"Sammy, do you want to get tacos for dinner?"

Nothing.

"Dude. Tacos?"

Nothing.

I looked over at Sammy. The poor kid was knocked out. His head was bouncing against the window in a way that somehow doesn't give him migraines. He managed to get curled up with his knees in the side of the door.

I sighed. Drive-thru it is. The kid has had a rough time sleeping recently, I wasn't going to ruin the little bit of sleep that he was managing to get if I didn't have to.

The drive back to the motel room was quiet and boring. I kept the volume lower than usual to keep from waking Sammy up. But we were there now, so Sammy'd just have to deal with getting up.

"Sammy, dude, wake up."

Nothing.

I shook his shoulder.

"Sammy! Come on, dude. You never sleep this hard."

Nothing.

"Sammy? Wake up already. We need to get inside," I kept shaking him. I started to feel panicked. Did he get cursed? What if he was poisoned? Was Sammy dying? That'd be just like him- die as revenge for us needing to move again.

Nothing. A stab of panic flashed through me. I put my hand gently over his mouth and nose and was able to feel him breathing. The panic I had felt building in my chest instantly dispersed. Kid was fine, just being stubborn about waking up.

"Sammy? Don't tempt me to let you spend the night in the car!" I tried threatening.

Nothing. Didn't work.

I looked over at our motel room's door. Then I looked back at Sammy. I sighed. What's with Sammy today? It was the weekend, it's not like he could be exhausted from taking more finals. His last one was yesterday. I grabbed the take out bags and took them to the room.

Dad's day bag was still gone. He wasn't supposed to be back for another couple hours. Assuming that things went easily with the ghost haunting the Mason's old house.

I propped the motel room door open before going back to the car. Sammy may be a teenager, but he was still on the short side, so it wasn't too hard for me to pick the kid up. I nudged the door shut with my elbow and hurried back into the room. Sure, the kid was still small, but not small enough for me to want to linger around holding him. I set him on our bed. How the kid managed to sleep through all of that... it was impressive, to be honest. And it just made me think back to when me and Sammy would fall asleep in the backseat and I would wake up to Dad carrying me into whatever motel we were staying at. It was always so cool that he was able to carry both me and Sammy while we were sleeping and still bring in our stuff and open the door. I was convinced he was Superman or something.

I grabbed the salt before fixing the line in front of the door and checking the line in front of the windows. Still good.

I put aside Sammy's food in the mini-fridge in the room. Aside from the fried chicken from Walmart, which was dated for a week ago, there wasn't anything else in there. Well, he hopefully won't end up with radioactive poisoning or something from having his food so close to the chicken. Either way, he can deal considering I had to carry his ass into the room.

I sat down on Dad's bed and grabbed the remote and to start flipping through channels. Nascar. Golf. History Channel. Nascar. Spongebob. Sesame Street. More Nascar. You'd think these people like Nascar, it's not like they have like five channels all with different angles of the same race happening or something. Suite Life of Zach and Cody? Better than Nascar, I guess.

I ended up flipping through channels a few more times before Dad got home. He set his bag down on the desk and sighed. I sat up to look closer at him.

"How'd it go? Did you gank it?" I asked.

Dad shot me a grin. "Sure did. Things go well here?"

I started to nod, but I looked at Sammy again instead.

"Sammy's been conked out for awhile. I guess all those finals must have really wiped him out. I had to carry him into the room and he didn't even wake up the whole time," I told him.

Dad jerked his head to look closer at Sammy.

"What did you do to try and wake him up?" he asked.

"I just shook him a bunch and kept talking to him. Usually that's good enough. Besides, he hasn't slept through me dragging him out of the car in a long time," I said.

"Hmmm..." Dad walked over to Sammy and started checking his pockets. "Well, it doesn't look like he has anything cursed on him. Maybe he's just that exhausted. Kid needs to start drinking coffee," Dad muttered.

"So you think he's fine then?" I asked.

Dad nodded. "Yeah, there's no sign of a witch in town and he doesn't have anything cursed. Probably a safe bet that it wasn't anything supernatural this time. If he's still out by check out tomorrow I'll start making calls. But for now, I'm going to take a shower and get this ash off of me."

I watched Dad grab clothes out of his bag before heading into the bathroom. It didn't take long before I head the shower switch on. I stood up and stretched. Now that Dad was home, I needed to get off his bed. No point waiting for him to kick me off of it. Might as well change for bed too.

It was easy to shove Sam over to one side of the bed. After a bit of debate, I even yanked his shoes off and stuck him under the covers. Just because he's staying still for now, doesn't mean he'll stay that way, and I don't feel like being kicked while he's wearing shoes. And we don't need dirt in the sheets.

"So he hasn't woken up since yesterday evening? How was he acting before he fell asleep? Any migraines or backaches or something?"

"I wasn't there when he went to sleep, Dean had him. And what do you mean, does he have backaches? We live in a car, Jim!"

"I know you live in a freakin' car, John. So basically he could've, but it was probably from being squished in that old car of yours? Great. When'd he get his meningitis shot?"

