A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry this took a little longer than I hoped. Deadline is Tuesday, so I am frantically scrambling, but managed to sneak enough time for this. Thanks to Dennis and TraSan for all their help.

Welcome to the Jungle

Chapter Eleven

The sounds of the forest, of life, twisted around Dean. The fire was still crackling, the last of the wood burning with very little smoke. The trees were full of birds, the river was gurgling over rocks, a happy note in the bright morning.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, holding what was left of his brother. "Sammy?" He could hear the desperate note in his voice.

Something moved on his hand. Dean looked down as a tendril from the growths covering Sam squirmed across his hand. He watched it for a second before moving his hand out from under the writhing root. Another tendril tried to work its way onto his hand, and as it did something wriggled up Dean's neck, heading towards his face. He moved his head, the tendril continued inching up his face. Dean could feel something that felt like little claws slowly easing up his face, heading towards his eye. He tried to pull away as something clamped down on his hand, tearing flesh away.

"Shit!" Dean shouted, scrambling away from Sam, madly brushing the seeking tendrils off his skin. Some of the tendrils had broken free and were trying to work their way up Dean's back. He yanked off his shirt, the writhing mass dropped to the ground. He kicked it into the fire, watching it burn to ash before turning back to Sam.

"Oh god, Sammy." His brother was gone, completely consumed by the black growths. Dean swallowed hard when he realized the whole mass was moving, writhing over and under itself like an army of swarming ants. Dean looked away. "I'm sorry." He tamped down the urge to grab the machete and spear and go after the orcs. "Running over there right now won't get you out of this, Sam. And I am getting you out, got it?" He sat down and picked up their father's journal with shaking hands. Dean made sure he was out of reach of the wriggling black mass.

Dean turned to the page with the information on the forest demons, quickly reading over their father's notes. He flipped to the next page and a piece of paper dropped on the ground. Dean picked it up, Sam's handwriting.

"Dean, I'm not sure how much time I actually have left. The orcs propagate by turning humans into demons. I think that's what's happening to me. I think if you survive the 'test' of the traps, they choose you to become one of them. I think that's what's happened. I found a couple of interesting things in the journal and in that article dad had taped on the page. It takes three doses of the stuff to complete the transformation. I think the first was on the traps, that's why the wounds were oozing black, the second they gave me, so there is still a third dose needed. I have no idea what happens if I don't get that third dose. The growths need to be fed. Again I don't know what happens if they aren't…Don't let me become one, Dean. Stop it, please.—Sam."

There were a few notes on the back of the page. Most were unintelligible scribbles. Dean frowned at the page. "What do these notes mean?" he said to his brother. "Cultivated land, yeah, we know about that. And the cultivated wood for the spear. But what's 'meds?' mean? 'Contact?' What Sam? What were you trying to tell me? And 'food?' Oh, the growths need to eat. What do they eat, Sammy? Oh god…" Dean trailed off. He reached out and laid his hand on the mass of growths writhing over Sam's body. As soon as his hand touched the surface, tendrils started working their way towards his hand. He could feel seeking roots under his palm. Dean waited, watching in fascinated horror as one of the tendrils started clawing at the top of his hand, peeling a strip of skin and flesh off before Dean snatched his hand away.

He picked up the spear and the machete. "I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to go take a look at the orcs. I'll be back in ten minutes, no more, okay?" Dean walked out of the clearing and into the fruit trees without looking back at the black mound that was Sam.

Dean could hear the orcs moving around in the trees outside the ring of cultivated land. Occasionally one of them would bark out a harsh call, finally echoing in the distance, Dean heard the answering call. Oh, great, now what? The orc armies? Strike that, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it, hear me? Dean addressed the silent universe, regretting even giving voice to the thought. No orc armies. He slipped between the trees and walked silently up the hill to where he could over look the area the orcs were working.

