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Sam groaned as he stumbled down the Bunker’s hall. He scrubbed at his face with the futile hope that the feeling would put some energy back into him. He knew it was way too damn early to be awake, but the Trials were starting to take their toll on him. The first one had been rough, but travelling through Hell and Purgatory drained him – and that wasn’t even taking into account the molten surge of agony that raced through him upon completing the second Trial.
He yawned so wide his jaw cracked. Sure, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to try to get some more sleep. But since he was awake, he might as well get some work done. Do some research, maybe get a bit more done with digitizing the Men of Letters’ library…
But first, coffee. He padded into the Bunker’s kitchen and flicked the lights on. He flinched at the abrupt brightness and the obnoxious buzz they let out. It usually wasn’t too bad in the day, but in the wee hours of the morning, it was ten times as loud.
He walked over to the coffee machine, all prepared to get it started and get that sweet, sweet caffeine in him, but drew up short on the way there. Mostly because Kevin was lying on the floor, curled up on his side in the fetal position. He was shivering too, and pretty badly at that, considering Sam could see him trembling from his vantage point.
Coffee momentarily forgotten in favour of more important things, Sam kneeled down beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. It didn’t look like Kevin was asleep, but rather that he had passed out. When he didn’t respond, Sam shook him a little harder, while still trying not to hurt him.
It took one more even harder shake to get a reaction from Kevin. His eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath, too quick and uneven. His eyes darted around, not really landing on anything in particular. As soon as he noticed Sam, he yelped and tried to scramble away from him. His breathing grew even more ragged.
Sam held his hands up in what he hoped looked disarming.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Kevin. It’s just me – Sam.” Kevin stared at him, unblinking but panting. His shaking got even more pronounced than it already was. “Are you with me, Kevin?"
Kevin started muttering under his breath; Sam angled his head towards him to try to make out the words. They were badly slurred, and most weren’t pronounced correctly, but he was pretty sure it was an exorcism. Sam’s immediate reaction was to move closer, but he fought down the urge. Clearly, that wasn’t going to help anything right now.
“Kevin, it’s Sam. Winchester? I’m not a demon, you don’t need to exorcise me.” Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his hands over his ears. He continued chanting the exorcism, but louder this time.
Okay. Regardless of if it would make the situation worse, Sam couldn’t think of anything he could do that wouldn’t require getting closer to Kevin. He inched up slowly, but Kevin had fairly effectively blocked him out. Once he got close enough, he reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Kevin’s forehead.
“Kevin, listen to me.” Sam schooled his voice into the softer, gentler tone he usually only had to use with hysterical witnesses to gruesome supernatural deaths. “You’re burning up, man. We’ve got to do something to bring that fever down, but I can’t help you if you’re going to fight me on it. Can you look at me?”
Kevin’s exorcism trailed off. He was still shivering and his breathing was still rough, but he slowly opened his eyes and pulled his hands away from his ears. He looked over at Sam with wild eyes with deep bags.
“S-Sam?” he asked, fear and confusion soaking his voice. “Are you – Crowley’s gone?”
“Crowley?” Sam shook his head. “Kevin, are you still hallucinating?”
He’d been doing… well, he’d been doing pretty badly over the last couple of weeks, as he finished translating the Demon Tablet enough to figure out the second Trial. He’d called Sam and Dean over to Garth’s houseboat, totally frantic and exhausted. He’d been hallucinating Crowley talking to him, first while he slept, and then later throughout the days. He’d scrawled every available surface in the houseboat with protective sigils.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Sam. He’d already tried to convince Kevin to take a break and take care of himself, back while he was working on the first Trial. Dean had been quick to shut it down, in the form of encouraging him to pop pills and tunnel-vision on translation. He’d even bitched Sam out for thanking Kevin and telling him to take a break for one evening once he figured out the holy fire glasses.
That had been bad enough, but since then they’d gained access to the single safest location on the planet, full to the brim with magical knowledge and impenetrable by anyone who didn’t have the key. There was no reason to leave him on his own, going out of his mind with paranoia.
Sam had already failed him once. He wasn’t about to do so again, not when it was completely in his power to keep him safe.
“I… I don’t know. I guess so?” Kevin rubbed at his arms. “It’s the Tablet as much as it is Crowley. The writing – it gets in my – my head, it hurts most of the time, I get migraines for hours afterwards. I get double vision so bad my eyes ache. The symbols start swimming off of it and I can’t… I’m not sure what’s real,” he finished, trailing off in a hoarse whisper.
“C’mere.” Sam held his hands out; after a moment’s hesitation, Kevin reached out and took them. Slowly, Sam got him to his unsteady feet. Slowly, Sam walked him over to the table and helped him sit down.
Once he was sure that Kevin wasn’t going to fall right out of his chair and back onto the floor, he crossed the room and started rummaging around in the fridge. They didn’t have a lot in there period, and certainly not much that would be good to eat while any of them were sick. Luckily, they always stayed stocked up on sports drinks.
“Hope you like blue,” Sam said. He pulled out a Powerade and plonked it down on the table.
“Hate it,” Kevin quipped, but he still reached out and shakily pulled it across the table to him. It took him a second to get the cap off, but once it was, he drank just about half of it in one go.
Sam sat across the table from him. “As soon as you finish that, you need to get some rest. I know that translating the Tablet’s important, but it’s not worth you losing your mind over.”
“Dean’s gonna throw a fit,” Kevin grumbled into the lip of the bottle.
“Dean doesn’t get a say in this,” Sam said. “I don’t care how pissed he is – it’s not his physical and mental well-being he’s putting on the line for this. If he gives you hell for it, let me know. I’ll talk to him.” He paused, considering. “Or maybe I’ll just punch him. Depends on how much of an ass he’s being,” he shrugged.
Kevin snorted. Over the next few minutes, he finished up his Powerade. Sam took the empty bottle from him so he could rinse it out and recycle it later. He came back around to Kevin’s side of the table and held his arm out so that he’d have something to balance against.
Slowly, the two of them shuffled down the hallways to Kevin’s bedroom. Sam figured once Kevin was inside, he’d be fine on his own. He hovered for just a moment longer, just while Kevin leaned against the doorframe as he made his way in. He turned to leave, but Kevin’s voice stopped him.
“Sam?” Sam turned around. “Maybe take your own advice and take a day off? No offense, but you look like crap, dude.”
Sam chuckled wryly. “Good night, Kevin.”
“G’night.” The door clicked shut behind him a second later. Sam stared at it for a moment; he let out another wry chuckle, which quickly morphed into an enormous yawn.
Yeah, a day off sounded pretty damn good.