Supernatural 1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes: Why is Dean always hurt or sick? Because I like it that way!_

_Author's Notes II: I'd just like to say 'Hi' to anyone that has decided to read this. I'd like to say that this story is my second attempt at SN fanfic and that it's by far not one of my best (and as anyone that has read any of my other stuff written after this was written already knows) I'm only posting this because I'm sick of e-mail barrage from a certain person that shall remain nameless. Anyway, please enjoy the sick!Dean as much as I do and thanks for reading._

Chapter 1

Sam awoke from his deep sleep feeling more rested then he had in a very long time. It had been a long night, chasing a damn puck through the Wisconsin forests. But they'd gotten it, killed it, and made it back for a burger and a beer.

Looking at the clock, Sam was surprised to see it was a little after ten in the morning. Glancing over and seeing Dean still sleeping, Sam used Dean's slumber to his advantage, and hit the shower first.

Ten minutes and most of the hot water later, Sam emerged from a cloud of steam, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel. He dried and dressed, and sitting on his bed, decided it was time to wake Dean. Launching a pillow in Dean's direction, Sam smiled when it hit it's mark, Dean's head.

"Rise and shine, it's almost ten-thirty. We gotta check out of here in a half hour, and you haven't showered yet. Get a move on!"

Sam frowned at the lack of reaction. He knew the projectile alone should have elicited the sort of verbal barrage that included a few choice four letter words, but instead he got silence. Taking a good look at Dean, he tried to remember the last time he saw him sleep in the fetal position. He was usually sprawled out from edge to edge, occupying most of the space he had. This time, his knees were pulled up so tight to his chest, Sam wondered if he was reliving his gestation. He was pretty sure he could stuff him into one of the duffels with room to spare.

Standing up and taking the short step between beds, he grabbed the pillow he'd thrown from off of Dean's head and tossed it aside.

The sight before him scared Sam. Dean's face and chest was covered in sweat. His face contorted in pain, his breathing coming in short, quick pants. Sam almost thought he was hyperventilating.

Grabbing Dean by the shoulder, Sam tried to gently roll him over. The groan of agony instantly stopped him, and shocked him even more.

"Oh Shit Dean, what's wrong? You're burning up man. This is not good."

"Sam…….." his voice was barely a whisper, "Help me."

Those were the two words that struck more fear in Sam then the whole supernatural world combined. If Dean was asking for help, Sam knew it had to be snowing in hell right now. Dean never asked for help.

Rifling through the duffels, Sam grabbed the thermometer from the first aid kit.

"Dean. Open your mouth, I need to take your temperature."

"Can't.."

"If you don't open your mouth, I'll have to take it from the other end, and I gotta tell you dude, you're in the perfect position for it."

Without a sound, Dean opened his mouth just enough for Sam to slide the thermometer under his tongue. Then he waited the short eternity for it to register. Sam took a look at it, and if possible, got more worried.

"104! Shit Dean, I need to get you to a hospital."

"Sam……sick……….gonna be………."

Sam took that warning instantly, grabbing the little wastebasket next to the bed. Quickly sitting against Dean's back, he rolled him over into his lap, lifting his head and shoulders enough to shove the basket under his chin. Amazingly, Dean was able to hold it in long enough to not throw up all over the bed, but the instant Sam brought the can up, he let it rip.

He wretched for what seemed like hours. Mercifully, the heaving finally stopped, and Dean relaxed just a little. The excruciating pain in his stomach subsided enough for him to slightly uncurl himself.

Sam eased Dean back down onto the bed. His own shirt was now soaked through, but not from his own sweat. It was all Dean's.

"Dude you gotta let me get that fever down, or I gotta take you to the hospital. I'm gonna put you in a cold bath. Can you roll over and hang your face over the side of the bed? I don't want you to throw up on yourself."

Dean just laid there, unable to move, face buried in a pillow.

"I'm fine Sam. I feel better already.

"You may feel better Dean, but if we don't get your fever down, you're gonna cook your brains. I'm running the tub, and you're going to get in it, and I don't wanna hear a word from you other than 'Yes Sam'."

"Whatever, dude. Do what you gotta do."

"I'll take that as a 'Yes, Sam'."

He started running the cold water, then added just enough warm water to make it slightly tolerable. This was not going to be fun, and Dean definitely wasn't going to like it. He already had chills, that was obvious to Sam by the way he was shaking uncontrollably.

By the time Sam came back in the room, Dean had rolled onto his side, knees firmly plastered to his chest again.

"Dean, can you sit up?" He just shook his head no.

"What if I help you?" No again.

"Is it bad again?" Yes.

"Alright, I guess I'll have to carry you." Sam bent over, fully intent on doing exactly what he'd said. He reached for one of Dean's arms, and started to pull him up.

"Sam…just shoot me, please?"

"I can't, it's against the law. Fratricide pretty much gets you a life sentence whatever state you're in. Are you gonna help me, or do I need to do this myself?"

Dean gathered every ounce of strength he had, and made a good effort to stand. Until he actually tried to put his weight on his legs, that is. Sam had an arm under his, and caught him before he went face first to the floor, and lifted him up, taking all of Dean's weight. He practically dragged him to the bathroom, awkwardly lowering him down into the frigid water. Dean actually screamed then, sending chills up Sam's spine.

Grabbing a washcloth, Sam sat next to the tub, trying to cool down Dean's face and neck. He was just too damn big for the little motel bathtub. And it didn't take long for his body heat to warm up the water. Sam pulled the drain, letting the water out, and started filling the tub again. If there was one thing motels had, it was overabundance of cold water.

He pulled Dean out of the tub after he'd thrown up again, twice, each time more violently then the last. He thought he'd heard Dean's back cracking, the heaving was so hard. He was probably going to give himself a concussion too. He dried him off, and just laid him back on the bed in wet boxers.

"Dean, I need to take your temp again. If it's not down, I'm taking you to the nearest hospital."

Thermometer in hand, Sam received no resistance this time. Dean was quiet and compliant. In this case, that wasn't a good thing either. The mere mention of a hospital usually had Dean throwing a tantrum like a two year old when you take away his cookie.

"Aw, fuck me! It's 104.3. It's up. That's it, we're outta here."

Sam frantically started gathering their meager belongings, and haphazardly threw them out in the car, not caring where they landed. Coming back in for Dean, he was in no way attempting to put clothes on him. He just wrapped him in the ugly motel comforter like a baby, and clumsily carried him out to the car. He laid him across the passenger seat, head hanging down, trash can on the floor. Sam was pretty sure Dean would never throw up in his baby, but why risk it.

Sam had one rather large problem, he had no idea where the nearest hospital was. All he knew is that they were in some crappy town outside of Madison, with only one cheap motel, one gas station, and four bars. Pulling out his cell, he dialed 411. Scavaging a pen from the glove box, he told the operator what town he was in, and asked for the number and address of the nearest hospital. With nothing to write on, he jotted it down on his hand, hung up, and started the car.

Attempting to dial, he was shocked at the strength of the hand that closed around his wrist. He squeezed with all the strength he had, and fueled by the pain he was in, was quite a bit. "Sam, no hospital, please."

"Dean, I need to get you help. You've got a 104 and rising fever, and you're throwing up lunch from two weeks ago. Do you realize the last time you threw up, there was blood in it? You need a doctor, and you need one now."

"No hospital Sam, please."

Sam was getting frustrated with his brother now. "Dean, do you want to die in the front seat of your car, because if I don't get you help, you probably will."

"Not the hospital Sam, please."

"Dean, spit it out, I can't read your mind when it's baking in it's own juices. Where the hell are we gonna go if we aren't going to the hospital?"

"Lou………….'

Sam didn't need to be told twice. Punching the buttons on his phone, he sent the text message from hell, Dean's hell, that is. '_Dean 911/2 hours/Sam.'_

_End Notes: Reviews are always appreciated. I'm open to suggestion too._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi again to everyone. I was a little 'out of sorts' when I posted the first chapter so I guess I'll toss in a brief bit of story history here. For anyone that didn't already figure it out, this is a sequel to my very first fanfic, "You Can Pick Your Friends But Not Your Family." It was written during the summer of 2007 and I personally think it's not one of my better pieces of work. (That's my opinion though and I am entitled to it.) You can totally tell I was a newbie when you read it and I'm thinking I may just tweak it from its original posting at SNville. (It most definitely couldn't hurt) It's complete, so I'll post it fast just to appease the powers that be. (Yeah, you know who you are…) Anyway, thanks to anyone that is reading it and God Bless You! _

Chapter 2

It took more than the two hours Sam had anticipated making the trip from Wisconsin to Illinois in. He hadn't planned on the three stops they'd have to make to let Dean out of the car to get sick. He'd long since finished throwing up anything that had once resembled food, leaving his stomach with nothing left in it to expel but occasional bloody spit. But when the urge was there, he couldn't control it or stop it and when he'd finally finished what was really nothing more than painful dry heaving now, he was physically spent and unable to even move. Once he would go still, Sam would just reposition him, get back in the car, and continue the trek south.

Dean had just about soaked the comforter Sam had wrapped him in through and the chills racking his limp frame made him look like an epileptic in the thralls of one very long seizure. Sam thought for sure he'd have blisters on his leg from the heat radiating off Dean's body and he'd occasionally let out a moan, indicating to Sam how much pain he had to be in.

The sight of the house was more of a relief then Sam could have believed. He pulled up as close to the door as he could, just short of driving up onto the grass. He leapt out of the car, shot up the steps to the front door like a bullet and started rapping on the door like a madman. It took all of two seconds before someone answered, two seconds too long to Sam.

"Jesus Christ Sam, lay off the door! Breaking it down isn't gonna get you in here any faster. What the hell's going on?"

"Can you help me bring him in? I think I'm hurting him every time I touch him."

"Just relax a minute Sam, let me go look at him first."

She peered into the car and sized up the situation pretty quickly. Giving Sam the 'give me a minute' sign, she went back inside. She returned quickly and went straight back to the car, ignoring the pacing man every step of the way. Sam followed right behind her and climbed back into the driver's seat, ready to do whatever was needed to help. She peeled back the wet blanket from Dean's sweaty skin, pulled down the soaked boxers, and shot him crudely in the ass with a very long needle. With the palm of her hand, she roughly massaged the fluid into the muscle she had just injected something into, helping it infiltrate faster. She was met with a few grunts and groans, but no resistance.

"Just wait a few minutes Sam; it'll be easier to get him out of the car once that kicks in."

"What was it?"

"Demerol. It won't kill all the pain, but it'll make it tolerable. How long has he been like that?"

"I'm not sure. Sometime between late last night and early this morning."

"What were you two doing last night?"

"Hunting a friggin' forest fairy. After we got it, we ate, had a couple beers, and then went back to the motel."

"What did he eat?"

"What does he always eat? A Burger and fries."

She shook her head, noticing that Dean had relaxed a little. He didn't feel like a wound up rubber band ready to snap anymore. "I think we can get him inside now. Can you do it, or do you need help?"

"I'd appreciate some help. It was hell just trying to get him in the car."

