HAPPY THANKSGIVING, Y'ALL!

By the time Sam returned to Dean's side, his brother was lying down, tucked under the blankets and though his eyes were closed, Sam knew he wasn't asleep; his breathing was too labored and his facial muscles, mostly around his eyes and mouth were rigid. He neither moved nor protested when Sam moved the blanket and changed the poultice on his leg then opened a tube, squeezed a generous amount into the palm of his hand and used two fingers to dab its contents on the worst of the rope burns. Dean waited, girding himself to move, to roll over so Sam could get his back but Sam was content to leave that for later, though he did force Dean to raise his arm so he could tend under his arm.

"It can wait." Sam said quietly, taping new gauze pads over the rawest wounds. "You're good." the compress on his leg would hold its heat for an hour or so. "Let go, get some rest."

"Mmmm." Dean rolled his head restlessly on the pillow, lifted it from the fluff that was a sorry excuse for a pillow then let it plop back down. "Ow…..ow….ooooowwww." he moaned pitifully. "Oooeee….uff."

"What hurts?" Sam asked quietly. He'd inspected the object that had been imbedded in his brother's leg and judging by its size, he bet it had stabbed deep. Hell, maybe even to the bone, would account for the 'purple' blood. He had no way of knowing until Cas got there and since obtaining the mark, Dean didn't always feel pain like he used to – or should. Why and how was under research but it was slow going, Sam's time and attention was always diverted.

Sam rubbed his forehead, too tired to think coherently, for right there beside him on the cot, was the reason why that usually happened. Dean took a lot of time and attention and patience. Sam snorted, patting Dean on his good shoulder. He could be hurt worse than he'd let on to Fred and that thought made Sam sick.

Come on Cas, sometime today would be great dude. The thought of dealing with the mark alone scares the hell outta me and I've got enough to worry about. Yeah, you cast, created, whatever, a spell to temporarily curb, curtail, whatever its abilities, limiting its power unless Dean grants it permission to….to…..to…..whatever, but…..but….. …Dean doesn't even know you did that or that I agreed to it. I'm out of my depths here and still drowning.

"It's too soon for more pain meds and you haven't eaten anything." Sam said softly. "More tea will be good for you. You can have as much as you want. Well, not that you want any at all, but unlike aspirin…..."

"Fuck…you…..and your…..fucking tea." Dean choked around a moan. "I'm'k."

Yeah, sure you are, Sam hummed as his knees gave way, you're only saying that 'cause you don't want to upset me. He let his legs fold and gracelessly plopped down on his pile of blankets. He'd been offered a cot, but had declined. They were short and narrow and he knew from past experience he'd be more comfortable on the floor. He'd agreed to take the mattress though, if only for the padding it gave his shoulders from the unforgiving floor.

"You all set in here?" Fred asked. "I'm gonna take you up on your offer and go grab a nap. Will will be on watch should you need anything."

"Yeah, we're good." Sam yawned. "Thanks."

Fred nodded, laid a hand on Sam's shoulder and went off. Sam rubbed his eyes, grateful for the time alone. He made sure Dean was resting comfortably then went down on his side, pulling the blankets up to his ears, prepared for a good, long nap.

He got 20 minutes. Because his name was Sam Winchester and he was blessed with Dean as a brother.

Instead of being tucked up on a too-small cot in the cozy warmth of a protective, if un-preferred tent, he was curled up on the stone floor of an ill-heated church with hee-haws best. Instead of his brother grumbling about storms and tents and camp food, his brother panted and whimpered in pain. Instead of his brother resting easily and recovering at home from the worse concussion ever, he was fighting infection and loss of blood and fussing with a fever. Instead of managing a mere five hour drive home, they were stranded in a mud slide, complete with flood and still raging storm. Instead of being home, where once they got there, Sam was going to lock his brother up in the dungeon until Sam himself declared him hale and hearty, they were stranded with strangers Dean could depend on and whose helped he'd accepted. And Sam didn't like that.

Instead, instead, instead. Only, only, only. If, if, if.

Sam pulled the pillow over his head but one whimper too many had him throwing it aside in resignation. There'd be no immediate sleep for him. He reluctantly climbed from his cozy nest, kicked the blankets aside and resumed his seat in the folding metal chair. Dean quieted, lying still when Sam fussed with the blankets, removing the hot compress and checking the stitches. No, nothing had burst or torn. No bleeding. No red streaks. No oozing of puss or clear liquids. The poultice was doing its job.

He next checked the rope burns under the bandages and the torn skin left open to the air. All looked good there too. He should check Dean's back but he wasn't going to make him move to do so. Aside from the fever, which he again tested by palming Dean's forehead, there didn't seem to be any other source that could be causing Dean's discomfort.

