Disclaimer: I don't any of this wonderful show or its characters.

"Well, that went well."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure your definition of 'well' is a little off."

"Whatever, Mud Boy. I call first shower!"

"Whatever makes you happy, dude."

Sam started stripping off as much of his mud-soaked clothes as he could while Dean took a shower. He even pulled a plastic grocery bag from somewhere to put it all in.

Despite all appearances, Dean didn't really take very long in the shower. Sam only had to wait about ten minutes after he had peeled off his clothes before Dean came out of the bathroom. By this time, Sam, who was still in his drenched t-shirt and jeans was still shivering. Dean was slightly alarmed by how hard his brother was shaking. He was glad now that he had decided against purposefully using all the hot water.

As Sam got in the shower, Dean pulled on sweats and a t-shirt. Normally he would just fall into bed with his clothes still on, but for some reason, tonight he felt like putting on something more comfortable. Then he plopped down on the bed closest to the door and fell asleep.

When Sam got out of the shower, Dean was already asleep. That was good, because Sam still hadn't stopped shivering. The cold seemed stuck inside him, and Sam knew all about what that felt like. So, Sam grabbed the spare blanket out of the closet and put on socks with his sweats and t-shirt before going to bed.

The next morning, Dean woke up first. It had been too long since he had woken up to anything other than Sam on the laptop, having missed another night of sleep. Dean decide to take a leisure day; the room was already paid for. They hadn't known how long the hunt was going to take, so they'd come up with enough cash to get a room for the whole week, and they still had several days left. So, he went out for coffee, getting one for him and one for Sam. Although, Sam had had enough coffee in the past week alone for a lifetime.

When he got back, stopping to grab breakfast on the way, it was almost ten o'clock. Therefore, he was rather surprised when Sam was still asleep when he walked through the door. Dean quietly put the food down on the table and went over to Sam's bed. Sam was buried under the covers in a ball as tiny as someone his size could manage. When Dean pulled the covers back just enough to see Sam's face, it revealed a flushed and shaking brother.

"Sam? Time to get up," Dean called gently. All the signs were pointing to a sick little brother, but Dean didn't want to jump to conclusions. Sam just grunted and tried to pull the covers back over his head. Dean decided to let him go back to sleep. He hadn't been disproved in his suspicion of illness, but he didn't really have confirmation, either. Besides, what else was a leisure day for?

Dean are his breakfast after putting Sam's share in the fridge. Then he puttered about on Sam's laptop for a while before getting bored of that too. So, Dean decided to do something he hadn't done in a long time: take a nap.

Dean's nap was wonderful. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so rested. But, when he looked over and realized that Sam still hadn't moved from the position of this morning, his concern returned. This time, Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Sam, time to get up, man."

Dean gently shook Sam, hoping that he would get a grumbled response telling him to go away that would assure him that Sam was just choosing to continue catching up on sleep. Instead, he got a moaned, "Dean".

Dean's heart sank even as he answered, "Yeah, Sammy?"

" 'm cold."

Dean looked down at his brother, completely covered in several blankets, and sighed.

"Really Sammy?" though his tone held nothing but sympathy. "Leave it to you to get a fever on our first job back in the game."

To Dean's surprise, he got a reply.

"N't my fault," Sam slurred, "no…sleep…weakens immune system."

"Yeah well, think you can swallow some Tylenol?"

" 'ink so."

"Alright, be right back."

Dean went into the bathroom and dug the bottle out of their toiletry bag. In five seconds flat he was back next to Sam with two pills and a plastic cup of water. Sam swallowed the pills and Dean made him drink all the water. Then, Sam went back to sleep.

Dean decided that since Sam was going to be fine for the next few hours, he was going to make some more money at the local bar.

There were a lot of suckers out that night. Apparently the local favorite football team had just lost badly to their rival, bringing the stupid out in droves. By the time Dean called it a night, he had a couple thousand dollars more in his pockets. However, when he looked at his watch, he realized that he was supposed to have gotten back to the hotel, back to Sam, hours ago.

Satisfaction forgotten, Dean floored the gas pedal on his beloved baby, worry for his baby brother his only thought. When Dean initially walked through the door, he let out a huff of relief. Sam was still in the bed where Dean left him, and the room looked the same. However, when he went over to check on Sam, he realized that everything wasn't as peachy as it had seemed initially.

