THEN THERE WAS LIGHT

CHAPTER 11

Dean found it harder and harder to deal with the lack of sleep. He first was delirious, then irritable, then right down angry. His head was pounding, his emotions running wild, he was vomiting, had a fever, the sweat that coated him made him more uncomfortable. He didn't want to think, but that's all he could seem to do. His body ached from the constant trembling and fidgeting.

He would get up, having to pace the room, to release energy, but then would feel dizzy and fall to the floor in a whirlwind of panic. Nothing he tried seemed to help. He even tried to talk to Sammy. To tell him what little he could about the memories flooding his mind, or the feelings he was having, but, with the less sleep he got, the more intertwined it all became.

Dean, found himself, huddled in the corner of the room. Tears streaming down his face, his body shaking, he was laying in a ball with his knees pulled to his chest, fear written all over his face, panic in his eyes.

Sam had just stepped out to get some more food, and a breath of fresh air. He was only gone about 10 minutes and was shocked to find Dean huddled in the corner when he returned.

"Hey, Dean, hey, you okay?"

Sam tried to keep his voice calming, but he hadn't got much sleep either and was starting to feel the effects in his emotions too. He knelt down beside Dean, trying to calm whatever fear he was having.

Dean looked up at him with pain filled eyes, and a desperation in his voice when he spoke. "I just want to die."

"Yeah, well, that's not happening." Sam reassured him. "You can do this, man, you're stronger than this. You, of all the people I've ever met, have the strength and ability to fight this. You're almost done, it's been 4 days already, I'm sure you won't have much longer to go. You just gotta hang in there, okay?"

Dean didn't reply, he just laid there shaking. Sam left him be. There was no point in moving him, he would move himself soon enough. Dean couldn't sit still for longer than a few minutes, no matter what his body was feeling. He was filled with so much restlessness, it was practically impossible for Dean to stay still.

Just like Sam had predicted, Dean was on his feet and pacing the floors again. He would mumble to himself. Sam was sure he was fighting against his own mind, reminding himself it wasn't real, or at least it wasn't real at that moment, that it was just memories and nothing was going to hurt him. A few times, Sam heard Dean yelling at himself, calling himself stupid, like he should know the stuff in his head was nothing to fear, but his mind couldn't wrap itself around it.

Dean's anger had gotten the best of him, he had punched a few holes in the walls, shattered the mirror, threw the tv on the floor, knocked over the table and chairs. Of course, Sam would go behind him, cleaning everything up, making sure all the glass and sharp objects he broke were picked up and not of danger to either of them. All the weapons had been safely put away.

Sam wished there was more he could do, but Dean would push him away any time he tried. So, at this point, all he could do was watch his brother fall to pieces. He figured it wouldn't take him long to wear down, and not be able to fight against Sam's help, but for now, that was not the case.

"Damn it Sam!" Dean shouted. "Why the hell did you do this to me? Why couldn't you just let me go? Any normal person would have let me fall asleep and not wake up, anyone one but you!"

"You'll thank me later." Sam said in an even, calm voice.

"Doubt it!" Dean said as he punched his fist against the wall, then rubbed his hand down his tired face. "I just want to sleep!" Dean's voice was whiney. He was going through so many different emotions at the same time, he honestly didn't know how to respond to anything. He didn't know what tone of voice to use, or how he was supposed to act, so he just let his primal instinct take over.

He paced the floors again, his hands pressed to the sides of his head, trying to keep the pressure at a tolerable level. It continued to grow with each second, like all the memories flooding in were all piling into his head, leaving less and less space for what belonged in there. It was like they were crowding in, pushing their way into his head, with no regard for his discomfort.

Dean, finally, collapsed onto his knees on the floor, between the two beds. He held his head, trying to keep everything from exploding. "Please, tell me it's almost over, Sammy, please!"

"I don't know, Dean. I don't want to lie to you, but Wild Horse said he's seen it last as long as week, and you're in day 5 now, so maybe, 2 more days? If you're lucky?"

"If I'm lucky? What the hell man! If I'm lucky this shit would stop right now!"

"Yeah, that too."

"Yeah, that too." Dean repeated in a mocking voice, not happy with Sam's reply.

He sat on his knees, folding his back so his head was touching his knees, his hands still pressed against his head, but have moved so they were covering his ears as well. He sat like that for a few minutes before speaking. "I need a break, I just need a break. I… I can't do this anymore. I need it to stop, I need a break."

He had lifted his head to look at Sam, his pleading in his eyes matched the sound of begging in his voice. Sam's heart broke. He didn't know what to do. Wild Horse had said this would be the fight of his life, and would be hard, for the both of them, and he was not wrong!

Sam knelt on the floor in front of Dean, taking his head into his hands. "I know you do, but you're doing good, you hear me? You're doing a damn good job! Every day, is a day closer to this being over." He wiped the tears running down Dean's cheeks with his thumbs. "You got this, and I'm right here. I don't know what to do, you gotta tell me what you need, but I'm here, you're not alone, okay?"