"Sometimes when Bernie's all tired out and sound asleep, his paws move and he whines. My Mom says he's doggy-dreaming and to talk to him. The sound of my voice will calm him down without scaring him." Jamie explained patiently. "And it works."

"What?" Sam growled waspishly. "Why are you in here?" and no, I have no freaking idea what you're going on about.

"Bernie." he hefted the dog in his arms up his chest, as if Sam couldn't already see the fur-ball. "He likes it when I hold him."

"Um-hum." Sam said absently. Yeah, Dean wasn't whining because he was dreaming about milk bones and tennis balls. "Shouldn't you be someplace else?" his eyes fell on the bowl of water sitting abandoned on Fred's vacated chair, a folded cloth next to it. Damn kid had him thinking all kinds of wrong thoughts. 'He seems to like it. Don't know if it does him any good but keeps him quiet', echoed Fred's voice. Really? Truly? Huh. Out of the mouth of babes! No…..just no.

"Jamie, come away from there and leave those poor men alone!" a woman called from the hall, and without another word, Jamie and Bernard returned to the hall. Sam heard her scold him for bothering the poor, injured man as their voices faded away, absorbed into the hum-drum of the noise out in the hall.

"Really Dean?" Sam sighed. "Can't you, you know, just past out like a normal person?" then he choked on a somber laugh. Hadn't he just informed the root-of-all-their-current-problems that Dean wasn't normal? "This what you want?" he dipped and wrung and dabbed and Dean accepted the gesture with a sigh. Sam took heart Dean didn't pull away with a whine or a scowl or a curse. "Yeah, well, don't go get getting used to it." Sam muttered. "You're lucky you're still recovering from a concussion and Maggie's care or I wouldn't do this for you." he rolled his neck muscles, cracking his back by stretching. "And if you remember this, I'll deny it, just so you know."

"Mmm. Hmm. Mummmummmm." Dean murmured. "Eel's 'ood."

And so began Sam's long afternoon vigil; all common sense and rational thought blown straight to hell.

Fairly secure in the knowledge that Dean would live – for Sam was now there to make sure of it until Cas arrived and made it happen – he was left to come to terms that Dean's journey to robust health would be fraught with pain and misery and discomfort and no amount of words or assurances would make that trip any easier. The most he could do was feed Dean pain meds to ease his suffering, comfort him with a touch or a cloth of cool water and apologize for making him drink tea that he hated. Telling himself it was all Dean's fault didn't make him feel any better or make any part of their current situation any easier.

Cas, come on! Sam thought impatiently. I hate seeing him like this, so hurry the fuck up.

The hall full of people safe from a flood and out of danger from the mudslide, all due to Dean did not make Sam feel it had been a fair trade. Sure, they were all fine and in good health but his brother….wasn't. Yeah, yeah, yeah…..blah, blah, blah….sure, they were grateful and it wasn't their fault Dean had taken charge and haired off after a runaway dog and ill-behaved boy, but Sam was still pissed-off Dean had left the camp in the first place.

So, after a bathroom break, he retrieved his boots, took a trip outside to check the water level and the wall, then resumed his bed-side vigil. He napped in the chair, chin in his hands, elbows supported on his knees until Dean stirred or moaned or flailed about then he popped upright and once again, dipped, wrung and dabbed, talking softly while performing the gesture. When he literally could no longer keep his eyes open, he relinquished both his seat and the cloth once again to Fred and lay down with his blankets on the floor next to Dean's cot after giving Fred instructions to change the poultice every hour.

His last conscious thought? Memo: find pillow.

Fred checked Dean's forehead with the back of his hand, tsked and felt first one cheek, then the other. Well, the boy felt cooler and his cheeks weren't as flushed, but his lips were still cracked from dryness. So, okay, fever down and holding steady, but he still appeared in quite a bit of pain.

"Well, least you're quieter." Fred accepted a fresh bowl of water from one of the ladies. "Let's get you even better."

***000***

One moment, Mabel and Millie were alone in the kitchen, the next, a man stood in the doorway. Both let out shrieks of alarm but before the chaos that had erupted upon Sam's arrival could burst out, Castiel waved a hand and the two ladies fell silent. They did arm themselves with a sauce pan and a basket though.

"Not one step closer." Mabel warned. "Who are you?"

"Where did you come from?" Millie added. "How did you get here?"

"I am Castiel and I have come for Dean, so take me to Sam."

"Castiel? Did you say your name was Castiel? Are you Cas?" Gene exclaimed excited, popping up from nowhere. "You are! You're Cas! No way! How did you get here? How? No, really, how?"

