A/N: Here's another chapter for everyone still following this one. This is what you've all been waiting for, the start of the action and what's wrong with Sam. Thanks and enjoy! It gets better from here. BTW, what happens to Sammy in the end of this chapter happened to me and trust me it SUCKED!

Chapter 4

"Gaahhh." He cried out and shot the other hand up to press on his eyes. He ducked his head and turned from Brit as Dean rushed forward. He dropped the pack that had been slung over one shoulder and caught Sam as his legs gave out; lowering him gently instead of letting him crash to the leaf litter. Sam was breathing heavily, near gasping. He groaned and his hands fell away from his temples, head lolling on his shoulders as Dean moved to support him

"Oh my God. What's wrong with him?" Brit asked; kneeling down to help any way she could.

"Just give me a minute, Brit. Please." Dean moved to hold Sam's head against his chest. He lifted his face and looked at his pain-clenched eyes willing them to open. Sam flinched and his eyes snapped open, quickly gaining that hated stare. "Sammy, c'mon. Come back, man."

Sam saw Dean and then a flash of white split his skull. He saw nothing for a second then…

Dean had the shotgun clenched in a bloody hand. A fire raged in the boulders nearby, the outline of a broken skeleton in a crevice rapidly blackening but still visible. He was shaking and blood leaked from a gash on his bicep that had split the fabric of his black jacket. He was sitting on the leaf strewn ground, backed up against the trunk of a tree. His gun was aimed at Brit, or rather the spirit that had her by the shoulder from behind. A flintlock rifle topped with a rusted looking Bayonet was placed against her throat. She was shaking from fear and the sharp blade drew a fine line of blood from her neck.

"Shoot him." She said quietly. Dean looked behind the spirit to see Sam gain his footing from where he'd fallen when the spirit attacked him. He met Dean's eyes and nodded. Dean returned it, barely a visible movement but it was enough for Sam to pick up on it. Sam raised his own shotgun and fired. Brit gave a choking cry and the spirit howled and dispersed. A look of horror crossed Dean's features as Brit fell, blood pooling around her cut throat and gushing over the leaves that rested under and around her body. Steam rose from the escaping life-giving fluid as it rapidly cooled in the chilly April night.

Sam gave a choked scream as his eyes cleared rapidly. He began shaking horribly, his teeth chattering. "D-D-Dean."

"Easy, Sammy."

"'m c-cold." Brit quickly reached into her pack as she removed it from her shoulders. She pulled out an emergency blanket and took it out of its waterproof bag. She spread it over Sam and Dean and Dean held Sam close, trying to get some heat to his brother.

"What'd you see?"

"See? What do you mean what did he see?"

"Sam has visions. He's psychic. It takes a lot outta him. Just give him time and he'll explain." Dean said. Brit reached back into her bag when she saw Sam swallow hard and removed a bottle of Gatorade. Sam was still breathing heavily and shaking while sweating. She was concerned, with the chill in the early spring air, about his health. Dean took it from her and cracked the seal, giving Sam a sip. He swallowed and took another.

"T-t-thanksss." Sam said around a shiver. Dean held him closer. Sam's chills began to subside and he seemed to regain his bearings a few minutes later. Dean helped Sam sit upright and moved out from behind him, still keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay now."

"What did you see, Sam?" Dean asked.

"The spirit. It attacked us. The vision… it's going to happen tonight." Sam stood shakily and Dean kept that hand on him, helping him gain his center. "Thanks, Brit." He said as he handed the blanket back to her. No one saw the black speck that clung to Sam's jacket near his waist. She folded it and returned it to the bag she'd pulled it from. As she turned to put it in her pack Sam looked at Dean and mouthed- I need to talk to you. Sam lurched off into a clearing just off the trail and Dean followed hastily, concerned with the fact that Sam didn't want Brit to know what he'd seen.

"What's goin' on with you, Sammy?"

Sam whirled. "Dean, I saw her die. I saw you get hurt and I saw her get her throat cut by the spirit. It had a flintlock with a bayonet tip. It used it to cut her throat when I shot it. You were on the ground against a tree and bleeding. I felt the damn thing hit me in the vision and when I stood up I shot the bastard. It dispersed, but not before it cut her throat. We have to get her outta here. This is goin' to happen tonight. We need to find a new way to stop this thing. We can't let her get killed and I don't want you hurt."

"I'm not leaving if that's what you think." Brit said from where she'd walked up soundlessly behind Sam. He jumped and turned.

"Brit…"

"No Sam. That thing is killing people. It. Killed. My. Aunt. I'm not sitting this out."

"Then we need to go back to your place, do more research, and try to find a way to kill this thing for good."

"I thought we were going to find the body. I thought you could kill it somehow that way."

"We burned the remains and it still attacked. I'm thinking the flooding disturbed the spirit by moving the remains. Out here," Sam gestured, opening his arms wide, "it's going to be impossible to find all the remains and if we miss something, anything, it's not going to stop."

"Fine. But this thing is going to be stopped. And I'm not staying home."

