They checked into another motel, a safe distance away from where Dean had stolen the car. He tossed his bag down and flopped onto the mattress.

"Hey." Sam came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What?" Dean asked irritably, propping himself up to lean against the headboard.

Sam reached out to touch his forehead. "I wanna see if you still have a fever."

"I'm fine." Dean unsuccessfully tried to duck his hand.

"You're still pretty warm."

"Yeah, thanks, House." Dean coughed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna google your symptoms."

"Already done. WebMD says it's cancer."

Sam glared, looking up from his phone. "It's more likely to be Bronchitis, Pneumonia, or Whooping Cough, according to this website."

"Cool. See? Nothing serious. Those all go away on their own." Dean closed his eyes. "I'm tired. Goodnight, Sammy."

Sam ignored the obvious attempt to end the conversation. "They go away faster with medication, and any of these conditions could actually get pretty serious..."

"I'm going to sleep now." Dean mumbled, kicking off his shoes.

"Fine. But this conversation isn't over."


Sam didn't fall asleep. He stayed up, reading a book and watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. His brother slept fitfully, tossing and turning. He coughed almost constantly.

Around 2 AM, Dean buried himself under all the blankets, and was still shivering. Sam walked over, gently pressing his hand to Dean's face. His eyes widened. Heat was radiating off his skin.

"Cold." Dean hissed, flinching at Sam's touch.

"Hey, your fever is getting worse."

"It's so cold, Sammy..." Dean started coughing again, clutching at his chest and gasping for air. His breaths were shallow and uneven, and the rattling sound was back.

Sam checked his pulse. His heart was racing, pounding against his chest. This wasn't good.

Dean pushed his hand away. "You're freezing..." He tried to push a blanket at Sam. "Get...warm...you'll catch a...cold." He wheezed.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. Come on, get up."

"No." Dean glared.

"Sorry, but yes." Sam pulled the covers back and shoved Dean's shoes at him.

"No." Dean repeated stubbornly, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth.

"I could call an ambulance and they could make you go."

"Fine." Dean laced up his boots and leaned on Sam.


The hospital was about a half hour drive, but Sam sped the whole way. He kept quiet, listening to every hitch in Dean's ragged breathing.

"Sam..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't...make a deal."

"What do you mean?" Sam looked over. Dean was staring at him intensely, fevered eyes struggling to focus.

"Don't do...what Dad did." He rasped. "Don't sell...your soul...for me."

Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I won't, because it's not gonna come to that. You're gonna be fine."

"I should have died, you know."

Sam looked over in alarm. "Don't ever say that! It's not true."

Dean grimaced, struggling to breathe. "Dad would still...still be here."

"Hey. Hey!" Sam reached over and gripped his shoulder. "Stay with me. We're almost there."

"It should've been me."

"No." Sam said simply, pulling in front of the ER. He jumped out and ran to the passenger side, catching Dean as he all but fell out of the car. "Help!" He called out.


Sorry about the short chapter, I've gotta work early tomorrow. Please leave a review! I'd love to know how I'm doing.