Sam's face was flushed, and his lips were parted slightly as he panted for breath. When Dean put his hand on Sam's cheek, he was startled by the heat radiating off him. Dean went to the bathroom and dug out two more Tylenol and refilled the plastic cup with water. Then he went back out into the room.

"Hey Sammy," he called gently. "I need you to wake up for me, dude."

It took a minute, but eventually Sam's eyes fluttered open, glassy and bright with fever.

"D'n?"

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need you to swallow these for me. Think you can do that?"

"Yeah."

Sam started to push himself up into a sitting position, but his arms seemed to give out on him, and he fell back into the pillow.

"Here," Dean said, then proceeded to prop Sam up against the headboard.

Sam threw him a sheepish smile.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now here, take these."

Sam obediently took the pills, draining the cup of water.

"So," Dean said, "how are you feeling?"

"Not super. How much longer do we have this room?"

"As long as you need."

"Dean…"

"I mean it, Sam. I made some serious cash tonight."

At that, Sam relaxed.

"Oh, okay."

"Anything I should know about besides the obvious fever?" Dean asked.

"No, I don't think so," Sam replied.

"Alright. I'm gonna leave water on the nightstand. You stay hydrated, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean could see Sam's eyelids drooping.

"Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll wake you up when it's time for more medicine."

Sam didn't reply, just laid down and closed his eyes. Looking at the clock and discovering it was two a.m., Dean decided to go to sleep as well. Within ten minutes, both brothers were fast asleep.

Dean was startled awake to the sound of his name. He looked over to Sam's bed and saw his brother all tangled up in the covers, obviously having a nightmare. Sighing, Dean got up and went over to wake him up.

"Sam," he called. Sam didn't seem to hear him. "Sammy, you gotta snap out of it, man," Dean tried again, shaking the younger man as he did so. Nothing. Dean put his hand on the youngest's forehead. As he suspected, Sam was burning up. Well, if he wouldn't wake up to take medicine, then Dean was going to have to get his temperature down some other way.

Dean eventually ended up getting a bucket of ice from the ice machine and adding it to the coldest water he could get from the faucet in the coffee pot. Then he dipped a washcloth in the pot and used that to bring the fever down.

After too long, it finally worked. Sam settled back down, and Dean finally relaxed. Mental note: set an alarm to make sure Sam gets his medicine on time. At this point, though, his fever was down, and Dean hated to wake him up. Looking at the clock, he saw it was about four a.m. Dean decided to get two more hours, then wake up Sam. Setting an alarm, Dean went back to bed and fell asleep facing his brother.

Dean woke up gradually to Sam's voice. He vaguely wondered who he was talking to. Then he remembered, and his eyes immediately shot to the clock: ten a.m. What?! Dean looked over to his brother, who was still in his bed, talking about something, completely out of it. Seconds later, Dean was out of bed, standing by his brother.

"Stop. You don't want him. He doesn't even understand what's going on."

Dean recognized that tone. Sam was bringing unwanted attention to himself to protect someone else. Given the exact tone, Dean would say Sam was completely terrified. He didn't have time to wonder what delusion Sam was in; he had to snap him out of it.

"Sam, hey, Sammy, I need you to wake up. Come on, snap out of it!"

"No, you can't do that, do anything, be anyone, but him!"

Dean realized that Sam thought he was back in the Cage.

"Hey, Sam, you're out! We got you out. Just wake up, kiddo."

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder, trying to get him back in reality.

"No! You're lying. You can torture me all you want, but I won't let you do this to me! Dean's happy with Lisa and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Dean's heart sank. It looked like this was going to be a long day. The pain in his brother's voice was killing him, every sense he had was screaming at him to step in and fix it. But, he couldn't fix his brother's head, as had been demonstrated quite enough in the previous months.

"Heyheyhey, calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you."

This seemed to work, at least a little. Sam calmed down, but he still hadn't snapped out of it. Dean went to get more cold water from the bathroom. When he got back, Sam was still in the bed. However, from his unfocused gaze, Dean could tell that his brother was still in his own version of reality. But, when Dean placed the cold washcloth on Sam's forehead, the younger Winchester reacted immediately, pulling himself into a ball and whimpering quietly. This continued all day, until about nine o'clock that night.

"Dean?"

"Sammy?"

"What time is it?"

"About nine in the evening, Thursday."

"Wait, last I remember, it was Wednesday night."

"Yeah, you've been out of it for a while. Took me all day just to get your fever down enough for you to be lucid. Which reminds me, take these."

