Apparitions and Ailments

Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: You guys are really overwhelming me. I'm thrilled you like this and I love the feedback. Thanks again to Kelli.

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The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering-galleries, they are clearly heard at the end and by posterity Jean Paul Richter

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The brothers were tense as the trip to Bobby's continued. Sam didn't pass out any more, but he was pale and tired. Dean didn't know why, exactly, he believed that Sam had been with their father, but something about what Sam told him rang true. He wasn't completely convinced that there weren't also physical causes for Sam's loss of consciousness and he still wanted Sam to see a specialist.

For two days, Dean didn't let Sam out of his sight. He barely slept at night for fear something would happen when he wasn't watching. He was tired, he was scared and he'd never been so happy to be anywhere as when he pulled into Bobby's salvage yard.

For his part, Sam allowed his brother's overprotection without comment. Normally not having even a moment to himself would grate on his nerves, but Sam understood Dean's reasons and didn't protest.

Hearing the low growl of the Impala engine, their friend met them on his front porch, a warm greeting for each of them. Sam loved being at Bobby's; he had more books than some libraries and he gave Sam free reign to them. He was an expert on demon possession and never hesitated to share his knowledge. He wasn't quite as gruff as John Winchester, but being with Bobby was a lot like being with his father – except for the fights.

"How are you feeling?" Bobby asked Sam as they settled in his living room. "You both look like shit, by the way."

The brothers glanced at each other, smiling lightly. That was something else they liked about Bobby; he didn't pull his punches.

"It's been a rough couple of days," Dean said.

"I'm sure it has been. So, Sam, you want to tell me exactly what's been going on?"

Sam sat back on the couch and cleared his throat. He glanced at his brother, then turned his attention back to Bobby. "Right before I pass out, I hear a loud noise. It's like a crash outside, but –"

"You didn't tell me that," Dean said quickly.

"I know; I'm sorry. I remembered it right before I passed out the last time."

"Is there anything else you haven't told me?"

"Dean –"

"Boys, let's concentrate here," Bobby interrupted.

Sam looked at him.

"A crash? That's the only warning that something is about to happen?"

"Yeah. The room goes dark around me and I wake up with Dad."

"You're with him? Physically?"

"No. I don't see him and he told me we're not in the same place. But I hear him."

"Tell me what he's said to you."

Sam spent the next several minutes telling Bobby what he could remember of his conversations with his father.

"So your daddy thinks the yellow-eyed son of a bitch is behind this," Bobby said thoughtfully. "He's taking you – somewhere – John knows you're there, and he wants you to leave."

Sam nodded. "He said it's not safe."

"So the question is," Dean suggested, "why is the yellow-eyed demon taking him?"

"Just to mess with us?" Sam asked. "Dad said that would happen."

"The question isn't just why, but how do we stop it," Bobby said. "I'm tempted to agree with John about the reason, but I think the thing we need to focus on is how to keep it from happening."

"Any ideas?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Not a one."

Dean looked at him. "You're kidding."

Bobby shrugged.

oooOOOooo

Three days later they were no closer to any answers, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Bobby barely slept, spending hours researching and talking to his contacts. Sam was right with him as far as the research and even Dean, who preferred guns to books, did what he could. He also made sure Sam ate and went to bed, but he had no control over whether or not he actually slept.

Dean joined Bobby on the porch with a beer for both of them.

"Sam with the books?"

Dean nodded.

"You okay?"

Dean shook his head.

Bobby took a long swig of the beer. "He's been staying awake; not passing out."

"Nope. But if was really with Dad, and Dad is right that the demon is just messing with us, it's only a matter of time before something else happens."

Bobby watched his young friend.

"I can't do it."

"What?"

"I can't protect him. I can't save him."

Dean leaned against the porch railing, his arms stiff, staring at the salvage yard before him.

"The demon can take him whenever it wants to and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it," Dean said as he threw the nearly full beer bottle toward a nearby tree. "It took my mother, my father and now it's going to take my brother. I can't fucking stop it!"

Bobby let him vent; he watched as the young man hit the porch railing repeatedly before lashing out at everything else that was nearby. Finally, Dean was spent. He slid to the ground, his knees up to his chest and one hand covering his face.

"You done?" Bobby asked quietly.

Dean looked at him, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Bobby handed him his own beer and sat down next to him.

"You can stop it; we just have to figure out how. Why don't you go inside, get some sleep, and we'll start fresh in the morning?

