Title: Not Before Everything

Summary: Sam was sick and feverish when he decided that picking a fight with a group of hunters was a good idea. Set in early season 8. Hurt!Sam. Sick!Sam. Protective!Dean. Big!Bro!Dean.

Warnings: Spoilers up to Season 8. Graphic descriptions of physical violence. Threats. Violence. Bad language. Rated T.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show.

Sam didn't get sick very often, but when he did, it was always the worst it could possibly get.

Having practically raised the kid, Dean knew the signs of a sick little brother by heart. He had a mental checklist to go by and whenever Sammy started showing more than three signs at a time, Dean usually booked them a nice hotel room somewhere and stocked up their med-supply.

So when Sam took about twice as long as usual to get ready in the bathroom before they hit the road that day; when he cleared his throat every other minute and started fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat, Dean knew. He could see it in the way Sam's shoulders were knotted with tension, in the way Sam's hazel eyes turned glassy and distant, the usual spark of energy gone from their depths. He noticed it in the way Sam couldn't sit still because it was usually joint pain that bothered him most when he came down with something.

Dean had probably known it before Sam noticed the signs himself; years of attentiveness to every little discomfort his brother was feeling had sharpened his senses.

There used to be a time when Dean would have force-fed Sam Advil, tucked him into bed and taken his temperature at this point, but not today. Not with all the crap they had gone through, lately. The whole topic of Benny and Amelia was still not completely off the table and despite having chosen each other and their brotherhood above their outside relationships, Dean could tell that their bond was still strained from the most recent case of hurt, lies, and betrayal.

They had spent the entire car ride in silence so far and even though Dean would like to think that it was only because Sam's throat was sore, he still couldn't deny that they didn't talk much with each other, these days. And Dean got it, he did. Sam was still hurt over the whole text message thing with Amelia- had taken it personally, just like Dean knew he would. But then again, Dean had wanted to hurt his brother. He had wanted for Sam to feel just as hurt as Dean had felt when he had found out that Sam couldn't be bothered to even look for him while he was in Purgatory.

And that was also why, when Sam started coughing and fidgeting and becoming visibly uncomfortable in his skin, Dean chose to say nothing and ignore it.

Or he tried to ignore it anyway, for all but five miles.

But when the slightest frown of discomfort appeared on Sam's forehead, Dean wordlessly switched off the radio, knowing the usual rock music didn't do Sam's raging headache any favors. When Sam started shivering, Dean turned up the heating. And then, when Sam was still shivering despite the cranked up heat, Dean cursed under his breath and reached over to press his palm against Sam's forehead.

Shit.

Sam didn't just have a fever; he was burning up. The Impala swerved a little before Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road, tires squealing against the gravel as he came to an abrupt halt.

"What are you—"

"Shut up," Dean cut him off and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, forcefully turning him around so he could take a look at his little brother's face and assess the full damage. Sam's forehead was sweaty, soaked strands of hair hanging lifelessly in his eyes. His cheeks were hollowed out and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Damn. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Sam swallowed, glassy eyes drifting to the side with a heavy drag of lashes. "You didn't ask."

Dean didn't expect the words to pack such a punch, but they did.

Was this what they had become? Dean ignoring his brother's pain and Sam not telling Dean how shitty he felt, not asking for help. Fuck that.

An unexpected surge of anger flared up in Dean's stomach. Sam had no right to feel victimized or righteous, here. If he hadn't run off with a goddamn girl like he didn't give a damn about his own flesh-and-blood brother, none of this would have happened.

"Yeah, well, we can't afford you getting sick, so…" Dean didn't really know where he was going with this. He cleared his voice, eyes fixated on the road ahead of them because it was hard to be mad at someone who looked like a kicked puppy. Especially when that someone was Dean's little brother.

"What do you want from me, Dean? An apology?" Sam's voice was hoarse and his nose was congested, his cheeks flushed a light pink from the fever. His eyes were glassy, but somehow he still managed to glare daggers at Dean. The incredulity in Sam's tone- the bitter huff of disbelief and anger as his little brother shook his head. 'You want to blame me for getting sick when you can't even apologize for making me believe the girl I love is dead? Fuck you… just- fuck you, Dean.'

The words weren't spoken out loud, but Dean heard them clear as day. He didn't even have to look at Sam to know that it was all there, written across his face. The hurt, the guilt, the inevitable sting of betrayal.

"Why don't you drop me off at a motel somewhere and do your thing. I'm not gonna be of much use to you in the state I'm in," Sam said bitterly, shivering even harder than before and wrapping his overly long arms around his middle. He didn't look at Dean when he added, "You should call Benny. I'm sure he would love to tag along."