Dean held out two Tylenol. Sam dry swallowed them without thinking twice.

"Oh no you don't, drink this," said Dean, handing him a bottle of water. "Your fever has been too high for too long. You want anything to eat?"

"What is there?"

"Well, there's not much in the room, but there's a supermarket across the street and a couple restaurants nearby."

"Uh…soup sounds good. Maybe tomato?"

"Sure," Dean said, looking relieved. "I'll go grab some and be right back."

"Okay," said Sam, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on the TV.

When Dean got back, Sam was watching some documentary on cats. His fever was still down, so Dean went to heat up the soup that he bought on the stove. Sam made a tolerable effort to eat it, leaving about a fourth left in the bowl. By the time the documentary was over, Sam had fallen asleep again. He looked so young, so peaceful, that Dean hated to wake him up for Tylenol. He decided to wait; the bottle said four to six hours, and it had only been four. Then…Dean fell asleep. The next morning, he woke up with an entirely new problem.

"Sam?! Sammy!"

Sam didn't respond, didn't even twitch. This really wasn't good. Given that his temperature wasn't going down, and he had been out for far too long. This wasn't 'sleep to get better' type of out, this was 'unconscious because my brain is about to fry' type of out. At this point, Dean would even take the delirious ravings from before over this unnatural silence. There was only one thing left to do.

Sam came to violently, startling Dean. Ice baths didn't occur often in their lives, but, given their livelihood, just about every type of First Aid had been applied at some point in time. Sam had never been violent coming out of an ice bath. Startled, usually. Resigned, once or twice. But coming out fists swinging? That was new. Dean backed off until the initial onslaught was over before stepping in with a towel. For now, adrenaline was keeping Sam on his feet. Dean knew that that wouldn't last long. So, before he had to pick up his oversized little brother off the floor, Dean took advantage of Sam's temporary confusion and got him sitting on Dean's bed. Dean was planning on cleaning up the sweat-soaked bed on the other side of the room. However his plans were instantly postponed when Sam started talking.

"He wasn't kidding."

Dean sat down next to his brother, listening and half wondering if Sam was delusional again.

"When he said he burned cold, he wasn't kidding. He would set me on fire, it was sort of the 'in between' stage of torture. But it burned cold, Dean. I started wishing that he would actually set me on fire, just so I could remember what heat felt like."

Dean felt a hole open up in his heart. Sam hadn't been talking about the Cage, and Dean hadn't pushed. Now he had inadvertently brought all those memories right back to the front at the worst possible time. Sam's fever still hadn't broken, so as it climbed again, reality and memory became increasingly more likely to blend. Now those memories were the top candidates for Sam's new reality. Putting his hand up to Sam's cheek, he relaxed a little at the reduced heat, but he knew that it was a temporary solution at best. And another ice bath was completely out of the question. In fact, if Dean had his way, Sam would never be exposed to temperatures below seventy degrees ever again.

Dean could tell that Sam was fighting to stay awake, so he quickly got Sam into dry sweats and a t-shirt with ease borne of experience before he helped his little brother lay down. Sam was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Dean pondered what Sam had told him as he stripped the disgusting bed that Sam had been occupying since the fever set in. Sam still remembered his time in the Cage, obviously. Whatever Cas had done to banish the hallucinations of Lucifer and allow him to sleep left the memories intact. Dean thought back to when he had returned from Hell. Boy, had he been messed up. He still hadn't fully recovered from that, and it was so long ago it felt like a lifetime.

Sam had been in a cage with the inventor of demons for over four times as long as Dean had been under, with no offers, no hope of getting it to stop. Dean shuddered, horrified by the picture his mind was painting. His baby brother being tortured to that extent made him want to lock him away and never let him out his sight ever again.

Dean looked down and realized that while he was lost in thought, he had completely remade Sam's bed. Just then, Sam's voice came from behind him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Did you get the plates of the truck that hit me?"

Dean doesn't smile.

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"No, Sam! This is the first time you've been coherent in two days! Excuse me if I don't find it a joking matter!"

Sam fell silent. This wasn't like Dean at all. Discreetly under the covers, he pressed down on the cut on his hand hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, but Dean stayed right where he was, didn't even flicker. That didn't mean a whole lost, though. Lucifer had quit responding to that trick, so if this was him messing with him, then this illusion wouldn't either. So, Sam employed his old tactic. Sam rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be set on fire or screamed at. He waited for Dean to come back and ground him in reality.

