Dean was quick to react, quickly lurching forward, grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt, and cradling his head as he eased him down gently. "I gotcha Sammy," he assured, wiping Sam's soaked bangs off of his forehead.

At this point, Dean had no idea what to do. He's patched Sam up as well as he knew how, he's tried what medicine he could actually get his hands on, yet Sam just kept getting worse. Maybe he should have never snuck Sam out of the hospital, but if he hadn't then John would have known exactly where they were and he'd have to deal with that, but then again, he had the chance to get help when Bobby called, and yet he denied it… Every decision he made seemed to just make this shit of a situation more shit.

He takes another look down at Sam, quickly swallowing down his uncertainty, he needed to figure something out and he needed to do it now. Dean placed a hand on Sam's chest, hating how hard he seemed to be breathing, "I gotcha Sammy…" he repeated, trying to assure himself this time. Taking another second to think things through, he decided. Running his fingers through his hair with a slight tug, Dean got to his feet and went for his phone. It should have been easy to dial. In fact, it was the last number he had called so, actually dialing the number was truly just one button yet- here he was freezing. Logically, he knew that Bobby was on their side in all this, yet there was this hesitation to call. Dean shook the feeling off as he pressed the button to make the call, closing his eyes as he placed the phone on his ear.

The long dull purr of the callback tone only rang out a few times before Dean heard the relieving sound of Bobby's voice, "Dean, what's wrong?" the older man asked before Dean could even say why he was calling-but of course the old man already knew- Bobby just so happened to have a sense for these kinds of things

And just like that, Dean knew why he had been hesitant to call. He takes a deep shaky breath before saying, " I- I need your help, Bobby. He's just getting worse and I tried what I knew how to do, but I don't know how to fix him"

Bobby's tone remained calm while he started rattling off questions so he could gauge Sam's condition a little bit better, getting quick, precise answers in return.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, he was asleep, woke up making no sense, then passed out"

"Is he any hotter?"

"Yeah, feels like it", and with that response came instructions to get cold towels and some ice to cool him down, which Dean mentally kicked himself for not thinking to do so before.

As Dean came from the bathroom and back to Sam with a cold washcloth, he was then asked if Sam was responding to him, so he checked, gently tapping the kid's cheek and earning a floppy, swatting hand along with a whine in return. It kinda made him smile, " Yeah, he's responding."

"Good," Bobby sighed out in relief.

Dean could hear shuffling on Bobby's end along with the jingle of keys.

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to tell me where you are"

"Right okay, we're uh… We're nearby Omaha", He informed, having this nervous bounce in his knee that he was unaware of as he sat on the floor with Sam.

"Good, That ain't too far from where I am. Think you can sit tight for a few hours?"

Dean started with just a nod before realizing he had to respond, "Yeah-" he said as he cleared his throat, then once again to make sure he was heard.

"Alright, Dean. Just keep trying to cool him off until I get there"

Dean made a sound of confirmation before hanging up and tossing his phone aside. Taking a look down at Sam, Dean patted the kid's shoulder, "I'll be right back. Just gonna grab you some ice", he also needed to take a quick breather. Although he didn't expect an answer from Sam, he waited for a few seconds before getting up and heading out.

Unexpectedly, Dean was hit with a breeze when he stepped out into the night, but it didn't bother him any, it actually felt kinda good, the chill helped him focus on something else for just a little. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, glancing around to get a sense of his surroundings, and took note of the small things like that random guy smoking in the corner, but nothing seemed like a threat. The ice machine was a straight shot, a few doors down from them and he began shuffling towards it, keeping his head on a swivel.

He turned the corner to the small passageway that connected to the other side of the motel, squinting a little at the surprising brightness the buzzing lights of the vending machine caused. Dean took a plastic bag from the side of the ice machine, pulled the opening apart, and shook it open before holding the bag under the dispenser and collecting a good amount of ice. As the ice chips fell into the bag, he heard what sounded like a truck from the parking lot. At first, he looked just because the sound had caught his attention. The oversized wheeled pick-up that had pulled in got just enough light from the streetlamps that Dean could see a rough color, and it made his heart sink. That truck looked way too close to John's, so before he could confirm, or even really think, his feet were moving and he was back in the room.

Despite the situation, Dean's hands were steady as he locked the door including the latch, then quickly maneuvered over to the lights, flicking them all off. He slid onto his knees, pressing his back against the wall right by the window so he was hidden from outside eyes but still had a clear view of the parking lot. It seemed like whoever that car had belonged to had already gotten out and went into the motel office. A feeling of absolute dread washed over Dean, Now we're fucked, was all Dean could think about, Dad's here and we're fucked. Bobby is hours away, and there is no way for us to sneak past. We are fucked. Yet, despite knowing that there was most likely no way for them to get out of this now, Dean knew he had to try anyway, so staying low and in the dark he rushed to start collecting all of their things from around the room, the bag of ice forgotten by the door.

In mere minutes, Dean had their small number of things collected and set them by the door before pulling the blinds back and peeking outside once again. Seeing movement in the motel office, he kept watching as he saw the figure of a man heading towards the door, and walking out. Dean tried to keep his breaths calm, expecting the man heading to that parked car to be John-but it wasn't.

Dean let out a long, heavy breath as he slid down to the floor with his back pressed against the wall, covering his face with both hands for a long moment as he talked himself back into calmness. Once he got his thoughts calmed and in order, he let his hands drop down to his lap before popping back onto his feet as he grabbed the bag of ice again. Now that there was no immediate danger, Dean was able to focus his attention back on the instructions he was given.

Sam hadn't moved much, other than wrapping his arms around himself and slightly curling up. Dean took a spot right beside his baby brother, grabbing a nearby pillow and shaking the case off to wrap the cold bag in before pressing it against the back of Sam's neck and earning a groan and a shiver from the barely conscious boy. "Don't you worry Sammy-boy, help is coming, then we'll get you all better so you can go back to annoying the living hell outta me" Dean spoke in a low near-whisper, letting out a small chuckle to himself, "Hell, who am I kidding, you always annoy the hell outta me", a sigh came due to the lack of response. With a light groan, Dean got back to his feet, this time with Sam in his arms, then walked him back to the bed and got him settled in a way that seemed like it would be comfortable for him; the bag of ice put back on his neck. After some light pacing across the room, Dean dragged a chair from the table over, taking a seat at the side of the bed and kicking his feet up.

Just like he had before, Dean sat there keeping a close watch over Sam. When the ice melted, he got more. If a car was heard outside their room (or hell if there was any noise outside the room), he got up and checked it out. He had to give himself something to do other than just sit there and watch the ceiling fan blades chase themselves. For a short period of time before Bobby had gotten there Sam came to, looking up at his older brother with confusion in his eyes as they shifted around. The change in Sam's breathing as Dean had been absent-mindedly flipping through some magazine is what told him the kid had woken up. "Over here sleepy", he spoke up, figuring Sam had been looking around for him. Sam looked over, letting out a sigh which was interrupted by a bout of coughs. "Woah there," Dean tossed the magazine aside and leaned forward, grabbing the water he had on stand-by for Sam and helping him sit up so he could take a few small sips before easing him back down, noting how he actually did feel a little less feverish.

Sam closed his eyes again. It was like Sam knew what Dean needed to hear because he gave a lazy thumbs up and whispered, "M' okay Dean", even managing a little, although an equally forced grin.

Dean couldn't help but let a little smile tug at his lips, his more genuine towards his little brother, "Yeah well, I coulda told you that dork".

Sam had already begun to drift back off into his feverish sleep while he mumbled, "I know"