Sam's sense of sound came back to him first, the steady pace of Dean's heart and the soft wisps of his breath just over head. Sam's were shallow and slow, his mind scattered but he knew he was with his brother. He knew he was safe. Dean moved under him and Sam realized he was lying on him in an embrace, that distinct feeling of skin pressed to skin. It was odd but Sam was so murky that all he could make of it was how fantastically warm Dean was.

Sam pressed the pads of his fingertips into Dean's arm. He didn't know if it was enough pressure for Dean to notice but he wasn't reacting. He tried his other hand which was curled into a fist against Dean's shoulder. He used all his energy to open his hand but only managed to twitch his fingers. His knuckles pushed Dean's collarbone.

Dean gasped and jerked at that. Sam heard his brother's heartbeat rocket.

"De-" Sam breathed.

"Sam?!"

Suddenly Sam was lifted and jarred, jostled around and turned over onto his back. Sam squirmed under the force of movement. He tried to open his eyes and got streaks of pain in return, the thin, raw skin unable to break open the sleep sealing his lids closed.

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean's voice was wet and frantic. Dean's arm was pressed under him, suspending him off the bed, hand bracing Sam's head. Sam winced, tried to reach up and rub his eyes but he didn't have the strength.

"C'mon Sammy, come back to me, c'mon," Dean begged, brushing hair from his face.

"With you," Sam croaked, eyebrows raised to compensate for his eyes.

Dean lowered him gently back down against his pillow. "Oh my god," Dean rasped, the panicked relief in his brother's tone confusing Sam. He didn't have much time to contemplate it though. Just as Dean set him on the bed he launched off it, leaving the mattress bobbing. He heard his brother rustling around beyond and grew more and more frustrated he couldn't open his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam called, heartened to notice his voice was stronger. Dean instantly returned, Sam blind but sensing it when he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I just wanna see how you're doing," Dean whispered. Sam made a face but allowed Dean to carefully tilt his head and insert the plastic tip of the thermometer.

"Ugh," Sam whined, hating that damn thing. He twisted away from it in discomfort.

"Relax, relax, Sammy," Dean said softly. Sam stopped with a huff and nodded. The thermometer beeped and Dean pulled it out.

Sam wanted to know the results to get a sense of control or at least awareness of his condition. Had he been running a fever again?

He knew he didn't have the vocal stamina to ask outright but if he could just get a glimpse of his brother's expression while he was looking at the temperature read-out. Sam tried again to open his eyes and failed. It was like they were glued together, every time he'd try to lift a lid by the smallest measure it'd pull painfully at sensitive, sore skin.

Sam admitted defeat, figuring he might have to wait until he had the dexterity to use his fingers to rub his eyes clear.

"Your temp's up. We gotta keep it that way," Dean said. Any other person in the world would have thought his tone had sounded decisive and mighty. Sam perceived it differently. Dean's voice came off strong but it was hollow, brittle, which most likely reflected exactly how his big brother was feeling at the moment.

Dean picked him up under the arms and pulled. Sam grunted, trying to help but listing. He was a dizzy, disoriented rag doll as Dean tried to get him balanced to sit up away from the wall's support.

"De," Sam breathed heavily as he swayed precariously where he sat. Dean caught him and stabilized him as he pulled soft heavy fabric over Sam's head. As soon as it got past his neck Dean let Sam slump forward against him. Dean pulled the rest of the shirt down Sam's body. Sam let his head roll and settle onto his brother's shoulder.

Dean finished dressing him, pulling one limp arm through the sleeve and then the other. Sam shivered and Dean paused before pushing Sam up closer against his chest and hugging him.

"Dean, what's going on," Sam slurred against his brother's bare shoulder, awareness filtering in more and more how this kind of affection was unusual for them.

Dean kept holding Sam in their hug as he leaned forward. Sam fell back in turn but Dean had him secure.

"Nothing, Sammy. You're okay," Dean said, grabbing something and brought them back up. Sam replayed the way Dean was speaking to him. Something was off. Something was really off…
His thoughts were derailed as a heavy sweatshirt got pulled over his head. Sam startled with surprise at first, struggling weakly against the heavy fabrics' confines, feeling like he wasn't getting enough air as Dean pulled and the soft fleece interior dragged down Sam's face. Finally his brother got his face to the mouth of the hood. Sam gasped and clutched onto Dean, shaky and worried.

"De," Sam asked, getting scared. Of what, he wasn't sure. It was just that Dean normally talked to him more, reassured him. He'd let him know what he was doing and why, what was happening. Maybe he didn't yet know Sam couldn't remember anything but Dean must know by now that Sam was disoriented as hell. So why wasn't Dean helping him?

