Author's Note: Happy belated birthday to Mad Server. (I'm really late...)

E/O Challenge: Dean has a fever.

----------------

Sam was juggling seven books in his arms as he opened the motel room door. He nearly dropped them as he balanced the books with one arm and turned the key with the other.

He swore as one slipped off the pile and landed in a shallow puddle of muddy water from the rainstorm a couple hours before. The sky was gloomy, dark, and only hints of light appeared from their haze.

Once the door was open, he threw the remaining pile on the carpet before going back to pick up the fallen book by the corner, frowning as the water dripped from wet pages.

Luckily, they'd registered for the library cards under a false name. He could only imagine what the obscure reference book would cost. Walking into the room he shared with his brother, he was annoyed to find Dean sleeping on the couch.

He'd left to go to the library at 7:00am, waking his brother up before he left with the understanding that Dean would be dressed, fed, and ready for the upcoming hunt. From his observations, it seemed that Dean had only managed the first of the three before falling asleep again.

He glanced at the clock. It was noon; even on his worst days, Dean wasn't the type to sleep in past ten a.m.

Sam smirked, remembering their prank-wars, before throwing the heavy books on the table with a loud bang. Just as he'd predicted, Dean jumped up from his deep sleep and let out a yell.

He blearily stared at his little brother, then relaxed... all the way down to the floor.

Initially, Sam laughed at the look his brother gave him. The expression quickly turned to horror as he saw Dean fall to the carpet; his head thudded against the couch cushion before slipping off to hit the floor.

"Dean!" Sam screamed, running towards him. He gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Dean, Dean! Wake up, man!" Sam tapped his face, then quickly removed his hand. His fingers had come away wet. Dean's forehead and upper lip were dotted with sweat. "Shit, why the hell didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Sam slipped his legs under his brother's torso, bracing them both in order to lift Dean back onto the couch. Once he was somewhat settled, Sam ran to their bathroom and grabbed their first aid kit. He fished around for a thermometer then went back to his brother.

Tilting his face, and gently pressing against his jaw, Sam was able to slip the plastic between his lips and under his tongue. Thankfully, the device beeped after thirty seconds giving him the already assumed answer. 102.8 degree fever. High, but not emergency room high.

He poured out a couple tablets of acetaminophen into his hand, and grabbed a bottle of water from the tiny motel fridge. The cap opened with a slight hiss and the seal was broken. He lifted Dean's shoulders, and let his head rest against his chest as he pushed the tablets into his mouth, and quickly followed with the water. It forced Dean to swallow the pills with a sputter, then a big gulp.

Dean was quickly settled back into a more comfortable position, a light blanket thrown over his legs and torso.

Sam went back to the bathroom, damping a wash cloth then gently placing it on his brother's forehead.

Once he deemed the older man was resting comfortably, Sam went over to the table and picked up the phone.

"Bobby," he started, "Its Sam. I have a favor to ask. The hunt in Fredricksburg? You think you can handle it? I've already done all of the research, just need someone to do the leg-work. Dean's caught himself the flu. He's completely out of it."

Sam smiled as Bobby immediately agreed. "Thanks Bobby. We owe you." He hung up the phone and looked back at his brother.

Dean had turned on his side and started drooling small puddles on the pillow. A soft snore escaped, caused by his congestion.

Sam sighed, "It's going to be a long day."