Dean's jaw clenched even tighter at that because Sam knew that Dean had ended his friendship with Benny, just like Sam had ended his whatever-the-hell-it-was with that Amelia chick. There was no going back to that. Dean had given up one of the best, most genuine friendships he's ever had. End of the fucking line. He had done it for Sam. And this was how he got repaid for it?

"Yeah, maybe I will," Dean snapped and then watched with cruel satisfaction how Sam's eyes filled with hurt at the rejection.

Sam wasn't used to not getting his way where Dean was concerned. He also wasn't used to not being the center of Dean's attention or to have to compete with someone else for his older brother's affection. It was bothering him a lot, Dean could tell… good. Maybe this would teach him a lesson, show him that he was just as expendable to Dean as Dean had been to Sam when he got stuck in Purgatory. Doesn't feel so great to get replaced, does it, Sammy?

Dean swallowed down his bitterness and pulled up in the parking lot of some rundown highway motel. A truck stop and a diner were right next to it, perfect for a pit stop and a couple of hours of alcohol-induced sleep. Dean told himself that he needed it, he wasn't really doing it for Sam.

"Why did you stop?" Sam asked, still sounding miffed and utterly miserable. By now his face looked almost ashen and his forehead was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. He was still shaking and from the looks of it in a whole lot of pain. Stubborn ass probably hadn't eaten anything all day, much less taken any damn painkillers.

"Why do you think I stopped?" Dean rolled his eyes. He idled the engine and eased out from behind the steering wheel. "You wanna take a backseat from this hunt? Fine, suit yourself. Going into a case half-cocked is only gonna get one of us killed."

"Right," Sam huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Because that's what I do, right? Letting people down and getting them killed."

Dean swallowed and looked away, trying not to let his guilt show. Dean had said some stuff he wasn't exactly proud of and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the things he had accused his brother of would haunt Sam for weeks, months- maybe forever.

'Every relationship I've ever had has gone to crap at some point. But the one thing I can say about Benny? He has NEVER let me down.'

Dean had regretted it. He had regretted it the second Sam had looked at him with those huge, hazel eyes filled with incredulity and pain. Because, yes, they had both said some hurtful shit in the past, but Dean had practically declared then and there that he didn't trust Sam like he trusted Benny. That he still hadn't forgiven Sam for his mistakes of the past, that their brotherhood was no longer what it used to be, that it would never go back to how it was. Which wasn't true. None of it was.

Dean had thought it would feel good to say those words, give him some kind of satisfaction, but it hadn't.

All it had made him feel at the time was regret. Because no matter how bad things had gotten between them, in the end, Dean would trust Sam over anyone, wouldn't want any other person on the surface of this planet to sit in the Impala next to him or to work a case with than his brother.

"I'll go and get our keys. Stay put," Dean said and closed the Impala's door.

Sam watched Dean go through a haze of anger and hurt.

He felt like he'd just gotten hit by an eighteen-wheeler; muscles aching, head throbbing with the kind of headache that usually followed an all-nighter with too much whiskey. His throat was aching and Sam couldn't for the life of him stop shivering, despite Dean turning up the heat in the car.

It wasn't often that either of them got laid up with the flu, but when they did, they usually took these things very seriously. If there was one thing they had learned from the past, it was that you didn't go on a hunt when your head wasn't in the game or when you weren't physically fit enough. And running a fever of 105 really wasn't going to help them in taking out a Wendigo.

Usually, they booked a motel room somewhere and gave their hunt on to someone else in the hunting community. They would haul up in one of Bobby's old cabins or in some sleazy motel room with a huge stock of stolen medicine and wait until the worst of it blew over, watching stupid day-time TV and talking about everything and nothing. Dean would make Sam chicken broth and buy him apple juice and he'd be mother henning- feeling Sam's temperature and making sure he ate enough, took his pills… not this time, however. This time, Dean was going to replace Sam with his new best friend, Benny, the vampire.

And it really shouldn't bother him as much as it did, but Sam felt almost panicked at the way Dean was behaving, at the fact that for the first time in his life, Dean was preferring someone else over him.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut against an unexpected sting of tears, trying to shove those dark thoughts into the deepest corner of his mind. He couldn't afford to let Dean's friendship with Benny affect him that much. After all, he had started a life of his own with Amelia, too- had found a new person to share trust and affection with as well.

But this felt different. For the first time ever, Sam felt like he had finally messed up badly enough for his brother to give up on him and turn towards someone else.

With another shiver wrecking his spine, Sam turned his sluggish gaze towards the window and frowned when he saw a couple of flannel-wearing guys crowding in on a girl that couldn't have been much older than twenty. She was wearing an apron, brown hair pulled up in a loose bun and it wasn't difficult to tell from her posture and expression how uncomfortable she was, being surrounded by a group of men in the creeping darkness of the alleyway.