"I walked." and indeed, he was rumpled and dirty but upon closer inspection by lantern light, he bore no cuts or scrapes or bruises. "The Winchesters are here, I…"

"How do you know that?" Gene asked bewildered. "How could you possibly know that? How do you know this is the right place? And how did you walk here? It's not possible!"

"I brought them here." Castiel answered. "Well Sam. Dean, I left at the Scout camp. I'm not happy that he left it."

"Sam came in a boat and you walked?" Gene said doubtfully, enthusiasm waning. "And rescue crews haven't come yet? I don't understand." he frowned, his buoyancy curbed. "How? No, really, I mean, how?" he looked around. "Does anyone understand?"

Cas was tired. A feeling he wasn't accustomed to and he was in no mood to appease the curiosity of a bunch of inferior beings. And that was new too, moods. He was moody. What was that about? And what to do about it!

"Can I get you some coffee?" Gloria asked. "Hot tea?"

"I do not require sustenance." Cas replied. "I don't….."

"Cas? Hey! Finally, about time! Took you long enough to get here." Sam was all hugs and back-slapping. Cas wavered under the onslaught and Sam steadied him. "Holy shit Cas, you look like hell."

"I am tired." Cas admitted. "I shall see Dean then get some rest." he paused. "You aren't looking so good yourself Sam."

"Yeah, well. This way." Sam led him into the church. "Wasn't easy getting here, thanks for the help by the way. He's doing okay, but he's been better. See what you think."

"He has given you no trouble then?"

"Hell Cas, he's Dean!"

"Yes, but…."

"Cas, this is Fred." Sam interrupted hastily. "He's been taking care of Dean since he, uh, hurt himself in the river." he shook his head at Fred's astonished, questioning look. "Later Fred, it's a long story and I doubt you'd believe me."

"I doubted Dean when he said you'd come for him." Fred rose to his feet and held his hand out to Cas. "And I doubted you both when you said Cas here, would come next. I don't see how…."

"I certainly understand your confusion." Cas agreed, shaking the man's hand. "See, mentally, I can…."

"Cas? Not now." Sam warned. "What do you think Cas?" he waited impatiently while Cas held a hand to Dean's forehead who swatted at it in irritation. "Cas?"

"I can't heal him completely. I am not strong enough." Cas announced solemnly. "I can either heal the muscle and ligament damage to his leg or heal the wounds to his skin on the surface that will abolish his fever and cause the infection to abate." he moved the poultice and laid his bare hand over the stitches. "The bone is untouched but the object was not carefully removed, therefore there is nerve damage."

Fred gaped; say what to whom about what?

Sam chewed on his lip: Let's see, muscle, tendons, and ligaments – oh my! Oh, and nerves. Permanent damage to any of the three – four – could result in an altered gait, severe limp, chronic pain, require numerous surgeries and months and months of physical therapy. That was all damage and injury Sam could not heal or take care of and no amount of time sitting by his brother's side with a wet cloth would make either one of them feel any better about it.

However, a mere fever, infected stitches and raw rope burns, while painful, were well within his abilities to treat.

"Given my limitations and the extent which his leg needs healing, I'll have to draw on your soul and tap your inner energy for enough strength to heal him." Cas continued. "Then I will need to rest."

"At what cost to you?" Sam sighed, decision made. "Will it be enough?"

"I will likely drain you of your available stamina." Cas ignored him. "You will be weak, tire easily." he warned. "We will have to remain here until the rescue crews arrive." he paused. "I won't be strong enough to get us out of here."

"You can't get help to him here? A chopper or boat to get him to a hospital?"

Cas shook his head. "Getting myself here was a battle I barely won." he motioned to the window that on cue, rattled under an onslaught of furious wind. "She's still having a merry good ole time and humans are no match for her in her current mood."

"Just who is 'she'?" Sam asked suddenly. "There's not really a Mother Nature is there? Just some angel with an inflated sense of self-worth, right?"

"Certainly there is Mother Nature. The seasons are…." Cas began but Sam held a hand up to silence him.

"Yeah, never mind. I don't really want to know." Sam shook his head, always amazed at how easily Cas could be diverted. "There are people here who can help take care of him." he decided. "While not the best accommodations, we are safe here and there's plenty to eat. I have our first aid kit and I'll regain my strength quickly. I only wish food and rest could do the same for you."

"Heal him internally then?" Castiel questioned, ignoring Sam's concern for his own well-being.

