Title: Death from Within

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: The Monster of the Week turns out to be more than the boys bargained for within an abandoned hotel in the Nevada desert. post 1x09 "Home" hurt/comfort/awesome!Sam/Dean

Author's Note: hurty…comforty…fun. :P and Happy Birthday, Leahelisabeth!

Beta'd by the Always Awesome JaniceC678 - Friend and Muse's co-conspirator

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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"Shit," Dean said with feeling when he came back into the room and found Sam puking his guts up on the carpet. "You're ok. Just take a breath." He put a hand to the back of his neck and steadied Sam when the gagging finally eased and he slumped back against the side of the bed.

"Sorry," Sam said breathlessly and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Just caught up with me all of a sudden."

"Don't worry about it," Dean slid his arm under his brother's shoulder and pulled him back up to his feet with a smirk. "Definitely not getting the deposit back on this place. They're gonna be damn irritated with Calvin Wrightstaff."

Sam chuckled weakly and started for the door. "Let's go, Calvin, before I change my mind about the hospital."

Dean walked him out to the Impala with a snort. "You say that like you actually have a choice."

Sam shot a bitch-face at his brother and slid into the passenger seat with a groan. His stomach and chest burned with pain but Dean didn't need to know that just yet. They were going to a hospital anyway; he'd find out soon enough. Sam watched his brother walk in front of the car and a part of him suffered; wondering if Ellie had been abandoned to some horrible death because of him…because he'd allowed himself to be infected with the hydrus.

Chapter 5

Dean paced in the waiting room with a furious expression on his face that had driven away two nurses before they reached him. He'd taken Sam to a large clinic, preferring to avoid the hospital they'd been to the night before. He didn't want to risk someone recognizing them. The doctor had kicked Dean out of the room and enforced it with a security guard when Dean had argued loudly to stay with his brother. Sam had finally waved him off with an amused smile and Dean had gone, but he didn't damn well like it.

"Mr. Brenna."

Dean turned with the sound of the name on their fake insurance and nodded warily. It was the doctor who'd kicked him out of the room. "Where is my brother and is he alright?"

Doctor Simons smiled in spite of the dangerous look on Dean Brenna's face. He was used to dealing with frightened family members, and fear frequently manifested in aggression. "Sam is going to be fine. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to him."

"About damn time," Dean growled and fell into step beside the doctor. "So how is he really?"

"There are definite signs of internal trauma, but it's mild. You said he was attacked in an alley?" the doctor asked with a brow raised. Sam's injuries were, more or less, consistent with a brutal beating, but some things didn't quite add up - the already healing bruises around his throat for one

Dean nodded. It was the best story he could think of to fit Sam's injuries that didn't involve a skinless monster and a gut-eating snake, which he figured would only get him a room of his own in the psychiatric wing on a 72-hour hold and a cop waiting to arrest him for assaulting his brother. "Big guys. They roughed him up before I got there and, you know, stabbed him. Almost choked him out." He shrugged.

Dr. Simons nodded. "Well, the stab wound is shallow and didn't do any real damage, nor the scratches on his chest and arm. I've sent off some blood tests since it looks like someone actually bit his neck." He shook his head. "Whoever it was has unusually sharp teeth." The doctor looked at Dean, but the brother made no sign of explaining further and Simons sighed. "There aren't any signs of bruising yet around his torso, which is odd, but the MRI showed quite a bit of internal bruising to some of his organs. He's going to be sore for quite a while." He stopped outside the door to a room and met Dean's eyes with a steady gaze. "He needs to take it easy for a couple of weeks or some of those bruises could become tears, and you'll be trying to get him back here before he bleeds out internally. Understand?"

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded, knowing that 'taking it easy' wasn't in their immediate future until the thing in the hotel was dead.

"You understand he's very lucky he doesn't need surgery at this point. Also…" and the doctor rolled his eyes with a laugh. "…you might want to consider getting your brother some help for his addiction to his laptop. He's been on that thing since we brought him back from the MRI, painkillers and all."

