Chapter 11: Of fire and ice

"He's coming," Sam panted, cringing in pain. Fire ran through his veins, burning him from the inside out. He wanted to scream, sobbed instead as he tried to hold the scream in.

"Sam," Dean's hands roamed over his body, grabbed his shoulders to steady him, "Calm down. Sam! Who's coming? Who's coming, Sam?"

Sam's eyes popped open. He grabbed Dean's arms, tried to push him away and pull him close at the same time. He whimpered.

"He's coming. He's coming," a hysterical undertone in his voice.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, "He is coming? Sam, are you feeling the Ceesje?"

Sam whimpered again, fighting Dean's hands. He hurt. The fire was still raging inside him, overpowering his senses, leaving him confused and in pain.

"Shit!" Dean slammed his fist into the wall, "Sam, for God's sake… calm down!"

"Fire," Sam moaned breathlessly, "I'm on fire."

"You're not on fire," Dean answered, "Sam, look at me. I promise you, you're not on fire."

Cool hands on his forehead.

"You're burning up, Sammy," Dean whispered and he bit his tongue when he heard the distressed sounds his brother made, "No, no… not literally. You have a fever. You're going to be just fine. Ssh… It's okay Sammy…"

"You're dead," Sam suddenly croaked. Dean lifted an eyebrow.

"You had a nightmare. I can assure you that I'm still very much alive, and that I'm going to kill the son of a bitch who is doing this to you."

Sam sobbed out a laugh.

"Want to talk about that nightmare of yours?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.

"Not really."

"Aw, c'mon Sam!" Dean poked him playfully in the ribs and he flinched, "Might give us some insight in how the Ceesje works and thinks, right?"

Sam sighed, looking away, "I guess."

Dean waited.

"We were… here. And it felt so real," Sam started, wiping his clammy hands over his burning forehead, "You were asleep and Jess… Jess showed up. I told her she wasn't real, but she convinced me…" he shook his head, tears springing to his eyes, "She was right there, Dean…"

Dean made a soothing noise and patted his brother's shoulder awkwardly. Sam cleared his throat.

"There was… we were talking," Sam took a deep breath, "We were holding hands. And she… she…" Sam sobbed and Dean made another attempt at soothing him, "She caught fire. And she wouldn't let go. And then the walls and the floor caught fire… and you… and you died. And I…" he brushed desperately over his arms and torso, "I'm on fire," he shrieked, "I'm on fire! Dean! Dean!"

"Ssh, ssh, hush Sammy. Sam!" he grabbed his hands to keep him from scratching his own arms open. Sam started crying and Dean grimaced before pulling him in a hug. Holding him until he stopped shaking. Sam's body was growing heavy against his and Dean was starting to sweat from the heat radiating off of him.

"C'mon, kiddo," Dean mumbled, wrestling his brother's gangly limbs, "We need to get you cooled down. Let's take of your shirt, okay?"

"I can do it," Sam muttered, a slight slur in his voice. The fire was still trying to consume him, but Dean was here now. Dean was going to make it alright. Together, they wrestled off the shirt and laid Sam against the cool metal bars of their little prison cell.

"I bet the Zombie-chicks are cool," Dean mused, "Maybe they can help cool you down. Y'know, the same way you're supposed to warm someone up."

"No way," Sam wrinkled his nose, "They could be contagious."

Dean snorted, "Try and get some more sleep Sammy. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Sam was freezing when he woke up and he felt a little shaky and lightheaded. He found himself leaning against his brother, his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Feeling better?" Dean asked when he noticed Sam was awake.

"A little," Sam answered, lifting his head. He shivered and blushed when he noticed he'd drooled on his brother's shirt. Dean laughed.

"Don't worry 'bout it."

He helped him back into his shirt and let him snuggle against his brother in an attempt to get warm again. Dean sighed softly, thinking of a time when they were much, much younger and their father would leave them alone in a motel room for days. Sometimes even longer. When Sam would get sick, Dean would take care of him and when Sam had a fever, they usually ended up snuggling on a couch (if there was one) or a bed until Sam would feel better or fall asleep. Dean would make sure his little brother ate an took his medicine, even if that meant sparing the food out of his own mouth because they were running low on money again. He knew their dad had tried the best he could, but sometimes he still cursed him for those long, hard days of loneliness, fear and hunger. Sam would never know of course.

Footsteps on the stairs pulled him from his thoughts and he craned his neck to see who was coming. Andrew entered through the door, followed by an entourage of about 7 girls. Dean nudged Sam softly in the ribs to wake him up.

"I've been thinking," Andrew said, pulling up a chair so he could sit down while watching his prisoners, "There's really nothing I can do with the two of you."

"So…" Dean tried, "Are you going to set us free then?"

There was a beat of silence before Andrew broke out laughing, shaking his head.

"Set you free?" he shrieked, still sniggering, "Didn't think so. You know too much. And I can't keep you here, because frankly, you annoy me. Had you been two women, well, then I guess we could start making deals. But you're not. So no deals."

"I'd rather die than join your little fuck-club," Dean spat. Sam groaned.

"Well…" Andrew glared at him, "Technically, you'd be dead either way."

"We told everyone where we were going," Sam suddenly said, his teeth chattering audibly, "People know we're here."

Andrew frowned and stared at the youngest Winchester for a few seconds, "No you didn't. It's been days. Had you really told them where you were going, they would have showed up on my porch already. And then my lovelies would have found them and taken them out."

