungry," Dean corrected, "I just said we should get this breakfast over with."

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"You know, I think AA or someone said that the definition of insanity is asking the same thing over and over again and expecting different answers every time." Dean noted.

"Actually, I think the definition for insanity is going up against a Demon alone." Sam deadpanned. Dean quickly raised his eyes from the paper, locking them with Sam's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded, and then his eyes widened. "You didn't…"

"No. You did." Sam said, testing his brother's reaction. He wasn't sure of it, but he wouldn't put it past his brother and his ginormous ego.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said quickly, almost indifferently, leafing through his paper. Sam exhaled loudly.

"So, last night, you didn't do anything stupid? You know, like oh, I don't know, go up against the Demon and try to rescue that baby all on your moron, stupid-self?" Sam demanded. Dean raised a brow.

"Now, why would I do that?" he asked, "You're psychic boy, if there's a demon here, shouldn't you be the one to know about it? You know, with your 'sneak previews of the horrors, coming soon to a haunted house near you'?" Sam narrowed his eyes, snorting. Dean was being a smart ass. That still didn't mean he wasn't lying through his teeth.

"I'm just saying," Sam tried to change the subject, still scrutinizing his brother, who seemed to do his best to ignore Sam. "I don't even remember the last time you weren't hungry." Dean was about to say something when his face suddenly scrunched up. "Dean?" Sam asked, a little worried. Dean wrinkled his nose, suddenly shrinking into his seat. Sam straightened, getting a little nervous. "Dean?" and then Dean sneezed violently. Sam blinked.

"Ewww." He said, wiping his face, grimacing in disgust.

"Well, great." Dean said, and sneezed again.

"Dean…" Sam started, but Dean raised his hand to stop whatever Sam was about to say.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Dean said, and quickly rushed over to the bathroom. Sam was about to follow him when something caught his eye. Reaching over, he grabbed the paper, turning it over to the first page. There was an article about the fire from last night. Two pictures were printed by the story; one of those was a picture of the burning house. The other, however, was the one that made Sam suck in his breath and curse. His heart started pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his mind around it, to try and make sense of it.

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"So… what are the chances you're done with breakfast? 'Cause I, for one, am ready to get out of here." Dean said in a hoarse voice as he got back from the bathroom, sliding back in his seat across from Sam. And then he noticed the look on Sam's face, the tension in his shoulders. "Sam? What is it?" Dean asked worriedly. Sam gave him the paper and Dean quickly looked at it. He couldn't find anything he hadn't seen before. Nothing that shot up any red flags. "What?"

"Look at the picture, Dean." Sam said in a hoarse voice. Dean frowned, looking at the picture again, and then back at Sam. "That family," Sam said rigidly. Dean raised a brow, gesturing with his hand for Sam to go on. "I saw them." Sam finally managed.

"Yeah? Well, front page, Sam. I think it's safe to say everyone saw them." Dean said, but Sam shook his head.

"No, I mean I saw them." Sam said quietly, not looking at his brother, "Before it happened." He added. Dean gave a slight, slow nod, biting his lip. And then he raised his brow again.

"Wait, if you saw them, why didn't you say…?" Dean started but the rest of his words were lost in a fit of coughing.

"Dean? You okay, man?" Sam asked worriedly. Dean nodded, still coughing, motioning again for Sam to go on as he reached for his coffee. "Dean…"

"Answer the question." Dean coughed. Sam sighed.

"I didn't think it meant anything." He admitted, lowering his eyes. Dean took a long swig of his coffee, taking a deep breath.

"What do you mean you didn't think it meant anything? Seeing a family go up in flames, I can pretty much say it's right up our ally…"

"Yeah, I know, Dean, alright?" Sam snapped angrily. "It's just… I don't know," he shook his head, "It's… My visions… They're screwed up somehow." Sam added in an undertone. Dean raised a brow, finishing his coffee.

"And you're just realizing it now?" Sam glowered at him.