Dean smiled, relieved, and nodded. "Yeah, I'll, uh…I'll talk to him. Thanks." He went past the doctor and pushed open the door to the room. Sam lay in a bed with his computer propped in his lap. The blue glow from the screen only emphasized how pale his little brother was. Leads ran from under the hospital scrubs they'd put him in, and Sam poked at the nasal cannula under his nose while Dean watched.

"Dean," Sam said when he looked up and saw his brother. "Can we go now?"

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped into the chair next to his bed. "Not yet. The doc explain it to you?" He watched Sam's face and saw the moment he decided to try and hide the seriousness of his injuries. He snorted. "Shut up," Dean said as Sam opened his mouth. "He already told me, so there's no point tryin' to play it off."

Sam stared and then sighed, settling back into the pillows. "Ok, fine; but I'm good to finish this job." He turned the laptop to face his brother and tapped the screen. "I found it." He shifted slightly, trying to move so his abdomen didn't ache so much. "I followed the hydrus."

Dean leaned forward to look at the picture on the screen and grimaced. "Not any prettier in a picture." It was the same creature they'd seen in the Goldfield, hideous and skinless.

"It's called a nukelavee." Sam turned the laptop back to him and scrolled down the page. "They're Orcadian or maybe Norse but they're bad news, big time. That's why the hydrus was there. They follow creatures of pure evil like the nukelavee. They feed on it…the evil…so they…they eat into other creatures and wait for the nukelavee to feed and get into it that way. Then they basically pre-digest its insides, and…it's messy when they chew their way out."

"Holy crap, it's a friggin Alien chest-burster…well…gut-burster." Dean shook his head, thinking of Joe's corpse in the van with his insides burst all over the interior and leaned back in the chair. "That is some messed up shit, dude." It chilled him to the bone knowing that Sam had nearly gone that way.

"Yeah." Sam shivered and closed the laptop. "We need to take the head. The…the humanoid head, that is…then the remains have to be doused in holy water and the head salted and burned separately." He lay back in the bed as his energy left him. "The lore's not clear exactly, but, uh, I don't think the body actually dies until the head's burned."

"Awesome." Dean leaned forward and pulled the laptop away from his fading brother. "Get some sleep. I don't think you're getting out of here for at least another hour. The doc didn't quite buy my story."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. He raised his arm with a line running to an IV stand beside the bed. "He's got me on some serious antibiotics, and I think I'm starting to feel the painkillers now." He smiled a little goofily as the medication began to ease the ache and burn in his stomach. "Yep. There they are."

Dean chuckled and got comfortable. Part of him wanted to rush back to the hotel on his own and find and kill the thing but he couldn't leave Sam, and he knew damn well he needed backup, even if all he let Sam do was hold the flashlight. He smirked. That conversation was going to be fun. He waited until the pain medication put Sam well and truly under and then moved to sit on the side of the bed. Dean needed to see for himself.

He pulled the thin blanket down Sam's chest and tugged up the scrub top. Dean peeled the bandages back from his stomach gently and bit his bottom lip. There were seven new stitches closing the cut Dean had made. It was beginning to bruise around it, no doubt from his struggle to pull the hydrus out. "I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said softly. He replaced the bandages and checked the other wounds. The claw marks on his chest and shoulder were now expertly cleaned and covered, and even the bite on Sam's neck looked less disturbing.

"He really will be alright," Dr. Simons said from the door after watching Dean methodically – and almost professionally - check his little brother's injuries for a minute. He smiled when Dean jerked in surprise. "Are you sure you've told me everything about how he was injured?"

Dean pulled Sam's top back down and the blanket back up to his chin and nodded. "Nothing much else to tell, doc."