Dean went to the bedroom he and Sam were sharing and found Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.

"Sam?"

"You okay, Dean?" he asked without looking up.

"Yeah. I thought I'd turn in early. What are you doing?"

"I heard you."

"Oh." Dean sat down on his own bed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry."

"So, that promise you made –"

"Don't say it, Sam."

"If you can't save me –"

"Sammy –"

"I don't want to hurt anyone; especially you."

"You're not going to hurt me," Dean said softly. "You're not going to turn evil."

"You said it yourself, Dean. The demon can take me anytime it wants to –"

"That's not the same as turning evil."

Sam looked at him with tears in his eyes.

"I'll find a way, Sammy. I swear to you, I'll find a way."

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When Dean woke up the next morning, Sam's bed was empty. He wasn't in the kitchen or with the books in the living room. Dean walked outside, but found only Bobby, who was working on a car.

"Have you seen Sam?"

"No. I figured he was still in bed."

Dean looked around. "The Impala is still here."

"Maybe he just took a walk to think."

"Maybe."

"You feelin' any better than you were last night?"

"Not a whole lot. Sam heard me."

"Oh."

"I'm gonna grab some coffee, then go look for him."

"You want some help?"

"Not yet, but thanks."

Two hours later, Sam was still missing. He wasn't answering his phone and between the two of them, Dean and Bobby searched the entire salvage yard. Back at the house, Dean was pacing in the kitchen.

"He wouldn't just take off and not answer his phone," Dean insisted. "Not again. And the last time it happened, he was possessed."

"If he's still wearing that charm, he ain't possessed."

Dean rubbed his face. "Damnit, Bobby, where is he? Where's my brother?"

Why are you here again, Sammy? I thought you understood –

"We've been with Bobby, but he hasn't found anything."

He's getting sloppy, then.

Sam was again surrounded in darkness. "Dad, about that fight we had –"

Don't worry about that now, Sam. We fight. It's what we do.

"I don't want it to be what we do. I miss you, Dad."

I miss you, too, Son.

"Dean's scared. He doesn't think he's going to be able to save me –"

He'll figure it out. And you're pretty resourceful, too.

"Why is the yellow-eyed demon doing this? Why is it brining me here?"

I told you, Sammy, it's going to do whatever it can to keep you and Dean off balance.

"That's all this is?"

Don't take that lightly, Sammy. It's testing you; like in Oregon.

"Oregon? You know about that?"

Yeah. The demon staged that to see if you were immune or not.

"Was I supposed to be?" Sam asked, fearfully.

I'm sorry; I don't know.

"Dad –"

You have to go now, Sammy.

"Dad, there's still so much about this I don't understand."

I know and I'm sorry. All I can tell you for sure is that the yellow-eyed demon is behind this and I think it's a test or something it's doing to keep you off balance. You need to go and you have to make sure Bobby finds a way to keep this from happening again. Don't let it take you again, Sammy.

Sam's eyes opened, but he didn't know where he was. He sat up slowly and looked around. He wasn't in the salvage yard and nothing looked familiar. He checked his pockets and was surprised to find his wallet and his cell phone. Standing up, he opened the phone. There were ten missed calls and just as many voice mails; all from Dean. Without bothering to listen to them, he dialed his brother's number.

"Sam, where the hell are you?" Dean demanded when he answered the phone. "You've been gone for three hours!"

"I don't know. I –"

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so. Dean, I was with Dad again."

"Okay, look, I'm gonna put Bobby on the phone so you can describe to him where you are. Hopefully he'll recognize it and we'll come to get you."

There weren't a lot of landmarks, but Sam was able to tell Bobby enough about his surroundings for him to figure out where he was. Dean drove impatiently as Bobby gave him directions to the spot, about five miles away. When they found Sam, he was sitting on a large rock with one arm around his stomach.

"Sam!" Dean ran toward his brother after he parked the car. He fell to his knees in front of Sam. "You said you weren't hurt –"

"I'm not; I don't feel well."

"Come on, let's get you back to Bobby's." Dean helped him stand and led him to the car.

"Dean, Dad knew about Oregon."

"What? The demon virus?"

"He said it was a test to see if I was immune, but he doesn't know if the demon wanted me to be, or not. He also said this could be a test."

Dean opened the back door for Sam and helped him settle inside. The young man tried to stay awake, but fell asleep shortly after the car was moving. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror nervously as he drove back to the salvage yard.

