Title : running on empty

word count : 1,400

Teen!chester, not Wincest.

Dean:18 Sam:14

This idea came to me during my week of work experience in a ward on a hospital, and when ever I wasn't run off my feet, I was writing it!

Tell me if you think its any good, i've got about half of the second ( and final) chapter planned, just need to finish it and type it up, shouldn't take me to long. It's not going to be long one, and it might have a little kinks that need sorting out, as I typed most of it in the wee hours of yesterday morning. Be gentle!

Sam's head felt like it was repeatedly being hit with a mallet. He could hear his own heart beat, and was fighting the rising nausea. Just walking the fifty feet from the bus stop to their current house was exhausting him, and all day at the local high school he was feeling like death warmed up. By the time he finally managed to stop his hands shaking enough to fit the key in the lock and turn it, he couldn't manage the stairs to reach his bedroom.

John had left for a hunt two days before, and Sam had been worse and worse ever since. He wasn't likely to be back for another couple days, so Dean had gone in to full drill seargent-mode.

He took off his heavily packed tattered backpack and let it fall to the ground with a thump. Dragging himself over to the couch used up the last bit of energy he had. Having skipped breakfast and not even been able to look at his packed lunch that Dean had given him without feeling like he would hurl, he was low on energy already. Within seconds, Sam had fallen asleep, only thankful for the reprieve from feeling like he was about to puke, pass out and die all at the same time.

It was about 2 hours later when Dean strolled in. He had taken a liking to one of the many girls in the small town with tiny miniskirts and low self esteem, coming back after school most days reeking like cheap perfume. Sam had accepted it, it was just part of who Dean was. It didn't mean he had ever liked it. Thats why Dean found it slightly surprising that Sam hadn't offered him a quick remark or sarcastic comment immediatly as he entered the room.

looking over towards the small couch in their living room, Dean saw Sam. His little brother was obviously out of it, limbs spread randomly over the cusions. Kids really growing up, Dean thought. No doubt their father would soon be wanting Sam to take on a bigger role in hunts, wanting him to become the soldier he had already moulded Dean to be. Might as well get him used to it, at least try and soften the blow.

" Up Sammy." Dean almost yelled, giving his sleeping siblings head a small nudge.

" Huh? ... What?" Sam responded slowly, sitting up carefully to face his smirking brother. He rubbed his eyes in a way that Dean had always thought made him look like a toddler again. He had never mentioned this to his father or Sam, knowing that if he did, Sam would stop doing it. Dean enjoyed seeing his little brother look exactly that, little, every now and then instead of the giant he was growing up to be.

" Time for some training little bro. Can't have you getting soft now, can we? Besides, you're the one that's got to keep my ass alive."

Grabbing his sweatshirt, Dean then walked out the house, striding towards the surprisingly large backyard.

Gathering all the strength he had gotten from his nap, Sam rose slowly off the couch and followed his brother out of the house. It was november, and there was a bad chill in the air.

Even though he wa still wearing his thick, long sleaved sweatshirt, Sam sivered in the afternoon air. He walked over to where Dean had stopped, standing next to him.

" Okay. I think we're gona start with some easy stuff. Clean hand to hand combat. No head shots, but pretty much anything else. You know the drill Sammy."

Dean finished, and crouched in to a fighting position. His fists in front of him, his knee's slightly bent to allow him to move quickly to attack or defend himself. He had a small height advantage over Sam, but he knew his brother was quick. With his long arms and legs, Dean was expecting him to use them and strike to make up for this.

" Go on the count of three. One. Two. THREE!"

Immediatly, Dean went for a sharp jab at sams lower back, trying to hit his kidneys. Even feeling like crap, sam still managed to spin and deflect the attack. At his young age, he still had years of training under his belt, but the effort of avoiding Deans attack left him seeing double.

Adjusting his balance, Dean went in for another try. Going for a hard punch to Sams side, Sam wasn't able to move quick enough to avoid the hard hit.

Feeling a blunt explosion of pain in his side, Sam stepped back putting his hands up in surrender. He felt like he had been hit by a truck, then had a house fall on him while his head was repeatedly hit with a hammer. He couldn't handle anymore, but he wasn't going to tell Dean that. His older brother already treated him like a baby, if he told Dean how he was feeling, there would be no end to it.

" Gettin' a little slow there buddy." Dean smirked, patting Sam's shoulder, getting back into a position to fight again.

This time, he had Sam pinned in less than 10 seconds.

" Seriously Sam, whats happening? You're gona get yourself killed if this is the best you can do. I can't always be watching you're every move little man."

Even though Sam was on the floor and close to thowing up, he still managed to roll his eyes at his brother. This wasn't a new topic from both Dean and their father, but it still hurt him deeply. He knew he was the baby of the family, and his father always managed to make him feel like a black dot on the otherwise spotless Winchester name. Dean wasn't as bad, but Sam still felt the familiar ache at not being good enough.

" Okay then, how about a run? Since hand to hand doesn't seem to be an option today."

Grabbing sams hand, he renched him to stand up. Sam swayed a little on his feet, but tried to hide it as much as possible. If Dean saw, he would only tell him off for complaining or making a fuss, tell him to grow up and stop whining Samantha. Sam brushed himself off, trying to keep as much dignity as possible in his current condition.

" So... i'm thinking a couple miles should get you going. Here, round the lake and back. Sound good?"

" Yeah, sounds great Dean." Sam tried to put as much enthusiasm as he could into his voice, making it convincing enough if not sounding a little strangled. He hoped Dean wouldn't notice.

" You sure? You don't sound so good?"

Ah crap. He noticed. " No Dean, i'f fine. Just a little throat tickle, nothing big. You ready to go?"

Dean still wasn't sure. But Sammy would tell him if something was wrong, wouldn't he? God Dean, stop being such a mother-hen Dean. He's grown up, a young man now. Stop babying him.

" Alright then. Go!"

Dean took off at a fast jog pace, and Sam at a slow. He knew he was going to have to take it slow if he was ever going to have a chance of finishing under his own steam. If he didn't, Dean would never shut up about it.

As Dean rounded the bend in the road that would lead them to the lake, Sams motivation was falling. The lake wasn't far from their current house, and Sam would never normally have had trouble running or even sprinting to and around it. But Sam wasn't feeling even close to normal. His hands were clammy, his head was throbbing like never before and his stomach was churning so much he was constantly thinking he was about to throw up.

Three minutes later, and he was practically crawling. He hadn't seen Dean again, and assumed he had reached the thick woodland that bordered the lake. Sam knew he couldn't last much longer.

A few more steps and he was leaning against a large tree, struggling simply to breathe. Just a little break wouldn't hurt. Sam was so tired, and he knew he would feel better after a while. He could catch up to Dean in a minute.

Sam didn't even believe that himself. He slid down the tree, eyes closing. The punding in his head was insane, and he could feel his limbs going numb. With in seconds of hitting the ground, Sam was unconscious, and in dire need of help.