I had a few requests for a second chapter to this… Hope this is satisfactory!
Dean was awoken roughly to a loud banging on the door. He groaned miserably, eyebrows scrunched against the headache pounding at the base of his skull. He swallowed a lump in his throat, wincing at the burning sensation that it brought. His joints were achey, and he felt chilled through his hoodie and sweatpants. He internally cursed that, knowing that it meant he had developed a fever overnight. Fan-freaking-tastic. He ran a shakey hand through his sweat-matted hair and let out a deep sigh, feeling the rumbling in his chest. He didn't want to get out of bed to answer the door, but seeing that Sammy was still asleep, he rose on wobbly legs and opened the motel door slowly, a shotgun tucked behind it in his left hand. Standing on the doorstep was the motel's manager, who wore thick-lensed glasses and had a permanently "angry at the world" expression on his face. "What?" Dean demanded, though his crackling voice made it hard for him to sound stern.
The manager held out a gloved hand; it was freezing outside. "I've been lenient with you, Mr. Hammet," the man said, voice low and dull, "but I can simply not put it off for any longer. Your rent. Now."
Dean called him some nasty names through the fog in his brain. "We don't have the money," he said softly, throat set ablaze from the small action that was talking. If he was correct, Dad's down payment on this place had expired three days ago. They were three days overdue on a rent that was thirty-five dollars a day, which added up to… Dean couldn't bring himself to do the mental math. Not when he was feeling this rotten. All he could figure out was that they were way off.
The manager huffed in annoyance. "Listen to me, sir. I do not want to evict you, not when you need to provide for your brother in there"—Dean's eyes flickered back in the room where Sammy was still sleeping soundly—"but if you put it off much longer, I'm afraid I'll be forced to do so."
"I'll get you the money," Dean insisted, wincing against the flare of pain dancing its way through his throat. "I just need more time."
The manager squinted at him, making himself look absolutely absurd through his wire glasses. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Hammet?" he asked cautiously. "You look as if you're about to collapse."
" 'M fine," Dean growled, slamming the door in his face. Good riddance. Once he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps walking away, Dean let himself fall into the coughing fit he'd been holding in that whole conversation. His chest was so congested, up to the point where it hurt, and the coughing action only increased the pain in his throat by tenfold. He gasped miserably for breath, feeling as if the air wasn't getting where it was needed. He was bound to turn blue in the face soon if this continued for much longer. Luckily for him, that was when Sam woke up. His younger brother was at his side instantly, rubbing his back in calming circles. Slowly, his breathing was calmed and Dean was left a mess in the middle of the floor.
"It's okay, Dean," he heard Sam murmur. "C'mon, let's get you back to bed."
Dean wasn't totally sure about how he managed to get back to bed, but it was relief once he was buried under the blankets again, though they did nothing to soothe the chills that wracked his body. He was semi-aware of Sam touching his forehead, then muttering something disdainfully. He sighed painfully, and further tried to hide himself in the mound of blankets.
It was bad enough being sick, but it was even worse having your little brother take care of you. Dean wanted to curl up and die.
"Here, let me take your temperature," Sam's soft, cool voice whispered. Dean opened his mouth obediently and let the thermometer fall underneath his tongue, wincing from his tongue scratching his throat. The machine beeped, and Sam removed it, frowning at the little display.
"Bad?" Dean managed to rasp out.
"102," Sam replied, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. "Do you…should I get you some Advil?"
Dean nodded stiffly, sensing his brother's discomfort at the situation. He wished he were able to help, but his situation was a little…compromising at the moment.
Two round, red pills were held out in Sam's hand, but Dean blanched at the thought of taking them and actually swallowing them. Just swallowing his own saliva was a daunting task. How in the world would he swallow pills?
"Can't, S'mmy," he grumbled lowly, closing his eyes in attempt to reduce his headache.
Sam didn't respond for a moment, making Dean wonder if he'd walked away, but he said, "Dean, your fever's too high, and I don't want to have to call 911. Please, just take them?"
Dean shook his head like a child. "Throat hurts," he whined petulantly.
Sam sighed deeply. "If you take them, your throat will feel better," he tried to argue.
