"Dean…?" Sam's lethargic voice calls out into the darkness of the spare bedroom, sitting himself up and noticing his hair sticking up as he runs his long fingers through it. His eyes soon adjust to the darkness, seeing that Dean's presence isn't in the room. Only his leather jacket that's been flung over the back of the chair next to the table with his laptop on top of it, shows any signs of Dean actually being in there while he was asleep.
Looking down at the digital alarm clock situated on the bedside table next to him, he can clearly see that it's almost 9:30 and frowns a little that he's only had about 3-4 hours sleep but what can he do? That nauseous feeling in his stomach's the reason why he's woken up and it's going to be like this for the next few months so he'd best get used to it. And that's not the only thing that plagues his mind; the actual fact that he's going to have to tell Dean eventually that the reason why he's puking his guts out since Fork Mountain's because he's pregnant with his child.
Hurrying into the toilet as quietly as he can so he doesn't attract Dean's attention, he really doesn't need him fussing over him at the moment, Sam promises himself right there and then, while he's puking mind you, that he's going to tell Dean about it when the case's done. For definite. Once the contains of his stomach running dry and he's now just dry-heaving, Sam wipes the rest of the substance from his lips with the back of his hand before reaching up and flushing it away. Leaning over the sink he turns the cold tap, cups the cool water into both hands and splashes it over his face, so much so that he doesn't splash it everywhere. Now looking at his reflection staring back at him Sam's able to see the dark circles under his eyes, thanks to the lack of sleep he's getting from his current situation.
Not wanting to dwell on it for now Sam takes a swig out of the cold tap to help swill the awful distaste in his mouth before spitting it back out. Heading out the bathroom, instinctively switching the light off as he leaves, Sam moves straight for the other door that leads into the hallway. The hallway light peeks in through the slit of the slightly door before he leaves through it. Passing Terry and Chris' bedroom door he notices that it's opened wide and Dean's sitting on the chair right beside the bed, watching over the sleeping Chris, who still looks worse for wear, and thanking quietly to himself that he didn't hear him puking just now.
"Hey, how's he doing Dean?" Sam asks, towering shortly behind him to have a closer look for himself.
Dean, sitting back in the chair with a mug of coffee in one hand which Sam's able to see's starting to form skin on the top and fingering the pendant round his neck with the other, doesn't move his head to face him, just keeps his eyes on Chris as he replies softly, "Still the same Sammy. The antibiotics the doctors prescribed are helping but only for so long."
Sam then hears the "If only we can do more" sigh from Dean before deciding that this is the right time to place a comforting hand on Dean's tense shoulder, "We're gonna save him Dean. Once Bobby gets here, we'll figure this out. We'll find a way to defeat this demon," he says the last word with such venom before continuing, "And, in turn, save Chris in the process."
The hand, still squeezing his shoulder gently, helps to reassure him but Dean can't help but feel powerless, as though that they should be doing so much more and yet cannot, simply because they haven't dealt with something like this before.
"I know we will…," he sighs deeply again, his shoulders move in unison, before he looks up into those beautiful, hazel eyes that belong to his little brother, "…but I just feel like we should be doing so much more than just salting all the entrances into this house, you know?"
Sam nods a little with accord, "I know Dean, I know," he then lets go of his shoulder and turns his attention back to Chris, who's nevertheless as still as the night and just as pale as the bed-sheets, "But right now, and I know you're not gonna like this but, all we can do is wait until Bobby arrives tomorrow. See if he can shed some light on all this."
Suddenly Terry enters Sam's mind and he realizes he hasn't seen him since he showed them their room a couple of hours ago, "Hey? Where's Terry?"
Just as those words left Sam's lips, the two brothers both hear the front door open and close, the sound of plastic bags rustling as well as they leave Chris for just a moment and head downstairs. Following the sounds, with a tired, male voice accompanying it, Sam and Dean find out quickly that they belong to Terry, who's just come back from shopping and visiting the office. The bags are placed carefully onto the breakfast bar, collapsing onto one of the stools and cupping his face with both hands.
He can't help but breathe out a deep, fatigued sigh, "Huh…I am officially shattered. I need to leave myself a mental note to go shopping earlier in the day. That was pure torture…" Terry pushes himself off the stool, gives out a good stretch before attending to the bags.
"Just give me a moment," he begins, placing in the milk before returning to the boys, "Then I'll whip us something to eat, okay?" Even though the brothers can see that he's obviously tired, Terry still gives them a smile that seems to even outshine the light in the kitchen overhead.
"Terry, you don't have to wait on us like we're royalty," Dean steps forward, "You're tiring yourself out. Go, be with Chris. He needs you more than we do and he shouldn't be left alone." He even shows off his trademark smirk for reassurance.
It works however, seeing as Terry drops what he's doing and displays another smile but this time more tired-looking yet honest all the same, "You're absolutely right, Dean. I am pretty shattered and," he pauses to look up at the clock that hangs on the wall between the doors that lead into the living room and the hallway, "It is time for Chris' medication."
Reaching into the medical cupboard above the counter in the corner, Terry takes out the bottle that holds Chris' tablets and pours two of them into his palm before putting the rest back. He gives the duo a smirk of his own and stops in between the boys and replies a soft, "Goodnight you two. Don't stay up too late," and then disappears up the stairs, hearing their goodnights before entering his bedroom.
"So," Dean starts, turning to face Sam as he backs away towards the breakfast bar, "Do you want me to make you a little snack before we too retire to bed?" He's already emptying out the shopping bags and finding the right places for them in the cupboards that surround them as Sam sits opposite him on one of the stools, "Well, seeing as you're offering, can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
Smirking at the fact that this is the second time that Sam hasn't asked for something out-of-the-ordinary, Dean happily obliges, "Coming right up…once I find where everything is, of course," looking everywhere for what he needs in order to make it.
Sam laughs softly, something that Dean admits he doesn't hear or see often, before he pushes himself off the stool and lends him a hand or else they'll be down there all night…