"Get that blanket around him, I'll be right back." Again, she went into the house. This time she came back with someone else, someone Sam remembered only too well. "Sam, you remember Dan Scott?"

"How could I forget? Hello Dr. Scott." Sam extended his shaking hand and the doctor accepted it, gripping Sam's hand in a skin vice. He had to say one thing for the doc, he had a firm handshake.

"It's Dan, and we've got to stop meeting like this Sam."

"That'd be just fine by me."

"Each of you grab an end of that blanket, and carry him inside in it."

With Sam at one end, he wrapped the blanket up like a cocoon, sliding Dean' body out enough for Dan to grab the other end. Carrying him by the blanket, they took him inside and straight to the basement. They laid him out on the bed, finally removing the saturated cover he'd been wrapped in for hours.

Lou and Dan went to work, looking like well oiled machine together. She started the IV and did a cursory exam, while Dan took Dean's temperature and blood pressure.

"Temps 104.5, pressure's 160/90. I'll get the cooling blanket."

"Sam, how long has he had that high of a fever?"

"First time I checked it this morning it was already that high, so, all day."

"And what else, besides the obvious cramping? Any diarrhea or vomiting?"

"He was throwing up this morning, then dry heaving all the way here. A couple times he threw up blood. Nothing from the other end though."

"Sam, you may want to wait upstairs. I need to examine him, and he isn't gonna like it much. There's only one way for me to see if anything's ruptured or blocked in there, and I don't think you really want to learn how that is."

Sam was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at already and didn't need to be told twice. "Uh, maybe I'll go check on the car. How long should it take me?"

"Take about a half hour. That should do it."

"Yeah, good idea." Sam hated leaving his brother when he was like this, but he wasn't sticking around for what he knew was coming. Even in the state Dean was currently in, he doubted he was going to be very cooperative for THAT exam.

Grabbing their gear from the car, Sam dropped it at the front door and picked a place on the couch to sit and wait. The basement door was open, giving him a play by play of the events down there. His mind wandered off, and he started daydreaming, or daynightmaring, whatever you want to call it. His thoughts were broken by the sound of metal objects clanging to the floor, and a very agitated voice screaming.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Sam definitely knew whose mouth those words came from.

"DEAN, DON'T MAKE ME TIE YOU DOWN!" He recognized that voice right away too.

"LET GO OF ME!"

"DEAN, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER WE ARE DOING THIS. WHETHER IT'S THE EASY WAY OR THE HARD WAY IS UP TO YOU. DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO GO GET SAM SO HE CAN HOLD YOU DOWN?"

"No." That was the first calm thing he'd said.

"Do you want me to sedate him, Lou?" The third voice asked. Guess that completed the entire peanut gallery in the basement.

"Maybe you should. We can't do this if he's tighter then a drum."

Those were the last heated voices he heard. The rest was medical mumbo jumbo that made no sense, so he just stopped listening; the occasional groan in his brother's voice echoing up the stairs being the only thing he really heard that registered anymore. He was going to lock the memory of today back somewhere in his brain for future use though. Someday, there's going to be good material there.

Lou came back up over an hour later and plopped herself on the other end of the couch rather hard before addressing the younger man. "You ok Sam?"

"I'm fine. What about him?"

"He'll be fine. He picked up a pretty nasty strain of staphylococcus aureus, commonly causing food poisoning. He got so sick so fast, his body dehydrated faster then it could flush the toxins out. He had a slight blockage in his bowel, which Dan is treating right now. I'll spare you the details on the how."

"I think I can figure it out." _'Yep, future there material for sure.'_

"Once we get things flushed out, his fever should go down. I think the violent vomiting episodes triggered a case of gastritis, which is why you saw blood in it. His stomach should heal up on its own once he stops throwing up. We'll rehydrate him and he'll be as good as new in a couple days."

"What would we do without you?"

"Probably die, but hey, that's what I'm here for."

She closed her eyes, and laid her head down on the armrest of the couch, looking totally spent. Sam had not said anything, but it had not gone unnoticed how thin and frail she looked. She almost made Nicole Richie look like Kirstie Alley, pre-Jenny Craig. Her cheeks were sunken in and her eyes didn't have their usual fire in them. They were distant and dull. She moved like an old lady carrying a load of groceries up ten flights of stairs, and her skin was deathly pale.

"Lou, you feel alright?"

"Yeah Sam, I'm just tired. I'm gonna go to bed, ok?" She stated it, but made no effort to get up from the couch to actually do it. Sam was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep already. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over her, just letting her sleep.

When Dan finally came back up, Sam was full of questions that begged for answers.

"Dean's gonna be fine Sam. We couldn't get much cooperation out of him, so we sedated him. He'll be out until morning at the earliest, maybe even afternoon. You can go see him if you want."

"I think I'll just let him sleep. Right now, I want to know what's wrong with her," he said, pointing at the sleeping form at the other end of the couch.

Answering that question was going to take some time, so he took the chair opposite Sam and attempted to answer. "After you guys left a few months ago, she changed. She started working double, sometimes triple shifts. She'd be at the hospital for days at a time, sleeping a couple hours here and there in the staff lounge. I told her it was too soon for her to come back in the first place, let alone work all those hours. She wasn't fully recovered from what happened, but that didn't matter to her. She also stopped socializing with other people. I'm sure you didn't know, but we were kind of seeing each other before you guys showed up, nothing serious, just testing the water. Then, after you two left, she said she didn't want any other relationships but professional ones. She said that to everyone that considered her a friend here. So she stopped having a life, and just started beating her body into the ground. Then, her body fought back. First, she got pneumonia, in the good lung. The other lung only functions at 30, so you can imagine what kind of hell that caused. She was in the hospital for two weeks for that. That was a little over two months ago. Since then, she's fatigued, she gets fevers for no reason, she sleeps for hours every day, she doesn't eat, and her body aches all the time and she bruises easier then bananas. I've tested her for everything under the sun, from mono, to lime disease, to leukemia. Nothing. I want her to go see a friend of mine at the Mayo Clinic, but she refuses. I think she just doesn't care anymore, and it breaks my heart."

"She never said anything. All the times I've talked to her over the last couple months, she hasn't said a word. I had no idea. Is that why you're here? You checking up on her?"

"Me and a couple others come by every day to see how she is and try to make her eat. She's a stubborn, pigheaded woman that doesn't listen to anyone. But we care about her, so we keep coming. She has these episodes too Sam, every now and then. She'll get so exhausted she just drops. We've gotten to the point where someone is here all the time just to keep an eye on her. We don't know what else to do."

Sam was beginning to wonder if the fates were doing things to them for a reason. If Dean hadn't gotten sick, they never would have been here, and they never would have known what was going on. He just wished the fates were a little more subtle. They really didn't need to be all in your face like this.

"Maybe we can convince her to go. We can be pretty persuasive you know." And Sam thought if they couldn't convince her, they'd just tie her up, throw her in the car, and take her there themselves.

"Give it your best shot, hasn't worked for any of us yet."

"Should we take her upstairs?"

"Nah, leave her there. She'll be awake in a couple hours. She only sleeps a couple hours at a time anyway, and then she's only up a couple hours at a time after. Today was the longest stretch she's been up in months. She was pacing that floor the minute she got that message."

Sam chuckled inwardly at the thought that had just crossed his mind. Stubborn and pigheaded. Must be some kind of disease that ran in the Winchester family, because they all had it, and one day it was going to be terminal to one of them.

"Sam, since you're here, I think I'm gonna head out. She'll be out for a couple hours at least, and I need to get to the hospital soon, or they may report me missing. I think Alex is coming by in a little while. Probably a good idea, have someone checking on both of them. I'll be back tomorrow. Sorry to bug out, but I really do gotta go."

"Thanks Doc."

The minute he'd walked out the door, Sam picked Lou up off the couch, and, utterly shocked at the lack of effort it required, took her upstairs and put her in bed. She was dead to the world. He then went to check on his brother. He was grateful to see him sleeping comfortably, considering how he'd been over the last few hours. His body was still hot, but had cooled down considerably, and his shaking had stopped. It amazed him that big, bad, Dean Winchester could be taken down so easily by bacteria. God really did have a sense of humor, didn't she? (God had to be a woman, who else would pick on Dean so much?)

With nothing else to do, Sam just went back upstairs, dropped onto the couch, and closed his eyes. Yet another long day in the life of Sam Winchester, where every day was an adventure. The ringing of the doorbell was an unwelcome sound. Sam just wanted to be alone right now. He opened the door, dropped his head, and just stared at the tall, dark haired beauty in front of him. She had long, sleek hair and deep, dark eyes. Her skin was a flawless creamy ivory. She wore no makeup, she didn't need to. She was stunning just the way she was.

"Excuse me, may I come in?" She spoke to him, but he still couldn't break his gaze from her. "Hello, earth to tall, freaky guy. Are you in there?"

That finally got Sam's attention. "Oh, sorry, are you Alex?"

"That'd be me, and you are?"

"Sam. Nice to meet you."

"Hi Sam Nicetomeetyou. You a friend of Lou?"

"You could say that. Known each other since we were kids. My brother got sick, so we kinda ended up making a surprise visit."

"Sorry to hear that. He ok?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping downstairs. And Lou's sleeping upstairs. I guess you want to come in, huh?"

"I think I already asked that. That'd be why I'm here, thanks."

Sam was making a total ass out of himself, but he just couldn't seem to stop. He was tongue tied, nervous, and his hands were sweating. He couldn't stop staring at Alex, there was just something about her, something alluring, something he couldn't put his finger on, but he knew he'd like to try.

"Mind if I go check in on the patient? I already got the briefing from Dr. Scott, so you can spare me the details. Then, I'll check on the pseudo-patient upstairs."

"Knock yourself out. I'll just wait here."

"Good idea, thanks."

She headed down to the basement, spent a few minutes there, then went straight upstairs, closing the door to Lou's room without saying a word. She was up there much longer, long enough for Sam to wonder what she was doing. He was about to head up when she came down, with a look of exasperation on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Yes. Dr. Scott told me she hasn't eaten all day, and trying to get her to is like asking a politician to tell the truth. Impossible. She just keeps telling me to leave her alone and let her sleep."

"She has had a pretty stressful day. I'm sure that's because of us. Dean has that effect on people for some reason." Sam kept the details of today to himself, although he suspected she may already know.

"Stressful is not an excuse. She does this all the time, and it's getting pretty frustrating. I've never met someone as stubborn as her."

"Wait until you meet Dean."

"Doesn't sound like I want to. I don't think I can handle two obstinate people at the same time. One's enough."

"You know her pretty well, huh?"

"Well enough. I've only been here four months, but I learn fast. Fast enough to know not to piss her off."

"You've only know her four months? And you come all the way out here help her out?"

"She saved my ass once, it's the least I can do. Besides, it's a little like babysitting, only no baby. I don't mind, really."

"I think it's great. Most people wouldn't do that."

"Most people suck. That's just how life is. Listen, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go crash out for little while. I just pulled a double at the hospital, and I'm exhausted. You got a preference to a room upstairs?"

'_Yeah, whichever one you're in'_ Sam thought. "No, you take one, I'll take the other. Doesn't matter to me."

