Thankful For a Brother Like You

Chapter 2

"Pastor Jim? It's…Dean. I…Sammy…we need your help."

The late night phone call hadn't surprised him since he'd gotten used to those over the years in both his occupations. The request for help also hadn't come as a surprise since as both a Pastor and a hunter he'd often been asked to give aid, shelter, food and much more to those needy souls who sought him out.

What did surprise Jim Murphy when he recognized the phone number on his Caller ID was the quietness of the voice that asked him for his help.

He'd known that eventually he'd be getting a call from one of the Winchesters as soon as he'd talked to Jefferson the other day and by the tone of voice Sam had when he last spoke with the boy but he honestly hadn't been expecting to pick up his phone to hear Dean asking for help in the same hesitant, unsure voice he'd used back when he'd been a teenager and his little brother had been hurt.

Fully awake by this point and having taken the time to pinpoint the boys location, Jim knew about how long he had to prepare even though he could only guess what he was preparing for.

Jim Murphy had been a man of the Lord before he became a hunter of the supernatural, of the weird and sometimes even of the undead. These days he tended to stick closer to his roots in Blue Earth, Montana so he could still do his weekly sermon but he still clearly recalled the days when he'd go around the country hunting things and it had been on one such trip that he literally tripped over a new to the game hunter by the name of John Winchester.

He'd read the man easily enough. He had the raw talent and drive to be a successful hunter but Jim had also learned two other things about John that night. He was clearly obsessed with finding what had killed his wife and he was driving around the country doing so with his two young sons in the back seat of that 1967 black Chevy Impala.

"Stubborn Winchesters," he muttered with a small smile as he also remembered his fondness for the two boys were often the only thing that kept him from turning his back on John a few times. This time from what he'd been hearing of John's escapades it might be harder not to though right then Jim's number one concern was helping Dean and Sam.

He'd just finished preparing the one larger guest room downstairs of his home since from the noise in the background of Dean's call and how tired the older Winchester still sounded that it wouldn't be wise to try to get either of them upstairs.

Laying fresh towels out while finding the big medical kit, Jim had just turned the bed down and lit a fire in the stone fireplace of that room when he heard the unforgettable sound of that same Chevy Impala he'd heard the first time he'd met John.

Grabbing a coat before he went out the door, the Pastor turned hunter was glad it had quit raining and snowing that morning since he did not want to handle two sick Winchesters. 'Been there, done that,' he thought to himself, stepping off the final step and was halfway to the car when he saw Dean exit the car. That was when he knew he'd woefully underestimated this situation.

Dean had always been the strong one. The one of John's sons that followed every order or directive given without question…or at least very few questions and he was the one who covered up bruises, wounds or injuries the best so the moment Jim noticed him leaning into the car as if in support he knew that no matter how healed his heart might have gotten the boy was still sick himself but willing to cover it for his brother's sake.

"Hey, Pastor Jim," he threw a wave as if just noticing the older man then made a quick move to catch the back door of the Impala before it was slammed open. "Hey, you hurt this car and after I make sure you're well again I'm making you detail her," he snapped, barely avoiding the blindly thrown fist then dove inside as if fighting to control someone and in same way Jim guessed he was.

Hurrying the rest of the way to the Impala, Jim saw a scene that wasn't totally unfamiliar to him since he'd broken up several scuffles between the Winchester brothers when they'd been younger. This time though it was plain that Dean was actually struggling to restrain his fevered brother since it was now much harder to hold onto Sam since he was four inches taller than his older brother and wiry.

"You…let go…" Sam mumbled, struggling to get out of the car but in his haste to escape whatever was in his mind he allowed the strong grip holding him to slip around his neck in a modified choke hold but instead of feeling the grip tighten enough to choke him he felt long cool fingers push back his hair.

"Yeah, I'll let go the moment you stop trying to kill us both," Dean shot back, grabbing for the hand that was moving to reach back to poke or hit and pressing under his against Sam's heaving chest. "We're at Pastor Jim's, Sammy and Jim's gonna ground your ass for acting like a brat if you don't stop this crap."

