A/N: So... I got into Supernatural. Let's just say I am thoroughly addicted and there is no hope for me anymore. XD

This is a oneshot dedicated to my friend, Hatakefire! You really are the best!

This is set during yellow fever (Season 4 episode 6). There is humor and a little bit of angst (and then a little fluffy adorable ending that will make you feel like you're filled with cotton candy).

I hope you all enjoy! Please leave me a review and tell me your thoughts! Thank you all so much! XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

It's Family, Sam!

Dealing with a ghost fevered Dean is not an easy task, Sam thought to himself as he slipped the room key out of his pocket. He had been working for hours, worrying over his older brother, hoping, praying that this wasn't the end again... that he wouldn't have to say goodbye to his brother again after only a short time back.

Shaking the dark thoughts away, unlocking the door of the hotel room with a swipe of the room key, his hands fumbling at the door handle as the clicking sound of the latch unhooking echoed off the walls.

He walked into the hotel room without hesitation, eyes searching around the quiet space for a few moments. Dread settled into the pit of his stomach when he saw the figure hunched in the corner of the room.

Dean sat with his back pressed to the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. There was a slight tremble to the man's figure, making the black hole of worry grow wider in his chest. This was not good.

"Dean?" he asked hesitantly, his hand resting on his older brother's warm shoulder. "What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean shuddered at the touch, flinching away his eyes fixed on the ground. "Nothing," he snapped, the word cutting through the tense silence. He couldn't tell Sammy about the emptiness, about the darkness threatening to devour his soul, bit by bit until he was nothing but a broken body, lying there on the cheap carpeted floor.

"Dean," Sam all but shouted. "Why won't you just tell me what the problem is! Why don't you just talk to me, Dean? I may be able to help you with this... help you deal with what happened to you while you were in Hell."

"This isn't about Hell, Sam." Dean's voice was a wave of ice water, washing over him and taking his breath away as cold fingers crushed his heart.

"What is it about?" he managed to choke out past the huge lump in his throat.

When the older man next spoke, pain laced his voice, his lips trembling as he mumbled the words softly.

"The pie, Sam..."

"The... the what?"

"The pie! You never got me the damn pie, Sammy! I asked you for it... I reminded you of it! 'Don't forget the pie!' But no, Sammy, you never gave me any pie!" Dean was looking directly into Sam's eyes now, his gaze portraying all of his pain, all of the suffering he felt from the memory.

Sam bit his lip to try and hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest, his vision blurring with the effort. Pie. Seriously? Pie. Only Dean would manage to get this worked up over something as simple as a piece of pie.

"Dean," he said softly. "You need to calm down, Dean. It's just pie..."

"No, it's not just pie, Sammy. It's family, Sam! And you gave up on it!"

"Dean, this is the ghost sickness talking... you need to take a deep breath... Come on." Sam leaned closer to his brother, pulling one of the man's trembling hands up to rest on his his own chest.

"Breathe with me, Dean," Sam said, sucking in air slowly through his nose, letting his chest expand as the oxygen filled his lungs. Dean took a few shuddering breaths, the cloudiness gradually falling out of his vision, his hand still clenching tightly onto Sam's shirt like it was his lifeline, as if it were the only thing holding him to reality.

It was a few more minutes before he noticed the hands on his, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Ewww, get off me, Sam," he said, brushing the hand off his shoulder with a grimace. "Could you be any more of a girl?"

Sam just raised his eyebrows, brushing the dust off his jeans and straightening up. "You were more of a girl than me," he said with a grin. "You were crying, Dean. Over pie."

"I was not," Dean snapped back, giving his brother his best if-you-don't-shut-up-now-I-will-freaking-rip-the-bangs-off-your-forehead look. Sam was not deterred.

"Yes, Dean. You were. Actual tears were dripping down your face," Sam responded.

"They were manly tears!" Dean protested. "Completely rational, manly tears."

"Sure... Sure they were..." Sam responded, before going back to the small table in the corner of the room and grabbing his laptop. They sat in comfortable silence, the sunlight drifting in through the windows and splashing in warm pools of light on the cheap red carpet.

Sam glanced over at his brother, the older man still sitting sprawled out on the floor, his hands behind his head, his shoulders relaxed and his emerald eyes catching the light just right.

Sam remembered the days when he thought he would never see his older brother again, the dark days when Dean was gone, gone forever in the fiery pits of Hell. He had missed the banter, the talks, the silly comments about girls and bands and cars and pie. He would do anything to keep his older brother alive, safe with him, now, safe with him to continue fighting the darkness of the world, together.

Dean could feel his brother watching him from the other side of the room, the young man's gaze boring into his skull and making him feel uncomfortable. He gave the young man a quick look, noticing the slight tension in his brother's shoulders, the worry that clouded his eyes making him look ten years older.

Dean could practically hear the thoughts tumbling in Sam's mind, the thoughts of dark times past and dark times to come.

I missed you when you were gone, Dean. You can't die again, Dean... I don't know if I can go through that again.

He felt a new determination burn in his chest, warmth spreading through his body from his heart to his fingertips, making his hands tingle.

He wouldn't let his brother go through that ever again. He would do everything, everything he could to stay alive, to stay with his little brother.

I'll be here for you, Sammy. No matter what. After all, it's family, Sam. And family sticks together.

The End