"Fine, I got the little one. If you're still here, I guess I'll see you later."

"Oh, I'll be here," Sam whispered.

The house was silent. It should be at four in the morning. The dark shadow crept silently into the bedroom, blanketing what little moonlight shone in through the window. It leaned over the bed, placing a hand over the sleeping woman's chest. She stirred slightly in her sleep, until the other hand found its way over her forehead. Then it started to draw what little energy she had left out of her. It knew she would soon be an empty husk, but she'd had so much to begin with, and it was so sweet, it couldn't help itself. She was a wealth of fuel for it, and it intended on taking every drop before it moved on.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Something was pulling Sam from the deep sleep he had fallen into. He couldn't quite remember where he was, but the aroma around him gave off a warm, comfortable, and very familiar feeling. He was having a hard time placing it, so he forced his brain to drift closer to consciousness. When he did, he knew what it was. It was the sweet scent of apple-cinnamon. The he remembered where he was. It was the candles Lou burned when she cooked, to keep the smell out of the house. That meant she was up. And cooking?

He had never made it upstairs the night before. He crashed on the couch sometime during the night, not really wanting to put the effort into going to bed. He was quite comfortable where he was, so he decided to just stay there.

It didn't take him long to wander into the kitchen once he came fully to his senses. He just followed the scent like a bloodhound. Beyond the apple-cinnamon, he was bombarded with the unmistakable smell of bacon, eggs, and everyone's favorite, fresh coffee.

"Good morning Sam. You sleep well? Have some coffee, it's fresh," Lou stated rather cheerily.

"Why are you up making breakfast? It's like, 6 a.m.," Sam suspiciously questioned.

"Are you complaining? I suddenly have a houseful of people, so it's the least I could do."

"Two people isn't a houseful Lou, and I seriously doubt Dean will be eating a whole lot this morning. That leaves me, and I don't think I can eat all that by myself. You have enough there to feed a football team."

"You forgot about Alex, and Dan came back sometime during the night. That makes a houseful," she informed him before returning to her pan of eggs frying on the stove.

"I guess you'll be joining us for breakfast then? Isn't it rude for the chef not to eat her own cooking?" Sam pushed, eyeing her curiously. She didn't look any better then she had the night before and he was trying to figure out what was keeping her on her feet.

"Hey Sam, why don't you go check on your brother while I finish up here? Maybe ten more minutes, OK?" She ignored his question, turning her back to him and tossing more bread in the toaster.

"Good way to change the subject." Sam gave her his saddest frownie face when she tossed him an irritated look. It didn't work on her like it worked on Dean. On her, it had no effect at all.

"Please Sam. He should be waking up soon and I really want to know how he feels."

"Fine, but if you don't eat, I won't eat."

"Don't act like you're five Sam. Now go and check on Dean, please," she ordered more than asked.

Sam did as he was told, taking the trip downstairs as requested. Dean was still sleeping, but not the semi-comatose slumber he'd been in the night before. He looked like he was on the verge of opening his eyes any second, he just needed a little push that Sam was more than willing to give. Gently shaking his brother's arm, he spoke to him inquiringly. "Dean, are you awake?"

"God, I hope not. Please tell me that was all a nightmare last night," Dean nearly begged, his voice still somewhat hoarse and a little pained.

"OK, it was all a nightmare last night. Is that better?" Sam fibbed just to appease his brother.

"Liar. That had to be the worst experience of my life… ever. Why didn't you just shoot me like I asked you to? That would have been more merciful then what they did to me."

"You remember last night? Even after they sedated you?" Sam asked him, rather surprised.

"No amount of sedation could block out those memories out Sam."

"Well, I hope you remember them every time you give me shit for ordering chicken and salad and you order your usual crap."

"Please don't say shit or crap Sam," Dean had to say, the thought of both words conjuring up feelings he's much rather forget right now.

"I hope you're not talking to yourself Sam," she called out as she carried a tray of something down the stairs with her, deciding to join the conversation. She set it down next to Dean, and looked directly into Sam's eyes.

"Sam, your presence is requested upstairs at the table. Your breakfast is getting cold," she informed him matter-of-factly as she pointed up the stairs behind her.

"But…."

"Go. Now. I'm sure Dean doesn't want you here while I examine him, do you Dean?"

"I don't know. Do I need protection from you Dr. Mengele?" Dean asked, shirking away from her slightly.

"Keep talking like that and you might. It wasn't a suggestion Sam. Privacy, please." Without another word, Sam just looked at Dean, shrugged his shoulders, and left as he was ordered, leaving them alone.

"How do you feel this morning?" She asked him curiously, pretty sure he would fill her with a line of bull.

"Like the newbie inmate in cell block H. How do you think I feel?" He somewhat barked, either from irritation or embarrassment.

"You'd feel a lot worse if you'd perforated your bowel or colon, so quit complaining. Now, as honestly as possible, please answer the question. I won't tell Sam, I promise. It'll be our little secret, OK?"

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew it was useless to lie, she'd see right through him. "Better, OK?"

"Do you still have cramps?"

"I'm not a menstrual woman," he remarked, trying to get a rise out of her.

"Dean,"

"Yeah, but I'll live, ok?"

"Are you still nauseous?"

"Maybe a little," he reluctantly admitted to that question as well.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She slid down the blanket covering him, pressing his lower abdomen here and there, feeling around for something he prayed she wouldn't find.

"God Damn, your hands are like ice! You could've warmed them up first, couldn't you?"

"They don't warm up. Lord knows I've tried," she sighed as she continued poking and prodding.

Dean was sure he would have frostbite by the time she pulled the blanket back up, thankfully satisfied with the results. Going over to a cabinet in the corner, she pulled out two bottles and two syringes. Donning a pair of gloves, she filled them both. She shot one into the IV line, and held on to the other one.

"Roll over a little."

"No fucking way. You went the wrong way down a one-way street last night, and it ain't gonna happen again!"

"Dean, I'm a doctor. When you've seen one asshole, you've seen them all. I'm not venturing into forbidden territory anyway, now roll over."

He rolled over as ordered, just enough for her to stick the needle sharply into the fleshy part of his cheek. He finally relaxed when he saw her take off her gloves and throw them into the trash.

"I gave you something to calm your stomach and something for the cramps. If you're a good boy and eat everything I brought down for you, and keep it in your stomach, I may take that IV out tonight. Deal?"

"It's oatmeal. You know I hate oatmeal. And dry toast. And what the hell is that, apple sauce? What am I, three?"

"Sometimes I think you're not even that old." When she answered him, the look on his face was priceless. It would have made a great Mastercard commercial. But he ate it, all of it, and washed it down with the watered-down Gatorade she'd given him.

"Good boy. I'll leave you alone now. I'm sure Sam has been pacing like a caged animal, waiting to talk to you." She stood up to leave, but didn't make it more than two steps. She crumpled to the floor in a small heap.

Dean jerked himself up in his bed, but had no other course of action without ripping the IV line from his arm. "SAM! HELP!"

There was that word again and Sam hated hearing it more and more each and every time. This time though, it had a frantic urgency in it. It was definitely a different call then last time. All three of them jumped from the table, and took off for the basement. Sam was in the lead, Dan and Alex right behind. The second Dean saw Sam, he started demanding some answers.

"What the hell is going on Sam? What's wrong with her? She looks like the second level of death, and she just passed out with no warning, for no reason. Somebody better tell me what's happening!"

Sam ignored his brother's questioning, dropping down at her side, scooping her up off the floor, and held her, not really sure what to do. With her heated body lying limp in his arms, he just carried her upstairs. He laid her down on her bed, covering her with the nearest blanket. She looked emaciated on the enormous bed. By the time he'd gotten back from the bathroom with a cold, wet, washcloth, Alex came in with a bag in hand.

Starting the fluid flow, she just looked at Sam sympathetically. "It's ok Sam. This happens at least once a week. We're used to it now. It'll pass in a day or so."

"This is not ok. This is not normal. This is all wrong."

"No, it's not normal, but until we can diagnose what's causing it, we can't stop it, and she won't cooperate. Our hands are pretty much tied."

"Yeah, well we'll just see about that."

"Dean's a little agitated, well, maybe a lot agitated. I've never heard that many four letter words strung together at one time in my whole life. Dan's trying to explain everything to him now, but I don't really think 

he's listening. Go on, we'll be fine here."

Back in the basement, Sam knew Dean was about -2 seconds away from tearing Dan a new one. Once Dean got going, nothing could stop him, and if Sam didn't intervene, Dan would incur the full wrath of Dean Winchester. And he wasn't even deserving of it.

"Dan, do you think Dean and I could have a moment alone, please?"

"I think that would be a great idea." Dan took Sam's cue and escaped as fast as he could back up the way he had come.

"Sam, this is so fucked up. And it's all my fault. If I'd just kept my big mouth shut…"

"What do you mean it's all your fault? Did that fever really fry your brain, or did you just eat an extra bowl of stupid today?"

"I never should have told her Sam. You heard him. After we left, what she did. She cut everyone off, shut them all out. I know what she was thinking. Don't let anyone get close, then they won't get hurt, or dead. That's how she dealt with it Sam. She put up a good face while we were here, but once we were gone, that was it. I should have known she'd do something like that."

"Dean, how were you supposed to know she'd do something like that?" Sam asked him to explain even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to his question.

"Because it's exactly what I would have done," Dean responded, totally dejectedly. Sam thought about that for a minute. Dean was right, it's exactly what he would have done. In fact, it's exactly what Dean had been doing his entire life.

"That doesn't make it your fault, Dean. None of that matters anyway. We're here now, and need to figure out what we're gonna do about it."

"We're gonna make her get help, even if it means we have to tie her up, throw her in the car, and take her ourselves." Where had Sam heard that before?

Dean spent the day in and out of the waking world, his body trying to catch up with his brain. Every minute he was awake, his brain calculated what to do next. Thinking that hard exhausted his strained body though, causing it to shut itself off to recharge.

Sam spent his day alternating between the two rooms. He'd sit with Dean when he was awake, then sit some more with Lou when Dean was asleep. By eight that evening, he was sick of sitting. He needed some air. Grabbing a beer, he headed outside to the deck. Dan had left, but the lovely Alex remained, and low and behold, she was already out there. The instant Sam sat next to her, his palms started to sweat...again.

"Hi Sam. Everything alright?"

"Yes and no. Dean's a lot better, but I'm really worried about Lou. She's not taking care of herself. We have to do something. I just don't know what."

"You guys seem pretty close. Care to share the story?"

"We grew up together. We're practically family. We're supposed to take care of each other. That's why I can't figure out why she's doing this. Doesn't she know that we need her?"

"Do you tell her that?"

"All the time, at least I do. Dean's not the sentimental type, but she has to know how he feels."

"You and Dean close too?"

"Joined at the hip, you could say. Especially since our Dad died not that long ago."

"I'm sorry. That's a tough thing to get through."

"Tell me about it. What about you, what's your story?"

