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A/N1: I wrote this before last week's episode (Fanfiction) came out, it was awesome, but then it felt like now what I wrote seemed to in line with the episode. On the other hand, I guess many of the topics in the episode were things most people mention often, so I guess I am just not that original.

A/N2: I have no knowledge of medicine, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes they are straight from my twisted brain that wants to torture Sam more.

Chapter V:

By the time they got to the bedroom Dean and Sam were panting with exhaustion. Charlie ran ahead of them to clear the path, accommodate the pillows, open the bed and any other task that needed to be accomplished.

"Uff! How does someone that lives of salads can be so damn heavy?" Dean teased easing him into the bed. He carefully lay him down, sinking him into the pillows and leaned down towards Sam's feet.

"I can take my damn shoes off!" He snapped, taking his frustration with his own impotence on his brother, but the older Winchester, maybe understanding where he was coming from, acquiesced. Sam chose to just push the shoes off with his feet, scared of what trying to get back vertical would do to his headache and nausea.

Then he huffed and sat up against the pillows, just to show his brother he could. Just to let him know he was the one in charge of his own body, not Dean. The older man rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Charlie smiled at the interaction and placed herself at the feet of Sam's bed; though her tense body was in alert, ready to run to help if needed.

"You don't have to do it, Charlie," Sam continued the argument they had been having at the library with his eyes closed. "You do understand that this could hurt you and we might not be able to achieve anything! We don't know if the spell would even work and even if it does Gadreel might not know anything. He might not be able to help us in any way."

Charlie's voice was farther and closer than it should at the same time. "Sam, yes, I know, you said it like a million times since I got here. But Castiel said the risk for me is minimal and even it doesn't help you, we'll still have Gadreel, he'll get to pay for what he did to the kid, to Kevin. He sounded like a cool guy."

"You would have loved him. All geeky and stuff." Dean voice didn't help at all.

Sam's arm covered his face as he sighed. "Charlie, please, don't let Dean fool you into this."

His feet got moved right and the bed sank where his feet had just been. "How am I fooling her?" Dean's angry voice came through. "Was anything I said not true?"

Sam knew his brother all too well. He always had a way of convincing people everything was black or white, life or death and that you wanted to be on team Dean or else. He moved his arm away from his face and glared. "Dean, you are risking her health for something that could be nothing!"

"Oh, so when it comes to risking your" he stressed the word 'your' and pointing at him with two fingers. "health, then it's fine, right? Let's go kill Sammy. But if it's someone elses then it's too risky? Are you saying that somehow you can do it but she can't, when you are obviously in much worse shape than she is?"

Charlie scowled. "I am not a damsel in distress that needs to be saved, Sam."

Crap, bring the 'protect the weak one' to the mix and he was doomed, Charlie was never going to back away now. Sam ran his hand through his face in frustration and huffed, his head lifting an inch from the pillow with the motion.

"It's decided." He heard her voice from the other end of a long, really long tunnel. The overwhelming dizziness made impossible for him to keep his eyes open and he realized he was incapable of regaining the air he had let go. "you… do… with... or without … your choice… don't… do thi… and will..." Charlie's was ranting but he couldn't make sense of what she was saying. He sank into the pillows as much as he could and struggled to get some air into his lungs.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded over Charlie's and almost on his face. A hand seized his wrist but he pulled off. His brother groaned and clutched his arm one more time. Sam tried to pull back but the other man was a lot stronger than he remembered him being, or maybe Sam was a lot weaker. "Breathe Sam."

What the hell did his brother think he was trying to do? Not breath? On purpose? He was trying to get some air in his lungs, it was just not working very well!

The forceful hand moved to his forehead, pushing him even further against the pillows and leaving him unable to defend himself.

"We need to lower your heart rate and your fever ASAP!" Dean continued. At least he was hearing complete coherent sentences, that was an improvement. "Charlie, can you go to the kitchen and get some ice cold water and some washcloths or towels?" He heard steps ran out of the room and opened his eyes to see Dean arched his back and leaned forward. He rested his hands on his leg and aligned his face in the center of his line of vision. "Sammy, I know you hate my guts right now. But we have to work together ok?"

