"We need to figure out what's wrong," Dean muttered as he shifted slightly, settling Sara more comfortably against his chest. As promised, he hadn't left her side once in the nearly three hours she'd been unconscious.

His brother had joined the vigil bringing his laptop into the living room, he'd turned Sara's rug into research central. Between Sam's trips to and from the printer in Sara's office, the younger Winchester had done little more than mutter at his computer and keep the coffee pot filled.

Dean had tried making sense of the pages spread out at his feet, but there seemed to be no working order so far as he could tell. Twice now he'd questioned Sam on his findings but after having the younger man threaten to do him bodily harm, Dean figured he'd back off a bit.

That, however, was before Sara lapsed into a coma for lack of a better word. Well, not a coma according to Sam, Dean muttered to himself.

"She's not in a coma, Dean. How many times do I have to tell you?" Sam snapped in response to Dean's grumbling. The younger man moved to where Dean sat on the couch, Sara curled up on his lap. As he knelt down, he placed one hand on Sara's head. "Sara," he called.

It took a few moments of Sam's prodding, but at last Sara's lids lifted just a bit and her dull stare focused on Sam. "Sam?" she croaked.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm just checking in. How are you feeling?"

Sara's eyes slipped closed once more and she frowned. "I'm fine, where are the kids?"

Sam had answered this question nearly a dozen times now and yet each time his heart clenched for the worry that was evident in Sara's whispered words. "They're with Dean, remember?"

Sara smiled softly believing the lie, the tension that gripped her body eased. Her trust in Dean absolute. With a mumbled, "good," the woman turned slightly and was back to sleep nearly instantly.

"She's still really out of it," Dean said trying to hold back the panic he felt. The first flush of relief that Dean had felt earlier when he'd awoken Sara had quickly turned to outright fear as she'd freaked out over the news that her mother-in-law had her kids. Dean and Sam had quickly learned they were better off, telling the mother of three that Dean was with the children. For some reason, in Sara's fever ridden mind, she never realized that Dean was the cushion she was so comfortably curled up on.

Sam shook his head in reply. "Actually, I think she's getting better. It was easier to wake her up, plus her fever's starting to break."

Now that Sam had pointed it out, Dean realized his brother was right. Sara's forehead did feel cooler, and the chills that had plagued her earlier had ceased. "I hope so, Sam. Cause I'm at a loss as to what's wrong with her."

Sam moved away and stared down at the papers scattered around on the floor. "Well, we know what it's not. I mean that's gotta help right?"

888

Two hours later had Dean contemplating his baby brother's words. Dean disagreed with Sam, but was unable to convince his brother. In Dean's mind the only explanation for Sara's condition was the only factor of her life that had changed in the past couple months, namely Greg. His little brother, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to listen to reasoning. His sole argument was the fact that Greg had passed every test they'd thrown at him, not to mention the fact that he'd entered the house regardless of the measures in place to repel the supernatural.

"Don't start, Dean. We don't know that he has anything to do with what's happening to her," Sam argued, his voice raising in anger.

"Start? Hell, I didn't say a word." Dean pressed his lips together willing himself to hold onto his patience despite Sam's thick headedness.

"Yeah, well I know what you're thinking," Sam snapped, his own ability to find an answer causing him to vent his frustration.

So much for peace, Dean thought as he snarled, "Listen, you depend on your books and I trust my gut, and in this case my instincts are screaming Greg's name. The bastard did this to her, and if you'd only allow me to go track the son of a bitch down then I could prove it."

Sam grabbed their father's book off the floor and began thumbing through it at random. "Poltergeist, demon, ghost, vampire, you name it and we tested Greg for it. So explain to me how he's involved."

Dean rose to the bait, despite the fact they'd already discussed this issue to death, "I'll tell you how. Just because we haven't come across what he is doesn't prove his innocence. It only proves our ignorance."

"Oh, so now it's my ignorance that's draggin' us down. Is that it? It's my fault I can't find a reason for that mark."

"No, Sam, that's not what I said. I just don't get why you can't trust me for once and forgo the need to think it to death," Dean's voice overlapped his brother, both near shouting to get their points across.