Sam was quiet. As much as he wanted his brother free of pain and without fear he'd forever walk with a limp, it wasn't fair to Cas to ask him to weaken himself further, perhaps permanently. Not….if there was perhaps, another way. He was back to chewing on his lip.

"Do you, ah, think, maybe, we should….I mean…..what about…..is it a good idea to, uh, play with the mark? You know, have him grant the mark permission to heal him?"

"No." Cas stated firmly. "I will be fine." he sensed Sam's mounting argument. "We still do not understand the depths of the mark Sam. What little information we've been able to obtain enables him to keep its effects under control. That's all. We shouldn't mess with that."

"Okay, yeah, sure, but…..Cas…..we've played with its abilities before…."

"Each time its powers emerge, he has a harder time regaining control. Now is not the time. Maybe if I weren't here, but I am and I'm willing to do what is necessary to heal him."

"I get his concussion wasn't life threatening and he saw a doctor and had tests, so no huge worry there, it wasn't even necessary to have you heal him. But now…"

"Let me try first Sam. Put the mark out of your mind. If he allows it to have control, there's no telling what he might do."

"I still don't like this." but Sam nodded his capitulation. "I'll find you a place to crash." Castiel, who bore no human illnesses, was grey and shaky. "Don't go being a hero either. Do as much as you can but don't go hurting yourself."

"I cannot fly, therefore I cannot crash."

"Come on." Sam let his lip curl into a grin, good ole Cas, always so literal. "One of the ladies can find you a cot with a blanket while we…uh, while you…..just, come on."

"I do not require a blanket and I wish to remain here in the church. These benches are padded, a pew will do."

"Choose one in the front." Sam advised. "This here is a motley bunch." he gave Fred a wink. "We'll be a few minutes."

"Where can we obtain privacy? Drawing from your soul will be uncomfortable." Castiel said as Sam pushed him along.

"There's a bathroom…come on."

"Are you sure it's ok to leave Dean alone with that man? Sam, I don't think….." he was yanked through the door by the collar of his coat.

Fred shook his head, resumed his seat and wrung out the cloth: youngsters these days.

***000***

If anyone thought it strange two grown men squeezed themselves into the small and only bathroom of the church hall, no one thought to comment on it.

And if more than one person saw a glow of bright white light and felt the entire hall shake, well, they'd say it was lightning and wind from the storm.

And if moments later, those two men emerged from the bathroom, pale and grey and holding onto one another as they stumbled back into the church, everyone would say they were laughing so hard they could barely walk.

For no one – no one – was about to admit that the unearthly light shining through a closed door was unlike anything anyone had ever seen.

***000***

Sam stood side-by-side with Castiel and watched him commence healing. Dean didn't awaken or even stir and though there was no noticeable change in Dean's condition, Sam knew any and all internal lasting damage from both the injury and the ill-advised removal of the imbedded object were safely healed, or soon would be, without complication.

"Thanks Cas. Now come on, let's find you a pew where you'll be comfortable."

Dean wasn't aware of much. Not where he was, how much time had passed, what was going on or why he felt like he did, which was like shit. He slept, he fussed, he dreamed. He floated, he hovered, he existed on a plane between reluctant consciousness and oblivion. Whenever he made the ill-advised attempt to open his eyes and acknowledge the wakeful world, he was greeted with pain and noise and cold air, so he stopped trying.

It might not have been so bad, might all have been tolerable if…only they would leave him alone. Yes, alone. He would be quite fine if everyone went away and left him to deal with his pain and misery and discomfort – alone. But no, no, there was tea and water and chicken noodle soup, less the chicken, minus most noodles – eh?, and juice. Forced to take sips, he dribbled and drooled, wanting nothing to do with swallowing but his chin was wiped clean and the ever patient hands pressed the cup to his lips and a quiet voice coaxed and cajoled and pleaded just to drink a little bit more.

Someone attempted to feed him with a spoon but he was having none of that. Nuh-huh, nope, no way, not gonna happen. Spoon-feeding was for invalids and he was most definitely not an invalid.

He was hot, then cold, sweating, then shivering. There were alternating goose bumps and trickles of sweat. Yeah, did he mention the sweating and shivering? Same thing, right? His head hurt, his eyes hurt, his throat hurt, his chest hurt, his arm, his shoulder, his back – all hurt, his leg….wow…..yeah….ow, his leg. He couldn't lift his head, his arm, his foot or his eyelids….but…

Still. Not. An. Invalid.

He was cold. There was a draft on his shoulder and on one foot and while he wasn't freezing, the room temperature wasn't a comfortable warmth. Why was he cold? He didn't like being cold. Oh right, the river. Yeah, he didn't like cold water either.