Lifting a brow at that comment, Jim went around to the open door to lean in. "Need a hand, Dean?" he asked casually, managing to keep the shock off his face when he not only noticed how tired Dean still seemed but how bad Sam looked and knew by the way he was fighting that his fever was way too high for aspirin to help. "How bad?"

"When I talked to you…ugh…he was really fevered but since then it's spiked and twice I had to stop until I got him calmed down but this time…he's really freaking out," Dean wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the open handed slap that struck him in the temple and had to fight to remember that Sam was too sick and tired to know who he was with right then. "Want the full story now or…Sammy, I love you but if you hit me one more damn time…"

"Get offa me," Sam snapped then blinked at the feel of a different hand catching his twisting head to lift it up while a bright light flashed in one eye. "Hey!"

"No concussion but his pupils are blown," Jim wasn't sure he liked that but chose to handle that later as he reached in with a much stronger grip than most people expected out of him to take hold of one of Sam's flailing arms. "Come on out of there, Sam. Time to get you in the house and start getting this fever down. Sam? Do you know where you are?" he asked louder than usual to be sure he was heard. "Do you know who I am?"

The new voice managed to slow the fevered young hunter down as he blinked a few times to gaze at the older man before a glimmer of recognition hit him. "Pastor…Jim," he mumbled, suddenly tired and just wanted his brother before he slept. "I…don' feel so good…Sir."

"I know you don't, Sam," Jim replied with a gentle smile, nodding to Dean to let his brother go so he could help the boy out of the Impala then had to make a fast grab when both of Sam's legs seemed to buckle. "What's been going on, Dean?" he demanded, having dealt with both boys in varying stages of illness or injury and not recalling seeing Sam this weak or worn down before. "I know you got hurt…fried if I go by Caleb, and Jeff gave Sam a tip but…"

"Yeah, that tip took us face to face with a blind faith healer whole wife was working some heavy duty binding magic on an actual Reaper of death," Dean snorted, still sour on that whole deal which was made worse every time he thought of Layla's illness. "We saved the innocent but it doesn't feel like a win when I think of Layla's cancer and she could've been saved if we had left well enough alone or…"

"Or you could be or some other innocent person whose only crime was to not fit in Sue Ellen Le Grange's idea of a perfect person," Jim had actually gotten the story from Jefferson so he knew about the Reaper and the girl's terminal illness so it didn't shock him how Dean was feeling. He'd known that beneath the stoic and sarcastic exterior John's oldest carried emotions that had almost always been as deep if not more so than his brother.

Guessing he should've known that would be the Pastor's reply, Dean stepped up to steady his already off balance sibling before Sam's height and weight difference could knock both him and Jim to the cold ground. "He was coughing a little before that job and from what I can see he must've stopped sleeping after I was hurt," he steadied Sam while Jim got the door open then eyed the steps which he'd always hated maneuvering his brother up when sick only to see Jim point to the downstairs guest room.

"Okay, good thought," he mumbled, realizing he was tired when he hadn't even considered keeping Sam downstairs. "He's also been taking these again," Dean tossed the bottle of pills onto the dresser as he carefully eased his temporarily sleeping brother onto the bed while hearing the water begin to run in the adjoining bathroom and winced. "God, I hate this part."

"I know but we need him cool and he's been running that fever for too long to try to wait it out," Jim replied after he'd dumped two buckets of ice into the already cold water to step back into the room to see Dean kneeling beside the bed as if just watching Sam. "Dean? Why did Sam take these?"

The over the counter pills were less bothersome to him than if they'd been street drugs meant to keep a person awake but still Jim couldn't see Sam Winchester taking anything like that unless… "He got scared and manic and…"

"And needed to stay awake first to find a way to save me and then I guess to make sure I was alright," Dean vowed to seriously ground his smarter than this brother once he was awake and healthy again. "It's not the first time, Jim."

"Oh, I so don't think I want to hear this," the Pastor sighed, then went to work on undressing Sam from the heavy bulky clothes before trying the ice bath that from past experience probably would end up with bruises all around. "Tell me after you've showered and changed upstairs."