"Guys?"

"You're gut, that's what I'm supposed to trust? Come on, Dean. You hate this guy and you're looking for a reason, any reason to stake the man."

"When I said we should stake him I just mean that we needed to find a way to deal with him, Sam. I wasn't planning on actually driving a stake through his heart. Though now that you mention it-"

"BOYS," Sara shouted at last, interrupting the tirade of angry words that were being tossed back and forth like a malicious baseball.

Dean looked down to see Sara staring at him, the paleness of her skin giving way to a slight flush born of anger. She was blinking rapidly as if to clear away the fog that had held her in its grip. Even as he watched her eyes, they seemed to clear, their bright depths sparkling with natural good humor.

"Let me up," she said, struggling to sit up on her own.

"Carefully," Dean whispered as he helped her to sit. Hands hovering by her side, he held himself ready to catch her if she failed. It was only once he was certain she held steady that he risked standing up.

"I'm fine," Sara said as she waved a hand in reassurance.

Sam stepped forward and replied, "You're not fine, Sara, far from it in fact."

The exaggerated frown that marred Sara's features would have been funny in nearly any other circumstance. Here, now, however, it only served to remind Dean of just how much he'd missed her. The entire week had been filled with moments like this one, little facet's of Sara's personality that had Dean's heart clenching in agony. Sara was funny, sweet, smart and most of all self-reliant. She was everything and anything that Dean had ever wanted in a woman.

"Stop looking at me like I'm a butterfly pinned to a board," the woman of his dreams snapped.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at her small show of temper. Sara's rage against the machine of life was another reminder of why he'd fallen so hard for her. Anyone that could spit in the eye of fate and wrestle her destiny into some semblance of order was well appreciated by the older hunter. "I'm not staring, I'm concerned," Dean answered as he inwardly chuckled at her dramatic eye-roll. The relief he felt over Sara's apparent recovery was tempered only by the knowledge that whatever was wrong, hadn't been fixed. It had simply withdrawn for the moment.

"How much do you remember, Sara?" Sam questioned his inner-geek showing as he leaned forward in eagerness.

"Judy was here. I had packed up the kids." It was obvious by the way that Sara lightly massaged her forehead she was still suffering some symptoms.

Dean reached toward the end table and palmed the bottle of aspirin that sat there. Deftly he opened the child-proof cap and tipped out two white pills. "Here, this'll help. Can't hurt the fever also."

"She's still warm," Sam said his large hand darting forward to press against Sara's forehead.

"I'm not two, Sam. Stop playing doctor."

The sight of Sara slapping Sam's hand away brought back Dean's smile. He had to admit he loved it when Sara acted the part of a big sis to Sam. It did the younger man good to see that his doe eyes didn't work on everyone.

Before Dean could open his mouth, okay well his mouth was already open, but before he could utter a word, Sara turned toward him and snapped.

"Don't say it."

Dean shrugged indicating his innocence and said, "What, I wasn't going to say anything."

With a roll of her eyes, Sara indicated she didn't believe a word Dean was saying. "Yeah, right. So, I don't understand? What happened?"

"No sooner was Judy out of the house when you collapsed," Sam said his worried gaze searching Sara's pale face for any clue as to what had happened.

Sara frowned and said, "I passed out?"

Dean was the one to answer, "No, actually you weren't completely unconscious, at least not until your fever spiked and you couldn't seem to stay awake."

Sara pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes with a sigh. At last she asked, "How long was I out this time?"

"This time?" Dean questioned, his voice low and monotone. To anyone that knew the older hunter well the tone was a sure sign of impending danger.

Sara shrugged and looked away refusing to be scolded by the man that had walked out on her. It was Sam's softly spoken, "Sara" that had her reluctantly answering.

"A couple times in the last few weeks I've woken up feeling like I've lost time."

"And, what? It never occurred to you to call us. To let us know you were in danger?"

Sara stood on shaky legs and stepped away from the couch and Dean. "Call you? You left us, Dean. What'd you think? We'd be pen pals, exchange Christmas cards and bake each other fruit cake. I wasn't feeling well, I figured it was a cold or something, I surely wasn't going to chase after you whining about my sudden lack of energy."

