CHAPTER FOUR

Sam found Dean kneeling beside an overturned wheelchair on the dock behind Bobby's house. There was a bucket of three large fish in a bucket beside Dean. Dean heard Sam sniffle and looked up at Sam limping towards him.

"No, Sam!" He pointed up at his little brother, "Go back inside the house! You're too sick!"

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked, running his hands up and down his biceps in the cold breeze he could feel through his hoodie.

Dean shook his head, got to his feet, and suddenly pointed at a place not too far from the ledge of the bridge.

"BOBBY!" Dean called through his hands cupped around his mouth.

There was Bobby, clinging to a half-submerged boulder about thirty feet from the bridge. Sam had to take a moment to find him since Bobby's soaked dark clothes did not make him easy to spot in the rushing river. Dean scooped up a pile of thick boat rope and threw one end over the railing. Half the rope sunk into the water. Sam gripped the back of Dean's shirt, fearing his brother would fall into the ice-cold river, too.

"Go back, Sam!" Dean yelled again, "BOBBY!"

Dean shook the rope and found that the other end was suddenly heavier. He tugged with all his might and started backing up. Sam wrapped his arms around him and walked backwards, too, sliding on the slick planks as he helped give Dean more leverage. He wished more than ever that he was 220 pounds again right now. Dean saw a hand grip the rope but it was slippery. Bobby's head rose out of the water, gasping for air. Dean saw Bobby's hands sliding quickly down the rope.

Dean dropped the rope, ripped Sam's hold off of his chest, and dove into the river.

Sam tried to yell but his voice got caught in his throat so it came out barely above a whisper, "No, Dean! Come back!"

Dean plunged into the icy water. Its coldness stung at his skin like knives but he fought to the surface. Dean called out for Bobby and saw him being carried further down the river. Dean struck out for him, plowing through the current with his strong arms. Sam reeled-in the thick rope and started limping as quickly as his weakened legs would allow down the shoreline, hardly keeping up with Dean as both the current and his swimming skills propelled him down the river towards Bobby.

When Dean neared Bobby, the old man went under the foaming surface. Dean dove beneath the rushing water, gripped Bobby's shirt, and kicked off from the bottom of the river. He held onto Bobby so tightly he nearly weighed himself down but he struck at the water harder than ever, keeping them both above the foaming current. Sam took a deep breath, trying to slow-down his panicky heart, and threw the rope out to them but Sam was losing strength very fast. Dean gasped for air as they went under again.

Dean heard the rope slap the surface of the water and saw it sinking down towards him. He gripped it and gave it a huge tug. He squinted through the murky water down at Bobby to see if he was still alive. He was losing oxygen fast. Dean tugged on the rope again and felt them being pulled up to the surface. When his head broke the surface she saw that Sam had wrapped the rope around the trunk of a nearby tree and was somehow pulling them in.

The rope was so slippery and the bits sticking out were like needles to Sam's skin. Sam was gripping the scratchy rope so hard his callused palms were being cut. The added weight of Bobby didn't help. Dean considered asking him to grip the rope but he didn't want to lose him again.

Dean knew there wasn't much time before Sam's adrenalin would run-out so he wrapped Bobby's around his waist and started to pull them up the rope, ignoring the terrible pain of his hands being diced by the rope. When they finally hit the shore, Dean dragged both himself and Bobby out of the water. He laid him on the gravely shore and collapsed beside Bobby, spluttering for air. He tried to move his legs but he was exhausted. He lifted his shivering arms to check his hands: they looked like they had been used as a chew toy for a wolf.

He turned his head to look down at his legs because he couldn't lift his head. From what he could see, his legs had several bruises and cuts from where his jeans had been battered and torn. He looked over at Bobby. The old man was struggling to sit up.

"You should," Dean gasped for air, "lay down."

Bobby relented and laid back down on the wet pebbles. Sam let go of the rope like it had suddenly caught fire and stumbled down the steep bank over to Dean and Bobby. His end of the rope had blood all over it, too. His heart was beating very quickly, too quickly. Sam hoped that he was just paranoid when he noticed he was having palpitations again. His hands had been chewed to rags by the rough rope.

His head felt so light and all he could focus his mind on was checking on the two people he cared about the most. Dean was pushing himself upright, spluttering as he tried to wipe his face dry on his leather sleeve. Bobby, though still paralyzed, didn't seem to have received any injuries from falling from the bridge.

"Next time ... I offer," Dean said with a voice trembling with cold, "... take it ... you ... 'invalid'!"

The last thing Sam was aware of doing as he was closing the distance between himself and them was grinning at Dean's exclamation. His eyes rolled upward and his knees buckled beneath him when he was about fifteen feet away from Dean. Sam crashed with a flop to the pebbled shore.