He could hear voices, but they were distant and not clear. A dog barked. Nothing to fear and he didn't feel threatened…so, where was he? Why was he there? Who was he with? What had happened? He needed to find out, needed to wake up and….

"Hey, hey…what's the matter? Need you to lie still, okay? You keep moving around and you throw the blankets off then your teeth chatter."

Sam?

"It hurts, I know. Sorry about that, working on it."

Yup, definitely Sam. So, that explained the fucking tea.

"You're cold? Yeah, I know, but…..you sure you want to put a shirt on over those rope burns? I can't bandage them all and you don't like lifting your arm. If you'd stop thrashing about so much, the blankets would stay put and you wouldn't feel the draft. Can move you into the hall, near the wood stove, it's warmer but you won't have any privacy."

What? Oh right, Sam was supposed to have found his clothes. Had he? Uh…..let's see….move a hand, no, still naked.

"Can you sit up? Hey! You dumbass, not by yourself! I'm right here! Let me help you, didn't mean for you to try it on your own."

OW! Jesus Sammy, leave me with two arms! Kinda fond of both, you know? Even though the one is pissing me off right now, I'd rather keep it. And must you chatter so? Silence is golden and all that, you get me?

"Okay, just sit for a minute. Wanna wrap this fleece around you. Wait a minute, since you're up, let me get at those gauges on the back of your shoulder, won't take long."

Sitting up, even with the support of a strong arm, left him short of breath, dizzy and nauseous. By the time the ointment that stung and burned was finished being applied, he was shaking so severely that he didn't object to the one-arm hug that held him close and allowed him to relax against the warmth of a supportive chest, forehead to forehead, as the soft fleece was wrapped around his shoulders, covering his neck up to his ears. He was so busy fighting his stomach that insisted on ridding itself of the offensive tea, that he didn't even complain that he could feel someone's – Sam, for he'd never allow anyone else so close to him – breath on his cheek.

"Okay….going down….easy…..there. Here have some tea."

Yeah, he managed to open his eyes at that suggestion! Sam's blurry image wavered and flickered before sitting still and remaining fuzzy. His stomach rolled, heaved, clenched and bile burned his throat.

"Dude….need a shave." Dean croaked. "Take…that fucking tea and…."

"It's working." Sam said eagerly. "I don't have a thermometer…." oh, he had one, he had several in his handy-dandy trusty first aid kit, but yeah, not trying that while Dean still had the ability to obtain consciousness. "But you've been running a fever and the willow bark tea has….."

"I have a tongue and I can spit." Dean rasped a warning. "No."

"Maybe later then." Sam conceded. "Warm now?"

"Mmm…..hmmmm." he licked his lips, sweat dotting his brow from yet another stomach upheaval. "Ugh." he moaned.

"Here, try this." Millie laid a hand on Sam's shoulder and offered him a mug.

"Thanks, but I try to give him tea…"

"It's not tea." she corrected him gently. "It's hot chocolate. Chocolate is known to soothe upset stomachs."

"Yeah, but….he…has….I mean, just the offer of instant coffee sends him into hysterics."

Millie sniffed. "No self-respecting resident of this town would serve instant hot chocolate. This is made with milk and sugar and semi-sweet morsels with vanilla and marshmallow and a dash of nutmeg. It's warm and creamy and rich with just a hint of peppermint."

Wow, that sounded great! "Do you have enough to spare another mug?" Sam asked wistfully.

"Mabel will be right in with a mug for you." Millie nodded with a smile. "What about your friend Cas?"

"Um, not right now." Sam said quickly. "He's asleep." he took the mug from Millie and sipped, eyes closing as he savored the warm, rich taste of soothing chocolate. Damn, that was good. "Dean, hey, wanna try this?"

"No." he mumbled. "No….tea."

"It's not tea. It's….a hot toddy." Sam casually lied. It was a kind of toddy, just lacked liquor. "You lost blood Dean, you need to drink liquids."

"Do not." Dean muttered. "Don't."

"Yeah, you do. Even after voluntary blood donations, you're required to drink orange juice or soda and eat a donut or a snack. So, come on, man up."

Sam wanted him to donate blood? Dean frowned, mind scrambling to process the words it was hearing. Before their actual meaning could penetrate his fried and frazzled brain, the mug was nudging his lips and his nose was twitching. His lips parted on their own accord and his tongue darted out to taste the tantalizing offering.

"Mmmm." Dean lifted his head, his good hand reaching for the mug. Now this was worth drinking! "Gimme!"

"Stop." his hand was slapped down. "Let me hold it." said Sam as his huge paw cradled and supported Dean's head "That's it….I've got ya."

