A hacking cough drew Steph's attention to the kitchen entrance when she was just about done with preparing everything for the soup, and there stood Dean, glorious even with the serious case of cow's lick he had going on at the right side of his head and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked so exhausted it wasn't even funny.

Secretly Steph found the fact that he couldn't sneak up on her at the moment very satisfying, though she would not dare say that out loud to him, and even felt a bit ashamed of considering something delightful in his misery.

"Why are we listening to Christian rock?" he muttered in half-hearted annoyance, wincing a little around his sore throat. His voice was much rougher than just two hours ago when he had lied down, probably due to all the coughing he had been doing.

She had listened to Brother, which was still playing, for like the twentieth time in a row by now, just about knowing the lyrics by heart, even the verses.

"Because it rocks?" Steph shrugged with a nonchalant smirk, drying her hands on the kitchen towel after placing the lid on the pot. Now it was just a matter of waiting for it all to cook together on low heat.

"Haha. Funny," Dean remarked sardonically, slumping into one of chairs, then shuddered slightly as the need to sneeze overtook him, cupping his face. "HAEH'ktschuu…ugh"

"How are you feeling?" the girl appraised him with a watchful as he propped his head in one of his palms, barely keeping his posture upright. He looked so shivery and miserable. At least he threw on that house robe over his sleeping clothes. Still, being up and about was not a good idea in her opinion.

"Like crap," he moaned pitifully, closing his eyes, fully past the point of trying to look tough.

"Then what are you doing out of bed, sweetie?" Steph asked softly, coming to stand beside him, placing a hand at the back of his neck, which was radiating so much heat. His fever must have been pretty bad too. How he was still coherent?

"Lonely," the older Winchester offered the simple explanation, but she had a feeling that there was more to it. Probably nightmares.

She really needed to find out just how worse off he was, fortunately remembering that they had a first aid kit in the kitchen too, which should have an extra thermometer, even if the old mercury kind that you had to wait like five minutes on to get a reading. Just had to be careful not to break it.

Steph reluctantly let go of Dean to scour for the instrument – not wanting to go farther, like into their room for the other one – and he almost fell out of the chair desperately trying to maintain the contact between them before he readjusted himself, placing his head down on the cool tabletop. It actually felt kind of nice against his overheated skin.

"Here," the girl offered the thermometer a few seconds later, earning a quirked brow of skepticism from Dean at the ancient thing.

"Wow," he muttered in a smart-alecky way, coughing lightly as the air caught in his throat.

"I'm a woman of many wonders," Steph smiled at him amusedly, her cheeky side showing in response to the banter.

"Mhm… Wonder Woman?" Dean sighed, a loopy little smile worming its way onto his face too.

"Only if you are Batman," she quipped, recalling that particular pairing from the DC universe, marveling – ha! pun intended – at the streak of geekiness the older Winchester possessed. Cowboys, everything Western and Batman for the most part. Honestly he had no right to call Sam, Charlie and her out on their brands of fandoms, when he was almost as bad with others.

"Yeah… I'm Batman," the hunter drawled his words slightly, sniggering – which of course then made him cough again – as he recalled a particularly funny case they had with a cursed rabbit foot like seven or eight years ago. He really felt like Batman with all the luck he had.

"Sure you are, honey," Steph cooed, chuckling to herself. "Now, open up."

Dean warily eyed the thing a little bit again before complying, his face in a frown until Stephanie returned her hand into his hair. How much just a small touch could do. After she deemed that enough time had passed she removed the tube of glass from his mouth, noting that he himself was at 103.5, which wasn't all that much better than his brother's. Steph rustled around with her free hand in the shopping bags still unpacked on the table, finding another box of Advil. Yeah, she wasn't kidding about just grabbing a bunch of whatever that was in front of her and getting out of there like a bat from hell.

Steph offered two pills to Dean too, moving to pour him a glass of water when he just dry swallowed them, almost choking. It seemed like he was in need of constant supervision, clearly not learning from earlier mistakes. He took the glass from her greedily, gulping down the water to ease the tightness in his throat.

"Alright, the bed awaits," Steph ushered him. "I'll come lie down with you after I check on Sam."

"I…" he cleared his throat painfully as it cracked against his attempt at speaking. "I'll come with."

Based on the look on his face he really didn't want to stay alone. Yeah, definitely nightmares, or more like fever dreams. Those were the worst. Still Steph couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at his mulish way of pushing through when all his body wanted to do was just to crash.


