He was trying to shift without waking Sam, whose fifteen minutes were way past. Dean snuffled, sneezing again into his pillow. A little brother snoring in his ear had been too hard for Dean to resist and he'd fallen back asleep but the extra snooze hadn't helped. He still felt feverish, sore and achy, like he'd been sick or run over by a…wait, according to Sam, he had.

Dean frowned as he peered over his soggy, wet shoulder. Sam was down for the count, his face smashed against Dean's back, slightly congested snoring echoing from his open mouth as drool pooled on Dean's t-shirt.

Dean rolled his eyes, stifling another sneeze. His headache wasn't really any better, but apparently now was not a good time, this first Thursday after T-Day, to mention any type of health issue. Congestion, colds or any type of physical ailment would not be discussed. Given Sam's current Post-Tuesday state of agitation, they'd end up in the ER before Dean could blow his nose.

It was dark out for so late in the morning, the drumming of heavy rain muffled against the hotel door. Dean dropped his face back into the pillow. It didn't matter. They had no place to be. Another day or two, see how Sam was doing, if big brother could fix this. Dean was willing to do whatever it took to get that panic stricken look off Sam's face whenever Dean left his sight, or tried to. Like when he had to pee, an activity which Dean had to explain was NOT for groups. They were also running out of paper bags for Sam to breathe into cause Dean forgot to tell him he was getting the extra shells from the car.

Sam rolled slightly, squashing Dean further into the mattress, tightening his grip around Dean's waist. Dean snorted, biting his lip, suddenly straining not to laugh as he was still trapped inside the blanket and Sam's fingers were still nestled under him, every movement had them poking and prodding right into Dean's ribs.

A sudden hitch of breath, followed by a mournful moan in his ear and Dean wasn't laughing anymore. Sam's fingers frantically grasped at him, pulling and holding hard. "Shit", Dean cursed, Sam was having a nightmare. He struggled to get loose of the blanket, but Sam was too much weight, too much awkward, frantic movement. Sam was sobbing now, his arms wracked tight against Dean's chest, yanking him upwards even as his shaking head knocked against Dean's back and a broken, childlike- voice incessantly muttering " no, Dean, no, no, no…".

"Sam! Sam, wake up!"

An anguished wail seared the air and Dean was suddenly pulled up off the mattress as Sam's slumbering grief echoed in the dingy room and translated into fight or flight mode. Sam gripped Dean tight as the mattress became more unstable beneath them. Dean was too tangled in the sheets and blankets, he couldn't fight against Sam's increasingly panicked movements or the wobbling bed and frame. Their momentum continued as Sam pulled him higher, and Dean realized he couldn't feel the mattress anymore and he was suddenly watching the ceiling fly by overhead.

"Oh crap!"

A resounding double thud and the room went silent, except for the muttered "Son of a bitch."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Sam opened his eyes, groaning. He was half covered in a blanket and sprawled on the floor.

Sam frowned; staring down at his own two sock covered feet, then at the other foot sticking out from under the covers and currently jammed into his ribcage. His eyes flew open.

"Dean!"

Reaching up, Dean pulled the blankets off his head. He smiled at his little brother.

"Your Woobie awaits."

Face red, looking away, Sam fumbled to his feet. Tripping over Dean and falling onto the bed, he rolled off the far side. The sound of Dean's laughter followed Sam into the bathroom as he slammed the door.