Title: In the Forest, 1/?
Author: Mad Server
Rating: T
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
A/N: Gratuitous h/c, ladies. Thanks to nativestar for the brainstorming.
Summary: Dean is sick. Sam can tell. There's a monster in the forest.

We're in the forest. It's maybe 3 in the afternoon, slushy spring thaw. We're pretty sure a harpy lives in here somewhere.

We've hiked maybe ten minutes in when Dean stops short.

'Give me a minute,' he says. Ostensibly he's checking his messages, but really I'm pretty sure he's catching his breath. Dean's been off his game for days. I think he must be coming down with something, but he won't say.

We know the harpy isn't going to budge until its next ritual feeding in two weeks' time, so if anybody's going to get sick, it's actually kind of a good time for it. We're just scouting out the area now, doing our homework. It can wait.

'Let's do this later,' I say, watching Dean's shoulders rise and fall. 'I'm hungry, why don't we grab a bite.'

Dean stuffs the phone into his pocket, gives me a thin smile. 'Don't mind if I do.'

He does mind though. At the restaurant he orders toast and coffee, and doesn't touch the toast.

Now I'm sure.

'You're sick,' I say. We're at the table, and Dean's holding his coffee cup with both hands like he's cold.

He shifts in his seat, looks insulted. 'What makes you say that?'

'The fact that you're sick.'

He shakes his head, holding my eyes like the good liar he is.

'I'm fine, Sam.'

'No, you're not. I know you. And you know what, this is the perfect time to take it easy. We've got two weeks before our little friend in the forest makes its next move. We know where it lives and we know how to kill it. It's a cake walk.'

Dean bristles. He's never been good at being sick.

'Oh, I'm sorry, did I miss something? Did you see the nest and forget to mention it?'

I feel my jaw tighten but I don't take the bait.

'We've got more than enough time to pin it down. Dean, think about the bottom line here. If you don't take some time now to seriously kick the ass of whatever it is you're up against, you might not be back up to scratch in time for the harpy's next feeding, and then we're both in trouble, and so are its intended victims.'

Dean looks scandalized, but also pretty damn tired. Eventually, the tired wins out.

'Guess I could use an early night,' he says.

It can't be later than 4:30pm, but the sun's almost gone. That's winter for you.

I take Dean back to the motel and he passes out within the hour.

'Come on, you look like ass. Let's just stay here.'

Dean doesn't listen. Nothing new there. He's paler today, shoulders drawn in tight. Every once in awhile, when he thinks I'm not looking, he'll let one of his arms slide across his stomach and stay there.

'Why are we doing this,' I say as he locks up the motel room behind us.

'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.'

We tramp around for half an hour in the slush, but we don't spot the lair this time around either. I can't say I'm looking for it especially hard; mostly I'm keeping an eye on Dean, making sure he doesn't fall. I'm mad and getting madder. When he trips for the third or fourth time, I put my foot down.

'This was a dumb idea,' I say. My hands are on his hips, holding him steady; he's white as a sheet, breathing hard. He doesn't push my hands away, and that tells me just how hard he's having to work to stay on his feet. I frown, run a hand over his sweaty face. He bats it away too late.

'You're burning up, you know that?'

He shrugs, shakes his head. 'Whatever.'

I stare at him. More and more these days, he just doesn't seem to give a damn, and it's really starting to get to me.

I take him home and put him to bed. It's like herding cats.

It's only noon, and Dean's sick but not that sick. I make sure he has what he needs, then head back out to the forest on my own. I take the GPS, the binoculars, Dad's journal, and a handgun just in case.

The light's getting weak when I spot the nest. It matches Dad's description almost perfectly.

If you didn't know what to look for, you'd never know there was anything living here. The branches in this one spot all curve down at the ends, actually grow downward; that's the giveaway. The harpy is asleep right here, inside the trunk of this tree. The knot halfway up is probably where it gets in.

I'd like to finish this right now, but there's just no way. Feed night is really the only time to go after a harpy.

It's dark out when I let myself back into the motel room. I don't see Dean so I call out, 'Hey, I'm back.'

His answering 'Hey' comes from the direction of the bathroom. Door's wide open, so I stick my head in.

The room smells like puke. Dean's sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall, blowing his nose. His eyes are red, his face is grey, his hair is stringy with sweat.

'Jesus, you look awful.'

Dean sneezes. 'Gee, thanks.' He gives me a weary once-over. 'You're not exactly going to win any beauty contests either in that getup.'

My jeans are soaked all the way up to the thighs, and when I glance down now I see there's mud smeared all over my jacket. I snort.

'I'm not, am I. Still kick your ass, though.'

Dean looks like he might laugh, but just ends up coughing into his elbow.

I shake my head, a little amazed at how much sicker he is now than when I left.

'No more nature walks for you,' I say, frowning. 'Do you want to go to the doctor? You look like maybe you could use some antibiotics or something.'

'Nah,' he says, 'I'll just hang out.'

I give Dean a hand back to bed and then bring him some water. While I'm getting undressed, I tell him I've found the nest.

'That's m'boy,' he says, and I feel absurdly proud.

TBC