A/N: As promised, a second update. I mentioned it before, my knowledge in American geography is pretty basic. Therefore, the towns and city names in this story are made up.

A/N2: There is a small reference to my story 'Just a Kid', but you don't have to read that one to undertand what's happening here.

Chapter Fourteen

Lynn pressed her lips to Sam's brow, waking him up. It took a couple of seconds for Sam to get his eyes to focus. Lynn smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair.

"Hey," Sam said, pulling her closer and kissing her.

"Hey," Lynn said back, pulling slowly away. "I'm sorry to wake you, sweetie, but it's really late and I've got to get home." She said. Sam frowned, stretching. It made Lynn smile. He looked like a five year old kid when he did that, he was so cute she just couldn't resist kissing him again.

"What time is it?" Sam asked blurrily, sitting up in bed.

"Half past one, I think." Lynn said, getting to her feet and shouldering her purse.

"In the morning?" Sam asked, scratching his head.

"You know, you could probably go back to sleep." Lynn said, "I doubt your brother will be up for a while."

"Dean!" Sam cried, tossing the cover away and jumping out of the bed and over to his brother's side.

"His fever's down," Lynn noted, "I bet by tomorrow he'll be over most of it." She said, "I woke him up a few hours ago. He ate the soup, but not much else. I'm pretty sure he'll be really hungry tomorrow. I'll stop by, bring you guys some food." Sam touched Dean's brow. Lynn was right, the fever was down. Sam guessed it was no more than 101.5 at the moment. He breathed a sigh of relief, turning to look at Lynn.

"Thanks, Lynn, really. For everything." He said. She smiled at him.

"Oh, don't mention it. It's what girlfriends do." She said offhandedly, not missing the way Sam flinched. "Well, I'm off," she said, pecking him on the cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow after class, okay sweetie?"

"Um… uh... yeah. Yeah, sure." Sam said distractedly. Lynn hid her grin until she was out the door. What can she say, he was cute. Her Father could pick worse guys for her to be with, after all.

Sam stumbled over to a chair, a little stunned. Lynn was his girlfriend? When has that happened? Okay, so he's been seeing her for a few weeks. He'd even go out to say they were… dating. And okay, there was this one night… Not that he'd mind a repeat of that, but to go as far as calling her his girlfriend? She wasn't his girlfriend, was she? He scratched his head again. Jess was his girlfriend. It was too hard to call anyone else that. It would mean he got over Jess, and he didn't. Not really. Not yet.

And besides, he still kept in touch with Sara. He really liked her, and Dean liked her, too. Lynn was… It was only supposed to be for a few days, just until they left town, but they've stayed here for so long already… He had a girlfriend. Huh. That still left the question of was it a good thing or not. And how he was going to break it to her that as soon as Dean got better, this town would be so far in their rear view mirror they won't even remember it was even there… He had a girlfriend. He still wasn't really sure how that happened.

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It appeared Lynn was right. Dean woke up sometime after noon the next day, his fever practically gone. He was starving and the two of them ate the entire right side of the Italian takeout menu. Dean was irritating again, ordering Sam around, making stupid jokes and complaining a lot – a sure sign that he was feeling a hell of a lot better.

"Hey Sammy?"

"It's SAM!" Sam snapped, for the umpth time.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean shrugged, coughing. "Think you can get me another pillow? Or would you just try to exorcise it?" Dean smirked devilishly and Sam groaned. That was the fifth pillow joke that day. He was happy Dean was feeling better. He really was, because that meant Sam could finally just kill him! Hmm, strangling him with a pillow…poetic justice…

"You're never going to let it go, are you?" Sam asked, tossing a pillow at his brother.

"Hell, no!" Dean smirked, shoving the pillow under his head and flicking channels on the TV.

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"Hello?" Sam muttered sleepily, quickly wiping the drool from his face and trying to focus his eyes on the small digital alarm clock by the bed. Five past six in the morning? Who the hell could be calling this freaking early?