The pile of stones by the trebuchet had gotten larger, the rocks were joined by several crude bowls. What the hell? Dean glanced across the clearing, the body had been butchered, only the trunk and arms were let suspended from the tree. He looked towards the writhing mound where the man had fallen, what was left of a foot was slowly being consumed by the wriggling black tendrils. That's just gross.

Dean eased closer, as close as he could and still stay in the protection of the fruit trees. The orcs were piling stones beside the trebuchet. One carried a skin over to the bowls and started filling them with liquid. They loaded one of the bowls into the "bucket" of the catapult and launched it. The bowl arched over the trees, heading towards the clearing. It tumbled as it flew, spilling the contents on the apple trees. Dean heard it shatter when it hit the ground. The demons started arguing, at least that's what Dean thought they were doing. He didn't care, he was running back towards the trees, hoping to get back before they launched another bowl of the liquid.

He broke into the clearing. The bowl had hit the ground on the far side of the clearing, well away from Sam. Dean heard the demons growling voices as he reached the fire. "I figured out how they are going to try and get the third dose to you." Dean heard a whooshing sound and a stone slammed into the ground close to where the remnants of the bowl were scattered. "Trying to get the range, I guess."

Dean dropped down beside the fire, tossing in a small log and waiting until it caught before pushing the coffee pot back in the fire. "You think I can get coffee poisoning? I might have had a little more than is recommended for human consumption." He scrubbed a hand across his face, then looked over at Sam. The wind had changed and the smoke from the fire was flowing over the black mound. "What do I do? Sam?" Dean sighed, watching the smoke as it curled into the sky. He looked back over at his brother.

And froze.

The side of the mound the smoke had touched wasn't wriggling as much. Dean moved closer, the growths had definitely slowed on the smoky side. He stuck a finger on the growths, one sluggish tendril started snaking towards his hand. Dean pulled his hand away. "Apple wood. The fire is made from apple wood! The smoke must affect the growths, what do you think, Sam?"

A low moan, so quiet that Dean didn't believe his ears at first, drifted out of the mound.

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean put his hand back on the mound, digging his fingers through the growths, feeling the acid burn as he pushed his hand down to rest on Sam. His brother's arm was trembling, Dean could feel the tendrils moving under Sam's skin. "Sammy? I'm here, hang on." The arm under his hand moved a tiny bit. Dean looked at the mound, at Sam, tears in his eyes. "How do I keep you in the smoke?" Dean looked around desperately, hoping to find something to fan the smoke towards his brother. "Wait…What about ashes? Do you think that would help?" He thought he heard another moan. "Okay, Sammy, hang on, I have an idea."

XXX

The pain had been almost more than he could bear, but it wasn't only the pain. That wasn't the worst part of it. No, the worst part had been the sensation of the tendrils as the moved across his scalp and wriggled in the wounds on his body. Dean's frantic efforts had slowed the inevitable, but there was no stopping it. Sam knew that, even as Dean struggled to cut the things off his head. He'd known it the night before when he'd written the letter.

It was during Dean's last futile attempt to save him the pain had finally become too much. The tendril that had escaped Dean's desperate surgery stabbed its way into Sam. Pain blasted into his head with the force of an eruption. The growths on his body were moving in a macabre dance as the single tendril pressed against Sam, stabbing, seeking. He heard himself scream. Dean's arms closed around him, holding him as Sam tried to fight the thing that was working its way along the base of his skull. It found what it was looking for, there was another surge of pain, unbearable this time, and then darkness.

The sensation of suffocating brought him to terrifying awareness. Dean! Dean! Help me, please, Dean.

"I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to go take a look at the orcs. I'll be back in ten minutes, no more, okay?"

