Concussed and Dangerous (SPN, Sam)

[Wolfwings22]

Man it has been a hot minute since I’ve posted. I’ve been struggling with a ton of stuff in my personal life, but I’m hoping to be able to get back to writing since it definitely distracts me from whatever else is going on. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoys this Supernatural story since for the life of me I can’t let this fandom go. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

Prompt-Sam's fever wasn't TOO high when they started digging up this grave (in the rain and the cold, obviously) but it's definitely spiked and he's miserable and Dean's mad at the whole universe that Sam's miserable. Then the spirit comes along and tosses Sam into a gravestone, so now he's got a high fever and a concussion and isn't that just spectacular.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    "Are you sure that you're okay, Sam," called Dean as his head popped up from the grave that they had been digging.

 

    At least, it had been 'we' until a little while ago. Sam's constant coughing and sneezing had caused the congestion to shift in his head and caused his nose to just drip without any sign of stopping. So, Dean had told him to sit and hold the flashlight for him instead. However, it had just started to rain in almost thirty degree weather and now Sam looked even worse then when they started.

 

    Dean huffed in anger when he saw Sam staring off into space and not answering him. "Sam!"

 

    Sam jumped in shock as he looked at his brother. He let out a breath of fear before he gulped. "Oh, yeah, Dean," he sniffled as he rubbed a glove glad hand against his red, irritated nostrils.

 

    Dean frowned. "I asked if you were okay," Dean repeated.

 

    Sam wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. His nose was twitching madly and he looked sicker than sick. His cheeks were flushed with obvious fever, while his throat felt like it was being constantly rubbed with sandpaper whenever he swallowed. His chest felt like an elephant was standing on it, and his ears were so clogged that he could hardly hear. If you didn't count any of that then he felt fine. He knew better than to lie to his brother, however, knowing that Dean would be able to see straight through him.

 

    "I'b fine, Deadn. ATcschzzz!"

 

    Dean jumped at the explosive sound of Sam's sneeze. Sam had tried to contain it to the best of his ability, but he wasn't very successful at it. He looked embarrassed as he glanced up, rubbing the gloved hand even harder against his nose. His glove was basically dripping in rain and his own snot by now and there was nothing that could be done about it and Dean knew that. That's why it pissed him off to no end.

 

    "I can't believe that we couldn't wait to do this! But, no, Bobby said as soon as we could get this done we had to, and apparently that meant now, and you just had to catch a damn cold," Dean snarled, more annoyed at the situation than at Sam himself.

 

    Sam knew that Dean wasn't directly talking to him and that he wasn't angry at him. But, it didn't help how loud Dean's voice had grown. Sam ducked his head down and sighed loudly, throat and mouth tickling like mad. He rubbed his glove against his face again and coughed painfully. He felt like he was going to pass out with his mind beginning to grow more hazy by the minute.

 

    "Are you albost done," Sam whimpered.

 

    Dean's attention turned from vengeful to caring older brother in no time flat."Yeah, Sammy, I'm almost done," he told him with a  reassuring smile.

 

    Sam dipped his head as he sat back on the muddy ground and flashed the light down. He sniffed hard since he didn't have any tissues on him, but his nose had started to run again and it was beyond the point of ignoring. He growled as he lifted his glove forcefully against his nose, which had turned almost raw and frozen to the touch.    

 

    "Dean," Sam called.

 

    Dean thrust his shovel against the ground as firmly as he could as he threw the dirt onto the even ground. He turned to Sam, shivering himself. "Yeah, Sammy?"

 

    "Do you habe a tissue or sobething," he pleaded as he snuffled heavily, choking back a glob of phlegm in the back of his throat. "My dose is ruddig.”

 

    Dean patted each of his pockets twice and managed to produce a semi dry bandanna. He waved it around as Sam leaned forward and swiped it from his brother. He brought it up to his nose and blew his nose loudly. Once he was finished he leaned back and breathed with his mouth open. His nostrils gleamed in the moonlight and Dean could see the sweat on Sam’s forehead.

