Turning Points - 8

Disclaimer: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

Summary: A series of snapshots about turning points in the lives of the Winchesters

Author's Note: This is the eighth in what has become a series of snapshots of the Winchesters – A look at some of Dean's life changing experiences. This one occurs earlier than the last couple – poor Dean – Home alone with a Sick Sammy.

Please review.

Pizza-pixie who is such a great reviewer, suggested some Sammy sickness for Dean to feel guilty about – so this is my attempt at that tosay thank you for her reviews.I had to go looking for information on NHSDirect to find out about the symptoms and the treatment (then try and convert the UK treatment to that given in the US so hopefully I've got the same stuff – I don't know whether there is a child-friendly version or what the instructions on Tylenol say about children taking it – plus over the last few years here a whole new load of stuff has come out for children to take which wouldn't have been available 14 or 15 years ago when this is set – dare say Medical advice has changed on both sides of the water in the last few years). As the NHS site didn't say whether the rash itched or not, I phoned my mum who wondered at the bizarre questions I was asking.

Turning Points – Dean

Sometimes Dean wondered if life was just about acquiring guilt. After all, he seemed to go through life picking up more guilt trips than things he knew how to cook from the local store. At times they came thick and fast and in all honesty, most of them involved Sam.

The guilt had started when Mom died; he knew that more people than he could remember had told him it wasn't his fault. She hadn't died because of something he had or hadn't done. Somehow that wasn't enough for Dean though, somehow he just always felt that he should have done something or that maybe it shouldn't have been her to die.

He set out again to do his best and not let anyone down and that's when Dad entrusted Sammy to his care. He'd not long finished mastering all the different items of clothing he himself wore down to his shoelaces and buckles when he'd had to start learning fast what to do with Sam's clothes. From clothes to food to playing, Dean had gradually got them sorted. Things hadn't gone too badly along the way, although each time Sammy fell over, Dean hated having to clean up his brother's knees and hands and wished that he could just find someway of making sure that Sam didn't hurt himself because that was when he needed a mom most of all.

The first time Dean had truly felt out of his depth with a sick Sammy on his hands had been an unfortunate error all round really. Dean was 11 and well used to looking after Sammy by then, picking him up from school, watching over him while he did his homework, making sure there was some sort of food served up at each meal time.

On this particular occasion, he had been tired himself and figured maybe he'd got a bit of a cold and his body was fighting it, so when Sammy first started to complain about being tired, Dean hadn't even thought to mention it to his father and instead had given Sammy more help with his homework than usual, an early dinner and had then packed Sammy off to bed early. He'd followed not long after himself, having finished off his homework and cleared up the kitchen, finishing off by checking the doors were locked before turning the lights out and settling down thankful for the peace. John had come home a couple of hours later and was surprised that both boys were in bed and asleep, dead to the world. Feeling grateful for a night off with nothing to hunt and peace from his sons, he had sorted himself out some food and a drink to relax knowing that he had a busy few days ahead if he was to track down the werewolf, he had been researching. He checked over his research for one last time before heading to bed himself, knowing he would need an early start the following day if he were going to head off to get the werewolf and be back within a couple of days.

The following morning, John had to wake both boys, which was unusual as normally one or other of them would have woken up full of beans and raring to go. Both pulled themselves from bed wearily, complaining that they would rather just stay there. John had chivvied them along, maybe they were coming down with a bit of a cold or maybe they were just trying to see if they could get him to stay and not go after the werewolf. To be honest, it didn't really matter which, after all neither was any great shakes and they would have to get used to dealing with stuff like that or they were going to be weak links in his vision of the future as they got older. Looking at them as they slouched over their cereal, both had runny noses and watery eyes. When Sam started to sneeze, it was Dean who said, 'Dude, tissue or hand, I don't care which, but don't sneeze in my direction, you can keep your own germs, 'cos I sure don't want 'em, I feel like I've got enough of my own already.'

John had smiled at that and pushed a box of tissues over to Sammy, who'd just whined, 'I don't feel good Dean.'

'Sammy, you'll be fine, it's just a cold. Looks like Dean's got the same. You've only got today at school and then you can both rest over the weekend.'

