A/N: Loved receiving and reading all the reviews. As a thank you, and because I couldn't resist the pleas to update quickly, here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

Shared Burdens

Chapter 4

Dean sat on the hard wooden bar stool, perusing his surroundings. The place was starting to get busy and liven-up with the after work crowd beginning to drift in. After hitting a couple of bars in the area, and with a few hundred dollars lining his pocket, he'd finally come to this bar to unwind.

His afternoon had been clouded by his inability to relax, let go, and get into the swing of things. It took him a while to realize that it wasn't the past hunt that had him feeling remorseful, it was how disgracefully he'd treated Sam. He had to admit that he couldn't really blame Sam for bailing on him and instead choosing to spend the afternoon alone. He'd been like a bear with a sore head, giving Sam the silent treatment one moment before snapping his head off the next. He'd known he was doing it, known he was treating Sam poorly, but just couldn't seem hold back from being a bastard every time he opened his mouth. Now here he was, pathetically wallowing in his own guilt over Sam and doing nothing about it.

He was roused from his thoughts by the persistent ring of his phone. He took a quick look at the caller-id even though he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Hey Sammy" he answered.

"Hey Dean. Look man, I'm sorry…"

"No. No man. I'm sorry. …What I said …you know …I didn't mean it".

"Yeah man. …We good?" Sam couldn't keep the hope from his voice.

"Yeah, we're good. …You back at the room?"

"Yeah …gonna catch an early night."

"Dude, it's barely dark. You know, there's this hot chick at the bar …"

"Forget it Dean. …anyway, wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"Couldn't happen Sammy, couldn't happen." Dean said with a grin. "Look, I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Yeah Dean."

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With a smile still on his face, Sam eased the phone from his ear and tossed it towards the table. Some of the tension eased from his body, knowing Dean was going to be okay; from knowing that he and Dean were going to be okay.

Sam eased a little further back down the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Closing his eyes, exhaustion triumphed over the aches in his body and he promptly drifted into a light sleep.

When Sam woke next it was night, but the room was dimly lit by the lights outside. Checking his watch, he noted that he'd only slept for about an hour. Although his body and head throbbed relentlessly, he thought it was probably the hunger that woke him. Except for picking at a sandwich earlier, he'd eaten nothing all day. Yesterday hadn't been much better. Knowing there was nothing he could do about the hunger until Dean returned, he decided he could at least swallow a couple more Tylenol.

Intense dizziness overwhelmed him as soon as he stood, forcing him back onto the bed. Slumped at the edge of the mattress, he dropped his head in to his hands, waiting for the feeling to pass. When the room had stopped spinning, he again rose slowly to his feet, careful this time to keep his hand on the wall for support. Looking around the room, he spied the packet of Tylenol where he'd left it after emptying his pockets on the dresser; he quickly took the couple of steps to retrieve it before returning to sit on his bed. He washed two more pills down with a gulp of water before slowly sipping the rest of the refreshing liquid, then letting the empty bottle drop to the floor.

Lying back under the covers, he waited desperately for the pills to kick in, desperate for the release of sleep. He concentrated on breathing deeply, hoping he hadn't made a mistake in drinking the water too quickly. He was sure he could feel it sloshing from side to side in his empty stomach, churning and tossing. He swallowed the nausea down, turning on to his side and wrapping his arms across his middle. Closing his eyes, he waited for sleep.

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Dean stealthily entered the motel room, just in case Sam was already asleep. It was still early, but with Sam's unusual sleeping patterns, you never knew. On entry, he instantly took in the dim room and the huddled form under the covers on the far bed. Smiling, he digested himself of his jacket before rummaging through his bag for his clean sweats and toiletries. He was in the bathroom with the door closed before he turned on the light. Stripping off his clothes and stepping in to the shower, he hummed quietly as the water washed over him.

The sound of the shower was the first thing Sam heard when he woke. Dean was back he thought with relief. Pushing up a little in the bed and easing onto his back, he settled to wait for his brother to finish in the bathroom.

Dean finished up in the bathroom, turning the light off before opening the door to the main room, not wanting to disturb Sam. The light coming in through the thin curtains sufficiently illuminated the room so that he could easily see his way.

"Dean, you're back."

"Knew you went to college for a reason Sammy" Dean chuckled, seeing his brother propped up in the bed awake.

"Very funny Dean."

Dean balled up his damp towel and propelled it at Sam. Bull's-eye he thought as it sailed through the air towards its target.

Sam saw Dean toss the towel. Eyes wide open, it seemed that everything happened in slow motion, yet his reactions were too sluggish to ward off the projectile. It hit him dead centre in the stomach. He wouldn't have thought a towel could cause so much agony. He felt the blood drain from his face as a wave of agony washed over him. Gasping, he clutched a hand over his stomach trying to stem the pain.

Dean grinned as the towel hit its target. Then, the smile disappeared, quickly replaced with a look of shock as he watched Sam turn a ghastly shade of pale and gasp in pain.

"Sammy" he said, advancing quickly towards Sam's side.