 

    "Sam," Dean asked as he noticed just how out of it Sam seemed to be. The thought only intensified when he noticed that Sam’s hands were starting to shake so much that he couldn't hold the flashlight firm anymore and it was shaking all over the place. "Sam!"

 

    Sam looked over in surprise as Dean walked over. The grave wasn't too deep yet and he was glad that this small town didn't practice the common 6 feet under rule that everywhere else did. He quickly pulled off one of his gloves and pressed a freezing hand against Sam's forehead. Sam actually leaned into his brother’s touch, which was Dean's first concern.

 

    "Sam, you're like a freaking furnace," Dean fretted as he rested the back of his hand against both of Sam’s cheeks.

 

    Worry showed on Sam's face as he gave a squelching sniffle. "Is that bad?"

 

    "Just a little," Dean lied since he didn't want to worry Sam. However, this wasn't good. Sam had a tendency to spike crazy high fevers out of nowhere when he had a small cold. They had been lucky so far, but it was clear that their luck was about to run out. "Just stay focused on me, okay? When we get back to the motel you're going to have a bath."

 

    Sam looked beyond confused. "Bath?"

 

    "Yeah, Sammy. It'll help with that fever that you're sporting," he answered as he turned back to the task at hand. "Just give me like ten minutes and then we'll be out of here, okay?"

 

    Sam wasn't really sure what else he could tell his brother. Instead, he sighed and nodded in defeat. "Yeah, Dean," he answered with his features drawn in exhaustion.

 

    Dean went back to shoveling and the sound of it was probably the only thing that was keeping Sam awake. He dozed off a few times, but caught his head before it could fall forward. He was just cold, sick, and miserable, and wanted to get out of there.

 

    Sam sighed as he turned his head to the side, grimacing as rain dripped onto his head and trickled down his neck. He blinked his eyes when he saw something almost transparent coming toward them. It stuck out a hand toward him as it floated over to them. Sam looked at it in surprise before he sniffled again, leading to an explosive volley of sneezes.

 

    "AtTchzz! AtchChzz!"

 

    "Bless you," Dean called over his shoulder.

 

    Sam was too stunned by what he was witnessing to actually respond to his brother in any way. He continued to look forward with his mouth slight ajar as his nose ran freely, but it mixed with the rain dousing his face so he wasn't as bothered by it.

 

    "Did you hear me, Sam? There's usually an accurate response when someone says 'bless you'," Dean pointed out, just trying to keep Sam awake. He really didn't care if Sam answered him or not, but he couldn't have him going to sleep with a spiking fever like that. That would require a trip to the emergency room and he couldn't bring in a soaked Sam there. They would have someone investigating them in no time flat.

 

    Suddenly, the sound of a thud caught Dean's attention. He turned just in time to see the ghost of Mrs. Charleton throw Sam into a tombstone. His head snapped against it with a sickening crunch that caused Dean's blood to turn to ice in his veins.

 

    "Sam," Dean screeched as he jumped out of the grave and shot rock salt immediately a her. She disappeared for the time being with a scream while Dean rushed to his brother side. He kneeled down and ripped off his glove and ran his fingers through Sam's wet hair, checking for injuries along his head and down his neck. "Sam? Sam! Sammy!”

 

    Sam didn't respond and when Dean looked down he saw blood running out from under the back of his brother’s head and mixed with rain and sweat. Dean lifted Sam’s head delicately and saw an impressive sized gash that’s oozed thick crimson liquid. Alarm pooled in Dean’s stomach as he began to shake Sam's shoulders madly. "Sam!"

 

    Sam opened one eye, but looked beyond disoriented. Dean went to touch his head, but Sam immediately winced and tried to draw back against the tombstone even more. Dean could only guess that Sam had some sort of a concussion thanks to the impact thanks to his skull colliding with the tombstone.

 

    "You stay right here, Sammy. I-I'll be right back," Dean told him in a small whisper.

 

    Sam didn't nod, but he did snap forward with an uncovered sneeze that almost caught’s Dean's hand in the spray. "AtcShzz! Atchshshzz! ATcshShzzz! Ow."