Sam was passed out in the exact same position in which Steph had left him, his brows just a tiny bit furrowed in discomfort, mouth slack as he snored. Dean quickly collapsed in the armchair while he waited for her.

The younger Winchester stirred instantly when she removed the towel from his forehead and placed a hand against his face, squinting up at her a bit mystified.

"Hey," he muttered groggily through his parched mouth. He looked somewhat better, not as warm and alert at least, although his voice was so stuffed up and congested Steph had to wonder how he was breathing through it at all. The answer to that was that he wasn't.

"Hey to you too, welcome back to the land of the living," she chuckled, giving him the half empty glass of water that was still on the bedside table from earlier.

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, gratefully accepting the offered drink, before noticing that something was definitely different about himself compared to the last time he had memory of, which was somewhere around the time they were sitting on the floor of the garage.

"Did sombeonde… did you undress mbe?" the younger Winchester mumbled confusedly as he took his attire in with a quick peek under his blanket. Yeah, he definitely didn't have pants on, but did not dare to voice that with Dean present. Sam knew how irrational he could get when it came to his women.

"You were boiling, Sam. You had a fever of over 104," Steph stated matter-of-factly, almost feeling the surge of jealous possessiveness from Dean at the fact that she in a position where she had to take Sam's clothes off, mixed in with immense worry at his brother's health, pounding against the back of her head.

"Oh," was all Sam said as acknowledgement, not remembering anything at all from the hour during which Steph diligently sat by his side with the wet washcloth. He reached for the tissues, trying to blow his nose, but he was utterly blocked up, his eyes and face hurting from the effort. Great, he thought sarcastically.

"What? Why didn't you wake me or something?" Dean snapped at Steph, suddenly alert, wincing a little as he hurt his throat, but his tone was accusatory nonetheless.

"Anyway, I need to see where you are at now," she pointedly ignored him and kept her attention on Sam as she handed him the thermometer, because honestly what could have he done, had she dragged him out of bed? Wrestle Sam out of his clothes? Probably, but she was able to that by herself too. Dean was in no shape to carry around his 200-pound brother either. So what would had been the point if they wouldn't have been able to get Sam to the bathtub even between the two of them? Getting Dean even sicker from the exertion? No, thank you!

"Stephanie…" the older Winchester growled, his temper flaring.

"Shush. Some people are actually trying to rest in here, if you can't keep quiet you can go wait for me in the other room too," the girl quipped over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice level, since yelling wouldn't help anything. Her patience was wearing thin too, but she didn't want to outright call him out on the bullshit of his current overprotectiveness.

"This isn't a joke, dammit!" Dean barked, as if specifically trying to push her buttons. She hated when he got all alpha male-y on her.

"Do I look like I'm laughing? I took care of him, his temp is down," Steph said with a sigh, utterly tired of this conversation already. Seriously, not ten minutes ago everything was so easy and light between the two of them. Where had that disappeared to?

"Hey, I'mb sitting right here…" Sam mumbled around the instrument in his mouth in discontentment for being argued about like a child whose parents were on the brink of divorce, his words seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"I called Cas, if he doesn't come or you guys are not at least marginally better by tomorrow morning we are going to the doctor's to get you some antibiotics or something," she announced levelly, somehow still keeping it together and not shouting as she secretly wanted to. "End of discussion. Neither of you are in any shape to help me with getting the other to a cooling bath anyway so stop freaking fussing and let me do my best."

Sam had the decency to stay quiet and see the common sense in her words, casting a wary glance to his brother, while Dean just huffed angrily and stormed out of the room. Well, as much someone with a fever of 103 could storm out. More like staggered. He was so damned moody. Worse than usual.

Coming as a welcome distraction, Sam's thermometer beeped and she was happy to see that it was down to 101.9. Yay for Advil. It worked. Or the "sponging" did. It didn't matter which, she was just happy that his brain wasn't frying itself anymore.

"Are you hungry at all? I'll have soup ready in about a half an hour," Steph asked forcing herself not to dwell on Dean and just remain in a bubble of calm where everything was fine, and she could just concentrate on taking care of her sick boys.

"Yeah… huh… huh'rgnxchshshsh…" he sneezed congestedly into the tissue he still had balled up in his hand, the pressure behind his eyes making his face hurt like hell for a moment. He tried to blow his nose again, but still nothing.

