Thanks for reading and for all the reviews. Hope everyone continues to enjoy ther story. Rogue
Chapter Two: Run, Run as Fast as You Can
"Ah, an unexpected delay in the game, but I guess that is to be expected," a breathless voice whispered into Sam's ear, startling him out of his restless slumber.
Sam blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and rubbed them in an agitated manner. His fingers were ice cold, and felt slightly numb and tingly. Although cold, Sam was sweating, his dampened hair hung in thick clumps around his face. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and slid down the nape of his neck. Huddled beneath two comforters, he shivered, a sick feeling washing over him as he felt how drenched the blankets and sheets were.
He braced his hands against the mattress, and tried to push himself into a sitting position. The room abruptly spun off kilter and just as hastily shifted back. Stomach lurching in protest, Sam took in slow measured breaths in an effort to quell the growing ache. Bile rose and burned at the back of his throat. Sam quickly covered his mouth, cheeks expanding as the mutinous bile washed over his tongue looking for a hasty exit. Throwing back his covers, he launched himself off the bed and darted toward the bathroom.
Sam dropped to his knees in front of the white porcelain toilet, and heaved violently. At the feel of a hand on his back, Sam jumped, startled that he hadn't heard his brother enter the bathroom. His stomach churned as he continued to gag, but finally after several long and agonizing minutes, the pain in his stomach finally began to settle. Sam pushed away from the toilet and leaned against the cool wall to catch his breath. The black and white mosaic tiles on the floor shifted in and out of focus, and the coolness of them seemed to seep right through Sam's cotton boxers, causing him to tremble all the harder. Dean grabbed a towel of the rack near the tub, wet it down and handed it to Sam.
"You okay, Sammy?" came Dean's low and comforting voice, his words wrapping themselves around Sam like the warmest of blankets. He knelt on his haunches and began to rub the back of Sam's neck, calloused work-worn hands soothing away the dull aches and pain.
"Yeah, m'okay," Sam mumbled weakly, the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach not yet fully abated. With more effort than he would have imagine it would take, Sam wiped the dampened towel across his face and mouth then tossed it aside.
Dean reached around and felt Sam's forehead with the back of his hand, worry registering in his pale green eyes. "No fever, but your skin still feels ice freakin' cold." With hands on knees, Dean pushed himself into a standing position, and grabbed hold of Sam's hand, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you back to bed, an' then I'll go pay for another night."
Wobbling precariously on shaky legs, Sam grabbed hold of the sink for support, and felt Dean slip an arm around his waist. It was a simple gesture on Dean's part, but it clearly said, 'I gotcha, little brother, an' as long as I'm around nothin' bad's gonna happen to you', and despite how sick and miserably cold he felt, Sam cast a weary smile in his brother's direction.
"Said I was okay. I can make it there by myself." Sam tried to brush his older brother away, but Dean's grip tightened in response and Sam was just too weak to argue.
"You're okay when I say you're okay, an' right now you're not," Dean stubbornly declared, using his 'I'm your big brother and it's my job to take care of you' tone of voice. With his brother's help, Sam trudged back to his bed, and was about to slump down onto it when Dean stopped him. "Change of plans," he said as he eyed the damp, tangled sheets, "you take my bed, an' I'll get some fresh sheets an' blankets from the manager."
"Dean, my bed's fine," Sam weakly protested as he stifled a yawn, "jus' wanna go back to sleep."
"Not gonna argue with you on this, you're taking my bed." Dean guided Sam around the first of the two beds, and with knees buckling Sam dropped down onto his brother's soft mattress. "Let me get you some warmer clothes to put on, an' then you can get some rest."
"Don't feel like changing. What I have on is fine." It was a lie, but Sam couldn't bring himself to tell his brother that he just felt too damn weak to manage getting dressed at the moment.
"Didn't ask you if you wanted to change, said you were gonna put on some warmer clothes." Dean rummaged through Sam's duffel and yanked out a pair of grey sweat pants and long sleeve shirt. He tossed them to Sam, but Sam made no attempt to even try and catch them, and they landed on the bed a few inches away from where he sat.
