Fic: That's What Big Brothers Are For 4/9

[mizpah1931]

Title: That’s What Big Brothers are For
Season: 2
Category: General, Action, Horror/Demon
Warnings: Not really...
Tagline: Sam is plagued by multiple visions of Dean burning alive, leading the brothers into a dangerous hunt that could have dire repercussions for the young psychic.
Set just before the Season 2 episode Roadkill
Total Word Count: 52,676
Chapter 4 Word Count: 5767
Total Chapters: 9
Beta: ziggyuk
Story Banner: Chasidern
Awards Banner (SN.TV Best Horror/Demon 2008): Saiyuki

The demon's getting closer...

 

Chapter 4

“Ms Logan? I’m Detective Van Zant, and this is my partner, Detective Rossington. May we come in?”

Elizabeth’s puffy eyes widened as she took in the two tall, handsome men standing in the tiny foyer outside the apartment. She gripped the edge of the door with trembling hands, her sleep-deprived brain registering the sympathetic look in the soft hazel eyes of the taller one, and the no-nonsense, confident air of the shorter one. “Is – this about – Geoff?”

Dean Winchester nodded solemnly. “Just a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Listlessly, the girl drew the door wide open, stepping back to let the men inside. “Sure, come in. Um – coffee?”

“That’d be great – thanks.” Dean watched the slender redhead disappear into the tiny kitchen, and flashed his brother a grin as he rolled his eyes. “Man,” he mouthed silently.

Sam shook his head at his brother’s antics. Sometimes it seemed to him that his big brother was nothing more than an overgrown kid with rampaging hormones. Following Dean into the living room, he sank down onto the couch at his brother’s side, letting his gaze roam around the comfortably furnished apartment. The photograph of Geoff and Elizabeth caught his eye, and he studied it for a moment, his feelings in turmoil as he saw how happy they both looked.

Dean’s thoughts shifted from the hot chick to his brother, catching Sam’s wistful expression from the corner of his eye. He flicked a lightning glance around the apartment, noting the little personal touches the young couple had added to give the place a warm, homely feel. Dean could guess that Sam was thinking about the apartment he’d shared with Jessica, and he found himself wondering how many happy hours his little brother had spent with his girlfriend, shopping for knick-knacks to decorate their home. He’d have given anything for his brother to have that happiness still. But with a major league demon after him, and who knew what else out there, Dean knew that it would be a long time before Sam could have a normal life again. Sighing inaudibly, Dean switched back to the job as the young woman returned, a loaded tray in her hands.

Uncoiling his long frame from the slightly overstuffed couch, Sam took the tray from Elizabeth’s hands and set it gently down on the coffee table. Forcing his memories back into the box inside his head that refused to stay locked, no matter how hard he tried; he smiled encouragingly at the girl as she took a seat opposite the two hunters.

Elizabeth nodded her thanks as the heavy tray was taken from her shaky grasp. She took a cup, added cream and sugar, and indicated the other cups with a slight wave of her hand. “Please – help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Taking one of the cups, Dean balanced it carefully on his knee as he appraised the girl. “So – can you tell us exactly what happened the night Geoffrey disappeared?”

“It’s all in the report,” Elizabeth murmured softly.

“Well, yeah, we know – but – just go over it again for us – in your own words. Just in case something’s come to you since you filed the report.”

“Elizabeth,” Sam began softly, leaning forward a little. “We know this is difficult for you, and we understand. But – we really need to know. There might be something – some little detail – that was missed in the initial report. Something you might not have noticed at the time, but – it could be important. Please.”

It took all of Dean’s willpower to quell the smirk that threatened to split his face in two. He knew those puppy dog eyes of his brother’s would accompany that soft, sympathetic tone. So far he hadn’t seen anyone who could resist giving in to that heartfelt plea, and from the look on the girl’s face, she was going to be no exception.

“Um – well, like I told the other officers, we usually go out for dinner and a movie – it’s our Friday night thing, you know?”

Sam nodded slowly. He and Jess had had their little rituals, too. Sometimes he missed them so much it was like a physical pain, and he swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Go on.”

