Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: Set after 7x11 "Adventures in Babysitting".

Last chapter. I'm actually sad! Going through the alphabet and beating Sam's ass (whoa that sounds wrong, ha!) has been a lot of fun! I hope you've all enjoyed the ride with me and thank you, ALL of you, for your fabulous reviews and kind words. *huggles* You are the best! Now that this is finished, I'll be going back to work on the new BYC story in earnest. I really shouldn't have tossed that first chapter up until I was done here but impulse control is so not my forte. Sorry about that! Lol

For the record: I'm reasonably sure I dragged ass so hard on this chapter because I subconsciously didn't want it to be over. ROFL Um… sorry?

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– 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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Z is for Zmeu -

Sam groaned loudly as he woke and rolled over. The movement tugged at the shredded skin on the side of his neck from the vetala. He sat up slowly, bracing a hand over the bandage, and looked blearily around. He vaguely remembered being in the car the night before with Dean and falling asleep against the window as they'd left Dodge City behind. He definitely did not remember stopping or finding a motel. He didn't even remember waking up.

"Dean?" Sam called and coughed to clear his dry throat. He frowned again when there was no answer. The room looked like it had been plucked out of a spaghetti western film. There were southwest blankets with loud, clashing colors draped over a small couch, a chair, the other bed and, Sam realized, spread carefully over his legs. He looked down at his feet and noted that either he or Dean had gotten his shoes off at some point.

"Wow," Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He swung his legs off the bed, tossing the blanket aside, and stood. The room did a dizzying spin around him, and he ended up on his knees on the floor, slumped over the end of the bed. "Holy crap." He heard the door to the room open and wasn't surprised when he felt his brother's familiar hands sliding under his shoulder a moment later. He didn't realize how much tension he had been feeling with no idea how he'd gotten to the motel or where his brother had gone until Dean was there. Sam slumped into Dean's hold with a low moan and allowed himself a moment of weakness.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said softly. He grunted when Sam's considerable weight collapsed into him and shook his head. "Never should'a left you alone, huh? Sorry about that. Come on. Here we go." Dean slowly eased his brother up and back onto the bed. He gently leaned him against the headboard so he was sitting up, more or less, and took a good look at his pale face. "I'd ask how you're feelin', but I'm gonna go with hammered crap."

Sam gave a wan smile and managed to open his eyes again. "Where'we?" he slurred softly.

Dean frowned. "Siesta Motel, dude. You don't remember?" He sighed when Sam shook his head once. "Well, you were pretty out of it when we came in. We're in Durango, Colorado. You tossed your cookies on the interstate just outside the city, and I made the call to stop for the night." In his mind, he decided it would be for a few days. Sam was certainly in no condition to be stuffed into the car again; not when the motion kept driving him to throw up. They were just lucky that Sam had managed to keep from actually doing it in the car every time. "That vetala bitch took more outta you than I thought."

"S'venom," Sam said surely and cleared his throat. He pushed himself up a little higher and struggled to wake up more. He felt like he could sleep for a month. "Gotta be. I mean… blood loss too, but this feels wrong."

Dean nodded. He patted Sam's thigh and stood up. "I figured. Went out to get some supplies." He went over and recovered the bag he had let drop to the floor when he'd come in and seen his brother on the floor. He took out a small bottle of orange juice, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Sam. "Drink this, but slowly, dude. I don't wanna room with puke smell."

Sam smiled and took a small sip of the juice. He closed his eyes as the flavor of oranges exploded on his tongue and he suddenly realized how thirsty he was. He only just managed to stop himself from gulping the whole bottle down. He knew it would all come right back up if he did. He took several, long swallows and set it carefully on the nightstand. "We leaving soon?"

Dean snorted and took out the small container of chicken soup he'd grabbed at the diner down the street. "Hell, no. We're not goin' anywhere 'til you look less like something we salt and burn."

Sam chuckled at that. He put a hand carefully over the bandage on his neck. "I'm good if we need to get moving. I could lay in the back seat." He didn't want to force Dean to settle in somewhere with nothing to do. His big brother never reacted well to forced inactivity.

"Dude, forget it. We're good here for a couple days." Dean shrugged and brought the soup over. "We got lucky and the motel's computer's down." He grinned. "So no credit checks or anything. Manager said it was gonna be at least three days before they could get someone out to fix it. Big mouths aren't gonna be able to track us down here for a while."

That took a weight off Sam's mind, and he settled against the headboard. He sniffed the soup Dean handed him and felt his stomach rumble encouragingly. "Thanks."

"All part of the service," Dean said with a smile. He pulled out a burger for himself and sat on the other bed. He glanced over, watching Sam dip a trembling spoon into the soup and felt the blade of guilt drive a little deeper. Sam had nearly been killed and it was his fault. If he had just added the new information about the vetala to Dad's journal all those years ago, Sam never would have gone into the hunt blind. Dean scowled at his burger angrily. The truth was, Sam never should have been alone in the first place, and that was on him. Dean knew it was his single-minded obsession with getting revenge for Bobby that had left Sam vulnerable. He felt as though he'd failed on every front.

"Knock it off," Sam said into the silence.

Dean twitched and looked over curiously at his brother. "Knock what off?"

"Beating yourself up." Sam smiled. "It wasn't your fault, and I'm alive. Let it go."

Dean snorted derisively at that. "Eat your soup, Sammy." He wasn't going to argue; he knew Sam's current condition was on his head and he wasn't ready to let Sam absolve him of his guilt.

Sam shook his head sadly and went back to eating his soup. He cradled the container against his chest in deference to his shaking hands.

Dean ate his burger in the quiet, caught in a depressing loop of his own thoughts, and wished for the hundredth time that he could just call Bobby and take Sam to the salvage yard. But they had no safe haven left. The leviathans had taken everything away from them. Dean tried to shake himself out of his dark thoughts. He balled up his empty wrapper and looked over in time to see Sam's head drop forward and the soup container start to slip.

"Crap." Dean scrambled across the space to his brother and managed to capture the soup before it spilled out onto Sam's lap. He smirked fondly and set it on the night stand. Sam slept on, completely unaware while Dean spread the blanket over his brother's legs again. "Get some sleep, Sammy," he whispered and patted Sam's chest lightly.

Several hours later, Dean watched, amused, as Sam slowly woke up for the second time. He grimaced in sympathy when Sam raised his head and groaned loudly. Dean chuckled. He watched Sam wrap both hands around the back of his neck. "Probably shouldn't have slept that way, huh?"

