Skirmish
Chapter 3
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
A/N: Sorry for the delay; I've been distracted this week by kitty surgery. Charlotte, the evil kitty (to everyone but me), is recovering nicely and giving me lots of time to write. Thanks to everyone who has given me feedback; I really appreciate it!
oooOOOooo
The architects of this wickedness will find no safe harbor in this world. We will chase our enemies to the furthest corners of this Earth. It must be war without quarter, pursuit without rest,
victory without qualification. - Tom Delay
oooOOOooo
Aidan reached for his cell phone when it started to ring.
"Hey, man." He recognized Caleb's number on the caller ID screen.
"You didn't tell me it was snowing here when you called. I hate snow."
"Whatever. It's not like there's a blizzard on the way; it's just a dusting. Where are you?"
"I just left the hospital. I do so enjoy giving John bad news," he said with heavy sarcasm. "Hell, the only thing that kept him in check was that Dean was sleeping and some nurse walked in while I was there. So where are you two?"
"At the house. I've got Sam going through some books and I'm seeing what's here that we can use. What are you going to do?"
"See what I can find out about that old woman."
"That won't be easy. I tried earlier –"
"You don't have the same contacts I do," Caleb said confidently.
"Call me in an hour," Aidan instructed. "Be careful."
"You too. Keep an eye on Sam."
"You don't have to tell me that."
oooOOOooo
Gretchen stood just inside the back bedroom, staring at the sheet-covered workbench. Something didn't seem right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Everything looked the same as when she left it. Almost. She removed the sheet and surveyed the bench.
"Well," she said to no one.
She waved her hands over the bench, trying to get a sense of who had been in the room, but she felt nothing. Logic told her it had been the man who had been with John Winchester most of the day, but she had no proof of that. It wasn't like there was no one else whose path she had crossed who wished her harm.
With some natural abilities and some education in various disciplines, she had been for hire most of her life. She worked for anyone with the money to pay her and she didn't care which side she was on. It wasn't about good and evil or right and wrong for her. She didn't care about that; she just cared about who had the most money.
But this time she wasn't working for the highest bidder. Having recently celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday, she realized she didn't have a lot of years left and had begun to wonder if there was someone – or something – that would hold her accountable for how she lived her life. She thought she'd gotten her answer when, a few weeks ago, she received a visit from someone who didn't offer to pay her, but instead proposed protection from judgment, along with an extended life, if she was so inclined.
She had never met John Winchester, but she knew about him. She knew the kind of people he chose as friends and she knew that doing him harm could prove dangerous to her. But the offered protection was inviting and the threats of what would happen if declined made the choice easy. The other times she took instruction from someone, there seemed to be a reason for what she was doing, but this assignment just seemed pointless and cruel.
Trying not to think about that, Gretchen took an inventory of the workbench. When she was satisfied that everything was there, she went into the kitchen to make some tea. She realized she had been too bold to approach the Winchesters directly and now she had to figure out how to finish the job.
oooOOOooo
"She's for hire," Caleb said into his phone.
"Excuse me?"
"She works for whoever has the bucks and she's an expert in Hoodoo, Voodoo, witchcraft, and God knows what else."
"Grandma is bad news," Aidan said unhappily. "Any idea who she's working for now?"
"No, but I've got some people on it."
"Where are you?"
"Watching Grandma's house. Is Sam all right?"
"He finally fell asleep."
"Maybe you should do the same thing. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day."
"What about you?"
"Don't worry about me. I've got someone coming to relieve me in a little while."
"You gonna come here?"
"Yeah; I have a key."
"Like you need a key," Aidan muttered. "I'm salting the doors and windows, so make sure you fix it if you disturb it."
"Will do. See ya later."
John didn't like being out of touch with Aidan and Caleb, but he also didn't want to leave Dean's room to call either of them. He felt safer with Gretchen gone, but decided that Dean was still too vulnerable to be left alone – even for the amount of time it would take John to call home from the waiting room pay phone.
Dean moaned softly causing John to glance at him with concern. He'd been sleeping quietly for hours. A few minutes later he shifted in bed, moaning again. John reached out and laid a hand on his arm, surprised at the heat coming from his skin. He glanced at the monitor and noted his temperature had gone up. When the moaning became whimpering, John tried to comfort him as he reached for the nurse call button. It was time for the nurse's regular rounds and the door opened before he was able to press it.
"How's he doing?" she smiled.
"He's a little agitated and his temperature is up," John said.
She glanced through the chart, making notes of his current statistics.
"Infections after surgery are not uncommon," she explained.
"When he talked to me after the surgery, the doctor said he was concerned about the incision area and was put him on antibiotics as a preventative."
She nodded, seeing the notation in the chart. "He's been getting them, along with the IV."
John watched as she checked the bag, but his attention moved to Dean when he noticed the boy's eyes open.
"Hey," the father smiled.
"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked, moving into his line of sight.
"Not good."
"I'm going too look at the incision," she smiled, reaching for the hospital gown.
John couldn't see the incision because of how she held the gown, but he saw the expression on her face and it worried him. He also didn't like Dean's sharp intake of air when the nurse gently touched the area.
"I think I'll have the doctor on call take a quick look," she smiled at Dean and replaced the bandage and gown. "I'll be right back."
He looked toward his father as John moved around to the other side of the bed once the nurse was gone. "I'll take a look at that myself."
John was familiar with infected wounds, both from his time in the military and as a hunter, but he was unprepared for what he saw under his son's bandage. He had never seen an infection progress so quickly before; the area was red, seeping and appeared to be swollen.
"Dad?"
John put everything back into place.
"What do you think?" Dean asked, sounding afraid.
John was spared having to answer. The doctor walked in and introduced himself as John moved to the other side of the bed. He wasn't planning to leave his son, but was pleased that Dr. Henderson didn't even suggest it. Both the Winchesters read his expression as he examined the incision and Dean looked toward his father for reassurance. John smiled at him, patting his arm.
"I'm going to order a topical antibiotic as well as increasing the intravenous medication," the doctor explained a moment later. "And we'll monitor this closely."
After making a few notes in Dean's chart, the doctor turned his attention to him. "How do you feel?"
"Achy all over and my side really hurts. I'm cold."
"That's the fever," Dr. Henderson explained. "The medication will help with that soon. We'll get you an extra blanket, too."
After a few more questions, the doctor excused himself and promised to check on Dean later. John followed him from the room.
"Doctor –"
"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Walcott. I've never seen an infection occur that quickly; especially since he was already on antibiotics. The medication I've ordered is pretty aggressive stuff. I don't want this to get out of hand. How is your son's health generally? Is he prone to infections?"
"No." John shook his head. "In fact, he hasn't had so much as a cold since he was little. He gets pretty scraped up, like boys do, but he heals quickly."
The doctor nodded. "Well, this certainly isn't unheard of. Let me get this ordered so we can start the treatment. I'll be back to check on him in a couple of hours."
"Thank you," John said and watched the doctor walk to the nurses' station. He sighed and went back into Dean's room. His eyes were closed, but John knew he was awake.
"Dean?"
"Don't tell Sammy about this, okay?" he whispered, his eyes still closed.
"Sammy isn't here, son."
"I know, but when he comes back –"
"Don't worry about your brother. You just concentrate on getting better."
Dean rested his arm across his midsection. "I'm scared."
John couldn't remember ever hearing those words come from his older son before. He carefully sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Dean's leg. "You're going to be fine, Dean."
"I've never felt like this before."
"You've never had your appendix taken out before either," John pointed out.
Dean started to shake and John figured it was as much from fear as the fever. He pulled the blanket from the other bed and adjusted around his son. "Better?"
Dean nodded, clutching the material.
"Look at me, son."
Dean's eyes moved to his father.
"You're going to be okay. I promise."
"Have you talked to Aidan or Sammy?"
"Not for a while. It's late."
"You need to check on them."
"They're fine, Dean; probably sleeping."
"Please."
"Dean –"
His eyes bore into John's. "Please."
The father nodded, not used to seeing Dean this way. His normally confident, some would say cocky, son was obviously frightened and not just for himself.
"Okay. There's a pay phone in the waiting room. It's right down the hall."
Aidan's eyes shot open at the sound of Sam yelling. He jumped up from Dean's bed and saw Sam flailing, obviously still asleep. He grabbed Sam's wrists, trying to calm him, and glanced up when Caleb rushed in seconds later.
Sam's eyes opened and he pulled out of Aidan's grip to rub his face.
"Nightmare?" Caleb asked.
"We need to check on Dean – warn Dad."
"What about?"
"I saw that old woman standing over Dean's bed in the hospital. She was doing something to him; I don't know what –"
"Hold on, Sam," Caleb warned as he sat on the edge of the bed. "It was a dream –"
"We have to make sure!"
Aidan and Caleb exchanged a look when the telephone started to ring just seconds later. Sam scrambled out of bed and raced to the kitchen, grabbing the phone before coming to a full stop.
"Hello?"
"Sammy –"
"Is Dean all right? I had a dream about that old woman and was doing something to Dean!" Sam's words practically rolled over each other.
"Sammy, hold on. That was in your dream?"
"Yeah, is Dean all right?" Sam sounded frantic.
"Calm down. He's okay; now what about you?"
"I'm okay."
"Let me talk to Caleb or Aidan for a minute."
Sam wanted to protest, but knew better. He handed the phone to Caleb, who had followed him to the kitchen.
Caleb took the phone from Sam. "John?"
"Is he really all right?"
Caleb shot an eye to Sam. He looked worried and his dream had scared him; he was letting Aidan lead him away from the room, but Caleb knew he'd be fine.
"He's worried, John. We all are. Look, I have something to tell you."
"Go ahead."
"The woman; she's a hired gun. She's into Hoodoo, Voodoo, witchcraft – and she works for the highest bidder. I've got people trying to figure out who she's working for. Piss anyone off lately?" Caleb asked.
"Probably."
Caleb cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. So, I called Jim and he's putting out feelers, too."
"Is Dean even safe in this hospital or is she after him? Is that why he got sick in the first place?"
"I don't have those answers yet, John."
"Look, is Sammy still standing there?"
"No. Aidan took him to the living room."
"Dean's incision is infected. The doctor is treating it aggressively, but he said he's never seen an infection happen this quickly. I saw the incision and it looks bad. Really bad." John paused. "I was hoping I could get Dean out of here tomorrow – today – but not with the infection. We'll have to figure out a game plan –"
"Have you even slept, John?"
"Not really."
"Yeah, I know what your game plan is going to be."
"I'll be fine."
"Not even you can go without sleep indefinitely."
"So I'll see you in a couple of hours?"
Caleb sighed. He knew better than to argue with John. "Yeah."
"Take care of Sammy."
"Of course."
"Let me talk to him again."
Caleb took the cordless receiver to Sam.
"Dad?"
John cringed; Sam sounded so young and so afraid to his father's ears.
"Sammy, I don't know what's going on yet, but I'm going to figure it out. I need you to pay attention to what Caleb and Aidan tell you; don't argue with them, okay?"
"I want to see Dean."
"I know you do and you will in a couple of hours. Aidan and Caleb are going to bring you here, but I've already been warned I'll need to make myself scarce for a little while after the next shift change."
"But –"
"Trust me, okay?"
Sam sighed. "I do. It's just – it's Dean. He doesn't get sick and – is he really okay?"
John glanced toward his son's room across the hall. "He's going to be okay. I know it's not easy seeing him sick, but it's not permanent."
"I know. I don't ever remember him being sick before; not even a cold."
"It's been a while, that's for sure. But you have seen him with a broken ankle."
"Yeah, but that didn't make him sleep all the time."
"That was the anesthesia," John pointed out. "I want to get back to Dean, but I need to make sure you're okay before I hang up."
"I am."
Sam's voice was quiet and John knew he wasn't being entirely honest, but he was trying.
"Okay, I'll see you soon." John reluctantly hung up and returned to Dean's room. He was sleeping fitfully, but seemed to calm when he felt John's hand on his arm and heard his calming voice.
oooOOOooo
Gretchen was almost ready for another shift at the hospital. She'd been awake most of the night, worrying that she'd messed things up too badly the day before to finish her work efficiently. She hoped the influence she'd exerted over the nurse before she left resulted in Dean being sick enough to distract his father. John Winchester was more formidable than she'd anticipated and she wasn't sure if she was more afraid of him or her employer.
She'd seen the car parked outside of her house the night before and suspected the person inside was there on Winchester's behalf. She also noticed the change of watcher a few hours ago; she couldn't help but wonder how many people he had at his call.
Sipping tea, she thought back to the day she'd accepted this job. She never really had a choice; the man who came to her gave her every reason to believe that his threats could be carried out with very little effort on his part. She was drawn to his power and his promise of protection from those who might judge her was overwhelming. Turning him down was never an option. Besides, what he was asking of her was simple enough.
Some of the people she'd worked for over the years wanted real damage done, either financial or physical, and that never bothered her. She always assumed they had their reasons and as long as they had cash commensurate with what they asked her to do, it was none of her concern. But this man, this obviously powerful man, wanted nothing permanent. He told her to make Dean sick; sick enough to need hospitalization, but nothing that would have lingering effects. It had to be sudden and completely unexpected. The recovery couldn't be speedy. As he put it, for every step forward, Dean needed to take one back. Her employer gave her a timeline, but was leaving the details up to her.
With her position in the hospital, Gretchen expected to have no trouble getting access to the boy, even though she wouldn't need it. She could just as easily do what she needed to do from a safe distance, but there was never any fun in that for her. She assumed that she would be able to control the Winchesters just like she'd been able to control everyone else she ever met. A few herbs, an amulet, and she could make people do anything she wanted. She had never encountered anyone immune to her and she'd spent part of the night studying and making more powerful concoctions.
She put the empty tea cup into the sink and then slipped into the same sweater she wore the day before. She checked the pocket and found the small bag of calamus root chips that she used to control the head nurse the previous night. She moved back to the kitchen table and picked up the bag of poppy seeds that were normally used to dominate or weaken enemies and, though she didn't really expect it to work on Winchester or his friends, she would take nothing for granted. She made that mistake once with these people and she wouldn't do it again. She'd used lemon grass leaves to increase the power of the amulet she always carried and put it on a chain that she hung around her neck. The chain had been treated with a mixture to provide protection, which, she suspected, she would need.
A few other miscellaneous items were placed into the fanny pack she decided she would wear and then she left the house, well aware of the car that was still parked outside. The snow had stopped falling hours ago and, as she made her way to her own car, she could see foot prints under the front windows. Aware she was being watched, she made special note to close the blinds, though she wondered if the person outside hadn't somehow been able to see her anyway.
ooOOOooo
"Dad?"
John was dozing in the chair next to Dean's bed, but was immediately alert when he heard his son's voice.
"Hey there," he leaned forward. "How do you feel?"
"Better, I think."
John moved to the side of the bed and touched Dean's forehead. He could see on the monitor that his fever was down, but he needed more than a machine for confirmation. The doctor had been in a couple of hours before and was glad to see the incision looking better.
"What time is it?" Dean asked.
"About 7:30."
"You called home last night, right? I guess I fell asleep before you came back."
John smiled. "Yeah, everything was fine. You needed the sleep"
"Looks like you could use some, too."
"Don't worry about me," John said as the door opened.
The head nurse for the day shift introduced herself, then went about a brief examination and making notes in Dean's chart.
"One of the assistants will be in soon to get you and the room cleaned up a bit," she turned her attention to John. "That would be a good time for you to take a break."
John understood her meaning and, though he hated it, he knew he'd have to comply with her wishes. He couldn't miss Dean's slightly worried expression and it bothered him to see his son so nervous. When they were alone again, John sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Dean's leg.
"You all right?"
"I feel better."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I'm sorry, Dad."
John looked confused. "For what?"
"I – " Dean looked away.
"For what?" John asked again.
"Showing weakness."
He said it quietly, still not looking at his father and the words tore at John's heart. He'd raised his boys to be strong; showing weakness in a hunt could get them killed. But seeing his boy in a hospital bed, only hours outside of surgery and still suffering the effects of a sudden infection, feeling inadequate because he was scared, was an unintended effect of the training. As much as he loved them, sometimes John forgot his sons weren't really soldiers.
"Dean," John hesitated. What could he say to his son to make him feel better? "You haven't done anything wrong. You've been sick, that's all."
Dean closed his eyes.
"Hey," John said, squeezing his leg. "Look at me."
Dean's eyes stayed closed and John resorted to the tone he used when issuing an order. Reluctantly, Dean turned to face him.
"What weakness have you shown?" John waited a beat. "You may feel scared, but that's okay. I never said fear was a bad thing; fear will keep you sharp. But you've shown no weakness. You haven't let on how you feel inside. But if you want to talk to me about it, I'm here."
Dean shook his head.
John was forced from the room a few minutes later. He was headed down the hall to the men's room when he saw Sam and Caleb coming from the elevator.
"How's Dean?" Sam asked as he approached his father and handing him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks, Sammy. Dean is doing okay," he said and looked pointedly at Caleb, hoping he'd somehow understand what he couldn't say in front of Sam. "There's a nursing assistant in with him now. Where's Aidan?"
"He'll be here later," Caleb explained. "There were some things he wanted to pick up at that naturalist store he likes so much."
John looked at his friend. "Thank you for coming. I don't think I said that last night –"
"Yeah, well, it's Dean. So, since you've apparently been kicked out of the room for a while, why don't you go get some rest?"
"I'm fine."
"Uh huh. You look like hell. Sammy and I will take up the cause. You stay awake much longer, you're going to fall over and I'll have to carry your heavy ass out here."
John looked to Sam.
"I'll take care of Dean, Dad."
"All right; but just for a little while. Caleb, did any of your contacts come through yet?"
"Come on, if they had, that would have been the first thing out of my mouth. Now get out of here."
John put a quick hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll be back soon. Call me if anything happens or if you get any information. The nurse said to give them about an hour before going into Dean's room."
"Got it," Caleb said. He looked toward the waiting room. "Nice of them to put Dean where we can see his door from that comfy looking couch."
"Just be careful."
"You, too."
John sat behind the wheel of the Impala, sipping the coffee, for several minutes. He knew Caleb was right; he needed some rest or he would be useless to Dean. But his mind was working on the problem at hand. Who was the old woman and who was she working for? Why go after Dean? Had the boy somehow gotten on someone's bad side, or was it just to get to him? Despite the training and wanting them to join him in the hunt, John was highly protective of his sons and he would kill anything – or anyone – who hurt them, without a second thought.
He was exhausted and his emotions were threatening to overwhelm him. Sighing, John started the engine and drove toward the small house that he called home. Caleb and Sam were more than able to look after Dean, and he trusted Caleb implicitly. At the house, John took a hot shower before falling into bed.
Caleb hated not being able to use his cell phone in the hospital. It was more than just a little inconvenient to go outside and he didn't want to leave the brothers alone. He didn't have any special powers, but he didn't mind being an ass if he had to be. Sam didn't have enough experience yet and no one was going pay attention to a fifteen year old kid, anyway. He looked over at Sam to see him staring intently at the closed door to his brother's room.
"You tryin' to burn a hole in it?"
"Huh?" Sam glanced at him.
"The door. Or did you develop x-ray vision?"
"Shut up, man."
"It's been almost an hour," Caleb said. They'd seen the assistant leave the room a little while ago, only to be replaced by a doctor and then the head nurse.
"Does it bother you that I'm worried about my brother?" Sam asked irritably.
Caleb realized his attempt to lighten the situation had only made it worse. "Sorry, kid, I was just trying to get your mind off of it."
"Yeah, well, nice try."
Caleb knew a lot of people, mostly hunters, but he'd never seen anything like the relationship between Sam and Dean Winchester. The devotion they had for each other was sometimes a little scary, but it warmed even his cold heart. They had their own language and could communicate with no words at all; being around them sometimes made him feel pretty insignificant.
"Sam –"
The boy sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Let's just drop it, okay? We're both on edge."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. "Hey, Caleb?"
"Yeah?"
"Did something happen last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"My dream – it wasn't just a dream, man. If something didn't happen here, then it happened with the old woman."
"Sam –"
"Did my dad tell you anything on the phone last night? Something you didn't tell me?"
"I –"
Sam looked at him. "He did, didn't he? Something about Dean? I saw him look at you before --"
"Fine, all right," Caleb sighed. "Dean developed an infection last night, but he's doing okay now."
"I knew it!" Sam hissed. "Damn it, Caleb! I'm really tired of everyone keeping stuff from me."
"We're just doing what your dad wants, kid."
"Yeah, well, sometimes Dad can be an ass."
Caleb looked at him surprised. "Don't let him hear you say that."
Sam smiled shyly. "I don't even like him to be in the same room when I think it."
"Look, you know I don't always agree with your dad's choices, but I never doubt that he does what he thinks is best for you two. He didn't want you to worry any more than you already were about Dean. And if I know your brother, I'd bet he asked John not to tell you."
"I know he does his best, but he can't have it both ways. He can't keep things from me and get me involved with hunts – besides, this time it's about my brother." Sam looked at Caleb. "And if was me in that room, Dad wouldn't have kept anything from Dean no matter what I asked him to do."
"You're right, but you're also the younger brother. That gives you added protection by default."
Sam looked at him. "I'm not a baby anymore."
"Your dad and brother know that," Caleb said, trying to think of some way to appease his young friend. The problem was, he didn't necessarily disagree with him. He knew John had his reasons for wanting Sam protected, and for putting a majority of the weight of that burden onto Dean's shoulders, but he had no idea what those reasons were.
"Has it been an hour yet?" Sam asked a moment later.
"No, but close," Caleb stood up. "Let's go."
Dean was sitting up in bed, flipping through television channels when Sam and Caleb walked in. He was feeling better, but not back to normal by any means. The incision area was still infected, but the antibiotics he'd been given throughout the night were helping and the fever was down.
"Why aren't you in school?" he asked, looking at Sam.
"You're kidding."
"Sam –"
"Dean."
The older brother gave in first. "Where's Dad?"
"I sent him home to get some rest," Caleb said as he sat in a chair next to the bed. "How are you doing?'
"I'm okay. I didn't know you were in town."
"I couldn't let you be in a hospital without seeing my smiling face."
Dean rolled his eyes.
"I know about the infection," Sam said accusingly. "Was it your idea to keep it from me?"
"If you're going to bust my chops all day, you can just leave," Dean glared at him. He knew Sam was worried and probably scared, but he was in no mood to deal with his brother's theatrics.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry. Are you really okay?"
"Getting there, anyway." Dean tossed the remote control aside. "So what's going on? What's with all the protection stuff in here? Dad said it was just a precaution."
Caleb stared at him, but cast a glance at Sam. "That's what it is."
Dean suddenly understood. He knew something, but Sam wasn't in the loop. He tried to think of some way to get Sam out of the room for a few minutes, but nothing came to him. And since he didn't know what information Caleb had, he didn't want to convince him to talk in front of Sam.
"There's this old woman, though," Sam began.
"What old woman?"
"She's a volunteer and Aidan got a really weird feeling around her. Then we saw her make a nurse do what she wanted."
Dean looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"It's like she was able to control this nurse," Sam shrugged and told him about the previous night.
"What do you know about that?" Dean looked at Caleb.
He sighed. "I've got people looking in to who she is."
"Aidan and I were at her house."
"What?" Dean demanded. "Aidan took you there?"
"She had all kinds of Hoodoo stuff; herbs, whatever," he looked at Dean. "And a picture of you."
"A picture of me?" Dean sounded a lot younger than nineteen.
"Don't worry, man, we're going to get to the bottom of this," Caleb assured him.
"Why would she have a picture of me?"
"She was probably using it in a ritual."
"Is that why I got sick?"
Caleb remembered the conversation with John from the night before. "I don't know, Dean. Aidan is at the herb store getting some more stuff. We'll keep you safe."
Dean glanced at Sam; he didn't like the expression on his face and wanted to do something to make him feel better.
"Have you talked to any of your contacts today?" Dean asked, casually laying a hand on Sam's leg. He looked at Caleb, hoping he would understand that he wanted a few minutes alone with his brother.
"No. But maybe I could run downstairs and make a call. You two stay out of trouble."
Caleb waited for the elevator, uncertain about leaving the brothers alone. He didn't know what they were up against, or if he'd of any use against the old woman, but if something happened while he was out of the room – even if he couldn't have stopped it – he knew John would have his hide.
When they were alone, Sam turned back to his brother. Dean was pale and the younger boy could tell he was in pain.
"Do you need anything?" Sam asked quietly.
"I could use some water."
Sam poured the water; Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the cup to his lips.
"Dean?"
"I'm okay," the older boy said as he handed the empty cup back to his brother.
Sam wasn't all sure he really was, but chose not to push the matter for now. He watched as Dean seemed to sink further into the bed.
"So…" Sam began uncomfortably.
"Don't worry so much," Dean said, sounding weaker than he had only a few minutes ago.
"You don't look so good."
"Impossible."
"Dean –"
"I always look good," Dean said, a feeble smile on his face.
"Says you," Sam returned the smile.
TBC