'But Dad, I feel bad. Can I stay home? I'm tired and I hurt all over.'

'Come on Sammy, you're not such a baby, you're going to let a little cold get you down, are you?' Dean's not complaining. One day, that's all, the two of you can watch TV all day tomorrow if you like.'

'Okay,' as he agreed, he pushed the rest of his cereal away and got down from the table, heading back to the bedroom.

'So Dean, you know what to do this weekend, right? You'll be okay? I should be back on Monday – if I can, I'll be back before you guys head off to school, but don't worry if I'm not here then 'cos I'll definitely be back before you're home again.'

'Sure Dad.'

'Good. I'll go as soon as you two head off to school.'

Dean nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cereal before he too, got down from the table, leaving the rest of the bowl. He stopped at the kitchen door and turned, 'Dad?'

'Yeah, what?'

Dean knew his father was already focused on the job ahead and he'd only half got his attention. He persisted anyway, 'What should I do about Sammy's cold? He doesn't seem well, can you stay? Maybe go after the werewolf next weekend?'

John looked up for a minute at his eldest son. 'Sammy's cold? Don't worry Dean, he'll probably be right as rain by the time he finishes school. There's no need for me to stay. It's nothing you two can't handle. You're almost grown now; you can look after Sammy just fine.'

'But what if he's not?'

'Get him to eat something, drink plenty and put him to bed. If he won't go, just get him to rest in front of the TV and cover him up there.'

'Will that be enough?'

'Course it will. Listen if he gets really hot, then give him half a Tylenol and some soup and put a cool cloth on his head – he'll love the fuss, you know what he's like. There's nothing to worry about. If you feel really bad, you take one too – you can have a whole one.'

'How often for Sammy?'

'What? Dean, you're worrying too much, he's going to be fine, and you won't need to do anything. Okay, sport. Now you'd better go get your brother or the two of you will be late for school.'

'Right. Bye Dad. See you Monday.' He'd turned back to leave the kitchen and get Sammy. Casting one last look over his shoulder, he saw that his Dad had already put the conversation out of his mind and was back thinking about the hunt. He sighed and left.

Looking in the bedroom door, he saw Sammy, laid down on his bed with his eyes closed. 'Come on kiddo, we've gotta move it or we're going to be late.' Sammy slowly pushed up off the bed and picked up his school bag.

'Dean, can I stay home? My head hurts too.'

'Sorry, school it is. You've got that Spelling Quiz today; it'd be a shame to miss it now you've learnt all those words.'

'I suppose.'

At the end of the day, Dean's cold was in full flow, nose and eyes streaming and an incessant cough that was making his throat burn. He couldn't wait to get home and just collapse and he just hoped that Sammy was going to be quiet; he really didn't feel up to running around after him. He made his way round to pick Sammy up from the playground. As he approached, he saw Sammy sitting on a swing, listlessly rocking back and forth, not a sign of the usual energetic bounce. He felt slightly guilty alongside a sense of relief that it looked like Sammy's cold had got worse too and so maybe he'd get away with convincing him to just curl up and rest.

'Hey'

Sammy turned to face him 'Dean, can we go home now? I don't feel good.'

'Sure. Let's go. We can just curl up in front of the TV tonight. What do you think?'

'I think I just want to go to bed, my head hurts.'

'Okay, we'll eat and then bed.'

'I'm not so hungry.'

'What did you have at lunch?'

'I dunno, I didn't feel so good then.'

'Sammy, did you eat your lunch?'

'Just a bit. I wasn't hungry.'

'Don't worry. We'll be okay, I'll sort it.'

As they got in, Sammy had dropped listlessly onto the couch, not even bothering to reach for the remote to turn the TV on. Dean shut and locked the door behind them and headed to the kitchen.

He went to the cupboard and hunted through the tins until he found the soup he was looking for. If Sammy's throat felt anything like his own, this would be the best thing to eat. He opened the tin and started to heat the soup in a pan on the stove. When the soup was ready, he leaned round the door to call his brother. Getting no response, he walked through to fetch his brother and was surprised to find him asleep. Flicking the light on, he shook his brother gently, calling his name at the same time.

As Sammy woke, he opened his eyes, 'Aargh! The light! Turn it off!'

'What's the matter?'