Once Dean refused more cocoa, Sam drank his own mug, surprised to find his hands were shaking. Ah, right. Cas drawing energy from his soul was finally catching up. As much as he wanted to sit in the chair next to Dean and nurse him through the next several hours, he wasn't going to be able to. He'd have to settle for lying down on his mattress with his blankets next to Dean's cot.

"Don't you be worrying none." Fred said. "He'll know you're nearby."

"He won't care." Sam sighed, sitting down on the mattress. That admission was a testament to how exhausted and drained he was. "Just another day."

"Now that there is just not true." Fred admonished him. "He's much calmer now that you're here. You know what they say, a person is always happier at home and better with those they know. Age of a man doesn't change that. Hurt and sick, what's familiar is comforting."

"That ain't me." Sam laid down, close to the cot but far enough away should Dean open his eyes, he'd see Sam on the floor. "His luck is shit and he ain't got much."

"I'm thinking he sees you as home and he's safe and that's all he needs." Fred said. "He feels better because you're near. No one wants to be alone and everyone wants to be taken care of. See, he…." Fred was rewarded with a snore. Sam had fallen asleep that quickly. "I'd say he's pretty damn lucky." Fred finished with a chuckle. "Lucky he has a brother who will forge a mud slide and brave a storm so fierce rescue crews won't attempt a rescue, to row a boat across a raging river to reach his side just to make sure he's alright and be there with him. Not everyone has that, and he has both you and your friend Cas. I'd say that's a lot."

***000***

Sleep didn't do anything to help Sam feel better. He awoke with a headache, his muscles aching and just rolling over was an effort that left him breathless. Yeah, okay, so Cas hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he'd drain Sam of his stamina.

Sam sat up with a yawn. The chairs near Dean's cot were empty and Dean slept quietly. Huh, how long had Sam been asleep? Couple of hours? Not long enough! He gathered his strength and pushed to his feet, wavering slightly and using Dean's cot to steady his balance. Dean still didn't stir so Sam checked on Cas, who slept like the dead, then went in search of something to eat.

The knowledge Dean would be all right was forgotten; Dean didn't understand the passage of time and Sam was consumed with the guilt there was no way for him to assure his brother his misery and suffering would soon end. Nor did Sam have any real way of knowing he'd made the correct decision to have Cas heal Dean internally, rather than abolish the wound and source of infection.

The rest of the day passed, evening became night. Sam ate and napped. Stressed and worried. Fretted and frowned. Pulled his hair out and chewed his lip bloody. Wrung his hands and cursed his life. Hoped and prayed. Prayed and bargained and made promises. Forced his brother to drink tea and accept being spoon-fed beef broth and tomato soup. Dean tossed and turned but didn't awaken fully. Cas continued to play dead.

Sam was never alone. Fred was always at hand. The ladies popped in and out with coffee and sandwiches. Will reported the water had completely circled the wall but hadn't seeped inside and the wall was holding steady. Gene reported the wind had died down, and the rain had let up and come dawn, they should see rescue crews. Fred calmly, steadily tended both Dean and Sam and chased the well-meaning but over-eager woman way when they tried to linger.

Cas still hadn't moved and Sam, finally feeling better, had taken a walk outside. Maybe he'd been gone longer than he thought, hell, he must have been, for when he returned to the church, he found Dean sitting up with both feet on the floor, wearing a black t-shirt and asking Fred for his pants.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded. "Forget it Dean, you aren't getting up or going anywhere."

"What the fuck's your problem?" Dean asked crossly. "Got a bug up your ass or something?"

"My problem? My problem is you…..BECAUSE I DON'T DARE LET YOU OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Sam exploded, relief and anger warring within and erupting in a fury of hair flinging, hand waving and foot stomping. "I can't BELIEVE you!"

"WHAT? Good grief." Dean blew him off, hunching a shoulder to wipe at his face. "Over react much? God, you're like, hysterical. Calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN? How am I supposed to do that when I send you on a simple errand and you end up in a bar with your fucking BRAINS BASHED IN? You were arrested Dean!" oh, he was wild and crazy now! "I left you in the middle of god-damn no-where where I told you to stay and what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO DEAN? What happened again? Oh right, you nearly drowned, suffocated, bled out, succumbed to infection and required Cas to come and heal you best as he could and you know what? HE AIN'T DOING SO GOOD! He sure as HELL didn't need to drain what strength he has making sure you live long enough to get to a hospital! So DON'T, don't you dare wave this off like it was no big deal! IT WAS! It was a big deal Dean, a very big deal! DO YOU GET THAT? You need to get that!"

Dean just stared.