As always, when backed against a wall, Dean lashed out. "Nice to know you didn't mean it when you said that Sam and I would always be a part of your life."

The moment the words left his mouth, Dean wished he could have them back. He hadn't meant it. Sara was loyal to a fault and he had no right to pretend otherwise. "Sara, I'm sorry, I-"

Sara held up one hand and interrupted, "Don't it's fine." With those words she turned toward Sam, practically knocking Dean over with her cold shoulder. He should have known she wouldn't hear his apology. He'd hurt her in so many ways with that single stupid sentence.

"Sam, I don't understand. Why do you think it's something supernatural? Why not an illness?"

Dean shook his head imperceptibly at his brother hoping to deter Sam from divulging too much information. Brian's death would not help matters now and would only serve to weaken Sara even further.

"There's a mark, on the back of your neck. It's, uh, something we've seen in the past."

Sara's hand automatically went toward her neck, feeling for the bruise that Sam and Dean had seen earlier. "A mark, but I mean I can't feel anything there. And where did you see it before?"

Sam moved forward, and lifted Sara's thick honey brown hair off the nape of her neck. "It's right..."

"Sam," Dean barked as Sam's voice trailed off.

"The mark's gone, Dean."

Not bothering with niceties, Dean strode over to Sara and wrapped one hand around her slim throat, holding her immobile. As he tilted her head forward, he pushed back her hair revealing her unblemished neck.

"Dean, back off," Sara said as she struggled in the hunter's strong grip.

"Stand still," he snapped determined to find some trace of the bruise he and Sam had so clearly seen early.

"Ow," Dean shouted as Sara's foot connected with his shin. Out of instinct he released her and she promptly backed away, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck.

"What the hell, Sara?" Dean growled holding his aching leg.

"What the hell, Dean? What are you doing, there's no mark."

Sam stepped forward and said, "But there was, Sara. We saw it this morning. I don't know what's happened to make it fade but..."

Dean was sick of this. Killing is what he needed to be doing right now, not wasting time. "Sam, load up let's go get Greg."

Determined to ignore his brother's sigh, Dean headed toward the back bedroom already working through plans to track Greg down.

"Greg? Wait a minute, what's Greg got to do with this?" Sara asked Sam as the younger hunter shifted uncomfortably.

"Dean thinks he's responsible for-"

Sara threw up her hands and marched after the elder Winchester. Dean could hear her coming behind him and he quickly turned to meet her head on. "I don't think. I know. All this trouble started when he came into your life. That's not a coincidence that's a fact."

"All this," here Sara jabbed her finger into Dean's chest, "crap, started when you left. So now you're trying to tell me that the first man that's shown any interest in me, at all, is a freak?"

Dean rocked back on his heels, his hand going up to rub the spot she'd poked. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. If I'd know you were going to get suckered by the first guy looking to climb into your pants-"

Sara's ringing slap knocked every bit of anger out of Dean's system. Even as he held a hand up to his stinging cheek he couldn't help the waves of guilt that hit him harder than Sara ever could. He didn't even try to apologize, he knew there was nothing he could say that would make things right. Instead, he stepped back and turned his back on her. "It's Greg, and you can ignore that all you want, but I know. Something's not right with him." With those words, Dean left the room, intent on getting some air.

The hours of worry over Sara combined with the stress of being home once more was too much. He needed a break, something other than Sara and their messed up relationship to focus on.

888

Sara watched Dean turn and leave, her heart breaking in two as he walked out of her house. Immediately, her eyes sought out Sam, reassuring herself that the elder Winchester wouldn't leave his brother, no matter how badly she'd screwed up. And boy had she screwed up. It was just her feelings of inadequacy that had begun when Dean had left, had only grown as she'd struggled these past few months to deal with the loss. Then, when you factor in the fact that Greg had been the only man to even get close to her, it left her feeling even more drained.

Unsure of what came next, Sara turned toward Sam to ask his advice. After all, if there were anyone capable of helping her mend what she'd broken, it was Sam.

