Title: No Turning Back

Characters: Dean, Sam, Dr. Lee and Sarge (from the episode)

Rating: R to be safe

Prompt: 2.09- "Croatoan"

Word Count: 4,016 words

Disclaimer: I don't own them unfortunately. Just using them to keep us warm and our Thursdays super over this long, cold, and lonely hiatus.

Warning: goes AU after Sam gets infected, angsty!Dean, hurt!Sam

Summary: Dean fingered the Glock tucked in the back of his jeans but just the thought of plugging his brother, his brother who was currently unconscious and looking so innocent, made him nauseous. Instead, Dean picked up his chair and moved it outside the door.


It happened so fast. One minute he was standing in the supply room and the next he was being attacked by Pam. She came barreling at him like a freight train, just as fast and twice as heavy. Sam went flying to the floor, shock paralyzing his limbs as she ripped open his shirt and gouged his chest open with a scalpel.

The second she set the scalpel to her own palm, Sam knew exactly what she was doing. He yelled out in fear as he wrestled with her. But she had been infected with demon blood that was now pumping furiously through her veins, making her stronger than him. Sam couldn't fight her off, no matter how hard he tried.

She laid her bleeding palm against his chest and grinned in triumph as the blood passed between them. Sam felt fire then, racing through his veins, making his heart beat faster. All sound dulled out and his vision blackened until all he could focus on was the burn as it swept through his body and consumed him. Everything else ceased to exist for a moment before it smoldered down to an ember and the rest of his senses came flooding back, leaving him panting and confused on the floor.

He heard the sharp crack of a gun a split-second before Pam's body jerked violently. Crack, jerk. Crack, jerk. Crack, jerk. Three times before her body was slumping over to the floor revealing his rescuer.

Dean.

Sam reached his hand up to his brother, searching, pleading for his help. And Dean looked like he was going to … until he saw the blood. Then he hesitated. Fear darkened his eyes and his hands trembled at his sides.

"Dean-" Sam began to plead but was cut off.

"He's infected." Sarge stated simply, bringing his rifle closer to his body protectively; like he expected Sam to jump off the floor and suddenly go homicidal.

The silence hung heavily in the air for a moment while Dean was weighted with indecision. It was almost as if … Sam swallowed convulsively, lowering his hand back down to his side. Dean was afraid of him. Just the thought of his brother turning into a crazy human killing machine had Dean near quaking.

Sam blinked away the tears in his eyes and pushed himself up off the floor, groaning as the gash pulled and stretched open wider as he moved. Once standing, everyone moved a step back, giving him a wide berth as he exited the small supply room. He cast a despondent look over his shoulder at Dean before heading into the nearest exam room.

When the door creaked open a few minutes later, Sam was surprised to see it was Dean. He turned back to the counter and ripped open another packet of gauze and held it to his bleeding chest. Dean moved up beside him after a moment, pulling open drawers and cabinets until he found a cold pack and some tape.

"Let's take a look at that chest," Dean stated simply. Like nothing had happened. Like he wasn't going to have to ventilate his brother before he turned into a savage monster.

Sam just nodded, not having the energy to argue at the moment. He settled himself on the table and shrugged out of his jacket and shirts. He looked up at Dean then, waiting for him. But Dean was frozen, staring at the bloody bandages he held to his chest. Sam shook his head slightly in sorrow and peeled away the bandage revealing the wound.

"Wow, got ya good," Dean murmured, snapping back to himself and stepping closer to Sam. He wiped away the blood that continued to seep out of it, trying to get a better look. If he was freaking out being in such close proximity, Sam couldn't see any signs. Dean just poked and prodded the edges lightly before laying fresh gauze over it.

"Its gonna need some stitches. Bitch cut ya pretty deep." Dean wiped his hands on his jeans, even though they were clean. "I'm gonna go grab the doc. Sit tight." With that, Dean moved quickly out of the room.


"He's my brother!" Dean tugged a hand through his hair and paced back and forth in front of the others.

"He's infected now. There's nothing we can do for him expect put him down. You know that!" Sarge cocked his 9mm as he spoke.

Dean spun around on him so fast, hands fisted in his vest as he threw the other man against the wall. "No one is going to touch him unless I say so. And we sure as hell aren't going to plug him until we know for sure he's infected!" He stepped back and forcefully uncurled his fist from the material of Sarge's shirt and tried to take a deep breath and calm down.

"He needs stitches." He turned towards the doctor. "And we need to get a blood sample. Are you okay to do it?"

Dr. Lee nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yeah. I can do it."

"Good. We get him patched up and then we'll watch him. That's all that matters right now." When it looked like the Sarge was about to argue, Dean cut him off with a glare. "If, and I mean if, he turns, you two will leave and I will take care of it myself. But that is only if he turns. You don't like it, you can get the hell out now."

