A/N: Introducing chapter 7! It's a bit longer than usual, so I guess as my beta says; there's more to love. By the way, I love reviews *hint hint*.
Once again I would like to thank my marvellous beta, The Tribble Master, for helping me fix this chapter up. My grammar is atrocious at time.

Upwards and onwards!

Chapter 7

By the next day, Dean was complaining that he was bored. He whined and whined until Sam was reduced to covering his ears with a pillow.

Unfortunately that still didn't block out the sound of Dean's voice.

"Sam!"

"Dean, you're not getting out!" Sam replied from his seat on a chair beside Dean's bed, book in hand.

"Sam, I'm fine, and there's no point in me just waiting here like a sitting duck for those witches."

"As opposed to being a sitting duck in a motel room?"

"At least a motel has TV!"

"Dean, no."

But eventually, Sam had to give in. Dean could be both very persuasive and very good at blackmailing.

"You ever show that picture to anyone and I'll kill you," Sam muttered to Dean as he helped him get out of the hospital bed that afternoon.

"Yeah, whatever Samantha." Anything else Dean intended to say was cut of by a low moan as his feet hit the floor.

"Dean?"

"Mmm… I'm good, just hurts a bit." He struggled to hold back another groan as pain shot through his side. Sam grabbed his arm painfully tight, supporting him.

"Dean, you're not ready to leave. You need to stay here."

"Sam, look around. See any hot nurses?"

"The receptionist is kind of cute…"

"Sam, do you see the receptionist coming in and checking on me anytime? No."

"Whatever man-" Sam started, but was cut off as Doctor Terrence walked in.

"Dean, you're- you should not be out of bed!" Doctor Terrence hurried over to Sam and Dean, a frown fixed on his face, mingled with a look of disbelief.

"You were stabbed two days ago and you're leaving?!"

"Look, Doc, I know that I should be resting and all that, but we're kind of in the middle of a hunt-"

"I'm in the middle of a hunt," Sam interrupted, ignoring the glare directed his way. "And I would feel better if Dean was with me while I worked instead of being here."

"He's perfectly safe here-" Doctor Terrence started to say, but was cut off by Dean.

"Come on, Doc, you know what's out there. Nowhere is safe." The Doctor gazed at them for a short while being sighing in defeat.

"Ok, you can go, but I want you back here in 2 days for another check up. And no hunting for you," he added sternly to Dean. Dean saluted.

"Yes sir."

Once they reached the Impala, Dean let out a small sigh of happiness.

"Hey baby. Oh, I missed you, you beauty," he crooned, rubbing his hand affectionately on her hood. Sam rolled his eyes before stuffing their bags into the backseat. He headed over to the passenger side where Dean stood.

"Come on."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you get into the car."

"I'm not a kid, Sam. I can do it myself."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine. Go ahead."

Dean opened the door with a minimum amount of pain, but as soon as he began bending to get in, a flash of pain made him lean heavily against the Impala, eyes closed. A low groan emerged between his lips as he struggled to breathe through the intense pain currently circulating his body. Through the haze, he could feel a comforting hand on his shoulder, and a voice talking to him reassuringly. He blinked back the pain and struggled to understand the voice.

"… just breathe, Dean. In and out. The pain will go away soon, I promise. You just stay with me, okay?" Sam said quietly, hand never leaving Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy… I'm good. It's alright." Dean finally managed to say after the pain had subsided. Sam glared at Dean.

"I told you to let me help you!"

"Not helping, Sam…"

"Yeah well…" Sam muttered under his breath as he helped Dean into the impala. After a few minutes, Dean was finally seated in the passenger seat, though his eyes were squeezed tight and his hands were white from holding on to the side of his seat as he tried to focus on anything but the pain he felt. Sam slid into the driver's side, eyes gazing worriedly at Dean.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"Peachy," Dean replied, eyes still closed.

Sam started the engine and the two headed for a nearby motel: Leisure Lots.

After getting a room with two single beds, Sam somehow managed to get Dean and their bags inside the room. It wasn't too bad; pretty spacious, and it didn't have any weird features. Dean was currently sitting on his bed, carefully balancing his weight so his wound would be as painless as possible. Sam sat opposite him on the other bed.

"Still wishing you came here?"

"Yes," Dean said unconvincingly. Sam sighed before rising up.

"Ok, I already told Bobby where we are, and he should be here soon. I think he found something out."

"Good," Dean said as he lay back on the bed, TV remote clutched in his hand. He flicked on the channel and stared at the television, but his mind wasn't following whatever was playing. Sam noticed his blank eyes, and sighed again. He'd never had the bad luck of dealing with witches. Dad had, many times, but Sam was still too young to hunt then. He did however remember his father coming home injured and tired many times, and on a few occasions with Dean as well. Looking at his brother now, Sam resolved that he wouldn't let the witches touch a hair on Dean's head. They wouldn't harm him anymore.

Bit late for that though, he thought reflectively, still staring at Dean. Dean twitched uncomfortably before turning to glare at Sam.

