A/N: Hey there! Okay, this one has taken me ridiculous long honey, sorry.
This little story is a late Christmas present for the awesome Soncnica! Honey you're so sweet and I'm really happy to have met you here! *smishes you* I hope you like it! ;) (I couldn't get everything you like into it but it's Season 1, we have lots of puking and sweating Sam…. Owkay… that sounds so much worse when I write it down. ^^)
A/N: The hugest thanks to Enkidu07 for beta'ing this. Honey I can't say how happy I am to know you! You rock! *huggles you*
A/N: For the timeline – This story plays during Season 1 after Asylum and Scarecrow but before Faith. So everything before is fair game (though I'm sure everyone has seen these epis by now ;))
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my crazy fantasy. *sighs heavily* But I still can dream. *grins*
A/N: And for all of you who are still waiting for updates of my other stories – I know I'm a cruel person to write all that WIP and I'm really sorry about that. But I can assure you that my muse is still crazy and there will be updates on 'A Storm Is Going To Come', 'Swallow The Knife' and on some of my Drabbles soon. Just stay with me a little longer! *puppy dog eyes*
Okay, enough of my ramblings now. Have fun reading and let me know what you think about it. ^^
I'm Still Running
Sam groaned as his stomach twisted again, his grip on the toilet tightened. Bile burned in the back of his throat. Damn, maybe the Hyote hadn't just grazed him…
Eyes closed he tried to breathe through the wave of nausea.
He could only hope that Dean wouldn't wake up. After nearly killing his brother in that fucking Asylum and letting him almost end up as a human sacrifice to a pagan god the atmosphere between the two of them was still tense. He didn't need to add new fuel into the flames by admitting that he had hidden an injury.
Hyote poison wasn't fatal. He just needed to sleep it off. Maybe with some luck everything would be fine in the morning.
A new wave of nausea washed over him and he started heaving.
Sam didn't know how much time passed until the dry heaving eventually subsided. Exhausted he rested his forehead on his arms, which still had a death grip on the toilet.
His stomach was still doing flip-flops and he could already feel new bile rising in the back of his throat.
So he maybe had underestimated the Hyote's poison a little bit. So much for Winchester luck… It was just a matter of time until Dean would find out.
Sam moaned as his stomach cramped again.
"You're coming down with something?" He heard Dean ask from the now open bathroom door, voice thick with sleep.
Sam was saved from an answer when another wave of nausea hit him and he started vomiting again. There wasn't much left inside his stomach to bring up.
He felt like crap. His head was pounding and he could have sworn it wasn't that cold in here just a minute ago.
He heard Dean rummaging behind him, then he felt a hand on his back.
Sam nodded slightly, not trusting his voice yet. His eyes still closed, head resting on his arm again.
"Come on Sammy, let's get you a little more comfortable." Seconds later he was leaning against the wall next to the toilet, the cold tiles sending shivers through his body. Suddenly it was hard to keep his eyes open.
He must have zoned out for a second. The flushing of the toilet startled him.
"Easy. It's okay." Dean soothed, completely in Big-Brother-Mode now.
A glass of water appeared in front of Sam. "Here, rinse out your mouth with this. It'll help with the taste."
Sam tried to focus on the simple task but the spinning room wasn't really helping his queasy stomach at all.
Leaning back with closed eyes he tried to breathe deep and evenly. He felt Dean's gaze on him, then a cool hand was pressed against his forehead.
"You know if I catchwhatever bug this is I'm so gonna…" The older Winchester said seriously though Sam could hear the concern underneath.
"Hyote." He mumbled, his voice hoarse from the abuse earlier. He felt too miserable to lie any longer.
"Come again." Dean said perplexed, eyeing him closely.
Sam didn't meet his brother's gaze. "The Hyote yesterday, think it did a little more than just graze me."
"It what? Where?"
"My side." Sam muttered, swallowing thickly when his stomach did another flip-flop.
Carefully Dean lifted his damp shirt, revealing three long red gashes on Sam's lower abdomen. The cuts weren't deep enough to require stitches, which was good, but they still looked angry.
"Do you use the herbs to clean it?" Concern was now clearly audible in Dean's voice.
Sam blinked confused. "Herbs?" New shivers ran through him, made his teeth chatter.
"Damnit, Sam," Dean swore with feeling. "Okay, come on, Sasquatch, let's get you back to bed."
Sam slowly shook his head. "I'm good here." And he would have been if it wasn't so damn cold.
"Yeah, I bet. But your bed's still more comfortable." Dean grabbed Sam's arm to help him to his feet. "Come on, a little help here, little brother. You're too big to be carried."
The knot in Dean's stomach tightened. He more carried than dragged Sam back to bed, clearly feeling the heat radiating off of him.
Damn, why didn't Sam tell him that he was injured? But to be honest it wasn't really Sam he was angry with. He should have noticed that something was wrong. Sam had been quieter than usual the whole day, more brooding.