"We're wasting time." The doctor pleaded, stepping in between the two men. "We should get in there and take care of him. It's already been close to an hour."

Dean nodded his assent and walked back down the hallway, only pausing to glare a warning once more in the Sarge's direction before he opened the door.


Sam was still sitting where he was when Dean had left him, tall body hunched in, hand clasp to his bare chest. He briefly looked up when they entered, eyeing each of them before turning back to his inspection of the floor. But in that brief moment Dean had seen the tears that glittered in his eyes, the sorrow and defeat that was eating his brother up inch by inch.

He stalked over to the table confidently, clasping a hand on Sam's shoulder. When Sam looked up confused, Dean gave his brother a wide grin, like they hadn't a care in the world. "Doc here's gonna fix you up quick, okay?"

Confused, Sam just nodded his head and watched as the doctor came over with a tourniquet, a syringe, and an empty vial.

"I'm gonna draw some blood to analyze, okay Sam?" She laid a gloved hand on his forearm gently, speaking softly as if she were trying to coax a scared animal.

Sam just nodded, looking away when his blood started to fill up the vial. He knew, logically, that his blood wouldn't look any different to the human eye, but he was still afraid to see it. He didn't want to take the chance and see just how tainted he really was. Sam didn't realize he'd squeezed his eyes shut until Dr. Lee patted his arm gently.

"All done. Now let's see that gash on your chest …" Dr. Lee smiled gently at him as she deftly slid the needle under his skin, numbing it up.

Sam swallowed thickly as his head suddenly felt fuzzy. His limbs felt detached and he could hear the blood pumping through his veins. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Briefly he wondered just what the doctor had given him. He slowly drug his gaze from the needle under his skin up to meet Dean's eyes. But before he could get his brother's attention, his vision darkened and he was lost.


"Sam?" Dean could see the change in his brother immediately. Sam's head dropped even further, his shoulders hunching in more. "Sammy?"

Dr. Lee, looked up at Sam, concern in her eyes as she finished numbing up his chest. Sam's head just lulled there for a moment before he slowly picked it up, eyes searching for Dean in confusion, in fear, before they went blank. Sam's body followed a moment later as he slumped forward onto the doctor.

Dean moved forward immediately, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and hauling him upright. "Sammy! Hey, Sam. Open your eyes." Dean tapped his brother's cheek and watched in relief as his brother's eyes fluttered.

Exhaustion probably, Dean thought. They'd had a hard few months followed by a hard few weeks of hunting non-stop. And it wasn't like today had been a very easy day either. Sam was probably just feeling the effects, the shock of it all, maybe a little blood loss, exhaustion; it was all just a little too much for his brother's body to handle.

But his relief was short lived as Sam's eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide and dark, the white of his eyes bloodshot. Sam growled deep in his throat, his lip snarling. That was the only warning he got before Sam's casted arm came up and caught him under the chin, sending him flying backwards with surprising force. Dean collided with a metal cabinet across the room, barely hitting the floor before he was scrambling to his feet.

Sam grabbed a hold of Dr. Lee by the upper arm and pulled her close as he jumped down from the table. She fought him every inch, her much smaller fists pounding desperately against his chest, but they were ineffectual. Sarge pulled out his gun and cocked it, aiming to take the shot.

The retort of the gun was ear-splitting in the tiny, metal filled room. It had everyone freezing. Dean looked up, fearfully. But Sam was still on his feet, having thrown the doctor to the floor and turning away from the Sarge when the bullet was fired. It had hit Sam, slicing through the fleshy part of his shoulder above his collarbone and exiting out the back, but it hadn't slowed him down.

He was now charging at the Sarge, a mutilated scream of rage tearing from his throat. Dean cursed under his breath and mentally apologized to his brother before he kicked his leg out and caught Sam behind the knees.

Sam fell hard, but Dean didn't even give him a chance to get up before he was kicking him, hard, in the middle of the back sending him sprawling face first on the tile floor. Remembering his father's teachings, Dean straddled his little brother's thighs to keep the still. Using one hand, Dean grabbed Sam's good left arm and bent it tight up behind his back while his fisted the other hand in Sam's too long hair.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," he murmured before he pulled Sam's head back and cracked it hard against the floor.

Sam's body instantly went limp, but Dean didn't move. Part of him wasn't sure if Sam was really out or playing opossum. But part of him was shaking too badly to move, horrified at what he'd just done to his little brother.

After a minute, Dean collected himself enough to stand up. "You okay?" he asked, not meeting the doctor's eyes. His gaze was firmly fixed on is brother's prone form on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dr. Lee said, though her voice belied just how far from fine she really was.

"Good. Help me get him up." Dean looked at the Sarge. He could see the defiance burning in the man's eyes, but he just tucked his gun the back of his pants and came over to help Dean.

