The day was cooler than the ordinary December day in South Carolina. Sam and Dean were lying against the cold windshield, cupping beer cans in their hands. Sam was staring at the group of younger kids playing football in the crisp air, his breath releasing little puffs of smoke. Dean was staring at the setting sun, the temperature dropping literally a couple of degrees an hour. As the sun finally fell behind the tree line Dean smacked Sam on the thigh and let out a loud sigh.

"Well, enough of this just waiting around, we need to go find a motel and we need to get researching." Dean rose from his current position and chugged the last bit of beer. He proceeded to crunch his can under his foot in the ground and leave it there.

"Do you have to litter everywhere we go?" Sam chuckled to himself picking up the crushed can. "I mean, we can have respect for at least one state we go to." He looked around for a moment and upon finding a trash can, chucked them in. He shrugged his shoulders at his brother who was leaning on his open door driver side door.

"Ok you activist, can we just get a move on already?" Dean chuckled to himself. He stood secretly admiring his little brother. Sam climbed into the Impala and a very obvious shiver drove through his body. "You cold?" Dean asked in a passing glance, "Because by all means Nancy, I can turn on the heat, you can even have my jacket if you want." Dean let out a little smirk. Sam just sarcastically chuckled.

"You're a jerk." Sam managed to get out.

"And you're such a bitch." Dean counteracted quickly. He turned on the roaring engine, and they made their way down the now deserted highway.

The motel wasn't as run down as most of the ones they stayed in. It didn't have the scary looking air conditioning unit hanging shabbily out of the window, and the blinds actually closed.

"Hey Sam, did you know we are only an hour away from a beach?" Dean asked as he picked up the schedule for the shows on HBO.

"Yes Dean, I told you that like…" Sam glanced down at his watch, "twenty minutes ago." Sam sighed, his laptop opened in front of him. The fresh cup of coffee steaming from its place on the edge of the table, Sam reaches for it.

"Dude, didn't you just have a cup of coffee like, thirty minutes ago?" Dean asked finally putting down the TV schedule.

"Well yeah, when you have a job like ours you kind of have to keep the coffee pot on wherever we go." Sam laughed it off as he clicked on a link talking about the possessions that have been going on lately. Dean slowly walked over to his side and gave him one of the famous "I-don't-believe-what-you-are-saying" looks Dean is so good at giving. Sam noticed right away. "Dean, come on man, I'm fine, I am just a little tired."

"A little tired Sammy, well, I mean with you a little tired could mean something as harmless as a cold or it could mean you are dying." Dean tried to laugh it off, but even he knew in the joke there was truth. "Maybe you should just lay down for a bit, I mean the case will still be here in a few hours. I mean, you have barely had any you time, and usually I am the poster boy for staying up and getting things done. But you need to take care of yourself." Dean finished his little rant and stared at Sam who looked like he was on the verge of agreeing.

"I will sleep Dean…" Sam began, but then turned back to his computer. "But once this case is done." Sam concluded, clicking on another link.

"You know what…" Dean angrily grunted as he stalked over and slammed the screen down on the computer. "I am tired of the attitude. You are no use to me all burnt out." Sam's face was twisted with a mix between confusion and anger. But it soon melted away into a yawn. He rose from his chair, pushed it under the small round table and walked over to his bed. He flopped down and put his hands underneath his pillows and his head.

"You're right." Sam finally breathed out. Dean almost jumped when he whispered those words.

"Sam, you're sure you're ok?" Dean asked. But Sam was already in a deep sleep, not in the condition to answer to anyone. Dean shrugged it off and walked over to the light shutting it off quietly. First time in a long time he has agreed with me without putting up a fight. Dean thought to himself quickly. He climbed under his own covers and stared for a minute at the lump in the other bed. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into oblivion.

The next morning Dean rose when the sunlight began to come through the blinds. He slowly realized that the giant lump in the other bed has disappeared. He shot up out of his bed.

"Sammy?" He called loudly, noticing the light illuminating from under the bathroom door. He approached it quickly knocking.

"One minute" he heard the familiar husky voice call back to him. Dean sighed a loud sigh of relief. Sam proceeded to open the door and turn on the faucet. Dean just stood there looking confused. "Do you have to go to the bathroom" Sam began moving out of the tiny closet like room.

"Um no, I just like to irritate you." Dean chuckled as he moved over to his bed. "So what time did you get up?" He carefully watched Sam's response, looking for a twitch to signal him lying.

"Uh, about four I think." Sam lied, because he had never really fallen asleep. He was just lying there, pondering why his body was so tired, and yet his eyes wouldn't fall down. Just closing them for moments of piece, Dean sighed loudly and this made Sam drop on the bed across from him, their knees almost touching. "What?" Sam practically asked with the sarcastic under bite.

