This story is a follow-up to the chapter "Crumbles to the Ground", and takes place the morning after that one ended.
"Dean!" came an urgent whisper. Dean woke immediately.
"Whasit, Sammy?" He squinted upwards. The sun was barely peeking into the motel room from the windows with their curtains drawn.
"I don't feel good," Sam whimpered.
Dean sat up quickly. Sam was perched on the bed next to him. The six-year-old looked pale and sick. "What's wrong, Sammy? Talk to me."
"My head hurts and my throat hurts and my tummy hurts," Sam listed. "I'm cold but my forehead feels hot."
Dean reached over to press his the back of his hand to Sam's forehead like he had done the night before. "You've still got a fever," he said matter-of-factly. "You feel worse, though, Sammy?"
He nodded at his big brother miserably. "Feel like 'm gonna throw up," he admitted.
Dean groaned. "Go over to the bathroom, I guess. I'll be there in a minute."
"'kay," Sam agreed readily and stumbled over to the tiny bathroom connected to their room. As Dean climbed out of bed tiredly, he heard a retching noise, and hurried the rest of the way over. Sam was just flushing the toilet when Dean came in. The little boy was clutching at his ribs and looked up at Dean miserably.
The ten-year-old sighed and knelt down on the floor next to him. "Feeling a little better?" he asked hopefully.
Sam shook his head slightly before starting to gag again, coughing and heaving, but there was nothing left in his stomach. He started whimpering, and Dean realized that he couldn't find time to breathe. He began rubbing his little brother's back gently, trying to calm him down. "C'mon, Sammy, c'mon, bud. It's okay, just breathe." After a little while, Sam regained his breath shakily. Dean grabbed one of the paper cups sitting next to the sink and filled it with water. "Rinse," he ordered, handing it to Sam.
Sam did so. "Feel a little better," he whispered weakly. Dean was getting out a washcloth and soaking it.
"Here," he said. He placed it on the back of Sam's neck. Sam let out a whine and tried to push it away.
"Cold!" he protested loudly. Then he started coughing, and moaned as that jarred his already sore stomach muscles. "Owwwwww..." he said when he had stopped coughing. "It hurts."
"I know, Sammy, I know. Can we go back into the other room now?" Dean asked.
"Think so. Yeah." Dean helped him stand up, and walked with him over to the bed. Sam climbed up and flopped onto his back with a long-suffering sigh. "Deeeaan…" he said.
"Whaddya need?"
"Water please.
"Yep," Dean replied, and got him a glass of water. Sam sat up to drink it, and then started coughing again, and then sneezed several times in a row. Dean had to grab the cup out of his hands, or else he would have dropped it in his effort to cover his nose and mouth. Sam's slight frame shook with every cough. When the coughing finally subsided, he looked up and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. Dean realized that the kid was really miserable.
Aside from being glazed with tears, his big brown eyes were glassy with fever. "I'm going to get you your Tylenol for your fever," Dean said gently. "But first, do you think you could eat a piece of bread, buddy?"
"Maybe half of one," Sam murmured. "I'm not feeling like I'm gonna throw up again, if that's what you mean."
"Okay, good, because taking Tylenol on a totally empty stomach might make you throw up again, and we don't want that." Dean got a piece of bread and a napkin off the counter next to the stove and brought it over to Sam, who nibbled at the edge of the crust tentatively. Then he started eating it more quickly, as if just realizing that he was hungry. "Slowly," Dean reminded.
Sam finished a little over half of the bread, and then handed it back to Dean with the napkin. "That's 'nough."
"What'm I supposed to do with this, hey?" Dean said, mock-seriously, holding the bread by the napkin gingerly, pretending to be afraid of catching Sam's germs left on where he had bitten it. Sam giggled a little, and Dean smiled back, glad that his little brother was feeling that well, at least. He placed the bread on the counter for later and got out the bottle of Children's Tylenol. He poured the correct amount into the cap/cup that conveniently came with the bottle.
Sam made a face at the sight of the purple, sticky medicine, but he swallowed it without complaint. Dean gave him his glass of water again to wash out the overly sweet, purple flavor. (Both of them agreed that while the bottle said "Grape Flavored" it really tasted like pure purple. They knew that purple was a color and not a taste, but if purple did have a taste...it would taste like Grape Flavored Children's Tylenol.)
Then he started coughing again, and he couldn't stop for at least two minutes. His eyes were filled with tears again by the time he had caught his breath, and this time they started to fall. Dean hopped right up on the bed next to him and wrapped him in his arms. "No cry, Sammy, no cry," he murmured, in the same way that he had when Sam had been much younger. "You'll feel better soon, I promise. Go to sleep, okay? Just go to sleep."
Sammy buried his face in Dean's side, trying not to let out a sob. Dean pulled him completely into his lap. "Go to sleep. Shh."
"I...I want…" Sam managed between sobs.
"What is it, Sammy?"
"I don't know!" Sam admitted brokenly. "I don't know what it is."
And that's when Dean's heart broke. Because he knew what Sammy wanted; exactly what he would want if he felt this miserable-something neither of them could have. Their mother. And Dean could try, but he would never be that. He held Sam tighter. "I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Sammy. Shh, go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."
Sam kept crying. "Shhh…" Dean whispered, and started to sing quietly. "Hey, Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…" Their mom had sung that to both of them when she was still alive, and though Dean knew that Sammy wouldn't remember it, he did. Sam was starting to quiet down now, and his sobs were ceasing. "Remember, to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better…"
Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope I didn't break your heart with the ending...I know you've probably read a fic with "Hey Jude" in it before, so it probably didn't come as a shock. But I may have broken mine a little. Your reviews and feedback and thoughts might help mend it a little, though! Seriously, it makes my day a heck of a lot better to get a review. I love you! DFTBA! ~Clare