That suggestion had an instant negative reaction in Dean who was shaking his head even as his hand was closing over the one Sam had fisted on the bed. "Huh-uh, you know I don't leave Sammy when he's sick, Jim," he argued, unaware of how close to panic he was at the very thought of leaving his little brother in someone else's care…even if it was a long time friend like Jim Murphy. "Besides, he's gone all Sasquatch and could put you down in…ow, ow, ow…Jim, let go."

"I've been holding my own with people bigger than your brother since before you were a blink in John's eye, Dean," Jim returned firmly after he took a firm hold of the ear closest to him and tugging it like he'd done very infrequently when this young man had been a small boy. "Now get upstairs, take a shower, change into something clean and not wet, grab one of those sandwiches in the kitchen and then he can sit with Sam and tell me what the hell has been going on."

Hating to be bossed around by anyone, Dean accepted when he was outgunned and respected Jim enough to know that he was just trying to do what was best for him and Sam both so with a look that told Jim where Sam had learned that bitch face he slowly went to do as he'd been ordered.

"Yep, I see a lot of John in Dean's stubbornness," he told himself with a chuckle then prepared for the all out war that would happen as soon as Sam's fevered and achy body hit cold water.

The shower took no time at all since Dean was in a hurry to get back to Sam and Jim. He paused when deciding between his normal T-shirt and jeans and that hooded sweatshirt he'd been wearing while sick. Deciding to stick with the T-shirt and long sleeved button down flannel, Dean was sitting on the bed to tie his boots when his gaze fell on his phone and before he knew what his fingers were doing he found himself dialing a number he knew by heart.

"Dad…it's me. Look, I know Sammy called you about me…dying and well, I guess you can tell I got better. No need for a call or a card or anything," he heard the sarcasm in his own voice but ignored it while eyeing a photo of when he and Sam had been smaller and Sam still had a belief in their Dad. "Anyway, I know I called you in Lawrence before we went after what was in our old house…if I said we saw Mom's spirit would that earn at least a freakin' call-back? No? Anyway," he paused a second when he heard a shout, a crash and something breaking from downstairs and guessed Jim still had things under control since no weapons had been shot off yet.

"Sam got sick while trying to help me, Dad," Dean closed his eyes against the pictures of seeing his 6'4" baby brother curled on the back seat of the Impala like he would as a toddler. "He got scared and sick because I was hurt and he was alone…again. I don't care if you don't call me back, or if you won't let us find you but the least you could've done was call Sammy back to let him know that he wasn't alone in this…that we still had a Father who gave a damn and…ouch, I hope that wasn't Jim," he heard a louder noise this time. "We're with Pastor Jim in case you care to check in or if you're interested, Dad. I…I have to go look after Sammy now. Bye."

Tossing the phone aside with more force than he intended, Dean grabbed some stuff from Sam's duffel that he knew on instinct they'd need then headed downstairs just in time to grab his half clad, soaking wet and shaking baby brother before he made a run for the front door.

"Hey, Streak, where the hell're you going?" he knew this would happen if he wasn't around when Sam woke up in the water. Stepping around the fist that was aimed where his voice had been, Dean made a single grab to catch Sam around the shoulders and turn him back to the bedroom. "Where's Pastor Jim, Sammy?"

The fear and panic he'd woken up to had lessened the moment he heard Dean's voice but he still tensed when he laid down, latching onto his brother's arm. "Don't die, De'n?"

"Sammy, I told you I'm fine and I am," Dean tried to reassure his brother, looking up to see Jim wiping blood from his mouth. "Told you he's sneaky,"

"He learned from you so I know that," Jim countered, holding out some pills that he hoped would help. "You know this is more than just a cold, don't you?"

Feeling Sam shaking even as his body still burned with a fever that was close to scaring Dean, he slowly nodded while coaxing the medication down his sick and more than normally stubborn brother before moving to sit up against the headboard so he'd be close to Sam.

"I'm guessing he took too many of these babies at one time, has been running on fumes for days with probably little to no food on his stomach so he crashing hard," Dean lifted tired eyes to gaze at his friend. "Am I close?"

Pulling a chair closer to the bed, Jim examined the pills Sam had been taking to keep him awake. "If he's been taking these since the night you got hurt then yeah, he's probably in for some rough roads ahead but…you said this wasn't the first time."

