So, that re-hymenation thing? Turns out it has a downside.
The first time it happens, Sam is actually grateful. The low-grade fever Dean's running along with his sore throat makes him sleep longer and deeper, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to duck out and see Ruby. When he returns to the motel in the morning, Dean is still out cold. Sam wakes him up to make him drink the hot tea with honey he brought back from the local coffee shop. Dean's fever breaks the next day and then they're off for another job.
The second time it happens is the day after Dean is cured of the ghost sickness, and Sam figures it's a reaction to all the stress. This time, Dean tries to shrug off Sam's help, tough it out on his own, but by the third day Dean is miserable from pain and fever and finally submits to Sam's care. Sam makes him gargle salt water and take Tylenol on a rigid schedule and soothes Dean's fevered skin with cool facecloths.
The third time it happens, Dean spikes a fever of 103.8 and can't swallow pills. His glands swell to the size of half-dollars and he mumbles deliriously about fire and blood and demons. After 24 hours with no change, Sam hauls his ass to a clinic, where a strep test comes out negative.
"He keeps getting sore throats--this is his third one in a couple of months," Sam tells the pretty young doctor. "It's really getting in the way of our work. Is there anything else you can do?"
She consults with a colleague and soon Dean has a referral to see a general surgeon at the county hospital. Sam drags Dean in while he's too sick to argue and the surgeon agrees to remove Dean's tonsils as soon as he's over his current bout of tonsillitis.
A week later, Sam's in the surgical waiting room checking his watch anxiously. They said the surgery would only take about an hour, maybe less, but it's been close to two and there's still no word. When a nurse comes in ten minutes later, the look on her face makes Sam's stomach turn. He jumps up. "What happened?"
"Your brother had a reaction to the anesthetic," she answers. "It was touch and go there for a while, but he's in recovery now and he'll be carefully monitored to prevent any further complications."
"Can I see him?" Sam whispers.
"Once he's moved from recovery to the ICU you may see him, but ICU visiting hours are fairly strict." Sam must look as shocked and dismayed as he feels, because she smiles gently and says, "The ICU placement is just a precaution; there are fewer patients to each doctor, which means that if there are any problems, they can be dealt with immediately."
Sam swallows hard against the lump that's suddenly grown in his throat. "But he's gonna be okay, right?"
She nods, still smiling. "Your brother's young and strong. His age and previous good health improve his outlook considerably." She gestures to the couch. "Have a seat, I'll let you know when you may see him."
Sam sits back down, feeling dazed and empty. God, it's all his fault. Dean almost died, just because Sam was sick of dealing with him. He hasn't felt this helpless since Dean died. There's nothing he can do to fix this, not even with his powers.
He hasn't prayed much since finding out the angels are total dicks, but he doesn't know what else to do. Please, God, let Dean be okay. I can't lose him again, I just can't. He doesn't deserve to die because I'm a selfish asshole--that's just not fair. Please, God, help my brother.