The horrified expression on his face, only increased Sara's upset. She'd let her emotions get away from her and that was never a good thing. Dean, in his own warped and weird way was trying to help, and typical Dean, helping meant killing whatever was closest. In this case that meant Greg.

"I don't know what's going on, Sam. But, I can tell you it's not Greg. I'm not quite as dumb as your brother thinks I am. I've checked him out in a million different ways." Sara blinked back the tears that threatened as she met Sam's sympathetic gaze. "I would never allow anyone or anything to harm my kids, you, know that, Sam."

Sam nodded and said, "Sara, you don't have to tell me. I've seen you in action. Dean's just, well he's Dean. And for better or worse, in our world if something seems to be wrong, it is."

Sara blew out a breath and sighed, despite what she believed, the way she felt right now made her think that Sam and Dean were right. There was something wrong. "I need coffee," she said as she led the way to the kitchen. She still felt sluggish and feverish and though she was loathe to admit it, she knew it was only a matter of time before Sam figured it out. The younger Winchester was nothing if not observant.

"Dean, didn't mean it," Sam blurted as they settled to the kitchen table with their coffee. "I mean he knows you'd never..." Sam cleared his throat, his face reddening slightly as Sara's eyes met his.

"I'd never..." Sara couldn't help but tease at the highly uncomfortable look on the younger man's face.

Sam's face flushed a bit more as he rolled his eyes. "You really have picked up every one of my brother's bad habits."

Sara felt the smile slip from her face as she nodded. "Yeah, I guess I have."

The weight of Sam's gaze made Sara look up. The younger man stared at her, his face full of compassion. As always part of Sara wanted to push Sam away, to preserve her pride and keep a stiff upper lip. However, when faced with his sympathetic gaze, she felt her own will crumble. As the tears began to make their way down her face, Sara felt Sam's strong arms wrap around her.

888

"You planning on hiding out here all night?" Sam questioned as he slipped inside the garage, Jack by his side.

"How is she?" was Dean's muffled reply. The older man had the hood of the Impala raised and was bent over the big engine.

"Tired, weak, feverish and guilty," Sam offered as he hiked himself up and into the front seat of Sara's Jeep, the off-road vehicle occupied the bay next to the big black Chevy.

This time Dean's head snapped up and his bright green gaze met Sam's. "Guilty? Why the hell's she feeling guilty? I'm the one that lost it."

Sam didn't bother to make excuses for Dean, the same way he'd refused to offer them to Sara while the older woman sobbed into his shoulder. Both Sara and Dean had said some harsh words, however, despite the accusations that had been thrown like punches, each one guaranteed to draw blood, the fight went deeper than either would admit.

How deep it went was something Sam hadn't realized until today. Though, looking back, he supposed he should have guessed, at least in Dean's case. Ignoring his brother's question, Sam said, "She thinks you don't want her anymore, Dean."

Dean looked down, his hands now resting lightly on his hips, and said, "That's dumb."

Sam shrugged, settled back in his seat, hands resting lightly on the wheel and countered, "How would you feel if you were a woman five years older than the man you were crazy about, then toss in three kids, a mortgage, and an insane mother-in-law. Now take all that and factor in an extra ten pounds clinging to your ass-"

Even in the dim light of the garage, Sam could see the fire in his brother's eyes, as the other man snapped, "There's not an inch of Sara's body that isn't sexy as hell.

Sam held back his grin and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just telling you what the lady said."

"How the hell can she think that?" Dean muttered as he turned back toward the car. Jack, perhaps sensing the older man's upset moved to his side and settled himself at Dean's feet.

"Probably because the only man she's cared about since her husband was brutally murdered, suddenly up and left her."

Dean leaned forward resting his hands on the frame of the black car. "It had nothing to do with Sara. It was never a question of whether or not she was good enough for me."

Sam nodded his agreement and pinned his gaze to his brother. Here it was, the point where he ran the risk of getting clocked by the elder Winchester. "I know it had nothing to do with her. It was always about you. You left her cause who would want a 'closing in on thirty, adrenaline junkie, with no mortgage, no money, and a record, a man that no longer exists since he was technically buried in St. Louis.'"

"Exactly," Dean breathed his voice so low Sam almost missed the word.