"Dean?" Of course. Dad. And this is Dean's phone. Sam grunted, sneaking a peek at his sleeping brother. For the slightest of moments, he thought to wake Dean up and go back to sleep. This was Dean's phone, after all. But on second thought, Dean's been miserable enough this past week, and he did have this terrible nightmare. Sam might as well let him sleep.

"No, dad, it's me." Sam said sleepily, smothering a yawn.

"Sammy." John said, and Sam could swear there was disappointment in his voice. "How are you boys doing?" John asked.

"Well, we were sleeping peacefully." Sam started, that is, until he remembered who it was he was talking to. "I mean, we're fine, sir." He amended quickly.

"Your brother feeling better?" John asked. Sam glanced at Dean, who kicked his covers off the bed. Again. He had been tossing and turning all night, coughing and sneezing, and that was when he wasn't having those nightmares. Still, it was obvious he was doing his best not to wake Sam up. As if Sam was really sleeping.

"Yes, sir." Sam said, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Good." John said, "Good." He repeated a moment later, and Sam wondered what he was doing calling so early just to ask that. "I… I have a job for you boys." Of course. Good old dad. Calling to check up on us just to make sure we're all fine and well before he sends us to our possible death. You know, make sure we're okay so that we'd have at least a couple of seconds before Beastie kills us. How nice of him, Sam thought bitterly.

"Sam? You still there?"

"Yes, sir." Sam answered, and then swallowed, getting off the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and hoping it would be enough to block out all the yelling.

"A friend of mine called me the other day. There's a spirit in Galehaven that needs taking care of. It's been giving these people a really hard time…"

"No." Sam said, closing the toilet lid and sitting down.

"Excuse me?" Sam swallowed.

"You heard me. We're not going hunting. Not now." Sam said assertively.

"Sammy,"

"No, dad. No way. Dean's been sick, really sick, and he's just getting better. We're not going hunting until he's all better." Sam said, "Why won't you do it, if it's so important?" Sam demanded. John let out a long breath, and Sam swallowed again, preparing for his father's wrath.

"I think I know where the Demon's gonna attack next." John said instead, catching Sam off guard. "I'm already on my way, I can't waste any time chasing a spirit." Sam sucked in his breath.

"The Demon?" he asked, "Where?" but got no answer. "Dad, you've got to let us come! We can help you…"

"No!" John cut him off quickly, in a tone of voice that clearly said 'don't mess with me on this one'."

"But dad…"

"I said no, Sammy!"

"Why not?" Sam asked, knowing he probably sounded like a little boy, but not really caring. He had a score to settle with this Demon, much so now, after all that happened the last time. This was personal. He wanted this, almost as much as his father did.

"You said it yourself, Sammy, your brother's not feeling all too well. I can't risk it." John answered and Sam snorted.

"Never stopped you before." He noted.

"Sam!" there was a hint of warning in John's voice, but Sam didn't care.

"Dad, we need to do this together, we need to put this behind us, all of us!"

"Out of the question, Samuel! I don't want you boys anywhere near that thing this time, you hear me!" John demanded.

"But dad…"

"No buts, Sam! That's an order!" John barked, "Besides, I need you guys to take care of that spirit."

"You do it." Sam said, "If it's so important, you go after the spirit. We'll go after the Demon." Sam said. He could practically hear his father grinding his teeth in anger.

"Sam…" John said impatiently, "It's about a five hour drive from where you are. I'll text you the coordinates. I want you boys there tomorrow, at the latest, you hear me?"

"No!" Sam insisted. "Dad," Sam exhaled loudly, shaking his head. "Dad, I think there's something Dean's not telling us. I think there's something wrong with him." There was a long pause before John spoke.

"Yeah, me too, Sam. But your brother is strong. If anyone can bounce back, it's him." He said, trying to sound reassuring. Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He was less than convinced. It seemed like John has picked up on Sam's hesitation. "It's just a simple salt and burn, Sammy. You really don't think he's up to it? You really think it's that bad?" John asked. Sam hesitated. He wasn't sure, but he was more than grateful to hear concern in his father's voice.

"No," Sam said finally. "It's just… He's always tired. Always. And there's this thing with the painkillers… It's been months, dad, and he's still using prescription meds."

