Chapter 6

Sam pushed on worried that he'd come across no more evidence of Dean's progress. He'd gone several hundred yards to the left after the path had divided, taking the more obvious route but then backtracked after he found nothing. Checking each side, beating back the bushes he made sure that he hadn't missed anything as he returned to the junction where the path had forked, before he took the left hand branch.

Although the earlier rain had stopped it had left the air full of moisture and sticky with heat. It made Sam uncomfortable, water dripped from the leaves above soaking his already perspiring skin and plastering his hair to his head. Hampered by his wet clinging clothes he struggled on, each step he took rubbing his raw feet sore, the tight tearing of his blood-dried socks breaking open the cuts from his climb repeatedly.

Sam stopped, shook like a dog spraying water droplets from him in arcing lines, then pushing back his hair and sucking on his bottom lip he stepped forward again continuing to scour the ground in front and the scrub at either side of the path. To his hunter's eye the track was noticeably less used than the other, narrow and more overgrown as it twisted off into the forest gloom. His hand went up in an unconscious movement rubbing the back of his neck soothing the sharp prickling feeling which had settled at the top of his spine.

Swinging round quickly he scanned behind him his unease rapidly escalating into alarm but nothing seemed out of place or untoward. Sam turned back still guarded, convinced that that he was not alone and a little weirded out by the sensation. He knew enough not to dismiss these feelings. His 'intuition' for want of a better word had proven all too accurate in the past to ignore but he couldn't stop to investigate now, his first priority, outside of self-preservation, had to be finding Dean; whatever else was out there would have to wait.

He continued on for several yards still troubled by his apprehension and disheartened by the lack any sign of his brother, when some sixth sense made him duck. A shadow skimmed above him, close and Sam threw his arms up protectively crouching ready to ward off a blow.

An owl passed silently overhead. It flew swooping low to the ground then flapping once, gained height, brushing past Sam its wing feathers displacing the air wafting the long strands of hair on the crown of his head. Sam eyes followed the bird fascinated by its stealth and beauty until it settled on a branch, swivelled its head and blinked at him. For a moment he made contact with the wild creature, the green intensity of its eyes pulling Sam in, capturing his interest and curiosity before it was off again disappearing amongst the trees.

The urge to follow it was strong and Sam walked forward away from the main track hardly aware that he'd moved eyes fixed on the spot where... A branch scraped across the back of his hand dragging on his sleeve. Sam pulled himself up. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be searching for his brother. About to turn back to the main trail he glanced down and clearly marked on the wet mud at his feet was the heel pattern of Dean's boot. His brother had come this way. Suddenly the eerie feeling was back creeping him out, if he hadn't followed the owl he would never have seen the track… an owl with green eyes, he shook the thought from his mind, he had to concentrate on finding Dean.

Continuing carefully along the threadlike avenue between the trees, glancing back every couple of paces, he searched again for traces of his brother. This time he was rewarded as he spotted more boot imprints near a broken branch and further on scuffmarks. He quickened his pace heartened by the knowledge he was on his brother's trail but cursing the time he'd lost.

XXxxxxxxxx

Tremors shook Dean's frame as he clutched his arms around himself. For a while he'd been barely conscious only aware of the pain and the thirst. The fever still raged through his body but worse now were the cramps which griped at his abdomen making him suck in and hold his breath. Several times he'd tried to sit up knowing that the longer he stayed where he was the more danger there was of him dying. He fought hard but the dizziness, the pulsing ache in his head combined with the sharp physical pain of his ribs and hip had defeated him, taking him back down to the floor to lie in tired, dejected misery.

He swallowed dryly, trying to elicit some kind of moisture. The cool water from the leaf a fading, taunting memory. Dean was, in truth, finding it hard to remember anything so wrapped was his body in his suffering that how or why he had come to the forest had lost meaning for him; the hut becoming his only actuality. However, some part of him remained disconnected and sentient finding the whole thing frightening and surreal because in this actualisation the creation of his fevered mind, the racoon, 'sat' grooming itself not four feet from him in total surround sound smelly vision.

It had left for a while and Dean despite himself had missed it, feeling slightly bereft, irked by being abandoned by his own hallucination but it had returned, shuffling in through the door, settling itself in front of the cold hearth.

There it had remained watching.

