Author's Note: Inspired by Dean's line, "You want me to do the whole airplane thing with the spoon?" in the preview scene for "The Great Escapist" but there are no spoilers for that episode. Spoilers for the rest of season 8 are here towards the end of this story. What can I say? I'm a sucker for sick!Sam. So, I hope you enjoy!

October 30th, 1983

"Mommy?"

Mary turned around, gently rocking Sam as the nearly six-month old cried in her arms. Food was stained his shirt as well as Mary's dress, but at this point, the mother of two couldn't really get herself to care. All she wanted—all she needed—was for her youngest to stop being so fussy when it came to his food and eat.

Sam—already so fiercely independent and God, she was not looking forward to when he became a teenager because she was certain that she and John would have their hands full—refused to accept any morsel of the baby food that came near him. Instead, he preferred to fling it away and now, had taken to sobbing his eyes out.

"Sammy, it's okay," Mary soothed automatically as Sam continued to wail, though she was nearing her wits end. She had heard about some babies being extremely fussy when it came to eating, but Dean had never given her any trouble so she had foolishly assumed Sam would follow his older brother's example. "I've got you."

"Mommy," Her eyes snapped to where oldest was standing, demanding her attention. Dean stood there, dressed in his adorable, "I Wuv Hugs" shirt that always brought a grin to Mary's lips. His eyes; however were filled with nothing but sheer determination that befitted a man and not a four year old. It amused her to no end how Dean believed that he knew best when it came to Sam and his wellbeing. He had taken to his job of being an older brother marvelously, though at times, his insistence that he knew what was best for Sam and no one—not Mary nor John—could tell him otherwise did occasionally grate at her nerves. "Mommy, you're doing it wrong."

Mary blinked.

"What?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes and Mary almost balked as her eldest simply walked up to her and held his hands out, silently demanding that she relinquish her hold over Sam. She did so, though was confused to no end. Sam quieted in his brother's arms and Dean gently placed him down on the floor before grabbing the spoon and the bottle of food.

"Watch me," He instructed Mary sharply and she nodded. He grinned at Sam and the youngest Winchester focused his eyes on his brother's. "Sammy, look, airplane!" With that, Dean waved the spoon around, making airplane noises until Sam was gurgling with contentment. Then, so suddenly that Mary almost thought she imagined it, the spoon was in Sam's mouth. She watched with wide eyes as Sam began to eat.

Then, with a satisfied grin on his face, Dean handed the spoon to Mary.

"You've gotta make it fun for him, Mommy, like you used to do for me."

Mary just nodded as she grinned.

"Dean, you are the best big brother ever." He grinned and she scooped both of her boys up in a huge hug.

She was the luckiest mother in the world.

May 20th, 1991

John frowned as he felt his eight-year-old son's forehead, grimacing as the heat of fever warmed his palm. There was no denying it now, Sam was sick. Luckily, it didn't look like anything serious, just a cold or a touch of the flu, but it was enough to give the father pause before embarking on his hunt tonight.

"Daddy?" Sam rasped and the decision was made. He wasn't hunting for the spirit tonight, not when Sam had no way of truly defending himself yet. Only recently had the father begun to instruct Sam on how to use a gun and he wasn't entirely confident could shoot as well as his older brother.

"You're sick, kiddo." John soothed, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

"I miss Dean." His youngest sniffed pathetically and sympathy coursed through John's veins. Dean was at Bobby's though, doing a bit of training and would not be back for two more days at least.

Leaving John in charge of a sick Sam.

He could handle this though. It wasn't like he needed Dean to do everything when it came to taking care of Sam. He could deal with this, really.

"I know, Sammy," John told him gently. "I know you do." Sam shivered and wrapped the worn blue blanket around his shoulders. John grimaced and then straightened up, glancing at the kitchen. He wasn't the best chef, but there was one thing that he had managed to memorize by heart.

"Daddy?" Sam had followed his gaze towards the kitchen and seemed more curious than anything now.

"Go sit down," John ordered gently, pointing towards the table. "I'll make you some soup."

"You're making soup?" Sam echoed incredulously.

"Yeah," The eldest Winchester replied simply. "Now, go sit down." Facing the kitchen, John dug out a well-worn pot and filled it with the beginnings of the soup that he was about to make. He could feel Sam's eyes on him and John secretly hoped that this recipe was the same as he remembered it. It had been years since he had made his mom's famous cure all soup, the one she had used to feed him whenever he had been sick. Still, it had done the trick and hopefully it would work its magic over Sam because honestly, John hated seeing him bogged down by illness, his eyes glazed over by fever.

"Is it ready yet?" Sam called and John nodded, pleased as the soup finally came to a boil. He killed the heat and ladled some of the liquid out of the pot and into the bowl. Grabbing a spoon, he placed both in front of Sam and waited for his youngest to take a bite.

Sam didn't move.

"Dig in, Sam." John encouraged, but his youngest simply picked up his spoon and swirled it around in the soup. Had Sam always been this fussy to eating when he had been sick? A dim memory of Mary feeding Sam filled his mind and he bit his lip, using the pain to replace the grief that had swelled up. Still, she had a way of dealing with Sam and his problems eating. John wasn't sure if his attempt to duplicate her would bring results but it was worth a try, right?

Gently, John pulled the spoon away from Sam and filled it a bit with liquid. Then, he held the spoon by Sam's mouth, summoned a smile on his lips and said,

"Open up, here comes the airplane."

For a second, he held his breath and waited.

Then, Sam grinned and opened his mouth. Relieved, John handed him the spoon and watched proudly as the youngest Winchester scarfed down the rest of the soup.