"Shuddup," Sam groaned. His neck, already aching because of the wounds, was now stiff and painful and he had trouble lifting his head for a moment. "Crap."

"Yeah, it sucks." Dean pushed the laptop away and stood, cracking his back while he stretched his arms over his head.

Sam slowly rolled out his neck and then slid his legs over the side of the bed.

"Where you think you're going?" Dean asked. He went and helped his brother up and steadied him when Sam swayed once.

"Bathroom." Sam took a few steps and, when the ground stayed blissfully still, waved off his hovering brother. "I'm good."

Dean gave a snort for what he thought of that and stayed just behind him while Sam crossed the room. "You think you can manage to not fall down again while I go grab us something to eat?"

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and braced himself on the doorway before he looked at his brother. "Stop hovering."

"I don't hover," Dean protested and knew he was doing exactly that. He scrubbed a hand over his face after Sam closed the door on him. "Idiot needs to be hovered over," he grumbled and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. "Sam! I'll be back! Don't drown!"

"Piss off!" Sam shouted back from inside the bathroom, but he was smiling all the same. Dean was his stone number one and Sam would take him any way he could get him.

Sam was shaking by the time he climbed out of the shower and was glad Dean wasn't back yet to watch him stagger from the bathroom to his bed. He blew out a breath before he pulled on the fresh clothes Dean had left out for him. Sam couldn't help the smile. Dean may have been one of the gruffest and most macho men on the planet, but he had a 'mothering' streak a mile wide when it came to his little brother.

He debated lying down and going back to sleep, but curiosity won out when he saw the laptop open on the table. Sam sat down in front of it and tapped the mouse pad to wake it up.

"Better not be Busty Asian Beauties again," Sam muttered and then frowned. The browser was open to the local police blotter. "What'd you find?" Sam became so engrossed in his brother's research that he startled when Dean yelled his name from the open door.

Dean laughed, taking in Sam's wide-eyed expression, and closed the door. "Dude, you're lucky it's me and not a monster. You'd be lunch by now."

Sam was mortified that Dean was right. He shook his head at himself and rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "Shut up," he grumbled, embarrassed.

"Here." Dean chuckled and set a container next to the laptop. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Don't think porn's good for your challenged blood pressure right now."

Sam grimaced. "Shut up. I'm not you." Sam glared up at Dean and tapped the edge of the laptop. "You gonna tell me what you found out before you stopped for food on the way back, hoping I wouldn't notice you were gone for over an hour?"

Dean opened his mouth to argue and then saw that Sam had found his research on the laptop. He groaned and nodded as he sat down across from his brother. "Fine. But you're gonna eat while I do, jeopardy boy."

"Fine." Sam opened the container with a smile for getting what he wanted to easily and was pleased to find a salad topped with thin slices of steak, Dean's way of getting him to eat red meat and rebuild the blood he had lost. "So is it our sort of case?"

"Looks like it, yeah." Dean stood up. "Hang on. Got some paperwork from the M.E. out in the car." He rolled his eyes and left while Sam laughed. HE should have known he couldn't hide much from Sam, even in his brother's weakened condition. He grabbed the folder off the passenger seat and went back inside to find Sam hungrily eating his salad. Dean smirked but said nothing about it as he sat back down, unwilling to risk Sam's contrary little brother nature rearing its head. "So the coroner thinks they've got some serious, sick twist of a serial killer." He opened the folder and took out a picture, sliding it across the table. "They've turned up three bodies at the reservoir so far. All of 'em like that."

Sam picked up the picture and narrowed his eyes. He set down his fork, suddenly not interested in the red meat on his salad. The body in the picture had been badly burned. Most of the skin was charred and blackened, and it took a moment to register that it had once been a woman. Her stomach cavity was torn open, and even without reading the report, Sam could easily see that most of her internal organs were gone, likely removed or consumed by whatever had killed her. He swallowed roughly and set the picture down. "Definitely an animal of some sort." He placed a finger near the woman's shoulder. "Those are claw marks."

Dean nodded. "Big too. I'd blame it on a bear if something hadn't barbecued her for dessert."

"Yeah, that kind of rules out natural causes." Sam plucked the folder out of his brother's hands and opened it. "Any idea what it is?" He waved a hand at the laptop. "Because there isn't much to go on there."

"Well, it's not a werewolf with a fire fetish. None of these kills were on the full moon." Dean shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Gotta be something we haven't dealt with before.

"Something big too." Sam scanned the police report from the last crime scene and looked up. "No footprints, no tire tracks, nothing around the body to show how she got there, but…" he set the folder down and picked up the picture again for another look. "Look at the ground right around her body."

Dean took the photograph and scowled at it. He had looked at it once already, but this time he paid more attention. After a few moments, he finally saw what Sam had seen and his eyes went wide. "She's in a depression."

"Like she fell from a great height." Sam nodded. "So, dropped from above. Whatever it is, either threw her and she landed there…"

"Or it flew in and dumped her. Shit." Dean wasn't sure he liked the idea of something big enough to carry a grown woman. "Dragons? Haven't seen any of those assholes for a while."

"I don't think so." Sam pulled the laptop back over and pulled up a page he'd been on earlier. "She's the only female victim. The others are male."

"And dragons like their virgins." Dean smirked. "They're missin' out, skippin' the women with experience."

"Dude, I do not want to hear any stories. Don't traumatize me again."

Dean laughed and tossed the picture back on the table. "Spoilsport."

"We need to go up to the reservoir and look around." Sam set the folder down and raised a hand. "I'll be fine. It's early enough in the day we can go look around, and the reports say the bodies were found in the mornings, meaning the creature, whatever it is, is dumping them off at night. It'll be safe enough."

"Safe enough," Dean repeated with a dirty look at this brother. "Have you forgotten you've still got vetala poison in your veins?" He stood and kicked his chair. "Dammit, Sammy. You were one bite away from knockin' on heaven's door a day and a half ago, and I'm not sure we've got anymore 'get-out-of-death free' cards left in the deck!"

"Well, you're not going alone," Sam said calmly. He understood Dean's protective anger; on some level, Dean was still afraid that he'd look away and Sam would end up eating a bullet from his own gun to escape the devil in his head. Sam couldn't even blame him for it, because that moment in the warehouse with Lucifer still haunted him as he knew it haunted his big brother.