“Well, he was late. I’d tried to call him, but his cell was switched off. Then when he arrived – he was – nervous – edgy, and I thought that something had happened at work. But he said everything was all right – he’d just had a meeting after work. But I could tell, he just wasn’t himself.”

“So, he wasn’t normally nervous,” Dean interjected.

Elizabeth gave a tiny, breathless laugh. “Geoff was never nervous – well, if you don’t count the night he asked me to marry him.” She twisted the tiny diamond ring on her finger as she continued. “No, Geoff was – always cheerful. Nothing got him down, not for very long. Not even the headaches.”

“Headaches?” Gripping his coffee cup tightly in one hand, Sam leaned forward, his gaze sharpening as he focussed on the girl. “What headaches?”

“Well, it started just over a year ago. He’d get these really intense headaches – migraines. They’d wipe him out. And for a little while, after they first started, he was kind of quiet and withdrawn, as if he was – I don’t know – worried about something. Whenever I asked, he’d just tell me it was nothing – it was just the headache. The doctor couldn’t find anything that was causing them, so he just put it down to stress.”

Stress, Sam thought bitterly. Yeah, that would about cover it.

“So, that night – what else happened?” The elder Winchester insisted quietly. “What happened after dinner?”

“Well, he calmed down during our meal, but then when we got back to the car, he said – he had to meet this guy from work again. Geoff said this guy could put him in touch with another guy who could – help with his future.”

“And you didn’t happen to get his name? This guy that Geoff was going to meet? Or where they were gonna meet? Anything?” Dean’s jaw clenched as he waited for the girl’s answer.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, tapping her fingers against her knee as she tried to recall anything that might help the two detectives. “No, no – I don’t think…wait, there was something – or someone. I remember now. Geoffrey did mention a name – that guy that he said could help him, I think.”

Dean inclined his head. “Do you remember this person’s name?”

The young woman frowned. “It was – some sort of gun, I think – Colt? No, that’s not right…”

Tension knotted Sam’s limbs. Dean held his breath.

“Winchester. That was it. Sam Winchester. That’s who Geoffrey said he had to find. That’s the guy that the other guy said could help with Geoff’s future.”

The elder hunter stiffened in shock as his brother drew in a sharp breath. Dean’s peripheral vision caught Sam’s cup-filled right hand moving toward the coffee table, and he knew without a doubt that Sam was about to blow their cover and admit to the girl who he really was. Without a second’s thought, Dean moved, knocking against Sam’s forearm and causing the younger man to spill the hot coffee all over his hand and leg.

“Crap!” Sam shot to his feet as the steaming liquid burned his skin, dropping the cup onto the carpet. He shook out his hand, glaring at his brother in annoyance. “Damn it!” Reaching down with his other hand, he pulled his wet trouser leg away from his scalded flesh.

“I’m so sorry, partner,” Dean muttered contritely. “Here, we better get that looked at – that’s a bad burn.” Turning to Elizabeth as he got to his feet, Dean gestured apologetically. “Ma’am, I’m sorry – we’ll come back later, okay? I better get my buddy’s hand seen to.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I hope it’s okay.”

Dean grasped Sam’s arm, hustling him toward the front door. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thank you for your time. You’ve been a great help.”

The front door banged closed behind the hunters, and Dean maintained his grip on Sam’s arm as he hurried him to the waiting Impala.

“Dean,” Sam began angrily.

“Not here!” Dean keyed open the door, giving Sam a not so gentle shove toward the passenger seat as he let go of his arm and strode around to the driver’s side. He threw himself behind the wheel without another word, barely waiting for his sibling to close the door before bringing the V8 roaring to life and peeling away from the kerb.

Sam held up his scalded hand, gritting his teeth as he examined the reddened skin. Blisters were already starting to form, and his hand throbbed. It felt like it was on fire. He’d been just as shocked as his big brother when he’d heard the girl mention his name, and the fact that Geoffrey had been looking for him. He’d been about to tell Elizabeth who he was when Dean had bumped into him, causing him to spill his coffee. His jaw tightened in growing anger as he turned his gaze to his sibling.

Dean noticed the savage glare from the corner of his eye. Sighing, he bowed to the inevitable Sam blowout. “Okay, spill, before you rupture something.”