Dean? Sam felt the impact of Dean's footsteps as he walked away. Terror consumed him. He left, he left me here. He tried to push himself free of the growths, he could feel them moving over his body, under his skin. No! No, Dean will be back, he said he'd be back. Oh god…He felt his heart speed up, the growths stopped moving a little. He fought harder, his heart slamming against his ribcage. The fungus stopped moving. Maybe I can…He felt one tendril slide slowly down his neck. The other tendrils had stopped moving, but this one—he could feel it, seeking back and forth, a tiny worm inching down his neck. It stopped. Sam felt it tap against his neck. Tap, tap, tap. A gentle prodding. Tap, tap. The tendril slid a tiny bit further. Tap, tap. An inch further. Tap, tap. Sam was getting used to the gentle tapping. A little further. Tap, tap. A pause. Tap, tap.

Then the tapping changed, became a steady pressure. Sam screamed silently as the thing pushed its way into his neck. There was a blinding flash, running up to the top of his head, down to his toes and then nothing.

Sam wondered if he'd lost consciousness again, until he felt the things on his head start to move. He could feel them on his scalp and face, on his neck and shoulders, but nothing else. His heart was beating, he could feel the frantic pulse in his temples, he was breathing, he could feel a soft wispy touch as a tendril moved with his inhale and exhale. But that was all, nothing else. Paralyzed. It paralyzed me. It can't be permanent, how could I become one if I couldn't move? The calm thought seemed out of place against the pounding beat in his temples and the growing need to scream. Just give in. I can't fight it forever, I should just…

Something slammed into the ground, he wasn't sure if he heard or felt the impact. What was that? Dean? Are you okay? The tendrils on his face were beginning to press against his eyes, he thought he could feel one moving along the edge of an eyelid. No, please no. I can't fight it…The tendril slid under his eyelid and over the eye. No…He started relaxing, letting the seeking roots find their way in.

"I figured out how they are going to try and get the third dose to you," Dean's voice pulled him back again. No, no. I have to fight. Dean? Dean, are you there? Something slammed into the ground again. "Trying to get the range, I guess," Dean said. Sam focused on the voice, he thought the tendrils slowed their progress. What's going on? Dean was talking about coffee, part of Sam smiled at that. Dean talking just to talk. Sam remembered once when they were children and he'd been sick, high fever and laryngitis. Dean had sat beside him and talked, answering himself if he felt the need, but he'd talked for hours. Somehow his voice made it better, even when Sam was asleep Dean's voice had kept him safe.

"What do I do? Sam?" Dean asked. Sam heard the fear, the panic, in his brother's voice. Dean was completely shattered.

Dean…Wait…Sam noticed the tendrils on the right side of his head had slowed even further, something was affecting them. Dean! Dean! Sam wondered if he could get his brother's attention.

"Apple wood. The fire is made from apple wood! The smoke must affect the growths, what do you think, Sam?"

"Dean!" Sam hoped his brother would hear him, understand.

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean asked. Sam felt something, the mass of growths was moving away from his right side, shifting to the left. He felt the movement on his head and shoulders. Something touched his upper arm. Dean. "Sammy? I'm here, hang on. How do I keep you in the smoke? Wait…What about ashes? Do you think that would help?"

"Dean…"

"Okay, Sammy, hang on, I have an idea." The touch on his upper arm moved away. Don't leave, Dean, keep talking. "I need to let them cool off a bit," Dean said. "I wonder how many I need?" Sam couldn't hear anything but Dean's voice. He had no idea what his brother was doing. Something slammed into the ground. "Still on the other side of the clearing. I think they're bad shots, Sammy." The tone of Dean's voice had changed. It was "I can do something about this" Dean. The Dean who was almost in control of the situation, or so he told himself. Sam drew strength from his brother's tone. "They'll probably try tossing another bowl over here pretty soon. I won't let anymore of that shit get on you. Okay, Sammy, I don't know what's going to happen."

Sam waited, the tendrils on his head, behind his eyes stopped moving. What's happening? He could feel something crawling up the skin on his throat. Something else was on his neck, the seeking root stopped moving.

"Dean," he said. He heard his own voice that time, a wordless moan.

