"Come on Sam, wake up." Dean shook his younger brother where he lay, sweat plastered under cheap sheets. "SAM!"

It had happened so quickly. Their father had warned them about the thing he was hunting. Dean couldn't even remember its name right now, but it followed John's scent back here. Dean had just gone across the road for burgers—just five minutes to get their dinner. When he came back, the door was open. He'd dropped their cokes and cheeseburgers on the pavement and run in screaming.

But Sam had been fine. He'd thrown the ashes of a blessed animal at it, like their father had instructed if need be, and the creature had fled. Dean had scooped him up, patted him down, but he swore he had no injuries. A close call but they were fine.

That was last night. Now Sam wouldn't wake up. He was moaning in his sleep. His eyes rolled under his lids faster and faster.

"SAMMY!"
"Dean..."

"Oh Sam, please wake up."

"Ugh...what's happening?" Sam's head lolled to the side. Dean sat him up in hopes it would help things get clearer but Sam gagged and choked on a slew of vomit.

"Sam!" Dean got both arms under him and took him to the washroom. Then he dialed his father. His phone went to voicemail.

"It's Dean. Sam's really sick. I'm taking him to the hospital."

"The hospital?" His brother had overheard from where he was slumped over porcelain.

"Yeah, kiddo, come on, let's go."

Dean carried him from the cab right into the emergency ward. He was panicked, there was no hiding that and the staff did their best to calm him down when they pulled Sam from his arms and got him in a bed.

Dean sat with shaking hands in the waiting room until they called him in. He hurried to Sam's side, to find him awake, though sleepy.

"Dean."

"Sammy." Dean put a hand on his head. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't worry, Dad will be here soon, he'll know what to do."

"You think it was the creature?"

"Has to be. Sammy, what did it do to you?"

"Nothing, I swear, Dean."

"Okay, it's okay, I'll call Dad again." But he stopped when the doctor came in. "What's wrong with him?"

"We're running blood tests right now, don't worry, Sam's vitals are strong, we'll fix him up soon."

The doctor shone a light in Sam's eyes and looked at the machines next to the bed.

"You can stay for now but Sam should get some rest."

"Okay."

Dean settled in next to the bed. He rested his hand on Sam's arm and leaned on the plastic rail.

"Dean I'm gonna be fine," his little brother reassured him.

"It should be me telling you that."

Sam chuckled. "I think I'm going to sleep now."

"Okay, I'll be here." He watched Sam's eyes flutter closed but they shot open again at once when the curtain behind them ripped open and John burst in the cubicle.

"Sammy!" He shoved past Dean and got his arms around his youngest.

"It's okay Dad, I'm gonna be fine," Sam repeated but John let him go and turned his steel gaze to Dean.

"You said it didn't touch him."

"It didn't-"

The slap made Dean stagger. He caught the side of the chair and held his face. Sam sat in stunned silence as he watched Dean straighten and wipe away the blood on his lip.

"Dad...it wasn't Dean's fault..." Sam whispered from the bed.

"OF COURSE IT WAS!" John's voice echoed off all the metal surfaces. Beyond the curtain, Sam could see other patients look their way. Someone pushing a cart stopped. "Dean your job is to protect Sammy. How the Hell do you think you were going to do that from across the street?! You never should have left him alone!"

"I know." Dean's face was red from the strike.

"Do you? Or did you leave him alone because you were pissed off I didn't take you on the hunt? Is this some way of getting back at me?"

"What did you say?" Dean stiffened. "How dare you even think that!"

He made to walk away, John caught his wrist.

"We're not done."

"What you gonna hit me again in front of Sammy while he's lying in a hospital bed?!" Dean yanked his hand away. "Go to Hell."

"DEAN!" But John didn't follow him when he stormed out of the ward.

"Dad..."

"Shhh, Sammy it's okay." His father moved to his side. "We'll get you better."

"But it wasn't Dean's fault."

"Don't worry about that now, son. Just try to get some rest."

Sam lay back, but he couldn't find peace without his brother by his side.

"It's a virus that's been going around. Sam was just unlucky, most kids his age get a bit of flu- like symptoms and it passes within a day. He just got a bad strain, it will work its way out of his system in a few days."

John let out a relieved sigh. So it was nothing supernatural after all. He and Bobby had determined as much when they researched all the lore about what John had been hunting. There was no indication it used any sort of poison or sickness-inducing substances.

"I told you," Sam said from his bed.

"Yeah." John sat back. Dean had been gone all of last night and today without a word.

"You should find Dean."

"He'll find us, don't worry."

"Actually," the doctor cut in, "Is Dean Sam's brother, the one that brought him in?"

"Yes. Why?"

"This strain seems to be affecting young adults the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's common that a virus will effect one age bracket worse than others. Normally it's young children or older people, but from time to time one will crop up that strikes the healthiest among us the hardest. This is one of those strains."

"How bad?"

"Well, we've seen one death already, but most cases aren't as serious if we catch them early. I would like to check out Dean as soon as possible, since he was probably exposed with Sam."

"Right, I'll go get him."

The doctor nodded and left. John rose and punched in Dean's number. He hadn't called him all night out of anger. Now he was frantic to hear his voice on the other end.

"Dad?" Sam sat nervously on the bed, watching his father's face grow tighter as he got no answer. He hung up. "Dad where is he?"

"Just sit tight son, I'll find him."

Dean sniffed hard. He wasn't crying—he refused to cry. His face stilled burned, in fact his whole body was hot with anger. He was sweating even in the cold night air as his father's enraged voice played over and over in his head.

How could he say those things? And since when was Dean a prison guard? He should be able to step out for a few minutes without consequence.

But then he began to feel the guilt. No, he should have been there, it was his fault. But how could his father suggest he'd done it on purpose? How could he even say that?
He ran his hands under his eyes, still not admitting to himself it was the start of tears he was catching.

"You know what, screw him." Dean rose from the bench where he'd been sitting, staring at cars driving by. He stuffed his hands into his coat pocket and wandered the streets until he came to a seedy enough bar they didn't ID him. He hustled pool, got in a fight, won and got drunk. He called the hospital in the morning to hear about Sam. They said he was much better, it was just a virus. He let out a relieved sigh, but it only made him angrier at his father. He had been right, this had nothing to do with the creature.

He spent all day dwelling on it. He tried to eat but the thought of food made him want to puke. He stripped his jacket when others were pulling theirs on. He wandered all day until he stumbled into a sandwich shop bathroom and dry heaved. There was nothing in his stomach to come up. He looked at his face in the mirror. There was a dark mark on one side. He fingered the bruise, still seeing his father's enraged eyes when he struck him. He shook his head and felt things spin.

"Shit."

He splashed water on his face and left the deli joint. Night had fallen, he barely remembered wasting the day roaming the streets. A rain picked up and it soothed his burning skin. Part of him knew he should get inside, call his father, maybe even go to the hospital, but every time he considered it, he heard those awful words ringing in his head. He saw those terrible eyes.

And so he slowly lost his senses until he was too out of it to realize how much trouble he was in, to register that he was far from the hospital or the motel. And so he was utterly alone when his knees gave, when his head hit pavement, and the rain thundered down on his burning body.

Poor Dean...thanks for the reviews! Part II to this one coming soon!

Riza