Once again- many many thanks to the people who reviewed. You truly do bring joy to my life. Thanks you again. And for Brokenwind and Julie- thanks for the reviews and see, you didn't have to wait too long!

And for all those reading- I hope you are enjoying the story and thanks for sticking with me...

Chapter 8: Bad Decisions

Sam sat in the construction site, back against the foundation wall, fighting not to pass out. Anxiety caused his pulse to race, bringing blackness into his vision. Desperately, he tried to take deep breaths, attempting to calm himself.

What he had done was stupid, and not at all well thought out. The lack of planning and foresight involved with his decision was phenomenal. Sam partially blamed his incredibly bad decision on the lack of oxygen getting to his brain due to poor circulation. He looked around- this was probably THE stupidest thing he had ever done.

He had been desperate to finish the hunt the way he had started it- alone. It was embarrassing and a huge blow to his self-confidence to know that he couldn't complete a hunt on his own. But given his current state, Sam knew that there was no way Dean would let him finish this hunt solo. So, when Dean had called saying that he would be four hours late, Sam took the opportunity, possibly the only opportunity that he would have, to finish the Feeder.

Thus was the first of a series of bad decisions that led him to his current seat in the foundation. He had a taxi drop him off at the site; therefore, there was evidence that he was here. He had come without a gun. He only had a limited amount of time before he needed to be back before Dean found out about this. And as the final straw, he was so nervous and angry with his own stupidity, that he was about to pass out. The only saving grace would be that if he passed out, the Feeder wouldn't be able to feed off of him.

Sam considered the Feeder…Victito Despero. What emotion did it feed off of? Sam thought back to his hallucination trying to determine what emotion he had been feeling the most. Desperation? Despero sounded that it could be that, and Sam had felt desperate when the demon was in his brother, but desperation hadn't been the predominant feeling of the night. Sam pondered more and then it hit him- Despair. THAT had been what the Feeder was feeding off of. THAT had been what he was filled with the other night.

A Despair Feeder… "Well that sucks."

Now that he had the Feeder figured out, he turned back to his situation, and his watch. It had been three and a half hours since Dean's phone call, which meant that Dean would be returning to the motel any minute now. Sam knew that if Dean returned and found Sam inexplicably gone, it would send his brother into a panic. There was no reason to do that to Dean. Dreading the aftermath, Sam decided to call his brother to inform him of where he was…Dean was going to kill him- and probably the Feeder as well. Sam wanted neither of those things to happen, but he didn't want to hurt Dean more, so Sam searched his pocket for his phone.

Not finding it in his jacket, Sam searched his pants…again he found nothing. Frozen in fear, he tried to think of where he had put the phone, but his thick brain didn't seem to want to help. Sam rubbed his hands over his face as he realized that he hadn't seen his cell since Dean had called him and therefore, he had probably left the cell back at the motel room…along with his gun. The night just kept getting worse.

Sam stopped berating himself momentarily to think about his gun. The last time he had seen the gun, he had been in this foundation. Dean hadn't mentioned the gun, nor had the police…was it possible that the gun was still here somewhere? With that thought, Sam stood up slowly and began searching the foundation area for his gun.

He walked on his broken ankle as he looked, dreading what the ankle would look like tomorrow- if there was a tomorrow. He currently felt no pain there as he had given himself a shot of a long-lasting local anesthetic before he had left. The doctors had sent Sam home with the local rather than pain medication because due to his blood pressure, they hadn't wanted him sedated.

Not finding the gun in the foundation area, Sam hobbled his way out of the foundation and began to check along the route where he had ran. Sure enough, after 10 seconds of walking, Sam found his gun lying in the grass. He picked the gun up and checked the rounds- it was still fully loaded. At least some luck was with him.

Before reveling in the security of the gun, Sam considered that the weapon might be a hallucination. There was one way to test for that. Feeders and their hallucinations were non-violent…physically speaking. With that thought in mind, Sam hobbled back down into the foundation, put his left hand on the ground and slammed the butt of the gun onto his hand.

