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Hey Yeah …. You guys are adorable! I PROMISE I don't want to take Sammy into the hospital… I guess John wouldn't do it because of a cold.

Major thanks to…

V, What a short name… ;) Okay... perhaps your wish will be come true ;)

The Grey Phantom, I'm thanking you for your encouraging words. Like I said, I won't put Sammy in a hospital.

becci *, Thanks so much for the review. Hahah… Dean will worry…

So… enjoy, read and review. Please

Sam's Perspective

I couldn't sleep, though I was exhausted. My attempts to stop the shiver weren't really successfully; I hugged my both arms around my chest, right over Dean's arms to keep them form trembling, but the chattering of me teeth betrayed me.

Dean was worried. I knew it when he begun to stroke my hair in front of dad. Or better behind dad's back, but dad noticed it.

"Don't fight it." Dean whispered, when I tried to swallow a cough down.

I felt my eyes sting; coughing hurt so much; Dean rubbed my back, trying to calm me down. With him rubbing my back, I felt how wet my shirt was. Sheepishly I tried to push away from Dean, not wanting to mess his shirt, but I was too weak to bring myself in a sitting position and Dean had his arms crossed in front of my chest again.

Dad was right. I never thought I would admit this, but he really was right. I should have told them two days ago when I felt that my throat began to hurt. I couldn't help but feel guilty, that I have been a mayor jerk the last two days. Dean's caring made me feel worse; he wasn't even bothered by my sweat-soaked shirt, which was connecting with his shirt.

I moved my tongue around in my mound and on my lips. I was pretty dehydrated.

"Thirsty?" Dean asked, brushing some hair out of my forehead, while opened the bottle with his other hand.

I didn't even try to take the bottle from his hands, when he moved it to my lips, helping me drink.

"Thanks" I swallowed; my voice thick and rough.

"Your fever is increasing, Sammy." Dean noticed, feeling my forehead.

"Are you boys okay?" Dad asked when Dean took his jacket form the passenger side and put it around my legs.

"More or less, Sam is getting worse." I winced at Dean's tone, he was either mad or frightened; maybe both.

"Take his temperature." Dad ordered, nodding at the first aid kit, which stood on my other side.

"Open your cake hole." Dean cupped my cheek in his hand, smiling warmly; but I knew him good enough that this smile wasn't real, it didn't reach his eyes. I wanted to apologize so badly, for making him worry, but I couldn't force myself to talk, even opening my mouth hurt.

"How much?" Dad asked, as soon as a loud sound was to be heard.

I watched Dean out of the corner of my eyes, after he had read the number; he closed his eyes briefly, like he always did when he tried to get his composure, than he again faked a smile, caressing my cheek. "I think you should sleep kiddo."

"How much?" Dad asked again, turning a little in his seat, facing Dean.

Dean glared back. "102.3°F" He hissed, stroking my damp hair out of my eyes, gently moving his thumbs over my eyes, so I had to close them and I was unable to open them again.

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When I woke up again I felt a lot better. I felt something hard against my back… the door.

I looked around in the car; neither dad nor Dean was here anymore. It stunned me that Dean would leave me, when I was ill, alone in the cold car, in the middle of the night. Something must have happened.

My heart rate rose, when I stepped into the dark parking lot. Damned, here was nobody, only a small motel.

I shivered, tears in my eyes. "Dean" I whispered.

I headed to the door of the house, feeling lighter when I was a women standing behind the reception. "Hello, I'm searching for my father and my brother." My voice was barley over a whisper, earning me a sympatric smile from the women.

"I actually think I can help you." The women bit his lip and looked at the screen of her computer. "Yes a man with his son just checked in. They are in room six."

I didn't thank her, immediately running to the room. I knocked hysterically, waiting for Dean opening the door.

"Dad… I'm…" I cheered, when dad opened the door. But the look of his furious face shut me. "What?" I asked, but dad just pushed me aside and left.

Confused, I stepped into the room, finding Dean, laying on a bed, shivering and sweating.

"Dean" I murmured, sitting down on the side of his bed. "What's up?"

"Go away…" He pushed me away roughly, causing me to fall to the ground. "It's just your fault that I'm sick."

I felt again tears in my eyes. I didn't want to infect him. "Sorry" I apologized, standing up, supporting me on Dean's bed.

"You are always sorry. Always. You know…" he coughed. "every time I help you, stand up for you or have you around, I'm the one who end up hurt. You just don't worth it. I don't want you to have you around anymore."

With Dean's confession I just couldn't take it anymore. I left the room, running away, his words on my mind.

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Dean's Perspective (In the meantime in the real world ;))

"I'm sorry, Dean" Sam murmured again and again in his sleep. I didn't know what to do.

"Sammy… come on wake up." I cradled him even closer to my chest, hugging him tight, when I saw tears streaming down his face. "Dad" I piped up. "Stop the car, Sammy isn't waking up."

Fortunately dad obeyed immediately, I stroked Sam's sweat from his forehead, again brushing my lips against it. "It's just a dream, baby brother."

"Hey" Dad opened the door, sitting down on the other side from Sam, gripping the water-bottle and watered a cloth from the first aid kit, gently moving it over Sam's cheeks.

"Deaaan…" Sam moaned his face filled with anguish. I couldn't see him like this.

"Please Sammy; I'm begging you… stop it." I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against his hair, running my hand up and down his upper arm.

I tried to hide my own tears, but dad seemed to realize my own fear. "Hey Dean" He cupped my cheek in his hand, looking at me with concern in his eyes. "With fever come bad dreams. It's just normal, don't worry so much. He is going to get better, I promise you kid."

I nodded, unable to speak. He had just called me kid; he hadn't called me like this for a long time.

"Sam, wake up." Dad used his authority voice, I glared at him: this was for sure not helpful.

"Don't be mad, Dean…" Sam pleaded, further tears escaping his eyes. I looked at dad desperately.

"Hey… Sammy… I. Am. Not. Mad." I emphasized every word, when I whispered into his ear, his damp hair against my forehead, I felt so utterly helpless, and I wished I was the one who was sick.

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Yeah… I can't possible end here… can I?

Sooo at everybody… tell me what I can do better…

Is Dean worried enough?