They got Sam's body back up on the bed where they bound his hands and feet. Once they were sure he was secure, Dean turned back to the doctor. "Stitch up the wound on his chest and check over the other wounds. Drug him if you have to." Then Dean stalked out the door.


Dean wasn't sure how long he stood there, leaning against the window of the clinic. But after a while he heard footsteps and turned to see Dr. Lee coming towards him. Before he could even start to speak, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Physically, he's okay. The bullet wound wasn't that bad. Just a flesh wound, needed a few stitches. Same with the wound on his chest. And he needed a stitch or two for the cut on his forehead. Other than a bad headache and being sore for a while, he's fine."

Dean nodded. "Good. Thank you." Dean went to turn back around towards the window but her hand stopped him.

"It was only an hour. He's reacting differently to the virus than everyone else." When Dean didn't say anything, she pressed on. "He's running a high fever and I know you saw his eyes … it's almost like his body is … rejecting the virus. Trying to get rid of it as it takes over."

Dean snorted. Leave it to his brother to have an adverse reaction to a demonic virus. But instead of commenting, he changed the subject. "You and the Sarge should get out of here. I'll take care of this."

"No. We aren't leaving you, not yet at least."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Dean moved passed her, heading back towards the room where they were keeping Sam. He would see Sam through this or he would die trying.


Sam was out for close to an hour when he woke. Dean had been sitting by his side and watched as his brother's eyes opened and turned pleadingly towards Dean.

"Dean? What's going on? Why am I tied up?!" Sam struggled against the ropes, jerking his arms and legs roughly. "Please. Dean, let me up!"

And if it wasn't for the bloodshot eyes, pupils dark like a demons, Dean would've thought his little brother was back with them.

Dean swallowed roughly and stood up, face emotionless as he picked up the syringe Dr. Lee had left on the counter. He was contemplating knocking Sam out again when Sam started to speak again.

"Why, Dean? Why are you doing this to me?! I didn't do anything wrong. Please, I swear its not in me. Please Dean. Help me!" Sam choked on a sob as he swung his head in his brother's direction. He whimpered in pain as he jerked against the ropes once again. "Please Dean," he whispered.

Sarge and Dr. Lee stood silently by the door; waiting, watching. They had promised not leave Dean yet. Not until he decided what to do. He glanced at them and motioned for them leave the room. Once they were gone, Dean walked back over to the bed, syringe in hand.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I couldn't save you." He slid the needle under Sam's skin and pushed the lever down, the clear liquid vanishing.

"No! Dean! What are you doing?! Please, you need to help me." But Sam's struggles were getting weaker and soon his eyes slipped closed, his body relaxing once again.

Dean fingered the Glock tucked in the back of his jeans but just the thought of plugging his brother, his brother who was currently unconscious and looking so innocent, made him nauseous. Instead, Dean picked up his chair and moved it outside the door.


The sedative didn't work as well the second time. Sam woke up about 45 minutes later screaming at top of his lungs, hysterical. It had taken every ounce of will power Dean possessed not to go charging into that room. Instead he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to block it all out.

Sam thrashed around, screaming like his skin was on fire. He pulled and tugged at the rope binding him until his bare wrists were slick with blood. He kicked and cried and begged and pleaded and sobbed incoherently for two hours before he quieted down.

It was the quiet that bothered Dean the most.


When their father had told him that he might have to kill Sammy, he tried to ignore it. Sam would never turn on him. Sam had too pure of a heart to let evil corrupt it. But now, watching as Sam screamed in raged, bucking against the table, Dean could no longer ignore his father's voice on a continuous loop in the back of his mind.

'I need you to watch out for Sammy. If he turns, you need to take care of it. If Sam becomes evil, you need to kill him.'

Dean had refused to believe that he wouldn't be able to save Sam. He refused to even think about a situation where he would have to kill his little brother, the brother he spent all his life protecting.

He cursed their father up and down for laying this burden on him. But in the end, it didn't matter. His words had still come true and Dean was forced to take action. He highly doubted that this is what his father was talking about, hadn't thought he would have to make this decision so soon.

Yet here he was, standing outside a door while Sam, eyes black and body burning with fever, was taken over by a demonic virus.

He just couldn't take the screaming any more. The begging, the sobbing, the accusing. It was grating on Dean's last nerve. He had to take care of it before Sam got free, before Sam hurt himself even more, before it was too late.

Dean fingered the two bullets before sliding them into place in the cartridge. Two is all it would take. One for Sam. And one for him, because there was no question about it, if Sam was going, Dean would be hot on his heels. Where one Winchester goes, the other follows.