"Uh huh." Dr. Simons moved into the room to the opposite side of the bed and held up a manila folder. "You see, I wanted to make sure Sam's left kidney wasn't in danger of tearing. Some of the most severe internal bruising is there, so I had the MRI images enlarged, and…" he looked at the folder and then raised a questioning brow to Dean. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the injury to his kidney looks like…well…very small teeth marks." He tossed the folder to the foot of the bed and crossed his arms. "So I checked the rest of the scans and there are similar marks on the bones of his left arm, inside his shoulder and his left lung. I don't suppose you can tell me why it looks like something tried to eat your little brother from the inside out?"

Dean blinked and then shook his head slowly. "That would be crazy, wouldn't it?"

"Impossible even." The doctor nodded and easily saw the wariness on Dean's face. "Dean…" Simons shook his head and looked down at Sam's pale face for a moment. He glanced back up at Dean and sighed. "Never mind." He went to the door and stopped, not looking back. "For future reference, a half inch lower and to the left is a safer place to…be stabbed like that. Your brother's very lucky the person who cut him didn't press just a little harder or he might have perforated Sam's liver."

Dean shivered at that while the doctor left. The intimation was clear; Dean had nearly killed his brother trying to save him, though the doctor had no idea what from. "Shit," Dean whispered and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder to calm himself. "Starting to think I need to study a little human anatomy, dude."

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Sam sat on the edge of his hospital bed and was trying to decide if standing was actually a good idea or not. It had been six hours since Dean had brought him in. The sun was starting to get low in the sky, shining orange through the window behind him and warming his bare back. He'd managed to get his jeans on while Dean left to sign him out, but his shirt was still sitting next to him. His left shoulder had refused to obey him and lift his arm over his head.

"Sam."

Sam looked up when his doctor walked in and gave a wan smile. "Hey, doc."

"You need to stay here at least another day." Dr. Simons frowned as he walked over to the bed and picked up Sam's t-shirt to hold it in front of him. "You can't even get your own shirt on yet, and from the look of you, I'd say you're afraid to stand up without help right now. How am I doing?"

Sam blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Disturbingly accurate, but it doesn't change anything. We have to go."

Dr. Simons resisted the urge to try and shake some sense into the boy. Sam's eyes were still a little glassy under the shaggy, dark hair hanging in his face. "You haven't been any more forthcoming than your brother in regards to what happened to you. It's very frustrating."

"Dr. Simons, it's…" Sam ran his right hand through his hair and sighed. "I…you wouldn't believe it. Please don't ask."

"I know." Simons raised his hands in surrender. "I understand….well, no, I really don't, but I get the impression that I'm happier that way." He smiled ruefully and straightened out Sam's shirt. He pulled the sleeve up Sam's left arm for him and then tugged it over his head, chuckling at the disgusted expression Sam was giving him, and then grew serious again. "I do know that there are sometimes strange…things out there in the desert. I treated a man once…" He looked at Sam again and shook his head slightly, and Sam recognized the vague look of confusion in his eyes at the memory. He had seen it countless times on the faces of the people they routinely helped when they knew SOMETHING out of the ordinary was going on, but before they became truly aware of just how weird things could really get. Sam had no doubt at that moment that he was not the first hunter the doctor had treated without really knowing what it was he was dealing with. With Sam's strange case now, it was possible he was starting to draw some seemingly impossible connections.

The doctor blinked as if clearing his mind of the strange memory. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. But you DO need to be careful for a couple weeks, Sam. On this I am very serious." He let Sam get his shirt on the rest of the way and gave him a stern look. "If you're…attacked again…" He rolled his eyes. "…you have a kidney and a lung that could rupture, one or both, and you'll end up right back here a hell of a lot worse off."

"I understand." Sam pulled his shirt down his chest and met the man's concerned eyes. "We'll be careful. I promise."

"Damn right, you will," Dean said severely as he pushed a wheelchair into the room in time to hear the end of the exchange. "He's not going to be doing anything more strenuous than lifting a cup of coffee for a while, and don't give me that bitch-face. It ain't gonna work. Come on, Ms. Daisy." Dean patted the wheelchair with a grin.