Sam had to admit he hadn't expected to reach this point so quickly. He thought for sure his brother would continue to push the 'she's in danger' angle. Denial for Dean was a deeply ingrained survival instinct and not something he set aside lightly.

"Shit, Dean," Sam replied at his brother's easy acceptance. It physically hurt, Sam to know his brother felt beneath Sara, especially, when he knew for a fact that the widow would be the first to disagree.

Sam raked a hand back through his hair, as he carefully contemplated his next argument. At last, he chose honesty. "I understand where you're coming from, Dean."

That earned Sam a frown. No one would ever suggest to Dean that his baby brother wasn't as close to perfect as it was possible to be, especially not Sam himself. "Who said you weren't good enough?"

Sam grimaced and wrenched his gaze from his brother's sharp stare. "Me, just about every minute I spent with Jess?"

Determined to help his brother, Sam embraced the pain that made his breath hitch and continued, "God, Dean, She was...incredible. You know? Smart, strong, funny and beautiful, inside and out. She never once made me feel inadequate, but, I always knew I wasn't good enough for her."

Sam passed a hand across his eyes and continued, "She...she was class in every sense of the word. She came from old money, was the fourth in a long line of Moore's to attend Stanford. Her childhood consisted of piano recitals and private schools. I mean," Sam gave a wry chuckle, "they had a summer house in Martha's Vineyard."

Dean whistled appreciatively and grinned. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Closest thing we had to a summer home was Bobby's garage."

Sam choked back a laugh, glad for his brother's attempt at humor. "Exactly, and here I come with my second hand clothes, my collection of odd scars, and no past. She knew, Dean, oh, not about the supernatural, but she knew I was running far and fast from something. And see the thing is, despite what I kept from her, she loved me anyway."

Dean nodded and leaned against the car. "I hear what you're saying, kid, I do and I get it. But it's not the same. By staying I'm asking Sara to take what I am, not some alternate reality me."

Sam leaned forward slightly and said, "You're right. But see the thing is, Dean, you're forgetting just how much you and Sara have in common."

Dean snorted and rubbed his neck in nervousness. "Come on, Sam, Sara and I are worlds apart."

Desperate to knock some sense into his brother, Sam held up one finger. "One, you've both lost people you love to the supernatural. Two," Sam said as he raised another digit, "you both were left to hold together your families. Three, you're both highly protective, you love nothing more than to mother hen people."

"I don't 'mother hen' people," Dean growled, obviously taking offense at the idea that he was anything less than an absolute killer.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued, "Whatever you say, Terminator. Anyway you're also two of the most mistrustful people I know."

As Sam had hoped, Dean laughed at the last shared trait. "Yeah, ain't that the truth. I can't imagine what she pulled on poor Greg before deciding he was okay."

With a laugh, Sam said, "Well, let's put it this way. Greg's gotta be wondering why Sara's beer always tastes so watered down."

This time, Sam joined in as Dean's laughter rang through the garage. It took nearly ten minutes for Sam to finally catch his breath and even then the laughter threatened to start all over again every time he caught Dean's eye.

At last, Dean gasped, "So what you're trying to say is we belong together?"

Sam sobered as he watched Jack, disturbed by all the noise, wander out of the garage into the late afternoon air. "No, what I'm saying is, if you love her despite her faults and she can see past yours, then hold on tight to each other. Because love like that doesn't happen often."

Dean's face clouded over with guilt at Sam's words. "Sam, I know it must be-"

His brother's words were suddenly drowned out by the sound of furious barking. Both men immediately went on alert. The Winchesters were more than familiar with all the different aspects of Jack speak. The furious, unceasing, staccato sound he was making now didn't bode well.

888

As Dean slipped out of the garage, Sam only steps behind him, he found himself cursing the fact that he was unarmed except for the knife in his boot. He normally didn't bother to arm himself when in and about Sara's. The protection the house offered, and the idea of the kids coming across his weapon was reason enough not to bother.