“What the hell, Dean?”

“What was I supposed to do – just let you spill your guts and blow our cover?”

“You could have just said something!”

Dean snorted. “Oh, yeah, I can just see it – ‘oh, hey, Sam, don’t tell the hot chick that you’re Sam Winchester, the one her freak boyfriend’s looking for.’ Yeah, that would have worked.”

Sam clenched his teeth. “Look, smartass…”

“No, you look.” Dean held up a warning finger as Sam let out an annoyed huff. “You were gonna go off half-cocked, tell her who you are, and then the crap would have hit the fan. Not gonna happen, Sam, not on my watch. We dig around some more first.”

“You heard her, Dean – Geoffrey said he was looking for me…”

“That’s what I’m talking about…”

“To help him, Dean!”

Dean thumped the steering wheel, his own anger mounting at his stubborn sibling. “And how did he know who you are, huh?”

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but his brother cut him off before he could say a word in his defence.

“He just picked your name out of the ‘Freaky Psychic Kids Helpline’ directory, is that it?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I believe in Santa Claus, too.”

“Dean…”

“You’re not thinking, Sam. You’re too close to this gig. He could be possessed already, he could be another Max Miller – he could even be some whackjob friend of that son of a bitch Gordon, and you’re just gonna walk in there thinkin’ you’re gonna save his immortal soul, and get your ass shot off for your troubles. Well, it’s not gonna happen!”

The younger hunter slumped back against the seat, and cradled his burned hand against his chest as he transferred his glare to the passing scenery.

“Jeez, Sam, he’s probably the one who’s forcing these visions! And you just want to offer yourself up on a damned plate!” Dean glanced at his brooding sibling, noting the stubbornly outthrust jaw and the narrowed eyes. That look reminded him so much of their father, that for a moment his heart ached. And then he sighed. Trust Sam to pick the worst of their dad’s traits to emulate. The kid certainly had more than his fair share of the renowned Winchester pigheadedness. “Dude, do me a favour – drop the attitude. It’s really getting old.”

Sam tensed, anger vibrating through his frame. He refused to look at his brother, concentrating his gaze on the world beyond the confines of the Chevy.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “So, tell me what you got.” He flicked his gaze to his little brother, noting the bunched muscles in Sam’s shoulders and arms. “Dude,” he continued warningly.

“What?”

“Tell me what you got to make me believe that this guy is just an innocent victim.” Dean shook his head as Sam shrugged. “Well, then I’ll tell you – you got nothin’. All we know is that this guy was born in nineteen eighty-three, like you, and that he’s in the visions you keep getting hit with. Oh, and in one of the visions, the guy’s possessed, and he turns me into a crispy critter. And this guy also happened to disappear off the face of the earth about a week ago, which was around the time when your freaky ass visions started. That about cover it?”

The young psychic dropped his gaze.

“I said, did that about cover it?” Dean insisted sternly.

“Yes!” Sam muttered testily. He pulled at his tie, jerking the knot loose, tiny beads of sweat forming on his face and neck as he tossed the scrap of silk into the back seat.

“So, we got practically zip. We don’t know what we’re gonna walk into, exactly. So we keep digging, and hope we get a lead on where Geoffrey went, and what he wants with you – before we go in and announce ourselves. Okay?” Getting no immediate response, Dean reached out, and swatted Sam on the shoulder. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Sam ground out.

“I told you to lose the attitude, Sam.” Dean glanced sideways again, catching the slight wince as Sam moved his blistered hand to a more comfortable position. He relented a little, figuring he’d browbeaten his stubborn little brother enough for one afternoon. “We’ll get that burn seen to, and tomorrow we’ll go hunt up some more of Geoffrey’s friends – see if he mentioned your name to any of ‘em, okay? And maybe we’ll luck out on who Geoff went to meet that night.”

Sam nodded reluctantly. An uneasy silence settled over the interior of the car, as both brothers’ thoughts turned inward.