He slid the cartridge into the gun and slipped it in the back of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, Dean opened the door and stepped into the room. Sam was whimpering again, sobbing out unintelligible words as large tears streaked down his fevered pink cheeks. Dean walked straight passed him and picked up the last syringe. Dr. Lee had made sure he'd had the last one ready before leaving them alone. Because there was no way Dean could do what he was about to do with his brother awake and staring up at him, even if his Sam wasn't home anymore.

Uncapping the syringe, Dean was just about to inject Sam when he heard rushed footsteps right before the door burst open. Jerking his head up, Dean met the eyes of Dr. Lee.

"Dean, you need to see this!" Her voice was breathless and rushed, excitement emanated off her in waves.

"Yeah, okay," Dean whispered. He capped the syringe and left it on the counter before following her out, never once looking at Sam.


"The sulfur. It's gone. All of it."

Dr. Lee showed Dean the blood samples of the Tanners'. And sure enough, it was clean. Dean looked up in confusion. "How?"

"I don't know. The virus must run its course then disappear." She smiled excitedly at Dean. "Which means the same should happen to Sam in a few hours."

"Or right now." Sarge finally spoke up. He was leaning over the last microscope holding Sam's blood sample. "The sulfur, its disappearing."

Dean was just about to bend over and look for himself when an ear-piercing scream erupted from down the hallway. Of all the screams and yells and cries Dean had heard all night, this one sounded the most painful, the most … human.

"Sammy," he whispered as he ran down the hallway.

Bursting through the door he watched as Sam's body convulsed on the table, once, twice, three times before finally settling. Blood was seeping from his nose and mouth, the wound on his shoulder and chest bleeding through the bandages. Dean didn't hesitate this time as he rushed over to the table, his fingers searching along the feverish skin for a pulse.

"Dr. Lee!" Dean screamed and he continued to check over Sam. He slowly lifted Sam's eyelids and let out a sigh of relief when he saw them. They were still slightly bloodshot, but his pupils were back to normal, blue-green irises surrounding them. "Oh god, Sammy. You're back."


"Dean?" His felt fuzzy, like he'd taken a hard hit to the head or had been sedated for a while. His limbs felt like lead, too heavy to move. Pain jolted through his shoulder and across his chest with each inhale. "Dean?"

He couldn't open his eyes yet, they were too heavy, but Sam felt a cool hand settle on his forehead a moment before a soft voice spoke. "Yeah Sammy, 'm right here. Settle down and rest."

Sam wanted to nod and drift off back to sleep but he was in too much pain. And it was too hot. He shift on the bed and groaned. He felt Dean's hands as they settled on him once again, one on his chest, the other on top his head.

"Easy, take it easy."

He could hear a door opening and the soft footsteps of someone else approaching. Then another hushed voice spoke. "How's he doing?"

"Waking up I think." Dean's hand stroked his hair for a moment. "You with me Sammy?"

Sam cracked open his eyes and looked up at Dean and the woman standing next to him. He just nodded his head before closing his eyes again. This time, it didn't take much to pull him back under to sleep.


"His fever is still up, but not as high as before. I would expect it though, after all his body's been through. I'd say he's doing pretty good given everything. Just hang in there." Dr. Lee gave Dean a kind smile before she stepped back out of the room.

It had been twelve hours since the sulfur had disappeared from Sam's blood and still his brother was unconscious. Dean looked down at Sam on the bed. His wrists and ankles were wrapped in clean white gauze hiding the damage from the ropes. His chest was spectacularly bruised along with his back, and his forehead sported a good sized lump and some colorful bruising as well. They'd re-stitched the gouge on his chest made by Pam and re-bandaged the bullet would from Sarge.

All in all, Sam was doing pretty well. Except for the fever. It burned all night long, not as high as it had been when he was infected, but still high enough and persistent enough for Dean to worry. So they wiped him down with cool, wet towels and packed him with ice when it spiked, but Dr. Lee was confident it would go down in a matter of time, once he was rested and feeling better.

Sam had woken up once or twice and had been coherent enough to talk to Dean. Or in this case, coherent enough to listen while Dean explained all that had happened. Sam couldn't remember a thing. Not even his vision. It was all a big, terrible blank. Or as Dean thought of it, a big wonderful blank.

He was glad Sam didn't remember what had happened here, how many people they were forced to kill. And for what? They still didn't know. He was glad Sam didn't remember being attacked by Pam or hulking out and trying to kill them. He was glad Sam didn't remember any of it.

He hated to fill in the details, but knew Sam deserved to know. And looking at his baby brother now, Dean made a decision. They would take a little time off and live life for a while. Maybe pack a cooler and go fishing or visit tourist traps and national sights. After all they had suffered, after all they sacrificed for the good of the world, they deserved some time to be normal.

Especially if their father's ominous warning came true.

Dean didn't want to burden Sam with it, especially after everything. But maybe, it was time for Sam to learn the truth.


end.

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