"Sammy?" Dean breathed shakily, then his quivering voice erupted into a roar, "SAM!"

Though he was unconscious, Sam started convulsing as vomit rose up his throat and pooled in his mouth. The multicolored, chunky liquid was now overflowing his open mouth and dripping quickly down his hollow cheeks. Dean scrambled to his feet and slid back down to his knees at Sam's side.

"No-no-no-no," he whimpered feverishly as he lifted Sam upright and set him between his legs. "Why didn't you listen to me? No-no-no-no!"

Sam's head flopped forward, his gaped mouth still spouting everything he had eaten that day. Dean shook him, trying to wake him up before Sam would drown on dry land.

"SAM! Come on, man! WAKE-UP! SAMMY!"

Dean's body felt as heavy as lead. He dragged his feet down the hallway and pressed his hands against the wall to steady himself. But, he was overtaken by shudders as he began to sob quietly. He rested her forehead against the wall and hit the wall with his fist. Dean sank down to the wood floor, covering his face with his hands and knees, his shoulders hunched over and shaking.

He was squeezing his biceps so tightly it was like he was subconsciously punishing himself for Sam's second collapse in just a week. He didn't want to bring Sam to another hospital but he knew that he may have to. All the tension and resentment he had built inside him like an impenetrable fortress came crashing down with his tears. Dean didn't know how much more stress Sam could handle. He hasn't had any opportunity to relax and recover so that they could get back on the road and doing their jobs.

"Dean?" said Bobby quietly. "I got him to drink a bit of this Gatorade," he raised the bottle of red liquid. Dean shook his head and Bobby added, "It's better than nothin' at all. We need to keep an eye out for dehydration."

As he had become accustomed to the sound of his wheelchair, Dean did not flinch at the sound of it like he and Sam had earlier. He wiped his eyes as best as he could and gazed upward. There sat Bobby, whom had changed into dry clothes. He looked just as worried as Dean felt.

"This is my fault," Dean said quietly, gesturing to the room where Sam was sleeping.

Bobby glanced over his shoulder back at Sam's room from which he had just exited, "Dean, if anyone is to blame it should be me -"

Dean frowned, "No, no, no, no," he pointed a finger at his own chest, "I'm the one who forced him out of that hospital. I should have just let him stay. I just couldn't stand seeing him lying in that hospital bed anymore, Bobby."

"Dean, Sam needs you now. He needs you to be there when he wakes-up again," said Bobby, pushing himself closer to Dean and laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "How about you go get changed. I still need to clean Sam's hands. They look like raw hamburger. I'll do the same with you once you're done."

Sam fidgeted beneath his blankets in Bobby's guest room. His entire body was vibrating and his eyes were moving quickly underneath his closed eyelids. He was breathing like he was running a marathon. His heart was pounding. He wanted nothing more than to wake up. He was hoping that what he was seeing was just a dream ...

"You're not one to give up easily. Are you, Sam?" asked Lucifer inside Sam's mind.

"Leave me alone!" Sam whispered shakily, out loud.

"When will Dean let that grudge go … huh, Sam? Well, I'll admit it is unfair. He did break the First Seal. I'm on Team-Sammy."

Sam coughed, "You're pathetic. You can't make me turn on my brother."

"Watch your tone, Sam. You're forgetting who's in charge now."

Lucifer didn't break his glare into reflection of a painting until Dean acknowledged him.

"Who are you talking to?"

"An old friend." Lucifer replied; Sam had no control over his lips or voice.

"Oh?" Dean set the bags next to Sam and took a seat on the other side, "What's the name?"

"Which one?"

Dean looked taken aback and confused,"What are you –?"

Bobby came into view and interrupted,"Dean, where's Sam's insurance card? Please, tell me it isn't lost."

Dean turned to look at him,"It had better be in his duffle."

With one last look into Sam's apparently vacant expression, Dean scooped up the bag and walked away with Bobby after giving Sam a rough pat on the back. As he did so, a tear dripped down Sam's cheek. Lucifer's eyes snapped back onto Sam's reflection.

"Challenge me again and we'll be looking for their insurance cards. Understand?"

Sam felt his eyes dry up immediately. But, he could barely hide the elation that he did have some measure of control left.

Sam snarled,"You'll regret threatening them!"

Sam's body seized up but the shooting pain was spreading all through his body again. It was like he was trying to move his body in a mold of hardened concrete. Sam screamed inside his head as he pushed harder and harder. Lucifer loosened Sam's tense neck and swayed his shoulders as though nothing was going on inside. To everyone on the outside, that was all that they could see. Sam was alone.

