Chapter Eleven

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I knew I was flirting dangerously with Sam's health, leaving the hospital early, but truth was our insurance had run out. Not to mention Sam wasn't the only one going stir-crazy in that room. I knew how taxing taking the stairs would be for him, but we couldn't risk being seen getting on the elevator; which was directly across the nurses' station.

We'd been going at a slow steady pace. My arm wrapped around Sam's waist, his right hand gripping the cold, rusted handrail.

It was eight grueling levels to the parking garage. Sam had done fairly well the first three flights, but now he was more stumbling than walking and looking pretty darn winded. It seemed more like we were going uphill through ten feet of snow rather than heading down a dingy stairwell.

"You need to sit and take a minute?" I asked glancing over at Sam.

"Just warming up," Sam huffed and puffed. "When did you have time to get the Impala?" he asked purposely changing the subject.

"Didn't, had her towed."

"You had Baby towed?"

"She'll forgive me, and besides, I had my hands kinda full, Sammy."

"Still do," Sam chuckled, and skipped a step falling forward.

"Whoa!" I snatched him up by his jacket collar. "Hey, hey, walk will you?" I barked, brushing up closer and hugging him to my hip.

"I am walking, Dean," Sam protested, his voice barely rising above the sound of our clomping footsteps echoing off the cement walls.

"That what you call it."

"I call shotgun," Sam muttered, shuffling along.

"Bro, you need to lie down in the back seat you're still a bit loopy."

"Just got off a two week sleep festival, Dean, believe me…I'll be more comfortable up front next to you."

Sam's pale skin and panting breaths and crazy hair did nothing to ease my worry.

"Eight days, not two weeks. And while that's all very flattering, Sam, you are shit-canned already, man, and you have not even been up on your feet for twenty minutes."

"I'm perfectly perfect, Dean."

"You've got a winning combination of injuries that are still a ways off from being healed up," I said.

"No early to bed routines at Bobby's, please," Sam whined. "I'm so sick of the sick, you understand?"

"Too well," I said stopping at the next landing because I didn't like how Sam was wheezing. "This is what I'm talking about."

" Dean." Sam tried to tug away, but I wouldn't let him. "We're not going to do this routine the whole way to Bobby's I can handle myself."

"Will you give me a break?" I looked at him sternly.

"You?" Sam squawked obviously offended.

"Yes, me," I said angrily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something smartass I'm sure, but I stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Look, "I took in a breath trying to calm my edgy nerves. "Call me nutty, call me a fruit cake, but Sam, I think I have a right after the crap you pulled on me."

Sam's brows went up questioningly.

"I thought you were going to die man," I exclaimed, letting out my pent up emotions. "Hell, Sam you did, and you scared the crap out of me. I don't ever want to feel like that again. If I ever feel like that again, bro, I might have to do something desperate...you understand?"

Sam gave a curt nod as I still had my finger pressed to his lips keeping him quiet.

"So when I ask you to take it easy, and drink your water, or take a nap, eat your Wheaties, take your Bugs Bunny meds, or just plain stop being a Sammybitch….you damn well need to do that for me right now, or I swear. I swear I will lose it. And if I lose it, I am going to end up a ward of the Jif factory. Got it?" I glared at him, slowly taking my finger away from his lips.

Sam squirmed uncomfortably, his eyes watering as his armor cracked.

Good.

"Come on three more levels to go. Just breathe easy." I maneuvered us around the bend, keeping a tight arm around Sam's waist as we took the steps a little slower.

Sam rolled his eyes at me, but allowed the help.

I gave Captain Marvel a quick look, he was clearly unstable, but I decided to let him go it for now and just kept as close to the independent geek as I dared.

We finally got to the car and I opened the passenger side door for Sam. "Cushy leather," I said with a smile. "You win this one," I surrendered. "You can ride shotgun, but don't get cocky."

Sam narrowed his eyes at me.

"It's only because I want to keep a close eye on you," I explained.

Sam cocked his head at me and gave me a pissy look.

I waved a hand with flourish. "Your carriage awaits, my queen."

Sam said nothing and climbed in. "Don't let your dress ride up, Francis," I chuckled.

Sam grouched settling into the seat and clamping his lower lip with his upper teeth, but a grunt of pain escaped anyway.

I pretended I didn't hear it and shut the door, got behind the wheel, and headed us the hell out of dodge and toward the freeway.

