The rest of the night passed a little more smoothly. Sam slept for a couple hours, then woke somewhat startled, but not completely freaked out which Dean counted as a plus.

Dean was dozing up against the headboard. He sleepily opened his eyes upon hearing Sam's quick intake of breath. He moved his hand up and ruffled Sam's hair. "Hey, buddy," he whispered. "You ok?"

Sam blinked at him in the dim light that leaked in from the hallway. "Dean?"

Dean rubbed his shoulder. "I'm still here. Bad dream?"

Sam nodded and swallowed, looking confused and completely exhausted. "Why are... am I sick?"

"Yeah, you're sick, kiddo... c'mon, it's ok, Sammy. Just go back to sleep." Dean guided Sam's head back down to his shoulder and yawned, keeping his arm around him. "I'm right here."

He felt Sam relax and curl in closer beside him. His heart sank as the sleep began to clear from his mind a bit, and he remembered the gravity of their situation. He mustered his confidence for Sam. "That's it... you're ok. Just rest."

Sam stirred a couple more times that night, but settled right back down once he realized Dean was still beside him. Dean dosed him up with more Tylenol each time he woke up if enough time had passed. The first indication he had that things might actually be improving was Sam giving him a sleepy bitch-face around 4 in the morning when he suggested the most recent dose of Tylenol.

At around 8:30, Dean woke up from his own dream. He was being crushed to death under a pile of rocks in the hot sun of the Sahara Desert, and bugs were crawling up the side of his hip. He woke with a gasp, blinking with confusion when he found he could still barely breathe. Sam was sleeping soundly with his head and shoulders on Dean's chest and his arm stretched over him, still radiating heat. Then Dean felt the vibration in his pocket from his cell phone. With a groan, he tried to gently move his gigantic brother off of him.

"Uuugghh... Sammy..." It was like trying to move a tranquilized bear. Once he had extracted himself from the tangle of Little Brother, the first few deep breaths were a bit painful as Dean stretched out his cramped muscles and slightly compressed ribcage.

Sam barely stirred.

The cell phone buzzed again. He sighed heavily, having had about 45 minutes of actual sleep. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, then opened it.

"Hang on, Kevin," he whispered.

He got up carefully, feeling Sam's forehead before leaving to take the call. He still felt warm, but not dangerously so. And he was sleeping a little more sprawled out than he had been. When Sam was really, really sick, he slept curled in a tight ball like a dead bug. Dean was cautiously pleased. He walked quietly into the hall and brought the cell phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Kevin. Where ya been? Haven't heard from you in a few days," he said, heading towards the kitchen.

"I know, I got the flu! Got it pretty bad."

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "The flu- wait. What?"

"Yeah, I couldn't get out of bed the past couple days-"

"The flu... " Dean repeated, processing.

"Yeah, I started feeling funny the day I left your place, and by the time I got over the state line I couldn't stay awake. I'm just meeting up with Garth now, but it sounds like the lead is going to be a bust."

"The flu! That is awesome!"

"What? No, it was not awesome at all," Kevin said indignantly. "That was like the sickest I've ever been! I could barely move!"

Dean was laughing. "Sorry, sorry, I know. I don't mean... are you ok?"

"Yeah, now. But why I called was because I just wanted to tell you that... I, uh, kind of ran up a bit of a tab on the card you gave me. I had to stay over at a motel for a few days before I was able to meet with Garth, and when I could finally eat again I was still too tired to get up-"

"Room service and the million dollar mini-fridge?"

"Yeah... sorry. Do you know how much they charge for a freaking water?"

Dean laughed. "The flu. I can't believe it. Kevin, you do what ever you need to do. Just feel better and get your ass back here when you can. Listen, I'll call you later, I gotta take care of something, ok?"

"Yeah, uh...ok. Thanks, Dean."

Dean grinned and hung up. He continued on to the kitchen for some breakfast and some juice to bring back to Sam.

He let Sam sleep for another hour, but then decided he'd better get some more Tylenol into the kid and keep the fever down. Plus, he was looking forward to telling Sam it was only the flu. This was going to be fun.

Sam was sprawled face down on his bed, long legs tangled in the sheets. Dean put a hand gently on Sam's back. "Sammy?"

Sam stirred and turned to stare sleepily up at Dean.

"Hey, Sammy. You ready for some more medicine?"

Sam nodded and dragged himself up against the pillows.

Dean handed him a coupe of pills and a glass of juice.

Sam swallowed the pills and took a drink as Dean masked a grin. "So... uh, I just talked to Kevin. And I... I think we figured out what's wrong with you." Dean's stomach was flipping as he tried not only to stay deadly serious, but also to keep from laughing.

"Ok," Sam said as he put on his mask of calm, but Dean could tell he was a little freaked.

Oh, this kid is so easy to mess with when he's sick, Dean thought. He took the glass out of Sam's hand and set it on the night stand. He ran a hand over his face and studied the floor as he pretended to think about how to break the news to Sam. Then he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and regarded him with the most serious, concerned look he could muster. He wondered for a moment if he could drum up a few tears. That would just ice the cake... "I don't... I don't know how to tell you this, Sammy."

"What?" Sam's eyebrows rose up behind his bangs.

