"Why didn't she just call me?" Dean nearly whispered.

"Because she knew you'd want to get here yourself and that you'd go through some kind of mental crisis having to deal with this when Sam's sick too."

"Jody…is she gonna be okay?"

Her mouth flattened in that I-don't-know kind of way it usually did when it emotionally affected her like that. "The doctors say only time will tell."

"I just talked to her earlier this week. She was sick but she…she was getting better."

"That's how it is with everyone, Dean," she told him resignedly. "She developed double pneumonia and she was already so weak…"

"H-how do you know if it's double?" Dean asked, fear shooting through him.

"If you're a doctor or have an x-ray machine, I'm guessing." She hadn't missed out on that look, though. "How's Sam?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Uh…he's uh…" Dean shook his head as if to clear it. "He seems to be doing as good as he can be." He seemed unsure now.

"Dean Winchester, are you telling me the truth?"

Dean swallowed. "I'm taking care of him," Dean told her. "But he's coughing stuff up. Might be pneumonia. I dunno for sure, but I got an oxygen concentrator and he's been using it a few days now." Jody could see the worry on his face.

"Is he eating?"

"He's got me, don't he?" he said with a smirk.

"But you're still worried."

"He's tired all the time," Dean supplied. "He sleeps a lot. I mean, that's good because he needs to rest, but it's a lot of sleeping."

"Is he getting up and around?"

"I won't let him. Except to use the bathroom or shower. He's not even fighting me on it. He doesn't have the energy." Jody looked away for a moment in thought. "I'm doing everything I can to help him," Dean said. "It's just…you know. I'm not a doctor. I'm going by what I can find online."

"He's lucky to have you, Dean. You're doing the best you can."

"What if it's not good enough?"

"It's all you can do." They were both silent for a few moments. "Listen, Dean," she continued. "Getting this message from Charlie to you wasn't the only reason I came out here. She wanted me to make sure to get these vaccines to you and whoever else I come across. I'm gonna bring them to my girls, too. I've already taken mine. I'll be heading outta here tonight, then I'll head to you after my ride gets me back home."

"You shouldn't come in here. You could get sick."

"Nope," she replied flatly. "I'm immune just like you."

"How do you know?"

"Because Claire got it and none of the rest of us did. I wouldn't have come out here if I thought I could carry it back into the house."

"You never told me Claire was sick."

"She didn't get too bad, actually. Kids are tough."

"She's better now?" Dean asked.

"Alex is taking good care of her. I'm not worried."

"Sure, you are," Dean said with a slight smirk.

"Okay maybe I am, but she's gonna be fine. Just like Sam will be fine. You know that, right, Dean?" She couldn't handle the look in Dean's eyes anymore. So, when she mentioned that, he attempted to school himself.

"Yeah. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to him."

"And I'll be there with those vaccines before you know it, so leave a light on for me, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Jody. Be safe. Please."

"Always am," she said with a smile before the call ended.

Dean wiped a hand down his face. The tension had his skin crawling and his skull felt like there was a vice on it suddenly. He sat there for a long moment thinking about Charlie and Jody. About Alex and Claire. About everyone they'd lost from this pandemic. What would be left at the end of all of this? Who would still be with them?

There was a unfamiliar beeping sound that pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked down at his phone. Nothing there. He heard it again, this time aware of it enough to know that it was coming from the direction of their bedroom. He stood, shoving his phone back into his pocket and started heading in that direction, meanwhile pondering what the noise could be. Maybe it was coming from the laptop.

After a few moments, however, Dean realized that he had set the little bell alarm on the Inogen machine just in case. It only went off if it hadn't detected a breath in the last sixty seconds. His whole body suddenly felt as though he'd jumped into an icy river. He tore off toward the bedroom now. "Sam!" he yelled. There was no answer. That hit him even harder. Like a spear in the chest.

When he got into the room, he'd expected Sam to be slumped over and not breathing. Instead, Sam was asleep. The cannula had simply slipped out of place. He was fine. Sam was fine. Dean sank down into a chair by the door. His legs felt jello-y. He was out of breath more from fear than the rush to get there. He looked up at the ceiling as he breathed, subconsciously thanking whatever divine being had answered his also subconscious prayer.

"De?" Sam sounded from the bed and Dean looked back down at him. "What happened?" he asked as he fixed the cannula. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dean immediately put up a front, trying to shake off the lingering feeling. "A ghost? Pfft. As if." He stood and walked to the bed, sitting down on the side of it. "I just got a call from Jody."

"Oh yeah? How are they doing?"

"Claire was sick for a bit, but she's apparently getting over it now."

"With…"

"Same thing you got," Dean supplied. "Jody called from DC."

"Uh…why is she…?" Sam's brow was furrowed but then his face slackened with realization. "Charlie?" he asked with a note of fear in his voice.

"She's on a ventilator," Dean told him softly. Sam's hand came up to cover his mouth. "I know. I thought she was getting better, but apparently…"

"Is she gonna be okay?" Sam asked, eyes getting wet.

"The docs said only time will tell. Hey, it's Charlie. She'll be okay," Dean was trying to convince himself as much as he was his brother.

"So why is Jody there?"

"She was checking in on her. That and she's gonna bring the vaccines. She'll be here probably tomorrow."

"That…that's good," Sam said, uncertain what to feel right then. "At least we'll get to see her."

"You mean someone other than my ugly mug?" Dean said with a smirk.

"Your mug isn't ugly," Sam replied with a smirk of his own. He pushed to sit up a bit more and moved towards Dean. "Your mug is the most gorgeous mug of any mug I've ever laid eyes on," he said as he moved in to press his lips to Dean's, his hands cupping either side of his neck. He pulled away with a look of concern now on his face as he met Dean's eyes. "Are you okay?" Sam asked him.

