Man, this was one vicious nightmare. Sam swallowed thickly, trying to focus on getting Dean to wake up. He didn't know what to do. Sure, the pain made Dean respond, but he still didn't wake up. Spraying water on him didn't work, and calling his name out or shaking wasn't either.

What was he supposed to do now?

Sam looked towards the motel he was parked in front of. He needed to go and see if any of the rooms were livable, but that would involve leaving Dean by himself. But if he didn't leave, then he was just sitting here like an idiot, watching his brother in a nightmare. Sam breathed slowly, trying to think, trying to decide...

He had to get Dean inside, get him comfortable. Maybe once he was on a soft surface, his dreams would grow calmer as well?

Sam pursed his lips together, knowing it was a long shot, but wanting to take it... but that would involve him leaving Dean by himself and Sam was back to square one.

"You gotta wake up, Dean, please," Sam said, just resting a hand on Dean's shoulder this time. "Please wake up," Sam said again. "There's a nice motel here, and it's still standing! You can have a real bed, but you gotta wake up for it, please Dean... Wake up, please," Sam kept repeating, hoping that the 200th time will be the charm.

But Dean wasn't responding, and Sam's frustration was quickly going into despair. He didn't know what to do anymore. He was flying blind, trying to understand what had happened to the world, while trying to take care of Dean and then trying to not keel over and pretend to be dead at the same time. He was running on fumes and he needed his brother, he needed someone he could talk to and bounce ideas off of. This, though... this was making Sam's already fragile control on his emotions only weaker.

Sam rubbed his face, pushing away his tiredness and frustration and also blinking back his tears. He was missing something. He was doing something wrong, and if he could just get his thoughts in a line, he might be able to figure it out.

Maybe the reason is medical?

Sam went back to everything that had happened yesterday... what symptoms was Dean showing? Was there anything particular that stood out?

Sam's brain refused to focus, and he found his attention wavering. "No, no, no, FOCUS!" He reprimanded himself, standing up and pacing a little to try and keep his mind on his thoughts.

"Dean was tired... he was really tired..." Sam whispered, getting sidetracked when he thought of the way Dean had been struggling to walk, how he kept falling asleep. "He... he couldn't drink the water. Nausea?" He asked himself, glancing at the water bottle. "Refused food too... loss of appetite..."

Sam licked his cracked lips and then got into the back of the car again, putting the back of his hand on Dean's forehead and noting that he was burning up, and his cheeks were flushed.

"Shit..." Sam knew what this was, and he was so going to bitch Dean out later because he had given Dean water before he reached this stage and he had refused it! He had... all he had to do was drink it but he had been so fucking focused on his own fucking misery that he hadn't drank the fucking water and now Sam had to rehydrate him with fucking nothing!

"IV. Loss of electrolytes. I don't have equipment! I don't have equipment! FUCK!" Sam snapped, getting out of the car and pacing agitatedly. He didn't even know this town, had no idea where the nearest clinic/hospital would be. He couldn't put a direct line with water, he'll need a saline solution, something with sodium and potassium in it...

"Gatorade... fuck, the diner... 's gotta have Gatorade..." Sam whispered, He took a step towards the diner, and then looked back at Dean, taking a step back towards the car. Then he growled, grabbing his hair and tugging at them. He can't... he couldn't leave Dean... but he had to... GOD He was so damn pissed at Dean right now he couldn't believe it.

In a fit of anger, Sam slammed his forehead into the nearest hard surface and the burst of pain suddenly made his thoughts clearer. He had promised to take care of Dean, and he'll do it even if it killed him.

He rushed towards the remains of the diner, going as fast as his tired feet would allow. Inside there, he found piles upon piles of rotting bodies and Sam's head swam because of the smell. He dry heaved a couple of times before he managed to step over them. Normally, dead bodies didn't affect him, but this many in a closed space, rotting, wasn't doing any favours to Sam's sinuses.

In the back, what had used to be the storage area, he found Gatorade and he laughed first, then cried real tears before heading back to the car. He wanted to have Dean drink it... but how...

He knew that while unconscious, if Sam dribbled liquid down Dean's throat, the first thing the Gatorade is going to do is go into the wrong pipe, and Sam couldn't handle choking on top of Dean's dehydration.

He slammed the back of the SUV close and then got into the driver's seat. He was going to go find a clinic.

About ten minutes it took him to find one at the other end of the town, and in there he found a few still intact sterile packages of IV piping, syringes, and thank God, several bags of still whole saline solutions.

He was quick about setting the whole thing up in the car. He attached the IV bags to the coat hooks above the doors, and then ran the line from them to the syringe he was currently pushing into that little circle of iodine-orange skin on Dean's arm. slowly, he injected the syringe full of saline into Dean's arm, waiting to see if he got the vein right, and then when the syringe emptied itself without causing a ballooning under Dean's skin, he sighed a breath of relief and then adjusted the drip on the IV.

Now he had to wait. He sat down next to Dean, knees pulled up and eyes focused on the saline dripping into the pipe. As he waited, he sipped lightly on the water he had gotten for Dean yesterday. At least he wasn't going to collapse from fucking dehydration when they had such motherfucking huge problems to deal with.