"Me? I moved here four or five months ago, I forget. She interviewed me for my job here, and made the decision to hire me. Then she stood up for me when I was accused of something I didn't do. Someone was stealing drugs from the hospital pharmacy. I got accused, but she caught the person that was doing it red-handed. She saved my job and my career. I could have lost my license over that, and I didn't even do it. Then this happened. It was a way for me to repay my debt, so to speak."

"She likes helping people. It's just what she does. I wish she'd let people help her once in a while."

"You care about her a lot, don't you? That's really sweet Sam. You seem like a really nice guy." She gently placed a hand over his. It sent an electrical charge through his body, and gave him a familiar feeling he hadn't had in a long time.

"I'm sorry Sam, but I really have to go. I'm on in an hour. Got the all night shift. Dan is on his way here 

now. I think you'll be in good hands. It was really nice talking to you. I'll see you in a couple of days, if you're still here."

"I'm pretty sure we will be." He'd try and make sure he would be, too.

Once she was gone, he'd checked on Dean, who was gently snoring. He'd be out all night, more than likely from the sound of it. He went upstairs, intending on getting some sleep, until he heard the voice from Lou's room.

"God damn it!" Then he heard the splat sound against the wall. Stepping into the room, he saw the contents of the IV bag spread all over the wall.

"Hey, are you awake?"

"Why?"

"I just wanna see how you are."

"Just peachy Sam."

Sam sat down on the side of the bed. "Why'd you do that? Why'd you pull that out and redecorate your walls with it?"

"Because I'm sick of it. I'm just sick and tired of all of it. I wish everyone would just leave me alone."

"Even us?"

"Except you, I guess. How's Dean? I broke my promise to him. I told him I'd take out his IV tonight. I know how much he likes them."

"Doesn't matter, he didn't hold up his end of the deal anyway. And he hasn't tried eating anything else today. He's been sleeping most of the day too, but I guess he needed it."

"He did Sam. And you do too. Why don't you get some sleep?"

She rolled over, curled up with one of the oversized pillows and was back asleep in minutes. Sam laid his head down next to hers, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. He remembered how good it smelled when they were kids, and it hadn't changed one bit. He, too, was asleep in minutes, curled up right beside her. He was blissfully unaware of the set of daggers shooting from the eyes watching him in the doorway. They were Dan's eyes, and they were ready to kill.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean awoke in the dark room, unable to see anything. He was in a pain that could only be quelled in one way. He'd had enough of the IV stuck in his arm and unceremoniously pulled it out, making sure to press a finger over the now oozing hole it left behind. He was disoriented in the dark, and had to find his way by memory alone. He climbed the ramp up, and feeling to his left, finally found the door he was looking for. Groping for the light switch, he kicked open the lid and for the first time in almost two days, pissed like a racehorse. Letting out a satisfied moan, he stood there for what seemed like forever, waiting for everything to make its way out. When he was finally done, he flushed, closed the lid, washed his hands, flipped off the light, and ventured back out into the hallway.

Standing there in the dark trying to get his bearings, he realized two things. One, he was totally naked, and two, he wasn't alone. Being naked wouldn't have bothered him normally, but the hairs standing up on the back of his neck told him he should feel otherwise.

"Who's there?" He asked into the darkness, slowly backing up into the bathroom. The silence that met him made the hairs stand up even straighter. "If that's you Sam, this isn't funny."

"No Dean, it's not Sam." A somewhat growling voice answered as he turned on the light next to him.

When his eyes adjusted, he saw Dan sitting on the couch, obviously stewing about something. He was starting to make Dean feel uncomfortable the way he was glaring at him. Or maybe it was the fact that he knew the doctor a little more intimately then he would have liked. Whatever it was, he wanted out of that room, and fast. And that wasn't a normal feeling for Dean Winchester.

"Hey Dan, you been here long?"

"Long enough."

"Something wrong?" Dean wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Nothing I can't take care of."

"Need any help? Always willing to repay a favor."

"No, I think I got it."

"You seen Sam?"

"Oh, yeah, I've seen Sam. He's upstairs."

"OK, then. Any chance you'd hand me that blanket over there. Wasn't exactly planning on anyone being here when I came up, and I'm not real sure where Sam put our stuff."

Dan balled up the blanket, and approaching the bathroom, shoved it into Dean's face. Then he silently walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

"That was awkward. I hope I'm alone now."

Dean decided that, it being nearly five in the morning, he'd slept enough over the last two days to last him the next two months. He wanted to shower, he wanted to eat, and he wanted to get some fresh air, all in that order. Only problem was, he had no clothes, and had no idea where Sam had put them.

Bedroom being the first obvious place to look, he wrapped himself in the scratchy couch blanket and headed upstairs. Once at the top, he figured the best place to look was in 'their' room. He'd come to think of it as theirs, almost felt like they had a home when they needed it. He peered through the door, seeing it empty. No stuff, no Sam. Checking the closet, he found Sam's bag, but nothing else.

"Ok, Sam's shit is here, where the hell is mine? And where the hell is Sam?" Asking himself the question, he walked across to the other bedroom. That was empty also. Still no gear, still no Sam.

He quietly opened the door to Lou's room. It was dark inside and he had to walk all the way over to the bed before he finally found his brother and when he did, he couldn't help but smile a little. Sam lay on his back, his chin resting on the head pressed against his shoulder. Her left arm was curled between them, with her hand resting under her chin. Her right arm draped over his midsection, she looked like a small, sick child clinging to her comforting parent. And Sam had his right arm curled around her so tight, it looked like he could crush her frail form any second. They looked safe, and secure, and Dean had no intentions of disturbing them. He stood there watching them sleep, wishing for Sam's sake that life could always be that simple. He knew it never would be in the Winchester world though, no matter how much they'd want it to be.

"Dean? What are you doing up?" It was barely a whisper, Sam speaking it just loud enough for Dean to hear it.

Dean crept closer to Sam's side. "Can't sleep anymore, dude. What the hell did you do with my stuff?"

Sam said nothing, just slowly slid off the bed as smoothly as possible, trying his best not to wake Lou with his movement. As tall and gangly as he was, he moved with stealth and grace, never jarring her once. She didn't stir, remaining asleep as Sam and Dean stepped out of the room, closing the door behind.

"Dude, I think that's illegal in all fifty states, well, maybe forty-nine, not to mention just plain wrong."

"Dean, just when I think your mind can't drop any further into the gutter, you go and prove me wrong. Is there no limit to your depravity?"

"Haven't found it yet, but I'll keep looking." He gave Sam a wink with a big grin plastered on his face.

"Who gave you the OK to get out of bed?"

"I did. I've been sleeping for two days, and haven't showered in three. If I don't get cleaned up and get something to eat, I'm gonna get one of the guns and paint the ceiling with my brains."

"Jeez, do you need to be such a drama queen, Lindsay? I'll get your bag, just get in the shower. You are pretty rank, now that you mention it."

"What did you just call me?"

Sam just stuck his hand in Dean's face, silently telling him what he could talk to, stomped down the stairs, and out the front door without saying another word.

"And he calls me a drama queen." Dean huffed as he turned around to hit the shower.

He stepped behind the curtain, not ever bothering to warm up the water first. He just turned it on, and let the cold blast hit him, and by God, it felt good. The water hitting him hard that slowly warmed up the longer he stood in it was like heaven. He was pretty sure he could stand there all day, but frowned a little 

when he realized he had more important things to do, so he just washed his hair, washed himself, and shut off the water.

Wrapping himself in a towel, he had just enough time to get himself covered when Sam barged in without the courtesy of even knocking.

"Dude, personal space. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Do you want your damn bag or not?"

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn't he?"

"Only because someone else woke him up at five a.m. You may have been sleeping for the last two days, but I haven't. And I was sleeping pretty soundly for change."

"Yeah, you looked pretty cozy there too. Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"It called comforting someone when they need it, Dean. You should try it sometime."

"And who was comforting who? I know you're worried Sam. I am too. But we're gonna figure this out. Besides, I've got a plan."

"You've got a plan? Oh, great. This should be good."

Dean's face went from amused to deadly serious in less than the time it took Sam to blink. "You'll see." Taking his bag from Sam, he headed to the bedroom to get dressed. "I'll meet you downstairs."

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Sam had already made coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs by the time Dean came down. He heard Dean say he wanted to eat, but he still didn't look very well. Sam decided he better make something, and keep it light so Dean would keep it in him. Only god knew what his brother would end up scarfing down if left to his own devices.

Shoving a plate in front of Dean as he sat, he looked him dead in the eye and flatly told him, "That's all you get. You keep it down, you can have more later. You probably shouldn't even be out of bed yet. You're still walking hunched over, and your face is still flushed. Damn it Dean, why can't you ever take care of yourself?"

"And deny you the pleasure? Listen to you, you need to stop hanging around her. You're getting pretty damn bossy there, Samantha."

"Dean, I really don't find anything amusing about any of this. If I can't make her listen, at least I'll make you."

Starting in on the plate, Dean just said, "I'm right as rain Sam. Besides, I told you I have a plan. Now pass the coffee if you wanna live to see what my plan is."

"Dean, you can't have coffee yet. It'll irritate your stomach. You can have…"

"Sam, you made it, I smelled it, I have to have it. And if you don't give me it, I will hurt you. My mood is pleasant right now, all things considered, let's just keep it that way, OK?"

"Get it yourself then, I'm not responsible for the consequences." Without any hesitation, Sam started stomping upstairs.

"And wake her up, I told you I have a plan."

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Sam stepped into the bedroom, not really wanting to wake Lou up, but if Dean had a plan, it was inevitable. He knew he'd be a lot kinder then Dean would at the task anyway.

"Lou, wake up. We need to talk to you." He gently shook her shoulder as he spoke.

"Unless you want that arm broken off and shoved up your ass, you better stop it Sam. I don't want to talk now, maybe later. Right now, I'm sleeping. And I plan on doing it all day, thanks."

"No, you need to wake up, now. Dean's on a roll and you know how he gets. So, please, just sit up and get this over with."

"What the hell is he doing up anyway?"

"Because he's Dean. Enough said. Oh look, there's Mr. Personality now."

And there he was too; toting a tray pretty similar to the one he'd been graced with the day before.

"Oh, good. You're awake. I brought you breakfast. Oatmeal, applesauce, and toast. And I even buttered it, the toast I mean."

"You did what?" Sam looked shocked, puzzled, and confused, all at the same time.

"I'm not hungry. Thanks, but no thanks."

"I don't care. You're gonna eat whether you're hungry or not. Now, you're either gonna eat it yourself, or I'll force feed you, you're choice."

"Dean, I don't think…"

Dean cut Sam off with a 'Trust me' wink, and told him, "Give us a minute alone, will you Sammy? This may get a little personal."

"I guess I'll be outside." Sam closed the door behind him, than plastered his ear against it, trying to hear what was going on. He heard an occasional voice, nothing too heated, then nothing much else.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean emerged from the room, every dish empty. Sam was in shocked disbelief.

"Dude, how'd you get her to eat that?"

"I can be pretty persuasive, Sam. Women just can't resist my charm."

"Bullshit, Dean. You begged her, didn't you?"

"I never beg, Sam." Dean's grin got wider with every word he spoke. Showing Sam his weapon of choice against the pigheaded woman, he slid it back into his pocket. "I just called an old friend."