"Hold on, Sammy, just hold on a minute more."

"Hurry." It sounded like a moan, but Dean must have understood.

"I'm hurrying, Sam…Damn…I'll make more when I'm done. Hang on, Sammy." Sam felt Dean's hands on his head, pulling at the growths. "Oh god, Sam. Oh god."

XXX

"Okay, Sammy, I don't know what's going to happen," Dean said, kneeling down beside Sam and scooping some of the warm ashes onto the edge of the mound. The fungus stopped moving. Dean put his hand on the spot, nothing happened. Okay, where's his head? After looking at the mound for a second, Dean began carefully putting ashes on the area he was sure was where Sam's head was under the growths. Still not sure what's going to happen, when I tried to cut them off, they attacked him. Dean spotted one worm like tendril moving under the mass. Dean pushed his hands through the growths and laid a line of ashes across Sam's neck.

"Nnnnn," Sam moaned.

"Hold on, Sammy, just hold on a minute more," Dean said, scooping more ashes onto Sam's head.

"Hrrrrr."

"I'm hurrying Sam." Dean sprinkled the last of the ashes on Sam's shoulders. "Damn, I'll make more when I'm done. Hang on Sammy." Taking a deep breath, he began pulling the fungus off Sam's head. Dean started at the top, waiting to see what the other growths would do as he pulled the tendrils off his brother. The ones lower on his body were still writhing, moving, swarming over Sam, but none came close the line of ashes Dean had laid across Sam's shoulders and neck. Dean finally felt Sam's hair under his hand, he moved forward on Sam's head, gently pulling the layers of black fungus off Sam. It felt like hours, he knew it was only minutes, before he touched the skin on Sam's face.

"Oh god, Sam. Oh god," he said quietly. The tendrils covered Sam's face, running into his eyes, nose and mouth. Dean pulled at the one covering Sam's lips, gagging as it came out. Then he moved to Sam's nose, pulling those away. It was when he got to Sam's eyes, he stopped. He looked at the fungus on Sam's right eye, it didn't seem as large as the other. "This might feel weird, Sammy."

"Mm hmm," Sam mumbled.

Dean smiled. "Ready?" He tugged at the growth. Sam moaned, but it came free, the long tendrils sliding out. Oh my god. "Gross," Dean said, keeping his voice light. "Can you open your eye?" Sam's eyelid slid open a fraction, then closed. "Let me get a little water to rinse it, okay?" Dean grabbed the backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. He poured it over the right side of Sam's face. Sam's eye opened again. "Can you see?" Dean held his breath, hoping he hadn't damaged Sam's eye when he pulled the thing off.

Sam's eye rolled towards him. "Blur…"

"Hey." Dean grinned in relief. "It's blurry?"

"Get left…"

"No. It's too big, I don't want to damage something. I'm lucky I didn't already."

"Be'r than on me."

"No, we'll let a doctor take care of that one. You want something to drink?"

"Can't. In me," Sam said.

"In you?" Dean swallowed, his relief vanishing. "I'll make more ashes and get you out of there, maybe if I put ashes in water?" Dean got up and put several branches on the fire, wondering how long he had before there was enough ash to free Sam's upper body. A whooshing noise sounded over his head and a rock slammed into one of the apple trees across the clearing, shattering the tree. Another stone followed the first, finishing the destruction.

"Neck."

"What?"

"My neck."

"What about your neck, Sammy?" Dean asked as he bent to look. The front of Sam's neck was clear of the fungus, the back still had a few tendrils. Dean froze. "Oh my god."

"Off."

"No."

"Please. Can't move."

"Hell no, Sam. It's buried in your neck. What if I pull it out and…god…"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I'm not going to even try and get that one out." Dean laid his hand on Sam's forehead. Another rock flew over his head and smashed into a tree across the clearing. A second later, one of the bowls arced into the clearing, bouncing a little closer to Sam. Dean waited, counting the seconds, before another rock flew into the trees.