"Hey." Dean kicked Sam's ankle when he saw his brother's eyes go distant, staring unseeingly at the floor. "You alright?"

Sam gave himself a shake and smiled. "Yeah. Fine. Just thinking."

"Uh-huh." Dean wasn't sure he believed that, but he'd trust Sam for now, so long as he wasn't out of his sight. "Alright. We'll go check out the reservoir." He held up a hand before Sam could speak. "But we are not splitting up. You don't leave my damn sight, and if you even feel like you're gonna pass out again – 'cause three times in twenty-four hours is bad even for us - you tell me and we leave."

Sam huffed out a breath but didn't argue. It was concession enough that Dean wasn't going to fight him on searching together. "Fine. But you have to stop hovering so hard."

"No, I don't," Dean retorted easily and gave his brother a cheeky smile, turning away before Sam could glare at him. "You need help getting your shoes on, princess?"

"You are such an ass."

"I know I have a great ass." Dean slapped his, purposefully misinterpreting what Sam had said and chuckled at the low, annoyed groan it earned him. "Let's boogie."

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Sam tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply as the wind blew the fresh scent from the towering spruce trees around the reservoir to him. He felt a smile crease his face, and just as he felt calm begin to flow through his mind, cold hands slid up the back of his shoulders and onto his neck as the voice he feared and hated breathed in his ear.

"Wanna go skinny-dippin', bunk buddy?"

Sam jerked forward and spun to face the devil snickering behind him. "Shut up," he whispered harshly.

Lucifer shook his head with a fond smile and hooked a thumb to his left toward the lake. "Come on. One quick dip. Dean'll never even know we're gone."

Sam opened his mouth to tell him to leave him alone and jerked with a gasp as his left hand was grabbed and something sharp dug into his palm. He spun and found his brother beside him, digging his thumbnail into Sam's palm and his eyes locked on his own. "Dean."

Dean gave a tight nod but didn't let up the pressure on his brother's hand. "He gone yet?"

Sam flinched and forced himself to look around. The relief that flowed through him finding Lucifer gone nearly made him weak in the knees. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Thanks."

"Stone number one, buddy." Dean released his brother's hand with a quick glance to make sure he hadn't broken the skin, and then clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder. If he lingered a moment longer than necessary, Sam didn't call him on it. He figured they both needed the tactile reassurance. "You good?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded and meant it. Inwardly, he railed at himself for letting the devil in again and allowing the hallucination to distract him from what was important. They weren't sure what they were hunting and he didn't want to be the reason Dean got hurt. That kind of guilt ran both ways. He was not going to let his inability to tell reality from illusion get Dean killed. "So, the, uh… the dump site… should be just up there near the beach."

Dean gave a nod and matched Sam's slower stride through the trees. He was definitely going to be keeping a closer eye on him. He stayed firmly on Sam's left in case he needed to grab that hand again. He knew it was unhealthy, the coping mechanism he'd given Sam, but it was all they had against the hell trying to crush his little brother's mind from the inside. He whipped a hand out and caught the shoulder of Sam's jacket to tug him away from a tree when he staggered suddenly. "What?"

"Uh… snake," Sam said and made an effort not to look over his shoulder at the smoking coil of hellfire covered chain he could still hear hissing on the ground behind them.

"Right." Dean didn't believe it for a moment. He moved closer to Sam without really thinking about it, as though some part of his mind were afraid Sam would suddenly break and run to get away from the hell in his head, and he needed to be close enough to catch him.

"I'm fine," Sam muttered and flicked his eyes over to his brother, but Dean's gaze was studiously on the trees around them. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned toward the beach, aware that Dean stayed no more than a foot away from him. It was both suffocating and comforting. "There," Sam said when his eyes found a piece of the yellow crime scene tape from the police that had been there the day before.

"Yeah, I see it." Dean felt his nerves begin to tingle as they moved out of the tree cover and into the open space surrounding the reservoir. He suddenly didn't like being so exposed, especially with no clear idea of just what it was they were hunting. "Pay attention."

"You pay attention." Sam shot back and gave Dean a gentle shove away from him. "Some of us are actually looking at the crime scene for clues."

"Whatever." Dean reluctantly let Sam move away from him. He shook his head and turned to look at the trees behind them. The leaves glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, and he felt it warm the back of his neck. He scanned the trunks of the trees for any marks out of place but found nothing. "Don't think it came through the trees." He turned back around and squinted as the sun glared off the waters of the reservoir into his eyes. "Some friggin' clouds would be nice."

Sam chuckled and ducked his head, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes as he knelt beside the impression the woman's body had left in the softened earth. He shaded his eyes with a hand and looked up along the water's edge. "Hey, what's that?"

"What?" Dean followed his brother's gaze but didn't see what had caught his eye.

"I think there are more indentations over there." Sam pointed with his other hand. "About fifty yards."

"I'll check it out. You. Stay." Dean pointed imperiously at the spot where Sam was kneeling before walking away.

Sam rolled his eyes fondly and looked back down. "Not a dog, Dean," he muttered and closed his eyes to give them a rest from the sun.

Dean looked out over the water and instantly regretted it as the sun glared off the ripples into his eyes momentarily blinding him. He put a hand up to shade them and kept his head down, watching the ground at his feet. His boots sank into the sand and dirt beneath the scrub grass, making each step feel like the ground was trying to hold onto his feet. He was sweating by the time he reached the indentations Sam had spotted, and he moved to put his back to the lake and the sun.

"What the hell?" Dean knelt down for a better look and ran his fingers lightly along the side of the deep impression. "Dude!" he called. "This thing has three toes and it's damn big!" The print was of a three-toed foot several feet long and at least a foot wide. It made him nervous.

"And it flies! Dean!"

Sam's voice raised in a warning shout brought Dean up in a jerk of motion. He saw Sam stagger back a step and followed his eyes up toward the sun where something huge was arrowing down toward him. "Shit!" Dean ran. He jerked his gun from the back of his pants and reached his brother in a skidding slide, putting himself in front of Sam. "We do not have the firepower for this!" He watched the shadow grow, backlit by the sun, and, as it came so close he could hear the roar of its wings, he turned and shoved Sam down to the ground along with himself.

