Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes. This is purely non-profit fan-fiction work created to pay homage to an awesome series.

AN1: Alright then, we've got a physically de-aged!Sam coming up… maybe some sick!Sam and hurt!Sam too… I haven't really written anything Sam-related… so I'm going to make this a Sam-licious fanfic to make up for it ;)

AN2: I haven't actually been in the mood for writing the past few months… but this bunny just slapped me from nowhere and wouldn't leave me alone. Good thing too, I was getting worried my Writer's Block was permanent! LOL

AN3: This fic is more about the issues of trying to continue hunting and trying to adjust than anything else. A shameless excuse for big brother!Dean and later some protective!Dean too, just for good measure! Enjoy!

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Fevers and Flying Pigs

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Sam's mouth is opening and closing continuously, looking on a dime like a goldfish. Each time he opens and closes his mouth a small crackling noise escapes him, proof that this infection had gone on for a while.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asks sleepily when he rolls over and spots Sam.

"Nothing," Sam snaps nasally.

"I told you not to get sick," Dean growls, covering his head with his arm to muffle out the noise.

Sam narrows his eyes and makes sure to sniffle harder than the previous time just to irritate Dean, "Ugh…" he clears his throat, suddenly regretting his revenge when it sends a spike of pain through his throat and rubs his throat, "Do we have something for this?"

"Not unless you want to OD… we don't have meds for kids," Dean says and a grin pulls on the corner of his lips, "… kid."

"But this really sucks…" Sam moans, looking as pathetic as possible. It's a long time since he's been able to use that card.

Dean shrugs and rolls over, but decides to head to the store later to get some children's Nyquil or something. "Go to sleep, Sasq…." Dean pauses and decides to pose a yawn instead to save Sam the humiliation of being reminded that he's actually been cursed and that it isn't really something to joke about. It might actually be permanent.

Sam couldn't help but feel a bit grateful for that. He muffles his sneeze with his shirt and finally lies back against his pillows.

It's not strange for either of them to be awake at 3am in the morning, but Sam just knows that if he's going to stay awake any longer that he'll be half-asleep the rest of the day. He hasn't forgotten yet that he was never a night-owl as a kid. He switches off the bedside lamp and turns on his side.

"Night, Dean," he says finally, suddenly aware of just how young his voice really sounds.

"Night, dude," Dean mumbles back, flipping over to lie on his stomach.

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Dean wakes up at five that morning, not exactly feeling refreshed, but nonetheless wide awake. He sighs and sits up. A yawn escapes him, but he takes his time to revel in it, feeling slightly annoyed that he couldn't actually sleep through until morning. He looks over to Sam, but Sam's still asleep and snoring.

The older Winchester swings his legs over to the side of his bed, not bothering to switch on the lamp.

Sam's still sleeping by the time he's dressed. Dean grabs the keys to the Impala, "Sam?"

The younger brother mumbles a 'yes' in his sleep, but doesn't even move a muscle.

Dean walks over to flick Sam on the nose to get him to get up, but he couldn't help but notice Sam's got a rash on his neck, arms…

"What's this?"

Sam takes in a deep breath and opens his eyes, "What's what?" he asks, rolling out his stiff neck. The pillows are too big for him now.

"Looks like a rash…. Were you near poison Oak, or something?" Dean asks, pulling on Sam's shirt to get a look of his stomach. The rash's spread to down there too. Tiny ruby-coloured spots. It was like a bad dye-job.

"No?"

Dean palms Sam's forehead but comes up empty, "You don't have a fever…?" he says with a frown, "You allergic to the bedspread or something?"

This time it's Sam turn to frown, "Look, just because I'm stuck in a seven-year-old body doesn't mean I'm suddenly allergic and susceptible to everything," he snapped and shook his head disapprovingly, "…but… you're right… I'm am a kid again so maybe it's just some weird kid's rash…"

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The older Winchester's not buying it and ten minutes later the both of them are standing in the clinic, waiting to be checked out. Dean's got the fidgets, but Sam's just rubbing his neck… and head…. And neck… and…

"Would you stop that?" Dean growls, his leg bouncing up and down.

"Sorry. Ugh…" Sam groans and rubs at his head again, "Those pillows are so friggen lumpy… I think my whole back is in spasm…"

"You know, you're really whiney since you've tu-" Dean stops when he spots the clinic nurse approaching him, "….. uuurrned eight. You should really grow up", he finishes off and glares at Sam for a split-second for effect. He looks up and waggles his eyebrows, "Kids, right?"