"Talk," Sam said.

"What?"

"Talk. Keeps me here."

"Sure." Dean watched as another stone smashed into the trees across the clearing. "They seem to have the range, but what are they doing?"

"Trees, land."

"What?" Dean frowned at Sam. "The trees?"

"Yeah." A flash of pain registered in Sam's eye. Dean stroked Sam's forehead with his thumb.

"Oh. If they destroy the trees, they can come through and get us? Like taking out a wall? But what about the cultivated land? If they can destroy it…can they get in here?"

"Think so."

"But why haven't they done that before?" No reason too before now. They want Sam, now that they are turning him into one of them.

"No need before. Want me."

"Stop that," Dean said, smiling.

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean looked at the fire, two of the branches had burned away. He got up and grabbed the small camp shovel and dug the ashes out of the fire. He tossed another log one and carried the ashes over to Sam.

"Right arm," Sam said as Dean debated where to put the ashes.

"Your arm? Not your chest?"

"Want to see…"

Oh god, he wants to know how bad the paralysis is. "Okay, Sammy, right arm." Dean poured the ashes over Sam, waiting till the tendrils stopped moving before pulling them away. He could see small bulges under Sam's skin. "Can you move it?" Sam closed his eye, his face a mask of pain. He lifted his shoulder, then his elbow shifted a little. Dean waited. Nothing more happened. He picked up Sam's hand in his. "Squeeze it." Sam's teeth ground together and Dean could see the muscles in Sam's shoulder trembling with effort. Sam's hand remained motionless in his. "Can you feel my hand?"

"No," Sam said, a tear escaping his eye and running down his cheek. "No, I can't."

"We'll get it fixed."

"Dean…"

"It's probably just an orc epidural, Sammy." Dean forced a laugh.

"So I don't die during the change?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, but we'll get it fixed, Sam. We will." He tried for a smile. "Your sentences are getting longer already." Another stone whooshed over their heads, twenty seconds later another, and another, smashing the trees apart. "Fun times," Dean said. He could hear the barking call of the forest demons and an answering call from up the valley.

"More orcs," Sam said.

"Just freaking great, all we need are more orcs. Think they'll bring a troll with them?"

"Cave troll." A small smile played on Sam's lips.

"You know a few days ago, I would have thought that was funny." Dean cocked his head, listening to a far-off sound. "But now, I more than half expect a troll to come through the trees. Think they're bothered by cultivated land?" He turned his head, trying to get a better focus on the sound.

"Don't know."

"You're the geek. You're supposed to know things like that, Sam," he said absently. His whole focus was taken up with listening.

"Dean?"

"You hear that?" Dean looked down at Sam, then closed his eyes. "I'm not imaging it. Sam, do you hear that?" He tried to fight the tears that were suddenly in his eyes.

"Dean? What?"

"You can't…?" Dean paused as the thump thump thump of the helicopter got closer. "They're getting close." Dean looked up as the chopper came over the clearing. "There they are. It's Drew." A rock flew into the clearing, just missing the descending helicopter. The pilot pulled up, hovering over them, as another stone, pitched higher, arced towards the chopper. "He can't land with those bastards doing that."

"Dean."

"I have to stop them. Long enough to get you out of here, Sam, that's all."

"Dean, no. Let me…"

Dean squeezed his brother's hand, then put his hand against Sam's head. "Not an option, Sammy. Sorry." He picked up the machete and the spear. "Call me Aragorn," he said, walking out of the clearing and easing through the trees. Aragorn, not Boromir. As long as Sam is safe, Boromir would be okay, I guess. Killed by freaking orcs in the middle of a national forest. My life is fun. Yep, that's what it is, fun.