"Sinuses?" Steph watched him knowingly as he gave her just the tiniest bit of a nod before sneezing again.

"HUH'gdnxsheew… heh… eh'gkrshooo…uh"

Sam looked like his head was ready to explode. Yeah, definitely dragging him to a clinic tomorrow.

"Soupb's awesombe," he mumbled after finally giving up on trying to clear his nose, and just lying back down against his pillows, thinking that maybe the steam from that would loosen this blasted congestion a bit too.

"I'll bring in a bowl as soon as it's ready," Steph stood, patting his leg comfortingly, bracing herself to go and find where Dean had gone off to brood.

"Uhb, please go easy ond himb, he is just ndot feeligg well," Sam glanced at her sheepishly.

"I know. Don't worry, he'll get some TLC too, so he doesn't feel left out," she chuckled, truly amazed at how they would always have each other's backs. And honestly she could have handled Dean better earlier.


As it turned out Dean didn't go far at all, just right next door into her room, huddled into bed with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking all stoic and macho. From the doorway, for all intents and purposes it seemed like he was asleep but Steph couldn't imagine how anyone could sleep like that.

She slipped in under the blanket beside him, noting that his breathing wasn't all leveled out. Not asleep then.

"Can we move past this? Sam is okay now. There's nothing you could have done to help me besides worrying and nagging, and you need to focus on getting better yourself, alright?" Steph tried with the voice of reason, all remnants of her earlier irritation gone.

"I hate this," Dean admitted, opening his eyes, but relaxing his rigid posture.

"I know," she sighed, understanding his need to be there for his brother very much and his frustration at being unable to do so as well. She opened her arms invitingly. "C'mere, let me get you dosed up on all my caring."

"Psht, you make me sound like an addict," he huffed but snuggled up to her, placing his head on her chest anyway, letting her get her fingers work their magic against his skull. The heat from his skin hit her immediately, enveloping her in a mini sauna. Hopefully the Advil will work for him too soon.

"In a way we are all addicted to love. Blame the chemicals in our brains if you want, but I think we just all need someone beside us shining like a lighthouse from the sea," Steph offered her on the spot philosophy, knowing full well just how cheesy that sounded.

Dean snorted. "You've been listening to that song way too much."

Steph had to smile at the fact that enough of the lyrics had stuck with him that he knew what she was talking about. He paid attention to her and her likes then.

"Doesn't make it any less true," the girl gibed good-humoredly.

"Alright, enough of the chick flick moment," the older Winchester griped as if he was offended by all this open show of emotion. For some reason Steph got the impression that under all those layers of tough façade he actually enjoyed them, practically craved them too from time to time, like there was no other way to clear the air after a rough fight.

He started coughing again, angling his face downward towards her stomach as he tried to control it to avoid coughing towards her face, causing Stephanie's brows to furrow further and further in concern with every second it lasted.

"Yeah, a trip to a doctor is not a half-bad idea," Steph mused out loud, her fingers skimming down along his spine as she tried to soothe him. She wasn't sure if the slight shiver that ran through him was due to pleasure or the chills from the fever so she brought the blanket up closer around his shoulders.

"Please, this is nothing," he scoffed before sniffling. "I'll be up and running by tomorrow."

"Aye, you would be more convincing if I couldn't practically hear the air rustling in your lungs with every breath you take," she chided mildly, laying her head down on top of his as she hugged him. There was no deterring her from tomorrow's plans. She just really hoped it wasn't turning into pneumonia. Those were scary.

"Every move you make…" Dean deflected by humming that popular The Police song.

"Aaand now we are getting into stalker territory," the girl laughed out humorlessly.

"Come one, it's a classic," the hunter frowned against her chest, not understanding her passionate dislike.

"I thought you said soft rock was… well… soft… and seriously those lyrics creep me out. I'll be watching you… Brrrr. If you ask me that freaking song was Stephanie Meyer's whole inspiration for Edward's character in Twilight," Steph kept ranting on, gesticulating wildly with her hand that wasn't wrapped around Dean.

"Alright, you win, just don't bring up the sparkly fairy-vampires," he muttered, relenting to her will, pulling her even closer by her waist. "Maybe this fever is melting my brain into a mush."

"All's forgiven," she smiled fondly. "Get some shut eye, there'll be soup waiting for you on the other end."