 

    "Bless you. Hang tight," Dean whispered as he stood up and loaded another shell. He cocked the barrel back and looked around apprehensively, gaze scanning for any sign of the old hag. "Show yourself you son of a bitch!"

 

    There was snickering all around him and Dean didn't even want to think where it could be coming from. He looked around in the darkness and let out a deep breath that he didn't even know that he was holding. He gazed around madly with the calculated moves of a hunter, butt of the shotgun pressed against his shoulder and stance shortened in case he needed to dodge or dart in the opposite direction.

 

    There was suddenly a blast of cold as Dean was thrown backwards. He rolled sideways almost to the grave that he had dug. He smiled shyly as he stood up and hurried to light to match. He quickly struck the match against the box and threw it in the grave. Mrs. Charleton let out a scream as her casket went up in flames along with her bones. She looked down at her rapidly disintegrating  form before she suddenly disappeared right in front of Dean’s eyes with a guttural scream.

 

    "See, was that so hard," he muttered to himself as he stood up and tried to brush the dirt and mud off of his jeans as well as he possibly could. A moment later his attention turned to the most important thing: Sam.

 

    Dean rushed over and kneeled beside his brother, planting a hand on his shoulder.

 

    Sam hadn't moved so much and now his eyes were now closed. His chest rose and fell sporadically as though he couldn’t get a full breath in. Dean knew that if he couldn't let Sam sleep before, then he certainly couldn't now with the fever and the possibility of a concussion. "Sam, come on. You gotta wake up for me. Sammy!"

 

    He suddenly shook Sam's shoulders against his better judgement and Sam moaned as he opened up one eye. "Whadt," he complained hoarsely, stuffiness settling deep in his sinuses.

 

    Momentary relief coursed through Dean’s veins. “Come on, bitch. Let's get you back to the motel," Dean grunted as he grabbed Sam's arm and struggled to lift him with Sam basically being dead weight. Dean fought to keep him upright with Sam moaning and squeezing his eyes shut while hopelessly sniffing back milky mucus that threatened to spill from either nostril.

 

    "Hurts," complained Sam when they had taken one step and he had almost collapsed to his knees. It was only Dean’s grip and quick thinking that kept him on his feet.

 

    Dean almost dragged himself forward as he tried to at least keep Sam talking. "What? What hurts?"

 

    "My head," complained Sam as he lifted a hand to his head and almost beat the side of it with a semi-closed fist.

 

    Dean grabbed his hand just in time to stop him. He flinched as Sam twisted out of his grip. Clearly Sam was a little stronger than he cared to admit.

 

    “I know it hurts. I’m not surprised in the least it hurts,” Dean murmured with a faint glance at the gash still seemingly blaring at him, leaking fresh blood down the side of his face. Sam didn’t even appear to notice.

 

    "Why," Sam asked in case it wasn't damn near obvious.

 

    "Because you have a concussion. As if a cold wasn't enough to deal with."

 

To Be Continued......

Edited June 2, 2021 by Wolfwings22

[Seeker]

This is lovely! Quality writing, as always. Looking forward to the next part!

[starpollen]

Aww poor Sammy ❤️

[ID2006]

Poor sick Sammy

[Wolfwings22]

On 6/1/2021 at 11:27 AM, Seeker said:

This is lovely! Quality writing, as always. Looking forward to the next part!

I’m so glad that you’ve enjoyed it so far!

 

On 6/1/2021 at 6:59 PM, starpollen said:

Aww poor Sammy ❤️

I just can’t seem to say away from sick Sam no matter how hard I try. I’m glad you’re liking the story so far!

 

On 6/2/2021 at 1:44 AM, ickydog2006 said:

Poor sick Sammy

Sick Sam is such a fun thing to write. I’m glad that you are enjoying the story!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Dean had some real trouble dragging Sam to the Impala. A few times Sam drifted off, but Dean would just shake him and jostle him around to keep him awake and aware. Sam would moan and Dean felt instantly bad, but he couldn't just let his brother drift off like that. He knew that it was dangerous for someone with a concussion to sleep and not to mention how high Sam’s fever had climbed, brain threatening to be fried from within. He instantly regretted telling Sam that he could help him with this so called simple salt and burn.