Sam gasped as he impacted the ground and lost his breath again when Dean's weight dropped heavily on his back. "Shit," he wheezed and sucked in a grateful breath when Dean rolled away from him as a loud 'whoosh' and gust of wind ripped over them. He rolled to his back and got to his knees with Dean beside him and looked up into the sky. "Where'd it go?"

"Over the trees. Come on." Dean scrambled to his feet and pulled Sam up with him. "Go. Go!" He gave him a shove toward the tree line and followed at a run. "We need a bigger gun. You see that thing?"

"It looked like…" Sam huffed and staggered as they gained the trees. The sudden shadow after the glaring sun made him a little dizzy, but Dean was there to catch his arm and steady him without slowing.

"Dragon," Dean finished and shook his head. "Like… St. George and the save-the-helpless-maiden kinda dragon. What the hell?"

Sam scowled as they jogged through the trees. He tried watching the boughs above them for a sign of the creature but only succeeded in nearly face-planting into a tree before Dean grabbed his arm and yanked him clear. "I don't think it's the same as the other dragons."

"The ones who… watch it, Sam!" Dean caught Sam's shoulder as his brother stumbled on a root and nearly went down yet again. He swore in his head, because running through the forest from a flying dragon was not a good idea for someone only a day from losing half his blood volume. It was a miracle Sam was even still on his feet at that point. "The dragons who let loose monster-momma?"

"Yeah." Sam was gasping for breath. His stomach was churning and his head swimming. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do more, throw up or pass out. "Looked more like giant… giant bats, those guys… I think. Big… black."

"Christ, Sammy, stop talkin'," Dean slowed their pace and finally stopped. He leaned Sam against the wide bole of a tree to let him catch his breath. "Just breathe, dude."

"M'fine," Sam protested, but it was weak even to his own ears. He smirked over at his brother. "Winchester luck, huh?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah. So much for a walk in the park. Stay here."

"Dean…"

"I'm just gonna see if I can hear the damn thing. Stay put. I mean it." Dean glared at his brother until Sam gave him a grudging nod. He moved slowly away and kept his steps light and his eyes up to the tree tops above. It was cooler under the canopy. The trees were bushy enough that the sun only dappled the ground, flashing in his eyes here and there as he moved and the wind shifted the canopy. It was quiet, and Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; too quiet.

"No birds."

Dean nodded with his brother's soft observation. "Yeah." It was all the proof he needed that the creature was still around. He flexed his hand around the grip of his gun and wished he'd brought a rifle. Dean rolled his eyes at the thought and wished instead for a bazooka - something that could take down an actual dragon. He didn't even think those things were real. Chalk up another What-the-fuck to their list. He was perhaps thirty feet from his brother when he heard the first crackling sound. He froze. "What the -?" Dean turned, sniffing the air, and fell back in shock when a wall of flames erupted into the air between him and Sam.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. He pushed off the tree toward the flames and tried to see a way around them. The wall spread and began to curve.

"Hang on!" Dean swallowed down his innate fear of fire anywhere near his family and ran. He leaped up and through the fire, grunted out a strained breath when he hit the ground on the other side, and rolled to a stop. "Crap."

"Are you nuts?" Sam demanded and dropped to his knees beside Dean. He batted out an ember trying to catch on the back of his brother's shoulder and slapped harder than he needed to out of fear of having just watched that happen. "You could have been roasted."

Dean climbed to his knees and sat back. He ran his hands over his head and smiled to feel all his hair still there. "I'm Batman. Come on."

Sam couldn't help the chuckle while Dean tugged him to his feet. He looked at the flames and marveled that the entire floor of the forest hadn't caught. "It has to be the dragon. Somehow it's controlling the fire."

"Thought they were supposed to breathe fire." Dean slid a step in front of his brother when the fiery wall stopped expanding and began to curve in toward them. "Uh…"

"Yeah." Sam took a step back, pulling Dean with him. "We should, uh…"

"Lake?"

"Not a lot of choices." Sam scowled. "It's herding us."

"Go already." Dean gave Sam a push behind him and backed away from the fire. He could feel the heat warming his face and his chest as they moved and it moved with them. "I don't like this." He turned to follow Sam's retreating steps and yelped as the fire suddenly roared to life, whipped out ahead of him, and cut him off from his brother. "Sammy!" He heard Sam call his name over the sound of the inferno and braced himself to dive through the flames again. The sunlight that glittered on the ground around him was blotted out suddenly, and Dean heard that same, roaring wind from the beach.

"Sammy, look out!" Dean bellowed in warning. He raised his gun up, trying to find something to shoot at and heard Sam's gun go off three times, then a short, pained shout from his brother, and the wind of the creature's passing faded into the distance. "SAM!" He took a step back, ready to leap through the fire a second time when the flames went out with an audible pop. The crackling of singed leaves filled the air around him. The birds slowly began to sing again in the distance, and Dean saw no sign of his little brother.

"Sam! You answer me!" Dean ran toward the last place he had seen him. He slid to a stop and bent down. Sam's gun lay among the leaves, and Dean knew as dread fell heavily into his stomach, the creature had taken him.

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Dean slammed into the motel room hard enough that the door bounced back and nearly caught him in the face. He stopped it at the last second and banged it closed behind him ignoring the bag that toppled off the table beside it to the floor with the impact. He stood beside the door and stared into the room as though he could force Sam to appear through will alone. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shrugged his jacket off. It still smelled of smoke, and he tossed it onto his bed. His eyes passed over the empty bed beyond, against the wall, and he looked quickly away. He wished for the hundredth time that the creature had taken him instead. Dean had spent every last moment of daylight searching the reservoir, but there had been no sign of his brother or the dragon that had made off with him. Nothing.

"I'm gonna find you, Sammy," Dean said softly and fiercely. "And you're damn well gonna hold on until I do." He went to the table and sat down pulling the laptop over and turned it on. Research was never his favorite thing to do, and he happily turned that over to his geek brother as Sam seemed to enjoy the puzzle so much. That didn't mean he wasn't good at it. Dean snorted as he started pulling up any page he could find on flying creatures of myth. He quickly became frustrated, however, as every search he could think of netted him little more than Dungeons and Dragons links or snippets from video games he had never heard of.

Dean didn't know how long he had spent hunched over the laptop, arguing with the internet in his efforts before he finally stood up from the table with a snarl for his inability to find something useful. "Dammit!" he shouted. Dean kicked the end of his bed and looked at the mess that had tumbled from the fallen bag by the door. He sighed and knelt down. He and Sam had collected every journal and notebook of Bobby's they could find, and he carefully gathered each of them up like they were precious. In a way they were; they were his last connection to another father he wasn't sure he could live without. He felt moisture gather in his eyes and brushed it away irritably.