"He used mental energy to get us to safety, yes it was a camp of tents but we were safe there. But oh no, you just couldn't stay put. He used more to get me here, physical strength to get himself here and pulled on my soul to charge up enough to heal internal damage to your leg! So, YES, yes this is your fault – all your fault – and god dammit Dean…you could have died! Or been maimed for life! You DUMB ass!"

"You done?" Dean growled sarcastically.

"WHY?"

"Cause I'm gonna hurl."

Sam fumed; what was going to win, relief or anger? Neither. Victory to either was denied because it was Fred to the rescue! He gently held Dean's head over a wastecan he'd wedged between Dean's knees, blanket draped across his lap, raising an eyebrow at Sam's hesitation.

"All…..that….." cough, spit, hack. "…..fucking…..tea." Dean groaned pitifully. Remaining hunched over, he moaned his misery. "You know…I…..hate it."

"Yeah, well, that tea brought down your fever and kept you quiet." Sam sniped irritably, standing firm and refusing to be swayed. "Gave me a chance to get some sleep."

"Always…all about you." Dean wiped the back of his hand across this mouth. "Water?"

"How you feeling?" Sam asked grudgingly, still quite miffed. "Cas's done all he can." he poured water from a clear plastic pitcher into a plastic cup. "Where were you going?" he held it out and waited while Dean eyed it warily before reaching to take it.

"Bathroom. Need pants." he swallowed with a wince. He wanted to swish and spit but Fred and the wastecan were gone. "And I feel like shit." well, he felt better, but his body still ached and his leg still hurt and he felt like he'd swam an Olympic race in mud and swallowed a river. Oh, and his stomach was still at odds with the rest of his body and his shoulder and arm still stung and burned but that bone-deep, body thrumming pain was gone. Ah, let's see, what else? His head, his throat, his chest…his pride, he winced at the arrival of one of the twins.

"Here you go!" Mabel sang, waltzing in, waving Dean's boxer-briefs in the air like a flag. "All clean and dry. Well, hand-washed of course, but clean nonetheless." she didn't hold them out or hand them over. No, she held onto them like she was guarding the game trophy from the opposing team's mascot.

"My pants?" Dean waited expectedly but she didn't move. Sam reached for the material made of cotton but she held tight and they engaged in a tug-of-war. She finally relinquished her hold on the prize when Sam tugged so hard she stumbled forward.

She scowled, letting go with a pout. She hadn't really expected Dean to parade through the hall in just a t-shirt, but she would have enjoyed the sight of just her fleece wrapped around his waist.

"I'm going to help you and you're going to let me." Sam said ominously, brow set. He wadded the cloth in one hand and held it out of reach. "You used a coffee can before, can't you…oh."

Dean wavered, weighing his chances of escaping Sam. Yeah, not good. So, he sighed and nodded, letting his head drop and his chin dip to his chest. Sam shooed Mabel back into the hall and squatted down to inspect the stitches.

"Still infected." Sam announced. "But looking better." he poked and pressed. Dean winced and jerked. "Oozing some puss, but no blood and no red streaks going up your leg. Still, I'm going to put you back to bed with more hot poultices."

"Still hurts." Dean shot back. Put him to bed? Really? "Just….not like….before." his sat up straight. Well, he tried, his left shoulder didn't cooperate. "OW!" he reached with his right hand to hold left shoulder but his hand was slapped away.

"Don't touch." Sam scolded. "Put your foot….no, your foot….your other foot…..good god, it's not that hard. You've got two feet Dean, and briefs have two holes. One foot goes in each….no…..hey, I said….."

By the time Sam got Dean's feet through the legs of the briefs, he was exhausted. Still weak and woozy from being drained of his strength by Cas, his ass hit the floor with a thud when Dean shoved at his shoulder. Briefs at his ankles, Dean was no longer tolerant of accepting Sam's help.

"You're not walking anywhere alone." Sam clambered to his feet. "You even try and I'll toss you over my shoulder."

"You sure as hell ain't carrying me." Dean retorted. Using one of the blankets to wipe his face, he managed to stand up but found he couldn't bear any weight on his bum leg. He blushed in mortification as he reluctantly accepted the fact he would have to accept his brother's help after all. "Fine!" he growled. "But you're staying outside."

Sam nodded and Dean grudgingly looped his good arm around Sam's neck. Sam pulled him close and Dean let him. Closer than necessary but it felt good to have his brother by his side and if the arm he looped around Dean's waist hugged him tighter than needed, well, the only person who knew that wasn't complaining.

"Cas is here?" Dean asked as he limped, hopped and hobbled alongside Sam.