Briefly Dean thought about using that herbal mix but that would be as useful as fighting a Werewolf with a toothpick by now. That stuff only worked on fresh injuries, before the poison had time to kick in.
Hyote poison wasn't fatal but it sure wasn't fun either, Dean knew that from experience. He once got bitten by one of these fuckers. He couldn't remember much, until he had woken up cold and shaking in a bathtub, Dad kneeling next to him.
Concerned, he watched Sam curl into a ball beneath the rough motel sheets, knees drawn up high to his chest, still shivering violently. He buried his head deeper into the pillow though Dean could still hear the muffled moan that escaped his lips.
Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, Dean brushed sweat soaked bangs away from Sam's forehead, still worried about the warmth he could feel there.
He sighed. "You know, the herbs would have saved you from this mess." You could have told me.
"Thought it was jus' a scratch."Came the muffled reply. Sam curled even more into himself.
"Yeah, well, bang up job there, Sammy," Dean said without much heat. Lecturing Sam about this right now wouldn't help anyone. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, tried to brush away the last traces of tiredness.
"I'll get you some Tylenol."
Dean was halfway through the room when he heard Sam's choked "sick". He had barely time to grab the trashcan from the corner and shove it under his brother's face before he started heaving, though there was nothing left inside his stomach that could be brought up.
The dry heaving left the younger Winchester shaken and exhausted. Dean rubbed a hand soothingly up and down Sam's back, mumbling comforting nonsense. He almost had to smile about the familiarity of this situation. Right now it wasn't hard to picture a sick six-year-old Sammy, clinging to him, pleading for his big brother to make everything alright again.
Eventually the heaving eased and Sam sagged back into the bedding, face white as the sheets, breathing fast and labored.
Dean eyed him a moment longer, concern clearly written on his face, before he got rid of the contents of the trashcan.
Minutes later he emerged from the bathroom with three Tylenol, a glass of water and a damp facecloth in his hand.
Sitting down on the bed again he gently shook Sam. "Hey sleeping beauty. No sleeping yet, okay. You need to take these first." Dean shook him again.
Sam moaned softly, eyes slowly fluttering open to mere glassy slits.
"Who else? The Tooth fairy?" Dean joked.
"Don' feel so good." Sam mumbled, eyes drifting shut. He tried to curl into himself again but Dean stopped him.
"Hey, hey, hey, no sleeping yet, Sammy. First take the Tylenol. They should help with the fever and the pain. And you need to drink something. All that puking surely isn't helping to keeping you hydrated. "
"Not thirsty. Tired." Sam blinked slowly and swallowed hard.
"You can go back to sleep in a sec." Dean urged, shaking Sam again lightly.
Eventually Sam accepted the pills and the water. Dean steadied the glass in Sam's shaky grasp before it could drop. He hoped that the water and the pills would stay down.
It didn't take long for Sam to fall into a restless sleep. Dean ran a hand over his face and through his short hair, watching his brother's sleeping form.
The glowing numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand seemed to tease him – not even three a.m. He sighed. This was going to be a long night.
Everything was quiet. The bed underneath him was soft and felt so familiar. The room was filled with the smell of baked cookies and flowers.
Sam sighed contently. He was home.
He was about to drift back to sleep when a drop of something wet and cold landed on his forehead. He tried to brush it away but there was another drop that landed right next to the first.
Slowly he opened his eyes only to stare into Jess's wide-open, accusing eyes, her body pinned to the ceiling.
Flames burst out of her, devouring her, burning her.
"Why Sam? Why do you let it kill me?"
"Jess…" He stumbled away from the bed, feeling dizzy all of the sudden.
Flames were suddenly everywhere, trapped him. He couldn't breathe, the heat almost overwhelming. He was burning alive.
"Sam! Damnit wake up!" Dean was shaking him roughly, trying to free him from whatever hell of a nightmare this was.
The puking had lessened during the last two and a half hours but Sam's fever was still spiking.
He cursed silently. His brother's nightmares were bad as they were but that coupled with a high fever was certainly not a good mix.
Sam was still thrashing wildly on the bed, head lolling from side to side. His eyes moved rapidly under closed lids, beads of sweat ran down his forehead and temples.
"No... mmnooo… Jess…"
"Goddamnit, Sam, wake up!" Dean adopted his father's best drill-sergeant-tone.
It worked, Sam's eyes snapped open but his gaze was still terrified, clouded and unfocused. Dean could tell that he still wasn't really with him.
"Sam!" He moved into his brother's line of vision. "Sammy, come on snap out of it, damnit!"
The younger Winchester gasped, eyes roaming wildly through the room, not sure of his surroundings yet.
"Hey, it's okay. It was just a nightmare. One hell of a nightmare though." Dean soothed, brushing sweat-soaked bangs away from Sam's forehead before rewetting the cloth in the bowl on the nightstand. Damn, the kid was burning up.