Ten miles down the road, I was barely getting away with my tactical sideways glances. Every time Sam caught my eyes I could tell how badly he wanted to yell at me to stop it, or worse sucker punch me. Maybe my gut spilling speech did the trick and little brother would march to my tune. At least for the time being. I knew it wouldn't last. Because I know my brother.

I tried to drive slowly and avoid any major bumps or potholes - judging by the way Sam kept his eyes front and center biting back moans and groans as we went - it didn't seem to matter. The trip down the stairs and into the car had taken its toll on Sam. He was soaked in sweat and his eyes were small. I knew he'd overdone it, and I just wanted to get him to Bobby's right now. But we had a bit of a drive ahead of us.

I slowed the car and reached in the backseat for a couple of waters. "Here." I handed Sam over a bottle, surprised when he took it, cracked the top and downed it heartily. "Hey, go easy on that." I opened my own and took small sips trying to set the example.

Sam mimicked me, clutching at his right side and leaning his head back against the seat.

"How about you getting some shut eye?" I asked, though it was more of an order I tried to word it nicely.

Sam turned his head slowly and looked at me as if I'd shot his dog. "I understand, Dean, you were freaked, and I'm sorry you had to go through that, but you have to understand too," he said politely.

I stiffened waiting for more of a confrontation, but it didn't come. He simple reached out a hand, took a hold of my arm and pulled himself across the seat until he sagged heavily against me and laid his head on my shoulder.

I found it hard to swallow past the lump that formed in my throat, but managed to say in a cocky tone, "You comfy?"

Sam nodded yes, breathed lightly then was out.

"Huh?" I turned the radio on low and headed toward the freeway.

Six cups of bad coffee, three tanks of gas, one roadside pit stop so Sammy could throw up, and a snails crawl of rush hour traffic later, I decided we needed to pull over for the night. The last two motels I'd stopped at, both had their no vacancies signs and the same held true for the third – a small country Bed and Breakfast.

I stomped out of the front door and back to where I'd parked the Impala under a lamppost.

Sammy had done as I'd asked while I'd gone to check on a room, and hadn't moved looking exhausted and beyond sleep.

I ripped open the door and plopped down behind the wheel, slamming the door shut.

"No rooms?" Sam asked weakly.

"It's friggin' Bethlehem," I barked.

"We can just sleep in the Pala, Dean."

"For Christ's sake, Sam, you want to end up in an ER!" I shouted. "You need proper rest." There came a flash of lighting followed by driving rain banging against the roof and sliding down in sheets over the windshield. "Oh, this just gets better and better."

"Dean, look," Sam muttered.

"Sam, don't start with that 'look' crap."

"No, I mean, look." He pointed out the windshield.

I followed Sam's pointing finger, leaning over the steering wheel and peering out into the rain. A woman in a green rainslicker, rubber boots and umbrella to match was running our way.

"Who is that?"

"Innkeeper," I grouched, rolling down my window as she came to stand outside my door.

"I feel really bad," she spoke over the sound of the rain, pulling the umbrella down closer to her head. "I know you said your brother wasn't feeling well, and we are all booked, but if you'd like there's a small goat barn with lots of hay and it's dry and free of drafts." She shrugged looking embarrassed if not ashamed. "No charge."

I nodded. "We'll take it."

"Great, I'll throw in some blankets and a couple of cans of heated soup and crackers too. It's just out back." She pointed beyond the motel. "You can pull up to the office to park, but you'll have to walk the rest of the way." She looked over at Sam worriedly.

"Thanks, that's very kind of you, and we'll be just fine," Sam said.

She smiled at him. "Oh, and here," she handed me a folded umbrella through the window, then ran back to the office.

"Friggin' nativity scene," I hissed.

"Dean, it's something. We've had worse."

"Yeah, well you get to be the Madonna with child. I'll be Joseph."

"You'd make a better Donkey…since you're such an ass," Sam snorted, then laughed.

"You'd make a better Donkey…since you're such an ass," I echoed back mockingly, actually glad to be the butt – pun intended – of Sam's joke. It felt good to hear him laugh.

I pulled the car up to the office and gathered up a few things into one duffle bag, then exited the car. "Don't worry, Sammy," I opened his door. "I'll take good care of you," I said fumbling to shoulder the duffle while at the same time trying to open the umbrella.