As appealing as some relief sounded, Dean couldn't do it. He tried to swallow them, he really did, but they couldn't make it past his swollen tonsils. A burst of agonizing pain made him whimper softly, and he was eternally grateful when Sam gave up at giving him medicine and let him sleep. He was miserable. He was cold and couldn't stop shivering, his throat felt as if someone had shredded it with a cheese grater, and he chest ached whenever he was forced to cough. When had he gotten so sick? He couldn't remember. All that crossed his mind were Sammy finally talking to him and…the Pythagorean theorem? Yes, they'd been doing geometry.
Dean officially hated geometry.
Though it probably wasn't the geometry's fault… He'd been sick for days before that, right? He honest-to-god couldn't remember. The fact that he was forgetting the prior days' events wasn't a good sign, signifying the high fever taking hold. Dean groaned softly, which in turn instigated a coughing fit that sent sputum flying out of his throat. Dean grimaced and swallowed thickly before letting the pulls of unconsciousness take him into a restless slumber.
Dean wasn't waking up, and Sam was pacing. He was burning up, so Sam had taken the blankets off of him and wrestled him out of his hoodie and sweats until he was just in his boxers. His skin felt hot and dry, not an ounce of sweat oozing out of him anymore, which was disheartening. Now, the fact that he was unresponsive was making Sam freak out. He'd fallen asleep this morning, and now it was evening and he was still out cold. Sam could hear how labored his breathing was, and it scared him. A lot.
So he called Dad.
He prepared himself beforehand for Dad not answering, because he rarely did, so he practiced the message he'd leave in his head. "Dad, Dean's really sick and I don't know what to do. If you don't call back within a few hours, I'm calling an ambulance 'cause his temperature's almost 104 and he hasn't woken up in almost twelve hours."
But, after only two rings, John's gruff voice came through: "Winchester speaking."
"Dad," Sam whispered softly, all words leaving his mouth at once. His rehearsed speech was forgotten instantly, and all he could say was, "Dad."
"Sam?" John questioned. "Sam, what is it?"
Sam swallowed, calming his nerves so that he could tell his father what the problem was. "Dean's sick… He's been sick for a few days now, he's just… Dad, I don't know what to do… I think I should call an ambulance, he's so bad." His words came tumbling out, like a dam of pent up feelings breaking. "I couldn't get him to swallow pills earlier, his throat's too swollen for that. He's got a nasty cough and his fever's too high, but he hasn't woken up since six this morning."
"Slow down for a moment, kiddo," John murmured. Sam could hear his steady breathing over the phone, and it acted as a calming menstration to the worried teenager. "What's his temp?"
"It was almost 104 when I checked it an hour ago."
John uttered a soft curse. "I'm at most two hours away. Don't call 911 yet unless things get worse. Try and wake him to at least get a little fluids in him. If I call you back, it means something's holding me up. Don't even answer, just call an ambulance. You understand?"
"Yessir," Sam said, his words rushed. He didn't often use the "yes sir" response like Dean did, but he was too worried to care about his little "teenage rebellion" right now. He hung up the phone and proceeded to try and shake Dean awake.
Nothing worked. Dean didn't so much as stir, and if not for the unnerving rumbling in his chest, he would think that his brother was dead. His pallor was a deathly gray, except for his cheeks, which were tainted with a bright pink flush. Sam tried any wake up techniques that wouldn't hurt Dean, but he still stayed asleep. Or unconscious. With a fever that high, there was no way he was sleeping soundly, though his body stayed still. Every so often, his face would contort in pain, but it would soon fall lax again. All Sam could do was watch and make sure nothing took a turn for the worse.
Sure enough, two hours later, Dad returned. He had a bag of pharmaceuticals in his hand, which he immediately laid down to go by his son's side. "Any change?" he asked in a short-clipped question. Sam understood; they had no time for needless chatter.
"I don't think so," Sam replied quietly.
He watched as his father expertly took his brother's temperature, frowned at the reading, then looked for any signs of responsiveness. Upon finding none, he then examined Dean's pupils and opened his mouth to check his throat. "Strep," he muttered, then cursed. "His tonsils are crazy swollen. I'm surprised he can still breathe."
Those words nearly stopped Sam's heart. That meant Dean needed a hospital, right?
"I have an IV somewhere in the truck," John was saying, almost to himself. "Getting some fluids in him should cool him, then we'll see if I can get any penicillin to pump into him. Clear it up in a few days."
Sam nodded idly. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, finding himself strangely relieved that his dad was here to handle the situation. He was scared at how quickly Dean's illness had progressed, but Dad didn't seem concerned at all. He had it under control, and Dean would be cared for.
Finally.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a review if you liked it!