Sam just closed his eyes.

Dean didn't move, "Look at me, Sam. " He ordered but he didn't relent. "Sammy, I always have your back, you know that, right? No matter how much of a pain in the ass I am, your safety always comes first, always."

Sam kept his eyes closed but his mouth pulled into a straight line. His voice got deeper as he tried to imitate their father. "Take care of your little brother, boy."

"Yes." Dean acknowledged.

He was thankful that some air seemed to be getting to his lungs. He focused on relaxing. "That fucked up line."

"I know, destroyed my sense of self and made your waking nightmares. Heard it before. But you have to let me help you get better man. You can psychoanalyze the fuckness of my acts once your heart stop threatening with running away on its own and your fever lets you see straight enough for you to quote Freud on me, ok?"

"It's not like that! I appreciate everything you always did for me, everything you gave up for me but..."

"Then it's settled..." Dean interrupted, he could hear his self-satisfied smile.

"Dean," Sam wasn't below begging.

"It's not my fault that you are feeling like this Sammy, so don't take your anger on your weakness against me, I am just trying to help here. Now, breathe, slow-ly, in…. out, slow-ly sam, very, very slow, in… keep your air in, Sammy, good boy..."

He could feel his heart slowing down by the time Charlie got back. Dean had coaxed him into almost lying down and was walking him through several breathing exercises and massaging his carotid.

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He thought he was feeling crappy before, but now he had to add frozen to his ailments as his brother and the redhead determined that hypothermia was an ok treatment for his fever and tachycardia.

"Hi, Cas." He smiled through chattering teeth at the figure that had just materialized several feet behind the other two who were still covering him in icy towels.

Cas returned the smile. "Hi Sam, how are you feeling?"

His brother did a 360 and interrupted before he could answer. He didn't mind it, he wouldn't have known what to say any way. He didn't want to lie and he definitely didn't want tell the truth.

Dean walked a few steps towards the angel pointing an accusing finger. "Where the hell did you go?"

Cas took a couple of steps towards Sam. Eyes squinting, focused only on the boy on the bed and ignoring his angry brother. "Charlie made a valid point that it could be useful if Sam was being helped by someone with knowledge of human medicine."

Dean stopped where he was, raising one palm up in question. "So what? You went to the get-your-medical-degree-in-two-minutes school?"

Cas was almost at Sam's side now. "I am a celestial being Dean. I have ways of gaining human knowledge quite fast when I know what is it that I want to learn."

"Meaning?" Dean continued questioning him.

Charlie moved out of the away, allowing the angel to stand right beside Sam. Cas turned his face to meet Dean's. "Meaning, I got a doctor to accept to be my vessel for a few minutes so I could absorb his knowledge of medicine."

Dean opened his eyes wide and pursed his lips, taken aback by the news. "So, what, you are a doctor now?

Cas inclined his head and lifted his eyebrows, not quite rolling his eyes, but almost. "No, you need a degree from a certified university and several other formalities to become a medical professional. I do posses the knowledge of one, though. So, if everyone is ok with that, I would like to examine Sam to see if there is anything we can do for him from a medical point of view."

Charlie took one more step backwards and raised her hands, shrugging. Dean didn't answer but Cas didn't wait either, he kneeled beside Sam and removing the icy towels he placed a glowing hand an inch away from Sam stomach. "It's going to be like last time," his voice was calm and soothing. "I need you to close your eyes and relax as much as possible while I examine you. Is that ok?"

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in and breathing out. The octopus inside his organs felt foreign and uncomfortable, more painful that it had last time, but Sam reasoned that everything felt more painful than it had a few hours back. The room was silent and it made Sam uneasy, as if everybody was on the verge waiting for the results.