It didn't dawn on Sam immediately, but when it finally hit him upside the head, he couldn't help but smile back. "You didn't?"

"Oh yes, I did. I called Andy. Getting her to eat won't be a problem now."

"That's not playing fair, Dean."

"Who gives a shit about fair?"

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Dean dumped the dirty dishes into the sink, pretty proud of himself for how his morning had gone so far. One problem solved. If Dean told her to eat, she'd eat, no questions asked. And he was pretty sure that was half the battle.

He dropped down onto the couch, figuring he just needed to rest his eyes for a little. He'd only been up a few hours, but he was already exhausted. He also hated to admit it, but Sam had been right about the coffee, he shouldn't have had it. It was burning a hole in his stomach like hot lava flowing from an erupting volcano. And he still had the damn cramps.

Sam's grin didn't last long when he saw the way Dean just flopped onto the couch. He would never say anything, but when it came to pain, Sam really could read him like an open book.

"You want me to get you something?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just gonna relax here for a while."

"Maybe you should go lie down. I think you may still have a fever." Sam tried to put his hand across Dean's head, but Dean was quicker, and slapped it away before Sam could even get close.

"I said I'm good Sam. I'm just tired. Please don't mother hen me, let me enjoy my victory, will ya?"

"You may have won the battle, but we still gotta figure out how to win the war."

"I'm working on it, don't worry."

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It was noon when Lou decided to drag her ass out of bed, and see what was going on downstairs. She'd only heard her door open once since Dean's power trip display earlier, and she didn't even know who it had been. She wondered how long she'd been out of it this time. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. She hated how much whatever it was drained her, and how much closer together they seemed to be happening lately. She thought for sure in the beginning that it would just go away, but 

now, she was starting to think she may need to take Dan up on his offer. She also wondered where the hell he'd gone, too. He usually hovered around her like an eagle waiting to snatch its prey, but she hadn't seen him in, well, since she didn't know what day it was, she really didn't know that either.

She noticed the sleeping form on the couch, covered in a blanket up to the top of its head. Peeling the cover back, her suspicions were confirmed. She knew that lump under the blanket had to be Dean, who else would be sleeping in the middle of the day. He looked like road kill the last time she took a good look at him, now he just looked like shit. She chuckled and actually said out loud, "From road kill to shit, quite an improvement."

She heard light laughter coming from out on the deck and peeked out the window, curious as to who may have been outside. She was pretty sure it was Sam, but unless he'd split into more than one personality, he had to have company. And he did. Alex had apparently decided to drop by for a visit. Sam and Alex seemed to be getting along pretty well, too. She was thankful it was Sam, and not Dean that set sights on Alex. Lou knew what Dean's idea of a relationship was, and if she wanted to stay on Alex's good side, she'd steer her clear of him.

She shuffled into the kitchen, not really sure what she was looking for and finally settling on water after rummaging through the refrigerator. It was the source of life after all. Downing a tall glass, then pouring another, she shuffled back over to Dean, and gave him a gentle shove.

"Hey, you're hogging the couch. Get up you lazy bum. You gonna sleep all day?"

"You're one to talk. I just heard you dragging your ass down here not five minutes ago. Who's the lazy bum?"

"I'd ask you how you feel, but you'd just lie to me, so, guess I'll ask if you're hungry?"

"Depends on what you're cooking."

"I'm thinking grilled cheese and soup."

"Extra cheese and butter? And little oyster crackers?"

"Depends on when the last time you ate without giving it back to the septic community was?"

"This morning, thank-you very much."

"Extra cheese and butter it is then."

"Make enough for four, Sam has company."

"So I heard."

At that moment, Sam and Alex appeared through the door, smiling and giggling like school children. They acted like they'd known each other for years, even after only three days and Dean was not going to be out done by his little brother. Standing up as straight as he could, he made his way over to introduce himself. Sam knew the look in his brother's eyes. He also knew enough about Alex to know what was coming.

"Alex, this is my brother Dean, Dean, this is Alex," Sam shot out first, not even giving Dean a chance to speak.

Alex nodded in Dean's direction. "Nice to finally meet you, Dean. I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe a word he says. So, you a friend of Lou's?"

"You could say that?"

"I guess I need to hang around here a little more often," he smiled that killer Dean Winchester smile, the one that usually made women start taking off their clothes without question. The response wasn't exactly what he'd expected.

"Sweetheart, I've already seen you naked, I don't think it'll happen twice, and I don't think I'll be returning the favor. But nice try though." She gave him a wink, and a smile, then gave Sam one too.

The laughter that broke out in the room from the two people uninvolved in the conversation pretty much said it all and both of them knew they had to mark their calendars. This was the day that Dean Winchester actually got embarrassed. Either that, or his fever suddenly spiked to boil.

"I think I'll go crawl under a rock now, you call me when that lunch is ready, will ya." He plopped back down onto the couch and just pulled the blanket up over his head.

"Come on Dean, don't be a baby, she was just kidding. Don't think I didn't warn her about you." Sam was laughing so hard, he was almost crying.

Dean pulled back the blanket from his head, flipping Sam the universal sign language, and returned to his sulk.

"He'll survive. Not the first time he's been rejected, won't be the last." Lou was still chuckling also, as she continued to cook.

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After a long day of doing pretty much nothing, the day was almost complete. Sam and Alex volunteered to clean up after a late dinner while Dean and Lou vegetated in family room, mindlessly flipping through TV channels. They were both dog tired, but they both felt markedly better. Lou was just about to doze off, when the ringing of the doorbell got all of their attention. It was Lou that got up to answer the door and she was surprised to see Dan on the other side, waiting to be let in.

"Since when do you ring the doorbell? I know you know how to open a door. Grab the handle, turn the knob and push. It's pretty simple. And where have you been lately, anyway?"

"I've been working, where do you think I've been. You look better today. Get some good sleep last night?" The last question was asked with a slight sneer.

"Yeah, I did, and had three squares too, any other questions, Mom?"

"Mind if I crash here, it's late, and I don't feel like driving home now."

"You're always welcome to crash here. You know you don't need to ask. Is something wrong? You seem a little, I don't know, off today."

"I'm fine. Just tired." If only that were true, he thought.

"Me too. I think I'm going to bed. You'll probably have to crash with Sam or Dean though. Alex already had dibs on the little room. Just tell them one of them needs to sleep on the couch, or in the basement. They won't care."

"Yeah, right, the couch. Don't worry, I'll take the basement."

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm sure. Good night Lou."

"I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Do you really want to?"

"What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"Just a question."

"And I don't think it warrants an answer, you should already know." And off she went to her room, closing the door behind her.

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The house was silent, and had been for hours. The moon and stars were blanketed by a thick layer of clouds, making the house pitch black inside. No light penetrated through the windows, no noise broke the silence. Not even crickets chirped tonight. It was like the earth was dead, and so were all that were on it.

The bedroom door slowly swung open, closed, and clicked quietly shut. The figure that had entered slowly and silently made its way to the bed, sitting down on the very edge as not to wake the sleeping woman that laid upon it. Resting a hand softly on her chest, it leeched the newfound energy she had acquired, plus most of whatever else had remained. It just drained her, until it was sure there was almost no more. It was careful not to take it all, not just yet.

"I'm sorry I have to finish with you so abruptly, but you seem so empty, and Sam is so full. I can almost taste his energy already. He will sustain me for a long time to come. I must thank you, I may never need to move on, I may never want to. And maybe when I finish with Sam, I'll take Dean."

It snuck out of the room as silently as it entered, leaving an almost empty shell behind.

The sun was just starting to rise and Dean woke up feeling pretty good. His head didn't hurt, his stomach had finally calmed, and he could stand up almost totally straight. He thought it was going to be a good day and he knew the best way to start it was with a tall, steaming hot, black, cup of coffee. Leaving Sam snoring, which is what probably woke him in the first place, he went down to the kitchen to make it.

Ten minutes later with cup in hand, he ventured out to the deck and hoped he wouldn't regret what he was about to do. Breathing in the crisp morning air, he took the first swallow. It felt like a puffy cloud in the heavens. Every taste bud was aroused by the hot liquid, and they seemed to dance on air. He knew then that it was probably the most perfect thing on earth, well, for that moment, anyway. Staring out into the early morning sky, he thought briefly about how different their lives could have been, had numerous things turned out differently, certain decisions made differently. Then he just shook his head. He figured there was no use crying over spilled milk.

His thoughts were broken when the door opened, and out stepped his brother, mug in hand as well.

"I'll give you some credit bro, you can make a mean cup of coffee. What the hell do you put in it, crack?"

"Dude, you remember that time in Philadelphia, that Starbuck's chick? She told me all the secrets to the perfect cup of coffee. Hell, she'd have told me all the secrets of the universe, if she knew them."

"TMI, Dean. Just take the compliment, and move on, ok?"

"Compliment taken. So, I've been thinking…"

"You really shouldn't do that when you're sick, it comes out all warped and twisted."

"Shut up and listen, Sam. I think…"

The sound of shattering glass stopped Dean's revelation, both brothers returning back inside. Normal people probably wouldn't have given the sound of broken glass a second thought, but they weren't exactly normal.

The smell of coffee had apparently permeated throughout the entire house, because Dan and Alex had made their way into the kitchen as well. Alex was on hands and knees, picking up the shards of coffee mug that had scattered themselves all over the floor when it had fallen from her grasp and while Dean was watching her work, Sam punched him in the shoulder for staring at her obvious attributes.

"Good morning," Sam offered.

"What's so good about it?" Dan retorted.

"Well, we're all breathing, that's a good start," Dean finished.

Noticing Dan holding something in his hands, both boys looked at him quizzically, then at each other. "What's that you got there, Dan?" Dean asked, having a pretty good idea what he was seeing.

"I don't know, I found it in the basement. You got any idea what the hell is? I'd swear it's a Geiger counter, but I've never seen anything like it. And what's with the duct tape on it?"

Dean knew exactly what it was when Dan sported it to the group. He just couldn't figure out how he got a hold of it.

"Watch what happens when I turn it on."

The needle on the hand-held device jumped from left immediately to right in less time than it took to turn the damn thing on. Dean looked at Sam, Sam looked at Dean, and both knew they were in some serious 

trouble when them a realization struck both of them simultaneously. Something was seriously wrong here, and it wasn't natural.

"That's mine, it's a radar detector. It's homemade, haven't got all the bugs out yet," Dean told Dan matter-of-factly. He grabbed it from his hands, shut it off, and tried shoving it in his pocket, only to realize he didn't have any pockets to shove it in. "Been looking for that, thanks Dan. I'm gonna go put it in my bag."

"I think I'm gonna hit the shower." Sam commented, and followed his brother up the stairs. Once they were out of ear shot, Sam grabbed Dean by the arm, "That's your EMF meter, Dean. Where the hell did he get it from?"

"I don't give a shit where he got it Sam, I'm more worried about what happened when he turned it on. It lit up like an f'n Christmas tree. I'm starting to think we may not be dealing with just a physical ailment anymore."

"I'm thinking you may be right."

"Sam, go in there and wake her up, we need to talk to her."