"Heh," Dean couldn't help but laugh. "What're you talkin' about? I'm fine."

"Your heart's racing even worse than mine."

"I…it's fine, Sammy. Just had a little scare."

"You mean Charlie?"

"I mean this stupid machine," he said motioning to the culprit. "The alarm started going off. I was in the kitchen."

"The thing just fell off is all."

"Yeah I know that now. Maybe I should duct tape that thing in place."

"I had an itch on my nose," Sam said with a grin. "I was too tired to fix it after. I'll be more careful next time."

"You better. I'm not sure how much more my heart can take," he said as he placed a hand on his chest and took another breath.

"Hey," Sam said, placing his hand over Dean's and taking his other hand in his. He gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm gonna be fine, okay? You're taking such good care of me, making me healthy stuff to eat and making sure I take my medicine. I've got the smartest, hottest nurse in the city. What could go wrong?"

"You gotta stop calling me a nurse," Dean said as he shook his head, a look of amusement on his face.

"Gonna have to deal with it for a little while," he said, letting out another small laugh. Then he felt it. The knowing tickle deep in his throat, the pain in his chest. Dean watched Sam get that faraway look in his eyes suddenly, and he knew he was going to have another coughing fit.

"Hey, I got you," Dean told him, seriousness plastered back on his face and posture. He helped Sam swing his legs off the side of the bed and went to reach for the trash can, but Sam suddenly had him squeezed to his chest, his cheek against Dean's shoulder as he began coughing in earnest. This wasn't the normal routine, but Dean could adapt.

Dean held him back just as tightly, this time with his arms around his back. He wanted to move Sam to sit up straight, but Sam seemed to need to lean to the side a bit and Dean wasn't going to force him into anything. So, he simply stayed there holding onto him, eyes closing in sympathy at how badly it jarred Sam's ribs over and over. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd registered the machine beeping again.

Weak, tortured cries came in between the rougher ones. Dean knew that if Sam wasn't so damned exhausted those cries would be echoing down every hall of the bunker right now. It felt like an hour that Sam had to go through that, but it had only been probably a few minutes, and Sam yelled out the best he could.

"De'n!" His voice wet and muffled and Dean knew that meant he needed the trash can, but Dean couldn't possibly let go of him yet.

"It's okay, Sammy. Just do what you gotta do. It's okay. I'll clean it up later, okay? Just get it out." His hands rubbed Sam's back in attempt to give him some comfort. Sam's hands had been squeezing and pulling Dean's shirt since it'd started. Now he was panicking, as if he was trying to push Dean out of the way, but really, he just really didn't want to make a mess on the floor. He grabbed for the box of tissues and barely made it time to cover his mouth. Of course, it wasn't going to catch it all. They both knew that, but Sam needed to at least try.

Dean let him do what he needed to do. He stayed put, giving Sam what privacy he could manage to give, and continuing to hold onto him. When it was over, Sam didn't move away from his brother. In fact, he snuggled closer into him. Dean could feel him shaking and wondered if it was from fever or exhaustion. Whatever the reason, he held onto him, Sam's head tucked under Dean's chin, and he kept rubbing his back, gently rocking them without consciously realizing it. The alarm was more noticeable now.

Sam was, indeed, exhausted. Every one of the fits made him feel like he'd been hit by a truck. And Sam had been hit by a truck before, so he knew what it felt like. His only comfort was Dean. He couldn't imagine getting through this without him. As he laid there listening to Dean's breathing and tried to calm his own, he took comfort in the smell of him and the warmth of his arms around his back. He wasn't sure when Dean had started humming softly. Hey, Jude. The realization made him smile. If he could hug Dean tighter, he would, but at this point he was barely able to hang on as it was.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said softly. "Let's get you back into bed, huh?" He felt Sam's head nod. "Okay. You don't have to do anything. Just relax. I've got you." Sam had no choice but to comply. Dean didn't mind. It made him think of when they were younger. Sam would fall asleep in front of the TV and Dean would have to get him into bed. Probably a thousand times. And even in their early adulthood Sam had been sick a handful of times that had Dean needing to care for him more than usual. Maybe not even just because Sam needed it, but because Dean's instinct was to make everything better.

He carefully lowered Sam's head onto the pillow, readjusting the cannula so the damned machine would shut up, then smoothly had his legs back up on the mattress and covered up before Sam knew he was horizontal again. He brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes and wiped his face clean with a damp washcloth, then bent down to kiss his forehead. No fever, it seemed. Sam was asleep already. That's what he thought, anyway, until he cracked his eyes open to look up at his brother.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"No need to thank me. It's my job."

"No, it's not," Sam said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, it is," he replied and pressed a kiss to his lips before Sam could object again.

"Stay," Sam said.

"Always. Just lemme clean this up really quick."

"Sorry."

"Yeah you better be. You owe me one," he said with a smirk. Sam smiled weakly back at him. "Damnit. Blood again. I really need to get a humidifier in here." He had everything cleaned up and washed his hands before coming back to bed. He crawled in quietly, not wanting to wake Sam, but Sam had sensed him there anyway and rolled onto his side to face him. When Dean settled, Sam slotted himself into him as though the space was made for him, and maybe it was.

Dean pulled the covers over both of them and put an arm around Sam, fingers carding through his long hair. "'s not the air," Sam mumbled.

"Huh?"

"The air. 's not dry."

"Well, it still wouldn't hurt," Dean replied. Sam didn't reply. He was probably out.

In the silence, Dean let what Sam had said mull over in his mind a bit. "'s not the air…" He didn't like what that could imply…

Tbc…