"Dammit." Dean shook his head at himself in disgust. He straightened the books in his hands and saw the corner of one more under the edge of the bed. He reached, catching the edge and pulled it out into the light. He almost flipped it closed before he realized what he was looking at and froze - a simplified drawing of the creature that had taken his brother. Somehow, the hunter's journal had fallen open to just the right page. He let the other books fall from his hand and picked the new one up carefully, almost afraid to disturb it. "Son of a bitch."

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Cold was the first thing that Sam became aware of. His body was shuddering strongly enough to make his breathing uneven. As he focused on that, he realized he was also wet, like he'd taken a swim in a cold lake and forgotten to dry off. He could feel his clothes sticking to him, seeming to make him colder rather than warming him. He remembered the reservoir and the heat, and confusion swirled through his mind as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

"Dean," Sam coughed out his brother's name and winced at the sound of his own voice. The movement sent fresh pain burning through his back and he rolled sluggishly to his side. "God," he gasped. He fought to open his eyes and blinked furiously to clear his blurry vision while he wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered. "D-Dean?" he whispered, and this time heard his voice echo lightly. Flames crackled near him, and Sam cautiously lifted his head up off the cold stone beneath him. Small fires burned here and there, lending a flickering, dim light that allowed Sam to see he was in some sort of large, stone chamber. The smell hit him next - rotting meat. It burned up into his eyes, his nose, and down his throat and he scrambled to his knees to retch as his stomach protested.

Sam's arms shook with weakness as the heaving finally died away, and he spit the foul taste from his mouth, somehow managing to push up until he was sitting. He rubbed his sleeve over his mouth and chin and coughed again as he really took a look around. "Dean?" he called again, managing some respectable volume that time, but, though he heard his voice echo again, there was still no response other than the crackling of flames. He dug his right thumb into the scar on the palm of his left hand until his eyes burned with unshed tears but, as he looked around, the nightmare surrounding him was firmly in place. "Shit," he gasped and wasn't sure if anything he was seeing was real anymore. The floor of the chamber around him was littered with piles of clothes and trash, some of them serving as tinder for the fires that gave him light. He glanced to his right and the closest flames and jerked back in surprise. A pile of darkly glistening intestines rested only a foot away from him.

"Jesus." Sam hunched forward with a fresh wave of pain. He awkwardly felt along his back and found what he knew was fresh blood and open wounds. As he did, he had a sudden flash of a dragon swooping down on him in the forest and he remembered what had happened. The memory gave him strength. He struggled to his feet with the sudden need to find his brother, to make sure that Dean wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere in one of the trash piles. "Dean? Can you hear me?"

Sam staggered to the nearest pile. It was almost as high as his chest and near the center of the room. As he looked around, he saw three tunnels leading off from the chamber. He looked up at the ceiling and frowned. "M'I in a sewer?" He sniffed a little more deeply, trying to set aside the rotting smells for others and shook his head. "Sewer. I'm in a… where's a sewer?" He bent down and carefully climbed the side of the heap. He grimaced as it shifted beneath his weight. Jackets and books, old water bottles, and even a radio toppled to the stone behind him with a clatter until he reached the top.

"Oh, God," Sam breathed the words. The heap was more of a nest. It sloped down from where he knelt, created of the castoffs from other victims like himself, and pieces of those poor souls covered the bottom in a horrifying compost heap of internal organs and bone. The smell was an almost visible cloud in the air, and the breath clogged in his lungs as Sam threw himself backward and rolled down the side of the heap to the ground. He wheezed and coughed, trying to catch his breath while his eyes ran tears down his face and his vision blurred anew. His only comfort in that moment was that he had seen nothing of his brother's, no identifiable remnants of Dean.

He forced his arms to take his weight and slowly regained his knees. The pain from the wounds in his back was a little worse, and he knew now they had been caused by the creature when it grabbed him. Sam had a vague memory of the dragon-like beast staring at him with huge gold eyes while its claws wrapped around his ribs and into his back.

Sam ran his hands over his face, brushing reactionary tears from his eyes and tried to breathe around the burning in his lungs. He stopped and tensed as a new sound softly echoed in the chamber above his own wheezing breaths and the crackling of the fires. He raised his head, listening. There was a slithering sound and the scrape of something hard over stone; claws, Sam thought.

"Crap," he whispered. Sam glanced frantically around the chamber for anything he could use as a weapon. He staggered to his feet ignoring the swimming in his head as he searched. The sounds grew louder, and Sam spotted the end of some sort of pole sticking out from the bottom of the nest. He grabbed it and pulled. He grunted with effort as the pile of debris shifted and the rotting odor intensified, making his eyes water anew. The sounds of the approaching creature grew louder and he pulled harder. The metal pole slid out a few inches. Sam gritted his teeth, planted a foot on the side of the nest and strained backward. The pole slid free in a rush and sent him to the ground with a pained yelp for his abused back. Stars filled his vision for a moment, and the sounds of the dragon's approach stopped. Sam gasped and rolled to his side with his prize. The pole was a good ten feet long and thin. It wasn't much of a weapon but it was all he had.

"Hurt?"

Sam spun in surprise at the soft, deep voice behind him. The movement, too fast for his concussed head, sent him to his knees and he squinted to try and focus on the dark figure in the mouth of one of the tunnels. "Hello?" Sam felt down his left leg and smiled a little. His backup knife was still down his boot. He slipped it out and pulled a scrap of cloth from the nearby pile. "Are you hurt? Did you see where it went?"

The dark figure shuffled a few more feet into the room. "Hurt you?"

Sam shook his head and bent, using the cloth to wrap his knife to the end of the pole as tightly as he could. "I'll be alright. What about you? Did it hurt you when it dragged you down here?"

"Hurt."

Sam tapped the blade against the floor and then stopped as a cold feeling washed over his skin. He looked up at the figure and slowly regained his feet. It was a man, Sam could tell that much, but he still hadn't come in far enough for the meager light from the fires to reach him. "Who are you?" He settled his makeshift spear in his hands and took an unsteady step closer. "Let me see you."

"Protected."

Sam scowled as the single word came from the man. He drew closer and knew, somehow, that the man he was looking at wasn't human. "What are you?"