Sam opened the door, and ventured into the room, while Dean hid the meter back in his bag. The next thing he heard made his stomach lurch.

Sam's voice, scared and panicked, "DEAN, GET IN HERE, NOW!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 6

If it hadn't been for the fact that Sam could see the slight rise and fall of her chest, he would have been convinced Lou was dead. Her skin was deathly pale, cold as ice to the touch, and it looked like something had been branded into her chest.

"DEAN, GET IN HERE NOW!" He screamed, and instantly regretted it the second it came out of his mouth. He could only hope Dean was the only one that heard his panicked call.

Dean was in the room almost before Sam got the last word out, the feeling of dread his brother's call had given him progressively rising as he took in the scene that had already terrified Sam.

Sam lifted her head and shoulders, gently cradling her in his lap. As Dean watched him, he gently pulled down the neck of her shirt, only enough to expose the offensive bruising that he'd already found on the soft, white flesh.

"Sam, is that a hand print?"

Shaking his head, he laid a hand atop the repulsive sight, "And it's hot, Dean. Her whole body is ice cold, but this, it's sickeningly hot."

"Sam, we gotta figure this out, and fast. Whatever it is, it's killing her. We gotta get Dan."

Before Dean could make any attempt to leave, Sam wrapped his hand around his wrist, and pulled him back down onto the bed with hard jerk. "NO!" Sam barked at him, horror blanketing his face.

"What the hell do you mean, no? She's dying Sam, and we need him to keep her alive long enough to stop this."

"Dean, how do we know Dan's not the one doing this to her? You saw the way the EMF meter lit up when he turned it on. It went ape-shit."

"Come on Sam, you really think Dr. Doolittle is some evil, life sucking, son-of-a-bitch? That guy probably wouldn't know evil if it bit his face off and spit it right back at him."

"You got any other suggestions. We need to start with the obvious, don't we?"

"The obvious? What about your girlfriend, Alex? Last time I checked, she was standing right there beside us when Dan tripped the switch. You can't rule her out, pretty face or not."

"I know. We need to find out everything we can about the both of them. And I need to start narrowing down what the hell could be doing this."

"Stay here," Dean commanded, leaving and quickly returning with the laptop, and a .45. "You see what you can dig up; I'm gonna go check the two of them out. I'll lock the door behind me, and DO NOT let anyone in here, ANYONE!"

"How the hell am I supposed to keep them out?"

"You'll think of something." Dean gently smacked Sam upside the head, and quickly left, locking the door as promised.

Dean pulled into the hospital parking lot, a chill shooting up his spine when he saw the ominous, white building. It brought back a lot of memories he'd much rather forget. Grabbing one of many fake IDs, he put on his most authoritative face, and sauntered inside, trying to portray nothing but confidence.

The ER was quiet, almost empty. Grabbing the attention of the nurse behind the desk, she peeked up at him over her glasses, and smiled. "Can I help you?"

Reading the name tag, and flashing the older woman his winningest smile, he stated to the nurse, "I sure hope you can, Carol. I'm Detective Rick Deckard, and I was hoping someone could answer a few questions for me regarding a couple of staff members."

"Oh my, are they in trouble?"

"No ma'am, not at all. Just some background questions, that's all. Do you think you could guide me in the right direction?"

"I've been here for twenty years son, if I don't know it, it ain't worth knowing. What do you want to ask?" She stared into his eyes, and winked.

Dean chuckled internally. It was amazing what his smile could get him, when it needed to, even with the older ladies. "What can you tell me about Dr. Dan Scott?"

"Dr. Scott? He's been here for almost fifteen years now. Young punk when he first showed up, but he's mellowed out quite a bit. And he's one hell of a doctor."

Dean pondered that for a minute. He didn't suspect Dan, but he continued anyway. "Notice any 'odd' changes in his behavior lately?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'odd'. Last couple months, he's taken a lot of personal time off, but that's nothing I'd call odd."

"Do you know why he's taken so much time off?"

"Well, I don't know for sure, but I hear the rumors, and have my suspicions."

Another flash of his pearly whites, and he knew he had her hooked, and he just needed to reel her in. "You mind sharing them, Carol? Your suspicions, I mean."

"Well, rumor has it that he has a thing for one of our lady doctors. And since she fell ill, he's been playing knight in shining armor. He spends all his free time looking after her. It's a shame too, after she just kind of kicked him to the curb a few months ago. Guess he thinks he's still got a chance. Love is blind I guess."

'And deaf too,' Dean thought to himself. "Can you tell me when was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, yes. Yesterday. He was here all day. Couldn't tell you when he left though, sorry."

"It's ok, that's not important. What can you tell me about a nurse, name's Alex. Think I her last name is Mora."

"Hmm, haven't seen her in about three months. She was only here a month or so, and then just disappeared. Haven't seen her since. Pretty young thing, dark hair, beautiful dark eyes, right?"

"That's the one."

"Always wondered what happened to her. One day, she just never showed up. We just figured she couldn't handle the place, especially after what happened."  
"What happened?"

"Nothing much, some people thought she was stealing drugs, but she was cleared. In fact, it was that same doctor, the one Dr. Scott pines for, that saved her ass."

"Dr. Carpenter, right?"

"That's right, you know her?"

"You could say that. Thank-you Carol, you've been very helpful."

"Don't mention it sweetheart. Anytime."

Sam had tried, in vain, to warm up Lou's icy body, but to no avail. After pressing a cold cloth against her chest to sooth the heat coming from the hideous blemish that had been left there by God knows what, he'd wrapped her tightly in the blankets that had been strewn all over the bed.

He'd also been searching everywhere for some answers, not coming up with anything substantial. He had a lot of possibilities, but nothing concrete. He was frustrated, and every minute that passed, he got more terrified that they weren't going to be able to find any answers in time. And he prayed Dean was having better luck.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since his brother had left, but he was thankful that neither Dan nor Alex had bothered to come up and check on them. Thankful until he heard the knocking on the door, that is.

"Hey, anyone in there?" Dan called, sounding even more irritated then he was earlier.

Making his way over to the door, Sam opened it, just enough to peek his head out. "Sorry, Dan. We were discussing something personal, and I think it tired her out. She's sleeping now. Maybe she'll be up to more company later."

Dan was obviously pissed off now. "Just let her know Alex and I are leaving. Maybe one of us will come by tomorrow."

"Thanks, I'll tell her. Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

"I just bet you will Sam."

Dan stomped down the stairs, and stormed out the front door. A few seconds later, Sam heard a car peeling out of the driveway, tires screaming against the blacktop, seeming like it couldn't get away from the house fast enough. Thankfully, the house was empty now, just to two of them. Sam sat back down on the bed next to Lou, fearing that if he strayed too far, he wouldn't be able to tell if she died in her sleep or not. Her breathing had gotten stronger over the last couple hours, but she was still transparent white, and deathly frigid.

Sam just sat there, staring into space for only God knew how long, until he was startled by the ringing of his phone. It could only be one person. Flipping it open, he answered his beckoning brother. "Dean, you got anything?"

"Sam……Dan……cemetery……be careful……right there." That was the last thing he heard before the phone cut out. He immediately tried returning the call, only to be dumped straight into voicemail. He could only pray that right there meant Dean was on his way back.

"Sam, is that you?" The voice was barely even a whisper, so quiet, he wasn't sure he'd really even heard it.

"Hey, you're awake?"

"Sam, listen, I think it…" the utterance cut off by a fit of coughing that just wouldn't stop.

"Don't try to talk, just rest. We're gonna fix this, you're gonna be ok."

She tried to catch her breath, but just couldn't seem to make her lungs obey her brain. Sam gently turned her to her side, and rubbed her back, trying to calm her enough to help her breath. And it seemed to work.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried again," Sam, it wants..."

This time, she was interrupted by the noise of the front door slamming open and heavy footsteps pounding their way up the stairs. Sam jumped off the bed, and made his way through the door, fully expecting to see Dean storming up the stairs. But it wasn't Dean, it was Dan. And he had a baseball bat.

Seeing Sam in the hall only fueled his fire, and he took the last four stairs two at a time, swinging the bat as he climbed. Sam would have normally been fast enough to evade the blow; however, he was too stunned at what he was seeing to actually believe it. And when the bat connected, hard, with his left shoulder, it made a sickening crunch.

Grabbing his arm, sure his collarbone was broken; he stumbled back into the bedroom, edging closer to the bed with each step. Drawing the bat back again, he was ready to take another swing, when Sam put a hand up, hoping to stop him.

"What the hell are you doing, Dan?" He hoped to defuse the situation by finding out just what the hell was wrong with him.

"What the hell am I doing, what the hell are you doing? You think I don't see what's going on here? I waited two years for her, playing the good friend, until finally she agreed to start seeing me. Then you two show up. I save her life, but she drops me like a bag of rocks. And you two are always together. Do you think I'm stupid? I saw the two of you sleeping together the other night. I know what's going on. And don't you think she's a little too old for you?"

Sam saw the look of anger on Dan's face, and was starting to get worried that he may start swinging that bat at whoever was closer, and right now, it wasn't him. He slowly circled around Dan, and moved himself out the door, and into the hallway. Dan followed, right behind him. Doctor or no doctor, he actually looked like he could kill Sam.

"Dan, there's nothing like that going on, trust me. We do not have THAT kind of a relationship."

"You're full of shit. I see the way you look at each other, the way you talk to each other, the way you care for each other."

"Dan, if you'll just put the bat down, I can explain everything."

Sam was pretty sure Dan hadn't seen what he saw out of the corner of his eye. In his haste to climb the stairs and beat Sam's head in, he'd left the front door wide open. And he never heard Dean creep inside, watching every move Dan made. Dean knew he had to do something though. He had no way of getting upstairs without passing Dan and Sam, so he went for the direct approach instead.

"Hey Dan," he called from the bottom of the stairs. "Sam may be into a lot of sick and twisted things, but, trust me, incest isn't one of them."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you'll calm down, we'll explain." Sam stated, and trying to use Dan's confusion to his advantage, he lunged for the bat. Dan wasn't as slow as he looked though, and as Sam grabbed it, he ripped it from his hands, causing Sam to lose his balance. Tumbling down all fifteen stairs, he landed in heap at the bottom, blood from his head staining the floor.

"SAM!" Dean shouted.

Dan didn't notice Lou standing directly in front of his face. "What the hell are you doing to my brother, Dan?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dan grabbed Lou by the shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes, his guilt obviously increasing with every glance he took between her in front of him, and Sam at the bottom of the stairs. It took all the energy Lou had to make it out to the hallway, and she'd spent every last ounce of it. It took longer for to sigh to escape her lips then it took for her to go down. Catching her in his arms, she looked up at him, mouthing just one word to Dan.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought, well, it doesn't matter what I thought, does it?"

"Help Sam, please," yet another whisper, before darkness swallowed her whole once again.

Dean was already at Sam's, his shirt bunched up and pressed firmly against his brother's head, trying to stop the bleeding. Dan laid Lou down gently on the floor and made it down the stairs, guilt welling up more and more every step he took bringing him closer to Sam's motionless form. He lay on the floor, arms and legs splayed in all different directions. When Dean saw Dan coming, it took every ounce of self control he had not to knock his head clean off his shoulders.