Sam figured he could wait his brother out but Dean remained silent. He pulled Sam close after the sweatshirt and let him take a breather though, rubbing Sam's back and rocking them side to side. Sam melted into it, losing all tension and feeling increasingly better under his brother's demonstrative affection right now. He could sense the terror and desperation under it though, could feel how Dean was coming down from it. It'd have to be addressed: something terrible had happened and Sam couldn't remember it.

Eventually Dean braced Sam and lowered him gently to the pillow. Sam's arms reached up aimlessly as Dean detached, searching for him in the dark. He felt heavy blankets land on him, pushing his arms down against his stomach. A second later he felt Dean's hands shoving the blankets around Sam's frame, cocooning him in, snug, with barely any space to move at all.

"Dean," Sam breathed, his voice much stronger now if not still raw and scratchy. He squirmed under the blankets that were too quickly immobilizing him.

"I'm right here, Sam. I'm getting you warm, that's all. It's okay - you're okay," Dean said softly and finished up tucking him in. Dean moved up closer to his head and pulled Sam's hood down further over his face.

Intensely curious to see his brother's expressions, Sam tried to pry sensitive eyes open again. They started watering as painful white light filled his vision at first then cloudy forms appeared. Despite the stinging brightness, the amorphous shapes began to sharpen.

"Dean...what..." Sam trailed off, searching for the blurry outline of his brother. Just as he landed on it Dean turned towards him and Sam squinted to see him. Dean was leaning over Sam's head, focused on hooking a bag of saline up to the bed post. Sam squinted and blinked, still unable to see the fine features.

"I need your arm," Dean whispered gently, carefully pulling Sam's closest arm out from under the covers.

"Uh, 'kay," Sam offered innocently, bewildered.

Dean got to work on the IV, poking and prodding until he could get a viable vein. Sam couldn't see much but he knew Dean's hands were quavering.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean sniffed. "What do you remember?" He asked darkly. Sam shook his head. He let his eyes wander as he tried to recall, his sight improving as he swept the bedroom.

"Can you eat?" Dean asked without looking up.

"I think so. I'm thirsty though," Sam replied just as he felt the needle go in. Sam let out a light breath of surprise but it didn't really hurt. Despite Dean's unsteady hands it had gone in smooth. He taped Sam up and gingerly, with all the care in the world, set Sam's arm back down on the bed.

Finally Dean looked up at Sam and Sam tried very hard not to react. Dean looked absolutely dreadful. His skin was a sickly pale with a sallow tinge to it. His eyes were rimmed red and glassy. Black smudges circled his sockets making them appear sunken, almost skeletal.

"Okay I'll get you something on both fronts. I'm hooking you up here as a precaution," Dean gestured to the IV, "we'll be able to take it off soon if you can get something in you."

Sam swallowed his anxiety and nodded, rendered mute by his brother's appearance.

"Okay cool, just hold on a sec," Dean said, getting up and rummaging around the room setting things straight.

Sam watched, appalled. Out of all the things wrong with Dean, Sam was most concerned by the dull, stoic expressions that remained on his brother's face and tone of voice. Dean usually provided active, rapid, adrenaline-based care when Sam was suffering. Instead, for the first time in Sam's life, Dean was coming off as too careful and slow. He wasn't doing anything wrong per se but it was unmistakably off-kilter. It wasn't Dean.

As if to prove him right, when Dean was done fussing with the room he turned back to Sam with a deep sigh, came forward and slowly pressed a palm to Sam's cheek then forehead, gauging his temperature by hand with such a gentle touch it felt almost sweet. Dean didn't meet Sam's eyes but he wasn't hiding from them either. Sam was shocked to see how open and raw Dean was being here.

Sam understood Dean had been affectionate since the start of the trials but this was different. Dean was holding nothing back. He was uninterested in finding funny, witty excuses to justify these gestures of love, ambivalent to any defense mechanisms he may have had or facades he'd always maintained. Dean seemed to have lost whatever carefree, dynamic sense of humor he normally depended on to get through things. Sam knew he depended on it too.

Dean's hand shook just then and their eyes finally met. It was just a flicker, a ragged shard of a glimpse. Dean's gaze shone this pure, childlike vulnerability and frightened love for Sam.

Sam swallowed and struggled to get his hand out from under the blankets and cover Dean's.

It was like the spell had broken when he did that though. Dean got up with a soft huff.

"I'll be right back. I'm just going to the kitchen, okay?" He checked quietly. Sam's eyes, wide and dilated, nodded.

"Yeah," Sam said, deeply unsettled and admittedly somewhat scared too now. "Okay.

Writer's Note: So, lol, this chapter is named in honor of MCR breaking up. My inner teenager is sad.

Thank you so so much for your reviews. You guys made me laugh out loud with some of them from the last chapter. I can't kill Sam! The story would be over if I killed Sam. This story lives and breathes Sam's suffering, hahaha...

Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex