Chapter 7

Sorry this took so long; I had major writers block and I couldn't figure out what to right for the middle part of this chapter. Also track was getting in the way with KVACs and now States. But anyways the story is back and I would never think of quitting a story btw. Hope you like this and thanks for all the reviews and comments btw! :) Enjoy!

Dean sighed heavily. He had to take care of this crap before someone saw it. Sam was, now, shivering violently in his arms and he knew his brother really needed medical attention…fast.

"God, Sam what have I done?" He shook his head, brushing his brother's hair out of his eyes.

All of a sudden, the supply closet door swung open, revealing a small nurse with a bunch of new towels in her arms. When she looked up and saw the scene in front of her, she screamed, dropping the linen on the ground.

"Oh my god!"

Dean ignored her shouts and yelled back at her. "Go get help...NOW!"

Without hesitation, the nurse nodded shakily and stumbled out of the room. Dean wiped a hand over his face. So much for keepin' this a secret. He shifted Sam's body higher up onto his lap when he heard the door open again. Here we go. The next few minutes were a total blur for Dean. He only recalled having his brother pried from his vice-like grip and rushed back to the E.R. and his dad put on another gurney, wheeled out of sight. How he got back in the waiting room with a police officer standing in front of him, he did not know.

"Sir? Sir!"

Dean looked up lazily. "Huh?"

"I asked if you remember what happened."

Good thing Dean was a pro at lying. He definitely couldn't come out and say, 'A demon was possessing my brother's doctor so we had no choice but to kill the sucker,' it'd probably land him in jail; or worse the loony-bin.

"My brother's doctor, he was trying to kill him. He, ah, was giving him drugs that were making him sick, and he knew that." Lie number one.

"Did the doctor actually tell you this?" Asked the officer suspiciously.

"Yeah, he did." Lie two. "Then he tried to kill me and my dad in the supply closet, but my brother managed to get up and saved up both; he shot the guy in the head." The whole story wasn't a complete lie.

The officer nodded with a frown, but decided to leave the guy alone. He looked exhausted and he knew exactly what it was like to have a loved one in the hospital.

"Alright, I guess that's all for now. I hope your brother's okay."

Dean looked up in surprise. Who knew police officers could be so sympathetic. "Thanks."

Immediately after, he snapped his gaze back to the E.R doors, desperately waiting for someone to come out and give him some news- some good news- on Sam and his father. After what seemed like days, the double doors swung open, revealing a doctor in sea-green scrubs.

"Family of Sam and John Bravo?"

Instantly, Dean was in front on the man, eager for immediate answers.

"How's my brother? What about my dad? Are they okay?"

"My name is Dr. Hudson, taking over for Dr. Mackey. Your dad's just fine. He sustained a minor concussion, but he'll be able to go home within the next few hours. We just have to do a couple of head scans to make sure no surprise swelling occurs."

Dean nodded, but the lump in his throat did not go away. The doctor failed to mention his brother. Why hasn't he mentioned Sam?

"W-what about my brother?"

The doctor's face turned dark. That was definitely not a good sign.

"Your brother's condition is a bit more crucial, Dean. The energy he used to get to you and your father wiped him out completely. His blood pressure and heart rate were dangerously elevated and add that to battling a major infection…it caused Sam to develop a serious lung infection."

Nononono! Sam was supposed to be getting better not worse. What the hell!

"We have him on mixture of fever reducers, antibiotics and normal cough meds."

"I-Is he going-" Dean cleared his throat. "He's gonna be okay right?"

The doctor sighed. "To tell you the truth, Dean, he's very sick right now and his condition is touch and go. At this point, we are allowing no visitors, strictly only for Sam's health. His immune system is extremely weak and we can't have him catching any outside viruses. But, if you'd like to see your father, he's in room 227."

Dean swallowed tensely and nodded as watched the doctor leave. When the coast was clear, his knees gave out and he suck into a nearby chair. Tears began dripping out of his, already puffy, eyes; he couldn't hold them in any longer. All this because of a fricken game? Seriously. How could this world get any more fucked up? He wiped a weary hand down his damp face; he felt cold, empty. Sam was sick because of him. He just made Sam's life worse than it already was.

~~~SPN~~~

Dean slowly walked to his dad's room, hands shoved forcefully in his pockets. God, this has been the worse week of his life. When he reached the doorway, he found his dad propped up on a bunch of pillows and fully engrossed in the hunting magazine he was reading. The normal hunting magazine.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped in quietly. "Dad?"

John looked up and as soon as he saw his son, he placed the magazine face down on his lap.

"Dean," he said gruffly, "Are you okay? Where's the demon? Did you kill it?"

Dean inwardly huffed. Trust his dad to only care about the fricken demons and not Sammy. Well, he did ask if he was okay, so he guessed that was a plus.

"No, actually, Sam killed it; he fucking risked his own life to save us."

John's faced paled, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean he risked his life? What happened while I was out?"

"Well, I don't know how Sam knew we were in trouble, but I remember the demon was strangling me, and in the next moment, the bastard was dead and Sam was holding a gun. After that, he passed out and…dammit," Dean ran a hand through his hair shakily as he sat down next to his dad's bed.

"What is it?" Urged John worriedly.

"He's getting sicker dad. Doc said he developed a fricken lung infection. God!"

John cursed under his breath and wiped a hand across his salt and pepper beard.

"What are we gonna do dad?"

"Well, I'm gonna get out of this garb, we're gonna grab Sam and then we are gonna get the hell outta this place."

Dean frowned as he stood up in rage. "What! Sam is sick, possibly dying now, 'cause he saved both our asses and once again, all you can think about is leaving; leaving the one place that can keep him alive? Is running your answer to everything?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Dean. It's for everyone's good. This place asks too many questions."

"So what! So what if they do; we can just lie like we always do, what's so different about now?"

"When the hell did you start turning into your brother? First it was me and him at each other's throat, now you?"

"Well, maybe I came to my senses and realized that all you care about is the fucking demon and all the other demons in this fucked up world! Maybe I should just drag Sam's unconscious body down here so you can yell at him some more for no god damn reason! After all, this is his fault, right? Everything is Sam's goddamn fault, right?" Dean finished sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air. "You know what? I can't deal with this shit right now. I need some space." Dean stalked out of the room before John could say another word. He couldn't believe that guy! Now he knew why Sam always got in fights with him, why Sam had abruptly left them without warning and he didn't blame the kid. Their father was so freakin' unbelievable!

~~~SPN~~~

He opened his grit-filled eyes slowly, pain coursing through his entire body; more specifically his chest. He coughed harshly, sending flames through his throat and into his lungs. God, he felt worse than before! Sweat was practically pouring into buckets from his fever and even though he felt as hot as hell, his whole body was shivering violently. It hurt so much to move his body, he felt like he'd just went a round with Mike Tyson. But first things first: where the hell was he? Trying hard not to move as much, he searched the quiet, dimly lit room and a light bulb clicked. Hospital. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to recall the events that brought him here. Cinnamon Challenge. Dean. Couldn't breathe. Wait, rewind. Dean.

