There was a slamming of a door and the sounds of keys being turned as the motor died before he could feel hands on his shoulders, pulling him up and out of the car. "Come on Sam, I can't do this without your help," words were being shot at him, and for some reason he didn't seem to understand them.

His body felt like it was burning and his head was heavy as lead, as he let Dean lead him towards the motel room he had a vague memory of paying for a few days earlier. Dean was supporting his body weight, groaning at the heaviness that was Sam's built muscles stretched over his 6'4''.

"Sammy, sure you're keeping to your strict rabbit food diet?" the words were strained and Sam didn't recognise them replying only with a gasp at being pushed up against the outer wall of the motel, as Dean searched for the key to their room. He started sacking, his knees not able to keep him upright. "Sam, at least stand on your own two feet, how hard is that?" Dean sounded annoyed and Sam didn't know why.

When Dean had finally managed to get his younger but definitely not smaller brother thrown onto one of the beds in the motel room he sighed in exhaustion and sat down next to the large body. The fact that Sam had survived was marvellous, actually every bit a surprise to Dean as a relief. Apparently not all pagan gods were listed correctly on the wiki-site they'd found, which really wasn't a surprise. It was still an annoyance, but not really a surprise.

"We're gonna get him soon, Sammy, don't worry." He patted his brother's thigh and frowned. Sam was shaking violently and when Dean moved his hand to where he could find exposed skin it was clear he was breaking a fever.

"God I hate gods sometimes," Dean declared and went to Sam's backpack where they usually kept all sorts of medicine for when stuff went wrong. He wasn't sure whether this was a supernatural fever or a normal fever incited by supernatural stuff but he wanted to make sure it wouldn't last long.

So he gave Sam medicine and checked Dad's notes for medical mumbo jumbo (which wasn't something he'd ever taken his time to examine closely before) and did what he had to do.

When the deeds were done he knew that the best thing to help kill a fever was sleep. So naturally he waited for Sam to fall asleep.

Problem was that Sam was shaking too hard to fall asleep.

"Come on Sammy, you've got to lie still," he groaned after one and a half hour, sitting in the other bed and munching on some Chinese take-away he'd bought for himself. He couldn't remember last time Sam had been sick, turns out Winchesters have terrific immune systems, so he had no clue what to do to calm Sam down enough for him to rest well.

"I'm trying, Dean," Sam replied and wept a hand over his forehead to clean off the sweat. At least he was able to understand what Dean said again, after having been given some pills. That much was a relief at least and his entire body didn't feel like it was on fire either, so he knew he was getting better. "It's kind of hard when your body doesn't want to," he sighed. Yeah okay, he was getting better, didn't mean he was better yet.

"Oh for god's sake, need me to keep you down?"

There was a moment of silence that would normally have been filled with laughter because of the joke, but with the strong need of rest eating at Sam's normal judgement and the fever still there somewhere, he just ended up replying "Could you?"

Dean glared at him, noodles hanging from his mouth and a look of you're fucking kidding me, right? emerging from him. Sam just lied still (when not considering the shaking of course), eyes fixed on Dean and a plea ready on his lips.

He was surprised when he didn't have to ask again.

Dean put down the food and walked over to Sam's bed, where he sat down next to his little brother. "Don't look at me like that, you obviously need it," he huffed and lied down on his side next to Sam. "Now turn around," he ordered, and Sam did as he was told - head still dizzy from the fever.

They scooped around a bit before finally finding a satisfying way for Dean to keep Sam fixated, and Sam sighed with content when his shaking slowly decreased.

It didn't take long for Sam to get drowsy, his entire body was pleading him for rest and he felt so oddly safe with Dean's arms around him and his one leg swung over Sam's to keep them from shaking too.

"You smell of garlic," he noted and a smile crept over his face.

Dean growled and twisted a bit in his position as the big spoon. "Dude, when we wake up tomorrow you'd better fucking remember why we're lying like this, I've got no idea how to explain it to you if you don't!"

Sam promised him that he'd remember and then he fell asleep.