Sam awoke with a start hours later. He sat bolt upright, realizing the scream he had heard had come from his own mouth. It was just a nightmare, he told himself, closing his eyes from the darkness of the room, he can't hurt you. But, as Sam started to lean himself back onto the bed, he felt a stinging pain in his hands. He opened his eyes again, welling-up over the pain. Sam raised his quivery hands up till he could see them.

When he did so, he found that they were bandaged from his wrists to the tips of his fingers. He also noticed that someone, likely Dean, had drawn a rude hand gesture on the back of his right hand. Sam could feel thread protruding and plunging through his skin ... stitches. He laid his hands down on his concaved stomach and squirmed downward till the sheet met his collarbone. He squinted around the room and realized he was laying in the guest room of Bobby's house that Bobby always had locked.

He felt a sting of annoyance that Bobby always made him and Dean sleep on either the floor or the couch. This bedroom was very bare and impersonal apart from the painting of a forest hung on the wall across from him. Just as he was beginning to wonder where they had gone, the door to his right opened, flooding light into the room.

"He's awake! Get the soup!" Dean called over his shoulder before rushing to Sam's side.

Sam raised himself a little on his elbows and allowed Dean to wrap his arms tightly around him. Sam winced at the pain Dean's enthusiasm inflicted on him. Dean grabbed the Gatorade from the dresser that was too far away for Sam to reach and opened it for him before handing it down to Sam. But, when Sam took a sip, he coughed roughly. His throat was so dry it felt painful to swallow.

"I know you're hurtin', Sam," said Dean compassionately as he knelt at Sam's bedside and gazed up at him. "But, you've got to drink. You're dehydrated."

Sam nodded and braced himself before dunking the rest of the drink down his raw throat. He looked at his older brother and knew that they were both thinking about Sam collapsing by the river.

"I blame the smoothie," Sam told Dean, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

"No, man, I think it's 'cause you pulled," Dean counted on one hand for a moment then waved that hand in defeat, "something over three-hundred pounds out of a raging river. Now, I may have only a G.H.D. But, I think that would fall under any doctor's definition of 'over-exertion'. Sam, what the hell were you thinking?"

Sam tried to clear his throat but his voice didn't improve,"Don't forget you grabbed it ... the rope. Maybe you were in ... a more dire situation ... than you're willing to admit."

"I know that what you did was selfless ... and that maybe, maybe, we wouldn't be here without your recklessness. So, maybe I owe you a 'thank-you'-"

"You're welcome."

"- but, I'm stuck between that and slapping you upside the back of your stupid head."

Bobby rolled into the room at that moment with a tray in his lap carrying a hot cup of soup on a plate. Sam wanted to ask him how he gets up and down the stairs with his wheelchair but it was too painful to keep talking unless he was spoken to. Dean set the plate with the deep cup of potato-and-fish soup on Sam's lap. Sam lifted the cup up to his lips with a trembling hand and set it back down without taking a sip.

Dean frowned at him, "Dude, have you looked in the mirror lately? Beggars can't be choosers. Don't make me hold you down and force-feed you 'cause I will! You need to eat somethin' -"

Sam took a deep breath, "I have to tell you something, Dean." Dean waited while Sam hesitated to continue, "Dean ... I ... uh ... I think Lucifer brought me back at that hospital." Sam rubbed the left side of his chest right over his heart. "Maybe I even died by that river. But, he won't let me. He won't let me go."

Dean remembered the nurse telling him that they had to restart Sam's heart,"If that were even true, you're making it sound like a bad thing -"

"I'm his 'vessel', Dean. That's why it's a 'bad' thing." Sam croaked sadly.

Sam watched the contents of his soup swirl around in the cup. It did smell very good and his appetite was rearing its hungry head again. He waited for Dean to respond. He shouldn't keep his suspicions a secret any longer. But, he didn't want to tell Dean about his nightmares.

That's all they were. Just nightmares, hallucinations, and unreal. Sam was thinking too much over something that he'll never let happen. Lucifer had to get a 'yes' from Sam. Well, no matter how many times the devil brought him back from the dead, Sam will make him wait for all of eternity if it's necessary.

Dean reached up and placed a hand on Sam's knee and shook it, "Sam, as long as I'm around, I won't let nothin' touch you. Dead or alive. I swear."

Sam looked over at him without moving his head. Their eyes met and Sam grinned down at his older brother and over at the man who had been more his father than his actual one.

Dean patted Sam's boney knee, "You sound like nails on a chalkboard. Eat that and quit whining, you skinny bitch."

Sam showed the crude drawing on the back of his bandaged hand to Dean and Dean laughed loudly. The sound was music to all their ears.