"And you think he has a problem?" John asked in a small voice. It has happened before, twice. The first time was back when the boys were kids, when John started going on longer and longer hunts. The second time was just after Sam left for school. Dean had been miserable for weeks, until he suddenly started acting weird. That's when John found out about the drugs. John just counted his blessings that both times he had found out before it became a real problem.

"No," Sam said quickly, "at least, I don't think so. I mean, I checked a couple of times, the bottle is mostly full. I don't think he's addicted or anything, but still… I don't know, dad, I don't like it."

"Look, Sammy," John sighed, "you boys take care of that spirit, and I'll do my best to take care of the Demon once and for all. And then we'll get together, alright? The three of us, we'll stick together for a while, take care of your brother. Take a little break from… everything. What do you say?" Sam smiled a small smile. That sounded so good in theory. He knew though, the chances of finding intelligent life on a Mars bar were better than the chance that was ever going to happen.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Sam said, scratching his bristled cheek, "I really think he needs a break…"

"Jeez, it was just a cold, Sam." Sam jumped, startled when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Dean stepped in.

"Dean…"

"That my phone?" Dean asked, grabbing it from Sam. "Hello?"

"Dean," John said, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat.

"Oh. Hi, dad." Dean said, less than enthusiastically.

"How are you feeling, son?" John asked.

"I'll feel better once Sam gets out of the bathroom." Dean said. "And I'm fine." He added stubbornly. "You got a job for us?"

"It can wait." John hesitated, "I mean, if you're not up to it…"

"Who says I'm not up to it?" Dean asked irritably, glaring at Sam, "Sam just doesn't want to leave here 'cause he's finally getting some action." He said, smirking at the horrified look on Sam's face.

"So… you're okay?" John asked, making sure.

"I'm always okay. What's the job?"

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"Quit it!" Dean said irritably, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Sam averted his eyes, looking out the window at the quickly changing scenery. What was going on between Dean and their dad? It couldn't be just that night at the cabin, they spoke after that. Dean seemed fine…

"I said quit it, Sam!" Dean spat, and Sam quickly averted his eyes again. He didn't even realize he kept staring at Dean, but he couldn't help it. He was going to find out what's wrong with… "Seriously, dude, if you don't stop with the staring, I'm pulling over and making you walk!" Dean snapped. Sam offered a small smile, but Dean's eyes were intent on the road ahead. His jaw was set, his body tense. Sam wasn't sure if that was the result of the phone call or of Sam's unintentional staring. It always did get on Dean's nerves when Sam would just sit and stare at him. It was one of the best ways to get what he wanted as a kid.

Sam averted his eyes again, but there wasn't much to look at. He opened his notebook, rereading their dad's instructions, and found himself reading the same line over and over again. It's funny, he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading without loud music blaring in the background. How's that for ironic? He frowned. Why wasn't Dean listening to the CDs he bought him?

"Alright, Sam, that it!" Dean veered the car over to the side so quickly that Sam had hit his head on the window, before slamming on the breaks so hard it made Sam wince at the contact with the seatbelt.

"Ow!" Sam bit out accusingly.

"Out!" Dean said angrily, not looking at Sam.

"Dean!"

"I warned you, Sammy, you're walking from here!"

"Oh, come on, Dean, you can't be serious!" Sam shrieked. Dean's only answer was to lean over Sam and open the passenger side door, glaring at Sam expectantly. "Come on, man, I didn't mean it! Look, I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again." Sam said quickly.

"Out, Sam!"

"Fine, fine, I get the message. No more staring. Got it." Sam said, but Dean just crossed his hands over his chest. "Dean… Dude, you're not really gonna make me walk, so you can drop the badass attitude, okay?" Dean narrowed his eyes, starting the car again. Sam breathed in relief. In all honesty, he really thought Dean was going to make him walk.

"You're doing it again!" Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Dean, we need to talk." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine, keep staring, freak." He said, bringing the car back on the road. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. If there was ever a catastrophic nuclear accident that wiped out all life on earth, all that would survive would be cockroaches, and Dean Winchester – just to prove that he was more stubborn than death itself. "Would you just take a picture? It'll last longer!" Dean muttered through gritted teeth. Sam sighed, looking away. On second thought, he turned the radio on. "Sam!"