Dean turned on the radio, and shoved his favourite AC/DC tape in with unnecessary force. Cranking it up, he let the soothing sounds of rock and roll fill the brittle atmosphere. He was annoyed at his emo little brother; an overwhelming desire to slam the Chevy to a halt, haul Sam out of the car and beat some sense into him becoming an almost palpable need. He couldn’t understand how Sam could want to help these twisted kids – why his little brother couldn’t see that they were dangerous freaks. Dean just wanted to get his brother as far away from them as possible, and keep him away – keep him safe, so he didn’t end up like one of them.

Sam was staring out the window, fighting the urge to fold his hand into a fist and take a swing at his stubborn elder brother when the first stabbing pain of the familiar migraine shot through his head like a lightning bolt. He gasped, the sound drowned out by the screeching tones of Bon Scott, and he scrunched his eyes closed as a second jolt followed the first.

A faint whimper from the passenger side of the car reached Dean’s ears, and he glanced at his sibling as he reached to turn the volume down on the cassette player. “Sam?”

A bright actinic flare lanced across Sam’s vision, and he flinched, the migraine hammering between his eyes as though a sharp iron spike was being driven into his head. Sam clamped his teeth onto his lower lip, a strangled whimper escaping his bloodless lips as the vision began.

His world tilted on its axis, and the scenery blurred, the outlines shifting, melting, and reforming, and Sam found himself in a wide, airy atrium. He glanced around at the structure, realising he was in some kind of shopping mall. People moved past him, arms laden with bags and parcels, an incessant flow of humanity. He heard no sound, and he frowned, reaching out to brush the arm of a young woman passing by. She continued on, oblivious to his presence, and Sam drew back nervously. “Hello?” he called softly.

Soft laughter echoed through the cavernous mall, and Sam glanced up, squinting against the bright sunlight falling through the glass panels in the roof. A shadowy figure stood at the railing surrounding the second floor, his head inclined downward, as though he was looking down at the young hunter.

“Who are you?” Sam called, anger tingeing his deep tone. “Where’s Geoff? What have you done with him?”

The man laughed again, and stretched out his arm. His finger pointed to an area off to Sam’s left, and the psychic turned in the indicated direction, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what the stranger was pointing at.

A thick rope was tied to the railing a few feet from where the stranger stood. Sam’s eyes followed the rope down to a horizontal beam suspended about fifteen feet off the floor. Dean hung from the beam, his arms tied to the rough wood, his legs dangling free, his feet kicking helplessly. He gazed back at Sam, horror twisting his handsome face.

“No!” Sam gasped, trying to move toward his brother. He felt as if his feet were mired in thick molasses. Fighting against unseen bonds that pulled at his ankles, he edged closer, his gaze locked on his brother’s wide green eyes. “Dean, hold on!”

The man laughed again as he raised his hand. Fire glowed in his palm, and he leered at the struggling young psychic. Swinging his arm forward, the stranger pitched the flaming orb as if it was a baseball.

“Noooo!” Sam screamed, unable to tear his gaze away as the ball of fire hit the centre of Dean’s chest, bursting like a bomb across his torso. Dean shrieked, his whole body convulsing as the flames engulfed him, the crackling of the hungry fire becoming a roar as it consumed the hunter.

“Come out and play, Sam,” The stranger called softly. “Come out and play.”

Sam fell headlong, the marbled floor seeming to rush up to meet him. He never felt the impact, but continued to fall, the roaring of the fire and his brother’s dying screams following him into darkness.

“Sam!” Dean flung a hand across his brother’s chest as his booted foot slammed down on the brake pedal, bringing the Chevy to a sliding halt. He wrenched the door open and jumped from the still rocking car, sprinting around to the passenger side as Sam began to convulse. Dean pulled on the door, watching in horror as his brother’s body jumped and jittered, his long limbs jerking uncontrollably. “Sammy!”

Quickly the elder hunter wrapped his arms around his brother, holding Sam tightly to his chest as the younger man continued to convulse. Gritting his teeth, Dean rode out the attack, breathing a sigh of relief as the violent tremors began to die down. He relaxed his grip as Sam sagged in his arms, the shaggy head falling forward. Dean began to straighten his brother back against the seat, frowning as he felt a warm liquid drip onto his hand. He leaned over, and he cursed as he saw that his hand was covered in blood.

