A/N: Frailty parts 1 & 2 have now been merged into one chapter! Exact dates & details like this can be found in the notes section of this story on AO3. I'm FogsRollingIn over there too. xoxo & happy readings!

Sam jerked from sleep as something cold pressed against his mouth. He swung his hands out to wipe it off when his hands landed on... hands.

"Stop-stop-stop it's okay, Sammy," Dean's voice whispered directly overhead. Sam opened his eyes to the sight of his brother looking down on him, holding whatever-it-was against his face. Sam couldn't account for why the cold pricklings of fear rose up in him. He was disoriented. All he knew was Dean hovering, forcing something uncomfortable against his face. His heart rate picked up while his breathing stuttered. He couldn't focus. He feebly clawed at his brother's arm.

"D... Dea-!" Sam rasped, his chest rising and falling too fast.

"Relax. Relax, Sam. It's just an oxygen mask. S'just a mask. I've got you, Sammy, it's okay," Dean promised. Sam shook his head under the mask & reached up to grab Dean's shirt.

"I don'... stop it," Sam cried, his eyes watering, "please... Dean, please," he begged weakly under the plastic. For all the good it was supposed to be doing, it felt like it was suffocating him.

"Okay, okay," Dean murmured, unable to keep it on with Sam sounding like that. He pulled the mask off. "You seemed to be having trouble breathing while you were sleeping," he said as he leaned over Sam to set the mask down next to the tank. Sam breathed in fits and starts but the mask's removal was a relief.

"Than'...k'you..." Sam wheezed. Dean nodded and stayed where he was, monitoring Sam until his breathing went back to normal. When it wasn't improving as much as he liked, he moved closer and rubbed his hand along Sam's ribcage.

"C'mon, Sammy, breathe," he murmured.

"'M... try'n..." Sam gritted out. Dean felt the effort he was making; he could quit the demands.

"Okay. Don't talk," Dean advised. He ran his other hand over Sam's sweaty forehead, inadvertently using the moisture to slick Sam's hair back. Sam made a grunt that sounded a lot like 'ew' and Dean let out a breathy laugh. Sam closed his eyes, focusing. His breath began to stabilize.

"Good, deep breaths, that's it," Dean said, watching as his brother's heaves lessened. "Good job, nice work," Dean praised further. Sam was normal after a few minutes. He gulped and nodded vaguely before opening his eyes.

"What..." he coughed, "What time is it?"

Dean moved his hand off Sam's side to look at his watch.

"Eleven."

"AM or PM?"

Dean gave a small smile and leaned back against the headboard next to his brother.

"PM," he replied.

"I slept the whole day?"

"Yeah you kinda slept through a fever," Dean replied. Sam looked at his brother and narrowed his eyes.

"You don't look tired."

Dean shrugged.

"I'm kinda on your schedule."

"Mm," Sam yawned and stretched his arms, idly looking around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye Dean took stock of his little brother. His face was still pale and sweaty except for rosy circles on his cheeks left over from the fever. He had a few pimples forming around his nose, his glassy eyes were bloodshot, the edges of his lids a raw dark pink. His hair was a tangled, greasy mess. While Dean had gotten his arms and fingers earlier with warm water, Sam was still a wreck.

And either Dean was getting better at subtly checking his brother over or Sam was also still a little out of it, not having noticed Dean's evaluation.

Instead Sam had leaned against the headboard and was now absently looking up at the gray cement ceiling. He wished this wasn't a bunker. With no windows or clocks it felt like time didn't exist. It was eleven at night but it could've been one in the afternoon.

Sam ticked his head to look at his brother.

"You okay?" He asked softly, glancing over and taking in Dean's appearance. He looked decent enough, all things considered. Black smudges under his eyes, stress lines more pronounced but Sam figured that was reasonable given what they were going through. He was wearing navy sweatpants with a plain white t-shirt. They looked clean - maybe freshly laundered - and suddenly Sam found himself coveting the ensemble, his own clothes worn and wrinkled. Even his body was noticeably unwashed, Sam realized with a frown.

Eventually he landed back on his brother and his brother's contemplative expression. Sam raised his eyebrows.

"I'm okay, Sam," Dean said with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction at its veracity. "How 'bout you?"

Sam gave an apologetic smile and shook his head, eyes shimmering.

"Probably not as good as that."

"It'll get better. It's getting better."

Sam swallowed. "We don't really know that," he whispered, trying to sound objective but ending up too shaky. Dean huffed and stared at him expectantly before gearing up for the pep talk he knew he'd have to give eventually once Sam was cogent enough to hear it.

