Chapter 2

Sam stammered into another crappy motel room with Dean holding him by the shoulders to steady him. Dean kicked the door closed behind them, and then plopped Sam down on his bed. Sam dropped with a loud groan.

He was feeling lightheaded, and dizzy. He wished the room would stop spinning. Every part of his body ached, it felt like when you use a certain muscle for too long, and then you get that burn. Picture that, all over your body.

He just wanted to lie down and sleep for a year, but Dean propped him up against the headboard. "Don't sleep yet," Dean ordered shakily. "I gotta clean your arms."

Sam started to stare off into space with a glazed look in his eyes. Dean knew Sam wasn't with him at the moment.

Dean rushed to the bathroom, and grabbed the first-aid kit, and then rushed back to his bothers' side. He analyzed the wound on his brothers' arm and sighed with relief. At least it didn't need stitches.

He pulled out a washcloth, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He poured a bit of the peroxide on the cloth, and then began to wipe Sam's arms clean.

When he got to the wound he whispered, "Sorry Sammy." And then proceeded to clean that as well. That burning got Sam to come back to his mind. He stared at the figure in front of him that he assumed was his brother. "What're…you doin'?"

Dean looked up at Sam and sighed, "Cleaning." He said simply. Sam nodded feverishly, and then his head fell limp on his shoulders. It was too heavy to hold up.

As soon as Sam's arms were cleaned off, Dean placed the bottle of peroxide back into the first-aid kit, and then placed it on the floor by the bed. He then pulled Sam's shoes off and threw them on the ground.

He knew helping his brother get dressed for bed was a lost cause, so he only laid Sam down on the bed, and placed his head delicately on the pillow.

Sam groaned, and then managed to roll over onto his stomach and fall asleep.

Dean looked down at his brother, and then began to think about his options. Lycanthrope had no cure, they had found that out the hard way with Madison a few weeks ago. And Dean knew with every fiber of his being that killing his brother was definitely not an option. Even though his father had warned him that day might come, he knew he could never go through with it.

Dean sighed as he reached into his pants pocket for his phone and dialed an old friend. It rang once, and then twice, "Hello?" came a tired gruff old voice. "Bobby?" Dean questioned with relief.

xXx

The next morning was strange for Sam. He knew Dean was awake, and standing outside the motel room. He wasn't talking or anything to give away his position, and Sam didn't even have his eyes open yet.

Sam pried his eyes open in shock when he realized he knew his brother was outside because he could smell him.

Sam sat bolt up in his bed, and looked around the room. He vision now being more defined. He then noticed something that scared him further. In what seemed like a quiet motel room in the morning, really seemed to be a lot busier to him this morning. He heard a small mouse scurrying behind the television set. He smelled its' blood, and heard its fast-paced heart beat. He heard the faucets in the bathroom drip, drip, drip.

He held his head, as suddenly memories from the previous night came crashing into his mind. He was bitten, and he knew there was no cure. He sighed out loud. He knew Dean didn't want to face it, but Sam felt he couldn't live this way. Killing people mercilessly, for his own means of survival? It didn't seem worth it.

Dean made his way back into the room after being alone with his thoughts for a few moments. He closed and locked the door behind him, and then looked up and saw his brothers' puppy dog hazel eyes staring him in the face. And with that look, Dean knew what was coming.

"How ya feelin' Sammy?" Dean asked sounding concerned. Sam shrugged, and then swung his legs over the side of the bed to face his brother.

"Dean…you know what we have to do, right?" Sam questioned a little sadly.

Dean shook his head, and then walked over the kitchenette. He pulled out a mug, and then faced his brother. "I'm not killing you." He then proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Sam shrugged, and then swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can do it myself man. You don't have to, it's fine."

Dean walked over to his own bed with his cup of coffee in his hands; he sat down facing his brother with a look of disbelief on his face. "No, come on. I already called Bobby. I told him we would be there by the end of the week."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on! There's no cure! We've been through everything, we've tried everything. There's nothing we can do…it's over. And uh…even if we do shove off today, making our way to Bobby's you're forgetting that…tonight." Sam swallowed again. He couldn't bring himself to say what would happen to him tonight. He and his brother knew all too well.

Dean shrugged. "I can lock you up."

Sam chuckled dryly. "And if I bust out?"

Dean shrugged again. "Don't worry so much. You won't."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Really, and you know this for sure? How?" He demanded.

Dean pulled out a small chain from his coat pocket, and then placed it on the nightstand between the two beds. Sam eyed it warily. Instinct told him to bolt for the door as soon as that chain came into view, but he had more control than that.

"Silver?" Sam questioned.

Dean nodded. "I'll put this around your neck, and you'll be too weak to fight through the chains."

Sam sighed; he would have thought this was a great plan if he wasn't the one they were talking about chaining up. But he also knew his brother wouldn't kill him…or let him kill himself.

Sam shook his head in defeat. "Fine…but promise me one thing."

"What?"

"If…if one night I do ever bust loose, and I kill someone…either you kill me, or you let me do it. Got it?" He bargained nervously.

Dean sighed, and then nodded. "Agreed."

If you couldnt already guess, this is based in season 2. haha. But all the information about this story is on my profile.

Thanks for reading!