I expected some sort of smartass remark about not being five, but Sam slowly swung his feet out onto the pavement and was coming up to stand.

"Wait, wait," I said still having not gotten the umbrella opened, and watching Sam's bangs plaster over his eyes. "Damn it."

"Don't worry if you can't get it up, Dean," Sam murmured, gripping onto the open passenger door for balance.

"Dude! I can always get it up," I screwed with the umbrella a few seconds more.

"Dean, let's just go, by the time you get it up –"

"Stop saying that!" I screeched, seeing Sammy was already nearly drenched to the bone. I tossed the umbrella into the car took him by the arm and slammed the door. "Come on."

"I can do it myself," Sam protested.

"Shut it, Rebel without a Cause."

Strangely enough, Sam did as I asked and shut it while I bundled him close and dashed as fast as I dared toward the shed.

We ducked our heads against the cold, blowing wind trotting behind the motel and splashing down a cobblestone path that reminded me of the Bistro painting in Sam's hospital room.

I slid open the shed door and we rushed inside, both of us shivering from the rain. I kept a grip on Sam's arm as he waivered slightly taking in our accommodations.

There wasn't much to the shed. It smelled of honey,oats, dust and milk. Reminded me of that organic crap cereal Sam was always eating. The lighting was dim, lit by a few overhead hanging bulbs, and the place was indeed full of hay. The motel manager had already left the blankets, and the promised two bowls of heated soup and crackers on a sawhorse. She even provided paper napkins. Good news was I could plump the hay up to make a pretty comfortable bed for Sammy; bad news was the place was also full of goats.

"Ho...ly shit," I snarled when one of the Billy goat's gruff came up to me and started nibbling on the corner pocket of my jacket. "Hey, Butch, that's real leather, get your lips off." I bellowed, a flash of lightning followed by a clash of thunder backing me up.

The four-legged trashcan startled and bounced off to a corner stall, gathering with a few others.

"You didn't have to scare it," Sam said softly.

"Damn mutt ripped my jacket."

"It's not a dog, Dean. They're Nigerian Dwarf goats."

I frowned at Sam.

"What?" He frowned back.

My frown deepened. "You seriously have issues."

"Whatever," Sam shivered.

"Whatever is right, let's just get you situated. I sat Sam down on an overturned bucket. "Out of those wet clothes."

Sam sighed, but didn't argue as I stretched and struggled to get the soaked shirt over his head allowing him to handle the jeans. I let him get himself into a pair of jogging pants and a tee shirt. It pained me to see Sam struggle with such a simple act, but I figured I owned him some dignity. While Sam did that, I plumped up two mounds of hay and draped the blankets over top to make a sort of bed for us.

"Well, there you have it."

"Not too bad." Sam crawled onto his bed and I covered him with one of our own blankets.

"Not too bad? Bro, it's awesome."

Sam shifted sluggishly to get comfortable.

I glanced over at the small group of dwarf …whatever's…they were all curled up side by side and sleeping.

Outside, the rain poured down, but inside, sweat poured down my brother's face.

"Sammy." I crawled over my hay mound bed to sit beside him, and placed a hand to his forehead. "You're warm." I scowled, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, and dampening it with a bottle of water I'd retrieved from our duffels.

Sam winced, his normally bright hazel eyes dark and fussy, searching mine.

"You hurt?"

"Little."

"Finally an admission."

I leaned over and dragged the duffle bag into my lap turned to the duffle bag and started digging around inside.

"Dean, no drugs, I mean it, man. Not tonight."

I whipped out a deck of cards. "Let's play," I removed the cards and arched them into a bridge letting them fall sifting together. "Name your poison, Sammy."

"Gin Rummy."

"Gin it is."

We sipped our soup and played a few hands, until Sam's fingers started to twitch slightly and he yawned, desperately reorganizing his card and fighting to keep his eyes.

I smiled fondly when he discarded the Ace of clubs, just as he gave into sleep and tilted sideways. I quickly dropped my cards and caught him, slipping a hand behind his head to cradle it in my palm as I lowered him down into the hay. "There you go, buddy." I laid the back of my hand against his cheek checking his fever. He was still slightly warm.

Sam drew in a breath and forced his eyelids upward, capturing my gaze.

"Go back to sleep, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam sluggishly called my name, shoulders sagging as he curled toward me.