Dean moved up the hill, through the fruit trees, hoping he could come in behind the demons. He broke through the fruit trees and got a look up the valley. He could see movement. Orc armies. Great. I thought I said no orc armies. They aren't that far away…Shit. He slipped down through the aspen. The two orcs using the trebuchet were focused on the clearing and the helicopter hovering over the trees. Not scared of the chopper, t they've probably seen them before.

Dean moved so he was behind the orcs, steadied himself and threw the spear, hoping that it would find its target. The apple wood flew through the air and imbedded itself in the back of one of the demons. As Dean watched the wound opened on the demons back. It was screaming, clawing at the spear. With a last shriek it dropped to the ground, twitching.

The other orc turned to face Dean. It was the one that poured the drink into Sam, the one that had butchered the woman's body. Dean felt a smile on his face. "Oh, yeah, glad it's you."

The demon looked at him and snarled out a few words, drawing something that looked like a crude sword.

"Great." Dean lifted his sword, and with a shout, charged the demon, slashing down as he approached it. The orc easily deflected the blow, backhanding Dean with the grip of its sword. Dean dropped and rolled back onto his feet before the demon could cut at him with its sword. Dean thrust forward with the machete, feinting to the left at the last minute. He felt the blade bite into flesh. The demon growled, swinging at Dean with its sword. Dean ducked the blow, but felt the sting as the blade cut through the flesh on his upper arm.

Dean swiped at the orc again, trying to move the fight closer to the trebuchet. At the edge of his peripheral vision he saw the helicopter drop into the clearing. Dean smiled and dove at the demon, slashing with his machete. The demon blocked the blow and shoved Dean away. Stumbling backward from the force of the blow, Dean fell over one of the supports for the trebuchet. He pushed himself off the machine and swung the machete at the rope holding the basket. The orc half-screamed, half-snarled and rushed towards him. Dean felt the rope give way as the demon slammed into him, driving them both to the ground. Dean's machete flew out of his hand. Okay, Boromir.

Dean tried to roll out from under the orc, his right hand desperately seeking the machete. The demon locked its hands around Dean's throat and started squeezing. Dean could hear heavy footfalls approaching them, the impact jarring the ground under him. Yep, Boromir. He seeking fingers brushed the edge of the machete. As the dark spots dancing in front of his eyes began to become one large mass, Dean managed to get his hand around the hilt. He picked it up and drove it into the side of the orc, pressing it in as deep as he could before it grated against bone.

The demon screamed and rolled away, reaching to pull the machete out of its side. It pushed itself to its knees before a small glow around the sword began to grow, becoming a bright light that consumed the orc in a flash of light.

Dean pushed himself up, gasping for air, a hand to his bruised throat. "Yeah, it's a magical sword."

Hearing the marching footsteps getting closer, he launched himself into the fruit trees, tearing into the clearing and racing for the waiting helicopter. "There's an army coming," he croaked out as he reached the chopper.

"An army?" Drew asked as he hauled Dean into the helicopter.

"Yeah, orcs…I mean forest demons."

"Get us out of here," Drew shouted to the pilot.

Dean dropped onto the floor beside Sam. "You okay?" Sam asked, opening his right eye.

"Yeah." He was suddenly dizzy. Best part? Fight an orc and then get to fly. How fun is that? "I'm Aragorn."

The dizziness was getting worse. Dean leaned his head back against the seat and put his hand on Sam's head. He thought he heard Drew say something about getting buckled in. Dean couldn't hear over the noise of the chopper and the buzzing in his ears, another huge wave of dizziness washed over him. I wonder if there was something on that sword? He closed his eyes.

When he felt like opening them again, he realized time had passed. The sound of the helicopter was gone, he was lying on something soft. There was the pulling sensation of stitches in his arm and the tight pinch of an IV in his arm. Dean opened his eyes and looked around the hospital room.

"Welcome back," Drew said from beside the bed. Dean looked over at the gray-haired man.

"Sam?"

"Came through surgery fine."

"But?" Dean could see something in the man's eyes.

"He's still out." Drew looked away for a moment. "How do you feel?"