Dean lost it, he just broke down, letting the tears fall and his cries go unchecked. He grasped his brother and held onto him, Sam returned the embrace and held his brother in his arms, comforting him as much as he could.

Over the next couple of days, Dean's fever would spike as high as 106 and then would drop all the way to normal. Sam knew that couldn't be good on Dean's body, but then again, neither could the lack of sleep. When his fever was up, he would just lay in bed, moaning and groaning in both, physical and mental, pain. He felt miserable. He just wanted it all to end, he wanted to feel normal again.

When his temperature was normal, he was a jumbled up mess. He would go from being full of rage and anger, to a heaping, crying mess on the floor. He paced the floors until he wore a pathway in the dingy carpet. The nausea and vomiting seemed to come out of nowhere, with no warning. Sometimes he was lucky enough to make it to the bathroom or a trash can, but sometimes he would end up wearing it, and showering the carpet with it. Sam noticed, as day 7 approached, Dean's vomit started looking more normal. He secretly laughed to himself that it was the light coming up now.

Sam took the opportunity, when Dean's fever was high, to catch some sleep. He knew Dean would do nothing but lay there in misery, and there wasn't much he could do about that but make sure he had meds and a drink.

Day 7 came and went, with much disappointment from Sam. Dean had no clue what day it was, but Sam had hoped this day would mark the end of Dean's misery. Day 8 had started and seemed to be the worst yet. Dean's fever read 108, that was way past the point of causing brain damage and febrile seizures. Sam wasn't sure if his body shakes were from a seizure, cold chills, or just the memories floating in his head. Dean was close to being unresponsive, the only thing keeping him conscious was the fact he couldn't fall asleep.

Dean couldn't seem to get out of bed, but also expressed a lot of pinned up energy that he wasn't able to release, just adding to his frustration and misery. He laid, at some points, just screaming in pain and discomfort. Other times, he would cry so hard he would find it hard to breathe.

Sam took his temperature again, it read 109. Sam was getting scared. That was way too high, and none of the medications seemed to be helping. He picked his brother up and laid him in a tub of cold water, wiping his body down with a cool rag.

"You gotta hang in there, you hear me? You got this, you just gotta hang in there." Sam reassured him as he tried to cool him down. He waited 20 minutes, then pulled Dean out of the tub, removing his clothes, drying him off, and putting back on a clean pair of boxers. He figured with his temperature he sure didn't need any clothes on.

He carried him back to the bed, forcing some cold liquids and more medicine down Dean, and laid his head back on the pillow. Dean's eyes showed the evidence of what was going on in his head, his facial expressions would periodically change with the look in his eyes, but the rest of his body remained still, lifeless. He didn't speak, the only noise that came from him were slight whimpers and cries of pain.

Around 30 minutes after cooling Dean in the tub and forcing more liquids and meds into him, Sam took his temperature again. He was pleased to see that it had dropped to 106.5. That was better. Still dangerously high, but anything less than what it was, was an accomplishment. He sat on the edge of Dean's bed, wiping his hair from his forehead, using a wet, cool cloth to keep his head, face, and arms cool, hoping it would bring down his fever more.

As the day wore on, it seemed to be the longest day of Sam's life. He was so scared for his brother. His brother who showed little signs of life. As night approached, he took his temperature for what seemed like the 100th time, and found it to be a low temp of 90.4. He could deal with that. That was almost normal, and he figured in a short time it would be normal again. Dean still didn't show any improvement with his activity or signs of life, even with the fever back down.

Sam started to wonder if it had caused him brain damage, but looking into Dean's eyes, seeing everything that was happening in his head through his eyes, ruled that thought out. He supposed everything had just become too overwhelming for his body to be able to handle.

"You're doing good. You got this. I'm right here with you, you're not alone. Just keep fighting."

Sam repeated over and over through the day, trying to comfort his brother and reassure him.

Sam had noticed, Dean's breathing had calmed and evened out. The look in his eyes started to calm as well. His facial expressions went blank. For a moment, he recognized Sam. He took a couple blinks, staring at him, completely emotionless, and motionless. Then, his eyes drifted closed.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't reply. His body had gone limp, his heart beat had returned to normal as well as his breathing. His eyes were closed. For the first time in 8 days, they were finally closed. Dean appeared to be… sleeping?

Wild Horse had said once it ran its course, Dean would fall asleep. It would take as long as it needed, but in the end, he would sleep. And, this sleep would be safe.

With that knowledge, and the fact he was sure Dean was actually asleep, he laid beside his brother, wiping the sweat from his brow one last time. And Sam laid his head on his pillows, placing an arm over Dean's chest, making sure he could feel his brother breathing, and closed his eyes. It only took a moment before the need for sleep overcame the need to protect his brother, and both brothers slept.