The woman's eyebrow quirked, "Mr. Wahl?" she asks.

Dean's thankful that the clinic doesn't charge for check-ups, but he made sure to count out his Washington's before heading out that morning. The town's small and the chemist won't accept credit cards or anything of the sort. He'll have to cough up if Sam needs meds.

"…Looks like German Measles…" the doctor says not seven minutes later.

"….. German Measels?" Dean repeated, not able to stop himself from turning pale.

Sam had measles when he was a kid. Six, at that. Spiked fevers. Vomiting. Headaches. The crying. It was like a nightmare, but… it lasted longer and it was a lot more painful. John jumped in the car when Dean had called, but was stuck in traffic with roadworks upon roadworks on the National roads. By the time John was home, Sam was past his sixth spike and Dean was fighting to stay awake and keep his own cold away from Sam at the same time. They took a break from hunting for almost two months. It wasn't as fun as it sounded.

The doctor was empathetic though, "Now, before you get worried, it's like the original Measels virus… but much less severe… the rash has small spots instead of the larger splotches, the fever is less severe… rarely spiking over 101… the glandular pain rarely is felt beyond the neck and armpit area…" he informs them and hangs the stethoscope around his neck.

Dean's not too happy with the diagnosis though, "How it he get it? He's had measles before…"

"It's not the same thing, Dean," Sam snaps, having to manoeuvre himself off the bed and unto the tiny steps before stepping down to the floor. Who knew he'd start to develop a weird fear of heights too?

"These are two very different diseases… comparing them would be like comparing swimming with sharks in the sea to watching your goldfish swim in its bowl," the man said and laughed. "I'll prescribe something for the fever and pain… but it'll own wither out on its own in about two weeks…"

"Am I contagious?" Sam asks, sitting on the chair next to Dean. His feet dangling off the floor. It's weird to be able to kick your feet around.

"Yes… but, don't worry. Two weeks will fly by and you'll be able to play with your friends at school soon," the man said and smiled as he handed Dean the prescription, "Smart kid you have there, sir."

"Yea… Sam's always… oh… wait, no, he's not my …. Kid… he's my brother," Dean catches himself and grins sheepishly.

"Brother?" the doctor repeats and eyes the height difference and age in the report. He shrugs. He's seen much worse, "Alright then, nice to meet you."

The pair of brothers leave the clinic and Sam's been awarded a red Spiderman sucker for 'being so well-behaved'.

"… I guess it's not all that bad?" Sam asks, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes the candy, "Free gifts are always good?"

"Yeah…" Dean agrees with a smile and waits until Sam's popped the sucker into his mouth before continuing: "Now you finally get to suck on Spiderman!"

Somehow the lollipop ended in the parking lot trashcan.

They decide to walk over to the chemist, since driving there'll just waste gas they can't afford at this point. It's a gravel stretch of road and few cars driving lazily by. A couple of townspeople even offered to give them a ride, but they just smile, wave and keep walking. But, it doesn't take long for Dean to start regretting that decision.

"Dean…" Sam abruptly shrieks, grabbing a hold of Dean's leather jacket with one hand and his hand reaching into the back of his jeans for his Taurus with the other, "There's something there…"

The older Winchester looks down, spots Sam's serious face. He looks up and scans the area, eyes trained for anything Supernatural.

"See it?" Sam says, now pointing to the tree, "It's there!"

The pair of them backtrack into the shrubs on the roadside, both drawing their guns.

"I don't see it… where is it?" Dean says after a while, looking down at Sam. The kid's face is pale, his cheeks a bright red and his eyes glossy. Damn fever.

"It's a werewolf…. It's right there…" Sam growls dangerously, his eyes fixed on whatever his fever's latched onto.

"Ahh hell…" Dean murmurs, lowering the sight of his Colt. He actually forgot how easily Sam used to get hallucinations and night terrors whenever his fever was up as a kid…. He's not looking forward to the next few days.

Especially since they'll have to interview three of the victims this afternoon.

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Thanks for reading!

Please drop me a review or pm if you liked it :D

Coming up next: Chemistry and Zombie-hunting! Yarr!

(Who's up for a bit loopy!Sam ?)