“Jeez!” Dean pulled Sam’s head back, grimacing at the thick ruby red flood pouring from the young psychic’s nose. He quickly threaded his free arm under Sam’s knees, and lifted the stricken man out of the car, seating him gently on the ground beside the open door of the Impala. Dean dropped to the ground behind his brother, pulling Sam’s limp frame back against his chest. Wrapping one arm around Sam’s torso, Dean tugged a clean handkerchief out of his pocket, and pressed it to his brother’s face as he let the tousled head drop forward.

Pain lanced through Sam’s head like a jackhammer, pounding relentlessly against the inside of his skull until he thought it would actually crack the bone. Sam groaned, keeping his eyes tightly closed as he tried to breathe past the migraine. Panic seized him as he felt something clamped over his nose, and he struggled feebly, his hands flailing against a corded arm.

“Easy, kiddo, just take it easy. Breathe through your mouth, dude. It’s okay, I gotcha.”

The familiar voice soothed the young hunter – a lifetime of following the instructions of that deep tone kicking in, and Sam drew in a shaky breath through his mouth, his panic melting away as precious air was dragged into his lungs.

“That’s it, dude, just keep breathing through your mouth for me.”

Strong arms held him in a secure grip, and he relaxed against a hard muscled chest.

“Just take it slow, kiddo. That was a bad one,” Dean murmured softly. He kept his gaze on his sibling, worried by Sam’s ragged, uneven breathing. “Just breathe, Sammy. That’s it. It’s almost over.”

Sam’s stomach roiled, and he jerked in his big brother’s grip. Dean tipped him forward, just as the coffee he had drunk earlier that morning bubbled up his throat. He retched, drew in a shallow, wheezing breath, and retched again, the acid burning his mouth.

Dean waited until the bout of nausea ended, and then he drew Sam’s limp frame back against his chest. “Easy kiddo, it’s all over now. I gotcha. Just breathe, Sammy.”

Sam couldn’t spare the breath to speak. He raised a trembling hand and clasped Dean’s wrist in a weak grip. Closing his eyes, he relaxed against Dean’s solid frame, comforted by the security of his big brother’s presence, just as he’d always been. For as long as Sam could remember, there’d always been Dean, a rock solid barrier between him and the monsters – even the ones in his own mind.

Dean smiled wryly as he felt Sam’s long sensitive fingers wrap around his wrist. It never failed to amuse him how his little brother could be ready to take a swing at him one minute, and then cling to him like a lifeline in the next. But then, if he was honest with himself, he felt the same way – one second he wanted to beat the crap out of his stubborn, moody sibling, and now he was kneeling on the dusty ground, holding his baby brother safe in his arms, his big brother protective mode kicked into high gear because Sam needed him. Dean guessed that was just what being a brother was all about – they might argue and bitch at each other, but cut one, and the other bled. Family was everything – and his brother was all the family he had left, therefore, his brother was everything to him. Not that he’d ever have that chick flick moment and admit that out loud, especially to Sammy. He gently tilted Sam’s head back and checked his face, relieved to find that the nosebleed had finally stopped.

“You okay, kiddo?”

The voice in his ear also vibrated through his shoulder, pressed as it was against Dean’s chest. Sam slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the glare of the sun. “Dean,” he whispered.

“I gotcha, Sammy.”

“Burned…” Sam felt his chest constrict as panic seized him once again.

“Who burned?” Dean tightened his hold on his little brother as he felt Sam begin to shiver. “Easy, dude.”

“You – burned…”

“Okay, all right. We won’t talk about it right now, okay, dude? Let’s get you back to the motel first, huh?”

“…’kay…”

“Okay.” The elder hunter shifted his grip on his precious burden. “Come on, let’s get you up.” Dean stood up, and slid his hands under Sam’s armpits, hoisting the groggy psychic to his feet. “Here we go.”

Sam felt himself being lifted, and he concentrated his fading energy on getting his feet under him. His legs turned to jelly, and he almost fell back to the ground. Flailing out with his uninjured hand, he caught the edge of the Impala’s roof as Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding him up and swinging him onto the cool leather seat.

“Okay, I gotcha.” Dean settled his sibling gently onto the passenger seat, and closed the door, leaning against it for a brief second before heading around to the driver’s side. He folded the blood-soaked handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket as he slid behind the wheel, casting an anxious glance at his brother as he leaned forward to turn the key in the ignition. “You okay, dude?”

