When Sam got back to the room, Dean was curled on his side, hugging his arms around himself and shivering. He hated what he'd have to do. After wetting a towel, Sam filled it with as much ice as it'd hold folded up, and brought it to the bed. "Dean, I've gotta put this on your head, okay?"

As soon as the cold registered, Dean flailed, "What the hell! I'm already freezing, Sam!"

"No, Dean, you're burning up," Sam argued. "You've gotta cool down. I brought you some Tylenol, but I afraid you're gonna throw up if you have any more drugs in your system."

"Gimme the damn Tylenol," Dean grumbled.

"Sit up," Sam instructed as he grabbed the pills from his pocket and reached for a bottle of water he'd grabbed from the vending machine outside.

Dean slowly pushed himself up, taking the pills from Sam's hand and putting them in his mouth, then reached for the bottle, weakly, and took a few sips before handing it back. He kinda lingered there for a moment, his eyes floating a bit, looking nowhere in particular. His face was flushed pink from the fever, and he looked so vulnerable to Sam right now.

Sam put a hand on Dean's cheek, just to feel if the fever was as bad, still, or worse. Dean met his eyes with a bit of question. "I don't remember ever seeing you like this before, Dean," Sam told him, concern washing his face.

Dean stared for a moment, then casually replied, "Am I purple?" Sam let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly as Dean's lids grew heavy again.

He led Dean to lie back down, and put the ice pack back over his forehead. "I'm gonna try and find you something to eat," Sam told him. "You'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay..."

"Dean..." Sam didn't want to leave him, but it'd been more than 24 hours since either of them ate anything. He grabbed Dean's cell out of his jacket pocket and placed it in Dean's hand. "If something happens...if you start to feel worse, you call me right away, okay?"

"Kay."

"I mean it. There's a diner not far from here. I could walk there, but it'd be faster to drive. I'll be back in five minutes. Five minutes, okay?"

"I'm not an invalid, Sam."

"Good to hear," Sam stood from the bed. "Just...don't get up, okay? If you need something, wait till I get back."

"What if I gotta pee?"

"Hold it."

"You're not the boss of me," he replied, pathetically.

"I am, till you're better."

"Says who?"

"Says the guy who can stand up straight without falling over, and maintain a normal body temperature without the aid of medication. Now, let me go get you some food. Stay put!" Dean simply grunted in response, and Sam grabbed the keys and locked Dean in the room before heading to the diner as fast as he could manage.

True to his word, Sam was back in just a little over 5 minutes. Dean was out cold, again. But as Sam checked his forehead with the back of his hand, he could tell his fever wasn't burning quite as hot anymore. He walked back to the door to lock it, then opened the paper bag to retrieve the container of creamy chicken noodle soup that he was so relieved they had. It wasn't often that they caught a break, with the little things especially.

After unwrapping the plastic spoon and cracking the lid open on the container, Sam made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down. "Dean," he shook him lightly by the arm.

"Mm?"

"Food."

"Mm," he grunted.

"You gotta sit up, Dean."

He grunted, or more groaned and forced himself to crack open his eyes as he pushed up and back against the wall behind the bed. "What's for dinner?" he asked, groggily.

"Chicken noodle."

When Dean put together how Sam was sitting, and how he was holding the soup, he got a thoughtful expression on his face. "What're you gonna feed me, now?"

"Well..."

"Dude, just give me the bowl. I'm sick, not paralyzed."

*~.~*

The sun was just starting to peek in through the curtains, after both brothers had gotten a decent night of sleep. Sam was pulled into consciousness by the sound of Dean violently coughing in the bed next to his. He shot up in an instant, just in time to see Dean get up and go toward the bathroom.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked. Dean didn't answer. But he hadn't shut the door behind him, either. Sam got up and followed after him, finding his brother hovering over the toilet, keeping himself standing with a hand against the wall behind it. The coughing seemed painful, as Dean was clutching his other hand to his chest and his eyes were squeezed closed. Sam stood by, helplessly, watching as Dean struggled against it; swallowing in attempt to ease it back some. But it wouldn't seem to stop. And then he was gagging, and Sam panicked as Dean threw up last night's soup. Though he likely knew it was going to happen, since he'd gotten himself to the bathroom.

Sam was frozen where he stood, until Dean seemed to stop and suddenly sink down to his knees on the floor, eyes still closed as he struggled to catch his breath. Sam was beside him in a heartbeat, laying a hand on his back as he down. "Dean...I should take you to a hospital."

"'m okay, now," he replied, breathlessly, opening his eyes to look over at his brother. "'sides, it's a flu, Sam. They can't do anything."

"It's kinda gotten really bad really fast," Sam retorted. "Last night I thought it was just the meds, but you're...really sick, Dean."

"Just go steal some antibiotics or something," Dean replied, casually.

"What if they don't help?"

"Then...then I'll go to a damn doctor, okay?"

"You promise?"

"Yeah I promise, Sam. Now help me off this floor."

TBC...