"All right," Dean turned, angling his body towards Sam, "here's the bottom line, man. There's no use in worrying about what's going to happen. It just adds more stress to the situation and it helps no one. So we're going to take this like we have been taking it which is one day, one hour at a time until you get back to good."

"But-"

"No. No buts."

"If-"

"If something bad happens, I'm right here. We tackle it like we have all the rest of your… let's call them symptoms," Dean suggested, just a hint of comedy in it. He was completely lacking his usual undertone of anger and it made Sam feel infinitely better. "Sam, we're gonna beat this, you understand me?" He paused to soften his words, "You just need to hang in there, little brother," he said, breaking into a gentle smile and managing to make Sam feel stronger than he was. Sam gave a conciliatory smile back and took a deep breath.

"Okay."

"Okay," Dean mimicked, pushing a hand over Sam's hair. Sam grimaced, feeling the way the oily strands moved in clumps. Dean chuckled and withdrew. The moment was over. Sam could collect himself a little bit. He rubbed his face and felt the patchy stubble along his cheeks and chin, dead skin and zits and the sleep in his eyes. When he touched his lips he immediately wiped the corners of his mouth, breathing a disgusted 'ah.'

"So you think you'll be staying up?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's attempts to self-groom. It was pretty hopeless without water and soap. Sam huffed gave a small shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe. I guess," Sam said wearily, smoothing his hands along the sheets. He observed his own minute hand tremors indifferently.

"Think you can hold it down if I get you something to eat?"

Sam thought a second and gave a slow nod.

"Yeah, probably," he replied and Dean made his move to get off the bed. "What're you thinking?"

Dean shrugged as he pulled his grey robe off the back of a chair to put it on.

"Eh, I don't know. I've got Cas in the kitchen."

"Oh yeah," Sam breathed, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. "I forgot Cas is still here."

"Yep," Dean shrugged. "I told him not to come in unless I called. He might still have some food going though. I'll see," he mumbled the last part as he started to leave.

"Hey... Dean?" Sam called. Dean stopped at the threshold.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Sam said meaningfully. Dean rolled his eyes but flashed a grin before leaving Sam alone.

Sam's grateful smile vanished with the sight of his brother. He pushed the covers down to pick at the ratty black t-shirt he'd been wearing for the past, what, two days? He'd slept in it most of the time but still he'd be wailing about this if he wasn't a grown man. Also the color of this shirt wasn't lost on him: it was dark so whatever food or stains were on it wouldn't be immediately visible. Sam squinted at the shirt to see if there was anything...

Oh yeah. Nothing like stale protein shake and bits of mashed potato. Gross.

Abandoning the forensic analysis of his shirt, Sam lifted the covers up to check out what pants he was wearing. They were an old pair of cheap polyester track sweats he usually never donned even when he was about to go running. He vaguely remembered the struggle to put them on alone in bed once Dean had left him privacy, the delirious swears he'd spat about hating them as he fumbled with the drawstring that cut along his waist the wrong way and make them ride up.

With trembly fingers, Sam untied the drawstring and pulled them down lower along his ass so there'd be no pressure against his stomach for when he'd eat whatever Dean brought him.

That done, he pulled the covers back up to his chest and rested on his side only to realize just how breathless he'd become. He was deplorably weak if he couldn't even handle movements like that. Sam closed his eyes as his breathing went back to normal, getting over the reality of his infirmity just as much as his physical exertion. This was awful.

"Fuck," he exhaled. He took a deep breath and began pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. It was slow going and a few frustrated grunts punctuated the process but eventually he got there. He stayed there, again panting for air like he'd just finished a five minute mile.

He didn't hear Dean over the sound of his own breath.

"Hey," Dean said casually as he walked in carrying a tray. "Whoa! Hey, are you okay?"

He set the food down quickly and rushed over to Sam's side.

"Yeah... yeah," Sam puffed, nodding. He raised a shaky hand up, a gesture to just let him handle it.

"You sure?" Dean asked and sat down. Sam nodded then gave his brother a thumbs up. He gulped loudly a couple of times.

"Yeah," he said, finally looking up to meet Dean's eyes and give him a wan smile. Dean's concern was swiftly replaced with acceptance, even maybe something like approval.

"Okay let's get you... situated," Dean said, moving up and grabbing the pillows behind Sam to stack them. Finished, he backed away and Sam reclined against them with a sigh of appreciation.

"Thanks. What'd you get?" Sam asked, eyeing the tray. Dean smiled and showed him.