"Please, Dean, I'm just too damn tired. Jus' wanna go to sleep. Promise I'll change later."
"Not askin' ya to run a marathon here, Sammy," Dean yanked a pair of socks out of the duffel, and tossed them on the bed beside Sam's other clothes, "just want you to put on some warmer clothes." He gave a slight nudged of his head toward Sam's chest. "That freakin' shirt is soaked clear through, an' I'm not about to have you get any sicker. So you can argue all you want, but you are changing, got me?"
One look into his brother's unrelenting green eyes, and Sam knew Dean would not let him get any rest until he did exactly as directed. With a deep agitated groan lingering on his lips, Sam tried to wrestle out of the dampened shirt that clung to his muscular frame. After a few moments of struggling to get his arms out of the sleeves, he gave up and grudgingly let Dean help him.
"Not a freakin' two-year-old, Dean," he grumbled for his own benefit, not liking the idea that his brother knew that he was too exhausted and sick to manage the simple task on his own. Dean's mother-hen protective mode would kick into overdrive now, and Sam very much doubted he would see daylight again until his big brother declared him healthy enough to face the world once more.
"Never said you were." Dean's not so subtle grin spoke volumes to Sam, and Sam braced himself for whatever joke Dean was about to make at his expense. But for once Dean chose to hold back from making any further comments, and for that, Sam was grateful.
Once Dean had helped him put on a warmer flannel shirt, Sam slipped on his sweat pants and socks, the menial task taking the last of his stores of strength. With the bed creaking loudly under protest of his weight, Sam laid down on the mattress, his eyes already closing before his head hit the pillow.
"Thanks, Dean," he mumbled, but wasn't even sure if the words had made it past his lips as sleep quickly overtook him.
"Not a problem, that's what big brothers are for." Dean covered Sam with a thin blanket, and grimaced when he realized it would not be enough to keep his brother's trembling body warm. Not knowing what was wrong with his little brother, Dean hesitated in leaving Sam alone even for the short amount of time it would take to pay for another night and to get fresh blankets, but knew he really didn't have a choice in the matter.
His little brother had been sick many times in the past and Dean had always taken care of him, but never before had he seen Sam so pale nor had his brother ever felt so deathly cold, and it terrified Dean. He knew how to take care of a fever, had been taught by the best to stitch a wound, but no one had ever bothered to tell him what to do if his brother was freezing to death in ninety degree weather.
"I'll be right back, Sam."
"Mmhmm." Sam rolled onto his side and curled into a tight ball, hugging his arms around his legs in an attempt to keep warm.
Dean hesitated a few seconds longer before he grabbed his wallet off the night stand and headed for the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at his brother for a moment. A worried frown creased his brow as he bit at his lower lip, wondering briefly about the nightmare Sam had told him about. Sam had been so insistent that it had been real, had been sure he was drowning in icy water, and now he was literally freezing cold, and Dean couldn't help but think that it was more than just a mere coincidence.
What Dean wasn't quite so sure of yet was if Sam was just sick or was it something supernatural causing his illness, but years of experience had the trained hunter leaning toward the latter. And if it was the latter, then it apparently didn't know what family it was dealing with. No one hurt his little brother and lived to gloat about it. He'd always protected Sam no matter what and this time would be no different, he assured himself as he strode out the door.
Sam shielded his eyes with his hand as he glanced up at the umbrella of trees high overhead that shrouded the forest in near darkness. Nestled somewhere just outside his range of vision, strange exotic sounding birds chirped and cawed. High aloft, several monkeys playfully swung from the thick, sturdy old branches, their screeches blending in perfectly with the other sounds filling the air. A brief smile flitted across his features as he watched them play in complete unawareness of his presence.
The fragrant sweet scent of exotic wild flowers carried on the stifling, steamy breeze, and as Sam slowly pivoted around to take in his surroundings he noticed blooming flowers of every imaginable shape and colour. Vibrant purples, blues, pinks, and fiery reds mingled with deep and light shades of green, reminding Sam of a painter's pallette.
