Chapter 4
Sam hadn't meant to fall asleep, he really hadn't. He was sure Dean needed him, even if he didn't know for what. He felt around in the dark until he ran across the lump that was his brother. Dean was turned away from him, his blankets anywhere but on him. Sam sidled closer to him. He stopped when his hand touched the sheet bunched beside him and he found it wet. His hand came away with an odd smell, salty and something not good, though he couldn't say what, other than it just smelled wrong.
"Dean?" His brother said nothing. Sam didn't think he moved, though in the dark it was hard to tell. The power must still be out. Everything was black. He didn't think he'd ever been this unable to see before. He didn't like it.
Sam had no idea how long he'd slept. He sidled toward his brother some more despite the weird scent and reached out to touch Dean. His brother's chest felt hot, too hot. He was also covered in sweat – it had that same salty and bad smell like the sheet. Sam remembered a really bad cold he'd had a year ago and realized his brother had a fever. Fevers weren't good. Sam's face scrunched up as he tried to think of what to do.
When he'd had his cold his Dad had given him medicine and had made it go away. But what kind of medicine? He sat up and half turned in what he hoped was the direction of the hotel room's foyer. Their father kept all the medicines and anything they weren't supposed to mess with in his bags. He'd dropped the duffels he didn't think he'd need for the job on the short table shelves by the door when he left. If something could help Dean it would be in there.
"Dean, what medicine is for fever?" His brother didn't answer so Sam shook him a little. When he still got no response, he shook him harder and repeated the question. "You gotta tell me!"
"Uhm…fever? You have a fever?" Dean sounded confused, his voice barely audible.
"What do you take for that?" Sam tried not to let his desperation show in his voice. He was growing more frustrated and scared by the second. "You know, right?"
"'pirin…As..pirin…"
Sam sighed with relief. He knew that word. There were commercials for the stuff all the time. He should have remembered that. "I'm gonna go get some, okay? I'll be right back."
"Mmm…"
Sam slid off the bed and onto the floor. Only the soft patter of the rain against the windows accompanied him as he crawled down the length of the bed then went on in what he hoped was the direction of the front door. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he was glad of that. He'd had more of the storm than he'd ever wanted already. Now if only the lights would come back on.
As he neared the foyer, he hoped his father wouldn't be mad when he found out Sam had crossed into no man's land and looked for the medicine. He knew why they had rules, that they were there to keep them safe and alive, but Dad wasn't here and Dean was sick, and Sam had to do something! He would take the spanking gladly if that's what it came down to. Anything to get his big brother back to normal.
He felt the carpet change to slick linoleum beneath his hands and knew he'd reached his goal. Within seconds he'd arrived at the short shelves. Sam stood up and reaching around blindly found and unzipped the duffel. He eased his hands inside trying to find what he thought the bottle would feel like. He glared a moment at the darkness, knowing this would be so much easier if the lights were on. He almost found himself wishing for the lightning to come back.
A flash of light immediately followed by a booming crash shook the room and made Sam scream at the unexpected assault. Sam, the duffel, and the shelves fell over as he half jumped and jerked his hands toward his face to stop voicing his fear and inadvertently brought the duffel with him. The noise of something breaking and of others bouncing off the linoleum filled the air, but Sam barely heard them, the too close thunder still ringing in his ears.
The scent of All Spice wafted up thick around him and made him think of his father. Tears sprang to his eyes again and this time didn't stop them. He wished with all he had to see his Dad walk in through the door right then. When he did Sam would leap into his arms to be enveloped by rough worn leather, the scent of All Spice mixed with old sweat, a ten day old beard raking against his cheek. Then all would be made well again. All would be set right.
But the door didn't open. No one came in. It was dark and humid and only the rain made any sound. Sam started to cry. He covered his face, trying to bottle it inside, knowing he was too old to do it, but too scared and lonely at the moment not to, and he didn't want Dean to hear it. His brother was sick. Sam had to be the strong one this time.
After a couple of minutes, he moved his hands away, hiccupping lightly. His leg felt wet were some of the All Spice got soaked up by his pants. Several bolts of lightning then lit up the room in succession. Sam spotted the aspirin bottle but a couple of inches from his hand. Giddy with thanks, he grabbed it then inched backwards away from the mess on the linoleum and the pieces of broken glass.
He held the bottle in an iron grip as he crawled his way over to the mini-fridge to get him and his brother something to drink. He shuffled back on his knees, trying not to flinch as more thunder and lightning inundated the night, though the flashes of light helped him stay on track. He opened and set the two drinks on the nightstand, then fought with the aspirin bottle's childproof cap until he got it open as well. He pulled out two aspirin and then put the bottle on the nightstand by feel. Taking a deep breath, he waited for another flash of lightning to make sure where his brother's face was.
Touching it with his free hand, trying not to think about how hot and clammy his skin felt, Sam moved up close. "Dean, I have the medicine. You need to take it. Dean?"
Not waiting for a response he felt around Dean's face until he found his brother's mouth. He moved Dean's lips apart and slipped the aspirin inside. He reached back for one of the cans of soda, then hesitated not knowing how to make his brother drink let alone swallow the medication.
He could feel his chest tightening in distress as he tried to figure out what to do and came up empty. "Dean, come on. Help me! Dean, please!"
Aside from a low moan, he got no response.
Eyes burning, Sam found Dean's mouth again and stuck his fingers inside to keep it open. Running the can down the side of his arm, he then tipped it can until he felt the slight stream go past his fingers and into his brother's open maw.
He was worrying about how much to give him when his brother started chocking. He grabbed Dean's shoulder and half shook it. "Swallow, Dean. Swallow!"
Sam stared hard into the darkness, fear keeping suddenly him frozen, as it occurred to him that instead of helping him, he might have just killed his brother instead.
A cough and a gasp told him Dean was alive. Sam bent double, his relief so acute it hurt. The can of soda fell from his fingers to the floor but he never noticed. Sam grabbed his brother with both hands and buried his face in his sweat soaked shirt and sobbed. When a shaking hand stumbled over his back onto his head, it only made Sam cry all that much harder.
