Chapter 5

Sam doesn't get his wish to get out of the hospital. Two days later he's still in bed and the doctors tell Dean that Sam developed a staph infection. He's being treated with antibiotics.

Dean follows the young doctor's explanations best he can, asks some questions that all basically amount to, "Will he be okay?"

The doctor is stone faced and direct. His brother is running a persistent fever. Some staphs are known as MRSA, and are resistant to antibiotics.

"But, he'll be okay, right?" Dean repeats.

"Let's give it some time."

And Dean is back to wanting to punch someone.

He's standing outside Sam's room when his cell phone vibrates in his pocket.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"How's Sam?"

Dean relays what he's just been told. The older man gives a humff and sighs. "Hospitals. Darn places always make you sicker than you started out."

"I know it," Dean replies.

"Got somethin' about what you told me."

Dean has alerted Bobby about Lucifer's threat to return him to Hell and the older man has started researching, looking for new signs.

"Yeah?"

"Lucifer's army's got lots of ranks – from grunts to higher-ups. Those demons closest to him … they're like nobility in our own royal courts … and each has their specialty."

"Azazel was one of 'em. Yellow-eyed bastard."

"Yep. Pretty high up, too. The one I'm thinkin' might be gunning for you is Kimaris."

"Say who?"

"He's a Marquis. A Warrior. Rides a black horse – probably be a black car by today's terms."

Dean nods to himself. "Why him?"

"Been some signs. And his specialty is locating lost or hidden treasures."

"And I'm the grand prize at the end of the scavenger hunt?"

"Somethin' like that. Only not just you."

Sam. "You say you picked up signs this dude's around?"

"Well, it's not like he's leaving a calling card at the local Hunter's Society Secret Lodge … but, yeah, maybe. I've got Tamara researching some. She's got some grimoires that are older than dirt. Came from her grandmother."

"Tamara and Isaac, Tamara?"

"Yep."

The woman is screaming, begging, fighting to stay with her husband, who is writhing on the ground, foaming acid from his mouth. They yank her away … too late for her husband …

Another casualty of helping the Winchester brothers. Dean feels the weight of each death like chains across his back. Why fight it? Hell is where he belongs.

"Dean, you're not gonna like what I have to say next."

There's a news flash. What has he liked lately? "Out with it Bobby."

"This thing is a good tracker. You can move around. You can hide. But eventually it's gonna find you. And if you're together with Sam, then it'll have you both."

Dean can't believe what he thinks he's hearing. "Bobby …"

"No, now hear me out boy. You gotta consider you and Sam splitting up, at least for a while."

He explodes, "Bobby … Sam's still not out of the fucking woods with what happened with the Baykok and you're tellin' me to leave him! Shouldn't have been on that damn hunt in the first place. Was foolish. I know Sam thinks anything we do that takes our eye off the ball is a waste of time. And I left Sam wide open—"

"You were helping Rufus, helping a friend. Man's had your back before."

Dean relents a bit. "I know … I didn't mean, it's just that Lucifer was able to get to Sam and then to me because we were vulnerable. And Bobby … whatever that SOB said to Sam … it's gotten to him … there are things he's not sayin'."

"Yeah, well, Sam not talking is nothing new. Sam ain't been Sam for some time now."

Dean's gut constricts. He'd looked for some good from this incident in the hopes that it would help him find his brother again. But Sam's back to keeping things. If Lucifer hadn't also mind fucked Dean, he'd never know that the Devil had spoken again with his brother. Suddenly it's a year ago and everything is about secrets. He isn't strong enough to go through this all over again.

Bobby hangs up saying that Dean has to at least think about this. Dean doesn't agree but thanks the older man because it's Bobby - who is in a wheelchair only because even possessed Bobby had skewered his own gut rather than kill Dean. He wishes he wasn't afraid of flying so that he and Sam could take off for Bobby's house immediately and never leave it again.

Dean walks into Sam's room and is stunned at what he sees. Sam is thrashing, hands under the thin blankets, centered near his … crotch … like he's protecting himself. Adrenaline pumps through Dean's veins like a pistol releasing racers from their mark and he bounds to Sam's bed. Dean wonders if Sam's dreaming about the Baykok … Sam had been naked … had the creature injured Sam … there? But he and Rufus had looked his brother over and had only seen … blood oozing out his middle, squirting in quick bursts … Even if they hadn't noticed any other injuries, surely the doctors …

"Sam, Sammy … wake up. C'mon, you're okay. You're safe."

He touches his brother's forehead and it's hot. But they're treating the infection, Dean shouldn't panic.

Glazed eyes suddenly open to meet his. "Hey there, Sammy," Dean says.

"Lucifer … "

Dean swallows. Is the bastard back in his brother's mind? He tries again. "Sam, it's me. You're okay. Wake up, man, please."

Sam's pupils are dilated in panic. He tries to raise his head but doesn't make it far. Fevered, moist eyes focus on Dean's face. "D'n, he saw me," Sam whimpers as his hand covers his privates again beneath the blanket. "Lucifer. No clothes. He wants me. 'S wrong … Oh God … And I can't … I didn't move …"

Dean doesn't understand what Sam is telling him. The words jumble and roll in his mind and he sees the distress contorting his brother's face and it's killing him that he didn't keep Sam safe. "Sammy," he says softly, taking his brother's hand in his. "It's okay. You're safe now."