"Yeah, he…uh…healed your leg best he could but it took a lot outta him. You'll have some pain until we can get you to a hospital but there'll be no lasting permanent damage internally."

"Hospital?" Dean repeated startled. "I ain't going to no hospital!"

"Yeah, you are." Sam corrected. "Rescue crews will be here soon."

"Then, by boat." Dean ordered. "Don't let them fly me outta here."

"We'll see."

**000***

Paper map on the dash, GPS on his cellphone, Dean dozing in the passenger seat, Sam revved the engine, backed up, turned around and pulled out of the hospital parking lot onto the road that would finally lead them to the highway that would take them home.

Having been turned around and delayed and detoured during the storm, and Dean transported by ambulance to the nearest hospital with Sam following in the Impala, they were a mere two hour or so drive from the bunker and nothing and no one was going to stop them this time. Cas had remained at the church, for whatever reason with promises to catch up with them at the bunker in a week so and while Sam still worried about the angel, he was glad it was just the two of them going home.

"We gonna stop?" Dean asked sleepily. "I'm hungry."

"No." Sam said shortly. He wanted to go home. Straight home, but….Dean when announced he was hungry, it was wise to feed him. And Dean wanted ice cream. And as much as Sam wanted to deny him, he couldn't do it. So rather than admit the reason they were stopping was because Sam couldn't say no to his brother, he convinced himself the Impala needed gas.

While he pumped gas, Dean fell from the car and despite Sam's order to get back in and stay put, he wandered into the roadside general store. Sam sighed but let him go. How much trouble could he get into in one-room mini-mart?

As soon as Sam stepped through the door of the store, he knew letting Dean - despite his former vow never to do so again - out of his sight hadn't been a wise move. Dean wandered the aisles, picking up and setting down everything his fingers touched as he aimlessly meandered. A beefy, burly fellow followed him about, not even trying not to be obvious, picking everything up Dean had put down and putting it back where it belonged. The cashier stood watching the surveillance camera, phone in her hand, ready to call...the police, perhaps?

Sam hastily collected his brother, smacked his hands until he dropped the package of cookies and steered him over to the freezer that contained ice cream, then went to make two cups of coffee.

"You know," Sam began hotly, embarrassed and angry. "You really shouldn't judge people by what they wear or how they look. Yeah, okay, maybe our clothes are wrinkled and my hair hasn't been washed but our appearance doesn't give you the right to follow us throughout the store like we're about to shoplift everything I can shove down my pants!"

Dean, rumpled and disheveled, twitching and shying away from people and overhead lights, strode by. Partially unwrapped candy bar between his teeth, carton of ice cream tucked under his bad arm, and a bottle of sports drink dangling from his other hand, he marched right through the front door.

The clerk smirked, set the phone aside and with her hands on her hips, popped a bubble with a quirked eyebrow. "So, will you be paying cash?" she asked sweetly.

"I….uh…he…." Sam stuttered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole; so much for righteous indignation being on his side. Oh, he was so going to beat the living hell out of his brother. He hastily paid for the items Dean had absconded with, didn't bother to wait for his change and strode out to the car in a fit of fury.

"I let you out of my sight for five minutes! Five minutes Dean! How can you find trouble in a gas station? Only you, just you." he exploded upon opening the car door. "What the hell's the matter with you?" he got in and slammed the door. "SERIOUSLY?"

"What? There wasn't any trouble!"

"That girl was calling the police….or worse, Big Bubba's brothers."

"Who?"

"The one-ton buffalo who was ready to tackle you to the floor and bang your head against it."

"Pfft." Dean blew him off, opening the carton of ice cream. "Have you always been prone to hysterics and I just never noticed or is this something new?" he offered Sam a spare spoon. "Besides, you were packing."

Sam clenched his jaw, bared his teeth and pulled out. They'd been back on the road for about thirty minutes when Sam passed the road sign thanking them for their visit to the state of Nebraska with the hope they'd enjoyed their stay and would return soon.

Oh. Hell. No….Not. Ever.

"Hey Dean?" Sam's fingers tightened and his hands fisted on the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve.

"Yeah?" his brother was nestled in a blanket against the window and his head lolled with the motion of the car.

"Just so you know, we ain't never traveling through Nebraska again, 'k?"

"Ain't so bad."

"The family from hell at the B&B and the most incompetent group of local yokels beg to differ...…"

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Dean murmured sleepily. "But Sam….this time you were driving." he yawned and snuggled his cheek against the pillow he'd made. "Just so you know."

Yeah, I was, and that's how it's gonna be for a while…..you and me dude…..you and me.

***END***

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