"Mac 'n cheese," Dean announced.

Sam laughed, looking into the bowl. "Let me guess. With hot dogs and ketchup, mmm," Sam feigned mockery.

"Shut up. We both know you like it."

Sam laughed and nodded. "Damn, takes me back," Sam acknowledged, tone laced with honest admiration.

Satisfaction flickered through Dean when it occurred to him Sam was quicker to feel both nostalgic about and hungry for Dean's mac and cheese than their dad's kitchen sink stew.

Dean took a fork and poked around the crumbled bread top layer so it'd mix with the creamy pasta below. He stopped and looked at Sam.

"Are you okay to eat this?" He asked openly.

"Yeah definitely," Sam blew out like Dean was crazy and reached for the bowl. Clearly his appetite had returned.

"No, I mean like..." Dean trailed off and wave his hand holding the fork.

"Oh... yeah," Sam said, putting his hands out for Dean to inspect. He still had tremors but nothing that would interfere.

"Cool," Dean replied happily, quickly and easily sticking the fork in the bowl and handing it over to Sam. "Okay you all good?" Dean asked, getting up and turning around. He framed Sam with his hands as he backed up to leave again.

Sam stopped and looked up with wide eyes, his mouth full.

"Yeah." Sam swallowed his food. "Where you going?"

"Grabbing my own dinner," Dean said casually.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Dean said simply, looking around and finding a couple dirty plates to bring back to the kitchen.

Sam watched his brother with growing disappointment. He'd wanted Dean's company for dinner.

It was foolish to think Dean didn't have things to work out with Cas though now that he thought about it though. Plus it'd been days of nothing but spending time with him, fielding emergencies with him, taking care of him. Now that Sam seemed to be better, his general frailty notwithstanding, it made a lot of sense Dean would want some time apart. Actually, he was probably jumping at this opportunity to take a breather... especially with Cas, whom Sam knew could be there for Dean in a way he sometimes couldn't.

Sam deflated a little at the thought.

Regardless, he'd let himself believe Dean would want to mark the small victory that Sam was feeling better. That perhaps they could guardedly celebrate Sam eating on his own or having a coherent conversation together.

Dean gave Sam a double-take just before he left and stopped mid-step. His brows furrowed, noticing Sam's downtrodden expression.

"What?"

"Um," Sam coughed and rubbed his eyes. If he was going to eat separately from Dean, he needed something to keep his mind off things. Being sick and alone and eating in silence would be depressing. "Could you leave the remote for me?" Sam asked, checking the blankets on either side of him. "I don't know where it is."

"Me neither," Dean shrugged after a cursory glance around the room. "I can find it later." He added before walking into the hall.

"Wait! Dean?" Sam called helplessly.

Dean stopped and backtracked so he could see his brother from the hallway.

"What?" Dean asked, a tiny note of irritation in it.

The tiny note was enough; Sam was chastened by it, now embarrassed. After all he'd done for him and Dean just wanted to go eat and talk to Cas, Sam didn't feel like he had the right to delay him a second more.

"No, sorry. Nothing, nevermind."

Dean gave an exaggerated nod and an exasperated 'okay' before he turned back down the hallway. His footsteps echoed away and Sam sighed, looking down at his plate of mac and cheese. He loved it but it was going to be a little less delicious without Dean. Ignoring his hand tremors, Sam took a bite and chewed miserably.

It was actually lousy that Dean had been so kind and open about staying for him if he needed to be fed but then ditched him when he said he was fine. Apparently being sick was the only thing that'd keep Dean with him, otherwise his brother didn't want to be around him.

Sam wasn't sure if it hurt more or less that it was Cas Dean was choosing over him either: would Dean have gone to go eat out in the library alone? Probably not; Dean liked eating with people. Dean usually ate with Sam and talked to him at the same time which was always revolting but right now Sam would have taken it.

So why didn't Dean invite Cas into the room so they could eat here?

Dean and Cas had to sort things out together, Sam reasoned. Dean told him about what had happened in the crypt. That kind of thing takes a lot of time and words to get past.

...but Sam had been sleeping all day. If Dean had needed to talk to Cas about these things he surely would have done it while Sam slept.

Maybe Cas didn't want to see Sam either.

Tucked away in this quiet room while Cas and Dean could speak freely without him, Sam felt like a kept secret. Would they talk about him or ignore that he even existed while he just sat there in bed, eating alone, fully aware and able to engage for the first time in days?