"His appointment is next week."

"Fuck. John, I think you might need to go to the hospital. If he has meningitis, he could be on Death's Door. I mean it, John. I had somebody end up in a coma and die a few days later from meningitis before. I care about those boys too much to let you try and brush this off."

"What did Pastor Jim say?" I asked once Dad hung up the phone.

Dad sat down on the bed and just sighed. Shit. That can't be good.

"Dad?"

"He thinks it might be meningitis," Dad said.

I frowned as I tried to think of why that sounded familiar.

"Wasn't Sam supposed to get a shot for that next week?" I asked.

Dad nodded. Fuck.

"Is it serious?" I asked.

Dad looked at Sammy.

"Can you grab our bags? I'll put Sammy in the backseat of the Impala."

We made quick work of getting to the hospital. The nurses were quick to usher Sammy into a bed once they saw Dad carry him into the ER. I guess that's one good thing of coming in with an unconscious person. They wheeled him off for MRIs and CAT scans and blood testing and who knows what. Hospitals always liked turning Sammy into a lab rat, and they tended to think of ten other tests that they could try on him to check things out. That's why we avoided hospitals. They tried to snatch him even when he wasn't a patient.

Me and Dad just stayed sitting in the guest chairs provided in his little curtained off area. We took turns waiting for Sammy to get wheeled back and for going on little trips around the hospital to check things out and grab coffee. But right now, Dad was starting to nod off in his chair and I was counting ceiling tiles.

"Knock knock," a doctor said, standing at the curtain.

I yawned. "Hey doc, how's Sammy doing?" I asked.

He shot a look towards Dad, and I jumped a little in my seat before nudging him awake again. Guess it would be better to let the doc explain things only once.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester. And are you...Samuel's brother?" the doctor asked, shooting a look towards me.

I nodded. "I'm Dean."

"Hmmm, well Dean, Dad, in a minute Sam should be back. I'll check out all of his scans and see if anything shows up on them. But for now, could you tell me about Sam? Did he use any drugs?"

"What?" I asked. "No! He's a goody-two-shoes kinda kid. He probably doesn't even know what weed smells like."

Dad shot me a look for that.

"What? You act like you never tried it!" I said defensively.

"We'll talk about that later," Dad directed at me. Come on! He turned back to the doctor. "Is there anything else it could be? Sammy's really not the type to take drugs."

The doctor did that Hmmm-ing thing that they always do when they don't quite believe you, but don't want to create drama by arguing about things. Whatever. He'd see soon enough that Sammy's not on drugs.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait for the test results to come back before we'll know for sure why he's not waking up. We'll keep you update as we learn everything," the doctor said before walking off.

Dad glared at the doctors back as he walked away.

Before we could have another shift of walking-around-the-hospital, Sammy was wheeled back in on his bed. We rushed over to him as soon as the nurses were finished hooking him up everywhere. He was still asleep.

"Did you-" Dad started to ask before cutting off.

I turned to look at what interrupted him. The curtained area was empty, so it's not like he saw something suspicious. Oh. It was empty. The nurses took advantage of us being distracted with Sammy and escaped to avoid us interrogating them on Sammy's condition. Bastards.

"Dean? What's going on?"

My head slammed up faster than I thought was possible when I head my name.

"Sammy!"

I threw my arms around him.

"Dean, why am I in the hospital?" Sammy asked really slowly, like he does when he thinks I'm making a stupid decision.

I fished in my pocket for my phone so I could call Dad before hitting the nurse call button on Sam's bed.

"You've been sleeping for five days kiddo. Nothing could wake you up. Nobody could figure out what was wrong with you," I explained.

"Oh," Sammy said before leaning back against his pillows again.

I found Dad in my contacts list and hit call right as a nurse finally arrived. She shooed me out of the room so she could check up on Sam in private.

"Dean?" Dad answered.

"He's awake!" I burst out.

"I'm on my way. Is he talking?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, he was asking questions and everything," I said.

The elevator across the hall dinged. The doors opened up to reveal Dad and Bobby with coffee and food. That was convenient. I hung up the phone. They spotted glanced around the hallway before hurrying towards me.

"Why aren't you with him?" Dad barked at me once he got closer.

I waved a hand at the door to Sammy's room. "Nurse kicked me out," and no, I was not pouting, thank you very much.

Bobby snorted before pushing open the door. The nurse was right there, just waiting for us with her beady librarian eyes that look like they'll suck out your soul and all your happiness if you look at her too long. Maybe she had sex with a Dementor.

"Which one of you is Dean?" she snapped.

I tried to look past her to see into the room, but she caught me and angled her body to block Sammy.

"Me, now can I go see Sammy, lady?" I asked, still trying to look around her.

She rolled her eyes at me and sighed.

"Just you. He won't quit asking for you. I had to stop him from pulling out his IV when he tried to follow you," she complained.

I ignored her and gently nudged her to the side so I could get into Sam's room. She did that offended-old-lady hmmph sound that old ladies always seem to do when you don't give them the attention they believe they deserve.