"Dean, I'm sorry. Please, let me help him."

"I think you've helped him enough, don't you?"

"I overreacted, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. The more I try to get close, the more she just pushes me away. Then Sam comes, and she's like an open book to him. I couldn't stand it anymore."

"You overreacted? You just tried to kill Sam because you thought he was pinching your squeeze. I think overreaction is an understatement. You ever think of joining stalkers anonymous?"

The groan coming from the floor shut them both up instantly. "Could someone help me up please, I think we have bigger fish to fry at the moment. We can save the ass kicking for later."

"Sam? You ok?" Dean asked his brother, trying gingerly to bring him to a sitting position. Seeing Sam's face, he knew he was far from ok.

"If that bat didn't break my collarbone, I'm pretty sure those stairs did. Good thing their carpeted, I think it helped softened the blow."

Sam thought he could almost hear the relief spread across Dean's face. Dropping his now bloody over shirt, Dean slid one arm under Sam's right shoulder, and the other around his waist, and slowly hauled him up off the floor. Sam couldn't suppress the agony in his voice as he finally made it upright, holding his left arm close to his body for its own protection as his shoulder and arm slumped downward at an odd angle. His head wound had thankfully tapered down to a slight ooze; nothing a couple of stitches couldn't take care of.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I never knew you guys were her brothers, she never told me. Why would she keep that a secret? Why does she keep everything a secret lately?"

"Probably to keep you alive, dumbass." Dean mumbled under his breath. Mumble or not, Sam heard it, and if possible, scowled even more.

"Dan, take Sam downstairs and fix him up, we've got work to do."

Dean dictated his instructions and without hesitation, bounded up the stairs, scooped Lou up off the floor, and headed in the same direction. Even carrying the small load, he made it to the basement first. He laid her down on the couch, covering her still frigid form with nearest blanket he could find. Crossing the room in just a few steps, he needed to make it to Sam, needing to know just how badly Dan had damaged his baby brother. Dean was physically exhausted already, and he knew if they were going to finish this tonight, he couldn't do it alone. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was going to need Sam's help.

Dan sat Sam on an exam table, immediately listening to the sounds of breathing from his chest. Satisfied there was no other internal damage, he began testing for any possible nerve damage. All five fingers seemed to be working just fine, and Dan was relatively convinced that there was nothing more than the broken clavicle.

"We really should x-ray this, just to be sure," Dan stated matter-of-factly.

"For what, to tell us what we already know? Unless you can do that here, we don't have time anyway," Dean responded, while examining Sam's head. :"Just give me some sutures and let me sew this up back here. It's not that bad, only a couple should do it."

"Let me anesthetize that for you first, will ya? And what do you mean, you don't have time?" Dan's question initiated Sam's line of questioning now.

"Dean, you know something. What did you find out?" The hope that Dean may have found the answer was almost enough to make Sam forget the pain he was in, until Dan stuck the needle into the broken skin of his scalp.

"Well, I found out for sure it isn't Dan here, but I guess I was wrong figuring we were safe from him."

Dan looked up, not quite sure if or how he should respond to that. Figuring it better to stay silent, he just continued listening to the brothers.

As Dean started stitching, he started telling Sam what he knew. "Dan seems to be a pillar of the medical community around here, but Nurse Alex, she's apparently another story. In fact, when I talked to the very lovely Nancy in the hospital HR department, after speaking to Grandma Carol, she couldn't find any record of an Alex Mora, or Alexandra Mora, or any nurse named Alex/Alexandra on staff there at all. She just showed up for duty one night, worked there about a month, and just disappeared. I figured that to be right around the time Lou started getting sick. I checked Dad's journal for something, anything that can suck energy like that. Besides the shtriga, all I found was some reference to something called a moroi."

"Wait, I came across that online while you were gone. Said something about it being a type of vampiric phantom or ghost that lives in its dead body, but can leave the grave to draw energy from the living. You don't think that's what this is, do you?" The light in Sam's mind started growing brighter with every thought that came through his head.

"Wait until I'm finished, Sam. There's a lot more. I was thinking the same thing, dead but undead, so I hit the local cemeteries. You know, this little shithole town has three cemeteries. There are more dead people here then live ones."

"Dean, please! Get to the point." Sam didn't mean to scream at his brother, but the words came out at the same moment Dan was pushing on the reddish-purple bulge on Sam's upper chest. Dan shook his head, grabbed an ice pack and Ace bandage, and just started wrapping the shoulder and arm up tight. When he was done, Sam looked like he'd just pitched twelve innings in game seven of the World Series.

"Easy, Shirley. Over the last six months, eight people have been buried in this little town. Three of natural causes, three in car accidents. That narrowed it down to two, both of which died violent deaths. Judy Phillips was apparently in her kitchen making dinner when her husband decided a divorce would take too long, and she'd probably get everything anyway. He emptied their bank accounts, and the coroner's report said he stabbed her in the neck, covered her and the kitchen in gasoline, and lit the house up. They still haven't found him yet. And that pretty much rules her out as our culprit."

Tying off the last stitch and turning to face his brother, Dean continued. "That leaves Alexandra Wisniewski."

Dan did interrupt this time. "I remember that story. Young local girl, about twenty-four. Moved away after she received her RN degree in Rockford. Story went she fell into some strange shit, devil worship, I think. Apparently, some of her fellow cult members decided they needed a human sacrifice to bring them closer to whatever it was they worshipped, so they volunteered her. Found her a week after they'd killed her. Her parents still live here in town, had her body brought back here to be buried in the family plot."

"Tell him what he's won, Johnny!" Dean announced. "I went to talk to her parents. Nice people; totally devastated. She was their only child. They can't believe that she'd have gotten into anything like that willingly, considering she'd been raised by a Sunday school teacher. They gave me this nice photo, you know, for the book I'm writing on evil cults in America."

Dean winked as he produced the picture from his back pocket. And there she was, just as stunning in life as she obviously was in death. Sam glanced at it, but couldn't stand to look for more than a few moments at a time. He should have known something was wrong with her, the way it felt when she touched him, the way she made him feel inside. Considering all the physical pain he was in right now, the simple sight of that photo of a dead woman was what sent him over the edge. And when Dean saw his hand fly up to cover his mouth, he knew what was coming. He shoved a trash can under his brother's face just in time to catch last night's dinner.

Dan waited patiently for Sam to compose himself before he started asking his questions. "Could someone tell me what planet you two are actually from, or did you escape from the mental institution together?"

"Dan, there are things out in the world that most people know nothing about, and if they did, they wouldn't believe half of it anyway. Didn't you ever get scared of the things that went bump in the night? I'm telling you, they really were there. They weren't just a figment of your imagination. And some of them feed off the living. They can't let go to the real world, and hold on to it as long as possible. Sam and I here, we fix that."

"So, you're telling me that the two of you are like vampire hunters, and some evil dead thing is sucking the life out of her. And if I believed that, what exactly do you plan on doing about it?"

"Go kill it, what else. It's what we do."

Sam cut in this time, "Dean, if we hadn't been so distracted when we first got here, we may have figured this out a long time ago. Mora, do you know what that means? Moroii are Romanian, but translated into Polish, it's Mora. Damn it, Dean, how could we be so stupid?"

"Sam, how were we supposed to know? If Dr. Venkman hadn't filched the EMF meter from my stuff, we still probably wouldn't know. Guess we owe you thanks for that one."

"But Dean…"

"No buts, Sam. We know what we need to do, we just gotta do it. And we gotta do it before it's too late. That last attack almost killed her. That bitch comes for dinner one more time, we're gonna be salting and burning Lou next."

"Dean, get the laptop. We need to find out how to stop her."

"I already know, Sam. We need to dig her up, remove her heart, and burn it first. Then, we have to burn the body after. First kill the heart, then the soul. Piece of cake."

"Dean, don't say piece of cake. I hate cake. And every time you say that, it's more like a bowl of shit. How the hell am I supposed to help you dig, too? I can't even scratch my nose."

Dean contemplated that comment carefully before responding. Sam would never deny Dean back-up; unless he thought he'd be more of a liability then an asset. Knowing he'd already overdone it today, Dean didn't relish the thought of going it alone. He wasn't sure he could even dig that deep into the ground by himself right now. He had only one other option.

"Well, guess I'll just have to take Dan. How about it, ready for a taste of the real world? You look like you can handle a shovel."

The look of shock on Dan's face was quickly replaced with one of sheer horror. "You want ME to go with you to a cemetery, help you dig up a dead body, cut its heart out, and burn it? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yep, that's what I'm telling you. You're the reason Sam's in this condition anyway, aren't you? If you want to save Lou's life, you better not think too long about your answer."

"Dean, no. You're just asking for trouble if you take him with you. Give me a minute, I'll go. I'll be fine. Let's just get it done."

"No. You're staying here and protecting her. If that thing shows its face, you gotta keep it away for as long as possible. If she senses we're on to her, who knows what she'll do. Besides, I just need Dan for the grunt work anyway. I'll handle the rest myself."

"You guys have totally lost your minds. The only place I'm going is to the phone, and calling the police to tell them there are two crazy grave robbers looking desecrate some young woman's final resting place. You two need to be locked up."

"Good idea Dan, go call the police. Then you'll be arrested for trying to kill Sam, and Lou will be dead by morning. Then the minute they let me out, you'll be dead, because if my sister dies because of you, I won't hesitate to return the favor. I don't usually kill people, but there's a first time for everything."

"Dean, did you just hear what you said?"

"Yeah Sam, I just threatened Dan's life if he doesn't help me. So what?"

"No Dean, you've never actually called her your sister before." Sam had a gnawing feeling in his gut. If Dean unconsciously let that thought slip, he was pretty sure Dean was at his boiling point, and Dan was a dead man already, he just didn't know it yet.

All three men were silenced by sound of shattering glass from across the room. And all three were instantly in front of the source. The lamp on the end table next to the couch had been thrown with just enough force to break it, the attempt at gaining attention finally successful.

"How many times to I have to call your names before you answer me?" Lou's voice was barely audible, the three of them straining to hear it.

"Maybe if you got that big mouth of yours working a little louder, we'd hear you," Dean countered, always relying on his dry humor to get him through impossible situations.

"Dan, listen, everything they've said is true. If you don't believe them, believe me. And believe this."

Pulling down her shirt, she showed Dan the evidence that had been left behind. He put a hand over it, repulsed by the heat emitting from it when the rest of her body was so cold. And he knew it wasn't a natural feeling. He realized that maybe, Sam and Dean were right.

"OK, I'll help. What do you want me to do?"


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I wrote this story so long ago, I almost forgot it was half posted over here too. Sorry it's so choppy but as I already stated, it was the second story I ever wrote. Sorry for all the god-awful errors in it too. Someday I'm going to fix the, honestly!_

Chapter 9

"Dan, you're gonna get a crash course in the Winchester family business. But first, we have to get them upstairs. Sam, you two are camping out in that bedroom until we get back. I'll salt the windows, but you'll need to salt the door when we leave. Do you think you can fire the shotgun? I got a feeling you're gonna need it."