"Okay. We just need to find a way to protect you better then."

Brit clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You will." The three of them walked back to where Dean had dropped his pack in order to help Sam. He grabbed the bag was about to sling one strap over his shoulder when Sam held out his hand. Dean reached in and removed Sam's shotgun, handing it to him. Sam quickly opened the breech and checked the rock salt rounds. Satisfied, he nodded to Dean and the three of them walked back the way they had come to Brit's trail rig. Dean led the way and Sam brought up the rear, on high alert as he protected Brit. The sun was starting its descent over the horizon as they made it back to the Ford. They stowed the weapons and, getting up into the vehicle, Brit got them uneventfully back to the bottom of the mountain and the house. She parked the rig next to the Impala.

"Brit, you should go inside. Dean will come with you to make sure you're protected."

"I know about salt. I just haven't used it in a long time."

"You're doin' it tonight." Dean said as he opened the trunk of the Impala and removed a can of rock salt and some cat's eye shells.

"Hey, man, I'm gonna call Bobby, see if he has any ideas on how we can kill this thing." Sam said, absently scratching his side. "Then I'm gonna do some more research."

"Alright Sammy. I'll be there as soon as I lay down some salt lines."

"I'll make you guys some sandwiches you can take with you Dean." Brit said as she moved up her porch and let Kody inside. Dean followed her in, putting down a line of salt at the front door. He was pleased that the smooth wooden floor allowed the salt to lay in a thick, even line. He then put a cat's eye shell on the table near the door for added protection. He followed Brit into the kitchen and started there, as she made sandwiches, salting doors and windows; anything with outside exposure.

Sam went in the small cabin and pulled his cell phone from the bag on his bed. As he straightened up he felt a sharp sting in his right side. He smacked at his side with his hand, wondering if mosquitoes were out already. I hate camping. He thought. He scratched at his side and sat down in front of his laptop. He called Bobby, who answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bobby, its Sam."

"Sam, how'd the hunt go?"

"It didn't. There's a problem I need your help with. We went up on the mountain and I had a vision."

"What about?" Bobby asked, not sounding surprised.

"We tried to find the remains and did, so we burned them. The spirit didn't stop. It attacked us and hurt Dean. Dean was gonna shoot the fugly bastard but it grabbed Brit. I shot it and it dispersed, but not before it killed her. Slit her throat with its bayonet. We got off the mountain before it could attack her. Dean's laying down salt lines now. Any ideas?" Sam cleared a throat that had suddenly become scratchy. I hope I'm not catching a cold. He thought bemusedly.

"Did you get anything else from the vision? See any wounds on the ghost? What about your research? Find out who he was?"

Sam found himself having to concentrate. He put a hand up to his temple as it gave a sharp throb and he gasped as a spasm caught the muscles of his abdomen. "Uh, yeah. His name was Jonathan Murphy. He led a mutiny of sorts against General Braddock, trying to get him to let the soldiers rest. Braddock charged him with treason and …. Ahh… killed him with his own bayonet. I didn't…" Sam gasped again, his vision going blurry as he looked at his computer screen. "Didn't see any wounds, but the spirit had gained enough form to hold onto Brit while it killed her."

"Sam, are you okay?" Sweat beaded on Sam's forehead as chills suddenly racked his frame.

"Uh, not sure Bobby. I'll call you back." Sam shut off his phone and dropped it, having trouble breathing. His throat felt like it was closing off and he began to wheeze. He stood from the chair and lifted his shirt. Looking at his right side he saw a large blotch of nearly purple skin. It was very swollen and yellow tinged blood leaked in droplets from two tiny puncture wounds located closely side by side in the middle of the wound. Slightly black looking streaks shot out from around the discolored flesh and followed his veins. Another muscle spasm had him clutching at his stomach and dropping to his knees as he battled nausea to draw in air. "Guh-huuuuhhh." Sam drew a wheezing breath and fought his way back to his feet. "D-dean." He stammered. Sam managed two more steps in his rapidly spinning room before his legs gave out again. He fell, unmoving; his body curled up fetal position, effectively blocking the door. . He cracked his head off the table by the door as he went down, opening a gash about an inch long above his left eyebrow. Darkness claimed him before he hit the floor.

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"Here are your sandwiches, Dean." Brit said as she handed him two ham and cheese subs. "Hey, thanks for helping me feel safe tonight." She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled.

"I'll see you in the morning with some answers to this. I promise." Dean turned and left. She followed him through the living room and sat down on the couch. Kody immediately came to lie at her feet. She stroked the dog's fur between his ears as he watched Dean walk out the front door.

Dean walked down the short slope to the cabin he shared with Sam. He shifted the sandwiches to his left hand and tried the door with his right. The door wouldn't open even though the knob turned. "Sammy, open the door." Dean listened for sounds of him coming to the door. He heard nothing, except a barely audible high pitched sound. "Sammy? Open up or I'll eat your sandwich." Again nothing. Dean gave another push and the door opened about three inches. Enough for him to see a mop of dark hair on the floor and hear a wheezing breath. "Sammy!" Dean shouted. "Sam, wake up. You need to move away from the door." No movement aside from another tremor and wheeze. Dean fought against the bile rising in his throat at thoughts of something wrong with his baby brother. He also rebelled against the adrenaline that began to course through his body. He pushed on the door with steady pressure, not wanting to injure Sam, but needing desperately to get through the only entrance to the room that contained his only remaining, obviously injured family member.