The creature was watching him now almost smirking, if racoons smirked. Perversely Dean ignored it, unwilling to acknowledge that he'd formed an attachment, hoping, trying to convince himself that if he avoided looking at it, resisted ratifying its existence either in reality or delusion then his psyche would banish its presence in a puff of disbelief.

It didn't work and Dean couldn't help but view the creature as it rubbed its paws over its ears and head licking them clean, then repeating the movement. Sometimes it chewed, spreading its claws making little sucking and snorting sounds as its yellow teeth nibbled between its toes.

Dean caved in, unable to keep silent. "Dude, take a bath." It came out as a croak and the effort exhausted him.

"You should sleep."

Dean grunted. If his delusion could do no more than state the obvious then they were never going to get anywhere. "Aren't you supposed to say something incisive and intuitive."

"Do you want me to?" Its green eyes blinked slowly regarding him thoughtfully and when Dean didn't reply it continued. "You should show your feelings more."

"Yeah, thanks for that. I love you too." He frowned, s**t had he just said he loved himself? Man this psychosis stuff was confusing the hell out of him.

Body shuddering as another cramping spasm gripped him Dean curled, pain shooting from his damaged ribs across his chest. He breathed as deeply as he dared whilst regarding the racoon closely. What he really wanted was to ask, to beg for was more water but he really didn't know if the water he'd drunk before was real. It had felt real, cool and wonderfully liquid and for a short while it had slaked his thirst but he couldn't be sure, couldn't rely on the fact that he'd actually drunk anything, that it wasn't all some big delusion his fevered brain had conjured up as some sick joke. If it was he wasn't laughing.

"Dean?"

Something, someone was by his side, how had he missed that?

"Dean."

Sammy? F**k his brain had gone into overdrive and given him his brother, hell maybe if he tried hard Megan Fox might appear.

"Dean, you okay? You look like s**t."

A hand brushed his brow, resting lightly, feeling the heat. It felt so good that he almost whimpered when it was withdrawn.

"You're burning up."

He heard rustling and a click but he wouldn't open his eyes. In his head Sammy was with him and he couldn't bear for it not to be true.

"Here drink this."

Something hard and plastic was pressed to his lips and then water drizzled across them running down his neck in cool lines. He parted the thin flaked strips of skin and the wet coolness streamed, invaded his tongue, banishing the dryness, pouring, filling his throat until he swallowed. He opened his mouth for more. It came trickling in but he wanted it faster. Raising his hands he gripped onto the arm in front of him in an attempt to force a river into his mouth.

"Hey, hey steady, come on Dean, you know better."

The bottle was gently but firmly removed despite his moan of protest and he sank back his rush of energy gone.

"Sammy?"

"I'm here."

There was silence while Dean wondered if he dared to open his eyes. What he didn't want was for the Sam next to him, the Sam with the calm voice and the gentle hands to be the racoon. He didn't want to force back his eyelids and see the smirking black banded eyes mocking him. No, he couldn't cope with that.

"Dean?"

Nope he wasn't going to...it could hum Metallica, sound like his brother, give him some more water but he wasn't going to talk.

Hands, paws, travelled around his body causing him to wince as they passed over his bruised torso, moving on to examine the rest of his frame before returning. His T-shirt was lifted slightly but his arms still held tight across his body impeded full exposure. Dean heard the merest suck of breath and a curse but before he could do anything, roll away from the touch or protest a flush of returning heat brought the nausea back with a vengeance. He barely had time to react before he was retching, folding over, the saving water gushing from his mouth and pooling on the floor next to him.

A sound came behind but Dean didn't care, he felt wretched and all in, the frigging racoon or whatever could take a hike.

A hand fisted in his shirt front, pulling him up whilst an arm slipped around his back supporting him, carefully he was leaned forward, bumped slightly and then eased back to rest on a broad chest. Startled at first he struggled weakly but he was held until he stopped, his brain registering or creating, he wasn't sure which, a familiar smell which surrounded him and although he would never admit it he knew the feel.

It was Sam.

Inwardly he sighed and slowly allowed himself to relax into the safe embrace of his brother's arms.

XXxxxxxxx

The dark came quickly as Sam leaned back against the rotting wooden wall, weighed back by the form of his brother. He should really examine Dean more thoroughly and at least strap up his ribs but for some reason he was reluctant to move. Gradually, although he fought against it, he slept ... until something roused him.

The sound came again, a soft grunting and a scuffling scrabble. He tensed but didn't open his eyes. It was obviously some kind of animal judging by the movement but he had no desire to come face to face with it hampered as he was by Dean's body lying across him. Maybe if he stayed still it would leave.