"No, I mean, I think I'm seeing more than one at a time." Sam explained a moment later. Dean scratched his brow. Damn, it was hot in here. He did his best to stay alert, to keep his attention on his brother's words, but his mind was swimming and a pulsing headache placed itself behind his eyes. Oh, man, I'm gonna have to let Mopie drive…

"More than one? What…?"

"Remember that apartment? The one with the poltergeist?" Sam asked, leaning forward. Dean gave a slight nod. Even if he didn't remember, his ribs were quick to remind him. Sam cocked his head to the side. "Well, remember I said that it was the place from my vision and that you said it was impossible because the guy didn't even have a family? It's because I never saw the guy." Sam said, his eyes flicking to something behind Dean, and quickly returning to his brother. "I saw the apartment, and I saw a family." Sam said, pointing at the picture on the front page. "This family." He added.

"Oh." Dean said, wiping his brow and masking it by running his hand through his hair.

"Oh?" Sam choked, "Dean…!"

"Yeah, fine, Sammy, I gotta hit the bathroom again." Dean stuttered, scrambling to his feet and hurrying towards the bathrooms again.

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"So, what's gonna happen now?" Sam asked as the two of them entered their motel room. Dean walked past him and Sam couldn't help but notice his brother's light swaying. Dean looked a little off. Probably a cold, Sam figured and cringed. Dean was impossible when he was sick. He hated being sick, and felt that if he were miserable, then everyone else should be at least as miserable, if not more so. Man, he could be so irritating when he wanted to be.

Dean sneezed, walking over to the bathroom and coming out with a roll of toilet paper. "Now we pack and get the hell out of this place. Been hanging out here for too long already." Dean said, wiping his brow again. Sam narrowed his eyes. It seemed like Dean was having a fever.

"Where would you like us to go?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on his brother as the older hunter reached for his duffle. Dean sighed, grabbing a couple of shirts and shoving them in his bag.

"Wherever. Just hit the road, I guess. Like always." Dean shrugged. "Hey, you could go say a special goodbye to your girlfriend, make her miss you, huh?" Dean winked, smirking, and nudged Sam.

"Dean…" Dean made an innocent face, and then smirked. Sam shook his head, huffing and rolling his eyes.

"What?" Dean asked innocently, and then slumped on his bed. "Look, whatever dude. Tell her, make out with her, become a monk for all I care, just pack up your shit and let's get going, okay?" Dean said, coughing again. He lay down, his legs dangling down on the floor, and closed his eyes. He only meant to close his eyes for a couple of seconds, and then he'll go back to packing.

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"Dean?" Dean forced his eyes open and blinked a couple of times. "Hey, sorry to wake you, but your fever's gone up again, I need you to take these." Sam said. Dean blinked a couple more times until he could focus on the pills in Sam's hand and the glass of water in his other hand.

"Huh?"

"Just take these, Dean, okay?" Sam asked, reaching the pills closer to his brother. Dean looked questioningly at Sam, and Sam smiled at him, urging him to take the pills. Looking down, Dean realized he was in bed, tucked in all the way to his chest. He also noticed it was dark outside. It wasn't dark when he closed his eyes.

"Wha's going on?" Dean asked, and started coughing. Sam grimaced.

"I think your fever's gone up again." he said, "Take the pills, Dean." Dean hesitated a moment, but the look on Sam's face propelled him to take the pills. Sam smiled, nodding in satisfaction and took the empty glass away from Dean. Dean's fever went up to 102.4 the last time Sam had checked, but it had been three hours ago. Just the fact that Dean didn't even stir when Sam put the thermometer in his ear was worrying enough.

Dean leaned back into the pillow, closing his eyes again, and Sam got up, walking over to the bathroom to refill the glass with tap water.

"Hey, Sam?" Sam quickly walked over to his brother, lines of worry etched on his face. He tried smiling at Dean, but the older hunter didn't even look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Did we leave town yet?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam said, sitting back in the chair he's been sitting in for the past few hours, watching his brother. Dean was soaked in sweat, his cheeks flushed with fever. Sam hoped the pills will work soon. Dean was notorious for spiking fevers.