Nodding slightly, Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat as the Impala rumbled to life.

Dean fell silent, keeping a close eye on his sibling as he steered the Chevy back toward the motel. He didn’t like this one little bit. Sam was getting far too many visions for his liking, and they were taking a harsh toll on the young psychic. Never before had Dean seen his brother go into convulsions or have a nosebleed after a vision. The demon was playing some kind of psychic game, of that he was sure, and a cold rage boiled up inside his gut. He was gonna tear the son of a bitch a new one before sending his demonic ass back to hell in little pieces. No hell spawn was gonna mess with his baby brother like that and live to boast about it. Not on his watch.

Rolling his aching head to the side, Sam stared out the window at the town, letting the vision play over and over in his mind. He tried to bring the shadowed figure into sharper focus, but he couldn’t make out the man’s face clearly. Frustrated, he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He couldn’t be sure if the man in his latest vision was Geoff Simmonds. Sam figured that Dean had already made his mind up that they were chasing another Max Miller, or Anson Weems. But Sam wasn’t sure. Maybe they would find the other psychic before the demon possessed him. Sam knew that was a slim hope, but he had to hang onto it. He had to keep believing that at least a few of them would be saved, that not all of them were destined to turn evil. If he stopped believing that, he’d be lost.

The Chevy approached a shopping mall, and suddenly Sam stiffened, sitting bolt upright in his seat. “Dean!”

“What!” Dean’s foot hovered over the brake pedal as his startled gaze darted over the surrounding area.

“Just – pull over.”

“Crap! You gonna hurl again?” Spotting a parking spot on the side of the road, he deftly swung the wheel, bringing the Impala to an abrupt halt.

“No – but that shopping mall…” Sam pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead as he squinted at the multi storey building gleaming in the bright sunshine. “I think it was the one in my vision.”

“Shopping mall? You’re having visions about shopping malls? What – you’re telling me you need retail therapy or somethin’?” Dean held up his hands in a gesture of peace as his brother glared at him. “What, you don’t think that’s funny?”

“I don’t find anything even remotely funny about seeing you burn to death, Dean!” Sam flung himself out of the car and stood for a moment, swaying slightly as he fought off an attack of dizziness, oblivious to the curious stares from passers-by.

“So much for lightening the mood,” Dean muttered as he slid from the car and strode across to his sibling. He reached out and grasped Sam’s upper arm. “Dude, chill. First off, I need to know if you got a handkerchief.”

Sam stared at his brother in confusion. “A handkerchief…uh – yeah, I got one – why?”

Reaching into the back seat for a bottle of water, Dean handed it to his brother. "How about you put it to good use and clean yourself up before you go in there, huh? You look like a refugee from a train wreck."

Glaring daggers at his smirking sibling, Sam sat back down and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. Tipping a little of the water onto the cloth, he cleaned the smears of dried blood from his face. “Better?”

“Much.” But big brother wasn’t finished. “And dust yourself off.” Dean followed his own advice, and swept his hands across the legs of his trousers, shaking off the dust from the road. Nodding to his sibling as Sam joined him on the sidewalk, he carefully locked the car before turning to face the mall. His gaze flicked to his brother, concern brimming in his eyes. “You okay to do this?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sam darted a swift glance at his brother as they strode toward the automatic doors. “We gotta find answers, Dean – before Geoff – or the demon – kills someone else.”

“Okay, all right – just stay close.”

The brothers stepped through the doors side by side, their wary gazes roaming over the throngs of busy shoppers as they moved further into the building. Thankfully, the crowd was light, and the hunters found no trouble making their way toward the centre of the mall.

Sam studied the airy atrium, and his heart clenched in his chest. It was the same one from his vision. Quickly he scanned the upper floors, tensing as he saw the figure of a man standing at the railing on the second floor. He relaxed as the man turned toward a little girl in pigtails running toward him. The stranger scooped the girl up in his arms, laughed at something she whispered in his ear, and strode off through the crowd. The psychic mopped a hand across his forehead as he continued searching.