'The light, it hurts my eyes,' Sam moaned as Dean flicked the switch for the main light leaving just a side light on.

'Okay, we'll just leave this light on. You stay here and I'll bring your soup in on a tray. I want you to try and eat a little bit. Deal?'

'Whatever.'

Sammy had managed only a small part of his soup before giving up but had managed to drink more of the juice that Dean had also brought through for him. When both boys had finished all they were going to eat, they headed off to bed. Dean knew Sammy was feeling really bad as he usually liked to stay up late watching TV when Dad was away but on this occasion was more than willing to head to bed.

Dean checked on Sammy one last time, before appreciatively relaxing into his own bed, leaving just a lamp on at the side of the room to make it easier to check his brother later during the night.

Later didn't happen. Dean's best intentions to check on his brother regularly went by the by as his own weariness took hold and dragged him deep into sleep. He didn't wake until the following morning when he was surprised to see sunlight shining through the bedroom curtains.

He got up, still feeling heavy and cold-ridden. He walked over to his brother's bed and looked down at where his brother lay still asleep. Seriously unlike Sam, who was never known to sleep in on a Saturday, always desperate to drag Dean off to a park or off to explore some new place he'd discovered or game he wanted to try out, Dean wondered what to do, whether he should leave him sleep or wake him up. He decided to leave him a while longer and to sort himself out first.

He showered which helped relieved some of the stuffiness he was feeling. He grabbed the juice from the fridge and took a Tylenol, following his Dad's suggestion. He put a small amount of cereal into two bowls and poured the milk on. Then with both bowls and some more juice on a tray, he took them through to the bedroom. 'Come on, Sammy. You've got to have some breakfast.'

'Dean, I feel horrible. I hurt...' and with that Sammy began to cough. When the coughing finally eased, Dean helped him drink some juice and then eased him back to lean against the pillows he had propped behind him. Putting his hand against his brother's forehead, he could feel the heat pouring out. 'Dean, I don't want anything to eat.'

'Okay, Sammy, but you've got to drink some more juice. I'm going to get some ice to chill it some more. It'll make it slide down easier.'

'Uh-huh.' Sammy's eyes drifted closed again.

It took him moments to top the juice up and get some ice and on his way back, he grabbed a washcloth soaked with cold water. 'Come on, Sam. Drink some more, please.' A half –hearted attempt to drink some juice led to a grimace from Sam.

'It hurts, Dean. When's Dad back?' Dean shook his head and then folded the cloth resting it on his brother's forehead. Sammy moved his hand to scratch behind his ear.

'Relax, Sammy. Do you want to stay here or shall we move through and watch TV?'

'I'll stay here.' His hand still worried at the itch behind his ear. 'But Dean?'

'Yeah, what? Don't scratch, you'll hurt yourself.' He moved Sammy's hand away from his ear.

'Dean, will you stay with me?' he moved his hand back and started scratching again.

'Yeah, I'll stay. Will you stop that? What's with the scratching? You got fleas or something?' Dean held Sammy's hand still, away from his head, keeping it still on the top of the covers.

'Dean, it really itches. Will Dad come home soon?'

'Lean forward, let me look.' As Sammy tried to sit up, he started to cough again. Dean held him still until the coughing eased and stopped, then he leant over for the juice and helped Sammy swallow a few mouthfuls. Putting the glass back down, he positioned Sammy so he could look at the area he'd been scratching. There he got a distinct view of a rash of reddish-brown spots. 'Shit.'

'Dean, Dad doesn't like it when you say words like that.'

'Yeah well, he's not going to know unless you tell him. Now listen, you mustn't scratch, you've got spots and you'll only make it worse, whatever it is, if you scratch them.' With that he helped his brother lay back down, propping him up on the pillows to ease the coughing bouts, then tucking his hands under the covers in the hope it would deter Sammy from scratching further.

'Dean, what is it?'

'I don't know, but you'll be okay. Maybe you just touched something you shouldn't. It'll be fine. I need you to keep drinking and to rest.' Sammy closed his eyes and just listened to his brother's voice as Dean kept on talking about something and nothing, until he drifted back to sleep.

