A/N: Due to a request from a great friend I've decided to post another chapter today. The last two will go up tomorrow. Here's another chapter for all the great people sticking with me here. Lots of angst guaranteed. Check it out and enjoy!
Chapter 5
Dean barreled through the open door of the cabin and skidded to a reckless halt on the rug that had been kicked up when he'd pushed Sam from the doorway. Dean walked around the room, looking over the pristine, light colored-thank god- wood floors for signs of the black spider. Dean checked around the booted up laptop and the chair, looking under the desk for signs of it should it still be alive. Nothing. He checked the chair itself and down between the leather arms and cushion.
"Damnit!" Dean remembered Sam's bag being on his bed. He moved it, ripping the clothes out of it and putting them on top of his pillow, checking each piece and the bag for the spider. He started to rip the covers from the neatly made bed and then stopped as the air from the swirling sheets slid something along the floor that caught his eye. He crouched down. It was the spider, dead. Its shiny black body was laying belly up, long legs curled over the abdomen with the distinctive blood red hourglass pattern. Dean fought off the urge to be sick at what something less than an inch long could put his brother through. He quickly grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk near the laptop and scooped the spider into it. Carefully bunching the paper into a loose ball around the spider's corpse he took off again at a dead run back to Brit and his sick brother. Kody was on the porch and was startled by Dean's headlong flight around the corner. He stood quickly and gave a growl. Dean froze in his tracks, ready to kill the dog if it stood between him and Sam. A piercing whistle from the house turned the dog and he settled immediately. Dean brushed by him and went inside, the dog slipping in before the door closed.
"Brit, you're right, its dead." Dean said as he came into the bedroom at the back of the house. He found Brit wrestling with Sam as he lay seizing on the bed. She had a red mark on her cheek where it looked like Sam had clocked her. Dean dropped the paper beside her and circled the bed, quickly taking Sam from her arms. "It's in the paper by your knee." He said as he struggled to restrain his fiercely shaking baby brother. Sam was gasping, sweat pouring off him. "Easy Sammy. God, calm down. I gotcha, I gotcha, it's okay, you're okay." He murmured nonsense to his unconscious, pain riddled brother, stroking back sweat sopping hair. Brit quickly unfolded the ball of paper and looked at the spider. Dean held Sam while he removed the cut away t-shirt that was still on Sam's muscular arms.
"I can help him here."
"How?"
"I have anti-venom. This is the same damn kind that got me last year. I'll give him a dose and then we need to draw that poison out. It's not gonna be easy on him Dean. He's going to be out of it for a while."
Dean caught sight of the ugly patch of swollen purple skin on his brother's muscular abdomen and cringed. He met Brit's eyes and said, "Do it."
Brit pulled a small cylindrical device from the med kit. It had a green plunger on top and a white tube made up the body. She put it to Sam's thigh against his jeans and depressed the plunger. The thing Dean now recognized as a type of Epipen, gave a small click as the dose was given to Sam and she removed it, tossing it in the trash by her bed. Dean held Sam still and felt the tremors coursing through his body ease slightly as the drug started taking effect. He looked at Brit to see tears glistening in her soft brown eyes.
"What is it?" He asked quietly.
"Now we have to get the venom out. That's the part that is going to hurt him." She reached for the kit and pulled a translucent red plastic bag from the metal box. Inside was a scalpel and a syringe looking pump. An anti-venom pump. Dean watched as her shaking hands pulled both tools from the bag. She removed the clear plastic guard from the scalpel and doused it in the alcohol bottle that she'd removed from the kit.
Dean took it from her hands, his lingering over hers. "It's okay, I'll do it." She nodded and handed the pump to him. She prepared a gauze sponge with antiseptic to wash Sam's wound. Dean made a tiny incision in Sam's abdomen that covered the two seeping bite marks. It was small enough it wouldn't need stitches.Sam moaned as his skin parted beneath the sharp blade. Dean watched as yellowed blood coated the blade and Sam's side. Brit wiped it away and got another sponge, also dousing it with antiseptic as she held it over the trash can. Dean put the pump to the small cut and applied pressure. The sensors in the automatic pump kicked in and sounded like a tiny vacuum as it fastened on to Sam's skin. It created a halo of white as the suction cup pulled at Sam's bruised, swollen skin. Dean watched in horrified fascination as the clear tube at the bottom filled with the awful looking yellowed, toxin attacked blood.
"Less than a minute Dean. That's all you need. Once the blood looks normal you can take it off." Brit said quietly. Sam's tremors had faded to near gone. He was still feverish but appeared to be resting, the drug working to save his life. Dean watched and a few seconds later red blood began being sucked into the small clear vial. He tipped the pump to the side and it began to draw air, popping loose from Sam's side. Brit moved in and cleaned the wound, putting antibiotic cream on it; she covered it with a band-aid and took the pump from Dean's hands. She moved away, restocking the med kit from packages under her sink. She drained and disinfected the pump and put it away, returning it to its proper place and putting the med kit back under the sink. She grabbed the antique porcelain basin and pitcher off the shelf in the bathroom and filled the pitcher with cool water. She dropped a washcloth in the bowl and carried both to Sam's side, putting the bowl on the nightstand. She poured water in the bowl over the washcloth and brushed Sam's hair out of his closed eyes. Dean was watching Sam, his hands shaking at how close he'd come to losing his brother, when Brit pulled a thin blue cover up to Sam's waist.