"Dean" Sam gasped, the pain radiating through him.

Sam struggled to shove the sheets aside in his need to get to the bathroom; already half out of the bed by the time Dean reached his side.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean uttered in concern.

"Bathroom …sick" was his curt reply. Sam could feel the nausea rising in his throat and knew he was going to be sick. Now. He swallowed convulsively, desperately trying to delay the inevitable.

Recognizing Sam's symptoms and instantly understanding the urgency of the situation, Dean helped his brother from the bed and in to the bathroom. Sam leaned on Dean heavily, needing his brother's support to make it to the bathroom without delay. Reaching the toilet, he swayed unsteadily until Dean helped lower him to his knees. No longer holding back, he gripped the edge of the toilet with trembling hands as the bile rose swiftly up his throat.

Vomiting was agony, made worse by the limited contents of his stomach. Before long, Sam was reduced to dry heaves, each spasm causing shafts of pain to radiate through his body.

Dean kept a hand securely on Sam's upper back throughout the ordeal, ready to support Sam should he collapse. He cringed as the heaves racked his brother's body, trying unsuccessfully to look away. Dean rubbed Sam's back as the heaves lessened to be intermingled with careful spitting. Stroking Sam's back in soothing circles, he was desperate to convey his reassurance and comfort.

Sam was exhausted when the episode was over, but was unwilling to move too far away from the toilet for a few more minutes. He wanted to make sure it was over, for now at least.

He could feel his body slumping, no longer having the energy or necessity to hold itself upright, and he was powerless to stop it. He felt the comforting hand of his brother as he folded his knees to sit on the floor, leaning on the wall for support.

"Sammy, what's wrong? …Talk to me…" Dean pleaded.

"I …I'm okay" Sam stuttered, still trying to get his breathing under control.

"Obviously Sam."

"Dean. Can …can you give me a couple of minutes?" Sam practically begged his brother.

"Okay Sam. Two minutes. Then you're talking."

Sam watched as Dean strode from the room, pausing to glance keenly at Sam from the doorway. Sam looked away, needing a few moments of privacy to regain his composure.

Leaving the bathroom door wide open, Dean strode back in to the bedroom, switching on the main light on his way. He started pacing across the room, looking in on Sam every time he passed the bathroom. Observing Sam's pallor and unsuccessfully masked pain, Dean was having difficulty giving Sam the couple of minutes he'd promised. He was really worried. He'd seen Sam suffer through visions and be injured during hunts, but seeing his brother tonight had his protective instincts on high alert. He didn't like seeing Sam in pain; in pain and not knowing what was wrong.

Pacing past the dresser for the third time, Dean glanced at the jumble of items resting where Sam had obviously emptied his pockets. The small white card with a hospital emblem printed in the corner secured his instant attention. Unmindful of Sam's privacy, he picked up the card, quickly scanning its details. In rapid succession, he then singled out the other piece of paper, immediately recognizing it as a doctor's prescription. A prescription for pain medication, which noticeably hadn't been filled.

Dean felt as though a knife had pierced his heart. The knowledge that Sammy had been at the hospital this afternoon, alone, while he'd been in a bar was devastating. He dropped the bits of paper back in place. Sam's two minutes were up. Dean wanted; no; he needed, some answers now.

Striding back into the bathroom, Dean was unsurprised to find Sam slumped in the same position. Sam looked really uncomfortable. Quickly flushing the toilet, he crouched down to Sam's side.

Sam's head hung weakly towards his chest, and Dean gently placed his hand under Sam's chin, tipping his face upwards to look him in the eye.

Dean was upset to see the utter look of defeat on Sam's face. He could see the dark hollows under his brother's eyes and the tracks along his cheeks where a few tears must have escaped. He brushed aside the curl which threatened to flop across Sam's eye.

"Ready to get up?" he gently asked.

"Yeah."

Hearing Sam's whispered reply, Dean wrapped his arm across Sam's back, hooking his hand securely under Sam's arm. As soon as he felt Sam attempt to rise, he braced himself and used all his strength to help hoist Sam to a standing position. Sam leaned on the sink for a moment, before turning on the water. He rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face as Dean continued to support him. As soon as he shut off the water, he felt Dean's grip on him tighten, ready to help him back to bed.

Dean guided Sam's lanky body back to bed, relieved to have made the trip without incident. Sam had leaned heavily on him the whole way, which only caused Dean's anxiety to increase. Dean knew from experience that Sam liked to be independent, and even when he was injured, Sam only reluctantly accepted assistance.

Dean waited until Sam was back in bed, covers tucked around his shoulders, before he started the questioning he'd been forcibly holding in for the last few minutes.

"Sam, I want answers …now." Dean's soft gentle tone was in stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

TBC.

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A/N: Yes, I do read all the reviews and listen to suggestions. It's what keeps me writing and updating. Really, who'd continue a story that nobody reviewed?

Special thank you to Kaewi, who suggested that Dean should find out that Sam was sick by accidentally hurting him. I thought I'd already inflicted enough pain on Sam …but apparently not.