Title: Death from Within

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: The Monster of the Week turns out to be more than the boys bargained for within an abandoned hotel in the Nevada desert. post 1x09 "Home" hurt/comfort/awesome!Sam/Dean

Author's Note: Sorry for going AWOL for a couple weeks. :D There was the visit home, finishing another book, nearly finishing a third and my roommates in-laws are here for who knows how long. Distractions are my world! LOL Thank you Janice for picking the season and episode to write this one in!

Beta'd by the Always Awesome JaniceC678 - Friend and Muse's co-conspirator

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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Chapter 1

Sam woke slowly and rolled his head off the window. He groaned softly when the motion made his abused neck ache and brought a hand up to rub it. "Crap."

"You good, Sammy?" Dean asked, glancing worriedly at him from behind the wheel.

"Uh, yeah. Nothing coffee wouldn't fix." Sam pushed himself up in the seat and smiled tiredly then looked out at the road. "Where are we?"

"Hit the road and pointed her west." Dean smiled and patted the steering wheel fondly. "We're maybe, generally, heading in the direction of Vegas."

Sam groaned and then chuckled. "Dude, I am not up for a Vegas week yet."

Dean chuckled but didn't answer, leaving Sam to lean over the back seat and dig around for a bottle of water. Inside, he was anything but content. The bruises on Sam's throat had started coming up shortly after they'd left, and they were like accusations to Dean of his failure to watch out for his little brother. Worse, though, was that he'd received coordinates from Dad while Sam was asleep, and that…that was killing him a little.

He hadn't even called. Dean had called for the first time ever asking – begging - for his father's help, and Dad had just…abandoned them to that house and it had nearly claimed his little brother's life a second time. Dean couldn't even begin to think how to deal with that. It was the first time in his life that he felt a crack in the image he'd always had of their father. Each time he thought about it, about the message he had left that their Dad hadn't bothered to even answer, much less come help them, each time he remembered finding Sam nearly unconscious on the floor having the life strangled out of him and being unable to loosen the cord wound around his neck...Dean had trouble just breathing. Add to that the gut-wrenching encounter with the ghost of their long-dead mother…..and now John expected them to just move on to his next assignment for them as if nothing had happened?

He pushed the thoughts away yet again and shoved them down deep. "We're not actually going to Vegas. We're heading to Goldfield. It's a little outside of Vegas." He'd checked the map when he stopped for gas two hours ago and Sam hadn't even stirred. "Think I found us a hunt." He didn't want Sam to know that their father had ignored them; he didn't want to see the look of resigned acceptance on his little brother's face.

"Goldfield?" Sam turned back around with two bottles of water and settled in the seat as he handed one over to Dean. "When did you find a hunt?"

Dean took the bottle and smirked. "Dude, you've been out cold for like seven hours. Did a little digging when I stopped for gas before we left Kansas."

Sam shrugged. "Ok, then what's the job?"

In truth, Dean wasn't entirely sure. The little he'd been able to find online was anything but conclusive. "Vengeful spirit maybe? Could be a pissed off house gnome too." He snorted at the look of disgust on Sam's face. They'd come across three very irritable, very creative house gnomes when Sam was still in his teens, and he didn't think his little brother was ever going to forget being dipped in wallpaper glue and rolled through a bed of tulips. He grinned; neither was he. "Probably not the gnomes though. They don't usually kill people."

Sam huffed out a relieved breath and smiled self-consciously. "If it is, you're on your own."

Dean reached across and slapped his arm. "Whatever, bitch. You know you'll come with. Anyway, I figure you can research it more once we get there."

"And find it faster than you. No problem." Sam smiled and sipped at his water while Dean glared at him. It dawned on Sam that the levity felt a little forced and he knew why they were both doing it. It was either that or curl up in a little ball in a corner somewhere and sob for a while; at least it was for Sam. He couldn't get the image of his mother's face out of his mind. Her smile was haunting him and her words to him…'I'm sorry.' Sam sighed. He couldn't think what it was his mother could have to be sorry for, but it frightened him on some fundamental level he didn't understand. He put a hand to his throat again and swallowed hard. All else aside, he'd gotten to see her again; his mother. Finally he had a new memory of her that didn't involve the flames that would sometimes eat away at his nightmares from a barely-remembered horror he only saw when he slept.