Brit wiped her hands on her jeans and touched Dean's shoulder. "He'll be okay. Why don't you clean him up some and relax here?" She gave him a squeeze and walked out of the room. Kody came in as Brit left and lay down at Dean's feet where he sat beside Sam on the bed. Dean shook himself and looked at the dog.
"You know I'd have shot your ass if you kept me from my brother." Kody gave an unconcerned yawn and put his head on his large front paws. "Stupid mutt." Dean said with a slight smile on his face. He reached for the cloth in the basin and squeezed the excess water from it. He bathed Sam's face and washed blood and sweat from his features and hair, making sure the cut received attention. It was minor and wouldn't need stitches. Putting a hand to Sam's pale cheek he noticed the fever going down. He sighed in relief. "That's it Sammy. You'll be okay." Sam sighed and turned his head into Dean's hand. Dean shifted on the bed and scooted up next to the headboard. He pulled Sam into his arms slightly and adjusted the cover around him. Sam shifted on the bed and turned his face into Dean's arm. Dean leaned his head back against the pine headboard and began to doze, knowing Sam was safe.
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Brit came into the room early the next afternoon and found Dean sleeping, half sitting up on the bed next to Sam. She walked over to him and touched his shoulder. He startled awake. "Sammy?"
"Sorry. He's fine. Look." Dean looked at Sam to find him still sleeping, His fever was gone and his color much better.
"Thank God." Dean whispered, brushing the long hair out of Sam's eyes. Sam had turned over in his sleep and buried a hand up under the pillow. He stood and stretched, earning several cracks from his back and neck. He groaned.
"C'mon. Coffee's on. Let him sleep." They walked down the hall through the living room to the kitchen and Dean sat down on one of the high-backed stools, running a hand through his short cropped hair.
"Brit, I'm sorry."
She stared at him. "For what?"
"Sam. I didn't know what was wrong. I wasn't sure how to help him. I ruined your night."
"You listen to me Dean Winchester. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad he's going to be okay and he is all that matters. Now, it's too late for breakfast. Do you feel like some lunch? I'm imagining that you didn't get to eat those sandwiches last night seeing as you'd just left when you came back with Sam."
"No. I kinda dropped them when I realized something was wrong. I couldn't get in the door because he was on the floor against it. I needed both hands to push it open."
"It's okay. I'll make you something. You want anything special?"
"Nah. Anything'll work. That's the thing about life on the road. You can't be picky."
"Why do you do it Dean? My granddad and dad were hunters. Mom didn't seem to mind too much until Dad mentioned wanting to train me. But they were always gone. Granted Dad didn't take anything on that he didn't know he could take, because he didn't want to risk never coming home to me and mom again, but still…. he was always exhausted. He'd come home so many times and the things he'd seen… he'd just hold me close and cry. Why do you put yourselves through that?"
"Honestly?" Dean looked from the table top to Brit. He swallowed, his down-turned mouth and pursed lips making a dimple show in his cheek. "Because of Sam and my mom. They had so much taken from them. Mom was twenty nine when she died. Sammy, other than pictures and the time he saw her spirit, doesn't even know what she looks like. I can't stand the thought of someone else going through that kinda hell. If I can stop it, I do. It's worth living this life if I can save people, keep families together. It is."
Brit fell silent and soon had a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato in front of Dean. She took a stool next to Dean and watched him briefly as he bit into the sandwich.
"Do I get one?" Came a voice from the doorway. Dean turned and nearly choked on his mouthful of food. Sam stood in the doorway, leaning wearily against the frame. He had his gray flannel on, unbuttoned, with nothing beneath it. Patches of raised and swollen skin were visible against the paleness of his usually tan skin. He looked shaky and drawn, pain lines still visible around his eyes and mouth. Dean quickly jumped from the stool and grabbed Sam as he stepped forward, using his strength to steady his wobbly brother. "What happened?" Sam asked as he leaned on his brother, not liking how weak he felt.
"Damnit Sammy, you should still be sleeping. You got bit by a spider and damn near died. "
"I'm hungry."
Dean smiled and clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder as he helped him sit on the third stool. "Do you think you can make another sandwich?"
"Glad to." Brit said turning to her refrigerator.
Sam ate part of the sandwich Brit made him and was exhausted by the time he was finished. He began weaving on the high backed stool, and put his elbow on the table, absently massaging his temple. Dean watched him carefully and saw his eyes begin drooping. He stood and pulled Sam upright, looping one of his arms around his neck. Dean used one hand to hold the limp appendage in place and the other he wrapped around Sam's waist. Supporting his brother Dean looked at Brit and grinned. "Looks like somebody needs a nap. C'mon Sammy, back to bed."
