Author's note: Thanks again for the reviews. Feedback feeds the muse! Well, this is chapter 3 – could be the last chapter, or I could continue, making Sam more sick than first thought – complications? Let me know what you want. Is this the end, or should I continue?

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

Chapter 3

The scent of sickness permeated the air, and it hit Dean as soon as he opened the door to the hotel room.

The satisfied smirk left his face as he strode purposefully over to Sam's bed. Glancing at the tangled mess of limbs and sheets, he laid a hand on Sam's sweaty forehead, immediately recognizing the slight fever.

Shaking his brother gently, he was relived to hear the soft moan and be greeted by Sam's sleep filled eyes, opening just a fraction to look back at him.

"Dean?" he mumbled.

"Yeah Sammy …hey dude, you're sick …why didn't you call me?" He asked gently, continuing to assess Sam's condition.

"Nothing you could do …God, …wish I hadn't eaten that chicken salad sandwich."

Dean grinned. "Told you burgers were good for you. Maybe next time you listen to your big brother."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Hey dude, …really, how're you feeling?" Dean asked with genuine concern.

"Like ..ah …road kill." Sam mumbled. "I … ah ... do you think we could stay here like for another day or so?"

"Well, I'm not going to have you puking in my car."

"Nice Dean." Sam replied, closing his eyes and settling down for some more sleep. Might as well sleep whilst I can, he thought.

Sam continued to drift in a hazy half-sleep, half-awake state, listening to Dean bustling around the room. He acquiesced soundlessly when he felt Dean stick a thermometer in his ear, and place a damp cloth on his forehead. Finally, when Dean settled down, Sam drifted to a deeper sleep.

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The sound of the motel room door clicking shut and the scent of coffee suffusing the air woke Sam from blessed oblivion.

Swallowing back his nausea, he watched as Dean deposited the cups of coffee and a half eaten donut onto the small laminate table. Dean then shoved the rest on the donut into his mouth sloppily, before bringing the second cup of coffee to his bedside table.

He wasn't sure if it was the scent of the coffee making him nauseous again, or the sight of Dean's open mouth roughly chewing the donut, crumbs falling to the floor.

Sam pushed down the sheets, reading himself for another dash to the bathroom. Looking down, he was embarrassed to notice that he was still only wearing the towel around his waist. Embarrassment was short lived however, as his churning guts suddenly became more insistent. He swung his legs to the floor, standing quickly, before he was lurching sideways, struggling to find his equilibrium.

Seeing his predicament, Dean quickly shot out a hand to steady his trembling brother.

"Bathroom." Sam stated with urgency.

Propping his arm around his brother, offering the needed support without question, Dean steered his brother into the bathroom, hovering just inside the door.

"Thanks Dean …ah … I can take it from here." He blushed.

"You sure Sammy? …Cause you know I've had plenty of practice changing your diapers." Dean chuckled on his way out of the bathroom. "Hey, call if you need me …but seriously dude … you're on your own with the diapers." Was said in jest; through the now thankfully closed door.

"Oh, and Sammy. Don't lock the door."

"It's Sam."

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Sam spent nearly an hour paying homage to the toilet, before taking the opportunity to shower and shave. He really felt like crap and was hoping the ritual cleansing would at least improve his outward appearance. Shaving was a necessary step in his fight for normality, but was made difficult by the slight tremor to his hands and the occasional chill that racked his body. It was worth it however, as he did feel slightly improved when he'd completed these basic tasks.

Wrapping the damp towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom, seeking out some fresh clothes to complete the now clean package.

Dean was perched on the bed, cleaning their weapons when Sam entered the room.

"Disturbing performance Sammy. Feel any better?" Dean asked, looking inquiringly at this brother.

Sam felt the heat of a flush stain his neck and face. "Yeah Dean, I feel just great." He replied sarcastically, burying his face in his bag, searching for clothes whilst trying to hide his telltale flush of embarrassment that Dean had borne witness to his latest episode.

Sam quickly dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, acknowledging the fact that he wouldn't be leaving the room any time in the near future. Exhausted by his efforts, he returned to his bed, TV remote control in hand. Might as well get as comfortable as I can, he thought; he was going to be here a while.

Sam divided his attention between the TV program and watching Dean clean their weapons. He was bored.

"Hey, I know I got all the looks, but quit staring." Dean barked at him.

"Just making sure you're doing a good job …" Sam shot back.

"Yeah, good one. Next time I'll let you clean the guns …" Dean grinned back.

"Nah, you're good." Sam replied quickly.

Sam went back to watching the TV, struggling to ignore his growing thirst. As much as he wanted a drink, he was afraid to put anything in his stomach, even plain water. A few moments later, licking his parched lips, he decided to try for a small cup of water, thirst overcoming any possible consequences. Acknowledging his previous feeble attempt of getting out of bed, Sam this time rose slowly, using the bed head for support. The room swum alarmingly for a moment, before Sam managed to bring everything back into focus.

Dean was at his side in an instant, fearful that Sam would fall after watching his swaying rise from the bed. He hovered just at Sam's side, ready to lend a hand if it was needed.

Sam took a step away from the bed towards the kitchen, grabbing onto Dean for support when he felt momentarily dizzy.

"Bathroom?" Dean asked.

Licking his dry lips; "water" Sam croaked.

"I'll get it" Dean stated in exasperation. "You should've asked. It's not like I'm not right here."

Dean helped ease Sam back down onto the bed before fetching him the glass of water.

"Thanks Dean" Sam whispered, tentatively taking a small sip before placing the glass on the table beside the bed.

"You sure this is just food poisoning?" Dean asked in concern, taking in his brother's weakened state.

"Yeah, I'm sure. …not like this isn't the first dose I've ever had." He responded with a grimace, reflecting on past episodes. With the traveling that he and Dean did, and the dives they often ate in, it was surprising really that they didn't get sick more often.

"How is it that you get food poisoning more often than me?" Dean asked rhetorically.

Sam looked at Dean blankly, unaware that someone was keeping count.

"You must just have a weaker stomach …need to toughen you up on more manly solid food. …That girly lettuce stuff obviously doesn't do you any good." Dean smirked.

"Yeah, and you've never gotten sick from a burger" came Sam's sarcastic reply.

"I don't know, …at least with a nice greasy burger, you get to experience pleasure before the pain."

"Dean" Sam held back a groan. "Bathroom." He gasped, trying to get out of the bed quickly.

Dean rushed to Sam's side, assisting him back to the bathroom. "You know the drill." Dean said "Don't lock the door … yell if you need me."

Sam closed the door on his brother, grateful for his brother's presence.

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A/N: This could be the end of the story. I'm unsure; should I keep in short, or should I continue? Please review and let me know.