"Like I spent a week in the forest with a bunch of freaking orcs." Dean pushed himself up in the bed, reaching for the bed's controls. "Is there something to drink? My throat hurts." He tried to swallow. Drew handed him a cup and he sipped at the ice water. "Better. Where's Sam?"

"Down the hall," Drew said. "I'm sorry, Dean. I had no idea when I called that…What are you doing?"

"I need to see Sam."

"Dean, you need to rest."

"No, I need to see Sam."

Drew huffed in frustration. "At least let me get a nurse, okay?"

Several minutes later, Drew was helping Dean down the hall to Sam's room. Dean paused by the door for a moment. What if…? He walked in and over to the bed. "Sam?" he said softly. "Sammy?" A bandage covered his brother's left eye, and IV of blood was running into Sam's arm. Dean gently pulled the blanket back. Sam's chest was red—raw from the crawling fungus that had covered him, but it was also flesh colored and free of the growths and the black ooze. The slash on Sam's side was bandaged as well as the wound on his shoulder. There was no black discharge on any of the bandages. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. "How is he, Drew?"

"We're waiting. They removed the…the…"

"Orc fungus?" Dean offered, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

"Yeah." Drew swallowed.

"How'd they stop it?"

"Cultivated medicine and human blood."

"What?" Dean said in disbelief. "How'd the doctors…"

"They didn't figure it out, John did."

Dean sat up. "Dad? He's here?"

Drew shook his head. "No, sorry. He called, finally. It's why we were out there looking for you. He was a little upset I'd sent you out at all, considering what happened in Montana all those years ago. He lit a fire under my tail and we set out, he told us to look for cultivated land, John said he knew you'd find someplace safe. I remembered the old homestead, so we flew directly there. I called him as soon as I could and told him about Sam. He suggested the medicine and blood. It seemed to work. The fungus stopped moving and died. As soon as it was safe they took Sam up to surgery."

"They got it all out of Sam? Will his eye be okay?" Dean looked at the older man.

"Yeah, they're pretty sure the eye will be fine."

"And the other?" Dean said, suddenly understanding where Drew's hesitation was coming from.

"They don't know, Dean. They got it out….They aren't sure what damage it did."

"Oh." Dean looked over at Sam. "What about the orcs?"

"By the time we got back out there, they'd gone to ground. John thinks they're moving deeper into the forest. I had the whole area shut down." Drew sighed. "I never realized…I'm sorry," he said again.

"Do you think dad will come?" Dean asked, letting his head rest against the back of the chair. He was exhausted, the trip down the hallway seemed further, much further, than it actually had been.

"I don't think so." Drew's voice was fading.

"Okay." Dean closed his eyes. "I need to sleep."

"I'll have someone bring in a blanket," Drew said as Dean drifted off to sleep.

The ache in his neck woke him. Dean blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. Sleeping in chairs, always fun. He looked over at Sam, his brother was still unconscious. Dean sighed and stretched sore muscles before walking into the bathroom. The small room had a shower in it. Dean smiled, the thought of a shower was intoxicating. He found fresh clothes on a chair. Thanks, Drew. Grabbing a towel out of the closet, he turned the shower on and let the hot water run over sore muscles. When he was finished, he wandered back into the room, grabbed the menu off the bed stand and ordered some food, then turned on the television.

"Civilization, Sammy. Food at the end of a telephone, running water and Judge Judy. Life is looking up." He looked over at his brother and put his hand on Sam's arm. "Hear me, Sam?"

The food arrived, a doctor stopped by to check on both of them, nurses walked in and out. Dean stayed beside Sam's bed. He'd tried calling their father, but the phone, as usual, went to directly to voicemail. Dean growled a little on the last message. He sighed as he flipped his phone closed. When he glanced over to check on Sam, he realized his brother's eye was open. "Sam?"

"Hey. You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean buzzed the nurse.

"Good."