Drawn on by the dog's thunderous barking, Dean headed toward the old barn that rested near the driveway. A leftover from the original farm that once sat on Sara's property, the building no longer housed animals. Instead, it was keeper of the family's bicycles and various outdoor equipment. The dog stood just before the double wide crimson doors. His bear-like feet were spread wide, his stance was threatening, head down, and tail still, the dog looked possessed at the very least. Even as the brothers eased up along side him, the animal continued to hold the barn at bay.

As Dean gained his side, he dropped a hand to Jack's broad, brown back. He could feel the tension that gripped the dog's powerful body. He could almost feel sorry for whatever the animal set his sights on right now.

"He's scared of something," Sam said indicating the old barn with a nod of his head.

Sam was right, Jack was never one to rant and rave, unless your name was Greg. Dean turned toward Sam and opened his mouth to comment.

"It's not Greg, let it go, Dean," Sam said with a roll of his eyes and a gesture toward the barn doors. "Let's see what it is."

Confident he'd be proven right in the end, Dean pulled the knife from his boot and approached the door. With a quick flick he flipped the latch and stepped back to allow the doors to swing open. As soon as their was enough space to fit, Jack barreled through despite Sam's command to stay.

Dean had never seen Jack disobey an order before and his surprise caused him to hesitate. Though he couldn't see far into the dark gloom of the shed, he could clearly hear Jack's continued growls. At last he darted after the dog, Sam hot on his heels. Dean made it a foot inside the darkened barn before he tripped over a rake and hit the ground with a groan. His brother, already committed to following, was unable to stop his momentum before he landed flat out on top of Dean.

As a hundred and ninety pounds of shaggy haired baby brother landed on top of him, Dean's breath was forced out of his chest. Unable to draw in air, Dean lay for a moment gathering his wits. Jack's growls had lessened and were now interspersed with whimpers. "Get off me, Sam," Dean at last managed to wheeze as he shoved at his brother's back. The younger Winchester had landed hard on top of Dean, his shoulder digging into the elder hunter's chest.

At last Sam gathered his Gumby limbs and climbed off him, managing to shove his elbow into Dean's throat for good measure.

"Sorry," Sam sputtered as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Damn, Sam, I think you cracked a rib."

Leaning forward, Sam offered Dean a hand up. "Sorry, man. I just wasn't expecting you to be there."

Dean took the pro-offered hand and allowed his brother to pull him to his feet. "Yeah, well I guess running head-long into Sara's gardening shed wasn't the brightest idea. Where's Jack?"

Sam gestured toward the far corner and headed off in that direction. Jack had stopped growling completely but was whining almost incessantly. "I think he found whatever it was."

Dean wrapped an arm around his ribs and muttered, "Yeah, well I'm telling you, we find he's cornered a raccoon and it's no more 'Snausages' for him."

"I'm fine as long as it isn't a skunk."

Huh, thought Dean, as he dropped back a bit farther. He'd forgotten about the story Sara had told them of the time Jack had cornered a skunk inside the garden fence. Dropping back, even farther, Dean allowed Sam to have the honors. He had no desire to meet up with some little woodland creature that would be happy to skunk him or even worse shoot quills at him.

Sam never seemed to realize he was walking forward alone. At last the big man reached Jack's side and with a low curse he dropped to the ground.

"Sam," Dean called. Unhappy he could no longer see Sam through the clutter, he moved forward to stand by his brother. "What's going on?"

Sam turned and gestured, "I hate to say it but, 'I told you so'."

Dean looked past his brother and saw Greg lying on the floorboards, his sightless eyes leaving the older hunter with no doubt that his brother was right. Greg hadn't been the danger. "What the hell, Sam?"

Sam shrugged and answered, "Beats me, but it can't be good. Look." Sam pointed toward Greg's neck where a small but perfect circular bruise rested just below his jaw.

Jack, no longer whimpering, crawled forward and nuzzled Dean's side. Out of habit, Dean dropped a hand to the dog's thick coat and closed his eyes. Dean's number one suspect had just showed up dead in Sara's garage, leaving the brothers without a clue as to what was going on. "Damnit, Sam."

"We'll figure this out, Dean. I promise you, we will."

Dean nodded and stood, his gaze traveling the length of the corpse. "Good, cause I'm so ready to kill whatever's doing this."