Sam's throat itched but he suppressed the coughs. Eventually he opened his mouth to breathe in, which was a bad idea because that started a long and painful bout of coughing. He covered his mouth with his hands so that Dean wouldn't hear, but it was too late; Dean was knocking on the door asking if he was ok.
"Dean, I'm fine, go away," Sam said, wiping his mouth, pulling his hand back to find it covered with blood.
"I'm just worried about you, you're still weak from the trials, Sam. I'll go make you some soup!"
Sam sighed. There was no getting rid of Dean trying to take care of him. But he didn't want to be a burden on Dean. He went to the bathroom to wash the blood he had coughed up off his hands.
He almost didn't recognize the gaunt, hollowed face that looked back at him from the mirror. Although his hair was fabulous as ever. Suddenly his nose tingled. He stared into the light so that he could sneeze. The force of the sneeze rocked through his body and he felt faint and had to sit down on the edge of the bathtub. But then he had to sneeze again.
This sneeze was more powerful than the first. He couldn't stop the snot from shooting out of his nostrils, splattering all over the sink, floor and mirror.
Sam proceeded to blow his nose loudly and wetly before mopping up the mess he had made. Those sneezes had taken a toll on Sam's 6 foot 4 body and he had to sit down and catch his breath before presenting himself to his brother.
15 minutes later he felt strong enough to walk to the living room. Dean was in the kitchen in his flower apron cooking chicken noodle soup. He used to make it when they were kids and Sam was sick.
Dean saw how tired Sam looked but didn't say anything and instead brought him a bowl of steaming homemade soup.
"Actually I'm not that hungry," said Sam. The smell of the liquid and the sight of the floating clumps of meat and noodles had made him nauseous.
"EAT THE MOTHERFUCKING SOUP SAM OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL FORCE FEED YOU," said Dean.
"Bitch," Sam muttered.
"You've hardly eaten in days, you're losing too much weight," said Dean.
Sam couldn't say no to his big brother and proceeded to eat the soup. However, his hand was shaking so much that the soup fell off the spoon before it got to his mouth.
Dean was at Sam's side instantly. "Here, let me do that." He took the spoon from Sam's trembling hand, cupped Sam's soft head in his other hand and brought the spoon to his mouth.
Sam wanted to say, "Dean I'm fine, this isn't necessary, please go away," but he just didn't have the strength. It was all he could do to sit up straight and not lean against his brother for support.
"Open wide Sammy." Dean inserted the spoon with such accuracy, just the way he likes to insert other things into that hot, wet mouth.
Sam dutifully swallowed everything Dean put in his mouth because he didn't want to look weak in front of his brother and have him worry even more.
"Good job, brother!" Said Dean when the bowl was empty. "Let's have a beer."
The alcohol only added to Moose's nausea. He tried to make it to the bathroom,
but his weakened body collapsed on the floor and he heaved out buckets of puke.
Dean rubbed small circles on his brother's back while he threw up the soup he
had so lovingly prepared for him. What a waste, thought Dean.
When Sam was finished throwing up, Dean dragged him to his bed, took off his
clothes (except for his SAXX boxer briefs) and tucked him in. Then he assisted Sam
in drinking 3 sips of cool water through a straw. Dean's bedside manner was
outstanding.
"I'm sorry, Dean," said Sam. His voice was nothing more than a hoarse mumble. (croak+mumble=crumble?)
"Hey it's ok buddy," said Dean . "I'll take care of ya." He squeezed his big
brother's giant hand.
Suddenly Sam's eyes rolled back and he started seizing.
Oh shit, thought Dean. This hasn't happened before. I should really call an ambulance.
He held his brother down and breathed a sigh of relief when the twitching stopped. He pushed luscious strands of hair out of his brother's face and kissed his forehead, hoping he would awaken. But he didn't.
"Sam!" Dean yelled and slapped his white limp face. He put two fingers to his brother's neck. Nothing. Panicking, he checked his wrist, groin and armpit. Still nothing. His lips were turning blue, he wasn't breathing.
"Sam!"