   

    Sam finally got him in and buckled him up. Sam slumped sideways with his eyes almost rolling up into his head. Dean hit him hard with a fist against his chest and Sam almost whimpered.

 

    “Sorry, buddy, but you need to stay awake for me, okay?"

 

    Sam looked like he was about to cry. He sighed loudly as he slumped to the other side, breathing loudly through his mouth. "Hurts," he complained before he lifted a hand to half hazardly rub at the side of his nose. "Atcchzzz! ATchzhzzz! Atxhxhzzz!"

 

    Dean sat down in the driver's side just in time to see Sam's explosive sneezes spray the dash of his baby. He wanted to snap at Sam about being unsanitary to his precious Impala, but he stopped himself before he could say what was on his mind. His brother hadn't mean to, he knew that. It just hurt that Sam was so ill and he could do nothing about it. That was the real problem that he was having.

 

    "Sorry," croaked Sam as he jammed his eyes shut. "Didn't feel id cobing," he confessed.

 

    Dean waved his right hand dismissively as he jammed the key into the ignition and turned until the engine rolled over. "It's not a problem Sammy, honest," reassured Dean as he fiddled his fingers together, thinking about the quickest way back to the motel. Then again, he needed stuff for Sam and he couldn't leave him alone at the motel to shop at the nearest pharmacy. But, he didn't want him walking through a store either in his condition. So many things just whizzed in his mind and left him feeling disorientated and unsure.

 

    "Deadn," questioned Sam, bringing Dean out of his daze. "Can we go now? I'b wedt," he confessed as he pulled his drenched sweatshirt around his shoulders and sniffled miserably.   

 

    Dean couldn't blame him. He'd be absolutely miserable too if he was Sam. In fact, he was miserable just as he was and he wasn't sick or had a concussion. He had to snap out of panic mode and back into big brother mode.

 

    "Yeah, I know you are, Sammy. I'm going to get you back to the motel and we're going to fix this," Dean reassured as he pulled out of the graveyard and turned onto the real road. Well, it was a dirt road, but it was better than nothing.

 

    Throughout the trip, Sam's head would drop forward and that would wake himself up. Dean tried to keep talking to him to keep him aware, but it was difficult to have a conversation with someone who rarely talked back. He was trying to get Sam to talk about just about anything to keep him aware. He even tried talking to him about college or about things that Sam was interested in while Dean couldn’t care less about. Unfortunately, even that didn't work.

 

    "Come on, Sam. You have to stay awake and talk to me, okay," Dean asked as he reached out a hand to shake his brother with his other still grasping the steering wheel for dear life.

 

    Sam barely looked up painfully only to snap back down with his chin bouncing off his chest forcefully. "Attchczzz! ATchzzz! Atchxxhzzzz! ATChxhhzzz!"

 

    "Bless you, Sammy," Dean told him as he dug around the center console until he brought up some napkins. He tossed them over with them landing on Sam’s lap. "Here. Use these and blow your nose."

 

    Sam seemed almost confused as to what that meant. He looked up questioningly, eyes blank. He pressed it against the underside of his nose with the side of his hand, breathing loudly as phlegm caught in the back of his throat. He managed to blow gently into the rough napkins, and Dean took that a win no matter how small. It wasn't like he was going to force Sam to clear out his nose fully, who was already feeling pretty poorly, to do something to make his head throb more. He has had a cold with a concussion before and it sucked.

 

    "There you go, Sammy. Almost there," Dean told him as he watched Sam's glazed over eyes traveling all around as if he was struggling to focus on something. "Talk to me. Tell me something."

 

    Sam thought hard, or at least as hard as he could, as he considered what Dean wanted him to say. It just felt like his mind was in a sort of haze, like storm clouds hanging over him. "Whadt did you do whedn I was in college?"

 

    Dean shrugged. That wasn't a difficult question to answer. "Did hunts. What else did you think that I did?"

 

    "Do you hate Dad?"