Dean shook his head again, looking away from Sam, mostly because he was about to lose it, but it also provided the dramatic effect he was going for.

"Dean, whatever it is," Sam said sounding frantic, "whatever happens, you have to promise me-"

Dean held up his hand to stop Sam's rambling, but Sam was having none of it.

"No! You promise me right now, you're not going to do anything stupid, Dean."

Ouch. Figures, Dean thought. He's about to hear about a horrible illness and the kid's worried more about me than himself. "When have I ever done anything stupid?" Dean asked, trying to sound as offended as he possibly could.

Sam stammered, clearly confused. By what though, Dean wasn't sure. Whether it was choosing from the long list of stupid things Dean had done or trying to figure out why this dreadfully grave discussion had suddenly taken on a different tone, he couldn't be certain. Probably a little bit of both, he decided.

"Look," Dean said picking up one of the pillows, fluffing it slightly and forcing a look of over dramatized sorrow. "I've given it some thought. It's bad, Sammy... I- I think it might be best if I just... if I just put you out of your misery."

Sam stared at him as Dean slowly raised the pillow and gently began to lower it over Sam's face. Annoyed, Sam swatted the pillow away weakly. "Dean, what the hell?"

A tiny bit of a grin broke through Dean's facade. "What, you don't think I'd really do it? It's for your own good, bro. And probably mine."

Sam just gave him one of his looks and Dean broke out into laughter. He flopped down on the bed so he was lying across Sam's legs and propped himself up on his elbow.

Sam just continued to stare at him. Dean could tell he was completely exhausted... probably too exhausted to really understand that something was going on from the look of almost hurt confusion on his face. Dean decided he'd better wrap up his game. "You've got no sense of humor, you know that?"

"Sense of – what? Dean-" Sam stammered.

Dean held up a hand. "All right, all right. You want to know what's up? You, my gigantic friend, have- are you ready for this? The flu."

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

Dean nodded. "The fluuuu," he whispered.

Sam regarded him suspiciously for a moment. "How do you-"

"Because Kevin has the flu. And you two spent a whole day together cooped up in that library sharing research and apparently, germs right before he left. You have the flu, Sam. It's just the flu!"

Sam's expression neutralized into something Dean couldn't read, but he could see the slight and sudden flush in his cheeks. "Uhh... oh." There was a long pause and then Sam's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the pillow away from Dean and hit him with it. "You're a friggin' jerk!"

Dean threw his head back and laughed out loud. When he finally looked back at Sam, Sam was biting his lip and peering at Dean from under the floppy hair that was hanging in front of his eyes. He was smiling sheepishly and shaking his head. "I feel like a total idiot."

"Ohhhhh, Sammy." Dean said, still laughing as he slapped a hand down on Sam's knee. And something inside of Sam warmed at the sound of his brother's laughter. He suddenly realized how deeply he had missed it.

"If I wasn't so relieved," Dean confessed, "I'd run with this a while just to mess with you, but the truth is, we both headed straight to Panic Street at the first sign of trouble. We did not pass Go and we will not be collecting our $200." It was true. Part of him knew it would have been the easiest thing in the world to let Sam believe that he was the only one that had over-reacted. But Dean had panicked too. He had not even entertained for a second that this could be anything other than a life threatening disaster.

Sam covered his face, somewhat mortified, but relieved that Dean was sharing this burden instead of poking fun at him. "We totally freaked. Kind of... not like us, huh?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I don't know. I guess we get so used to things going horribly wrong. And, these last few months, I don't know, they just... sucked. I think we earned a free pass, don't you?"

Sam looked up at him gratefully.

"Now, I'll be honest. I'm still nervous about letting my guard down, but I think maybe we are out of the woods with you. I think you're gonna be ok, Sam." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "Man. Who would have ever thought that a Winchester could have something as simple as the flu?"

Sam grinned at him then. Full on dimpled grin, and Dean's heart melted.

"I still feel like crap."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do, but the Tylenol's working. Your fever's not gone, but it's down. Tylenol didn't work on 'Trial Sickness'."

Sam yawned and ran a hand sleepily through his hair. "No, it definitely didn't."

"Now, all joking aside," Dean warned, standing up and nudging Sam down to the pillow he was putting behind his head. "The flu can be dangerous,"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, for old people and babies."

"You're a baby." Dean stated, matter-of-factly.

Sam punched him. "You're a baby!"

"Ow!" Dean laughed and pinned Sam's arms easily to the bed. Too easily, he thought ruefully. The kid was wiped out. "You are the baby brother. And you need to be careful with this. The flu can be dangerous for people with weakened immune systems and we don't know that you're back to normal yet."

Sam's eye lids drooped and he let out a bit of a laugh, his energy clearly gone. "Fine."

"Oh, see, now I know this is serious," Dean said standing up again. "You never give in that quickly."

Sam just looked at him through half closed eyelids. "Can' keep my eyes open 'nymore..." he slurred.

Dean smiled and pushed his hair back. "Don't. I'm going to go get you some more Gatorade and some crackers, ok? Sam?"

Sam was already out. He slept peacefully for most of the day.


Writer's note:

A couple more chapters to go... I'm going to take this into the Christmas season because I would enjoy seeing another Supernatural Christmas episode. Would love to hear your thoughts if you have a moment to leave a comment! Thanks!