This felt like a concerted effort to spare Dean the trouble of being around him for at least an hour. Sam understood; he could fully grasp why Dean would need a break. And if Sam needed him he could literally just pray to Cas and they'd be there in an instant.

Sam felt rotten without anyone, devalued to know he was only a priority to Dean when he was sick. And if he wasn't valued by Dean, there was no one else in his life. He had no one else that cared about him nearly as much as Dean. His brother was the bar and if it was just because he was sick that he was acting this way then it obviously wasn't a very high one.

Sam wiped his eyes and sniffed over his mac and cheese before taking another bite. He was doing a good job, eating as fast as his body would allow. The sooner he could finish the sooner he could just fall back asleep again. Or maybe Dean would come check on him so he could turn on the TV after all. Anything to get him out of these thoughts. He needed to get a grip.

His hand jerked a little too heavily and a piece of macaroni fell onto his shirt. One more food stain on this ratty, stale-sweat-soaked shirt. Sam struggled to stop tearing up at every little damned thing as he picked it up and ate it anyway. He knew this was just part of being sick and weak. Sam sniffed and his nose wrinkled at the scent. He looked around wondering where it came from before he pulled his hair closer to his nose.

He let out a pitchy whimper when he realized he was the source of the stench and threw the fork into the bowl, pushing it away to cover his face with his hands. He sat there for a minute trying to pull himself together. He'd get through this but every time he'd reassure himself in his mind it was Dean's voice. Dean voice even when the real Dean wasn't here and didn't want to be here either. Sam rubbed his eyes free of moisture. He felt trapped by his own misgivings that Dean cared-

A bang against the door startled him. He looked up just as Dean swore upon entering, having tripped while carrying a plate of food inside. He glanced up for a second before moving to his side of the bed.

"Hey bud," he said, setting the plate down on the mattress. Sam blinked in surprise and sniffed, waves of giddy hope crashing over him.

"Hey."

Dean didn't look at Sam and instead started searching the room, wandering around the bed scrutinizing the floors for the remote.

"Sorry for taking so long. Cas had to talk to me about something," he said absently. He crouched down by Sam's side.

Sam wanted to respond and say it was okay he'd taken so long. He couldn't though. He needed to calm down from the embarrassingly desperate relief coursing through him with his brother's return.

Sam huffed a wet laugh when Dean gave a triumphant 'ah ha!' when he found the remote hidden in the bed sheets that had pooled on the floor. Dean swung around and flicked the television on. He glanced at Sam and gave a double-take.

"Hey - you okay?" Dean checked, concerned. He noticed Sam's food abandoned on the bed. "What's wrong with your food? Why's it pushed away?" He asked, settling down with his own plate.

Sam swallowed and shook his head, quickly reaching forward and snatching the bowl back to resume eating.

"S'it too cold?" Dean queried again, watching Sam more closely now.

"No, no it's really good," Sam promised and took a bite to prove it. Dean eyed his little brother, the same confusion he'd felt before coming back as he studied him. Something seemed off, like he was battling tears. "What," Sam started, then paused to chew more before he continued. "What'd Cas have to say?"

Dean was hesitant to answer without addressing Sam's weirdness. He wasn't meeting Dean's gaze, instead zeroing in on his food like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Sam used his shirt to wipe his nose and refused to meet Dean's gaze. If he looked, Dean would see he'd been on the brink of tears and that was the last thing he wanted his brother to know.

Dean sighed and relented with an answer.

"Cas thinks Crowley's got Kevin," Dean said solemnly. Sam flinched, red-rimmed eyes darting to Dean's.

"Does he know where they are?" Sam asked, his voice cracking by accident. Dean pursed his lips, finally getting a good look at his little brother. His brother's eyes were blotchy and moist, left over from something that'd happened while he'd been gone.

"Dean?" Sam prompted, his voice steadier this time. Dean weighed whether or not to interrogate Sam instead of answering his question. Sam was better at answering questions about his welfare when Dean didn't do that though so he continued the update.

"He thinks he does, yeah. He's going there now. Left a few minutes ago to rescue him."

"What's his plan?" Sam prompted quickly, worried.

"It's solid," Dean replied confidently. "I don't know all the details but Cas seemed certain he could break in and get out under the radar."

"-but what if he can't?"

Dean sighed and gave Sam a tired look.

"Then I'm sure we'll hear about it, Sam."

"But Dean-"

"Sam," Dean countered, silencing his little brother by tone and expression. "Eat your food."

Sam stared at Dean for a second, wondering if he should press the issue further or not. This was a moment of trust for Sam to have in Dean: if things were really that dangerous, Dean wouldn't have let Cas go alone.

