Chapter Text
It all started where it usually starts; an angry ghost.
The ghosts husband had killed their two children by suffocating them in the middle of the night. After a fire to the house, set by the devastated mother, the father lost his life while the wife barely made it out of the house, dying not long after on the front lawn. The family itself became just a story left behind with the ashes of the home. The wife’s body was buried and years later the city has since cleared the area and built a new house in its place, welcoming a new family to call it home, most likely stirring up the spirits themselves.
That’s where the lucky first man was killed. The third death in the area was what drew Sam and Deans attention, each victim being welcomed by death in forms of suffocation. It took a little while to dig into old archives and very few people who were around at that time had much to say other than the husband was an abusive SOB and his wife and children deserved so much more. The reports of shouting coming from the home the night of the fire only supported the abusive accusations, which led to Sam and Deans theory’s on who was causing the deaths.
~~~
Sam eases himself into the cool leather seat of the Impala and sighs out the tension from his shoulders. Even though the case was simple and ended up being just a salt and burn there were a few moments where it was touch and go.
The ghost had appeared as they were salting her bones and made things a little more difficult. The hours of research, investigating and posing as FBI agents were starting to catch up with Sam, not to mention the effort it takes to not get choked out by a enraged dead mother.
Dean slides comfortably behind the wheel and starts the car up as Sam eyes his brother none too slyly.
“You sure you’re alright? Not gonna cough up another lung?” Sam says, real concern in his voice but also freely poking fun at his brother. He gets a death glare in return.
“I’m fine, Sam. My throat was just dry that’s all.”
”Yeah, from you inhaling burning corpse smoke. Not saying you are an abusive A-hole, but I think she was targeting you.” The night was going well planned even with the ghost appearing. They got thrown around a bit but that was normal. Dean wasn’t even directly over the coffin as he burned the bones but somehow it’s as if the dark element of smoke made it’s way straight into Deans lungs, leading to Dean coughing for about 7 minutes straight, gasping for air.
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean says quickly, shutting the conversation down. He clicks the stereo on, playing the tape inside and suddenly Metallica starts playing. Sam can’t tell if its because his brother is embarrassed for some dumb reason or if he’s just exhausted but he can tell Dean isn’t looking forward to the next 2 hours on the road.
Some time later Sam doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep till he wakes and notices it’s freaking cold and the music has stopped. He opens his eyes, immediately getting a blast of AC into his tired sockets. He looks over at his brother whose whole figure has changed in merely over an hour. Deans grip on the steering wheel is tight and almost white knuckled and his whole body is in movement with attempt to get deep breaths in. The breathing concerns Sam the most, not to mention the beads of sweat trickling down his brothers temple.
"Hey, you ok?" Sam immediately but hesitantly asks. Dean looks over wide eyed as if snapping out of a daze.
"What? Of course I am." He says defensively.
"You've turned the car into an ice box." Sam says eyeing his brother up and down looking for any injuries Dean may have failed to tell him about.
"Well it's like a thousand degrees in here." He says turning up the already high ac so it's now extremely uncomfortable.
"Dean it's like 40 degrees out right now and you've got the air blasting." Sam says, pulling his jacket closer to his chest. Dean scratches at his own chest and takes a deep breath. Sam can still hear his brothers echoing coughs and worry overrides everything.
"You think maybe you’ve still got smoke in your lungs?"
Dean looks over, confusion written in his eyes. Sam takes the opportunity of the momentarily confusion to place the back of his hand on Deans forehead. He not surprisingly gets his hand smacked away but not before he can feel the radiating heat.
"Woah what the hell Samantha." Sam looks at Dean in disbelief. "Back off or I'm cutting your hair in your sleep." He returns his eyes to the dark road.
"Dean you're warm. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick?"
"I've been fine! It's just it's....it's really hot in here." Dean scratches at his chest again then looks at Sam frantically. "Is this normal?"
"No Dean, cooking in your own skin is not normal. Come on, pull over so I can drive."
"Sam it's like....I can't..." Dean's breathing picks up quickly and his eyes widen. "I can't breathe." He grips tight at his shirt and blinks hard at the road.
"Dean?" Sam’s full attention is on his brother and he sees more clearly his flushed face.
Dean suddenly pulls the car to the side of the road, wheels screeching off the cement onto rocks and dirt which tells Sam immediately that something is really really wrong. Without putting the car in park Dean throws his door open and falls out onto the road promptly throwing up the contents of his stomach.
Sam quickly jerks over into the drivers seat, his long legs awkwardly hitting the gear and sets it into park to stop the car from rolling away. He just narrowly misses the vomit on the ground as he hops out. Dean is slumped over now leaning against the stopped car, breaths coming out in puffs.
“Dang it Dean. You’re really sick.” Dean looks blearily up and it shocks Sam to his core. The mask that is always placed instead of any emotions is no where to be seen. His brother looks lost and scared.
“Sam...” His name is whispered out and Sam grips his brothers shoulder tight, placing the other hand on his searing cheek.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” The most concerning part is how quickly this all came on. Dean hardly gets sick in the first place but to have it come out of no where and to have it so severe is what’s scary.
“You gonna puke again?” Sam says lowly. Dean considers it then leans his head back against the solid car supporting him.
“No....maybe...don’t know.” Sam sighs, they aren’t too far from the motel right now and it would be best to get Dean off the gravel out of the chilly wind and into bed. He's gotta figure out what is happening. Sam hopes against hope it doesn't have to do with the ghost, but he knows deep down it always has something to do with the supernatural.
“Okay, I'll help you up and you can lay in the back. I'll drive slow but we have to get back to the motel. You tell me if you get nauseous again.” Deans eyes are still closed and he brings a hand to scratch at his chest again still breathing heavily as if he can't get enough air. Sam itches to pull the older mans shirt up to see if there is telling signs of injury on his chest but thinks about Deans earlier comment and decides he wants to keep his hair for now. He’ll just have to wait till they’re back to the motel.
“Dean?” His brother opens his eyes and nods slightly.
Helping Dean into a laying position on the back leather seat is a bit more of an ordeal then he would like. Dealing with a arm full of 6 feet and 3 inches of Dean has never been the easiest thing, especially when said brother doesn’t offer too much help. Sam starts the car and takes off, half watching the road and half watching the review mirror to his view of the backseat.
Sam shoves away his worry, Dean will be fine. He always is.