 

    Dean almost froze. He had no idea that question was going to come out of Sam. Sure, he wanted Sam to talk about anything, but that was crossing the line even for him. He sighed as he watched his little brother's head loll to the side. That was a sign that Sam was starting to fight the concussion and the concussion was winning.

 

    "Sometimes," Dean finally broke in as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "I hated him when I saw the way that he treated you."

 

    Sam lifted his head and sniffed hard. "Be? You haded hib because of be."

 

    "Blow your nose again, sniffly," Dean joked as he grabbed the last of the napkin supply. He tossed them in Sam's lap and Sam gingerly grabbed them. "Yes, though, I did hate him when I saw the way that he treated you. I know that you hated him."

 

    "Nod always," Sam snorted as he blew his nose into the scratchy tissues, biting back a whimper of discomfort.

 

    That made Dean feel a little bit better to know his little brother didn't always hate their father since it often seemed like it. But, Dean also knew how it had been for Sam during this time. Their father was always harder on him since Dean just did whatever he said. Sam wasn't like that. Sam would fight back.

 

    "ATzhxhzzz! ATxhxhzzz! Atchzzzz!"

 

    Dean jumped a bit at the sound of Sam's sneezes. Sam sniffled deeply before he shook his head madly. "Ouch," he grunted.

 

    Dean sighed as he stretched out a hand and rubbed at Sam's shoulder. Sam coughed loudly into the crook of his arm, slumping forward with his head rested almost against Dean's side. Dean moved Sam's hair away from his sweaty forehead, feeling the heat practically pulsating from his little brother’s skin. "It's okay, Sammy. Just relax. We're almost there. We're almost there."

 

    They finally pulled up at the motel and Dean gently roused Sam. "Hey, buddy. Come on, you need to wake up," he whispered gently.

 

    Eventually, Sam's head lifted up with his nose still running freely onto his upper lip. Dean grabbed the last of the napkins that were practically useless and swiped at Sam's nose since Sam seemed almost too out of it to care or notice. Sam sniffed in the after math while Dean parked the car and pulled out the keys from the ignition. "It's alright, Sammy. You ready?"

 

    "Tired," Sam whispered as the two of them headed out of the Impala and into the motel room. Sam almost slumped sideways, but Dean helped him straighten.

 

    "I know that you are, Sammy, but you can't sleep yet. You have to stay awake for as long as you can and I'm going to help you do so," Dean reassured as he helped Sam to the door.

 

    Dean opened the door for his brother and helped Sam to the bed. Sam sat where he was with his eyes barely focusing on anything in front of them. His mouth was partially open and his breathing was uneven. Dean new exactly what was coming and had enough instinct to sidestep.

 

    "ATxhzzzz! Atchczzzz! AtChzzzzz!"

 

    "Bless you, Sammy," Dean exclaimed over his shoulder as he looked around for a box of tissues or something for Sam to use.

 

    Sam moaned as he moved his sleeve from his nose to mop up the slimy residue. His eyes widened as he shook his head in shock. "Deadn!"

 

    Dean turned swiftly and saw blood freely flowing from Sam's nose. Sam looked more than a little bit terrified with round eyes and tears almost falling from them.

 

    Dean came over with a box of tissues and sat down right beside his brother as Sam rubbed at his streaming nose with both of his palms

 

    Dean took a bundle of tissues and held them against the underside of his brother's nose and applied slight pressure to the bridge with his pointer finger and thumb. Sam tried to fight it, but Dean’s grip was firm. He held his brother close even as Sam fought him feebly. "Stop........Stop it, Sam. You're okay. I'm only trying to help you."

 

    "Burns," complained Sam weakly, eyes screwed shut and face scowling.

 

    "I'm sure, but you have to trust me on this. Okay, kiddo?”

 

    Sam's eyes flashed as Dean rubbed roughly at his nose. "You haven'd called be kiddo in forever."

 

    Dean smiled as he hugged Sam closer with his other arm while he continued to rub and pinch at the bridge of Sam's nose at the same time with the other. Once he was sure that Sam's nose was cleared, he pulled his tissue away and threw them in a nearby trashcan. He sighed as he watched Sam rub the dried blood the crusted around his nostrils. He flashed a look up at Dean with his eyes beginning to close.