I settled closer to him and he sighed, seeming happy for the warmth.

The rest of the night went pretty much like that. With me waking every few hours to roll over and check Sam for fever. Sam briefly waking long enough to slur a disgruntled word or two then drifting back off.

Luckily his fever never got too high, and by early morning I let myself drift off soundly.

I woke to one of the Dwarfs – I think it was Sloppy- as he was licking my face.

"Son of a bitch." I bolted upright "Nasty." I shoved the goat away wiping my face on my sleeve. I looked over to see if my rude awakening had wakened Sam, but Sam was gone.

"Shit!" I leapt into action, fumbling to unwrap myself from the blanket. He was nowhere inside the shed, so I bolted out the sliding door into the sunshine.

"Sammy!" I called out loudly.

"Be right there. Just wait." Came the quick reply from behind the shed.

I splashed around the side of the building, rounding the corner just in time to see Sam zipping up his fly. "Dean," he scolded. "I said –"He slipped in the mud. One foot yanked out from under him with enough force to fling him flat to his back.

I rushed to his side and caught him by the front of his shirt yanking him upward and into hug before that could happen. "Mother of crap." I held Sam to me. "What the hell, Sammy?"

"I had to pee." Sam wiggled out of my hold, and retreated backward obviously disgusted.

"You mean piss...men say piss, Sam."

"You say piss...I say shut up, Dean."

I rolled my eyes. "You should have woke me."

Sam huffed in obvious aggravation hardening his stare. "Dean, I'm not going to wake you every time I need to preform a bodily function."

"Yes, you will." I stepped into his personal space and pressed a hand to the side of his neck then to his cheek then to his forehead.

"Back off, Dude." Sam took a step back and inhaled.

"Not until your incision is dressed, and you are fed, pilled, and watered. Come on. "I grabbed him by the arm and towed him back into the shed.

As dictated, by me, the big brother, Sam was fed a small continental breakfast I snagged from the Inn, watered and pilled.

"You ready to leave yet?" I waited impatiently in the doorway, while Sam pet each goat goodbye.

Sam stared at me mutley a second then went back to petting the goats.

"You pissed?" I asked.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"That you're enjoying petting those dwarfs too much."

Sam exhaled a long breath and stormed past me to the car.

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We'd been on the road again for half the day when my phone rang and I answered. "Hey, Bobby. We'll be there soon...how's Sam?" I glanced over at my grumpy brother. "I'll let you ask him. Here." I handed the phone over. "Booby wants to talk to you," I laughed.

"Shut up." Sam scowled, snagging the phone. "Hi Bobby," He over pronounced the name, eyeing me the whole time. "How do I feel?" Sam cocked his head in thought. "Henpecked," he said, scowl deepening. "No. You're right. I'm trying to understand it from his perspective, Bobby, and I get it I do…but there's no pleasing him. I need some space. Sam, rest…Sam, drink water…Sam, keep warm…Sam, eat your food…Sam, don't walk so far away from me…Sam, time for you to take your damn pills. Sam, tie your shoes."

"Tattletale," I snipped, rolling my eyes.

"I don't know, Bobby. Hold on I'll ask him." Sam turned my way and groaned pressing his elbow against his side to hold his ribs. "Bobby wants to know who gave you permission to be boss of me?"

I almost said dad but thought better of it. "Driver picks the music, driver picks the food, driver picks when, where, and why, driver gets to henpeck stubborn baby brother, driver…"

"…is a jerk," Sam slunk down in the seat and moaned

"And the passenger has a smartass cakehole." I snatched the phone away from Sam. "Bobby, you still there? Yes, sir. Yes I'm listening." I licked my lips nervously. "Yeah. Okay. I hear you. See you in a couple of hours." I hung up and stared out the windshield quietly berated.

Sam shifted in his seat and moaned again.

"You're hurting." I shot him a worried look.

"Just stiff. What'd Bobby say?"

"Said a man ain't bossed by nobody 'cept his wife…and I'm not your wife."

Sam laughed, "Could have fooled me."

"Shut up, Sam, and –"

"And go to sleep," Sam yawned. "Good idea." He slipped further down into the seat and inched closer to the passenger door laying his head against the window.

"Good boy." I grabbed the blanket that was tossed between us and gently laid it over Sam, then tuned the radio to a soft rock station.

TBC…