He focused again on breathing in and out, in and out, it smelled like old things and cleaning supplies. He liked the smell of the old, it made him think of books and permanence. Nothing in his life was permanent, nothing except Dean. He had never lived in any place longer than a couple of months. His friends, when he had not lost them because of the constant moves, tended to die. His parents had left him, his mother when he was a baby, his father constantly until he died. Nothing was permanent except the books and Dean. And now, in the midst of this chaos, he suddenly wished he had hang the "Hang in there Kitty" poster and made his room his, somewhere comforting, something he could dream that could be permanent.

He felt Cas tap his shoulder twice in a reassuring gesture. "Ok, we are done, thanks Sam."

He opened his eyes. "Thank you, so, what's the prognosis?"

Cas took a really deep breath and then sighed. "Well." He bobbed his head. "The good news is that there are a few things that we can do medically to help you heal and palliate your pain."

Dean was somehow right beside Sam, even when he hadn't seen him move. He talked to Cas, but his eyes were scrutinizing him. "How come he is so much worse than the last time you heal him?"

Cas mouth was pulled into a tight line. "Probably trying to extract the grace was detrimental to his health."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with a grimace and shook his head. "So what's wrong with him?"

Cas placed an awkward hand on the youngest Winchester's shoulder and spoke looking at him. "Sam, several of your internal organs are severely burnt and damaged, the lesions on your brain from when Crowley extracted information from Gadreel have not healed properly, you are dehydrated, you are terribly anemic, and those are just some of the things that are wrong with you. I think a blood transfusion would make you feel stronger..."

Dean interrupted patting the crook of his elbow. "Well, let's get at it then, we have the same blood type."

Cas spared a glance for the older brother. "I think it's best if I zap, as you like to call it, to a hospital and bring us all the necessary supplies. There are also several medications that would help with his condition as well as ease the pain. Oxygen and several other supplies might also become helpful at some point. Wait for a minute, Sam. I promise I'll make you feel better."

"Thanks Cas," Sam told the air where Cas used to be.

Dean took a soaked washcloth from inside the bowl that was on the night table. "You are going to be ok, Sammy." He promised, covering his forehead and eyes with the fabric.

Two minutes later, Cas reappeared, a hospital trailing beside him; bags of saline and blood, two Iv poles, cannulas and tubes, vial after vial of medicine, a pile of syringes and hypodermic needles, an oxygen tank, and a crash cart were part of the ensemble. Sam looked at the supplies with a terrified face, surely Cas had been overly cautious, all that couldn't be for him.

Dean moved fast, too fast, one second he was beside Sam, the next beside Cas. Or maybe it was just Sam's fever distorting his perception. "How can I help?" His brothers voice was hoarse as if he hadn't talk in like forever, parts of the words were cutting off. Sam felt sorry for him, he knew in Dean's mind he was the sole responsible for taking care of his baby brother and delegating that task was harder than killing a knight of hell.

Charlie also moved unrealistically fast and took Sam's hand with both of his. She didn't look at him, her eyes were focused on the medical supplies, but her hands squeezed his.

Cas grabbed a vial and tapped it twice. "You can prepare the Ivs, one pole on each side of the bed." He opened one of the syringe bags, placing the needle in the syringe and then stabbing the lid of the vial. "One should have blood, the other saline with this." He offered Dean a large vial from the table. Dean nodded and set to work without a word. Cas held a bottle of alcohol and dipped a cotton ball on it before walking towards Sam.

"This will help you relax and slow your heart rate," He showed him the needle in his hand. "It's just a mild sedative to help you rest and be more comfortable, ok?"

Sam nodded and Cas gently grabbed his arm, rubbing the cotton ball against his skin and then pricking him with the needle, he slowly eased the content of the syringe inside of him. The cold liquid ran through his veins, freezing and burning at the same time.

Cas inspected him for a couple of seconds with a small smile. He removed the icy towels around him -Charlie was behind him in a second to take them away-. Then he stretched his hand and touched him, a second later his wet T-shirt and bed sheets were dry. He continued offering him a caring smile, squeezed his hand and descended his thumb to his wrist. Placing his finger on his pulse, he lifted Sam's arm a little and looked down, concentrating on counting. Sam guessed angels could feel time differently than humans and didn't need watches.