Sam was out of the car before he consciously realized it, long limbs shaking under his weight as he swayed, shaking his head as if that could somehow clear his vision from where black spots were dancing in the corner of his eyes. "Hey! Get away from her!"

The guys turned around to shoot Sam a look and it was only then that Sam realized that he knew them- that he had, in fact, been working with them in the past. Hunters. Some of his dad's old hunting buddies that Dean had cut all strings with after a particularly ruthless hunt had gone south.

Sam still remembered the way Jack and Davis had looked at him after word had gotten around about Sam having started the Apocalypse- would probably never be able to forget the things they had spat out at him in rage until Dean had intervened, telling them to mind their own fucking business.

Funny how some things never changed… until they suddenly did.

Sam wasn't so sure if Dean would still put up a fight for him these days.

"Well, would you look at that," Davis said, turning his attention towards Sam and taking a step away from the girl. The rest of the group followed; four of them, probably all in their late fifties. Sam only recognized Jack and Davis and he had always thought that they were assholes, even long before the shit they had spewed into his face. "If it isn't little Sammy Winchester."

Sam couldn't even be bothered to throw the guy a glare for his lame attempt at an insult. He might be many things. But little? Yeah, not so much. "What do you want with the girl?"

"She's a witness," Davis grinned, lying through his shiny white teeth like the fucking spineless bastard he was. Sam huffed out a shaky breath and nodded like he actually believed a word that came out of the guy's mouth. "I suggest you let her walk back inside," he said, voice hard despite the raging fever wearing him down, despite the way his body felt heavy and uncooperative.

"Oh yeah?" Davis said, rolling his neck a little in preparation for a fight. His buddies were moving forward along with him, crossing the distance to come to stand in front of the Impala. "What's it to you, boy king? You suddenly got morals after you unleashed the devil and damn near killed us all?"

Sam was prepared for the words, but they still hurt. They always would.

"Not so smug now, are you, Sammy?" Jack piped up from the side, eyeing Sam with a look of pure disgust like he was merely more than a waste of oxygen. The hatred in the older hunter's eyes was only exceeded by the level of smugness in his tone, voice dripping with provocation when he spat out Sam's nickname.

"It's Sam to you," he growled out because even when he and Dean weren't on the best terms right now, Dean was still the only one who was allowed to address him by his much-loathed nickname. Not that Dean used it a lot anymore, but still... Sam swallowed down his hurt, trying to focus on the here-and-now.

"Why so feisty, princess?" Davis chuckled and took a look around the vacated parking lot. Sam tensed at the gesture, recognizing it for what it really was- a way to make sure that they were alone, that nobody would come to jump in and help Sam once they had thrown the first punch. "I'd be careful if I was you, especially since your brother isn't around to play chaperone."

"Where's Dean anyway?" Jack asked in a low tone, malicious glee sparkling in his eyes. "Did he finally realize what the rest of the community had known for years now?" Jack leaned in close and Sam tensed up even further at the way the older man's warm breath ghosted against the shell of his ear. "Did he finally admit that you're just a variation of the black-eyed sons of bitches we gank on a regular basis? I mean it's funny how you always valued your brotherhood above everything, when you have demon blood in you and he doesn't. When you're not even the same species."

The words hurt worse than any type of physical abuse ever could. Sam's eyes stung and his heart was actually standing still inside of his chest for a few seconds, throat closing up on him. Dean was Sam's everything- his entire world. The thought that he had been tainted, that he was different from his dad and brother had always weighed on Sam's heart but to think that someone would go as far as to say that they weren't real brothers, that they weren't family, it made Sam sick to his stomach.

"Can't really blame him for it, though," Davis went on. "Who'd wanna be brothers with a demon blood junkie when—" Whatever else the hunter was about to say was lost in a strangled grunt of pain when Dean's fist connected with the guy's face. Davis dropped to his knees in a second flat, clutching at his nose, blood leaking from his nostrils and down his lips. Sam let out a soft gasp in shock. He hadn't realized that his older brother had listened in on their conversation.

"You got anything else to say about us, Davis?" Dean growled out and grabbed the older hunter by the hair, twisting his finger against the man's scalp and yanking his head back in a gesture that was rough and dominant, putting him into his place. The other hunters made a move forward, ready to jump in, but Dean wasn't fucking around. He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and flicked back the safety, staring them down with a stone-cold expression from behind the glinting barrel. "C'mon, now! Don't be shy. Tell me all about what the 'rest of the community' has to say about us. I'm all ears."

"Dean, listen, man—" Jack stepped forward only to stumble back the next second when Dean let off a warning shot, only missing Jack's right foot by mere centimeters.

"No you listen," Dean spat into Jack's face, voice dripping venom. "You ever show your face again and I will put a bullet between your damn eyes, you got that? I so much as hear another word about Sam coming from your mouth and you're toast, Jack. I ain't joking."