"Ahh! Son of a…"

Shaking out his hand, Sam accepted that the gun was real and not a hallucination.

Gun now at the ready, Sam leaned back against the wall of the foundation. Now that he had the gun, his nerves had calmed a little and the blackness had receded from his vision. He was ready now. As soon as the first hallucination came, he would put a bullet through it. If all went as planned, the hallucination would remain, the Feeder would become visible, Sam would shoot it again, and then the Feeder would explode into little fiery pieces.

Sam stretched his left leg out as he waited for the Feeder to attack. His ankle was beginning to throb, which meant either the local had worn off, the gun search had done more damage- or both. Sam shrugged, there was nothing he could do about that now. There was nothing he could do about Dean now either. Now the only thing he could do was kill the Feeder.

It wasn't long before Sam heard something move in the foundation. Pushing himself to his feet, Sam turned in the direction of the noise gun drawn. The area of the foundation that the sound had come from was dark and he strained to see into it.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Dean appeared. This time Sam wasted no time talking to the image. Immediately he fired and the Dean imitation went down.

Frantically, Sam searched the area for the Feeder. He had shot the hallucination, so the Feeder's form should have appeared. On the floor, the hallucination laid gasping in pain and clutching his shoulder.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam's eyes were brought to the fake Dean who was still lying on the floor, trying to examine the wound in his left shoulder. The fake Dean then looked to the ceiling in pain, "Shit!"

Sam turned his eyes away from the illusion, once again looking for the Feeder. But it was nowhere to be found. Sam decided to try again.

Carefully he walked up to the pain-filled mirage, aiming at Dean's head. The fake Dean looked up at him, "Damn it Sam! It's me!"

Sam shook his head, determined not to let the thing into his mind. He spoke to it through clenched teeth, "Not this time. You're not my brother."

Suddenly, the fake Dean looked down and aimed a hard kick at Sam's broken ankle. Pain shot up Sam's leg and he crumpled to the floor, dropping the gun.

Sam laid on his side, curled up, clutching his ankle in pain. The hallucination had just kicked him…Sam paused, all pain forgotten at the horrifying thought. The hallucination had been physically violent, which meant…Sam turned to the figure that was struggling to sit up, "Dean?"

Dean gave him an unamused look. Blood covered Dean's shoulder and Dean grimaced as he kept his arm pinned tightly to his chest. Despair filled Sam as he realized what he had done. Tears filled his eyes and a dull ache settled in his chest. He had shot his brother…for real this time. Breathing became difficult and Sam found himself gasping for air.

"Does it surprise you that you shot him?"

Sam looked around frantically for the voice. It had been Jess' voice, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"It's not like you haven't shot him before."

She wasn't talking about the hallucination. She was talking about the incident in the asylum, but how did Jess know about that?

"It was only a matter of time before he died anyway. It might as well have been at your hand."

Sam sat up, whipping his head around in all directions, looking for the source of the voice.

"Your mother, your father, me…we all died because of you. Without you, your mother, father, and brother would have been a happy family. Just like they were in all of those pictures, the ones taken before you were born. And without you, I would still be alive too. What did I do to deserve to be killed? I had nothing to do with the demon. I was just a girl who went to college and got involved with the wrong guy."

Emotional pain filled Sam's body and he gasped again, falling back onto the ground. His vision once again became dark, the sound of his pulse echoing in his head as he struggled for each breath. He turned his head to the side and saw his brother, lying dead where he had shot him in the chest. Dean laid there lifelessly, yet Sam could hear his voice as though it was right next to him.

"Sam! Damn it Sammy! Look at me!"

Sam answered the corpse quietly, "I am looking at you."

Suddenly, Sam felt two hands in either side of his face as his head was roughly turned away from Dean's corpse and towards…Dean's face?

"Sam! Look at me." Dean sounded distraught and the blood from his hands was now smeared on Sam's face. Desperately Sam tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Dean helped him out, "It's a hallucination."