"His second year at Stanford," Dean sighed, carding his fingers back through Sam's hair like he used to do when he'd been small and sick while thinking back. "The way I got the story…okay, the way Caleb got the story since he wouldn't let me near the little prick who fed the damn things to my baby brother, is that Sam was trying really hard to maintain his grades, keep a night job to pay for stuff he needed like…food, clothes, etc so when a really big test was coming up he went into manic overdrive,"

Leaning his head back, Dean could still see the mess he walked into. "I'd been slipping into Stanford to check up on him ever since he left but normally I'd go, leave some money in an envelope and split since I knew Dad would be pissed if he found out and probably so would Sam…but this time…this trip felt different," he opened one eye to look and see that Jim was watching him seriously. "He hadn't been to work in a couple days and his boss told me that when she'd last seen him Sam was really, really hyper. Then she told me about this guy in his dorm that would give the new kids speed to 'help 'em'."

"I see," Jim could also see the damage that probably would have ensued if Caleb hadn't been with Dean that trip. "So what happened?"

"I had Caleb with me since we'd been up in the hills working a case of something or the other so he went to find the pusher while I checked on Sam and…Jim, he was so manic and hyped by then that he couldn't sit still, he couldn't even talk straight…Hell, he barely knew who I was by that point. Then he collapsed and was out like a light for five days," Dean still could remember his panic every time Sam would shake in his sleep or fight things only he could see but what he remembered the most was holding his little brother so he didn't hurt himself or anyone else when he began coming down from the pills.

"All he wanted was to maintain his grades so he didn't lose his scholarship and have to go back to Dad, Jim. Sammy took on to much back then and got suckered into taking that crap to keep him awake so he could do it all…just like he did this time and I know…I goddamn know that he took those because he knew it was all on his shoulders. He's so scared to ask for help because Dad always bitched when you or Bobby had to be called that this time Sammy took all the fear, the guilt and doubts into himself and needed to stay awake. Now he's crashing again and I don't know what to do for him. I don't have all the goddamn answers, Jim. I never did but Sam always believed I did so…"

Finally hearing enough to know what was going on here, Jim moved to sit on the edge of the bed before he carefully laid a hand on a shoulder that had been given too much weight at too young an age. "You're his brother, Dean and as much as you need to look after Sam is how much he feels like he needs to be there for you," he remarked, having seen this many times when the boys had been small. "You don't have to have all the answers for him because no one has those but you just need to be here for him now, like you have been and like I know you will be because you are Sam's big brother.

"Taking pills to stay awake was a bad move but then I've seen you pull some stupid ones for him…some a lot more dangerous than just popping some pills or don't you think I know what you did when Sam was sixteen, Dean?" Jim Murphy knew he'd made his point the moment he caught that jaw muscle on Dean's face twitch. "You knew Caleb could've been there within an hour but you still went by yourself and got the shit kicked out of you before John and Bobby got there."

Tensing at the merest mention of that time while Sam was sleeping next to him, Dean fought not to make a fist because he did remember that time but he still wouldn't call it stupid. He still called it 'Dean Winchester's Rule #1-mess with Sam and lose a damn lung'.

"He was a sixteen year old naïve innocent kid who got tricked into going to a damn party by some pretty girl looking to make time with her college boyfriend," Dean threw back, keeping his voice pitched low as to not wake his brother but the ragged emotion could still be heard as he remembered every vivid detail of that night. "Six hotshot little prep boys drugged my little brother, let their buddies do whatever the hell they wanted to him, beat him before taking him out to the middle of no where and leaving him to die of exposure or worse and the only way I found out is because the girl got panicked and called. It wasn't stupid, Jim. Those little bastards touched my brother and yeah I took a beating by going after them but by God I sent at least three to the ER."

Watching Dean carefully for a moment, Jim smiled slowly then squeezed the shoulder under his hand. "John never found out the full story, did he?" he knew the answer even before he was shot Dean's infamous smirk. "No, I guess he didn't. You only gave him bits and pieces to explain the injuries and why you went postal on a few town punks. You knew Sam would never want John to know."