Sam schooled his breathing, listening to the animal as it ambled slowly across the floor towards them stopping occasionally, sniffing before moving on. Focusing his attention on the sounds Sam tried to visualise where in the room the creature was. He'd tracked it as far as the centre of the small enclosed space but then everything went quiet. He held his breath, waiting, straining to catch any little noise which might indicate where or what it was doing.

After several minutes of silence Sam peaked only opening his eyes enough to scan the room. He barely suppressed an involuntary start as the animal a large grey and white racoon reared up in front of him. It dropped thumping its front paws on the floor but keeping its head up tasting the air with its nostrils.

Racoon's were not the friendliest of creatures, Sam knew, they had the reputation of being bad-tempered and aggressive if cornered so keeping very still Sam watched as it came closer, lowering its head, pressing its nose to Dean's cheek. His brother stirred brushing at his face with his hand but remained asleep actually snuggling back into Sam's chest.

The racoon, unconcerned, continued to snuffle at Dean, routing around grunting occasionally until it found Sam's arm then it dragged its cold wet nose over the skin at the back of his hand and up his sleeve. The fur was rough and scratchy but under its chin where it was shorter the heat soaked into Sam's arm. It sniffed again pushing its head further nodding, straining the material.

Suddenly it sneezed shaking violently and covering Sam's forearm with mucus.

He couldn't stop his reaction, snatching his arm back extricating the racoon in one swift movement. If it hadn't been for Dean lying across him he would have risen to his feet as it was he felt trapped, he couldn't defend himself if the wild creature attacked without letting go of his brother.

"Shoo." It sounded weak and felt even weaker and the racoon just blinked. "Get out of here." Feeling somewhat foolish, Sam raised his voice gesturing with his free arm. Dean moaned protesting at the movement. "GET LOST." Sam tried again.

"Dude, not the Waltons again." His brother murmured restless with the disturbance but Sam ignored him intent on the racoon and its green, green eyes.

Puzzlement and an unsettling suspicion glimmered but before he could gather together the threads of his thoughts the animal snorted, turned about and headed out the door leaving the hut empty its sunless, airless interior filled with a musty wet-fur odour.

Sam stared after the animal for a long time until Dean drew his attention by retching, choking and shouting the odds against Bugs Bunny getting it on with Jessica Rabbit. He drew his backpack closer and fumbling found the fever reducers in a zip bag. It was gonna be hell of a long night.

XXXXxxxxxxx

"Man this bed's uncomfortable." Dean shifted something was sticking in the small of his back, something hard, unyielding and buckle shaped. He heard Sam huff a laugh and the constraint around his body released a little allowing him to ease forward. He felt weird, kind of here but not here and his head still ached, throbbing in rhythmic pulses from his temple. He was pleased to note that the nausea had abated somewhat but his mouth still felt like the inside of a yak's armpit.

"We need to ask for a refund." Dean rolled his eyes upward to stare up at Sam or his delusion that was Sam, he still wasn't sure and he wasn't about to rock the boat to find out because right now he needed a brother and his brother specifically.

"You upside down... or I am." He struggled to sit up further but collapsed back with a groan. Sam's arms tightened, probably a reflex action Dean thought, but he stilled throwing up his defences automatically.

"Are you hugging me?" Yeah the Sammy he knew was certainly girly enough to hug but if this Sam was an illusion coming from his unconscious mind then what was this? Was his psyche telling him that he needed more hugs or was there some deeper meaning to hugging that he'd failed to notice? Hell this was more complicated than the damned racoon.

"No." Sam's answer came back quietly.

"That's all right then." Dean smirked inwardly; he'd got the better of that exchange. He paused, well he thought so.

Squirming away from the body behind him, reluctant to settle back however much he wanted to or felt he shouldn't want to; sonofabitch stop with the psycho babble.

Frustrated with his own inability to think he shook his head trying to clear some of the cotton wool in his brain but only succeeded in making it ache furiously.

Scooting back until he leant on the wall to Sam's left he held himself still waiting out the paining pulsing beat which seemed to throb through his whole form. Breathing heavily he opened his eyes and adjusted his body but the hut seemed to tilt alarmingly as he did so and he regretted his decision even more as bands of pain tightened across his chest joining the cacophony in his head. He tried to change his position again to ease the stricture but only made matters worse, and he found himself panting shallowly wishing back the oblivion of his fevered dreams.