Sam shook his head, eyes filled with tears and despair, "No. I thought it was, but I was wrong, Dean. I shot you."

Dean grumbled, sighed, and then punched Sam in the face. Startled and dazed, Sam shook his head trying to clear it. Dean pulled him into a sitting position and pushed a gun into his hand. "Sam! Get it together man. I'm real. That…" he pointed in the general direction at which Sam had been staring, "is a hallucination. Now shoot it."

Trusting his brother and accepting his own inability to reason, Sam shot the dead Dean.

Both brothers covered their ears as a loud screeching sound was heard. The screeching sound seemed to originate from Sam and both brothers watched as a large, clear leech began to appear, attached to Sam's head, neck, and shoulder. It's round mouth was stuck onto Sam beginning above Sam's right ear and down to just above Sam's right elbow. The body of the leech was about three feet long, cone shaped and segmented. It flopped around in the air as its mouth fed off its host's emotions.

Without waiting to see more, Dean grabbed the gun out of his brother's hand and shot the leech. Pieces of leech flew from the bullet hole and burned up on the floor. However, almost as quickly as the hole appeared, it seemed to close again. The bullet had not been effective in killing the leech, but it was enough to cause the leech to screech again and release Sam.

The rotund creature fell onto the ground and quickly wormed its way back into the shadows. Not knowing what to make of the ineffectiveness of the gun, Dean sat and watched as the creature retreated. Suddenly, his shoulder became wracked with pain as Sam fell sideways into it. Dean gasped at the pain, but didn't push Sam off. Instead, he maneuvered his brother further towards the right on his chest, where Sam's head would be less painful.

Both brothers sat gasping and Dean held Sam close with his right arm as Sam leaned sideways against his chest. Dean could feel the tremors spasm through his brother's body as Sam gasped for air. Dean knew that they needed to move- get away from the leech and over to a hospital, but he made no attempt to go. Instead he bent his leg up to his chest to allow his brother something to lean against. Sam gradually leaned back, still gasping and shaking against his Dean's chest.

Dean's own breathing was beginning to calm and he found himself staring above his brother's head at his own body. He was lying in a large pool of blood, eyes closed, and a bullet hole in his chest. Dean wondered if that hallucination was a continuation of the former one, or if it was entirely new.

Leaving the hallucination, Dean looked down at his brother. Sam had tears in his eyes and a very dazed look on his face. Realizing that he had to get his brother out of there, Dean leaned his cheek on his brother's hair and gave Sam one last squeeze with his good arm before pulling them both to their feet. Once they were standing, he muttered annoyed in Sam's direction. "I can't believe you shot me."

Sam swayed and sighed, leaning heavily on his brother. "I'm sorry Dean. I…" Sam broke off in a distressed gasp. Dean watched his brother's eyes flutter as Sam fought against passing out. Dean felt slightly dizzy himself, most likely due to blood loss, but there was no time for that now. Slowly and carefully, Dean helped his brother out of the foundation and back to the Impala.

Dean helped Sam into the passenger's seat and was about to shut the door when Sam spoke, "I should drive."

Dean stared at him, not hiding his disbelief and annoyance, "Shut up Sam," and slammed the door closed.

Getting into the driver's seat, Dean pulled out his road atlas. He had to find a hospital that was in another town, but a town that was close enough that he could drive there without passing out. Looking through the Atlas, Dean quickly found a direct route to a medical center in Cedartown, GA. The new hospital would be 20 miles away, but they could be admitted under new names, and without guardianship issues…the cover story would be much easier. Dean would say Sam went hunting in the mountains, got lost, was exposed to the elements, Dean found him, there was a hunting accident, and he was shot. Happy with that cover, Dean explained the story to Sam.

Sam was still dazed, but amazingly still conscious. He nodded, appearing out of it as Dean recited their cover story. Somewhat satisfied that Sam had heard him, Dean threw the car into drive and drove off towards the hospital.

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