"Dude, you awake over there?"

Sam jerked his head over to his brother and realized Dean had been talking to him. "Sorry. Yeah. What?"

Dean frowned. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh," Dean said, unconvinced. As hard as being home had been for Dean, it had been worse for Sam. He'd have been surprised if he wasn't a little off his game right then. "Grab the map. Find us somewhere to stop for food. I'm starving." He could see the bitch-face his little brother was wearing that he knew damn well was the result of an aborted whine about not being hungry, but, if Dean said he was starving, then Sam would shut up and he could get some food in the hulk's mouth. He smirked. He certainly hadn't lost his touch managing Sammy.

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Joe parked his truck outside the Goldfield Hotel and smiled as Ellie and Matt parked their van behind him. He climbed out in the late afternoon sun to look up at the massive building and grinned as he took in the weathered stone structure and sand-grimed windows.

"What do you think, Joe?" Ellie bounced out of the cab of the silver van and came over to lean on his shoulder. "We gonna find something?"

Joe nodded and leaned back, mussing a hand through Ellie's blonde spikes. "Yep. Feelin' good about this one. We're gonna find something tonight."

"Ghosts, dude." Matt shook his head with a laugh and pulled open the van's side door. "I still think you're full of crap, but I don't argue with Ellie."

"That's 'cause you love me, baby." Ellie chuckled and went over to drop a kiss on Matt's cheek above his black beard and ran a hand over his white, shaved head.

"Naw, I just wanna follow you around lookin' at your ass with a night vision camera all night." Matt grinned. "You two are trackin' ghosts. I'm just trackin' bootie."

"Asshole!" Ellie laughed and pulled a box out of the van.

"At least he's an honest asshole. Come on!" Joe chuckled, took a box from Matt and headed for the doors. He narrowed his eyes at the broken, yellow crime scene tape fluttering in the desert breeze. "Huh. Wonder what happened."

"Must not have been too bad." Matt pulled a piece of the crime scene tape loose and draped it around his neck. "No cops watching the place to keep out us helpless folk."

"Good point. Let's get set up. There's a ballroom on the second floor that should make a good home base." Joe balanced his box with one hand and dug his flashlight out of his pocket.

"Wait up, guys!" Ellie called and jogged up the stairs into the door, she, like them, too preoccupied to have noticed the tail end of the empty police cruiser parked at the end of the hotel or the bloody handprint glistening on its white trunk.

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"Well, this isn't good." Sam turned and found his brother sitting a few feet away making eyes at the pretty young woman behind the desk in the library. Sam rolled his eyes and reached out a long arm to grab the back of his brother's chair. He wheeled him over to the table with a snort of amusement for Dean's disappointed groan and tapped the newspapers spread out in front of him. "Job, Dean?"

"Sexy time, Sammy. Way more important," Dean grinned and nodded.

"She's jailbait, dude. At least pick someone in your age range."

"You tryin' to say I'm old?"

Sam laughed and shrugged. "I didn't say it, old man. Look." He took the slap to the back of his head with a laugh and held up one of the papers. "This is from two days ago. So, according to this, a guy got…well…mangled and dismembered in that old hotel. They found bits of him. They're still missing an arm."

"Yeesh." Dean grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the article. "The one I read said two people had been killed in the last couple weeks. Attacked by something, but they were still whole when they were found. Whatever this is, it's stepping up its game, and it kind of rules out a vengeful spirit."

Sam nodded. "Probably. I want a look at the bodies in the morgue. This latest one should still be there."

"Great. Time to go play connect the body parts." Dean groaned and rubbed his stomach. "Kinda wish I hadn't had that second helping of bacon."

"Third," Sam said with a smirk as he stood. "And two orders of pancakes. I'm gonna laugh when you can't button your pants anymore."

Dean reached out and slapped the back of his brother's head again. "Shut up, bitch. I have a fast metabolism." He slowed behind Sam to smile at the librarian and make her blush and gave Sam a shameless grin when his brother rolled his eyes at him. "You wish you had my game."