"Special."

"What?" Sam stopped and backed up a pace as the figure moved again, coming further into the chamber. His eyes widened as the flickering light finally found the figure. It was only vaguely human, man-like, but it was as though someone had forgotten to paint his face. He was a blurred shadow of a man with no eyes or mouth that Sam could see.

"Protected you." The figure tilted its odd head to the side. "Special." It began to swell in size, growing taller and taller until its head brushed the ceiling. "Mine now."

Sam swallowed and stared up at the thing. He couldn't understand what connection this thing had with the dragon that had taken him. "Is it controlling you?" he asked softly and backed away another step as the now enormous figure took another pace toward him. "Or are you controlling it? The dragon, did you tell it to take me?" He shivered as a new sound filled the chamber, and it was several moments before he realized it was laughter. It was laughing at him. "What the hell are you?"

Sam gasped as the human figure burst into flames. He staggered back as the heat roiled out at him. He could feel his skin tightening and stopped only when his feet hit the side of the nest. A moment later, the flames exploded and drove Sam to his knees to cover his head. He looked up cautiously over his arm and reared back against the nest as the form of the dragon erupted up out of the flames to loom over him.

"Shit. Shit. Oh, shit." Sam used the butt of his spear to regain his feet and moved away around the side of the nest while the dragon's head lowered to peer at him. It wasn't often he had no idea what he was dealing with, and it left him feeling helpless. He took a deep breath, pushing away the pain of his injuries, and hefted the spear as it stalked closer to him.

"Stay back," Sam warned. He watched the dragon reach an arm out and Sam took his chance. He darted in under its reach and stabbed the knife at the end of his spear up into its chest. The creature roared, rearing back, and Sam grunted in pain as its other arm slammed into him and sent him flying. He was surprised when, instead of being splattered against a stone wall, he landed on something relatively soft. His relief was short-lived as he realized it was the creature's nest and he was sliding down toward the charnel pit at the bottom. "No. No." He stopped his slide as his feet slid into the pile of mangled body parts, and the stench roiled up stronger than ever to choke him. The creature roared again. Sam's eyes were watering so hard he could only see the blurry shadow of the thing as it appeared over him. He tightened his grip on the spear he had somehow managed to hold on to and yelled in pain as he was picked up in a clawed hand and raised out of the nest.

He was going to die. Sam was fairly sure that this time, he wasn't going to get away. His head rolled to the side and he flinched to find Lucifer standing at the edge of the nest, clapping and laughing.

"Oh, Sammy!" Lucifer did a little jig on the rim of the nest and slapped a hand over his own heart. "When you go out, you do it with style! I'll give you that, bunk buddy! Eaten by a dragon!"

"Shuddup," Sam gasped. He turned back to the dragon as it opened its jaws wide. He could feel claws beginning to slice into the flesh of his sides, and he knew he was out of time. He pulled his right arm back and thrust the point of the spear into the creature's mouth as far as he could.

"Bad idea, Sam!" Lucifer shouted above the creature's scream. "Think you just pissed it off!"

Sam ignored the devil and rammed the spear home one more time. The dragon flung him again, and this time Sam met the wall in a crushing impact that took all the air from his lungs on a shout. He slammed into the ground on his side and couldn't move. His body was no longer answering his commands. He had no choice but to watch while Lucifer knelt beside him and the dragon tried to claw the lance out of its throat.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." Lucifer tsked and shook his head sadly. He carded his fingers tenderly back through Sam's dark hair, heedless of the blood and other things tangled in it, and smirked as Sam made a weak effort to jerk his head away. "This is gonna be a short farewell if you don't take a breath there, buddy." He chuckled while Sam's mouth gaped open silently and shrugged. "Ah well, I can talk enough for the both of us." He bent down and tweaked the end of Sam's nose. "I just can't wait to have you back where I want you - alone, in the cage, with me, warmin' my bunk for a few more centuries. Yeah buddy."

Sam gasped in a breath. It hurt and he slammed his eyes closed while Lucifer's taunting words worked through him. He remembered then what Dean had shown him in the warehouse, that pain could be used because it was different here, in the real world. He certainly had enough of it to work with. He curved his spine, pressing his already mangled back into the stone. Fresh pain burned into him, stealing what little breath he had. He risked a look and slumped with relief as the pain did the job of making the devil flicker and vanish. He began to chuckle breathlessly as he slumped into the wall at his back, watching the dragon as it finally pulled his spear from its mouth and roared at him.

"Rather be eaten," Sam panted. "S'better than…" He coughed. "…than hell-vision." He watched the dragon fix him with rage-filled eyes and knew he was done. He hurt so much, death would almost be a relief, but he felt a crushing weight of grief in his chest that he was going to leave his brother alone again. He said a silent prayer that, this time, Dean would make no deals to bring him back. "Dean," Sam whispered it like a prayer, a wish, and a farewell. A roar of sound came from Sam's left, filling the chamber, and it took him a moment to realize it was an angry battle cry as Dean suddenly charged in from the nearest tunnel. Sam stared, dumbfounded and dazed, while his big brother miraculously appeared and ran straight for the dragon. He wanted to call out to him and go help, but his weary body was no longer obeying his commands and all he could do was watch.

Dean had heard Sam's voice echo up the tunnel to him and didn't need to see him to know that sound meant he was hurt. He rushed headlong out of the tunnel and into a large cistern chamber; one of many he had seen on a map of the sewers. He put himself between the creature and his brother and brandished the spear in his right hand. He let the other three he had brought with him drop to the floor in a clatter. "Alright, ugly. My turn." The smell of rotting flesh assaulted Dean's senses as he stood there. His nose and lungs were burning, his eyes were watering, and he opened them wide to keep them clear while he faced down the beast. He saw blood falling out of the dragon's mouth as it roared at him and Dean smirked with the sure knowledge his brother had somehow caused that.

"Bit off more than you could chew, huh?" Dean backed up a few paces and readied his spear. He'd have felt more comfortable with a gun, but there had been no time to figure out a way to make bullets out of moonstone once he'd found what they were hunting.

"That's it. Come on," Dean called, keeping the beast's attention on him. "I got your number, pal." He watched it rear back, and as the great head lunged down for him, Dean danced away to the side and stabbed the moonstone-tipped point of his spear into its right eye. He shoved hard so it was wedged into the eye socket and backed up collecting another spear from the three he had dropped. He risked a glance over his shoulder for his brother, and it worried him that Sam had barely moved, still collapsed on his side against the wall.