His eyes drooped, closing by their own accord, he blinked a couple of times. His heart had stopped his exhausting drumming and things felt quiet and heavy.

"Are you feeling better?" Cas voice startled him.

Sam forced his eyes to focus on him and nodded. 'Heaviness feels good,' he thought, 'lot less painful than being light.'

Cas face looked up, giving someone a meaningful look. He trailed the stare and found Dean nodding in understanding. He tried to follow the silent conversation but was at total lost. He didn't realize his eyes were closed until Cas put his hand back down on the bed and squeezed his hand. He forced them open.

"Now, I'll open two IV lines, one on each arm." He continued explaining, asking for his approval and permission. "It's not very customary, but it will be faster and more effective this way. One IV will be for the blood transfusion, we will close it right after we are done. The other one will have saline and some medicine. I will also inject an antipyretic to reduce your fever in the line. We'll keep that line open to inject any other medicine we think might help. Do you understand, Sam?"

Sam hated being the center of this type of attention and feeling he had no control over the situation, but Cas was helping by explaining and asking for permission each step of the way. On the other hand, he did feel worse than he had felt in a long time and could use some relief. All the tension slowly melting as the sedative did it's job made him more compliant. After all, Cas had gone quite a long way to help him, the least he could do was let him. He nodded -his eyes closing again- and exposed his arms, palms facing up.

Again, time passed in a funny way, the cold cotton ball in the crook of his elbow happened too fast, he didn't even realized Cas had moved. The needle took a lot longer, Cas tapped his vein with two fingers a few times and then looked at him, probably trying to gauge his reaction, as he inserted the hypodermic. He twisted and took a strip of tape Dean was offering him, tapping it to the IV that contained the blood. It occurred to him that he was missing parts of the actions and wondered if his eyes were blinking more than he was aware.

Dean smiled at him, kneeling beside him as Cas walked around him to the other side. "One down, one to go. You'll feel better now, Sammy."

Sam nodded and he fell the cold of the alcohol on the other hand. He instinctively turned to look. Dean put a hand on his cheek and gently moved his face. "Don't, look at me Sam. You feeling sleepy?" Dean's voice was ever so gentle.

Sam realized he was. 'The sedative must be working'. He nodded as he felt the prick of the other needle. "Close your eyes, Sammy." His brother whispered with the cadence of a lullaby.

He couldn't help himself from following his brother's instruction. "What about Gadreel?" He yawned.

"He can wait. Get some rest, Sam. I am right here." Again, that voice that had put him to sleep so many nights when he was a kid. That had soothed his nightmares, that had comforted all his aches and illnesses.

"Don't do it without me," he mumbled.

"We won't. I promise! We'll wait till you are better, so you can kick his ass, ok?" Dean continued in the same tone. No matter what he said, it sounded like 'Hey jude' to him.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Sammy, go to sleep."

Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-Dean-

Dean looked around. He was sitting on the chair beside Sam's bed holding his hand. He was glad Cas had gone for the veins in the crook of the elbow for the IVs. He would never admit it, but he needed to be able to hold Sam's hand, do something, anything to feel like he was helping his brother. Cas and Charlie had moved to the library to get everything ready to summon Gadreel and he had stayed behind to take care of Sammy.

"Pff Sammy, this is as sterile as a hospital room. And I really don't mean it as a compliment." His head moved around inspecting the room. Aside from the dust, Sam hadn't move one thing from how the men of letters had left it fifty years ago. Yeah, he had brought a TV, a Dvd, his computer and his duffel bags. 'Way to personalize, Sammy'

"Ok," He patted his lap loudly, "executive decision here." He stood up. "We can't have you lying sick in a room that has less Sam than the last motel room we visited." He walked towards the desk in Sam's room and looked for their Dad's diary. "You told me I could redecorate."

