Author's Note: I forgot to mention this last time… I changed my user name from Lucky Naruto08 to yurisnow. I'm still the same person. I'm not really a fan of Naruto anymore so I decided to change it up :] Just to clear away the confusion if there was any.

Who else loved the brotherly hug that Sam and Dean had on Friday night? That hug was long overdue.

Anyway, thanks for everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I love to get reviews! I'd love to hear what you have to say 'bout my story.

Later on, a song is playing and I was listening to my Supernatural playlist and that came on. I had to put it in here :D

What's wrong with Dean :O

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"Dean?" Sam shook his brother's shoulder trying to rouse him from his sleep, however, this wasn't working. The events replayed through his head. They had been arguing about eating crackers, Dean started coughing, he doubled over, began to cough up blood, and then he passed out. What could have caused that to happen to him?

Sitting back on his heels, Sam looked at his brother's face. His face was so pale that the blood looked neon red against his skin and out of place. His eyes glided over his brother's face and landed on his chest. Dean's chest was raising and falling irregularly which meant he was having trouble breathing. He needed to figure out what to do fast. A hospital would be a last resort. If Dean woke up in a hospital, it would not be pretty. He would freak out and demand to be released immediately no matter what Sam or the doctors thought.

"C'mon big guy," Sam muttered sliding his good arm underneath Dean's back raising him up. With the hand in a cast, Sam picked up Dean's feet and lifted him up onto the bed. Once Dean was under the covers Sam found a wash cloth and soaked it in cold water. He gently laid it over Dean's forehead hoping to get the fever to go down.

Once that was done, Sam grabbed his laptop and sat on his bed facing Dean so he could react quickly in case anything happened. Setting the laptop on his knees, Sam opened the search engine and began to look for symptoms that would match what Dean had.

After thirty minutes of looking, nothing seemed to match what Dean had. Sam ran through the list of symptoms. Congestion, wheezing, headache, vomiting, coughing, sneezing, coughing up blood, and passing out. It sounded like an extreme cold but nothing seemed to match it. Picking up his phone, Sam dialed a number that he had memorized when he was three.

"Yeah?"

"Bobby, can you help me with something?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair.

"You boys workin' a case?" Bobby asked.

"No."

"Alright, then what do you need help with?" Bobby asked, confused.

"Dean's sick a—"

"Is that idjit alright?" Bobby sounded worried.

"Not really," Sam glanced up at Dean who had not moved since Sam had put him back on his bed.

"Talk to me Sam. I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong with him," Bobby tried to get Sam to talk.

"Dean and I went to a bar and he got in a fight with someone else. He got his ass kicked."

"He got his ass kicked? What was wrong with him? He can take anyone down," Bobby sounded astonished.

"I know, Bobby. Anyway, he was pale then I brushed it aside because I thought he was just tired. You know how we get pale when we're tired." Sam heard a mumble in agreement from the elder hunter. "We got kicked out of the bar and had to walk back, in the rain, to the motel because we had left the Impala there."

"Why'd you idjits leave it there?"

"It was raining when left," Sam grumbled moving the laptop and stretching out on his bed. "We left the next morning and while we were driving, Dean passed out driving."

"That damn idjit!"

Ignoring Bobby's comment, Sam continued. "I took over and drove to the motel we're at now. I got Dean into the shower and I went to the store to get him medicine and food for myself 'cuz I figured we'd be here a while. When I got back he was out on his bed. Then late last night, I woke up to Dean throwing up. He's vomited once more since then. I was trying to get him to eat about forty five minutes ago. He wouldn't eat because he's that stubborn." "

"I would agree with that," Bobby injected.

"While we were laughing about something, I don't even remember what it was now, he started to cough. He doubled over and coughed up blood. After that he passed out. He's still out right now."

"Hmm… that doesn't sound good. Have you called a doctor?"

"Are you serious Bobby? He won't go within a hundred yards of a hospital." Sam lifted his head to check on Dean. He was still sleeping. "I've been looking for what he has but I can't find anything."

"Good point," There was silence from the hunter and Sam heard a clacking of keys. "Have you thought about pneumonia?"

"Why didn't I think of that," Sam almost punched himself with his cast. "It makes sense now."

"Didn't you have it when you were about five?"

"Yeah I was really sick and you and Dad were out on a hunt," Sam recalled the memory. It had not been fun for little five year old Sammy. Dean, who was nine at the time, didn't know what to do. He sat there trying to cool Sam down but it hadn't worked. During that time, Sam had been sick for a week and a half before John and Bobby had returned home. John being John, had been furious with Dean when he found out Sam was really sick. Bobby had defended Dean saying we weren't around had had only done the best he could.

"I remember that. John had 'bout blown the roof off the motel…"

"Yeah," Sam nodded not wanting to remember that day. "Anyway, I should go and take care of Dean."

"Alright son, call me if you need anything," Bobby said.

"Will do Bobby," Sam disconnected the call and threw his phone on the other side of the bed frustrated. "Why do you always get really sick?"

Sitting up, Sam turned the radio on to fill the silence. Maybe if he played music, it would help Dean wake up. After a couple of songs, 'Carry on Wayward Son' by Kansas came on and Sam started to sign along while getting another wash cloth and some medicine for Dean.

"Carry on my wayward son, there will be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no moooooooore," By now, Sam was belting out the chorus and hadn't noticed that Dean was stirring.

"Dude, could be you be anymore loud?"

Sam spun around to see Dean looking up at him like he was drunk. "You're awake!"

"Just in time to hear the chorus," Dean muttered laying back down. "You butchered it too."

"Shuddup, I like the song," Sam chuckled glad to have Dean awake again.

"At least I didn't butcher 'Wanted Dead or Alive'," Sam countered.

"Good point," Dean draped his arm over his eyes.

"You alright?" Sam moved closer to Dean holding the wash cloth so that he would be able to drape it across his forehead in order to get the fever down.

"I feel like crap," Dean muttered. "What happened?"

"You coughed up blood and passed out." This wasn't good. If Dean said he felt like crap then he much be really sick.

"Joy," The sarcasm just dripped from Dean's voice, "Do you know what's wrong?"

"Pneumonia."

Dean sighed and struggled to sit up. Sam was right there to catch Dean if he flattered or fell. "Yeah I know. I'm not too thrilled either."

"You're not the one who has it," Dean was sitting up now and he grabbed the water on the side table. He finished the cup off in one swallow.

"You want some crackers now?"