Dean cursed.

"But since you thought it would be a good idea to lie to me… you just volunteered to go first… Phoebe, Alisha…"

Two of the women stepped forward, grunting. The petite Asian girl, who couldn't be older than twenty, fished a key out of her surgically enhanced bosom and unlocked the door. Dean had jumped to his feet, pulling his brother with him and was now pushing Sam behind him. He swung his fists towards the women as they entered and he grimaced when it connected with the Asian girl's jaw, dislocating it with a dry snap. She stared at him and slammed her own fist against his nose. He stumbled backwards and in the time he needed to recover, the other girl had jumped on top of him, hands closed around his neck. Sam was screaming as he made a choking sound.

"Alisha, love," Andrew purred, "Don't break him. We want him to watch, remember?"

Alisha grunted and the pressure on Dean's throat lessened, giving him a chance to cough and splutter, wheezing in gasping breaths. He could see Phoebe was holding Sam pressed against the bars and he grimaced as Alisha yanked him to his feet, slamming him against the wall. The room spun around him as his head connected harshly with the wood. Andrew said something and another two women entered their little cell. Alisha let him slide to the floor and the three of them tied him up.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Sammy," Dean choked out upon seeing the terrified look in his brother's eyes. Andrew laughed.

"I'd love to see you try."

Dean glared at him as Sam was harshly pulled out of their little cell. He could see the younger brother swaying slightly on his feet as he tried to regain balance, his hands tied behind his back. But there was a hard, cold look in Sam's eyes that told Dean he wasn't all that out of it as it may have seemed to Andrew.

"Now," Andrew purred, pulling out a gun from his waistband, "What will we do with you?"

He traced Sam's jaw with the nuzzle and Dean could see the slight tremble in his brother's limbs.

"My girls need to eat, you see?" Andrew nodded, "But then again, I could dispose of you myself, I guess. So many beautiful choices."

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment Andrew was taunting Sam, the next the larger man was out of his bounds and disarming the other. Sam pressed the cold steel against Andrew's temple with a calculating look, locking his arm over the other man's chest.

"How did you do that?" Andrew shrieked. The girls were moving restlessly around them, grunting and clicking their teeth.

"Your little puppets can't tie knots to save their lives," Sam answered, "Tell them to back off. One wrong move from them, and your brain will be mush."

"Stand back," Andrew called, "Don't move."

"Have them untie Dean," Sam ordered.

"Do as he says," Andrew said and one of the women moved forward to untie him.

"Is there a cure?" Sam asked, "Can they still be saved?"

"No," Andrew breathed, "They're gone. An empty shell."

Sam's finger curled around the trigger and he shot the woman who'd untied Dean through the head. His brother was showered in blood and brains and the zombie fell to the ground, unmoving.

"Nice move, Sammy," Dean said. Andrew shrieked in horror.

"We're going for a walk," Sam said and he pushed Andrew towards the stairs. They walked to Andrew's car in silence, shooting whatever trouble they ran into. The zombie-chicks might have been quick, but a bullet turned out to be much faster. By the time they were in Andrew's car – Dean by the wheel, Sam and Andrew on the back seat – the assistant was in a rage, going on and on about how they'd ruined everything, until Sam unkindly asked him to shut the hell up.

"What do we do with him?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder as Sam gave him directions as to where to drive, "Shoot him through the head?"

"Can't," Sam answered, "He's not a monster of our kind. Besides, we need him. There's a bunch of women infected and dying in the hospital as we speak. We're going to drop him off at the police station and he's going to design a nice little antidote. If he doesn't have one already. He must take security measures to make sure he would never get infected himself, no?"

"Good thinking, college-boy," Dean smiled, albeit a little forced, "You still feeling okay?"

"Been better," Sam answered, "But I've also been a lot worse. Turn left."

Dean parked Andrew's car in front of the police station and took the gun from his brother, giving him a chance to slightly relax for a moment. With the cold steel pressed against the back of the head of their criminal, the three of them walked into the building.

It took the police officers a moment, but within 10 seconds someone had spotted them and yelled 'GUN!' on top of her lungs, before diving behind her desk, pulling out her own gun and pointing it towards them. The six other officers mimicked her moves and within seconds, seven barrels were pointed towards them.

"Drop your weapon!" someone yelled.

"Relax, princess," Dean said, "We got you a present."

"Drop your weapon," the same voice repeated, "Or we will shoot."

Dean rolled his eyes and laid his gun on the floor, kicking it away. The atmosphere slightly relaxed.

"I present you: Andy Sparky," Dean made a ta-dah movement.

"It's Andrew Sparks," Andrew hissed through clenched teeth.

Dean shrugged, "He's the 'mastermind' behind the dying women in the hospital. He infected them with something. If you go to his cabin in the woods, you'll find something that I'm sure will interest you. Also, he locked me and my brother in his cellar and tried to kill us."

"That true?" an officer stepped forward. Andrew glared at him, "Right. Andrew Sparks, you and I are going to have a talk…"

It's been ages :o I'm so sorry for the late update. But not to worry, I do plan to finish this story. I just kind of lost my muse. I'm afraid I won't be able to upload regularly anymore, but I'll try to get a new chapter ready within a month :)

I wrote the first half of the chapter months ago and then finished it yesterday :) Can you guess the exact point where I restarted writing? Because I feel like there's somewhat of a stylechange, no?

Reviews are still very much appreciated :) so is constructive criticism :)

- Lune x