He opened the diary and searched for the family picture in front of the old house. "Hi mom, Hi Dad. Miss you. Help me take care of Sammy, will ya'?" He spoke to the picture as he walked back to his brother's bed and placed the picture on the night table. His eyes lingered. "I know you guys probably want him up there with you, but...I...Just help me here, ok?"

He turned around and walked to the closet. "Ok Sam, what other treasures do you have?" He spotted the bag where he knew Sam kept his most personal belongings. He never knew what they were, but he knew they were there. The bag had been at Bobby's along with a bag where Dean's kept his own personal treasures and he had brought them here once they found the bunker and moved in. He had put everything on display as soon as it arrived, Sam's was still in a corner in his closet.

He took the bag out of the closet and kneeled beside it. His mind was flooded with images of Sam's heaven, of a heaven without him. He took a deep breath to get ready and unzipped the bag, pulling it open. He ran a hand through his mouth as he opened it and pinched the edges of his lip in a nervous movement. Whatever it was -even if it was everything that represented being away from his family- Sam had the right to display in his room. On top of everything was a stack of pictures, he took them out and inspected them. There were pictures of Sam with him, with their parents, with Bobby, Pastor Jim, pictures of Jessica and Amelia and everybody that had ever been important to his brother. There were even pictures of Garth and Charlie. He selected a few to display in the room.

Beneath the pictures was a carefully folded set of papers yellowed by age. The creases were broken and taped showing that someone, Sam, had opened it and closed many times. Dean couldn't help his curiosity and opened it. The first page had a childish drawing of two figures holding hands, one much taller than the other, beneath them a kid had wrote "Dean and Sam". The drawing didn't ring any bells, but had probably been drawn by Sam when he was very young.

He moved to the page below it and realized that it wasn't Sam's drawing, but his. He just didn't remember ever drawing it or writing the essay that it came with. It was a school paper, entitled "My favorite person in the whole world" and was written in the same child's calligraphy. "My favorite person in the whole world is my broder Sam. Sam is my best friend. Dad says I need to take care off Sammy and I do, becase Sammy is the best. He plays with me and always smiles. I am the lukiest broder in the world." Dean felt his esophagus tie in a knot and swallowed hard. Would Sam get pissed if he framed it and put it in his room? He probably would.

Below the essay was a stack of letters and printed emails tied with a ribbon. Sam had letters from their Dad, from Jessica, from people that had taken care of them when they were kids, friends Sam had had throughout the years, and a lot of people that Dean didn't know or remember. They were chronologically arranged and span all the way from 1988 till the week before -one from a friend that somehow Sam had managed to keep since his childhood-. He didn't read the letters, they were personal.

There were also a bunch of stupid academic awards that Sam had always been so proud of. He took them out for display. Sam's Stanford diploma in black tube, he decided it should also go on the wall, he was going to need something to frame it though. A few gifts Dean and their Dad had given him throughout the years: from the best brother mug Dean had bought him for his tenth birthday to the first knife his father had bought him. He took most of those things out to fill some of the shelves in the room.

At last, he opened what he believed to be their mother's jewelry box, inside it he recognize a necklace that belonged to their mother, a ring in a box that he was certain would have belong to Jessica if she had lived long enough, locks of hairs, rings, cheap necklaces and memorabilia that probably belonged to several of Sam ex-girlfriends. Dean was an expert in bad breakups but somehow every girl wanted to remain friends with Sam after he broke up with them and give him something to remember her by. Below it all, almost hidden, something caught his eyes and his heart started racing. There, unmistakably, was the amulet that Sam had given him so many christmases ago and he had regretted so many times throwing it away in that dead beat motel. He tried it on, it felt right.

He closed the duffle bag and put it back where it was. Leaving all the things he had selected to decorate the room on the floor, he walked to Sam. He carefully placed the necklace around his neck.

"You can borrow it, Sammy. I just need it back when you are better, ok?"

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Sam woke up to his insides burning. The fire imploding in his body was so bad that he thought himself back in the cage.

