Chapter 6

At the word HURT Dean grimaces in pain. With a hissing sound he rubbed his banded stomach and Sam could hear him sigh in frustration. Sweat dripping from his face and another fever attack made his cheeks pick up. Sam felt so bad for him. He bit his lip when Dean started to shiver again.

"Don't say Hurt, Sam. That reminds me of being hurt. Hate feeling weak," he muttered softy, sounding like a six year old. Another shudder washed over his shoulders.

"Look, Dean. If you want something for the pain, I understand. Even if it's probably not a good idea with your delirious state and all. We both know that resting is better than…" Sam's words grew quiet when Dean came of the matrass with bewildered eyes.

"Erm… Dean?"

Dean's big green unfocused eyes suddenly looked past Sam and growled angry. Bobby frowned at that.

"Watch it Sam." He straightened his back. Ready to jump right in when Dean decided to make a dive off the matrass. Sam tried to grab his brother in time to push him back down, but Dean was stronger somehow, and downright angry at something. Or someone.

"Garlic-chick! Th'Hell. Sam. Look! S-she licked me… and kissed me. Disgusting! And you ..."

Dean did his best to stay upright but swayed dangerously and Sam finally grabbed him by his shivering shoulders. It took some time to meet his eyes with concern.

"…You were gone, Sammy. You were gone!" Sam saw the weird emptiness in his brother's eyes. Like if he wasn't there, anymore. When Dean stared expectantly back at him, Sam took his time to remember what his big brother just said to him. At this point he couldn't follow him. But he did his best. He replied with a sigh. He probably knew were Dean was referring to. And he shook his head.

"Yeah. I remember. When I woke up and saw you lying onto the floor I-I…" Sam broke the eye contact to hide his anxious face. He knew he would only make it worse by showing his angst.

Dean shook his head and growled. "You didn't wake up! It distracted me."

"Dean…" Sam sighed again. His hands could feel his brother's head glowing with fever. "Take a deep breathe, man. You're raving."

Suddenly Dean surprised him with a painful head butt.

"Never do that to me, you moron!" Dean cried out angry. Shockingly Sam let go of his brother to grab his own punched head. Dean immediately fell backwards onto the matrass. His face stiffened in pain and went quiet.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam muttered dazed and blinked his eyes. "That hurt, man. You should take it easy instead of fighting me."

Bobby stood up and rushed himself to Sam who sway a little while processing his brother's handy work. One eye was already closing up.

"You 'kay, Son?" the old hunter asked. When he saw the blue eyelid already started to swell up, he grinned a little. "That will be a shiner in the morning."

"Yeah well. I don't care about that." He let his good eye wander through the lying figure on the matrass. Sam's face paled at the sight. Bobby frowned and followed his gaze.

"What the…" Bobby started but broke off in shock. His brows disappeared under the brim of his cap.

The older Winchester held his stomach with one arm and had folded his other arm over his eyes. They only could see his parted lips, desperately trying to hold back a scream. He was in total misery. It hurt to watch him suffer like that. But when Bobby soothingly touched his leg, Dean kicked his hand away with a foot. Sam instinctively shielded his head, this time.

At least this was a normal reaction from his big brother. Maybe the demon blood started to wear off.

"Get lost," he moaned in pain. His voice came out small.

"Calm down, you Idgit! Before you rip open your stitches." The old hunter really wanted to smack the kid for acting like a dump stubborn ass. But when he touched him again Dean started to fight again. Even when he was a frame of total misery.

Sam finally managed to grab a hold of his brother and pressed his back against the mattress. It took the two of them to get him ly still. Bobby helped by pushing down his flaying legs. Kicking with his feet Dean still did his best to get away from them, again.

"When you're better I smack your head against the wall knocking some sense in 'ya, you pigheaded moron," Bobby said.

Dean yelled ones in anger. He wasn't planning to stop freeing himself from them.

Until he suddenly groaned before he went slack. His eyes fluttered closed. And he let out another grunt while passing out completely. Sam felt his own heart skip a beat. His boneless body even stopped shivering and Sam let go of him in total fear.

'Balls…" Bobby swore. He rushed of the matrass and took the first aid kit from his desk. The stitches on Dean's stomach must have popped. Because the bandage around it began to soak in the crimson liquid, fast.

"He shouldn't be moving around anymore, with that wound. He already lost enough, Sam. He needs some rest. Maybe we should tie him down." Sam nodded. His eye was darkened from sadness. One eye was fully shut by now. Dean had hit him good. And he saw some stars flying around in his head. But the adrenaline kept him clear.

He helped Bobby taking care of the wound, while his gaze still landed on Dean's pale and unconscious face. "Hold on, Dean. It's okay, big brother."

xXx

Hours later Dean opened his eyes again. And when he did he immediately felt his head pounding bad. The flickering light above his head only made it worse. So he closed his eyes again. Besides a zooming sound and the annoying ringing noise in his ears, it was quiet.

He felt sick and weak. And when he wanted to open his eyes again, Dean felt that it was far more difficult than before. With some effort het stretched his numbly legs, suddenly aware of the cold air around him he started shivering.

It wasn't long before he felt his stomach pounding angry at him. Dean tried to shift himself on the thin matrass but he only made it worse. Pain shots were making an unbearable rhythm that kept him from breathing normally.

With shallow breaths he inwardly told himself to lie still.