An image flashed through his mind; a very unpleasant image at the most. He saw his brother on the floor; his bright green eyes- which were now dull- were open and unseeing. He was dead. Then it all came back to him. The game, the feeling of drowning, dad and Dean fighting, and…no not the vision. It had to be fake right? Maybe the fever was just playing with his head, right? No, that would never happen. Dean needed his help and fast…or was he too late? He breathed heavily as he threw the constricting covers off his legs, swinging them over the bed. He immediately felt weak and dizzy, but that didn't matter. Dean mattered more. He took a shaky breath and placed his feet on the ground. Slowly he stood up, waiting for the wave of nausea and lightheadedness to pass. After a couple moments, he felt a bit better and he ripped the I.V. needle from his arm. He vaguely remembered doing something similar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He brushed it away for now and headed for the door. As soon as he reached the entrance, though, he was already out of breath. He couldn't fail his brother; Dean's life depended on him. Just hopefully he could reach the older Winchester without ending his own.

~~~SPN~~~

Dean walked through the bustling hallways, trying to cool down his steaming anger. Part of him was also hoping he'd find his brother's room. He didn't give a damn what that doctor said, he needed to actually put eyes on Sam to know for sure that he was at least still breathing. But…he didn't get his hopes up; the place was huge and he had no idea where to start looking. He huffed in annoyance as he turned another corner. That's when he saw him…Sam. What the hell? Maybe he was hallucinating or something, but wasn't Sammy supposed to be in bed? Sam was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. Worst of all, his face looked as pale as a sheet and sweat was soaking through his t-shirt.

"Sam!" He looked around to see if there was anyone there, but there was no one. He quickly sprinted to his brother and slid to his knees. He cupped Sam's too warm face in his hands and lightly tapped it with his fingers.

"Sammy, what the hell ya doin' kid?"

Sam responded with a weak groan before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Easy, kiddo, easy. Let's get you back to bed, alright? That is, if we can find your room." He hoisted his 6'4 brother into his grip, wrapping one limp arm around his shoulder and weaving his own arm around Sam's waist. Instantly, the kid's knees almost gave out and Dean nearly fell back to the floor with him. But Dean quickly held his ground and practically dragged his brother back down the hall, looking in every single room to see if it was empty.

It was the last room; the last fricken room in the wing. What idiot would put Sammy in the middle of nowhere? Well, maybe not the middle of nowhere, the nurse's station was not too far down the hall. He turned into the semi-dark room and slowly made his way to the bed. Carefully placing the gentle giant on the mattress, he maneuvered Sam's body until he was comfortably on the bed and underneath comforting blankets. Dean watched as Sam seemed to relax into the pillows, and all the weight seemed to lift off his chest. He checked to make sure no one would be around for a while, and then went back to his brother's side, dragging a chair over to Sam's head.

"You are one crazy son of a bitch, you know that right?" He didn't expect an answer. Either Sam had exhausted himself and fallen back asleep or he just passed out completely. "First saving dad and me, now trying to escape? Geez, Sammy you're gonna burn yourself out."

Dean smiled sadly while brushing back the sweaty bangs on his brother's damp forehead and then placed his palm on his cheek. "Don't do this to me, kiddo. Please don't do this to me….Geez, what am I gonna do with you, man?" He sat back in his seat and wiped his face; he knew he wasn't supposed to be in here, but he couldn't just leave his brother on the grimy floor no matter how sterilized it was. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Suddenly a small moan floated out from the bed. His eyes snapped open and he immediately stood up, leaning over his little brother's form.

"Sammy?" He said, gripping Sam's sweaty hand tightly. "Come on, man, you gotta open those big brown eyes for me, okay?"

At first, Dean didn't think his brother heard him, but then, very slowly, Sam's eyelids blinked open and revealed glassy looking brown eyes.

"Sam?" Dean said in a wavering voice.

"Hmmm, D'n?" Sam answered in a raspy voice.

"Oh, thank god," Dean breathed still never letting go of Sam's hand. With his right hand, he cupped his brother's face gently, stroking it softly with his thumb.

"Wha' happ'n'd to no chick-flick m'm'nt's, De?"

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes and ruffling his brother's floppy hair before sitting back down in the chair. Sammy was okay now, he was alive. Maybe, just maybe things would finally go back to normal…and they could figure out what that friggin' demon wanted. Probably wanted them dead like all demons did, but the cards could change; there might be something else. Maybe it was just for the heck of it, but hey, when did that ever happen?

Apparently this is NOT gonna be the last chapter, and it may be the next one, but who knows. Hope you liked this chapter, if you didn't then well I can't really blame ya, I kinda don't like it either. Oh well, the next chapter will be better: lots of brotherly love and protection and why that demon wanted to kill the Winchesters (well there's always a reason, but what's the reason? Hmmmm…) :) Don't forget to review.