"Dean!" Sammy called from the bed.

I hurried over to him.

"Hey kiddo."

"Lady, would you move out of the way? My son has been unconscious for five days. Let me go see him!" Dad was snarling from the doorway.

"Mr. Winchester! Children do not need the stimulus from having multiple people in their hospital room. I insist. You must stay out of the room!" Nurse Grey-haired librarian ordered.

Sammy leaned into me, peering at the scene over my shoulder.

"That lady's a real piece of work, Sammy. I can't believe she kicked me out earlier. I knew I should have waited to call a nurse in to check on you," I started babbling.

Sammy just hummed a little to show he was listening.

"Nurse Louis! Nurse Louis! Charlie needs your help in the Beckler's room," another nurse shouted.

Sammy's nurse shot Dad a glare before hurrying down the hall. Bobby and Dad rushed into the room the second she was out of the way.

"Sam, how are you feeling? Dizzy, nauseous? Are you hurting anywhere?" Dad started asking.

Sammy shook his head, "I feel fine. Why was I asleep for so long? Is something wrong with me?"

Bobby pulled up one of the seats next to Sammy's bed before talking, "We couldn't find any hex bags or cursed objects on you. And the doc's couldn't figure out what was keepin' you under. Do you remember anything that could explain why you've been asleep?"

Sammy frowned and leaned back into the pillows again, dragging me with him. He yawned while he was thinking.

"I dunno, Uncle Bobby. Last thing I remember before the Reapers surrounded me was when I was sitting in the car with Dean," Sammy said.

I shot up and put my hands on Sammy's cheeks to force him to look at me. I couldn't help but track my eyes all over his face, looking for any wounds that I could have missed, and doing my best to memorize him.

"Reapers? Sammy, where did you even hear about Reapers?" I asked. Bobby kept repeating "Balls" under his breath. Dad started pacing the room.

Sammy just shot me a confused look. "It was Tessa, Dean. She told me to tell you hi. She wasn't there to reap me!"

I shot a look over at Dad, unsure how to react. Dad walked over and took Sammy's hands.

"Sammy, who's Tessa? Why would you call her a Reaper?" he asked.

Sammy kept looking at all of us, looking like a puppy that got trapped in a herd of chickens.

"Dean? Don't you remember?" he asked, nibbling on his lip.

I just shook my head. I didn't know anyone named Tessa, much less a Reaper! I didn't even know that they had names.

"Sammy," Bobby called, making Sammy turn towards him. "What did you and Tessa do?"

Sammy smiled. "We mostly played poker!"

"Knock knock."

The doc poked his head into the room. "Hello Sam, it's nice to finally meet you. I've been hearing a lot about you from your family."

The doc's small talk went on for awhile as he tested Sam's reflexes and did the usual routine checks. Finally, the doc let out a sigh as he tapped his pen against the clipboard holding Sam's chart.

"What's up, doc?" I asked, already feeling "Big Brother Mode" turning on.

The doc shook his head a little. "I'm stumped. There's nothing in your bloodwork, no allergic reactions, no nothing. I just can't find a single thing that could have caused you to fall into that coma. I don't think we'll able to find anything at this point, so I'll bring you the discharge paperwork in a bit. It's so strange, it's almost as if you were cursed or something,"

"Hi, Sam. Is this your brother?" the receptionist asked once he got off of the phone.

"Yep!" the pipsqueak chimed in.

"Hi, um, Sammy was wanting to take some placement tests? Like to see if he could skip some classes or something?" I said. I wasn't too sure what to ask for. I didn't even know you could skip classes.

The receptionist, "Mark Addams", looked at Sammy shocked for a second. Then the dude shrugged and started looking for something in a cabinet behind him. He turned back to us with a stack of papers.

"Alright, follow me," he said before walking out of the office. "So, you'll have to take this in the detention center, I'm afraid. That's the only place with any adults around right now that are able to watch you. But I'm sure if there's any kids in there for detention they'll stay quiet. I'll just threaten them with some random standardized test. This won't have a time limit, and any scrap paper that you use has to be given to the teacher instead of thrown away. It'll have to be shredded..."

I swear I was getting flashbacks to when I was still suffering through high school. Not something worth repeating.

The wait seemed agonizing to me, and I wasn't even taking the test. After awhile, I drove down the road to a little diner to get some pie to eat. But sure enough, Sammy called me within a couple hours.

Sammy met me at the curb in front of the school.

"So how'd you do?" I asked.

Sammy twisted around to grab his seatbelt after I glared at him a little.

"I think I did alright. They'll call within a month with the results. Hopefully, it won't take that long though," the kid pouted at the thought.

I ruffled his hair.

"Sure you don't want me to mention it to Dad?" I offered.

He shook his head real quick. "No, I'll just go to the library and take online classes while I would've normally been at school. If we tell him, he won't let me do that."

I nodded in agreement, though I didn't bother pointing out to Sammy that he was a bit of a freak for deciding to graduate a couple years early just so he could go to college sooner. Weirdo.