"Why not?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Because you're sick," Sam said, "you need to lie down, Dean."

"Bullshit," Dean croaked, "you just want more smooch time with your girlfriend." At that, Sam smiled.

Dean was asleep again in minutes, and Sam used the chance to check his fever again, grimacing when the reading came out 103.6.

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Sam was pacing the room nervously. Dean was sleeping, just like he has been for the past day and a half. As Sam expected, his brother's fever showed no sign of breaking. He tried forcing the older man to drink as much as he could, and even tried giving Dean some toast, but it seemed all Dean was interested in was sleep.

Sam jumped when the phone started ringing. Dean's phone. It took Sam a while to find it, cursing under his breath. Why can't he ever just clean up after himself? Unfortunately, by the time Sam finally found the cell phone, he had already missed the call. Apparently, the forth missed call. Sam scratched his head, wondering when he had missed all the other calls. Probably when he went out to get some food or cough syrup for Dean. And then his own cell started ringing. Sam cursed, tossing Dean's phone onto the table and reaching for his own. His father's number flashed on the screen and he quickly answered it.

"Dad?"

"Sammy? You boys okay?" John asked. Sam eyed Dean, and sighed, slumping down on his own bed.

"Yeah, we'll be hitting the road soon." Sam said. Their father never really cared about them getting sick, Sam doubted he'd start caring now.

"Your brother's still giving me the silent treatment?" John asked, and Sam raised a brow. Is that what Dean's been doing? Sam glanced at Dean's prone form. "Sam?"

"When did you call him?" Sam asked faintly.

"About a week ago. Left a message, too. Sam, you tell your brother I've been patient, but I'm not gonna take this shit anymore. He'd better start answering my calls, that's an order." The vein in Sam's forehead started to pulse as Sam clenched his jaw, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Like hell it is."

"Excuse me?" his father's voice sounded both shocked and enraged.

"The last time you tried calling him was a week ago?" Sam spat through clenched teeth. He went on before his father had had the chance to respond. "You do realize Dean's birthday was three days ago, right?" he snapped, his voice rising, his own anger and guilt laced with each word. He was mad at his dad for expecting Dean to be okay with everything that had happened when he didn't even bother to wish his eldest a happy birthday. He was angry at his dad for not being there, and he was furious with himself for forgetting, too. Dean may have trusted their father, but he counted on Sam much more than he counted on their dad, at least that's how Sam felt. And the fact that he had forgotten, even if he had already apologized and tried to make things right, made him feel guilty, made him feel like he somehow let Dean down. He didn't plan on doing it again.

John was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, subdued, maybe even rueful.

"Sam…"

"Forget it, dad. I don't really think he expected us to remember." Sam snapped. He remembered how surprised, how shocked Dean seemed when he had told him he had gotten him a gift. It was almost as if Dean really didn't expect anything, and that made Sam's heart ache.

"Put him on the phone, Sam." John said. Sam glanced at his sleeping brother. There was no way he was going to wake Dean up for this.

"I can't, dad." He said.

"Sam," there was a hint of warning and a trace of plea in that one word, and Sam sighed.

"I really can't, dad. He's sleeping." Sam said.

"Sleeping?" the disbelief in his father's voice was apparent.

"Yes, sir."

"It's the middle of the afternoon, Sam." John noted.

"Well, he still is." Sam said stubbornly. "Look, dad, he's sick, okay?" he added after a pregnant moment.

"Sick?" John sighed. "Would you tell him I called? Ask him to call me back?"

"I'll tell him you called." Sam said. That was the best he could do. And then John hung up. There were no goodbyes, no 'see you later'. Sam never expected there to be. He wondered if Dean would.

TBC

A/N: Well, initially, John was supposed to come help take care of Dean, but then Sam started yelling at him, so now he won't let me write him back. Don't worry, Sam will take care of his brother. And there will be plenty of surprises… Want to know what's gonna happen? Reviews might help… ;)