Hunters aren't supposed to get sick, Dean thinks begrudgingly as he heats up some tea for Sam. These were the times that he really wished mom was alive, so that she could do this. Dean had been taking care of Sammy's ailments over the years. Whenever it he got a scrape, Dean was there to bandage it. Whenever Sammy had the stomach flu, Dean was always there to hold his hair back while he upchucked. So when he gets sick, Dean knows exactly what to do.
Sammy's long body is confined to the motel bed and he's curled up in tight ball. Cas paces the room like he's waiting to find out if it's a boy or a girl, and Dean can't help but find it a bit endearing. Cas finally seems to get an idea and takes out Sam's laptop. The puzzlement on his face is too damned adorable and Dean decides to go back to work.
"I typed Sam's symptoms into The Google and it says that he has dengue fever." Cas's gravelly voice is steeped with anxiety.
Dean chuckles a little bit and tries to put his fears to rest, "Cas, don't worry. Basically, if you type anything into that damn thing, you'll come out with cancer or some shit. Sammy'll be fine, just a little bug is all."
Cas cocks his head to the side processing what Dean just said and goes to fetch Sam some anti inflammatories. From the bed a small whimpering noise arises, and some coughing. "Stop being such a damn sissy, Samantha. You have a cold, you're not dyin'." Dean teases, his voice filled with affection though. Cas gives Sam the allotted medication, looking oddly maternal. Dean gazes on him with warmth.
"Alright, let's turn in everyone. Oh, Cas, don't give me that look. He'll be fine, damn it." Dean soothed.
Dean falls asleep thinking that even though they don't really have a home, the make up one twisted ass family. He shakes his head, It's a good thing that no one can here you. You sound like a freaking chick right now. For the first time that he can remember, he sleeps peacefully.