A/N: Written for a prompt on tumblr by mypoorfaves: The "tries to get up but caretaker gently eases them back down to the matress and the sick/injured character is too weak to resist" trope is a forever fave
Jack woke with a start, heart thumping rapidly, blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline spiking. He couldn't breathe. He was back in that church, with Sam - his real dad - with Lucifer. The archangel blade sliced into his throat. His Grace. His Grace was getting eaten!
Jack wasn't himself, he wasn't Jack anymore. He wasn't okay, he wasn't-
He tried to get up, barely realizing he was in his bed, that he wasn't alone.
Sam reached out and Jack turned, jumping out of his skin at the touch. But, the hand remained, and Jack eased into it. This was Sam. This was his dad. He was safe.
"It's alright," Sam soothed. "Just lie back down. You need rest."
"No. No, I'm fine."
Jack tried to get up, and to his surprise, Sam pushed him back down. Fighting him proved aggravatingly fruitless, and tears burned in his eyes at that.
Weak.
I'm weak.
"Sleep," Sam told him. He kissed Jack on the head, and then he sat back by his bed again, a hand patting at his chest. "You're okay. Just sleep."
"Can you tell me a story?" Jack asked.
Sam gave him a sad smile, and then responded, "Of course."
So his dad told him about a wild hunt involving himself and Castiel having to imitate park rangers. Jack listened, and he nodded off.