"Can we go be grown-ups now, please?" Sam asked in a long-suffering tone and held the library door open for his brother. "If I had your game, I'd need shots on a regular basis."

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Dean swallowed hard…again…as he watched Sam picking through the remains of John Doe. The cops hadn't managed to identify the body yet. "Well, he's gonna have a closed casket."

"These look like teeth marks," Sam said and held up an arm, turning the stump end toward Dean, and he poked a blood-slicked gloved finger at a protruding bone. "Look."

"Uh…yep." Dean groaned and swallowed.

Sam smirked and set the arm down. He bent over the remains of the torso again and put a magnifying glass over a deep gash near the ribs. "This looks like something clawed him right into his chest cavity. Uh…hand me the uh…the spreader."

Dean rolled his eyes and handed the tool to his brother. "You are tryin' to make me toss my cookies, aren't you?"

Sam chuckled and shoved the metal rib spreader into the wound. He grimaced at the 'sucking' sound it made and wasn't surprised when Dean wandered away to look at something else. Of the two of them, his bad-ass, tough-talking big brother definitely had the weaker stomach when it came to things truly gross and disgusting.

Dean grabbed the medical examiner's report again. He'd read it twice already, but it was either that or watch Sam yank the poor guy's ribs out and he wanted his lunch to stay where he'd put it. He snorted again as he read the file. "Can't believe they think a bear killed the guy." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause there's so many bears loose in Nevada hotels." He looked over when Sam yelped painfully under his breath. "Dude, the spreader's for the ribs, not your fingers."

"Shuddup." Sam shook his left hand out and then looked at the small hole in the palm of the glove. "Dammit." He went to the sink at the side of the room and hastily pulled the gloves off, turned it on and ran his hand under it.

"Shit, Sam." Dean looked around his shoulder and saw the bleeding wound in his palm. Dean grabbed the M.E.'s report with renewed interest and scanned the blood test results. He blew out a breath in relief and tossed it on the counter. "He's clean. Lucky you."

Sam nodded and swallowed, knowing he dodged a bullet. "Must have been a rib fragment. Crap. That hurts." He took the towels Dean handed him and dried off his hand, pressing them into his palm to stop the bleeding.

"Gotta be bandages around here somewhere," Dean said and started rifling through the drawers. "You find anything interesting in there, Dr. Mengele?"

"Other than whatever stabbed me?" Sam said ruefully. He held his hand up and narrowed his eyes. "Really stabbed me. Damn." The puncture in his palm was roughly half an inch wide and looked like a hole. "Uh, just more teeth marks."

"Here, gimme that." Dean popped open a bottle of rubbing alcohol he'd unearthed, grabbed Sam's wrist and poured it over the wound. He grinned when Sam hissed out a breath and tried to jerk his hand free. "Little sting's good for ya, Sammy."

Sam glared at him. "That what you tell your dates?"

"Ouch. Low, dude." Dean poured more alcohol into the wound with a smile just to make Sam twitch and set it aside. "Alright, alright. Stop whining, princess."

"Jerk," Sam grumbled and tried to hold his hand still while Dean wrapped a thick layer of gauze around his palm and tied it off. He took his arm back when his brother was done and rubbed his forearm. "Think I hit a nerve. Hurts all the way up into my shoulder."

Dean frowned while Sam went back to look over the body and promised himself to keep an eye on that hand. Disease free didn't mean Sam couldn't catch something from the dead guy. "Ok, back to the motel to gear up and then we'll go check out the Goldfield."

Sam nodded. "Works for me." He straightened his suit tie and pulled at the neck of his shirt while he followed Dean out of the morgue. He was more than ready to get out of the monkey suit as it seemed to get hotter the moment they stepped outside. "Next time, you can crack the ribs open. Geez." The pain moved up his arm into his shoulder and he rubbed it to relieve the ache.

Dean strode to the Impala, gleaming in the late day sun and grinned. "You need me to kiss it and make it better, princess?"

"Bite me, Dean," Sam said with a dirty look and sincerely hoped this wasn't the first blood he was going to lose to whatever was killing people in the Goldfield Hotel.

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To Be Continued.