"Sam, I'm fine! Will you stop staring at me?"

Sam shook his head, startled out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

Dean just groaned in frustration before slumping back into his pillows. His eyes closed briefly. Sam was just about to speak when there was a knock at the door. A gruff voice called out:

"Sam? Dean? You boys in there?"

"Bobby," Sam said in relief, and Dean smiled briefly. No matter how old they got, both Sam and Dean found relief in hunting with Bobby, who was like a second father to them.

Maybe more of a father than dad was to us, Sam thought, but then reprimanded himself. No matter how much Sam hadn't gotten along with his father, he knew they were lucky that John had immersed himself in hunting rather than alcohol. He also knew, and now cherished, the fact that his father had loved both him and Dean.

"Sam," Bobby greeted as he stepped through the door Sam had just opened. He turned his attention to Dean.

"Dean. You okay, son?" Dean smiled wearily.

" 'M good, Bobby. Bit tired."

"Had anymore dreams?"

Dean sighed. "Not really. I didn't sleep much last night, though."

"Well, hopefully we'll find these witches and stop them before anything else happens. And I think I know where to start."

Both Sam and Dean perked up immediately, staring impatiently at Bobby. He chuckled slightly at their change in demeanour.

"Well, I found out that four new women moved here last week. In fact, two days before you were taken, Dean. All four live on the same street, and all four do not exist."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, having lost track after Bobby's last statement.

"They don't exist. Their names are false, their identities, their previous addresses, everything is fake."

"Wait, so how come no-ones done anything about it? You know, confronted them?" Dean asked, confused.

"Witches, Dean." Bobby said, as if stating the obvious.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget. Witches." The last word was a mumble, but Sam still caught it. He looked at Dean carefully and saw the carefully concealed fear in his eyes. Sparing a sympathetic gaze at Dean, Sam turned his attention back to Bobby.

"So, did you talk to them?"

"No. That's where you come in, Sam."

"What? Why me?"

"People skills," Bobby said as he handed Sam a bag. 'Go get changed into this. Gas company uniform; just tell them that there might be a gas problem and they'll let you in."

"Sam has enough gas problems as it is," Dean added, smirking. Sam poked his tongue out at Dean.

"I don't see why I have to go, though," Sam protested as he was pushed into the bathroom.

"Sam, for one you need some fresh air, and for another, you're young and good with people. I go snooping around and people get suspicious."

"It's the beard, Bobby. Makes you look dangerous." Bobby just glared warningly at Dean, who replied with an innocent smile. Sam grinned at the comment before reluctantly going into the bathroom to change. Maybe he could get Dean or Bobby to change their mind with his puppy-dog eyes. But Dean and Bobby? That was more than Sam could handle.

A few minutes later he was in the Impala, driving to the first house, which belonged to one Fiona Kirrans. However once he arrived there, nobody was at home. Sam was tempted to pick the lock and go inside, but just in case she was a witch… Well, Sam didn't want to be turned into a pig or something. He instead decided to go check out the next house on the list, but there was no one there either. Feeling confused and slightly worried, Sam checked the other 2 houses, but it was the same situation. By now he had a gut feeling that something was wrong, and the drive back to the motel took even shorter than is usually would have. He practically ran from the Impala to the room, and threw open the door. The sight that greeted him was not one he would forget anytime soon.

Bobby lay sprawled out on the floor unconscious. However, the thing that made Sam's heart stop was the sight of his brother. Dean was lying on the ground, choking and coughing up blood.

"Oh god, Dean!" Sam yelled, running to his older brother. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders, trying to help him up, but another bout of coughing forced Dean's body back to the ground. His pain-filled green eyes stared directly at Sam, and he started to mouth something when more blood came choking out of his mouth. It spread across his lips and trickled down his chin onto the floor. Sam, now desperate, began to search the room. He knew that witches used hex bags to mark their victims, and this had to be the witches. Sam began rummaging through everything; drawers, bags, under the bed, but there was nothing there. He turned back to face Dean, who's coughing was sounding more wet as more blood rose up his throat.

"S…mmy… mattress…" Dean choked out, blood overflowing his lips. Sam stared at him, at a complete loss. Mattress? What about the mattress? He gazed at the innocent looking lump on the bed Dean had been lying on, and then it hit him. The hex bag was in the mattress. Sam grabbed his knife out of his pocket and tore ferociously at the mattress. It split easily under his knife, revealing a small dark brown cloth bad tied with string. Sam grabbed his lighter and the bag, and set alight the small bag. It began to burn, and a putrid smell began to emerge. Sam hurried to the bathroom, where he dropped the bag into the sink. There it lay, smouldering, the contents burned but still recognisable.

