Time for an original chapter, conjured up in the workshop of my own imagination. This explores sibling bonds as Chris is struck down with a violent case of the flu. Expect some fluff and fuzz.

Set just one day after the events of the episode "Nightmare."

P.S My introduction to the characters Milo and Anna-Louise Singer can be found in my pre-teen Chris stories, Memories of a Broken Kid. It gives an insight to who they are.

The TV droned as I sprawled on the couch, a miserable, tired expression painted on my face. This headache was a bitch. My teeth chattered as I hugged the cushion close to my chest. Beads of sweat gathered on my brow and I could feel a small trickle slid down my left temple. Fatigue had slowed me down for the past day or so and I prayed that I wasn't giving any hint that I was falling ill. I've been sick before but this was somehow different, it was unlike any cold I've ever had in the past. I wiped my running nose elegantly with the back of my hand, sniffing noisily. A harsh dry cough gave me away instantly and Mother Hen, aka Sam, was ready to interrogate.

"Chris?" he queried with a raised eyebrow, closing his laptop, "You feeling okay?"

"Terrific" I replied hoarsely.

I sounded like Batman, and I didn't recall gargling nails at any point. I winced as my aching muscles twinged as I slowly sat up, continuing to shiver didn't help either.

"I need water" I croaked, in a childlike manner, shuffling barefoot towards the kitchenette sink.

Sam in the meantime, kept a vigilant eye upon me as I held myself up right by gripping the counter. The room started to spin. Oh God! I tried to manoeuvre myself back to the couch, I stumbled slightly. My knees and ankles buckled and I collapsed to the floor. Mother Hen almost overturned the table as he leapt up from his chair in panic.

"Chris!" he yelped falling to his knees beside me, "Chris!"

"Quit yelling'!" I groaned trying to sit up only for the painful muscle spasms to return, "I ain't deaf ya know."

Mother Hen carried me back to the couch ignoring my objections and laid me down gently, placing a hand on my forehead.

"Your burning up kiddo" he said in a worried tone.

"Oh really?," I replied sarcastically slapping his hand away. "I hadn't noticed."

My hearing picked up the creak of the bathroom door opening, I peeked over the couch. Uh oh. Here we go. For standing in the doorway, fresh from the shower and clad in a towel was the mother of all mothers. Mother Goose, aka Dean. I flopped my head back and sighed.

"What's wrong? What happened?" clucked Mother Goose scuttling over.

"She fainted" stated Mother Hen.

"I did not!" I protested. "He's exaggerating."

"What!" gabbled Mother Goose, he then carefully got down on his haunches, thankfully I was spared from my eyes being burned out.

For now, hoping nothing bad would happen.

That would make matters worse, I was suffering from a bitch of a cold and the last thing I would want to see is my brother's manhood. God could at least spare me that. The towel stayed. Phew!

My vision was swimming again and I had to blinked several times. Damn it was hot in this crappy little room, my trembling hands and chattering teeth said otherwise. Mother Goose compressed a calloused hand on my forehead, shaking his head as he did so.

"Dammit Chrissie!" he hissed, "Why didn't you tell us you were sick?"

I moaned with a sneer "Put some clothes on. It's embarrassing."

I barked out a chesty cough, the sweat continued to collect on my brow, the jackhammer burrowing deeper and deeper into my skull. My toes curled and I cowered into a tight ball on the couch, eyes focusing groggily on my brothers, who exchanged anxious glances at me and each other. A thermometer came into view. I clamped my mouth shut and turned my head way stubbornly.

"Christina," warned Dean sternly. "Let me take your temperature. Don't be a baby."

I turned my nose on it and stuck my chin in the air. Why were they makin' such a damn fuss? It was only a chest cold and it ain't the first. I knew what was coming next.

"You asked for it" cautioned Dean as he suddenly jabbed me in the side.

I released a yelp of surprise and pain, dropping my jaw slightly allowing Sam to shove the thermometer into my mouth. It's a tactic they always use whenever I refuse to cooperate. With a thermometer jutting out of my mouth, like Popeye's pipe, I scowled furiously at them. My revenge would come and boy would they know it.

"Leave it!" threatened Dean as I attempted to take it out.

The mercury rose within the glass and after a minute of me laying there on the couch like an idiot, Dean plucked it from my mouth.

"Satisfied," I remarked as he and Sam inspected the reading with apprehensive expressions. "I'm tellin' ya I'm alright. I ain't sick."

It was just a headache and heck the cough would go away eventually. Dean held the thermometer in front of me and raised his eyebrows.