Sam's huge hand clamped to his brow. "You okay?"

"Dude." Dean protested he hated being made to feel like an invalid, it made him madder than hell but the solidity of the hand, the comforting warmth and the hard patch of skin on the index finger was so familiar that he half believed Sam was real.

"How you feeling?"

"Peachy."

Sam pursed his lips in a perfect imitation of Sam and patiently asked again. "How you feeling?" It irritated Dean deeply; yeah this Sammy was acting 'real' annoying and he snarked back.

"I feel like crap...you happy now?"

His brother ignored the comment and did not remove his hand from Dean's forehead as he continued to examine his patient with a martyred look that Dean knew so well. It made his heart hurt where was the real Sam now; crashing through the forest probably, looking for him was the answer.

Dean ignored him back in childish pique. If this Sam was a delusion then it didn't matter he was only ignoring himself.

The hand was removed; Sam obviously ignoring Dean's ignoring as he said evenly. "Your temperature seems to have gone down." Dean continued with his ignoring not really knowing how to break off without seeming to give in.

It was true he did feel like crap but not as bad as before. He heard Sam move and the close presence he'd felt subtly shifted. Mildly panicking he squinted, first checking that Sam was still beside him. His brother was busy with his pack and had his back to Dean.

Taking the opportunity to scrutinise the interior of the hut unobserved Dean checked; no racoon. Maybe he couldn't have two hallucinations at the same time? Maybe one cancelled out the other?

The absence of the racoon was both a concern and a relief, he felt lost without it and he realised that in a small way his delusion had brought him some measure of reassurance but why had it changed why was his psyche now producing Sam? Why ...he groaned it was too much; trying to unravel his brain.

"Dean, you okay?"

Goddamnit how was he supposed to explain, 'Oh by the way my psyche came to me as a racoon, brought water and we had a nice chat and now its brought me you to bug the hell out of me as if I didn't feel bad enough.

Confused beyond his ability to think in straight lines, Dean combed back through his memory for any details that would help him unravel his subconscious but everything was hazy. He remembered some parts of the previous twenty-four hours, the water and the talking thing but not much else. Somewhere in there were rabbits and Chuckie Cheese but beyond that he didn't recall much except the dreaded sickness and the acute throbbing of his ribs, hips and head; until Sam.

His breath hitched as he moved again trying to ease the pain but only succeeded in aggravating his injury. Experimentally he flexed the hip joint, bringing up his knee. It was definitely tender and he wouldn't be running any marathons in the near future but he reckoned he could walk out of the forest. If it hadn't been for the fact that he felt like sh**t he'd have been raring to go.

Glancing across at Sam he noticed that his brother was fussing with his backpack. God Sam could be so irritating. Suddenly everything dropped into a kind of place, he tensed leaning forward.

"Sam."

"Uhuh?"

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam had turned regarding him quizzically. "What?"

"It's really you isn't it?" Dean held the look searching the face in front of him; the hazel eyes weren't green, they weren't green! This was Sam, his real and totally wonderfully annoying brother.

"Who else would it be?"

"No one."

Sam extracted a full bottle of water and a bottle of pills from a pocket. Dean opened his mouth to tell his brother to shove it but a sharp stabbing pain panning across his forehead shut him up. He rubbed his temple.

"Dean, again, you okay? 'cause from here you..."

The pain increased turning from a blunt instrument to jagged knifing. "Sam, I'm fine." His voice croaked cutting off Sam's concern but when his brother offered the analgesia he accepted it, knocking back a double dose, making sure that Sam didn't see.

"You're welcome," his brother replied meaningfully to Dean's unspoken thanks as he repacked the pockets in the backpack.

"Dude you get off on it."

Dean turned away knowing he was being churlish and ungrateful but it had made him feel good, feel better, this was 'normal' him and Sam.

"Dean?" Sam was looking at him frowning. "You sure you're okay, you're grinning?"

"I'm good. Let's get this show on the road."

"Dean we don't have to ..." Concerned oozed from those eyes; hazel eyes.

"Sam did I ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes."

"What!" Sam practically choked.

Dean enjoyed his brother's embarrassed amazement for a few moments before deftly changing the subject.

"What the hell is that smell?"

"I think," Sam was startled out of his bewilderment, "that will be from the visitor we had last night – an honest to goodness racoon."