Sam suddenly realised that he could no longer hear Dean choking, and feared the worse. He rushed back into the main room to see Dean struggling to rise from the ground, his face twisted in agony. Sam walked over to Dean and gently knelt beside him, placing a helping hand around his shoulders. Dean didn't swat away the help as he usually would. He accepted it, which showed Sam just how bad Dean felt. He helped Dean onto his own bed, seeing as Dean's mattress was ripped up, and looked at his brother. Dean was obviously in pain, and there was blood on his clothes, but he didn't look to be in any serious trouble. Sam sighed with relief before wrapping his arms around Dean. To his credit, Dean didn't immediately push Sam away, but instead leant into the hug, relishing in the feeling of being safe for once. The two stayed like that for a few moments before Dean began to struggle. Sam reluctantly released him.

"Bobby," Dean croaked out, the lifted a hand to his throat in pain. Sam turned to where Bobby still lay; in the confusion, he had completely forgotten about Bobby. Said person was beginning to awaken, a look of confusion in his eyes.

"What the…" Bobby mumbled, rubbing a hand over his head. He felt like his head had just been bashed; an intense pain throbbed throughout, causing him to wince. His eyes flickered around until he saw Sam and Dean seated on a bed. Dean was covered in blood and he looked in pain, and Sam looked shaken and a little guilty.

"Bobby. Are you alright?" Sam asked, getting up off the bed to help Bobby stand up. Bobby accepted the helping hand as he rose to his feet, head still spinning.

"Yeah… but my head feels like it's about to explode," he muttered. "What happened?"

"Witches." Sam said grimly, eyes flickering momentarily to Dean. "I went to the addresses you gave me, but there was no one at any of the homes, so I came back here. You were unconscious, and Dean was"- here Sam swallowed- "coughing up blood."

"Hex bag?"

"Burnt it. It's still in the sink."

"Where was it?"

"The mattress," a hoarse voice interjected. Both men turned to look at Dean, who was still seated on the bed. He gazed up at them, eyes large. "In Ohio… the hex bag was in the mattress too."

A pause filled the room as all three men exchanged worried glances. Finally, Sam spoke up.

"They know where we are. They know we're after them."

"They want us to look for them." Dean said quietly. Bobby nodded in agreement.

"Yes. But that just means we have to hunt them down quicker. First though, we need to get you cleaned up." This last comment was directed at Dean, who was still covered in blood not only from choking, but also from the reopened stab wound. Sam went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit while Bobby sat down on the mutilated bed, head still aching.

"You alright Bobby?" Dean asked hoarsely, already seated opposite him. Bobby chuckled.

"You nearly died and you're asking me how I'm doing?"

"Hey, you're getting older, Bobby. Not as strong as you once more." Bobby swiped gently at Dean.

"You watch your mouth boy. You should respect your elders!" Dean's smile lessened.

"You know I respect you, Bobby." He said, completely serious, green eyes staring into Bobby's own. Bobby nodded.

"I know you do, Dean." Dean smiled lopsidedly in response as Sam came back into the room, medical kit in hand.

"Dean, take off your shirt."

"Geez, bit eager Sammy!"

"Bite me."

"Very eager!"

"Dean."

"… I might need some help," Dean finally said, blushing slightly. Sam set the medical kit on the bed and helped Dean manoeuvre his shirt off with as little movement as possible. Bobby hissed as he saw the stab wound currently in Dean's side.

"It's nothing," Dean said dismissively. Bobby merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? I-" his reply was cut off by a yelp as Sam pressed antiseptic to the wound.

"Geez Sam! Son of a- ow!"

"Sorry Dean, but it has to be cleaned."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you," Dean mumbled, wincing in pain.

Eventually Sam was finished.

"Okay, so now what?" he asked.

"There's not much we can do. I suggest we have an early night and be prepared to be up in the morning."

"Bobby, it's 7 o'clock!"

"Hey, this old man is tired after his witch encounter."

"Besides Dean, you need rest." Dean turned to Sam, eyes wide.

"You traitor! You're siding with him?" Bobby and Sam just grinned while Dean pouted.

"So not fair."

"Quit your whining Dean and go to sleep. I'm off; staying at a different motel."

"Be careful!" Sam called out as Bobby left. He turned back to Dean, eyebrow raised.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Well? Are you going to willingly go to bed or do I have to force you?"

After much grumbling, Dean was finally tucked into Sam's bed while Sam claimed the sofa. Dean was currently peering at Sam over the thick duvet covering him.

"Sam."

"What?" Sam mumbled from the sofa.

"I'm not tired."

"Dean, just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"But I'm not tired."

"Dean."

"Sam."

Sam nearly snapped at Dean, but then he realised the problem. Dean was afraid to go to sleep, afraid of what he might see in his dreams. Sam instead put on his best comforting gaze and looked at Dean.

"I'm right here Dean. Nothing's going to happen."

Dean just looked at Sam.

"Don't know what you're yabbering on about," he mumbled, turning slightly under the covers. However Sam noticed that only moments later Dean's breathing was slow and even, a clear sign that he had fallen asleep under the watchful gaze of his younger brother.

Sam smiled and shifted slightly under his own blanket, making sure he was facing the bed. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was Dean's own face, turned towards him, looking peaceful and content.

Unfortunately, the feeling would not last long.