OK, so this is a little late, but I have been without internet for 4 weeks, and just got it back! Woohoo.
Dean tossed and turned under the hotel comforter, shivering,
The sheet under him was cool, sweat soaked, and disgusting.
He was cold one minute, he was hot the next, he couldn't control it.
Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead and all across his body.
Why had he taken his damn shirt off?
Dean was miserable.
And alone.
He'd been in Hell, surely a flu wouldn't get the best of him.
He needed a warm shirt, some dry sheets and a bottle of Nyquil.
He needed someone to tuck him in.
Dean needed his brother.
"Sammy, where are you?"