Dean realized what he had done as soon as Sam turned his back to him. He berated himself mentally as he sat down on the bed he just made, the exhaustion caused by stress catching up with him.

When Dean woke up, he automatically looked over to his brother's bed. Sam was still there, but it was obvious that his fever had risen again. Dean cursed himself for falling asleep. He took the thermometer and stuck it in Sam's mouth. His worry increased when Sam didn't react at all. The thermometer beeped, and Dean's heart sank. 104.3 wasn't good. Suddenly, Sam tensed up, his breathing picking up until he was heaving sobbing breaths. Dean instinctively know that Sam had just returned to the Cage. Well, Sam said there was no warmth in the Cage? Dean couldn't control what the fever was making Sam feel, but there was something he could do. Dean slowly worked his way into his brother's bed, not wanting to startle him awake. Finally, Dean was under the covers with Sam's head on his chest, just like when they were kids. He ran his fingers through Sam's impossibly long hair. You always did hate haircuts, didn't you, kiddo? Eventually Sam started to relax, and his breathing calmed down. "That's it, kiddo," Dean said. "Now I just need to bring your fever down."

Dean reached over to the bowl of now cool water that he had placed on the nightstand in anticipation of this scenario. He squeezed out the rag and ran it over Sam's face. Sam shifted, but otherwise he didn't react. Dean repeated the process until his arm felt like he had been grave digging all night. Just when he started thinking about stopping, Sam stirred. "Sam? Hey, Sammy? Can you open your eyes for me bro? Come on, just open your eyes."

Sam's eyes cracked open, but when he caught sight of Dean, he started and tried to move away from him.

"Heyheyhey, calm down. It's me. It's me, Dean, your awesome brother. You've had a fever for a while now, been trying to keep you from frying your own brain, dude."

As Dean talked, Sam stopped struggling.

"I-it's really you?"

Sam's voice was weak and scared. It took Dean back to the days right after Sammy had discovered what Dad really did. The poor kid had been terrified to be alone, even for a second. Sam sounded like that now, needing his big brother to reassure him that nothing could get him. Dean was determined to be there for him, despite his slip-up earlier. "Yeah, it's me."

"Where'd you go?"

Now Dean was confused.

"Go? I didn't go anywhere. I've been right there the whole time."

Dean felt Sam's forehead and was met with blessed coolness.

"Go back to sleep, dude. Your fever's broken, you deserve it."

Sam's eyes closed almost involuntarily, and his breathing evened out. Dean stayed right where he was, and eventually he too fell asleep.

When Sam woke up, he was surprised to find himself using Dean's chest as a pillow. He hadn't done that since he was seven years old. As he looked around the room, he began to remember what had happened. The bowl of water on the nightstand with a rag in it triggered the recollection that he had had a fever. The sopping pile of clothes brought up a fuzzy, half-formed memory of an ice bath. And with that memory, all of the nightmares and memories of the Cage came flooding through. The memories of the physical and psychological torture he endured, replayed in excruciating detail, caused Sam to curl up and wrap his arms around his head. He wasn't sure how long he remained like that, but eventually Dean's panicked voice broke through the literal hell he was experiencing.

"…am?...plea… -alk…me….ammy?"

Sam fought as hard as he could to open his eyes. His efforts were rewarded with the sight of his brother's worried green eyes looking down at him.

"Sammy?"

Sam managed a small smile.

"Hey Dean."

Dean breathed out a relieved sigh.

"You had me worried, man."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck."

As soon as the phrase was spoken, Sam remembered what happened last time he made light of the situation. He flinched and waited for the inevitable lashing out.

When Sam replied with almost exactly the Sam answer as before, Dean began to hope that he hadn't messed up as badly as he had feared. But those hopes were promptly dashed when he saw realization dawn in Sam's eyes and he couldn't quite mask the flinch as he no doubt expected to be yelled at again. Well, Dean wasn't going to make that mistake again.

Sam was pleasantly surprised when, instead of getting snapped at, he was asked gently, "Do you want anything?"

Sam could feel himself starting to fall asleep again.

"Don't leave."

The last thing he heard was, "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy."