"No Dean. I… Ahh!" Sam's hand that had been hanging at his side shot to his head again. Dean stopped the walk to the bedroom and held his brother steady. Sam's chin fell to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. His knuckles turned white as he pressed harder against his temple with a closed fist. Sam's legs gave out just as Dean helped him lurch to the couch. Dean eased him down and crouched in front of him.
"Sammy?" Sam's eyes opened and lost focus. "Sam!" Dean held him by both shoulders now and resisted the urge to shake him out of the damn vision. He's too weak for this shit. Brit had followed them into the living room when Sam had cried out. Now she was on the other side of Sam running her hand over his arm.
"What can I do to help?"
"He has to come out of it on his own. Damnit, he's too weak for this." Dean said, voicing his earlier thoughts.
Dean was on his back at the base of a tree. Fire flickered brightly off to his left. His arm and hand were bloody, a gash showing on his jacket, blood shining black in the moonlight. His hand was slipping on the trigger grip of the shotgun that he held pointed at the spirit that had Brit by the shoulder. Its rusted bayonet held against her throat cut a fine line across her neck as she trembled. A dog's body lay off to the side, bloody in the moonlight.
"Shoot him." She said, shaking with fear.
Sam came up from behind and pointed his own shotgun at the spirit's back. Dean gave the signal and Sam, instead of firing, yelled out. "Hey!" The spirit turned, holding Brit in front of it. The blade dug further into her neck briefly before the spirit pulled it across her throat. She gurgled and fell to the leaf litter. Brit's body falling away revealed a grisly wound over the spirit's heart. Made with its own weapon. "NO!" Sam cried out, firing his gun. The spirit howled and dispersed only to reappear directly in front of Dean and run him through. Dean screamed in agony as he looked at his chest, a gaping wound there and a rusty blade that flickered in stark relief under the moonlight as the spirit flickered. Dean looked at Sam, blood leaking from his mouth as his eyes slid closed. He slumped at the base of the tree and that galvanized Sam into motion.
He roared and lunged at the spirit, firing again as he advanced on the spirit. It screamed and disappeared, reappearing directly in front of Sam. It shoved the blade tipped rifle forward and impaled Sam as he attempted to tackle the semisolid spirit. Sam gasped, looking down startled, as the blade flickered in and out where just the hilt was visible protruding from his stomach. The spirit pulled back on the flintlock and the blade pulled free, blood coated and flickering in the moonlight with the spirit. Sam fell to his knees, blood pumping through the hands that he'd clasped over the wound sometime. He choked, blood leaking from his mouth, and fell forward, motionless. Blood pooled under his body as the spirit flickered out of sight.
Sam gasped and fell back against the couch, eyes rolling back into his head. Dean touched him, shocked at how warm he felt. Sam's breathing was too shallow and his pulse way too fast. "Damn it. Help me get him back to the bedroom. He's sick again." Brit quickly stood and helped Dean maneuver Sam into a standing position. He started to fall forward, sliding to the floor, but Brit and Dean acted quickly. Brit slid herself under one of Sam's arms and held it around her neck as his head lolled onto her shoulder, bumping her bruised cheek. Dean took Sam's other arm and wrapped one of his around Sam's waist. They half dragged him to the bedroom, but soon had him settled on the bed again. Sam shifted restlessly and cried out a weak "No!" Dean put a hand to Sam's warm cheek and whispered soothingly. Sam seemed to settle some and then he gave another cry, stronger this time as he thrashed on the bed. His shirt fell open to reveal bruising on his abdomen around both the bandage covered bite mark and a previously unmarred area. Dean gaped, touching the new bruising. "What the hell?"
"NOOO!" Sam cried out, his body surging upwards as he bolted upright on the bed. Dean arched back from his close position to Sam and caught his brother in his arms. Sam's eyes were darting wildly about and he focused on nothing. He fought, crying out every few seconds, and tried to break free of Dean's strong arms.
"Sam, STOP! Stop, Damnit. It's okay! Sammy, please. Please man, it's okay. STOP SAM, STOP!" Dean shouted as Sam still fought. Sam shook, his eyes still going wild, arms thrashing as if still caught in the waking nightmare that was one of his visions. He stiffened abruptly and fell forward into Dean's arms, breathing raggedly. Dean pulled him in and held him close as he trembled, muttering soft, meaningless words to his distraught brother. "Shh, you're out of it now. It's okay. It's over, Sammy, I'm here." Dean stroked back Sam's sweat drenched hair and held his head against his shoulder. Sam gave a weak cough and settled, slumping slightly in Dean's arms. Dean went to lay him back on the bed but as he moved he felt something dampen his shirt where Sam's head had been. Oh, damn. I knew I should've done something with that cut. He must've busted it back open fighting me. Dean laid Sam's head back on the pillow.
"Sammy!"
A/N: I know, I know. I'm so mean leaving you all like this but I simply can't help myself. Someone call the guys to exorcise the cliffie demon! Next update coming tomorrow. See you then.