Dean got up and took the breakfast dishes back to the kitchen and cleared them up. He made sure the ice tray was refilled and put it back in to freeze and that there was plenty of juice ready for Sammy to drink. Then he went and got another dampened cloth and took it back through to Sammy to replace the one he had left on his forehead. He figured when Sammy woke up next, he'd get the Tylenol down him and see if that helped.

As he lifted the cloth on Sammy's forehead, he was worried to see more of the same type of spots across his face and spreading down his neck now. He decided not to leave it any longer but woke Sammy up to take the Tylenol. Irritable wasn't the word, Sammy was downright pissed at being woken up and still not allowed to scratch. Having convinced him to take the medicine and to have more to drink to help it go down, he tried to get him to eat something but had given up when Sammy had another bad coughing fit after a couple of mouthfuls of toast. Instead he picked up the book Sammy had been reading a couple of days ago, finding the page where he'd finished, Dean began to read to his brother, all the time trying to keep his hands still, pinned gently but firmly under one of his own.

'Dad?' his brother's voice croaked.

'Don't worry. He'll be home again before you know it.' Dean reassured his brother. It didn't matter how often he said it, he didn't feel the reassurance himself, but just hoped it was enough for Sammy. It was worrying that Sammy kept asking for Dad because when he usually had a cold, Dean's undivided attention was enough to keep him contented. Dean felt his own body sag with the effort of sitting up and looking after Sammy, so he shifted his younger brother's body across the bed and sat himself down leaning against the headboard, staying close and soothing his brother as best as he could.

For two days, Dean barely left Sammy's side; he nodded only when he could no longer keep his own eyes open and he tried everything he knew to keep his little brother's temperature down, but apart from refreshing the damp clothes and getting him iced drinks he was at a loss as to what else he could do. It didn't help his cold any to have him not resting or eating properly but he pushed his own feelings aside and determinedly faced the challenge of caring for Sam himself.

Finally Monday morning dawned, Sam's rash had spread over more and more of his body and Dean was beside himself with worry having stayed up all night, soothing his brother with damp cloths and keeping his hands still so he didn't scratch. His brother had slept almost constantly over the weekend in the semi-darkness of their bedroom, unable to stand more than a very dim light and Dean still hadn't managed to get him to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls of anything.

The wait seemed interminable. He had hoped against hope that his Dad would really do as he had said and return before school was due to start, but there was no such luck. He finally turned up after lunch, walking in to see Dean in the kitchen fetching more juice and ice. 'And what exactly are you doing at home, young man? I've told you before, there's to be no skipping school when I'm not here. It's a bad example to set to Sammy and I won't have it.'

'I…I've stayed home to look after Sammy,' Dean's throat was so sore, the words were barely audible. 'He's really sick and I didn't know what to do, Dad.' John could hear the desperation and exhaustion in his eldest's voice.

'I'll go and see him. I'm sure you're worrying over nothing.' As his Dad left for the bedroom, Dean slumped in a chair, elbows resting on the table and head held in his hands. He didn't know what else he should have done for Sammy but he'd tried to hold it all together, he just hoped everything would be okay again

John had recognized the rash which had ravaged Sammy's body, a definite bout of measles. He looked just like his brother's boys had done the last time they'd gone to visit, getting there to find the boys were ill. Tucking Sammy back in, John rose and moved back to the kitchen, surprised to see Dean sitting at the table. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on his arms.

He'd stopped himself just before shaking Dean awake, instead moving the chair away from the table enough to pick his son's body up and carry it through to his bed. Just for a moment, he felt unbearably guilty. What kind of a man would leave a child like Dean to look after their younger brother? The memory of the morning he had left stabbed viciously at his conscience, showing clearly now the signs of both sons' illness and the worry and concern in Dean's face that he wasn't going to be able to look after his brother, the fact that both boys had asked him to stay but that he had still put the hunt ahead of his boys. He pushed the guilt down, it was a useless emotion anyway, far better to be getting on and doing something than spending time when it was too late to change anything, pondering the question. Life goes on, regardless and so did the Winchesters.

Author's Note: Please review and let me know if it worked. I've never had measles myself and my younger sister had it whilst I was away on a school trip so I have had to write this piece entirely from the information I researched so fingers crossed it seems okay.