"Dammit." Dean turned back and ducked around a wing as it nearly took his head off. He came out on the beast's left side, watched it as it roared and clawed at the spear protruding from the other side of its head, and then he lunged in again. The second spear glanced off the creature's jaw and slid into the left eye socket with a sickening sound as the ball popped. Dean gagged and stumbled backward as the viscous, milky liquid splashed down the front of his shirt.

"Ugh!" Dean saw the creature turn and threw himself to the ground as its tail swept out where he'd been standing. "Shit. Ok. That's disgusting." He crawled to his last two spears and grabbed one before getting back to his feet. The dragon was roaring and completely blind as Dean advanced cautiously. He moved around a pile of discarded belongings and hefted the spear in both hands. He waited for it to reach up with both arms again, trying to save its eyes, and then shoved the spear and its moonstone head into the creature's chest. He shoved, putting all his weight behind it and hoped he had aimed true. He grunted in pain as one of its wings caught him in the shoulder suddenly when it thrashed, and he was thrown back to slide up against the base of the nest.

"Crap," Dean gasped. He sat up as quickly as he could and watched warily as the creature wrapped its claws around the spear in its chest and then toppled to the side to crash to the floor. He regained his feet, rubbing his right shoulder and the new ache there. Dean scooped up his last spear and waited. The beast thrashed a few more times and then went still with a pitiful wail. Dean grinned. "Gotcha."

"Dean."

"Sammy." Dean spun at the sound of his brother's raspy voice. He jogged over and knelt beside him, setting the spear aside. "Hey, buddy. What'd that overgrown lizard do to you?"

Sam smiled, still in a daze of pain and blood loss. He wasn't sure Dean was even there or just another hallucination, and, at that moment, he didn't care. "Chewtoy."

"Yeah, no kidding." Dean scowled as he gently pulled Sam's shirts up and got a glimpse of the bloody wounds in his sides. He carefully pulled his brother's shoulder toward him and wasn't surprised to see more wounds on his back. "Geez, man. You're a mess."

"What -" Sam coughed and swallowed. He tried to lift his head and sighed in relief when Dean's hand slipped beneath his jaw to hold his head up for him. "What was it?"

Dean smiled. "Zoomie." He frowned at Sam's snort but couldn't hold it and ended up smiling again. "Zmeu. One big, nasty, Romanian lizard. Toast."

Sam groaned as Dean slowly lifted him up until he was sitting, braced against his big brother's shoulder. "M'impressed. S'good research."

"Hey, I can research." Dean sighed and chuckled. "Actually, I got lucky. Found it in one of Bobby's old journals." He shifted Sam forward a little and tried to decide how best to get him on his feet. "According to the lore, they can appear as dragons or flickering flames. And they're intelligent supposedly."

"Talked," Sam gasped as he tried to help Dean get him off the floor. "It… talked. Said I was… ow… special and protected. What… what'd it mean?"

Dean ran his free hand over the back of his neck and coughed. "Yeah, it, uh… these things like to kidnap - well, protected - people. In their minds anyway. Zoomba there would take them away, horde them for a while, and then eat 'em like treats." He snorted a laugh and held onto his brother firmly as he got them both to their feet. "The legends all say they kidnapped princesses. Must be the hair, princess."

"Shuddup," Sam groaned, half in pain, half in amusement. "It's cause you…" He panted and locked his traitorous knees to stay standing. "You… mother hen."

"Am not." Dean slid Sam's arm over his shoulders, accepting his little brother's weight without comment. "Ok, maybe a little." He caught the glance Sam sent him and laughed. "Yeah, whatever. Can you blame me?"

Sam shook his head and took a few unsteady steps with Dean's help. "Sure it's dead?"

"Yep." Dean looked over at the lifeless hulk of the zmeu and smiled. "Moonstone spearhead to the heart. Dude, I met the sexiest chick in the shop where I got the moonstones. You'd love the place. Pansy-ass crystals and dreamcatchers everywhere, and the place reeks of patchouli."

"Again, shut up." Sam held his breath as they rounded the outstretched wing of the zmeu and left the chamber behind. "How'd you… find me?"

"Dude, stop talkin'," Dean said as he braced Sam against his side.

Sam shook his head. "Take my… my mind off… how much it hur-hurts."

"Ok. Ok." Dean knew when he did finally get Sam topside, he was dumping him in the nearest clinic, leviathans be damned. Sam had lost too much blood for him to be comfortable trying to fix him up in a motel bathroom. He was reasonably sure that his little brother had no idea it had been over thirty hours since the zmeu had taken him. "Had to do a little digging on my own. The lore said they nest in caves, but there aren't any around here; least not any big enough for that thing. So, like last time, I figured sewers are kinda like caves and pulled up plans of the system under the city." He smiled, seeing Sam nod his head in agreement with his reasoning. "Two big cisterns in the city sewers, and the one at the other end of the city is used for runoff from the reservoir, so had to be this one."

"Nice… nice job." Sam smiled and looked over at Dean's face again, still trying to decide if his brother was really there or not.

"Hey," Dean said and frowned, seeing the strange look on Sam's face. He stopped them walking, well, shuffling, and caught his brother's jaw in his palm to get a better look at him. "You alright? Lookin' a little glazed there, little brother."

"S'donut," Sam said and gave a soft chuckle.

Dean watched him and then saw his brother's left hand twitch, the fingers curling in to press against his palm, and he sighed. "Sammy. Hey, hey look at me." He tilted Sam's head up and met his eyes, so similar to his own. "I'm real, Sammy. I'm right here. You're safe now, alright?"

Sam studied Dean's face, the expression in his eyes, and felt the pain from his various injuries working through him. Most important of all was the complete lack of the devil anywhere he could see or hear, and he chose to trust in Dean as he always had. "Stone… number one. Yeah."

It choked Dean up, hearing those words from Sam again, and he tightened his grip around him as he got them moving again. "Have you patched up in no time."

"Lost… lot'a blood," Sam slurred and swallowed hard several times.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. You'll be fine."

"No, Dean." Sam shook his head and tried to stop walking but his brother kept pulling him along. "Blood… blood loss. M'gonna…"

"Huh?" Dean looked over a beat too late as Sam suddenly began to throw up. "Crap!" He yelped and only barely kept Sam from collapsing to his knees. He grimaced as some of the puke spattered onto his boots and rolled his eyes. "This is not my best day ever."