Looks like Mary had saved him once again.

April 15th, 2003

"You're being ridiculous!" Jessica exclaimed.

"Am not," Sam wheezed, before coughing into his sleeve. He was bundled up on her couch, hair damp with sweat and bundled up in a sweatshirt that was two sizes too big for him. "S'just a cold, Jess." He tried to reassure her with a smile, but he quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Jessica frowned, clearly unhappy with this situation. Sam—being the typical stubborn guy that he was—had refused to go to the school clinic. So, here she was, trying to talk some sense into her boyfriend of almost a year and finding that she was losing her patience.

"Sam—"

"M'fine," He slurred, rubbing at his eyes. She had heard from Brady that Sam had been up half the night practically hacking up a lung and she knew that he needed some rest. "S'okay."

She should drag him to the clinic because that rattling cough was a not a sign of a normal cold. He wouldn't be able to fight her off. At this point, Jessica doubted he'd even be able to walk across the room alone.

"I . . ."

Then, his eyes meet hers.

And she caved.

How could she not give in when he was giving her those adorable puppy dog eyes? God, if she didn't know Sam better, she would've assumed he used those eyes to get his way far too often, because only a heartless person could refuse him when he looked at them like that.

"Oh, fine," Jessica huffed and Sam grinned. "But you are taking a nap while I make some soup, okay?" He nodded his head and laid down. She smiled softly, before tucking in his blanket around him. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she marveled at how much she loved this man.

Sam Winchester was her match, of that she was certain.

They were meant to be.

Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she searched through the cabinets. Despite the fact that Brady told her that he had just picked up some groceries, Jess could only find one can of soup. She frowned—she had hoped to make something fresh—but opened the can and poured it into the pot. While waiting for it to come to a boil, she let her gaze drift to Sam, sleeping soundly still. He looked so peaceful when he slept, like another person entirely. He went through his days carrying this burden on his shoulders, a burden that he would not share with her. It had something to do with his family, but whenever she had tried to talk to Sam about it, he had cut her off with a, "It's not important, Jess."

One day, she would find out the truth.

But for today, she had to focus on getting Sam well.

After loading a small tray with a bowl of soup, a spoon, some milk and a napkin, she moved towards the couch, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of it.

"Sam?" She shook him gently and muddy hazel eyes met her. She beamed down at them, assuring him that he was okay. "Ready for some soup?" He shook his head and she sighed. "Sorry, Sam, but you need to eat something." He opened his mouth ready to protest. "Unless you want to be sensible and go see the doctor?"

"No." He sat up and she grinned. His hand shook as he picked up the spoon and she deftly took it from him, before filing the spoon with some of the soup.

"Open up for the airplane." She joked, but something unknown to her flashed on his face for a few seconds before vanishing under an expression of gratefulness. He opened his mouth and she fed him.

"Thanks, Jess."

"You're welcome."

God, she loved Sam Winchester.

April 27th, 2013

Sam, huddled up in his blanket, watched his brother with slight apprehension as his brother cooked in the kitchen. They were supposed to be looking for Kevin and yet for the past few days, all his older brother had been doing was hovering while Sam did research.

So yeah, maybe he did feel crappier than usual.

Okay, maybe he was coughing up blood more frequently than normal.

And fine, he did almost pass out when Charlie had been here.

But really, he was fine.

"Hungry, Sammy?" Dean called from the kitchen and the youngest Winchester resisted the urge to sigh. The last time he had sighed, he'd been coughing for about two minutes straight and he was not in a hurry to relive that again.

"No." Sam called back, his voice weaker than he would've liked.

"Too bad." Dean retorted and the youngest brother wondered why he bothered. Dean was just going to do what he thought was best, even though Sam knew that all of their attention should be focused on finding Kevin and finishing the trials. "Here we go."

"What?" The eldest Winchester placed down a bowl of what looked to be oatmeal and Sam grimaced. His stomach refused to keep anything down and honestly, he wasn't hungry.

"Eat up, Sammy." Dean casually sat down across from him, eyes locked on the spoon.

"I'm not hungry." He flipped the page, only for the book to be taken out of his grasp and the bowl pushed forward.

"Not up for discussion." Dean replied nonchalantly. Sam glared at him, but the expression tired him out and soon he found his gaze just locked on the bowl. He was so tired and despite the fact that he had only been up for about an hour, he wanted nothing more but to go back to bed.

"Dean—"

"Eat, Sammy, please." His brother's voice was laced with concern and that spurred Sam to at least pick up the spoon. The thought of eating; however, repulsed him and he put the spoon back down only for Dean to pick it up himself and scoop a little bit of oatmeal onto it.

"What—?"

"Look, Sammy," Dean began with a smile, though his eyes were filled with nothing but grief. "Airplane." He made plane noises and a wave of nostalgia ran through him.

He wasn't hungry and he would rather not eat, but for Dean's sake, he opened his mouth and let himself be fed that first bite. Relief was evident on his brother's face and Sam shakily took the spoon from him.

"Dude, I'm not five." Sam teased weakly, beginning to eat in earnest. Dean relaxed his posture slightly and smirked.

"You sure about that, Sammy?" It was a pathetic retort compared to his older brother's usual fare, but under the circumstances, the youngest Winchester would take it.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" His brother leaned in, ready to dash off to grab anything should Sam require it.

"Thanks."

And for the first time since the trials began, an honest to God smile full of nothing but joy appeared on his brother's face.

"Anytime, Sammy."

Author's Note: So, there we go! I hope you liked it! I had a really fun time writing it. Please review if you have a second.