Sam wiped away the fine sheen of moisture on his forehead before raking his fingers through his sweat dampened hair. He took a deep breath and coughed hard, the moist heated air making it hard to breathe properly. His lungs burned with the effort it took to inhale and exhale, and he momentarily wondered if it was the humidity that was causing it or if he was coming down with a cold.
A monstrous green python uncoiled itself from around the gnarled branch of a tree, and slithered down rough bark to the ground. Sam stood stock-still as the hissing creature slithered in his direction. Its beady serpent eyes locked on Sam as its forked tongue flitted in and out of its wide mouth. As the python slithered closer, the hissing sound grew louder, and it momentarily struck Sam odd that it sounded exactly like a sudden burst of hard rain.
"Are you ready to resume the game?" came a deep, silky smooth voice, the sound of it reverberated through the trees, scattering the multi-coloured birds hidden amongst the thick green foliage.
A rustling in the leaves high overhead, momentarily diverted Sam's attention away from the snake. As he narrowed his sights on a crooked branch halfway up the tree directly in front of him, he saw a dark wispy shadow. Within a blink, it whirled away to land on another lofty branch further into the depths of the forest. The tree limb jostled and swayed under its weight before the creature disappeared into thin air.
"A freakin' snake?" Sam took a backward step, and slowly crouched to pick up a thick jagged tree limb. "Is that the best ya got?" he scoffed, a cocksure grin easing across his features. "Would've thought you'd come up with something a little more challenging after the lake."
"The snake?" the voice sounded puzzled for a moment before peels of malicious laughter echoed throughout the dense forest. "No, the python was just a convenient distraction. Listen. Can you hear them? Buzzing. Swarming." The disembodied voice died away, and as Sam craned his neck to listen, he heard a distinct buzzing noise that grew louder by the second. "Can you guess what kind of creatures buzz and swarm?"
Tremors of fear raced down Sam's spine as he squinted and saw what looked like a blackened tornado zig-zagging in his direction. "Bees."
"Not just bees, but killer bees." The inky smooth voice hesitated a moment to allow the direness of the situation to sink in, before it continued, "The second game is called, run, run as fast as you can. You don't outrun them you're a very dead man."
"Freakin' sonuvabitch." The python forgotten, Sam dropped the tree limb, turned on his heel and took off at a dead run, crashing through leafy foliage and stumbling over veiny aboveground roots. Twigs caught and stuck in his hair as he leapt over a fallen log and kept running. Heart pounding hard inside his chest, he dodged around several small trees blocking the narrow dirt path.
Darkness swept over him as the swarm descended. Bees whizzed past his ears, some landing on his exposed arms, stinging him. Sam swatted furiously at them as he darted around scrubs and barreled though webby grey vines.
"Better run faster," came the taunting voice, and Sam glanced upward and briefly caught a glimpse of red serpent-like eyes staring back at him. "You're running out of time."
Sweat streamed down Sam's flushed face, his skin burning as more and more bees stung him. Bees slipped beneath the collar of his t-shirt and crawled around on his back and chest. Stingers like sharpened needles pierced his skin, and he began to slow his pace. Panicking, he slapped at his chest, trying to kill them before more could sting him. Incessant buzzing filled the forest as bees crawled inside his ears and landed in his hair. Fear overtaking any sort of reason, he swatted at his hair, riling the bees further.
"Not such a good idea. What part of killer bees aren't you getting? You're just making them angrier." The faceless creature chuckled. "Should've just continued to run. There's a waterfall not to far from here, you could've made it there. Probably would have been safe then."
"Dean," Sam moaned as he dropped to his knees, red welts covering his fevered skin. More and more bees covered him as he weakly tried to swipe them away. He opened his mouth to call out to Dean again, and bees crawled inside, stinging his tongue and the back of his throat. His body jerked and convulsed as his eyes rolled backward into his head. Crumpling to the ground, the bees covered over him completely.