Dr. Simons laughed and took Sam's right arm to steady him while he slid his feet to the floor. He found himself holding more of Sam's weight than he'd expected as the boy paled even further and sagged against him. "I really wish you'd reconsider and stay another day, but if you insist on leaving, PLEASE, take it easy, Sam. Easy. Here we go."

Dean slapped the lock on the wheels and then took hold of his brother's shoulder, helping to turn him and guide him down slowly into the chair. "Sam…"

"I'm ok," Sam said quickly and made an effort to get his head back up. "Really. I can do this."

"Here." Dr. Simons pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Dean. "Here are instructions on taking care of him, prescriptions he absolutely needs for antibiotics and painkillers, and my personal cell number in case something happens." He smiled at the surprised look both men gave him. "I can't imagine why, but I get the impression you boys may need my help again."

"That's…" Dean smiled in surprise, unused to seeing honest concern on a doctor's face. "Thanks, doc, for everything. We owe you."

"Make sure I don't see Sam again and we'll call it even." Doctor Simons rested a hand briefly on Sam's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Sam."

"Thank you." Sam smiled warmly while Dean rolled him away. He waited until they were well down the hall and then turned to see his brother behind him. "We're going back tonight and you're not leaving me behind."

"Never even occurred to me," Dean said easily, though it seriously had. "I don't wanna face the knucklehead alone."

Sam snorted softly. "Nukelavee."

"That's what I said." Dean smiled. He was going to make damn sure Sam didn't end up in harm's way again.

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Sam walked slowly up the sidewalk toward the Goldfield hotel beside his brother. The van, truck, and police car were still there, now covered in a layer of sand as though the desert were laying claim to them. "Can't believe no one's come looking for a missing police officer yet."

Dean nodded and looked up and down the street while he hefted the weapons bag higher on his shoulder. The sun was almost set behind the mountains and the last rays of light were shining on the top floors of the hotel. "Must not have anyone to miss him at home, poor sucker. But still…you'd think his precinct would be looking for him."

Sam wrinkled his nose as they neared the van and the desert breeze blew the scent of rotting flesh toward them. Joe's body had been in there through an entire day of blistering sun. He didn't envy whoever had to clean the poor guy up.

Dean had a wary eye on his brother. They'd had a hell of a yelling match at the motel before they'd left, after which Sam had grudgingly agreed to stay behind Dean at all times and not put himself in harm's way, period. It was too dangerous given the condition he was in. He rolled his eyes. He didn't believe Sam for one second that he would actually hang back when it came to a fight. He'd just have to make sure Sam didn't have a chance to get hurt again.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked. Even in the fading light, it wasn't hard to see that Sam was moving stiffly. His eyes were squinted in a way that said 'pain,' and he held his left arm across his waist.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Really." He was exhausted. His stomach, chest, and shoulder ached enough that he wished he'd given in and taken the painkillers Dean had offered before they left, but he wanted to be clear-headed. No matter what his big brother thought, he was going to need Sam to finish this job. The nukelavee wasn't your garden variety creature. It was vicious, even more vicious than the lore had made it out to be, and there was the very clear danger of another hydrus making its way into one of them. Dean had described what Joe looked like in the van and Sam knew it had been the serpent that killed him. If there were two, there could be more, and it took only a second of inattention to end up with one of them inside you, as he well knew.

"Well, you look like hammered crap, little brother," Dean told him with a smirk he didn't really feel. "Stay behind me and don't pull any 'hero' crap in there. Seriously…you heard the doc. You get hit again, you could bleed out before I can even get you back to town." He glared at Sam a moment longer to make his point and then went up to the entrance to the hotel and pulled the door open. "Ready?"

Sam nodded, drew his gun and flashlight and followed his brother inside. "Third floor?"