Jack nodded idly and even Davis, still clutching his nose and trying to stop the blood flow was for once-shocked into silence. They left, gathering Davis up from the ground and carrying him over to their truck, while Dean stared after them, breathing heavily. He didn't put the gun away until they had driven off towards the highway, safely out of their sight.

"You okay?" Dean asked in a gruff voice, stepping close to where Sam was still propped up against the Impala's hood, looking shaky and miserable and about two seconds from getting close and personal with the cemented ground beneath his feet.

Sam nodded shakily, feeling even worse than before now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "There was a girl… they just… I thought they were giving her trouble."

Dean nodded. "Knowing those assholes, they probably were," he said and then without another word he was up in Sam's face, cupping his cheeks with his palms and turning his head from side to side to assess it, to ensure that he hadn't missed any serious damage. It was such a Dean-thing to do that it made Sam lean into the touch, soaking up the warmth and gesture of affection.

"What they said…" Dean started and then cut himself off, eyes stormy with anger. Sam wondered how long Dean had been standing in the shadows, far enough to remain unseen and close enough to listen to what they were saying. "You know that's complete bullshit, right?"

Sam swallowed, not making eye contact.

He just wanted to bury his face in a pillow and sleep for the rest of the week.

"Sammy…" Dean urged quietly, his voice a whole lot more gentle than it had been all month. He softly lifted Sam's chin up and forced him to make eye contact and Sam's lip wobbled. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? "Hey, man, c'mon. You're exhausted."

Dean gently nudged his shoulder before slinging both their duffle bags over his shoulder and locking the car behind them. He led them over to their motel room and unlocked it, holding it open for Sam as he shuffled inside, long arms still wrapped protectively around his waist and soggy strands falling lifelessly into his eyes. Sam made a line for the bathroom but Dean stopped him and jabbed a thumb towards the bed farthest from the door. "Sleep. Now. Everything else can wait."

"But I—"

"You can shower later," Dean said as if reading his mind. He went over to unzip his duffle and then handed Sam a couple of pills and a half-finished bottle of water. "Here, take those. I'll unpack our stuff and make a few calls, see if anyone's free to take this case off of our hands."

Sam frowned. "But I thought—"

"Think we earned a break," Dean cut him off again, digging a hoodie from the bottom of his duffle and dropping it wordlessly on Sam's mattress. He added Sam's favorite sweatpants and a loose shirt to the mix and then grabbed a set of clothes for himself. "Besides, whatever the hell you are coming down with, it's gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better."

Sam sniffed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Aren't you going to call Benny?" he couldn't help but ask.

"We said both feet in or both feet out," Dean explained softly, not making eye-contact as he ran a hand through his hair. "We agreed on that."

Sam was quiet in the aftermath of those words, just letting them sink in, relief washing over him.

"Listen to me," Dean's voice was soft when he started speaking again, eyes filled with compassion and guilt where there had been fury not too long ago. "I know we have our disagreements, but what these bastards said out there—" Dean swallowed and shook his head, having a hard time voicing whatever was on his mind.

Sam's fingers were sweaty, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He wasn't sure he could listen to whatever Dean was going to say next without losing his last bit of composure.

"There will never be a day in my life, for as long as I live, where I won't consider you my brother."

Sam's hands tangled in the sheets and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to swallow down the bittersweet ache those much-needed words brought.

"Okay," Sam said weakly, voice brittle and void of any of the bitterness it had held for the past few weeks after Dean had pulled that trick with Amelia. There were still a lot of issues they needed to work through, a lot of stuff to forgive and forget, but Sam took some relief knowing that Dean had still stood up for him in the fight. That his big brother still considered them family, even after their most recent fallout.

"Okay," Dean agreed gruffly. "Now go to sleep. You look like shit."

"Thanks," Sam chuckled and flopped back against the mattress with a heavy sigh. Lids falling closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, Sam was already half asleep when he felt the tender brush of fingers against his forehead and the warmth of an extra blanket settling over his trembling body.

TBC...

Hope you guys enjoyed this piece. I really wanted to write something where the boys could work through their issues of early season 8. So I'm going with another 'pick your own' ending kind of fic here and let you choose where to take the story. Here are the options for chapter two:

A) Sam's fever spikes and he starts talking in his sleep. The things he says make Dean realize how much he had hurt Sam by saying that Benny was a better brother than Sam had ever been. Dean does everything to bring Sam's fever down and talk him through it.

B) Dean runs out of medicine and goes on a supply run when the hunters come back for a round two. After a heated argument between the hunters and Dean, where he finds himself fiercely defending Sam, they decide to teach Dean a lesson. When Sam wakes up to find the motel room empty, he goes looking for his brother...

Thanks for reading! Reviews make my day :)