I don't own Supernatural, that's the WB. So please don't sue me because I already have enough student loans to worry about. Otherwise, enjoy. Thanks for the reviews.
-note: I wasn't sure if I'd even put this up, it started out as a one shot….but clearly it isn't. Don't know when I'll have time to update after the slew of chapters, but I will as soon as I can.
He turned towards the woods. Dean was at his side in a second. "Dad, what's wrong?"
"I don't know where your brother is."
Bobby called from the other side of the car. "John."
Sam was curled in the grass, his shirt and pants were damp from the night. John ran to him. He knelt at his son's side and pulled him into his lap.
"Sammy?" John brushed the boy's hair back away from his fevered forehead.
Sam opened his eyes. "Dad?"
"What happened, Sammy?"
"M'cold." He muttered and closed his eyes again.
John lifted Sam up and carried him back to the car. Dean stood a few feet away, worry spilling from his eyes.
"Dad?" He whispered.
"He's all right, Dean."
Sam clutched his father's jacket and buried his face in John's shoulder.
"Dean, climb in back and sit with him."
Dean crawled in back of the car and John handed Sam over to his brother. John climbed behind the wheel.
Bobby leaned in the window. "I'll follow behind."
John pulled back onto the road and pointed the car towards home. Sam held tight to Dean's jacket and shivered. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and held him close to try and warm him up. John slipped off his jacket and covered Sam with it.
"How's he doing, Dean?" John looked up at his boys in the rear-view-mirror.
Dean tried to keep the fear out of his voice. "He won't stop shivering."
John drove as fast as he dared to get them all home. He pulled up in front of the house and took Sam from Dean's arms. John carried his boy inside and gently placed him on the couch.
"Dean, grab a blanket and the thermometer."
Dean ran from the room. John pulled Sam's shoes and jacket from him. Sam woke again and looked around the room, unsure where he was.
He tried to sit up, but John held him back. "Easy, son."
"Dad?" He grabbed John's sleeve.
"Shhh, you're all right." John sat on the couch and pulled Sam into his lap. "You're okay, Sammy."
Sam buried himself in John's shirt. "I don't feel very good." He muttered.
"I know, bud, I know."
John pulled the sweatshirt off his son as Dean came back into the room. John wrapped the blanket around him. John placed the thermometer under Sam's tongue. Dean perched on the arm of a chair.
John pulled the thermometer out and read the number. He closed his eyes for a moment as though trying to gather his thoughts.
"Dad?" Dean tried to keep the quiver out of his voice.
Bobby came through the front door, the bags and weapons in his hands. "I'll put these away."
"Dean, go help him."
Dean stood, but didn't go any further. He didn't want to leave Sam.
Bobby rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's okay, Dean, I've got them."
Dean stood close to John on the couch. "What's his temp at?" Dean whispered.
"103." John brushed Sam's damp hair away from his fevered skin. After a few moments John stood. "I'm going to bring him upstairs."
He carried Sam up to the room and placed him back in bed. He pulled on clean and dry pajamas onto his youngest son and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. Dean was close behind.
Sam opened his eyes when John pulled the blankets up. "Dad."
"Yeah, Sam." John brushed Sam's hair back again.
He swallowed and rolled to his side. "I think I'm gonna throw up again."
John held Sam as he dry heaved over the bucket. Nothing came up, but it didn't stop Sam's body from trying. After several long minutes, Sam relaxed into his father's grasp. John eased him back to bed and pulled the blankets up.
"Dean." John said without looking away from Sam. "Get me a wet washcloth, glass of water and the bottle of advil."
Dean practically ran from the room.
"How you feeling, Sammy?" John leaned close.
"Not that good." He breathed.
John cupped his hand under Sam's head. "Why'd you get out of the car?"
Sam opened his eyes and looked at his dad. "I didn't want to throw up in the car. I tripped on the grass. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about." He ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "I'm just glad you're safe."
Dean returned with the things John wanted. John sat his son up and helped him drink and take the advil. He moved to the edge of Sam's bed and held his son against his chest. He wiped the damp washcloth over Sam's face and held it against his forehead. Sam hung onto the arm that John had wrapped around Sam's chest.
Sam shifted. "Dean?"
Dean sat next to his father and brother on the bed. "I'm right here, Sammy."
"Did the hunt go okay?" He muttered.
"Yeah." Dean almost smiled. "Get some sleep, Sammy."
Sam sighed and leaned against John. They sat that way for a while. When John was sure that Sam was asleep, he moved the boy back to bed.
Bobby came to the doorway. John stood and went over to him. Dean took the job of wiping the cloth across Sam's forehead.
"You and Dean get some sleep. I'll stay with Sam for a while."
John looked back at his boys. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
John rested his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Thanks."
He walked over to his sons and touched Dean's shoulder. "Get ready for bed. Bobby's going to stay with Sam for a while."
Dean looked back at Bobby and nodded slightly. He stood and left the room. John watched Sam for a few seconds before he left. Bobby took the seat at the bedside.
Dean crawled into bed. "Goodnight, Sam."
Sam slept fitfully for a few hours. Bobby kept replacing the cloth with a cool one. Whenever Sam woke a little, Bobby would help him drink a little.
Sam's glassy eyes were fixed on Bobby.
Bobby looked up and leaned forward. "How do you feel?"
He shrugged.
Bobby took Sam's temperature and helped him drink some water after. Sam pushed off the blankets and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He just wanted to sleep, but the fever kept him from it.
Bobby looked down at the number again. "I'll be right back, Sammy."
He left the room. Sam tried to find a cool spot on the pillow. His head throbbed and his stomach still hadn't settled.
Bobby returned with John. He went to his son's side. "Sammy, your fever's gone up. We have to cool you down, okay?"
Sam nodded, too sick and worn out to really care. John picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. Bobby started the bath, cold but not too cold. John set Sam on the edge of the tub and pulled off his t shirt. Sam's eyes drifted shut and he wavered as he sat. John held him to his chest and looked at Bobby.
John stripped Sam down to his underwear and put him in the half filled tub. Sam's eyes opened for a few seconds before they closed again. John cupped water over Sam's head to cool him. Sam shivered and tried to fight in his half consciousness.
"Don't fight it, Sammy." John soothed. "Don't fight me."
"Dad." The word was small and helpless on Sam's lips.
"I'm right here."
Sam opened his eyes and struggled to keep them open. "Everything hurts." He muttered.
John looked to Bobby for a moment. "I know." He cupped more water over Sam's head.
After twenty minutes, John hauled Sam up and wrapped a towel around him. Sam was limp from exhaustion and collapsed into his dad's arms. Bobby left to get dry pajamas for Sam. John sat on the edge of the bathtub with his sick little boy in his lap. Sam coughed and buried his face into John's chest.
Bobby returned and John pulled the cotton pants onto Sam. He didn't bother with the t-shirt. He carried Sam back to bed and pulled the blanket up. John sat in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees.
"Go on and get some rest, John." Bobby kept his voice down so not to wake the boys.
"I'm going to stay with him for a while." John's eyes were locked on his little boy.
Bobby nodded and left the room. John leaned back in the chair and watched his son's fitful sleep.