Dean scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he looked for Geoffrey Simmonds among the shoppers. He’d memorised the guy’s face from the photographs he’d seen back at the apartment, confident he could pick the guy out from the crowd. Feeling a pressure at his shoulder, he twitched in annoyance. “Dude, personal space.”

Sam’s burned hand felt like it was on fire, and he grimaced in pain as the fire slowly spread up his arm to his chest. He pulled at his shirt collar, unfastening the top two buttons, wondering if it was some weird reaction to the burn, or if the building’s air conditioning was on the blink. The very air felt as if it was on fire, and Sam struggled to pull oxygen into his lungs. Sweat trickled down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt, and he swayed, bumping into his brother’s shoulder. He dropped his head, feeling dizzy and sick, his breathing growing ragged. Dimly, as if from a great distance, he heard his brother’s voice, but he couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in his ears.

“Sam, get off me!” Dean took a half step away, turning his head to shoot a glare at his brother. His eyes flew wide in shock as Sam toppled against him, knocking him to the floor. “Holy…” The breath whooshed from Dean’s lungs as his brother’s big frame landed across his chest, and he pushed futilely at the unmoving form pinning him to the marble floor. “Sam,” he wheezed, his face flushing bright red with embarrassment as a crowd began to gather around the fallen brothers.

“Oh, my God – is he okay? Are you okay?” A stocky, middle aged woman leaned down, wisps of stringy hair escaping from the tight bun at the back of her head as she gazed at the young men sprawled on the floor.

“Fine,” Dean gasped, trying to get his hands under Sam’s shoulders. Suddenly, the crushing weight was lifted off him, and he drew in a ragged breath as he sat up, his gaze tracking toward his unconscious sibling, and the burly young man who was lowering him gently to the floor. “Hey – thanks.”

“No problem.” Nodding affably, the young man mountain glanced down at Sam’s unmoving form. “What happened?”

Dean scooted across the floor, reaching out to check his sibling’s pulse. He scowled as he found it beating fast and erratic beneath his fingers. Quickly he raised Sam’s eyelids, checking his pupils. The young psychic didn’t respond, the only movement being the rapid, shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Dean’s mind raced. “Ah – he gets – blackouts.” Thank God it’s not a vision.

“Oh, the poor boy!” The woman who had first spoken knelt at Sam’s other side, and laid a gentle hand against his sweat-soaked brow. She glanced at the concerned older brother. “He’s burning up. You need a doctor, honey?”

Dean shook his head, hating the stares of the crowd. He knew his shy little brother would hate the attention too, if he were awake. But then again, he recalled wryly, if Sam had been awake, there wouldn’t have been a crowd. “No, no, no – it’s fine. I just need to get him home, and – uh – give him his meds. He’ll be fine in an hour or so.”

“Where’s your car?” The young man scooped Sam’s limp frame up off the floor as easily as picking up a child.

Dean’s eyes flew wide in surprise. He’d picked his brother up hundreds of times, albeit with an effort since Sam had become an adult, and had grown three inches taller than his elder brother. But the huge young guy hadn’t even batted an eyelid as he stood holding Sam in his arms, waiting for Dean’s instructions. The elder hunter almost wished his sibling would wake up at that very moment, just so he could see the look on Sam’s face. That would truly be a Kodak moment. He cleared his throat as he took one last cautious look around. “Uh – car’s this way.”

The small crowd dispersed as the young men moved toward the entrance and the waiting Chevy. The wary hunter failed to notice the lithe figure of a young man standing at the first floor railing, watching them with cold and calculating eyes.

“I could have fried him right here,” Geoffrey Simmonds protested quietly as the Winchesters left the mall. “Why the hell are we just letting them walk away?”

“Patience, my young friend, patience,” the demon in his head murmured.  “Then it wouldn’t be much of a test, would it? You’d never know who was the best and the brightest.”

Geoffrey gave a soft laugh. “I think I know who’s the best and brightest.”

“But we need to be sure, don’t we? Sam Winchester has abilities that are – untapped. We need to draw him out – make him fight.”

“So, what now?”

“Now?” The demon’s voice purred with sadistic pleasure. “Now, we up the ante.”

*     *     *     *     *

 

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