"Dad and Sam were usually fighting pretty heavy back then so if Dad would've known how bad he was hurt and why then all he would've seen would be that Sam's lack of training, lack of dedication to learning how to fight back let him be hurt…so no, sir. I lied to Dad then took Sammy with me when Caleb and I went hunting a few States over," Dean shrugged, feeling Sam tense and begin to murmur in his sleep which was a sure sign that his next few hours would be a massive fight to keep the kid in bed and quiet until he got the pills and the fever out of his system. "Defending Sam is never a bad move in my book."

"No, and saving you would never be on in Sam's," Jim replied, pulling the quilt up to cover the now shivering younger man. "I'll leave you alone but try to sleep, Dean cause it won't help Sam to wake up and find you down again," he cautioned then left the brothers alone while he went to begin placing a few phone calls of his own.

Reaching for his leather jacket to lay over the quilt, Dean smiled the one true smile he normally only gave when he knew no one was around to see it or it was just him and Sam. He watched his brother's fingers slowly reach to pull the battered jacket that had originally belonged to their Dad and then to Dean up until he could hold it as if seeking comfort in the leather and the memories it offered.

Dean knew he needed to sleep because while his heart might be healed he still felt like crap and the constant worry over Sam was dragging him down fast which was something he knew Pastor Jim was right about. Sam needed him healthy, not sick.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," he murmured, lightly carding his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair and debated with himself over bugging Sam about a haircut then decided not to…unless it got too much longer. "You did your job and you pulled me through now let your awesome big brother do his and I'll get you over this," Dean whispered, shifting on the bed so he could still sit with his back to the headboard but Sam would have the room to flip, flop and toss like he always did when sick.

Looking down at Sam to see some color slowly was returning, Dean hoped that was a good sign and not a sign that his brother's fever was too high again. He let out a shaky breath after running the back of his hand over Sam's forehead and only felt a mild fever instead of the burning one that he'd had earlier.

"Sam, I know you won't hear this so maybe I won't have to call do over when you're better but…when I said that I didn't want to hunt for Dad by myself…I meant that. I mean, I know it was selfish on my part to take you away from the one thing you'd fought to achieve for the four years that you'd been away but…I missed my pain in the ass little brother and while I still promise that we will find Dad and Jessica's killer…I just want to say that I'm proud of you, Sammy," he spoke softly, keeping a hand on the back of Sam's neck like he would years ago and chuckled when his little brother mumbled in his sleep. "You are an awesome little brother and I'm thankful to have you even if you are annoying, way too organized, way into too much health food and a music critic and…I love you."

Confident that Sam slept through that admission and knowing that after being sick like this his brother normally had the memory of an ant and so wouldn't even remember Dean baring his soul in that exchange as he pulled the blanket up one final time before letting himself relax into sleep, knowing they were safe and his brother would be fine once he woke up.

Sometime later since getting woke up out of too sound of a sleep always screwed with his head, Dean heard his name shouted and was awake a second later.

"Dean!"

The pure tone of confused panic tore through his heart as he forced sleep out of bleary green eyes to look around quickly to find… "Sammy?" off the bed, Dean was on the floor next to where Sam was struggling to both breath, move, and not choke all at the time. "Sam, what the…" the words died off the moment he looked down at the hand that he'd instinctively used to brush soaking wet hair out of Sam's eyes with and saw red.

Looking down at the floor, Dean saw more blood then lunged to grab for his brother just as the boy seemed to fall forward and he noticed the blood on his face and every calm and rational thought in Dean's head flew right out of the window.

"Pastor Jim!" the shout came even as he was trying to get Sam laid down flat only to have the boy strain to hold on to him like a lifeline when another violent round of dry heaving came but the only thing he threw up was blood. "Jim! Sam's…Sammy, don't do this to me. You hang on because you are not hurt this bad to be bleeding inside so…" he stopped talking when he realized the tight grip around his wrist had relaxed but as he looked closer the panic that had been building shot to overwhelming when he didn't see the rise and fall of Sam's chest or… "Sammy!"

TBC

Author Note: I'll duck now and swear the end will be up soon. Trust me because when have you known me to write a death fic? A close to it but always pulled back by the seat of their pants fic but never a full blown death fic.