"I hate to break it to you sweetheart," he said. "But at 102 degrees Fahrenheit, I'd say your sick."

I rolled my eyes "Well ain't this just peachy."

With a huff I closed my eyes. Sleep was on my mind, and hopefully I could grab myself a couple of hours. As I began to drift I was aware of being transferred over to a bed, hands smoothing down my hair and tucking me underneath the thin bed sheets.

I was alone in the dark. Apple trees surround me, my bare feet swimming in foliage, an icy breeze gushes past me making me shiver. I hug myself as I nervously pick my way through the orchard, that somehow seems familiar. Birds flutter past as I creep further and further. A voice calls out to me. I pause.

"Chris!" it shouts.

Sam? I start to run, my feet kicking up leaves, the padded flesh sensitive as the cool vegetation hit against my skin.

"Sam!," I call out as I continue to sprint. "Where are you?"

"Over here" he yells back in reply.

I can see him. He leaning against an ancient looking apple tree. Shit. No! We burned that tree! A dark shadowy figure suddenly looms behind my brother.

"Sam look out!" I cry dashing over to him as something glints in the figure's hand.

It's the Pagan scarecrow! It's sickle poised above Sam's head, ready to strike. Sam snaps his head around just as the sickle sinks deep into his skull. Blood spurts everywhere and Sam topples to the ground in a giant heap. I scream.

"NO!" I cried, shooting up like a rocket.

I gasped and panted, heart racing like a freight train. Stains of sweat soaked my gray oversized t-shirt. Even my dreams suck!

Sam was at my side in a flash. His eyes full of concern as he held my face in his hands.

"Chrissie? What happened sweetie?"

My bottom lip trembled. The water works were starting up again, as custom to the aftermaths of most of my nightmares. I hate being such a baby. Tears pooled in my eyes and began to spill down my cheeks.

"I'm s-s-orry c-c-couldn't s-s-s-ave you," I wept childishly as Sam pulled me into a tight embrace. "I-I-I can't d-d-d-do anything r-r-r-ight."

"It was only a dream baby," hushed Sam rocking me back and forth as if I had aged into a four year old . "Everything is alright. You're safe and I'm safe."

"For how l-l-ong," I sobbed. "Trouble a-a-lways finds u-us. Finds m-me. Why?"

Geez when I look back, I just think one thing. What a pathetic mess I was. It was just a stupid dream but since I was suffering flu symptoms and a high fever, it was inflated into something bigger. I dunno why but that seemed to be the case. It was far to girly for my liking but for the life of me I couldn't build a strong enough dam to keep the tears back. I'm an expert in holding back emotions but there is always a fault in the construction and when the levee burst, I become a wailing wuss. Two reasons why I hate crying: one it makes me feel and look foolish, and two I hate the pained expression on my brothers faces whenever they see me in a state of despair like this. If they can be strong for me, I should be strong for them. I hate the fact that I have the ability to break my brothers hearts.

Sam rested his chin on my head "I dunno Chrissie. I just dunno."

I blubbered like a brook for several minutes before I began to calm myself down. My nose had blocked and my throat was raw.

"Where's Dean?" I sniffed. Or at least tried to.

"He went to the pharmacy to get some Dayquil and Niquil"

I wriggled out of Sam's embrace and wandered over to the window, wiping the remaining tears from my face. I gazed out mournfully, like a gosling waiting for Mother Goose to return. To be frank, I felt worse than before, the headache was gone for now but I knew it would be back. The motel room suddenly became very chilly and I stood by the window shivering like an electric toothbrush. Stubborn as I am, I refused to budge. I had to be sure Dean was coming back. Once again, I mirrored my child persona humming the theme tune to Spongebob Squarepants. Fifteen minutes later the Impala rolled back into the parking lot. If I was a puppy I could tell my tail would be wagging. As I waved madly at Dean I could feel a icy shower rain over me, I flicked my damp bangs out of my eyes as my elder brother climbed out of his precious car. Suddenly another dizzy spell washed over me and I could sense my knees giving way once Dean entered. I gasped and crumpled to the floor only to crack my head on the corner of the bed as I did my imitation of a falling tree. It was lights out. Again.

Voice were echoing in my head. Now there's something I can relate to. I could sense pain and I manoeuvred my hand and grazed it over the sensitive area. I withdrew sharply. Ouch. How hard did I smack the floor?

"Rough landing" I mumbled.