Or... would he have? Sam was pretty sick... Would Dean have gone with Cas if it wasn't for him?

"Use your napkin. You've got food around your mouth," Dean added comically, cutting through Sam's thoughts with one of his most classic, infuriating strategies: embarrassing him.

Sam took the bait, successfully distracted by the need to avoid the disgrace of any signs he could be a messy eater. How were they related?

"My hands are shaky," Sam offered as an excuse, rubbing the last of the sauce off his stubbly chin.

"Uh huh," Dean replied with a wry smile as he dug into the sandwich he'd brought for himself.

"Shut up."

"You shut up. Okay, what do you want to watch?" Dean asked, raising the remote control up.

"I don't care," Sam replied honestly. Dean was with him and all his stress had been for naught. They could watch anything as far as Sam was concerned.

"Okay," Dean breathed, flicking through channels and landing on The Great Escape.

They continued eating to the sound of the film in comfortable silence. Sam couldn't finish all of his but it was still the best portion he'd managed to eat since this whole thing started. Dean approved too and ate what was left of Sam's dish. He got the plates and serving tray cleared away and moved back to settle in again. When he realized Sam was listing against him he wrapped an arm around him.

The gesture of affection was neutralized when Dean got Sam's filthy hair and body so close to his nose. Oh, that was pungent. Sammy was legitimately turning into Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown.

The older brother couldn't help but smirk at the thought, thinking of Sammy when he'd been that young and so attached to Blankie. No matter how often Dean laundered it, that thing had been so revolting it would've given Sam's current shirt a run for its money.

Dean slowly counted to ten with Sam snugged up against him before bringing it up that Sam would have to bathe soon. It'd been a really long time since Sam was sick but Dean could still recall the kid turned emotionally fragile when he fell ill. Clingy too. Dean understood abandonment issues better than anyone but Sammy's used to come out with the subtlety of a fog horn when he was sick.

And with the way Sam was acting when he'd come back to the room earlier, Dean suspected something along those lines had already happened. He'd only been gone for ten minutes to get his dinner and talk to Cas but that was probably enough. Now that Sam seemed fine though, leaning against him and watching the movie, his breathing steady and free of any dire symptoms, Sam had clearly worked past it. Dean had bigger fish to fry, like how Sammy really needed a bath. So normally meticulous with personal hygiene, Sam must have noticed this by now too.

"Hey, um, Sam?" Dean squeezed him, setting his little brother up to know that what he was going to say wasn't meant to be a request to get away from him. Yeah he was repellent but if Dean showed Sam affection just because the kid smelled good, that'd be weirder.

"Yeah?"

"You need a bath, dude," Dean said, blunt but not harsh. Sam tensed against him, sniffed and wiped his nose.

"Sorry," Sam replied, sounding pitiful.

"No, I mean. Do you want to take a bath?"

"Oh," Sam said, unsure about how that'd work but unable to say no just yet, "um..." Sam trailed off, admittedly desperate to say yes.

"I could get things set up for you, help you to the bathroom..." Dean suggested, knowing Sam was still too weak to wash very well. Dean didn't want to disclose very much; he just needed Sam to say he'd make it to the bathroom with him. Once there, it'd be easier to bully him into accepting his help. Sam was a strange mix of fierce independence and crippling mortification when it came down to stuff like this. It was absurd considering Dean had been taking care of him since they were kids.

"Think you're up for it?"

"Yeah," Sam replied immediately. He could do that. Even if he was too debilitated to wash up properly it'd still feel so damn good to soak in hot water. "When?"

Sam felt Dean shrug behind him.

"How 'bout now?"

Sam swiveled a little to look towards Dean.

"Really? But isn't it like midnight?"

"So what? We've both been sleeping on and off all day. Unless you're tired," Dean added as an afterthought, genuinely willing to skip this plan if Sam needed more sleep.

"No, no, I'm not tired," Sam replied, perking up. He was really looking forward to this now. "Really? Like right now?"

"Yeah I'll get the water going," Dean said lightly, giving Sam a small side-hug before pulling his arm away.

"Okay... Okay, yeah," Sam said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. Dean glanced at Sam before leaving the room, grinning back at the kid's hazy bright eyes and dimples.

Dean entered the bathroom to get things ready and heaved a sigh. This endeavor was going to be tricky. He hoped Sam wouldn't be so spent by the trip from the bedroom to here that he'd be incapable of bantering. Their trademark repartee would be their only saving grace for this.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time!