The nurse came in, she smiled at Dean and disappeared. She returned with the doctor. Sam watched them quietly. The doctor took the bandage off of Sam's left eye. Dean held his breath. "I can see," Sam said softly.

"Thank god," Dean whispered. Sam glanced over at him.

The doctor was poking at Sam's hands and feet. "Feel anything?" Sam shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's okay, Sammy. It'll be better," Dean said, bushing the tears off his brother's cheeks. "It'll get better."

"Promise?" Sam asked, sounding like he had when he was five, needing something desperately, knowing it was out of reach.

"Promise," Dean spoke the magic word. Sam smiled and closed his eyes. His breathing evened off into sleep.

"Sam?" Dean said quietly. No response. Dean smiled and shrugged. "He likes his sleep." He listened as the doctor explained things about cervical vertebrae and nerve damage. Dean tried to listen, the words weren't really processing. All he heard was Sam wasn't getting better. The doctor left, and Dean settled back in the chair. He'd discovered it was a recliner and stretched his legs out. Needing contact with his brother, he put his hand over Sam's and turned his attention back to the television. The local PBS station was in the middle of pledge season and he'd lucked into a "Black Adder" marathon. The prince was attempting to say antidisestablishmentarianism, when a noise from the bed pulled Dean's attention away from the TV.

"Get them off," Sam groaned.

"Sammy?" Dean stood and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Sam?"

"Off."

Dean shook Sam gently. "Sammy, they're off, wake up. Sam?"

Sam's eyes opened. "Off?"

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, off. We're in a hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yeah, Drew came and got us. Remember? You woke up and they took the bandage off your eye?"

"Oh, yeah. The fungus?"

"They killed the orc fungus and got it all off."

"All?"

"Yeah, Sammy, all. No becoming an orc for you. Sorry."

"Good."

"Don't sound so disappointed." Dean picked up Sam's hand. "Sammy?" He met his brother's eyes. "Can you feel my hand?" Sam smiled and his hand slowly closed around Dean's. "Sam?" Dean pulled his brother against him, Sam's arms went around him. Sam rested his head against Dean's for a moment. "I'm not hugging, you know, I'm making sure your arms work." Dean gave Sam a little squeeze and eased him back down on the bed.

"Yeah, I know." Sam's eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Yeah," Dean said, clearing his throat. He's going to be okay. Tears not needed, he's going to be okay. Hear me? No tears needed…Damn…No one listens. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "No thanks needed, Sammy." He smiled. "As soon as they let you go, what do you say about a vacation? There's a casino west of here—Styx is playing next week."

"No camping?"

Dean frowned at Sam. "I've had enough camping for a lifetime, Sam. I don't care if it's a camp out at the Playboy mansion. I'm not camping out ever again."

"Me either." Sam smiled, the smile grew into a grin, then he chuckled.

"What?"

"You're Aragorn." Sam nearly giggled.

"If you're going to make fun of me…" Dean got off the bed and sat back in the chair, he crossed his arms, frowning at Sam. "You're the orc egg boy."

"Dean the orc killer and his magical sword."

"Orc egg boy."

"Magical sword…" Sam smiled.

Dean smiled back and dropped the guard rail so he could lean against the edge of the bed. Sam shifted so his shoulder was in contact. Dean listened to Sam's breathing, he could still hear a little hitch of pain. But he's going to be okay. Dean sighed. Maybe after the concert we'll head south, check out that haunted lodge on the Oregon coast Sam mentioned.

"You know, after the concert, we should check out that haunted hotel I told you about. We're not all that far from there."

Dean looked over at Sam. "Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?" Sam smiled.

"Nothing." Dean leaned back in the chair. Sam's hand closed over his, he glanced over at Sam, his brother was still smiling as he closed his eyes. Dean squeezed Sam's hand. "Get some sleep."

"Aragorn," Sam said quietly.

"Orc egg boy."

"Orc killer…"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The End