Mother Hen and Mother Goose's feathers had been ruffled and were fluttering their wings in my face. Blinking myself out of the darkness I was greeted with the anxious expressions of my brothers and the sensation of small stinging slaps on my cheeks. I grimaced. This was gonna be fun. I could feel the texture of the doughy bed underneath me

"Next time you go timber," warned Mother Goose. "Give us a heads up."

"Whateber" I grunted sliding underneath the bed sheets once again. My blocked nose was making me sound weird. "I'm dust gonna try to sleeb some of it off. Dat normbally works."

I swear I could've fried the bed sheets as my skin stroked against them as I snuggled up in a foetal position. I closed my eyes. After a minute or so, sighing heavily, I cracked open my right eye.

"I'd appreciate it you don't watch me sleeb. It gibs me da hebbie jeebies."

Let's hope I wouldn't encounter any more disruptions to my beauty sleep. Ha. Beauty Sleep. I feel and look like a zombie most days and I laugh whenever the guys use the terms pretty and beautiful in describing me. If they think a 5''1 runt like me with pale skin, freckles, matchstick limbs and crazy waves is beautiful then they are just crossing wires with somebody else. Even Bobby Singer's nephew Milo has said I'm pretty on occasions and he blushes ever time I go near him. He's cute but I ain't. I thought of Milo as I drifted off to sleep. As a kid he was podgy and had sandy hair to match his twin sister Anna-Louise. He shares the same corn blue eyes. Oh those eyes. I could stare at them forever. Anna-Louise mocks us whenever we talk about things like Pokemon and horror movies. Last time I saw him his voice was in the midst of cracking and he had shed the puppy fat and his hair was darkening. I wouldn't say I have a crush on him because let's face it I wouldn't want him to get mauled by my Rottweilers, aka Sam and Dean. Milo isn't the most courageous person I've met and heck even the sequence in Michael Jackson's Thriller video, when he transforms into a werewolf, scares him. I smirk slightly as sleep finally engulfs me completely.

Later

Ugh! My gut was contracting and turning somersaults. It gurgled and rumbled nosily. Oh boy. I was waiting for the sickness part to arise. The room was in total darkness and I climbed out of bed attentively, trying to avoid arousing Mother Hen. I crept past a snoring Mother Goose and stumbled blindly into the bathroom. I flicked the light switch and after my eyes adjusted to the light I hung my head over the toilet bowl. I waited. Then the torrent of vomit splashed into the toilet. How nice. Gripping tightly to the rim of the toilet I continued to puke up my guts. The bathroom door creaked open and my bleary eyed brothers entered, woken by my gagging and retching. Was I really that loud?

"I think I barfed up my liver" I groaned with a weak smile.

I retched and threw up again with an almighty heave of my stomach. The guys waited patiently at my side, holding back my hair and rubbing soothing circles on my back. This purge had drawn all color from my face, leaving me white as a sheet of paper.

"You gonna hurl again?" asked Dean.

"Probably" I nodded.

Two Days Later

"Will you guys knock it off!," I growled. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm okay."

"We just have to be sure," replied Sam with the thermometer in his hands. "No harm in checking."

Nevertheless the thermometer was rammed into my mouth. My fever had subdued within the past twenty four hours, the headaches returned now and again and I wasn't complaining from muscle aches. Thank God!

I smirked triumphantly at him "See! I told you."

The reading proved normal. Maybe this will give me the peace I needed. Three days of being cooped up inside had made me stir crazy. By this time I was grouchy as hell.

"Now can I go outside," I begged donning my puppy dog eyes in the process. "Pleasssseee."

"Alright fine," sighed Sam rolling his eyes. He added. "I'm coming with you though."

"What! Aw come on!"

"You have the flu Chris"

"Had the flu. Had. Past tense."

Fresh air zoomed up my cleared nostrils on stepping outside. A wide grin spread across my face. I could soar I was that relieved to get outside. It faded on hearing the squawk of the Goose.

The Goose threw his arms out in outrage "Who said you can go outside?"

I confronted the Goose with hands on my hips "Me. I let myself outside."

"Your sick dammit! This is the last thing that you need!"

"I've be stuck in that room for three days with you two clucks. I need air!"

"Open a window then"

"Very funny smartass"

"I don't want you to get sick again"

"Ditto"

I huffed and marched back inside. Two hours later it was decided that we best move on, probably to keep me from whining. Worked for me anyway. With the flu behind me it was just a question of what we would encounter next. That's the beauty of hunting, you never know what your next gig is, but could also bring trouble. Little did I know that was the case.

Alright, I know it's not my best so far but give me some credit as it was my first attempt at an original chapter and I have been suffering from a bit writer's block.

Please Review, requests and ideas are welcome.