Okay guys… I have officially been wowed past any standards at the response you have given me on this story! I'm so happy!

Okay… Looks around embarrassedly…

Anyway…

Many thanks go out to TammiTam for volunteering her beta'ing services for this story… She did a wonderful job…

Enjoy…

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Chapter 2:

'Waste away, I'm crawling blind
Followed by what I left inside...'
-Red, Hide

Dean watched his brother collapse as if in slow motion. He watched as Sam's eyes had rolled into the back of his head, and as all the strength had left his body. The elder Winchester brother couldn't believe what was happening, just that morning he and Sam had been at each other's throats over a stupid girl, and now... now Sam was still, a dead weight in his arms.

From where Sam's body touched his, Dean could feel the heat radiating from his little brother. He couldn't help but wonder how long Sam had been feeling bad, to keep it from him like he had. He had always been a whiz at hiding his emotions, but Sam had usually been an open book, and for him to hide something like this from his family, from Dean...

What the hell had he been thinking?

"We need to get him inside," his father's voice drew Dean from his thoughts, and he had never been so glad for an interruption. "Quickly Dean, c'mon."

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This can not be happening!

John watched as his youngest fell, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He had known that something was wrong the moment he had touched Sam to wake him in the truck. He couldn't believe that he had let the issue go with a simple nod from Sam, telling him that he was okay, when clearly he was not!

"We need to get him inside," his own voice startled John. He had not been aware he had even opened his mouth, but the words were spoken in his voice, so John supposed he had. Looking down at Sam, he realized that the comment had been a true one. They did need to get Sam inside, and they had to do it before anyone saw them.

"Quickly Dean, c'mon," he urged, bending down to wrap Sam's left arm around his shoulders, as Dean did the same with his right. Together the eldest Winchesters maneuvered Sam to the room John had gotten for the next week, not caring about the gear they had left sitting in the parking lot, only that they get the youngest of their family to a bed. Get him to a bed where they could properly assess just what had gone wrong.

John and Dean dragged Sam over to the bed farthest from the door, both of them not realizing what they were doing out of habit. Laying him down gently, John left Dean there with him, and ran out to the truck to grab the duffle which carried their first aid kit and again leaving the rest of the gear, he ran back into the room, shutting the door against prying eyes and any danger that might come along.

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Sam was floating. He could feel the pain from his side, but it was as if it were far away, the alternating throbs and spikes only echoes of what they had been when he had been fully aware of his surroundings. He could feel hands on him, and movements around him, but just as with the pain, everything was far away.

Nothing could touch him...

Sam smiled at the thought, or at least he thought he had. With the distance between his mind and his body, he couldn't be sure if everything was working like he thought it was.

Dad and Dean must be freaked.

The thought was amusing, but Sam knew it was probably true. He wasn't awake, he knew that, and he also knew that he was really asleep. He was out of it, against his will, and Dean and his father would never be happy about that. It was never a good thing when he didn't have a choice of being awake, asleep, or a combination of both. That usually meant he was sick, or hurt, or a combo of the two; and if he knew his family like he thought he did, that meant they were doing some pretty heavy freaking.

Again Sam smirked at the thought. He couldn't really imagine either his brother, or his hard-assed father actually freaking out and losing composure. Inwardly laughing at the thought of either man running around screeching like a girl, Sam once again slipped into the darkness that encompassed him.

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Dean Winchester was not a doctor by any means, but when he saw the gash in his brother's side he knew it was bad. The edges were red and raised, and when Dean felt them, the heat made him flinch. The heat coming from the rest of his little brother's body couldn't have meant anything good either.

Pulling Sam's shirt over his head as gently as he could, Dean sighed to himself. Why his brother would do anything as stupid as to keep his health a secret, he would never know.

Dean leaned over to get a better look at the jagged laceration in his brother's left side. Trying to look past the raised, red edges, the elder brother used his thumbs on either side of the wound and pulled the edges apart a little. Dean looked up, hoping for a reaction from Sam, but the younger man never moved.

Swallowing down his disappointment, Dean turned his attention back to the gash and peered inside. He could see dirt congealed in fresh blood, and as he pried a little more, yellowish-green puss seeped out. "Dammit Sammy," Dean hissed, "you know better than this. You know to clean a wound, and keep it clean." His tone was soft, but the words were hard.

Sam knew this!

"What were you thinking?" Dean whispered, getting up with a deep sigh. He walked to the bathroom, and grabbed a small wash towel. Leaning over the sink, he turned on the water and waited for it to warm. All the while he was thinking to himself the same thing, Watch out for Sammy. The order had been instilled in him when he had been four, and he couldn't help thinking that he had failed.

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John walked in the room just as Dean came out of the bathroom carrying a wet wash cloth. "How is he?" The eldest Winchester asked, looking pointedly at the unconscious and feverish boy on the bed.

"Stupid," Dean answered automatically, his voice almost a growl.

"Now hold on-" John started, but was cut off when Dean all but yelled at him.

"No! There is no excuse for this dad. He didn't properly clean the damn gash, and he let it get infected! He could-"

"Dean," John cut his eldest off softly, "I checked the wound the night he got it, while he was sleeping. He did clean it right, he did a damn good job of it. It that wound is dirty, it must have happened recently." Dean looked as if he had been struck.

"Oh, okay," he answered slowly, looking sorrowfully at his brother. The younger man was now shivering, and his body heat seemed to have shot up in the time it had taken Dean to get in and out of the bathroom. "Shit," he mumbled, and moved to sit beside Sam. "Dad, get the thermometer," Dean ordered, not caring that it was his father he had talked that way to, his brother being more important at the moment.

John looked surprised at Dean's tone for a moment, before he shook his head and unzipped the duffle bag. Rooting through the contents of the bag, he searched for the familiar tool, all the while hoping that when he found it, the little machine would give him good news about Sammy. Finally feeling the device, John pulled his hand out of the bag triumphantly, and handed the small piece of plastic to Dean.

Dean took the object without a word, and checking to make sure it worked right, he took the plastic covering off the end. Placing his pointer and middle finger on Sam's chin, he gently pried open the younger boy's mouth, and placed the end of the thermometer under Sam's tongue. He then closed Sam's mouth and waited for the beep that would determine how things were handled.

It took a minute, but the beep came, and with it, Dean's anxiety shot through the roof. "Uh, Dad?" Dean asked, waiting for the older man to look at him, "we got a problem," he said looking down at the reading off the thermometer.

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A/N: So I hope you all enjoyed this, review and tell me either way.

Take care yah'all,

OSS