Disclaimer: This is a transformative work based on the original concept of E. Kripke. No money is being made off of this work.

E/O CHALLENGE: SPECIAL EDITION FOR MAD SERVERS BIRTHDAY!

Theme: Dean has a fever. Sam checks his forehead.

Word count: out the window….

A/N: First, I must apologize to everyone to whom I owe a review reply. My RL has been crazy out of control – some of you know a small bit of how much… Please know that I do appreciate and cherish every review I get – they have been all that's kept me going at points over the last little while… So a huge HUG and thank you to everyone who has been reading, alerting, and reviewing.

A/N2: Sorry this is so angsty. Set after ep. 4.12, ref's to 4.11.

Dean hadn't bothered to take the Impala to the bar. He knew he'd be too drunk to drive home at the end of the evening. He also knew he was coming back to the motel room alone. The thought of someone touching him in any way that felt like comfort just made his skin crawl. So yeah. There had been pretty girls in the bar, rough as it was, but Dean didn't bother to even try to make eye contact with them. When they tried to talk to him, he smiled politely but made it clear he wasn't interested in a drinking companion.

Dean flipped the collar of his jacket up again and clutched it a bit closer to his throat. Who knew it was going to freakin' rain? He was already soaked through and wasn't even half way back to the motel.

He was pretty sure the room would be empty when he got there. Sam had been pissed when he left, so Dean figured he wouldn't do him the courtesy of waiting until he was asleep before sneaking out to meet up with the skank.

Well, at least Dean could shower and pass out in peace then. He could let his mask slip a little. Dean had seen the look on Sam's face after his latest confession. Sam had been…. impatient. Bored? Definitely tired of hearing Dean whine about his time away. And something else. Disgusted? Disappointed? Vindicated?

Dean shivered and took a bad step, staggering and almost falling to his knees. Yup. Well. He was pathetic. But he also knew how to shut his trap. He'd vowed that that was the last time he would say one word about Hell. Course, as that was what was on his mind pretty much 24/7, it didn't leave a lot of room for conversation. It had been pretty quiet in the Impala since the magic convention.

Dean had continued to push to keep hunting, butting one hunt up against the last. Sam had called it weeks ago. He was tired. In fact, as he staggered again, he was so tired, he wasn't sure he could be bothered to get all the way back to the motel.

Dean cursed as his shin connected with a bench that someone had put in his way. Scowling at it, Dean nonetheless sank bonelessly onto it in order to rub his aching leg. As Dean bent over, he was overwhelmed by sudden dizziness and almost tumbled off the bench. He settled for simply letting himself lie down on his side and letting his eyes slide shut.

It was the shaking that woke him. The rain had stopped, but the temperature had dropped, and someone, god damn it, was shaking him.

"Go way," Dean muttered.

The shaking continued.

Dean's head was pounding. The shaking wasn't helping.

In fact, the shaking was so violent it was making his teeth clack together.

"Fuck off," Dean growled in what he hoped was his most menacing voice.

Still. Shaking.

Dean forced an eye open.

It was still very dark. He appeared to be outside. There was nobody else there.

Nobody was shaking him. He was shaking with cold.

Dean groaned. Even the faint light from the streetlamps was piercing his head.

He reached a shaking hand up to rub at his eyes in an attempt to get them really open. He wasn't surprised when his hand came away wet until he realized that it had stopped raining.

Even his sluggish brain was able to start to make some connections. He was shaking and sweating. He was dizzy, and now that he thought about it, he was nauseous too. He had a splitting headache… This wasn't just the after effects of his nightly binge…

Damn. He was coming down with something. Thinking about it, Dean concluded it wasn't coming, it was here. He'd been feeling off for a couple of days and had just been ignoring it. Usually Sam would have said something, but Dean wasn't really surprised that either Sam hadn't noticed or hadn't thought it was important.