When Sam fell asleep curled up against Dean, asking him to stay, Dean felt a surge of love for his baby brother so great it brought tears to his eyes. Get it together, Winchester. Dean gently palmed Sam's forehead, satisfied that the fever had not returned. The heat coming from sharing a bed with his oversized little brother was starting to bother him, but there was no way he was moving and risking waking Sam. Dean eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

When Sam woke up, his initial thought was that his fever was back. As he became more aware, he realized that the heat was radiating from his brother. Sam sat up, taking a minute for his vision to clear, then put his hand on Dean's forehead. He couldn't tell you the exact temperature, but he know it was too high. Unfortunately, Sam wasn't at one hundred percent yet. In fact, if he had to guess, Sam would say he was about thirty percent, which was barely functioning, even for a Winchester. Still, he had to do something. So, he levered himself into a standing position, using the nightstand to help him keep his balance. He slowly make it to the bathroom, taking the bowl of lukewarm water with him. Refilling the bowl with the coldest water he could get out of the tap, he got a new washcloth and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and made his way back to the bed. Dean was still asleep, but Sam wasn't sure if that was because he was tired or because his fever was that high. Sam really just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the trip to the bathroom had depleted reserves he didn't have to begin with. But, Dean needed his help. So, Sam sat himself against the headboard between Dean and the nightstand and started the repetitive task of trying to bring the fever down with a rag and cold water.

When Dean swam his way out of unconsciousness, the first thing he noticed is that he was wet. As he looked around, he saw Sam next to him, asleep. There were matching red spots on his cheeks, indicating that his fever had returned. But, that didn't explain why Dean was wet. Then Dean noticed the wet rag in Sam's hand. The pieces clicked. Dean had a fever, or at least, Sam thought he did. Dean dug the thermometer out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. When it beeped, he looked at the display. 101.5. Well done, Sammy. Speaking of which, little brother wasn't looking so good. Dean eased his brother down as that his head was back on Dean's chest. Sam shifted a little, then let out a contented sigh and settled back down, gripping the hem of Dean's t-shirt. Dean took the rag and put in back in the bowl on the nightstand. He noticed the bottle of Tylenol, so he dry swallowed a few. He suspected Sam had brought his fever back by trying to bring Dean's fever down. It had worked, but Dean didn't want his brother to have to do that again. Dean drifted back to sleep to the sound of Sam's breathing.

Sam woke up on top of Dean, again. When he put his hand on his older brother's forehead, it was cool. So the fever had gone down. Sam doubted it was completely gone, but it was at least lower than his, which made it manageable. Relieved that his brother was fine, Sam lay back down and went to sleep.

Dean was woken up from a lovely dream about two blondes and a sauna by his baby brother. The reprimand on the tip of his tongue quickly died when Dean realized what was going on.

"Please. Please, leave him alone. Take me, take me instead! TAKE ME!"

Sam shot upright, panting heavily.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy there, Sammy. It's okay, you're okay."

It was only after Sam sat up that Dean realized how much heat had had been giving off. Dean gently pulled his brother back down, all the while murmuring assurances. When Sam was relatively calmed down, Dean put the thermometer into Sam's mouth. It came out reading 103.2, which was still pretty high.

"Hey buddy, can you swallow something for me?"

However, when was Dean's life ever that easy? Sam jerked his head away, stuck in a fever-induced nightmare. Dean sighed and reached over to the bowl of water and grabbed the rag. It was hardly cold anymore, but it was cool, and that would have to do. Eventually, Sam's fever started to come down. When his eyes slit open, and a broken "De'n? came out, Dean was beyond thrilled.

"Hey, Sammy. Can you swallow these for me?"

"Okay."

Once Sam had taken the Tylenol and gone back to sleep, Dean popped a couple himself and joined his brother in sleep.

A sound woke Dean. The sound was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Then it came again, and this time Dean knew exactly what it was. Sam was whimpering like he hadn't since he was five and trying not to cry when he had skinned his knee. The sound broke Dean's heart. What did they do to you down there, kiddo? Dean didn't want to wake Sam up, so he tried something he would never do while Sam was awake, he started rubbing circles on his brother's back, hoping to calm him down.

Surprisingly, it worked. The whimpering stopped, and Sam settled back down. For a while Dean just watched him, which was not creepy. He was his brother, thank you and good-bye. Sam looked so young, it took Dean back to the days when big brother's say-so was enough to make everything right in the world. When Sam shifted, grabbed Dean's t-shirt, then settled back down with a small sigh, a small smile actually reached Dean's lips. For a long time they just sat there, one finally having found restful sleep and the other having rediscovered his reason for carrying on.