Sam closes his eyes and after a long moment Dean realizes that he's fallen back asleep. The struggling has stopped and Sam's body relaxes. And then like a bolt of lightning, the pieces fall together and Dean recoils at the image that stabs his mind because his brother wasn't describing the kind of want that was about being Lucifer's vessel. They found his brother prone, naked … That vile, twisted, cockroach violated …

He races to the room's small bathroom, falls to his knees and promptly vomits up the egg sandwich he'd grabbed from the hospital's cafeteria that morning. Knowing that this monster molested his brother in his dreams is so excruciatingly hateful that bile continues to come up even when the contents of his stomach are gone.

A hand gently presses against his back and Dean jumps slightly. Castiel. He's cried in front of Sam and years ago before his father but never anyone else. Only he can't stop himself, can't stop the hurt, the fury, the pent up need to choke the thing, the creature that did this, is doing this … He's faced evil, has faced abominations his whole life but has never felt as helpless as he does right now.

Questions race through his mind and he knows that Cas may know the answers but he can't ask … is too ashamed, embarrassed, afraid to know.

"Dean," Cas says softly. "I know about the infection but Sam is strong. I believe he will be okay."

"I know," Dean says. He forces air into his lungs and rises to splash water on his face. "I'm just … tired." Dean sees himself in the mirror, ashen, dark circles under his eyes … beaten.

His friend looks at him, brows furrowing.

"You are concerned about Lucifer?"

Alarmed he stares back. "What are you mind reading again?"

Cas looks surprised. "No. It's just since you told me about Lucifer's threat … I thought …"

Breaking eye contact and looking down Dean asks, "Cas … in the dreams … sleeping, waking, whichever … how real is it? I mean, for me, I thought it all happened. Even when you woke me I still thought … Did it really happen to Sam?"

Cas studies him. He seems to be waiting. Dean remains silent. Finally Cas answers, "Lucifer cannot physically harm your brother … or you … from within a dream. But he is powerful, persuasive … he was the most stunning of my brothers. One would instantly weep upon seeing him because he was so beautiful. My Father's most perfect creation until pride brought him down. Now, he is twisted, he has forgotten how to love. The Lightbringer is bathed in darkness."

Sam had been crying. Was he shown the light or the darkness? And God help him because Dean isn't sure which would make Sam cry.

– – –

Whatever cocktail they put into Sam's IV drip finally does the trick because by the next day the doctor is decidedly smiling. The fever breaks and Sam doesn't bring up the Devil or anything else relating to his feverish confession. Dean manages to squeeze in a query about whether there had been any additional unconscious visitations and Sam says no and asks the question back with such immediate concern that Dean believes Sam is telling the truth.

He sits by his brother's bedside and fills him in best he can.

"A marquis?" Sam asks his face breaking out in a weak grin. "Bobby said this?"

Dean smirks. "I know … sounds like the name of a cocktail, or a stripper, right?"

Sam shakes his head but his expression quickly turns serious. "We gotta be careful. I know you hate hearing this … but we have to lay low."

"Sounds good to me. Can use a vacation about now. Can you drive to Bermuda?"

Sam eyes him doubtfully. Hesitates like he knows this isn't going to go over well. "Dean … if this thing's gonna track us, the thing to do would be to split up. Make it harder …"

Dammit. "No. Sam. No. I told Bobby the same thing. I'm tired of giving these dicks what they want."

"Bobby said we should split up?" Even though Sam just thought of the same thing the fact that Bobby has suggested it brings out the bitchface.

"He … mentioned it as one idea … but it's a bad idea. I told him no already so there's nothing to talk about."

Sam sits up tighter, eyes flashing. "So we're back to you calling all the shots, are we? 'Cause that always ends well, doesn't it?"

Dean looks stricken. Sam regrets his words immediately but something about Dean's distant stare makes him realize that his brother isn't thinking about the Baykok. Oh God. No, he hadn't meant …

"Jo insisted … I knew we should go alone, shoulda fought harder, then maybe they'd … "

Dean walks to the room's window, turning his back. Sam sees his brother's shoulders contract as he struggles for control.

"Dean. I'm sorry. I didn't mean Ellen and Jo. It was their decision. They wanted in, were tired of being pawns all their lives to evil … like we all are. Jo … she wanted to be where you—" Dean shudders. Sam wants to hit himself. Twist the knife deeper. God, couldn't he just shut his mouth?

Dean doesn't turn around but Sam knows what's happening. He doesn't remember seeing his brother cry when the Harvelles died. Thought Dean'd found a private place to grieve. Now Sam thinks maybe not.

"With Jo …you know I didn't … not like she did … but I might have."

Sam knows that Jo was in love with his brother. Heck a blind person could have seen it. He knows that Dean didn't love her back, not like that. But Sam didn't know that Dean thought he someday could have. This hurts. The loss feels fresh, it's happening all over again. But Sam doesn't know what to say, feels helpless as he lies in bed, hooked up to tubes while his brother stands hurting across the room. Like so many times before when his brother bared his heart, Sam has nothing to say.

– – –

"Kimaris. Are you sure? This is bad."

Just once Dean wishes someone would tell him something he didn't already know.

"Cas. We're past that page already. Tell us something we can use. How we avoid him for one. Even better. How do we kill the son of a bitch?"

"The Colt will work."

Dean stares at Castiel with disgust. "Like it worked so well on his boss."

"This is different. Kimaris is not Lucifer. He's not even as high as Azazel who you did kill with the Colt. It will work."

Finally. One good thing. Well, he had the weapon and enough bullets. If it found them, he'd be ready.

He remembers what Cas said. "Why is it bad?"

"In addition to being an amazing tracker this demon has certain other powers."

Feeling impatient at dragging out the explanation Dean barks, "Such as?"

"Time manipulation."