Dean pressed thumb and forefinger into his eyes, trying to clear them of sleep and the stinging sweat that had dripped in them. If he was being really honest, he knew that Sam might not have said anything because the last time he'd bugged Dean about working too hard, Dean had pretty much ripped him a new one…. So yeah. Sam might be a bit gun shy too.

Dean pushed himself up to a standing position, but gripped the bench tightly as another wave of dizziness threatened to take him to the pavement. He managed to keep his feet by clutching the back of the bench. The dizziness gradually passed but the nausea was definitely getting worse.

Pushing off the bench, Dean finally continued back to the motel. It took another 20 minutes to cover the distance that he was sure should have only taken 5. At least the exercise started to warm him up. In fact, by the time he got back, he'd already dragged his coat off, feeling sweat trickling down his body. Being uncomfortably warm brought back more memories. Memories that Dean had just spent the evening drinking to get rid of…

Fumbling with the key in the lock, Dean was thrown off balance when he got the door open and fell in, landing hard on his hands and knees. And that pretty much did it for his stomach. Clenching his jaw shut, Dean half crawled with remarkable speed to the bathroom and launched himself at the toilet, just making it before his stomach completed its rebellion.

Once the heaving relented, Dean let his hot forehead rest on the cool porcelain. Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings again. He knew that he was alone. Not only had no one followed him into the bathroom, no one had even stuck their head in to check on him.

Dean's shivering had started up again. He was pretty sure that the fever was still climbing. Good news was that he was pretty sure there was nothing left in his stomach.

Dean used the sink to drag himself back to his feet. He avoided looking in the mirror as he pawed through his kit looking for ibuprofen. He shook out two pills and chased them down with a mouthful of water. His stomach clenched at the intrusion, but thankfully didn't immediately reject it. Dean splashed cold water on his too hot face and then staggered out of the bathroom.

The room was dark, of course, except for the light from the parking lot that filtered in around the curtains because he hadn't turned any lights on.

Just as Dean had expected, the room was also empty. Dean just felt too tired and generally like shit to even dwell on where his brother was, what he was up to, or who… Nope. Just not going there.

Dean managed to make it to his bed. He even managed to get his boots and most of his wet clothes off. He considered getting something dry from his duffle, but right now across the room might as well be across the moon. He settled for rolling himself in the cocoon of his sheets, letting oblivion take him over for the time being.

---SNSNSNSNSNSN---

Sam returned to the room not long after Dean had stumbled in. It had been a pointless night, Ruby seemingly just wanting to keep him out for no reason. She'd had no leads and her bitching about everything had left Sam feeling even more discontented.

Letting himself into the room, he noted that Dean had returned. He'd half expected that his brother would either still be out at the bar or some girl's apartment. It was really only then that Sam realized how late it was. He always seemed to lose track of time when he was with Ruby.

He moved quietly into the bathroom to make his own preparations for bed. The unmistakable residual smell of someone being ill still lingered in the bathroom.

Nice, Dean, Sam thought, taking in the open kit and bottle of ibuprofen on the counter. Sam shook his head. Well, maybe if Dean was passed out, he'd at least get some sleep.

Sam moved to his own bed when he was finished. He cursed when he tripped over one of Dean's boots. Then he noticed the discarded and soaking clothing.

What the hell?

Dean wasn't a neat roommate, but their father had drilled some rules into their heads, and even Dean didn't leave wet clothes on the floor. Dry? Dirty? Yeah – but even then usually in an unobtrusive pile.

Sam glanced at his brother. He seemed to be trembling. Sam wondered if it was another nightmare.

"Dean?" Sam tried to wake his brother quietly. He got no response. Dean had slept differently since coming back. More soundly. Almost like he had to swim up out of it every time, like something was weighing him down.

When he got no response, Sam moved to wake his brother up and was struck by the heat radiating through the blankets the moment his hand gripped Dean's shoulder. Frowning, Sam moved his hand and ghosted it over Dean's forehead. Not only was he hot he was sweating. And the trembling was obviously shivering.