 

    Dean hit the side of Sam's face, right above his jawline. Sam jolted in surprise and shook his head to clear it.

 

    “Whadt? Whadt,” Sam rasped weakly.

 

    "I know that you’re tired, but I already told you that you can't go to sleep. Not yet at least," Dean chided as he stood and walked over to the small kitchen and started to look around for anything that might be able to keep Sam awake besides the TV since that would probably just make him fall asleep.

 

    Sam swayed back and forth before he threw himself backwards on the bed. He coughed painfully while Dean walked over and nudged him gently. "Hey, Sam. I think I found something that you're going to like."

 

    Sam stayed where he was.

 

    "Come on, Sammy," Dean urged as he grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. Sam finally sat up as he blinked his eyes madly. "I have something that you're going to like."

 

    There was a snuffling noise from Sam as he tilted his head, looking at his brother through watery eyes. "I dond'd feel good."

 

    "I know," Dean repeated. He felt like he was saying that a lot these days since that was all that he could say. "But, I think that I have something that will make it a lot better."

 

    He pulled something from his back pocket and set it in Sam's outstretched hand. Sam looked down and ran his fingers around the rectangular box with fine print on the front. He tilted his head in surprise, looked back up to Dean curiously to find Dean’s eyes alit in mischief. "Cards?"

 

    "Yeah! Who wants to play some Uno?”

 

To Be Continued.....

[Wolfwings22]

And here is the final part. This story was so fun to write with both injury and illness and with Dean taking care of Sam as he always does. Thank you all for reading and I hope you’re staying safe and healthy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    "Go fish!"

 

    "Sam, for the last time it's not Go Fish," complained Dean as he rubbed his fingers against his temples where a distant headache was beginning to surface. "It's Uno! Uno. You know, when you have one card left and you say 'Uno'. No? None of that ringing any bells?”

 

    Sam shook his head as he looked down at the five cards in his hands. He had a blue five, a wild, a yellow one and seven, and a green three. But, Dean had still beaten him almost three times in a row, even though Dean was trying to go easy on him. Sam's brain just couldn't keep up.

 

    "Your turn, Sam. It's either a blue or a nine," Dean told him when Sam started to drift off once more.

 

    Sam looked up to the ceiling, nostrils starting to expand and twitch. He looked like he was caught in a true tug of war with himself and it didn't appear that it was going to end well. Before Dean could even suggest him using the tissue box behind him to catch the resulting spray, Sam's head thrust down into his lifted elbow.

 

    "ATxhxhzzz! AtChzzz! ATchzzzz! ATchchzzzz!"

 

    "Bless you, man," Dean offered as he looked over to his brother. "You done?"

 

    Sam grumbled to himself and pulled another handful of tissues from the box and blew his nose into them. He grumbled to himself as he shook his head to clear it. He laid back and completely discarded his cards, muttering to himself as he pulled at his nose with his thumb and pointer finger aggressively.

 

    Dean leaned forward and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder, card game forgotten. "Hey, look at me," chided Dean gently as he tried to pull at Sam a bit so that he would sit up straighter.

 

    Sam reluctantly was pulled forward and sat up, snuffling loudly, flinching when he looked into his brother's eyes. "Whadt?"

 

    "Just wanted to see if you were still with me," answered Dean as he tapped at Sam's forehead, which elicited a frown from his brother. "And wanted to ask if you still wanted to get some sleep?

 

    Sam brightened at that. He didn't dare nod, but he looked at his brother with pleading in his eyes. "Yes, yes," he urged as he let out a small cough. "Please."

 

    "I just don't want something to happen while you're asleep," Dean pointed out. He knew how dangerous concussions would be. He had had numerous, as had Sam. The more concussions you received, the worse you were off. He just hated the not knowing about it all. Sam could be fine or he might not be.

 

    Sam thought hard and struggled to scramble to his feet. He staggered sideways and almost collided with the bed. Dean helped him sit up before Sam crashed on the bed in an exhausted heap. He closed his eyes only for them to open back up to peer at his brother. "Stay here," he pleaded hoarsely as he looked at the foot of the bed.