Dean dropped the sandwiches and used both hands to push against the door, crouching slightly to put the bulk of the pressure low to counteract Sam's weight against it. Sam was lying on the rug at the entrance to the cabin and with Dean's steady push the rug and Sam began to slide across the wooden floor. After what seemed like hours Dean finally had enough of an opening to squeeze through. He quickly stepped over his brother and dropped to his knees, leaving the door open.

Sam faced him, eyes closed. His arms were wrapped tightly about his abdomen and, along with the wheeze, that signaled at least he was still breathing; Sam was trembling, near seizing. A look of pain crossed his features and caused lines around his closed eyes. He moaned and instinctively curled in on himself as if warding off cramps.

"Sammy? Sam, hey." Dean reached out to touch Sam and recoiled before ever making contact. Heat was radiating off Sam like he was a furnace. Sweat streaked his face and he moaned again, his body shaking with a tremor. "Oh god." Dean said, running a hand over his mouth in shock at the sight of his brother. He took in Sam's pale, fever spotted cheeks and the blue tinge around his lips. Sam gave another wheeze and that sound spurred Dean into action. Dean shifted Sam so that he lay on his back and tipped open his airway. Dean quickly pulled his small flashlight from his jacket pocket, turned it on, opened Sam's mouth and looked inside. Sam had spots, looking like hives, around the inside of his throat. It was badly swollen, nearly constricted shut. Dean gasped at the sight and Sam began choking at the same time. Dean quickly changed Sam's position and pulled him nearly upright against his shoulder. Sam gave another cough and moaned, pulling in air around a wheeze. Dean made up his mind. "You hang on Sammy. I'm taking you to Brit."

Dean supported Sam's head, allowing it to rest against his shoulder. He wrapped one strong arm around Sam's back after putting one of Sam's own loosely around his shoulders. Dean ducked his head and Sam's arm flopped limply against the back of Dean's neck. Dean quickly reached for Sam's knees and scooped him up. Sam moaned but didn't awaken as the shift in positions caused him pain. "Sorry Sammy, but all this sweat and you're still damn heavy." Dean gave a grunt and stood, his leg muscles straining visibly beneath his black jeans. He shouldered the door the rest of the way open, careful of Sam's bleeding head, and made the way up the hill to Brit's house.

Dean was breathing hard by the time he walked up the hill with Sam's unresponsive weight in his arms. "BBRRRRRIIIIIIIIT!" He screamed, stopping at the bottom of the covered porch. He heard Kody bark loudly and running footsteps from inside. The door was flung open and Brit stood on the porch, rifle in hand, dressed in her jeans and a black tank top. The wooden screen door banged shut behind her as she dropped the rifle to her side and barreled down the porch steps.

"Oh my God! What the hell happened?"

"I dunno." Dean near panted. "He's sick."

"Let's get him inside." Brit went up on the porch and held the screen door wide for Dean. "Put him on my bed. We need to find out what made him sick. Do you think it was the vision?"

"No. They've never done this to him before." Dean panted as he put Sam down on the bed. Sam's head tossed and he tried to curl up on himself again. Brit restrained him. Sam now had large blotches of hives on the underside of his arms and the soft tissue of his neck.

"Oh god. I've seen this before." Brit quickly began moving his clothes, exposing various body parts. She discovered more hives on Sam's shoulders. "We need to get these clothes off him, find the bite." She said urgently.

"Bite, what bite?" Dean queried, worry streaking through him at the sight of the awful marks on Sam's skin.

"Spider. Dean, I need you to do something if you want to help Sam."

"Name it. Our med kit is in the trunk."

"I need you to go back to the cabin. Look for a spider around where Sam might have walked, or sat. I assume he has a laptop at the desk. Check the chair and the floor. He may have killed it when it bit him and not realized what it was."

"What kind of spider am I looking for?"

"Judging by Sam's reaction, I'd say a Northern Black Widow. The bites themselves are rarely fatal; it's the reaction people have that kills them. You have to hurry; I need to know for sure." Dean stood and raced from the room. Brit heard the door slam and caught a glimpse of Dean's form racing at breakneck speeds down the small slope to the cabin. She turned back to Sam and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling it off, she noticed two tiny drops of yellowed blood on his white t-shirt. She felt the heat before she touched his side and knew the bite lay beneath and it was bad. She raced into her bathroom and withdrew her med kit from the cabinet beneath the sink. She went back to him, and removing sharp scissors from the kit, she cut his shirt away. She gasped.

A/N: Uh-oh(as my baby nephew says) What's going on now? How bad is Sammy? Find out tomorrow! Drop me a line and let me know what you think!