Sam spat the foul taste out of his mouth and straightened up again with Dean's help. "S'just… just puke." He chuckled. "Not the first time… I've heaved on you."

"Eyeball juice!" Dean exclaimed and waved at the wet stains down the front of his shirt. "I've got dragon eyeball juice all over me! That ain't washin' out!"

Sam laughed, he couldn't help it with Dean's outraged voice carrying through the tunnel. It pulled the wounded muscles in his back and sides and left him gasping. "Don't… don't make me laugh. Crap."

Dean snorted but the humor quickly faded as Sam's weight grew against his side. "Sammy?" He grunted when his little brother's legs went out and he staggered, propping Sam between himself and the wall. "Dammit, dude. You couldn't have waited to faint on me until we were outta here?" He sighed, bent, and awkwardly slid his over-tall little brother across his shoulders. "You… owe me… case of beer."

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Dean surfed through the channels on the little television in the corner of the hospital room. His head was propped in his hand with his elbow resting on the bed beside his brother's shoulder. He had been forced to hide in the little closet in the room to avoid being kicked out after visiting hours. It had been one hell of a tight fit, but there was no way he was leaving Sam alone and unprotected in a hospital until they found a way to cork the leviathans back up again. He flicked his eyes to the clock, seeing how long he had until the night nurse came back to check on Sam and sighed.

"Five more minutes of shit-tv before I gotta sardine myself back in that damn closet." Dean sighed and then yelped as his elbow was pushed out from beneath him and his head slapped into the side of the bed. "What the…" His curse gave way to a grin when he found Sam's eyes open and watching him, filled with amusement. "That's gonna cost ya', little brother," He warned with a warm smile and moved to sit on the side of the bed. "How you feelin'?"

Sam chuckled softly and rubbed a hand over his face. "Alright, I guess." He saw the look of disbelief on his brother's face and rolled eyes. "I hurt, dude. Of course. But I mean, I feel alright otherwise, I think."

"You're three stitches shy of the Winchester record," Dean informed him seriously. "Between your sides and your back where the zoomie had its claws in you, the docs were amazed nothing vital got hit."

"Shit." Sam moved as though to sit up and wasn't surprised when Dean planted a hand in the center of his chest and kept him lying down.

"Dude, you do not wanna try sitting up right now. Trust me." Dean smirked while Sam groaned and gave in. "Now, you gimme ten minutes to round up a wheelchair and distract the nurses and I'll get you outta here."

"I can walk," Sam objected though he was comforted about his general well-being if Dean was ready to break him out.

Dean snorted derisively at that idea. "No, you can't. You'd land on your face." He waved a hand at the head of the bed. "They're still toppin' up your tanks, princess."

"Stop calling me princess."

"Nope." Dean grinned and went to the closet, pulling the door open. "Damsel in distress, Sammy. The zoomba picked on you for a reason. Now don't let the nurse know I'm in here."

"Keep calling me 'princess' and I'm definitely going to tell her there's a freak in my closet." Sam chuckled while Dean squeezed himself into the small space and pulled the door closed. He coughed to muffle the laughter when the door to his room opened and a sweet looking nurse with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail came in.

"Mr. Atwell! It's good to see you awake!"

Sam raised a brow at the name and rolled with it. "Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm Aileen. I'll be your nurse tonight." Aileen smiled as she straightened the sheet over the young man's chest. She frowned then and patted his shoulder. "You really shouldn't be on your back with those injuries."

"Doesn't really hurt," Sam assured her. It was becoming very difficult not to burst out laughing because Aileen was exactly the sort of woman his brother would hit on. He couldn't believe Dean was missing her.

Aileen chuckled. "That would be the pain medication we've got you on. Still, though, let me help."

Sam tried to wave her off, but she was determined and soon had him on his side, propped up with pillows at his back before he could put up much of an argument. He huffed out a breath while he blushed. "Uh, thanks. Thank you."

"Better?" Aileen checked his pulse and the various monitors attached to him with a practiced, thorough hand before stepping back. "I'll let you get some sleep and I promise, I'll try not to wake you when I come back in thirty minutes. Do you need anything?"

"No. No, thank you." Sam smiled at her and she was barely out the door before the closet popped open and Dean emerged.

"Was she as hot as she sounded?" Dean demanded softly. He went to the door and peeked outside, watching Aileen's retreating back before she vanished around a corner. "She sounded hot."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, dude. She was hot. You sure you want to bust me out of here tonight?"

Dean groaned and nodded. "Gotta do it. Bein' in here's makin' my teeth itch." He shrugged and laughed. "Keep waiting for someone to try and eat me. Stay put. I'll be right back."

Sam rolled his eyes and watched Dean leave. Aileen's ministrations had shown him that he had very little energy and certainly not enough to get out of the bed and escape on his own. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed. He startled when the sheet was torn away from him in rush of cool air and gasped. Sam opened his eyes to find his brother standing at the foot of his bed and laughing. "You asshat!"

Dean grinned and pushed a wheelchair up to the side of the bed. "Your face. Holy crap. That was awesome. Fell asleep and didn't even realize it, didn't you?"

"I hate you," Sam grumbled. He let Dean help him sit up and had to grit his teeth as it pulled the stitched wounds on his sides and back. He was panting for breath by the time he was sitting in the chair.

"No, you don't," Dean said surely. He patted his brother's shoulder then tossed the sheet from the bed over his legs. "Have you back at Chez Winchester in twenty minutes and you can sack out for a couple days."

Sam nodded and reluctantly let Dean push him from the room and into the hall. It was quiet and he smiled as they managed to reach the nearest elevator without being caught. "That was lucky."

Dean pushed Sam into the elevator car and waited for the doors to close. "Not really. Someone may have wheeled an old lady from the geriatric ward downstairs into a room on the other side of this floor and told her it was soup day at lunch. She's got no idea what time it is." He smirked at the look of disbelief on Sam's face. "What? Doris was game, man. She loves her soup."

"Oh, my God." Sam laughed even as he groaned. "You are unbelievable."

Dean scoffed. "I'm a Winchester, Sammy. We make our own luck." He grinned as he pushed a laughing Sam out of the elevator into the parking level. "And Doris really, really wants her alphabet soup. That's good stuff!"

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The End.