 

    Dean smiled. He would never have wanted to force it on Sam since Sam was a little all over the place with a raging fever and a concussion to think straight. But, being with Sam, right beside him to protect him, just made Dean feel just a little better about the whole situation, even if Sam probably wouldn't remember this in a few days.

 

    "Alright, Sammy," Dean told him as he helped Sam out of his sweatshirt with Sam shivering in the aftermath. He helped his little brother under the covers and Sam immediately started to cough.

 

    Dean grabbed a pillow and set it behind him as he helped him be propped up to help open up Sam’s airways. "Breathe. Breathe," chided Dean as he rubbed at Sam's back.

 

    Sam swallowed his latest coughing fit and rubbed a tired fist against his eyes. He then rubbed at the sides of his nose and Dean stretched out his hand to stop him from scratching. "Hey, what are you doing?"

 

    "Itchy."

 

    "Yeah, I can tell," joked Dean as he rubbed a hand through Sam's hair in an effort to massage his scalp. He then turned and grabbed the tissue box and set it on Sam's lap. "Here. Blowing your nose sometimes helps with the itch.”

 

    There was a slight growl from Sam before he pressed the tissues against his nose and blew only halfheartedly. Once he was finished, he shook his head and continued to grab his nose with feeble grasps. He growled to himself almost in anger as he looked over to Dean, eyes watering and breath starting to hitch.

 

    "Deadn," complained Sam as his nostrils twitched. He suddenly buckled forward and just barely managed to save Dean from the resulting spray. "ATchchzzz! Atchzzzzz! ATchzzzzz!"

 

    "Bless you," Dean began as he quickly pulled out a few tissues and pushed them against his brother’s still twitching nostrils. "Here. Blow."

 

    Sam reluctantly did so again before he leaned back against the small mound of pillows. He kicked out his legs slightly in frustration, angrily looking to Dean as though his brother held all the answers. "This sugs."

 

    "You mean sucks," he asked as he nudged a hand against Sam's body. "Scoot over!"

 

    Sam did so a bit reluctantly. Once he was on the other end of the bed, Dean leaned forward and laid right beside Sam on top of the covers. Sam looked at him while Dean wrapped an arm around his little brother’s shoulders and pulled him closer. "Just relax, little brother," Dean whispered, giving Sam a small and comforting squeeze.

 

    "By head hurts," announced Sam as if it was't obvious. "And by chest, and dose, and—“

 

    "And pretty much everything else," broke in Dean as he tapped the tip of Sam's nose playfully. "I'm sure that everything hurts and it sucks, but at least you have me, right?"

 

    "Did Dad dake care of you whedn you were sick," asked Sam as he sniffed powerfully to clear his sinuses enough for him to speak.

 

    Dean had no idea where all this conversation about their father was coming from. Sam never cared this much about him before. In fact, neither brother did. Sure, they had gotten used to sometimes having him around, but love wasn't an emotion that wasn’t often expressed towards them from John. Their father was not an affectionate guy and really didn't care if you were sick or not; hunting always came first since there were always other lives to save. However, if this was what Sam wanted to talk about then Dean wouldn't argue it.

 

    "No, Sammy. That was your job, huh? Just like taking care of you was mine," he pointed out, fighting to keep any bitterness for their father out of his voice.

 

    Sam looked absolutely crestfallen. He sniffed hard as he leaned against his brother and coughed heavily, whole body shaking weakly.

 

    Dean rubbed his back once more as he tried to calm him down. "I'b sorry I left."

 

    "It's alright, Sammy. It wasn't your fault. You had to leave, I know that," reassured Dean as he watched Sam snuggle into him. "It's okay, it's alright. Just get some rest and you'll feel better in the morning. In fact, you probably won't remember this in the morning."

 

    Sam rubbed his head against the crook of Dean's neck with his loud snores filling Dean's ears in no time flat. Dean sighed as he stayed up as long as he could just to make sure that Sam was okay before he leaned against his Sasquatch of a brother and fell asleep, knowing that for the time being that Sam wasn't going anywhere.

 

The End