"Nothing Sam, I am just wondering, if maybe you could tell me the combined hours you have slept in lets say, the last week or so. Oh, and this time, don't lie." Dean finished, his voice rising with every word. Sam was taken aback. He sat for a moment while Dean rose from where he was sitting. "I just," Dean began, but soon stopped himself.

"You can't what Dean?" Sam asked practically yelling. He began to stand up, but before he knew it, he felt a light feeling in his head and the black dots invaded his vision. No. Sam whispered to himself as his face came closer and closer to the floor. He hit his shoulder on the bed, turning him at the right angle so his face wasn't the first thing to hit the floor, the back of his shoulder was. Sam heard Dean's footsteps reach his side in record time.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, as he began shaking the limp man. "Sammy?" Dean called again, louder this time. Sam knew he was yelling, he could hear it, but his entire body felt too weak, too tired to respond. He let out a grunt in response. Dean let out a loud sigh as he flopped back against the bed. "This is the kind of thing that happens when you don't get enough sleep." Dean scolded, pushing Sam's shoulder lightly. But upon Sam not really responding, Dean's brother instincts kicked in. He rose to his feet and went around so he could see Sam's face clearly. "Sam?" Dean asked when he saw Sam's eyes were closed tight. Sam grunted again, but this time it sounded like he was in pain. "Man come on, get up." Dean chuckled half heartedly.

"I can't" managed Sam. To much of Dean's horror a tear fell from Sam's eye.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"My body," Sam began, but he had to take a minute to breathe, "It is just to tired to function." Sam finished letting out a loud drawn out sigh against the gross motel carpeting.

"Well, the only thing we can do is get you up right?" Dean asked as he anchored his arms under Sam's. "I just have to get you on the bed, then you can rest, we can take a few days and just kind of chill for now." Dean concluded, lifting the heavy limp man off of the floor.

"But Dean, we have a case that can't wait." Sam interjected in a small child like way. Dean just shook his head as he began moving the body up the bed.

"You can't right now. Your body is just too worn out right now, Tagger will understand. I mean dad was like a brother to him, making us his nephews, if one of us is sick, as family, he will HAVE to understand." Dean sighed to himself as he knew that didn't even really make sense to him. If you were sick during a hunt, you bore through it and waited to treat it until the job was done, or until you were dead.

"Dean…" Sam began but Dean held up his hand,

"I don't want an argument Sam, you're sick, and I am going to take care of you first, you come first, some haunting will be there when you get better ok?" Dean wasn't exactly yelling, he was being stern to get his point across to Sam. The only way he knew how, to play the rough brother role. Sam just lay back on his pillows slowly but surely settling himself in. Dean walked over to the blinds and pulled them extra closed; he grabbed his car keys off of the small round table by Sam's computer and glanced back at the large figure tucked in under the blankets. "I'm going to pick some things up at the store around the corner." Dean yelled to him. But Sam was too warm, too into the moment of being tired to listen to him.

Dean fired up the impala and sat for a minute, thinking about everything he and Sam had been through. Why does he feel the need to lie to me? Dean asked himself, slamming his hands hard on the steering wheel. He rubbed his calloused hands down his chiseled face. I have to get him some things from the drug store, and maybe find a way to a bar on the way home. Dean smiled to himself at the thought of the true blue southern girl moving around him. He backed out of his space and he began down the long dirt road that led back to the highway.

"Blythewood man." Dean scowled to himself as he began the long winding tree way to civilization. The trip took a total of thirty minutes to reach the nearest pharmacy. He walked straight for the twenty four hour medicine service counter, and rung the bright yellow bell. "Anyone here" He called.

"Hold on for a minute" a womanly southern drawl came from the back room. Dean looked in the little reflective mirror on the counter top and fixed his hair, making sure the spike was perfect. A woman with bright blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun with the brightest blue eyes made her appearance from around the corner. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a light pink top. "Now, may I help you?" She asked, her voice a little irritated. Dean was taken aback and he gave her a shocked look. "Well are you going to stand there all day with that stupid look on your face or are you going to tell me what you want?" She asked. Dean just shook himself out of the fantasy world he drew this girl into.

"Yeah" he cleared his throat, "my brother, he uh, he is sick. Sleeping a lot, and today well he passed out." Dean concluded the girl had her clipboard out. But when he mentioned him passing out she practically rolled her eyes up to him.

"He passed out? Now, do you mean, he fainted and was awake for the entire thing, or he woke up and didn't remember anything?" She asked the clipboard now at her side. She was clicking her pen continuously.

"Um, I would have to say that he fell, but he was awake, he remembered it." Dean shuffled his feet uncomfortably. The woman sighed loudly and turned around to look at the shelf.