At first he didn't know what had happened to him. His mind was empty and it felt like his head was stuffed with cotton balls. For a long moment he stared at the sealing. Watching the flickering light through the protecting star. When his pain finally subsided he slowly reached down to his stomach and felt the thick bandage on his belly. He relaxed a little at the idea that he was already patched up and didn't have to deal with the stitching part anymore. He was safe. They already had taken care of him. A small smile grew on his cracked lips and his eyes automatically started to close once again.

After another long moment he startled awake again. His head cleared up a little and tried to come up from the flat mattress to look around. Where was he again? And where was his brother?

"S'mmy?" he croaked out. Shocked at his own voice he worked his sore throat. "Thirsty," he muttered to himself and looked around. At that movement the world started to tilted.

Completely dazed he waited until everything stood still, a front of his eyes. Then he saw that he was the panic room. He was at Bobby's. His guts kind of told him that earlier, by the smell of molt and iron. He knew the smell. It was strange to think that this familiar, yet disgusting, smell made him feel like home.

But everything else was a big blur. Dean slowly peered around for any traces that could tell him anything. Everywhere he looked he saw plastic wrappings from the all known bandage rolls. Some red-stained wool lied on the wooden desk. He must have been very seriously injured by the looks of it. It was a mess. He could still smell the blood. "God…" Dean muttered in disgust. That probably was why his body felt so numb. He must have lost some serious amounts of blood.

With a heavy sight he let his head fall to his chest in exhaustion. Then he finally saw his bare skin. On the left side of the bed he saw a pile of dirty clothes scattered on the ground that Dean had worn a day ago. Now he wore only a boxer and white socks. "Well, that explains the cold." His eyes shortly fell on to the bandage on his calf. He wiggles his toes to see if some nerves were damaged. But it only hurts a little while watching his sock move. He shifted his leg a little to see more of the bandaged wound trying to remember where it came from, but then his stomach pain worsened. His watery glance shot to the right and he found another clue.

Beside him on the right side of the bed, there stood a bucket on the floor. Something felt uncomfortable. Then a sour flavor hit his nostrils. It smelled strange. He smelled vomit. The bucket beside him was wet, as if he had just been rinsed clean. Dean bit his lip thinking about to vomit again. But he felt okay. There was another long silence. He let his mind work through the motions.

Then it hit him!

He was stabbed, back at the Diner. Everything else was a blur. He knew that, for sure. But… his only concern went to his younger brother. He remembered him flying past him. He could be injured. Where was he? Probably upstairs, reading with Bobby in his study. Presumably waiting for him to wake up. So he took a deep and yet painful breath. His arms automatically grasped at his stomach wound. With a fast move he swung his legs over the matrass. But when he wanted to stand up, the movement reminded him painfully about his stab wound. Groaning in pain and misery Dean sat down. It took a while before he had everything under control again.

He let himself sit back, realizing he couldn't walk yet. So he started to shout.

"Sam? Sam!" he tried. Now he saw the closed door of the panic room, something began to come back in his memory. That demon. She had infected him. Frowning in disgust he reached for his abdomen and looked again at the door. "Sammy! Are you there? Bobby? Hey!" he shouted again. He heard a door open.

Footsteps walked down the stairs.

"Dean! Everything okay in there? Wait ... I'm coming with you." Sam looked through the small window above the closed door. Dean immediately saw Sam's blue swollen eye. In his hand he carried an icepack, but when he went to his big brother the icepack was gone.

"You look a lot better, man." Sam laughed relieved. He sat down next to Dean on the bed and padded on his knee.

Dean was clearly obsessed about his blue eye. His mouth fell open. "What happened to you?"

Sam grinned embarrassing. "That Erm... That's not important, Dean. How are you, man? You were out cold for quite a while. Hungry?" At the last word Dean shook his head. There was a comfortable silence. The hand on his leg felt soothing. It was strange to feel like he missed his younger brother like that.

"It must have been quite a trip," Dean muttered softly.

"Yup. It sure was."

Dean closed his eyes in exhaustion and hunched his shoulders foreword by the sudden weakness. One hand was still on his stomach.

"You were raving a lot of crap. And you were not exactly careful with sharing your stomach contents, for the last few hours." Dean closed his eyes to tune out Sam's tone of amusement.

"Yeah. Keep talking, Sam. Tell me all about that right now and I will give you another one," Dean said softly, glancing at his swollen eye. He just knew he did that to him. Sam laughed at that. He was just happy to see his big brother so bright and awake again. But Dean's face started to show his weakness and when his big brother yawned out loud he squeezed is knee a little.

"It's okay, Dean. You were pretty sick. Bobby has done the most for you. After you kinda knocked me down and called me a garlic-bitch. Whatever that meant." Dean fluttered his eyes at that. He remembered that one!

Ashamed Dean shifted on the matrass.

"Sorry, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "That's okay, Dean. I'm glad you're back to normal. "

Dean nodded. His gaze wandered to his hand that still rested on his bandaged stomach.

Suddenly Sam pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed with relief. "You don't have a fever. Finally." Dean growled at the eager hand of Sam and hit him away in annoyance.

"Get lost. I'm almost naked."

Sam sighed in relieve, again.

"Get me some clothes. I am feeling cold." Dean looked at his younger brother and saw his smile on his face.

"What are you smiling at, Cyclops? Want me to spell it for ya?"

Sam just laughed.

"Welcome back, Dean."

End