"Give me the sawed off, I should be able to shoot it. Thank god I'm not a lefty," Sam obviously directed the last part of that comment to Dan, along with the dirty look that went with it.

"Can you walk up stairs Sam, or do you need me to carry you?"

Flipping his brother the bird was probably answer enough, but Sam vocalized his annoyance anyway. "No Dean, I think I can walk."

"Then why aren't you doing it yet? Let's go. We don't have all day. Dan, take her upstairs with Sam."

"SHE is quite capable of walking on her own. I'm not an invalid. I'm sick of people trying to take care of me. It's what got me into this mess in the first place, isn't it?"

"No, you got yourself into this, that bitch just took advantage of it. You opened the door, she just stepped right in. And your stubborn attitude almost got you killed. How the hell do I put up with you two anyway?" Sam's tone expressed only the slightest hint of the anger he was feeling.

Dean just smiled at him, "Because you have to. Besides, who else would be there to drive you crazy?"

"With you driving, it's gonna be a real short trip."

"Today ladies," Lou stated as she struggled to get up. The determination she had was enough to move her up and out of the room.

Sam followed rather slowly with Dean right behind him. They all headed up, Sam and Lou to the upstairs, Dean off to the kitchen, Dan just looking lost, and not knowing where to go. He decided he better follow Lou and Sam, help get Sam situated. It was his fault, after all, that Sam was in the condition he was in right now. He just couldn't help but wonder what was in store for him for the rest of the evening.

The climb up the stairs was slow, Dean finding what he'd been looking for and making it to the staircase with them only half way up. Dean wasn't moving quite so fast either. He was bordering on exhausted, his stomach was starting to cramp again, and he was sweating way too much. He was also getting angry with himself, knowing he didn't have time to be sick anymore. Not with Sam being of little, or no help to him.

"Can we move it a little faster please? I'd like to get this done and be home in time for dinner."

"Dinner? Who the hell do you think is cooking you dinner? You better bring a wife home with you, or you ain't getting it," Lou snapped back.

"If she's anything like you, kill me now."

"If she's anything like me, she probably will."

The bedroom was a welcome sight, Lou dropping onto the bed the second she'd gotten close enough to it. Sam crossed to the other side, sitting next to her, trying to get her comfortable and cover her with the blankets that had been strewn everywhere.

Slapping Sam's hand, she ordered him, "Stop fussing. You're not my mother, and I'm not playing victim anymore. Dean, hand over that gun, and get moving. The sooner this is over, the better."

Dean tossed their sawed off shotgun and a box of rounds on the bed, not really sure if the semi-crazed woman in front of him should have a weapon. Not that she didn't know how to use it, but she might use it unnecessarily. He didn't have to worry about it though, because even though Sam was half immobilized, he was still faster than her. He had the gun in his hand before she even had a chance to reach for it. He awkwardly loaded it, and laid it across his lap.

"I'll hold on to this, thank-you. You don't need to be shooting up your house, or me, accidentally. You'll probably be back asleep before Dean's even out the door anyway. Wouldn't do any good in the hands of an unconscious person, would it."

"Yeah, and I can tell you, being shot up by rock salt is not my idea of a good time. Think I'd rather have another bout of that food poisoning, or maybe a root canal."

"Dean! Do we really need to rehash that right now?"

The look conveyed displaying nothing but innocence, Dean stated matter-of-factly, "What? Just stating the facts, little brother. Rock salt burns, like hell fire. That's all."

Dean wasted no time placing lines of salt across all three windows in the bedroom. He also lined the bathroom doorway, and laid a ring around the bed. Scanning the room, he couldn't see anywhere else that was vulnerable, and handed Sam the box of salt. Sam's mood was so foul, he wanted to take that little girl's umbrella off the box of salt, and beat her over the head with it. But he just sat it down next to him, and waited for Dean to leave.

"Why are you laying salt everywhere?" Dan was obviously clueless.

"It keeps demons and ghosts away. They can't cross an unbroken line of salt." Dean answered, not really in the mood for stupid questions.

"Why?"

"Who the hell cares why? We gotta get going. The longer we screw around here, the longer that evil piece of shit lives in this world and fucks with my family. The sooner we take it down, the better."

"You were the one giving me the Winchester crash course. Just asking, that's all. Guess that means your name isn't Kilmister, right?"

"Ask later. Right now, we go. Sam, you got it under control here?"

Sam had been right; Lou would be asleep before Dean left, because right now, she already was. Shaking his head at his brother, Sam showed off his shotgun, box of salt, and half-dead sister next to him.

"Yeah Dean, I got it totally under control here. Go kick some life-sucking ass, will ya. And bring back a pizza while you're at it."

"Bite me, Sam. Keep her safe. Salt that door, we'll be back."

Without another word, Dean left, with Dan right behind. Sam rose up from the bed, closed the door, and laid a heavy line of salt in front of it. He could only pray that he'd laid enough.

Down in the Impala, Dean took his usual place in the driver's seat. He was slightly unnerved by the fact that his shotgun was not the familiar face of his brother, but the doctor that had way too much intimate knowledge of Dean's sensitive body parts. He knew he'd have to get over that really quick, if that was at all possible. There was just something unnatural about the whole situation that made Dean cringe. Men weren't meant to be that close, were they?

Dan safely sitting next to him, he started the engine, and gunned it up the driveway. Turning onto the road, he headed in the direction of the cemetery. He was not looking forward to the task at hand. Salt and burns were one thing, but actually cutting out the heart of a corpse and burning it first was another. He figured he could always make Dan do it; he was a doctor after all.

"Dan, I need to explain to you what we need to do. First things first, we need to dig that body up. I know how crazy that sounds to you, but believe me, Sam and I have done it more times then you've seen the common cold. Then, we need to cut the heart out. I'm sure that sounds crazy too, but it's the only way to separate the spirit from the body. Once we burn the heart, we need to burn the rest of the body. That will pretty much guarantee that the spirit has nowhere else to go. Legend says that once that's done, any unused energy she's sucked from her victim will be returned. Hopefully, that will be enough. I can't believe that Lou's held out as long as she has."

"It must be in her genes. We couldn't believe you lived, and yet, here you are, walking and talking. I've known her for a couple of years now, why didn't she ever tell me she had two brothers? Especially when you were so close to death the last time you were here. What's the big secret?"

"It's way too long of a story to explain right now. If she wants to tell you, maybe she will. I bet she's gonna be pretty pissed at you for trying to kill Sam. Believe me, when she's pissed at you, she won't get over it anytime soon. You're just gonna have to ride that storm out on your own."

"Thanks. And I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt Sam. I don't know what came over me, and I can't believe what I did. She is just so frustrating sometimes."

"Tell me about it. At least Sam and I can take off anytime. You're stuck with her."

"I like being stuck with her. Wish she felt the same way."

"She probably does, she just won't tell you. She has had a lot of really shitty things happen to her in her life, and shutting people out is just the Winchester way. You gotta be persistent, break her down. She'll wake up someday."

"I doubt it. I'll try though, assuming I have your permission."

"Dude, you helped save my life twice. You're like gold to me. Sammy, he's another story. You played Barry Bonds on him, I don't know if he'll be so forgiving. You can try though. It couldn't hurt."

Pulling up to the cemetery front gates ended any more conversation they may have had. Dean got out, popped open the trunk, and pulled out two shovels. He also grabbed another shotgun, rock salt rounds, a pretty big can of salt, and the biggest, sharpest knife he had. Dan stared in awe at the contents of Dean's trunk.

"You know, if anyone else saw your trunk, they'd swear you were some sadomasochistic serial killer on the prowl."

"Good thing you know better, isn't it?"

Dean stuffed all the items he'd already selected into a bag, closed the trunk, and proceeded to jump the small fence that surrounded the cemetery. Dan was right behind, not wanting to piss off a second, or third, Winchester in one night. Dean located the gravesite easily, and pulling out a shovel for him and one for Dan, they both started digging.

Dean's digging went slowly, as the pain he was in increased with just about every movement. Dan continued digging at a steady pace, not wanting to waste any time. Dean's condition didn't go unnoticed by Dan either.

"You're not feeling very well, are you?"

"I'm fine. Let's just keep digging."

"You're not fine. It's only been a few days, and you were pretty sick. I can see you are still in pain, and I know you still have a low grade fever. I am a doctor, you know."

"Yeah, well, we have more important things to worry about right now, don't we? I'll feel a lot better when we get this done. Then I'll drop and sleep for a couple days, ok Doc."

"Fine by me, I don't think I really want the whole Winchester clan pissed at me right now, anyway."

"Good, then just dig."

The bedroom was quiet, the only sound coming from Lou's breathing. Sam sat up in the bed, shotgun in his lap, listening and waiting. They'd done a minimal amount of research, and he wasn't even sure if salt lines were of any protection against what they were up against. He'd tried searching more information, but came up with nothing. He was also in enough pain to want to sit in one place, and just stare into space for the rest of the night.

Lou's stirring broke him from his slightly self pitying thoughts. "Sam, I need to get up."

"No you don't. You need to stay right here."

"No Sam, you don't understand. I NEED to get up."

"OH, right. Do you need help?"

"Not since I was two, thanks. Just help me up, I can do the rest."

Sam got up, and crossed to the other side of the bed, grabbing Lou by the hand and pulling her upright enough for her to stand. She walked towards the bathroom, slowly and unsteadily. Once inside, she closed the door behind her. Sam yelled at her the instant the door shut.

"DO NOT LOCK THAT DOOR!"

"Yes mother," came back from the other room, through the closed door.

She was in there for what seemed like an eternity. Sam couldn't help but feel that something was seriously wrong. He crossed the room to the bathroom door, and gently knocked on it. Nothing. His only response was silence. He pounded on the door with a little more force. Still, silence. Grabbing hold of the knob, he turned it and forced the door open. The look of shock on his face said it all.

In sight in front of him was one of his worst nightmares. Lou was on the floor, curled up in a small ball, shaking uncontrollably. Alex standing over her, still drinking in what she'd just sucked out of the abused woman laying next to her. Sam raised the shotgun, pointed it directly at her, and seethed through his teeth.

"How the hell did you get in there?"

"Well Sam, your brother's smart, salting the doorway, but he seems to have forgotten the bathroom window. Makes it pretty easy to get in when he's so neglectful. All I had to do was wait. I figured one of you would need to heed the call of nature sometime. Now, you know, if you want to save her, you are going to have to come in here at and get her. I don't think she can make it out there on her own."

Sam didn't hesitate, he just fired. The round of salt hit Alex square in the chest, sending her reeling backwards. But it wasn't enough, and she was on her feet in a matter of seconds, heading straight for Lou. Placing her hand over Lou's chest, she laid down her threat.

"You either come here and save her, or I'll kill her right now. The choice is yours."

And Sam knew he had no other choice. Crossing the salt line, he entered the bathroom. Alex was on him the second he came through the door, greedy hands on his chest, sucking as much from him as she could. Sam just dropped to the floor next to Lou, both of them lying in a heap.


End file.

Supernatural, Hurt-Comfort