DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

Dean absently rubbed at his left arm. It was the rain – it always made him ache and his left arm was the worst. His younger brother Sam glanced over at him with a frown.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"You've been rubbing your arm all day ... you ok?" Sam asked.

Dean looked down at his hand like he was surprised to find it there. He quickly turned back to his laptop.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Sammy. Just tired of the rain."

Dean knew from his brother's frustrated exhale that he wasn't buying Dean's excuse but for once he didn't push the matter. Dean would take his victories where he could. After another few minutes of searching, Dean got up to use the head. He walked briskly up the stairs, slowing his stride once he was out of Sam's view. In the bathroom, Dean opened the medicine cabinet over the sink. He pulled out a small prescription bottle and dumped out two pills. He was beginning to need them more often as of late and that was concerning. Still, Dean couldn't complain about them right now. The ache in his arm had migrated to the rest of his frame and was poised to explode into full-blown agony.

Throwing them into his mouth, Dean washed the pills down with a handful of water and then splashed a little more on his face where he'd begun to sweat lightly. He flushed the toilet, put the bottle back and splashed a little more water before opening the door. He jerked back, startled to see Bobby Singer standing in the hallway.

"How bad?"

Dean winced. "It'll pass, Bobby."

Bobby's eyes took on a slightly yellow cast. "Don't lie to me, boy. How bad?" His voice was a low growl.

Dean ducked his head. Technically, Bobby wasn't his Alpha, but he'd all but raised Sam and Dean; they submitted to him. Dean looked up and the pain was etched clearly on his face. "Think I put it off too long this time, Bobby ..."

"Balls," Bobby snapped. "I knew you were feelin' it ... why the hell you do this to yourself ..."

Dean wobbled as the world suddenly spun with sick pain. "Bobby can we maybe discuss this later ... I sure as fuck don't feel good right now..."

Bobby caught Dean when his legs buckled and the young man crumpled. He easily scooped up Dean's weight and carried him into the bedroom he and Sam had shared most of their lives. Laying Dean out on his bed, Bobby pulled off his boots and jeans, leaving Dean in a tshirt and his boxers. For what was coming, Dean needed to have as little restriction on his movements as possible. Bobby sighed and pulled up a chair to the bedside. He tilted his head to the side when he heard a board creak behind him.

"You just gonna stand there, Sam?" Bobby asked softly.

Sam opened his mouth to reply when suddenly Dean groaned in pain and curled up on his side. Sam was kicking off his shoes and sliding into the bed behind his brother, pulling him into the curve of his body. Dean's whimpers became louder and Sam smoothed his brother's sweat damp hair back while murmuring softly to him.

" ... hurts Sammy ... " Dean gasped, his eyes clenched shut. " ... please ... gods I can't take this ... "

Bobby sighed. Dean's condition had been generally manageable all his life, but as his 30th birthday approached, the seizures and pain had worsened and no one seemed to know why. As if the horrific incident that had left him crippled this way hadn't been enough, now it was getting worse. Bobby watched Sam soothe his brother as he had done since he was old enough to understand. The boys' father, John Winchester, had tried but Sam was best at it. For whatever reason, his voice could reach Dean when the pain got to be unbearable.

Dean let out a scream and his body shook violently. Bobby watched miserably as Sam wrapped one of his long legs around Dean's to keep him from thrashing. It would take the meds longer to kick in since Dean had waited so long – Bobby stood to go make a pot of coffee. It would be a long night for both of them.

Sam held Dean tightly and continued to talk gently to him. He pressed a kiss to his brother's hair when Dean's whimpers became sobs of pain.

"... please, Sammy ... just shoot me ... just kill me and end it ... please ... please ..." Dean begged.

"Not today, big brother. Ask me again next time, k?" Sam whispered in reply. It was the same answer he gave every time and it got the same curses growled at him between gasps of pain and sobs. "Yeah, I know, Dean ... you got stuck with a real fucker of a little brother ... sucks to be you." Sam smiled faintly.

" ... sorry ... sorry ... don't ... Sammy ... " Dean's tearful apologies always followed his heated threats. Sam just held Dean through the worst of the convulsions and finally, the seizure began to release his brother from its grip.

"Hey ... looks like this one wasn't too bad ... shhh ... it's ok ..." Sam murmured as Dean's muscles began to relax. The release triggered the real flood of tears and Sam held Dean through that as well.

By the time Dean slipped into an exhausted sleep, it was nearly two hours from the time he'd come upstairs. Sam sat up on the bed with Dean curled up under an afghan beside him. He sipped at the coffee Bobby had brought and grimaced at the bite it had. Bobby chuckled at his expression.

"Little somethin' extra ... you need your sleep too, kiddo." Bobby said, sipping his own spiked coffee.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said. "This one hit him fast ... "

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, I know ... your brother is a hardheaded fool who isn't gonna listen to me or you about not ignorin' the signs."

"Bobby ... they're coming outside the full-moon phases ... it's going to get worse." Sam said, staring at the ceiling.

Bobby nodded tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll call Ellen tomorrow ... see if she knows anyone. Get some rest, Sam."

Sam nodded, putting the mug on the nightstand. Bobby closed the door to their room. He knew full-well that the next stage in these attacks was always the nightmares – Sam wasn't getting any rest tonight.

The next morning, Sam rolled over the wrong way and promptly tumbled to the floor with a curse. Sam could hear Dean chuckling from above on the bed. Lying on his back, Sam raised his arm up and flipped Dean off. Dean chuckled again but it faded into a soft groan. Sam sat up quickly.

Dean was moving like he was a hundred instead of twenty-nine. Sam could practically count the visible knots in Dean's calves. He reached over and grabbed the liniment.

"No, Sam, I don't – geez!" Dean growled as a charley horse in his leg sent him flopping back against the mattress.

"Yeah, whatever ... hold still," Sam ordered.

With his strong hands, Sam quickly began to massage the muscles in Dean's legs. As he worked out the knots, Sam's sensitive fingertips drifted over a web of hairfine scars that crisscrossed Dean's skin. The scars were the obvious visible reminder of the incident that had left Dean wounded in this way. Any other scar would disappear when Dean shifted to his wolf ... these scars would never go away. They marked him everywhere but his face and labeled him damaged goods. Few packs wanted someone tainted – nevermind he'd been a boy and it hadn't been his fault.

"You're thinkin' awful loud, Sammy." Dean said tiredly.

Sam didn't respond and Dean pushed himself up on his elbows to look at his little brother. He knew as well as anyone the burden he laid on Sam. It only made him more determined to get Sam accepted with a good pack so he could leave his broken older brother behind.