October 1995, Appleton Wisconsin

Sammy was lying in the back of the Impala, huddled in the old ratty army blanket he had found under the passenger seat. He had been sick for the past week, and the runny nose, tight chest, and achy bones made him miserable enough, but now he was laying in the car waiting for Dean and his Dad to come back from the salt and burn they were finishing in the cemetery.

He shot up in his seat when he heard the front door squeak open, and pointed his gun in that direction, lowering it when he saw it was just his brother.

"How you feeling Sammy?" Sam coughed into the blanket.

"Like I've been run over by a truck…" Dean sighed and reached back to place his hand on his brother's forehead.

"You're shivering…"

"It's cold Dean… I don't like the cold…"

"I know Sammy, we will go back to the motel soon, I promise." Dean took his jacket off and laid it over Sam's small form. Sam curled into a ball and let out a content sigh.

"Thanks De…"

"Anytime little brother, now go to sleep." Sam's eyes slipped shut, and even though Dean was covered with a thin sheen of sweat from digging up graves, he turned on the car, and turned the heat up high, smiling as Sammy relaxed even farther into his jacket, and he didn't move when John opened the door and slid into the drivers seat.

"Everything alright Dean?"

"Yeah, he is still pretty sick though, and he is freezing, you know how much he hates the cold… maybe me and him could crash at a motel when you and Bobby go on the next hunt? He'll get better faster that way…"

"No Dean, I don't care what he likes or doesn't like, he has to learn to toughen up." Dean swallowed and nodded.

"Yes sir…"

Neither of the oldest Winchester's noticed as a tear slipped down Sammy's cheek as he faked sleep, and when they pulled into the motel they would be spending the night at, Dean shook him awake.

"Wake up little brother, time for a nice warm bed." He sat up and got out of the car in silence, handing Dean back his jacket. Dean frowned as Sammy kept his eyes downcast, hidden behind his thick bangs.

"You okay Sammy?" Sam lifted his face, and he had a new hardness to him, one that scared Dean a little bit.

"It's Sam." He whispered, and he turned his back on Dean, heading towards the motel room.

Sam stopped complaining about the cold after that.