Glassy, fever bright eyes finally came to a rest on Dean though the gaze was still slightly distant and confused.
"D'n?" Sam croaked softly, voice raw from all the puking and screaming.
"You with me now?" Dean asked, pressing the cool cloth gently against his brother's hot forehead.
"Dean, we … we can s-save her. " Sam mumbled urgently and tried to sit up.
"Whoa there, Sammy. Hang on a minute." Dean placed a restraining hand on Sam's chest, not liking how easy it was to keep him down.
"We … we jus' need to hurry. I-if we hurry we … can save her. There's gotta be … a way…" Sam was struggling to get up, eyes glazed over and clouded from fever.
"Hey, it's okay, calm down. Shhh." He didn't have to guess who Sam wanted so desperately to save. He couldn't wait to get his hands on this fucking demon that was still destroying their lives.
"N-no, Dean … you don't understand … we … we hafta hurry." Sam said desperately though his struggle was weakening more and more.
"Shhh, it's okay. Everything's going to be alright." Once again Dean moved the rag over Sam's face, ignoring the tight knot in his gut. Since Dad had placed that little bundle into his arms that night his mother died Sam had been job No. 1, and to see him like this was pure torture. He wanted to help him but there were limits even for big brothers.
Sam's struggle lessened even more, his eyes drooping. "D'n!"
"I'm here. Not going anywhere." He reassured gently. "Try to sleep a bit more. I'll wake you if you have another nightmare." He rewetted the facecloth once again and laid it across Sam's forehead. He wondered how much longer this fucking poison would need to run its course.
"She's dead, isn't she? We can't … save her anymore." Sam mumbled brokenly, eyes finally sliding shut.
Dean swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "I wish I could change that, Sammy. I do." He squeezed his brother's shoulder lightly before getting up to get another cup of coffee.
Grey daylight started to seep through the curtains into the room.
Waking up was a slow going process.
The first thing he was aware of was the crushing tiredness that almost pulled him back down into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. Everything felt uncomfortably sticky and a dull headache was pounding in time to his heartbeat.
Sounds werethe next thing he became aware of. He could make out the low murmuring sound of the TV but there was something else. Words were blurring all together into one low noise. He tried to concentrate on it.
Eventually he could separate the words.
"… and man, Jessica, hell, she's so out of your league, Sammy. " A soft chuckle. "I would give a lot of things to see you on your first date though. I bet my money on it that you sure as hell could have used some good advice from the pro here. " Another soft laugh.
Sam tried to open his eyes but they seemed glued together.
He heard Dean clear his throat.
"You know we'll find Dad. He can't ignore us forever." A short pause. "You maybe think that I'm just following orders but I have a mind of my own too, you know. And I know that Dad can be an ass most of the time, but Sammy, he knows what he's doing. We'll find that demon and we'll send this fucker straight back to hell."
Sam heard the soft rustling of cloth as Dean shifted on the chair he was probably sitting on, then a heavy sigh.
"This is stupid – talking to myself. You know I hate this whole monologue-crap. This is fitting more into some cheap Hospital-soap opera… but it somehow seems to calm you."
He heard Dean shifting again, the creaking as a chair was moved.
"You better wake up soon, Sammy, or I might have to dumb your sorry ass into ice water or something like that to wake you from your beauty sleep."
Sam finally managed to open his eyes to tiny slits. The warm evening sunlight that was seeping into the room felt like hundreds of daggers that were boring into his skull.
He couldn't suppress a low moan, his eyes squeezed shut tight again.
"Sammy?" Dean was at his side in an instant, grabbing his arm in a vise-like grip. "Hey, can you hear me?"
Sam blinked again, relieved to find the light hurt less than before. It took him some time but eventually the blurry shape above him morphed into his brother's face.
"Hey." He croaked, voice husky from disuse. His hand moved to the warm cloth on his forehead.
"Hey yourself. Finally decided to join your waiting audience, Samantha?" Dean grinned, relieved. "How're you feeling?"
"Tired but way better than before." Sam slowly removed the cloth just to have it replaced with Dean's cool hand.
"You're still a little warm but the fever should be gone by tomorrow morning." He withdrew his hand and handed Sam a glass of water from the nightstand. "You need to drink after all that puking and the fever." After a moment Dean added "And drink it slowly – small sips. I don't need a repeat of the events earlier."
The cool liquid felt wonderful inside his dry mouth. While slowly drinking Sam eyed Dean thoughtfully. His brother looked tired and exhausted.
"How long was I out?" The younger Winchester asked carefully.
"Half of the night and most of the day." Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly uncomfortable for a second but before Sam could really grasp it, it was gone. "You hungry? We have soup. And I'm starving by the way."
Sam thought about that for a moment. He actually felt a little hungry. "Soup sounds good, I guess."
"Okay, soup it is then." Dean stood up then faced his brother again. "And Sam, if you pull something like this again, I'm so gonna kick your ass."
Thanks for reading! And reviews feed my muse! ;)