"Well, with this brother of yours loosing consciousness, I would have to say that you might want him to get checked out by a proper physician, but until then, we are going to give him some Tylenol, and keep him hydrated. Has he been throwing up?" She asked Dean. He just shook his head.

"I actually have no idea." Dean admitted blowing air out of his mouth. He noticed the girl was loosening up a little, she seemed concerned.

"You need to get back to where you are staying and make sure he didn't hit his head or anything. The first signs of a concussion, I am recommending you take him to the closest ER in Columbia, about twenty minutes away." The girl sighed; she turned around and grabbed a box of Tylenol and a bottle of Pediasure and handed them both to Dean. He took them gratefully and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I wouldn't think of it honey." She smiled at him lightly. "You need to get back and take care of your brother." She leaned over the counter and clicked her pen again, writing her number on the box of pills. "Call me if you have any questions." Dean smiled and nodded his head.

"Thanks and by the way…" Dean leaned over and read her nametag, "Loren, it was really nice meeting you." He turned on his heels and clicked his tongue, knowing that he still had it.

Sam was lying in the bed he felt his stomach twisting in knots again, and knowing he was alone, he could finally run to the bathroom without the fear of Dean hearing him. He threw the covers off of the bed and his feet hit the floor. A painful white hot burning shot through his calf muscles as soon as his feet hit the floor. Like his arms when he threw off the blanket, he now felt like he had just run a marathon and his muscles were going through fatigue. He was breathing heavy trying to keep the nausea to a minimum. But knowing it was coming up anyway he grabbed the trash can and dangled his head over it. If I can't make it to the bathroom, I will just have to stay here and get it cleaned up before Dean gets back. Sam thought to himself. Just then the entire contents of his stomach (which wasn't much) got expelled from his body and mostly into the trash can. Don't worry, you will be ok. His body was racked with shivers and he could no longer really feel his legs. How will I get this trash out? He thought to himself, but, he knew there was no chance in hell of that happening. He could barely pull himself back to a sitting position, and he still had to slide back under the covers, thinking about it made him tired. Sam glanced at the clock and it read eleven thirty. Well Dean should be home anytime now, I mean it is barely the middle of the day, which is too early for even my big brother to go bar hopping and picking up chicks. Sam thought to himself to almost distract himself from the task at hand. Like he pulled up on que, Sam heard the roar of the engine and the squeaky driver side door as his big brother exited it. He heard the key clanging in the door, and he heard a light gasp as Dean had seen his brother huddled over a trash can.

"Dean" Sam croaked.

"Sammy?" Dean practically yelled, he dropped whatever was in his hands on the floor. He rushed to his brother's side and saw the puke all over the front of his shirt and the floor, barely any in the trash can. "Okay Sam." Dean soothed his brother who was still shaking. "Let's get you to the bathroom." Dean quietly told Sam, he put his hands under Sam's armpits and practically lifted him off of the bed. Sam had to use everything in him to make it the three steps to the bathroom door. "I am going to get you a shirt, just sit on the toilet." Dean ordered Sam who limped over and sat down. Sam was beginning to feel himself falling asleep sitting there. The sound of the zipper on the bag and the rustling of fresh clothes made Sam soothed. The fact that his brother was here to take care of him made Sam very happy. He let out a small smile just as Dean came through the door. "Do you need help changing...?" Dean faded out, "or do you have this?" He finally croaked out through the obvious embarrassment.

"I can do it" Sam slowly said. He began to pull of his shirt slowly. Dean exited the bathroom and pulled the door closed. He walked over to the phone and called the front desk.

"Can I get some bleach based cleaner for the carpet in here?" Dean asked the man, the man agreed and he shouted at a cleaning lady to get to the room immediately. Sam opened the door slowly and was leaning against the door frame. Dean was just now noticing how thin Sam had gotten, like his entire muscle mass had just dropped off and he had no fat to his name. "Sam, how much have you been eating?" Dean asked him.

"Please don't mention food right now." Sam slowly slurred out. "I am just really tired, and I need to sleep." He began to make his way back to the bed.

"No" Dean said as he walked over to intercept Sam. "You are going to be sleeping in my bed until I can get this all cleaned up, I can't have you smelling that and barfing again." Dean guided the tired man over to the other bed and tucked him in tightly; just enough so Sam could turn over on his side facing the second trash can from the bathroom. There was a light knock on the door just as Dean finished taking care of Sam, it was the maid with the cleaner, he opened the door. She handed him the bottle and hurried away.

Dean spent the next hour cleaning all the throw up off of the floor and off of the side of the trash can. Anything to help you Sam, anything. Dean thought to himself as he looked over at the big lump under the covers.