"Good a place as any to start since that's where it was dragging you," Dean said quietly and made for the stairs. He was halfway up when he heard his brother stop behind him. "Sammy?"

"Dammit. Dean? You smell that?" Sam turned and went back to the bottom of the stairs with the smell of rotting flesh once more filling his nose. He sniffed and followed the odor past the stairs and toward the back of the lobby. "It's worse here."

"Wait up, dammit!" Dean snarled and jogged back down the stairs, running to catch up his brother. "What did I say?"

Sam turned a lopsided smile to him. "Must have hit my head too. I forgot."

"Get behind me." Dean didn't smile. He didn't think it was funny. He pulled Sam's hand off the door handle and pushed in front of him before something big and ugly came out the door at him. "Don't even start with me or I will carry you back to the car and lock your ass in the trunk."

Sam glared but kept his mouth shut. He understood where Dean's anger was coming from. He remembered the fear and the anger that had driven him when a wendigo had taken his big brother from under his nose. It didn't make it any easier to take now, though. He sighed and raised his gun to cover his brother. "Ok."

Dean turned the knob and shoved the door open with the beam from Sam's flashlight streaming over his shoulder. The smell rolled out from the door to gag them both, and Dean threw his left arm over his nose and mouth while he coughed. "Holy crap." He coughed again and shook his head. "Stay here."

Sam nodded with his eyes watering and turned to watch the lobby, making sure nothing could sneak up on them and fighting the urge to cough. He had a feeling it wouldn't be a good idea just then.

Dean eased into the pitch-black room with his flashlight and played it across maroon walls and down to the floor. He realized with a start that his feet were crunching through aging carpeting coated in dried blood. "Yech." He swallowed hard, refusing to gag again, and nearly lost the fight when he found the body…or the pieces of one. The nukelavee had obviously been feeding off the corpse. Chunks had been bitten out from the chest and legs, and one whole arm was missing. He shone his light along the carnage and narrowed his eyes when something glinted. Dean moved closer and knelt and then blew out a breath. It was a policeman's badge. "Sorry, buddy." His only consolation was that the man looked and smelled to have been dead before they even arrived. This person's death, at least, wasn't on them.

"Dean?" Sam called and then coughed. He bent over his stomach and braced his left arm over his chest as it sent licks of pain through him. "Crap."

"Found the cop," Dean said as he came out and pulled the door shut behind him. "No sign of the girl yet. Hey, take it easy, Sammy." He grabbed his arm in concern while Sam wheezed and coughed.

Sam waved his good arm and got his breathing back under control. He straightened carefully and gave Dean a wan smile. "Sorry. I'm good. The smell just got to me is all."

"Come on." Dean moved away without stating the obvious, that Sam was paler now after the coughing fit than he had been when they came in or that he was holding himself even more stiffly than before. He started up the stairs again with Sam behind him and purposefully kept his pace slower.

Sam had to brace his sore left arm over his aching gut as they climbed and bit his lip to keep his breathing somewhat normal. In the unnatural stillness of the hotel, he'd have no chance of Dean not hearing how much difficulty he was having.

Dean lowered the weapons back for his shoulder on the second floor landing and pulled out two machete sheathes. "Here."

Sam took his and unbuckled his belt, looping it quickly through. "At least we know bullets hurt it even if they don't kill it. I think we should…" Sam's voice was drowned out by a feminine scream echoing through the building. "Oh, God! Ellie?"

"She's still alive?" Dean asked in surprise. "Come on! That came from upstairs."

Sam's own discomfort was forgotten in the need to save this woman. He pounded after Dean to the next flight of stairs and urged his abused body to go faster. "Gotta find her, Dean."

"We will. We're not losing her now," Dean said grimly. The fact that she'd been alive for the last two days and was apparently trapped in the hotel the entire time sent guilt to roil in his stomach. They could have saved her sooner if he'd just been paying better attention and not let his little brother get so hurt. "I'm not losing this one."

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To Be Continued…