"All right, all right…" and Sam looked away again.

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"Just coffee?"

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"My… Dean, you haven't eaten all day, and you order just coffee? Decaf?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm not hungry." Dean said, toying with the salt shaker. Sam snorted.

"You? Not hungry?"

"Yeah, Sam! I'm not hungry!" Dean snapped. Sam blinked a couple of times.

"But… decaf? Seriously?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Better than that mocha-latte-chai-chick thing you're having." Dean shrugged.

"But… decaf?" Dean rolled his eyes, sipping from his coffee. He did his best not to grimace at the taste. Decaf? What the hell was he thinking? And then his chest constricted again. Oh, yeah. That. Decaf. Well, not gonna happen again, he'd rather die than have to drink this disgusting excuse for coffee again. "So… how is it?" Sam asked, sipping his own coffee.

"It's…" Disgusting? Revolting? Poor excuse for coffee? An insult to coffee everywhere? "Okay." Dean said, and Sam snorted.

"Yeah, I can see how much you like it."

"Bite me." Dean muttered, taking another, cautious sip of his coffee. He tried his best to warn his taste buds to shut down. Unfortunately, they didn't listen to him. Damn, that thing was nasty. And did Sam have to snigger? "Shut up!"

Sam took a bite out of his turkey sandwich, looking at his older brother in amusement. "You sure you don't won't anything to eat?" he asked.

"Yeah, Samantha. And would you stop with the staring? Dude, you got a crush on me or something?" Sam nearly choked on his sandwich. "I mean, I know I'm hot, and the other day, you did strip me…"

"Wh- I was getting you in the shower! You had a fever of 105!" Sam sputtered.

"Uh huh." Dean raised a brow, leaning forward. "Let's just get things straight, little brother, no pun intended," Dean smirked. "This handsome devil is into chicks. And, though, you do act like one most the time, it's the body parts that count in this case." Sam glared at his smug older brother.

"You're sick." He said, "Seriously, you need therapy." Sam muttered, making Dean smirk as he leaned back in his seat. A smile spread on Sam's lips as he imagined Dean in group therapy. Oh, yes, that attracted more then a few looks from the other patrons of the diner, since Sam just couldn't control his giggles at the thought of Dean, sitting in a circle, holding hands and talking about his feelings.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Dean was shaking his head, "I can't take you anywhere!"

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"So, what are we going to do now?" Sam asked as they left the diner. He had gotten them both a couple of sandwiches to go, just in case. After all, that turkey sandwich was one of the best he's ever had. It even had fresh vegetables in it. Real vegetables. The kind that actually had some vitamins in them. He decided Dean didn't need to know that part about the sandwiches, though. Dean glanced at him over the roof of the car as he unlocked it.

"We could go scout the house, see what we're dealing with." He suggested. There were still a few hours of daylight, and the weather was getting warmer, though it was still freezing in the evenings. Sam opened the passenger side door, wondering if Dean would ever get used to having a remote for the car.

"Nah, I don't think so. I want to know what we're getting into before we actually, you know, get into it." He said. Dean made a face.

"Hey, if we went on a hunt actually knowing all the facts and completely prepared, it just wouldn't be fun, now would it?" he asked sarcastically, making Sam smile.

"Smartass." He huffed, and Dean smirked as he started the engine. "So… Why won't you get us a room, scope out the area, and I'll hit the library?" Sam offered. "And no going to that place without me!" he added quickly. Dean glanced at him, quickly returning his eyes to the road, covering his mouth as he coughed. He nodded lightly.

"Yeah, alright. Go work your geeky charm, make all those sexy microfiche drool all over you, leave the real work to me." Dean smirked, checking to see Sam's reaction. It didn't take long. Sam punched him on the arm.

"Jackass."

"Google-lover." Dean shot back.

TBC

A/N: Reviews make the world go 'roung. Plus, they also make me write faster... Please review!