"This has to stop, Bobby."

"I know."

"We have to find something to keep that demon bastard from taking him."

"I got an idea last night. I was going to talk to you about it when you woke up, but we were a little busy –"

"Let's get Sammy back and make sure he's okay; then you can tell us all about it."

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"I don't want a tattoo."

Dean looked at his brother. "Do you want to keep taking trips on the demon express?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He woke up long enough to get into the house earlier, but slept for two hours and now, after a large mug of strong coffee, he was still a little spacey.

"I think I've been trying too hard," Bobby began, hoping to avert a brotherly argument. "I've been trying to find something specific to this situation and, frankly, I'm not sure this has ever happened before. I still want to find out where Sam is going, but in the meantime, we need to keep him from going there."

"With a tattoo?" Sam complained.

"Charms can get lost, " Bobby pointed out.

"I haven't lost the one you gave me –"

"As a tattoo, a symbol is potentially more powerful. I found something that should work; it's a symbol that dates back to the Viking era and it supposed to protect against evil forces."

"But a tattoo?"

"Chicks dig tattoos, man," Dean said.

Sam ignored his brother's playful grin.

Bobby glanced at one and then the other. "I think I'll leave you two to talk about this."

Once they were alone in the kitchen, Dean looked at his brother. "Do you feel any better?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I'm okay," Sam said with little conviction. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Dad said he thinks this is a test; something the yellow-eyed demon is doing just to mess with us."

Dean nodded, staring intently into a beer.

"You want me to get the tattoo?"

"You know, it's bad enough when you pass out on me, but wandering off –"

"I don't remember what happened," Sam smiled apologetically.

"I don't want this to keep happening, Sam. It's not like the tattoo has to go in the center of your forehead. Bobby told me it probably doesn't matter where it is."

Sam sighed and nodded. He remembered Dean's words the previous night about not being able to protect him and he thought the least he could do was agree to the only form of protection Bobby had been able to come up with.

"I'll do it."

Dean looked into his eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

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Neither Bobby nor Dean had the expertise to handle the tattooing. Bobby knew of a man about three hours away who could not only do it, but would use blessed materials for extra protection. Bobby called him and set up a meeting for the next morning. Dean didn't want to let Sam out of his sight and planned to stay awake all night to make sure he didn't leave the house again.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Bobby fired up the barbeque out back and proceeded to grill three thick steaks while the brothers performed some preventative maintenance on the Impala. He also made baked potatoes and even demonstrated his baking skills by putting together an apple pie for dessert.

"You did all this?" Dean asked, amazed, when he and Sam walked into the house later.

"Do you see anyone else here?"

"It smells great."

Bobby knew it had been a long time since the boys had a home cooked meal and he was glad to have the chance to do something for them that didn't involve demons. Sam tried his best, but Bobby noticed he barely ate anything. The older man suspected that Sam wasn't feeling anywhere near as well as he wanted them to believe he did, but he wondered if he should just let Dean handle it. With as close an eye as the older brother was keeping on him, there was no way Dean could miss a mostly uneaten meal.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked as he joined his brother in the living room later. Sam was stretched out on the couch with a dusty book in his lap.

"What?" he tried to sound innocent.

"You hardly ate anything. You're still pale –"

"I'm fine."

"Don't do that," Dean said angrily. "Don't tell me you're fine when I can see that you aren't."

Sam sighed and closed the book, "It's my stomach; it's still bothering me a little."

"That's all?"

"I don't want you to worry."

"You don't want me to worry? Well, it's a little late for that! I don't do anything but worry about you and that won't change until we kill that fucking yellow eyed bastard!" Dean turned away from him and tried to regain his composure.

"Dean, I know that. And that's why I didn't tell you I wasn't feeling well. You have enough on your mind."

"I don't want you hiding things from me," Dean said, not turning around.

"I'm sorry."

Dean hung his head. He was so tired of hearing Sam apologize for things; he was sorry for as many things out of his control as in and it broke Dean's heart.

"Don't apologize," Dean said quietly. "You don't have anything to be sorry for in this whole crazy mess. I just need you to be honest with me and not to keep things from me."

"Dean –"

He wasn't ready to look at his brother yet, but something in Sam's tone made Dean turn around. Sam was reaching for him as the book fell to the floor.

"I heard a crash."

"No," Dean whispered, rushing to his brother's side. "Sam!"

A moment later, Sam's limp form fell into Dean's arms.

TBC