Chapter 3

Sam squinted, looking up from his drawing, realizing the room was growing dark. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only after four. Setting his crayons down, he crossed the room on his heels, walking silently as he'd been taught, to check what he could see out the window. Dean was only a lump beneath the covers. Sam knew he'd gotten up at least twice more in the last hour, but had gone straight back to bed each time without saying anything.

Moving the curtain aside, he spotted dark banks of clouds moving quickly across the sky. Bright flashes of light jumped from one to another. A storm was coming in.

As he watched, rain began to fall. Within a few minutes, the water was falling so thick he couldn't see the parking lot. The room grew dim and he was forced to turn on a lamp. The air turned cooler, the window condensing inside with humidity.

Sam didn't like storms. "Dean? You awake?" The lump on the bed didn't move.

The rumble of far off thunder reverberated from outside. Sam swallowed hard and shuffled over closer to the bed. He could barely see the top of his brother's head through the coiled covers. He gently pulled on the top to move it a little away from Dean's face. His brother's cheeks were flushed, his mouth open, his breath coming in and out as if he were struggling to get air.

"Dean?" Though his brother was all wrapped up in blankets, when Sam touched his forehead, it was hot.

His brother's eyes fluttered open at his touch. "Sammy?" His voice was raspy. "Everything okay?"

Sam bit his lip. "Storm." He frowned as he noticed his brother's eyes grow unfocused for a moment. "And you're not better. And Dad still isn't here and he hasn't called." Plus it was dark, and thunder was coming, and there would be lightning -- things that made him feel small and afraid.

"Thirsty…" Dean's eyes half closed, his tongue licking his lips. Sam saw it was white rather than pink.

"I'll get you something." He ran around the bed to the mini-fridge. Grabbing a lukewarm Pepsi, he rushed back. He struggled with the tab for a moment or two but finally got it open.

There was a change outside, the rain now splattering hard against the windows, making a drumming sound.

"Dean, I have the drink for you! Dean?" He shook his brother's shoulder when he got no response. That weird feeling was back in his stomach stronger than before.

His brother's eyes opened back all the way. After a moment he struggled to sit up against the backboard. Sam waited, trying hard not to fidget, holding the can in both hands. Dean threw the blankets off as if he were hot, then reached for the drink. He chugged it down with barely a breath between swallows. A large burp forced its way out of him the moment he was done. "Thanks, Sammy." His hand shook as he handed the empty can back.

"Should I call Pastor Jim?"

A flash of light lit the curtains from the outside followed closely by a window rattling boom of thunder. The rain lashed against the glass as if wanting to get inside at them.

Dean licked his lips again. Sam thought his eyes looked sunken, the dark circles beneath them more pronounced than before. "He's…he's four states over, but…yeah. Maybe he's heard-" His brother's face suddenly turned green and before Sam could ask what was wrong, Dean was off the bed and hightailing it to the bathroom. He slammed the door closed.

Sam stared the way he'd gone with wide eyes, that sour feeling growing inside him. Dean was really really sick. They needed help. Making himself move, he went around the bed to reach for the black phone on the nightstand. For a panicked moment his mind went totally blank and he couldn't remember it. When he remembered again, he mouthed Pastor Jim's phone number over and over to make sure it wouldn't go away again. He picked up the receiver, listening for the drone noise so he could dial. There was nothing. He waited and waited, but there was no sound. He tried to dial anyway, yet it made no difference. The phone was dead.

He put the receiver back on the cradle. Lightning lit the room from outside, the thunder rattling the windows with a vengeance. Sam jumped, startled. That one had sounded really close. "Dean?"

A lot of his nightmares had storms like these. He didn't know why that was, but he'd paid attention. Bad things happened when the weather was mean. He jumped across the bed over to the bathroom. He opened the door without knocking.

Dean was sitting on the toilet, half bent over with arms wrapped around his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks, his face screwed up with pain. Shock froze Sam's expression, never having seen such a thing before. His brother was tough -- tougher than anyone, except for their Dad. And he never, ever cried.

Dean spotted him and instantly wiped at his face, turning as much as he could away from him. "What?!"

Sam struggled to make his mouth work. "The, the phone's not working." His nose curled as the stench of diarrhea wafted over toward him.

"Fine! Try again later." Dean kept himself turned away from him. "Now go make yourself some dinner and just leave me alone!"

"But, Dean…"

"Get out!"

Another blast of thunder made him jump as he shut the bathroom door. Tears stung his eyes, but he brushed them away. He wasn't a little kid no more. Dean was sick. He had to be brave. He had to help his brother. But how…?

Sam stared at the stove. He wasn't really hungry, but Dean had told him to eat. Not knowing what else to do, he did as he was told. He used the hand opener on a can of Spaghetti O's with meatballs and scooped a few spoonfuls into a bowl. They would taste better hot, but he didn't want to mess with the little stove, not with it being so close to the windows and the thunder and lightning. He had a feeling Dean wouldn't notice so could get away with it.

By the time his brother finally came out of the bathroom, Sam had finished eating. Dean stumbled to the bed and sat down, then glanced his way. "Wipe your mouth, it's got goop on it."

Sam looked away, feeling guilty about forgetting, but after seeing his brother's face he was even more worried about him than before. A flash of lightning hit almost simultaneously with a barrage of thunder and then the lights went out.

The room went pitch black. Sam couldn't see anything. He hated the dark. "Dean!"

"Calm down! I'll come find you, okay?" The sound of rustling came from across the room. Then a loud thud. "Shit…"

"Dean?" The panic nipping at him spiked.

"I'm okay, Sammy. I just. I'm too…" Dean's hesitation was thick, full of things he obviously didn't want to say. It only made Sam more afraid. "Can you, can you come to me instead? Just get on the floor and crawl over. Go slow."

Lightning lit the room a moment, so Sam was able to get his bearings and head toward his brother. After a couple of minutes his hand ran across Dean's. It was cold and clammy.

"Hey, Sammy. You made it. You okay?" Sam heard Dean's teeth chattering.

"Fine. But you…"

"Bed's right here. I just need you to help me up." He squeezed Sam's hand. "Think we'll go to bed early today."

"But, Dean…"

"Everything will be all right when the phone and lights come back on. It's just a storm. I'm okay. It's no big deal, Sammy. No big deal." The words tumbled out quickly as if he were trying to reassure them both. "We can do this."

Sam inched forward and grabbed Dean to help him get up on the bed, knowing the whole time his brother was lying. Things were not okay. It was a big deal. But what to do? What could he do?

The moment he got Dean up on the mattress, Sam felt the blankets being grabbed up, the sound of his brother's teeth chattering echoing loudly.

"Dean?"

"It's okay." A cold hand searched for his arm and when it found him pulled him close. Sam went willingly and hugged his brother, hoping to give some comfort even as he took some for his own.