Sam sighed. He'd seen this coming. Dean had been running himself into the ground. The fact that he'd made himself sick wasn't the least bit surprising. Sam was only surprised at how long it had taken.

Well, Dean had already taken the ibuprofen and was in bed asleep. There really wasn't much else to do. Sam would make sure that he stayed in bed, took more ibuprofen and drank lots of fluids. He hoped it would be enough because he doubted if he could force Dean to stay put for much more than a day. He'd have to think of something. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. Sam was tired too. And he knew that he never made really good decisions when he was tired.

Sam crawled into his own bed, but made sure to lie on his side so that he could watch out for Dean.

---SNSNSNSN---

Sam woke before Dean. It seemed to still be early, and a glance at the clock showed it to still be before 9. Sam rolled out of bed and once again let his hand rest lightly on Dean's forehead. He was still warm, but the shivering had stopped and so had the sweating. The fever seemed to have broken.

Dean murmured in his sleep and Sam withdrew his hand quickly, knowing that Dean would not want that level of intimacy.

Dean's eyelids moved as he struggled to open his eyes.

"Ss…mme?" Came the anticipated slur.

"Yeah, Dean. 'm right here," Sam quietly assured.

"'s up?"

"You're sick. We're staying put today. Think you could take a couple more ibuprofen and drink a bit?"

"'K."

Sam hustled to the bathroom and back, having no faith that Dean would actually stay awake for that long. He was pleasantly surprised when Dean actually cracked an eyelid in his direction when he returned.

Dean silently accepted Sam's offering downing the pills and an entire glass of water before slumping back under the covers.

"Time s'it?"

"Not even 9 yet."

"Wake me by 11, so we can check out. Found a hunt." Dean's eyes had fluttered shut.

"No. We're staying. The hunt will still be there tomorrow," Sam insisted quietly.

Dean was just too tired to argue. Sam sounded so much like John these days that it made Dean's heart ache to hear it, so he opted for the pull of oblivion. He really didn't feel up to dealing right now… maybe tomorrow would be a better day… maybe all he really needed was a good night's sleep…

Sam watched as Dean just gave in and went back to sleep. Sam still wasn't sure what to make of Dean since he'd come back. The four months did seem like forever. In many ways, Sam's four months had seemed more like 40 years too. As he watched his brother sleep, Sam wondered, not for the first time, if he'd lost the connection with who his brother was, if the time apart had made them too different, or if maybe, he'd never really known his brother in the first place. Maybe, if he could just get Dean to stay put for a day and keep everyone else away, they could have a chance to reconnect.

---SNSNSN---

Dean was still pale the next day, but Sam considered it a victory to have kept him in bed for the entire day the day before. Mainly because he just refused to wake Dean up or tell him what time it was, and Dean had been too out of it to figure it out for himself.

Dean couldn't face the enforced confinement of the motel room for another day, though. He refused to let Sam actually take his temperature, and in the end, Sam had reluctantly agreed to head out toward the next hunt. Sam had won two small victories, however. For one, they weren't going to drive straight through, and secondly, at least for today, Sam was going to drive.

"Why don't you just relax? Go to sleep. I mean I'm sitting right here, Dean. I can see you fighting to stay awake." Sam huffed from behind the wheel.

"It's bad enough I let you convince me to let you drive. You can't force me not to make sure you don't hurt my baby," Dean whined back.

"I had her for four months and didn't put a scratch on her."
"That's as may be, but deny that you douched her up on the inside!" Dean shot back.

"Jerk," Sam muttered.

"Bitch."

Both boys looked away from each other, but the words hung in the air, oddly comforting, and Dean did relax and allow himself to drift off to sleep.

A/N: I don't know where this came from. I'm afraid it is a bit rushed (really a lot) and not a good enough happy birthday for MadServer…. But I really did want to post something in her honour to thank her for all her great fics….