"NO!" He screamed to an invisible Lucifer, everything was black and he wondered if the devil had burned his eyes again. But he knew how being blind felt and this wasn't it. His eyes were still there, he tried opening them but he couldn't. It wasn't pass the angel to give him bodily feelings but to give him selective movement of which parts of his body he could access. Nothing more torturous than being trapped inside an unresponsive body while you are burning inside out. "Stop it! Michael, Adam, do something." He croaked, they rarely helped, but who else could he cry for? He always protected Adam when they tried to torture him, but he was his big brother, that's what big brothers do, that's what Dean had always done and now it was his turn to do it with Adam. Adam seldomly came to his rescue though. He couldn't blame him, it was his fault that Adam had got stuck in the worst of all imaginable hells. Besides, there was not much that Adam could do. Sam could distract Lucifer or Michael into torturing him instead of his baby brother. But they weren't as interested in changing targets once they were on Sam.

"Fuck!" He heard Dean's angry voice from far, far away. They loved taunting him with an angry Dean. Someone rubbed something cool on his forehead and he was surprised to realized it didn't hurt. Dean's voice came back, this time, he just sounded concerned. "You think you are still in the cage? Shh… little brother, you are ok now." The coolnees spread to his cheeks and chin, now the voice was just sad. "Why wouldn't you? I still have nightmares about hell, those things are not easy to forget, huh? It's ok Sammy, it's all ok. I am here now. They are gone, Lucifer, Michael, Adam, they are all gone. It's just you and me now, Sammy. Just you and me."

The air burnt on his way to his lungs and something was prickling his nose. He tried his arms, they were working, heavy as a bulldozer, but he had some movement. He went for his nose but something stopped him when he was almost there.

"No, Sammy, leave it." Dean's voice came again.

"Burns." He explained, maybe his older brother would help him. He tried again to aim for his nose but again he was stopped.

"It's just oxygen. It's helping you breathe. Just leave it there."

Things were slowly coming back to him. He wasn't in the cage. The smell was not right. He remembered now. The trials, Gadreel, Dean. "Oxygen burns Dean." He tried one more time to remove it, this time Dean grabbed his hand into his and move it to lay on his side. He kept holding his hand, drawing slow, comforting circled with his thumb.

He heard a sad chuckle. "Your lungs are burning, Sammy, the oxygen is just helping you breathe. Just leave it there, please."

He finally managed to open his eyes, Dean was fuzzy but unmistakable. It wasn't hell, thank god. "What time is it?"

Dean gave him a sad, loving smile as he placed the wet washcloth in his free hand on a bowl that was on top of his night stand. "Not time to wake up yet. Go back to sleep, Sammy. I've got you."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to do what his brother was asking him.

"It hurts." He croaked a few minutes later. He wanted to be more specific, a little more insightful but he was tired and weak and that pretty much summarized it, everything hurt, everything was hard.

Dean squeezed his hand and was silent for a minute. "Ok, lets turn you a little bit to your side, careful with the Ivs."

He now felt the prickle of the needles in his arms. Dean released his hand and placed a hand his shoulder and one on the top of his back, gently pushing and propelling him until his back was facing his brother. He winced to the nausea overwhelming him even with the slight movement. Behind him, he heard a plastic wrapper being opened and the two small taps then silence for a few seconds. He wondered what Dean was doing as he heard the sound of liquid being shaken. Suddenly he felt cold and realized that Dean was removing his covers.

"This will pinch a little, but it will be faster this way." Dean slightly pulled the elastic on his waistband down leaving the upper part of his buttock exposed. He felt something cold rub on the top of his gluteus and then a small prick. Dean covered him again and roll him so he was lying on his back again. "You'll feel better in a second. Cas got you the good meds." Sam opened his eyes, Dean was grinning at him, he smiled back. "You need to tell me about Adam some time."

Sam nodded. "I am too tired now though." The meds were already starting to work.

"Sleep Sammy."

"I'll be ok, Dean, don't worry about me."

"Of course you will be, bro. Just rest, ok."

"Stay."

"I am right here with you, Sammy, always."