Disclaimer: I'm still not rich enough to own any of the boys. *sigh* But still I feel so rich for being able to love them.
Betas: bia1007 and PsiChic (This is our month! Yay!)

a/n: The feedback for the last chapter totally had me blown away!! Thus it gave me a boost to start writing the next one and here it is! Thank you thank you!!

Chapter 6

Somebody was shaking him and it annoyed him completely. All he wanted was a peaceful sleep and yet he couldn't get any. The shaking was coming and going alternately. One second it was there, the next it was gone - when it came his body hurting so bad he felt like screaming and when it went away he was so weary he could cry.

He just wanted to sleep and yet…

"Come on big guy," the voice blared in his ears, making him cringe as it intensified the headache that was slowly taking place at the back of his skull. "Wake up now…"

Sam opened his eyes to slits – glassy hazel orbs looking around with unfocused gaze – and gasped with horror seeing a clown grinning down at him. The grim smile, the painted face and the red button nose were dawning before him, teasing and mocking with an evil cackle straight from hell.

"Go away, leave me alone!" Sam screamed on the top of his lungs, flailing around frantically to push the clown away from him. But the efforts were fruitless and the clown came closer instead, grabbing him by the wrists. "No! Please don't!" He whimpered.

"Samm…" When the clown called out to him his neck prickled and his blood ran cold.

"Please!!!" Sam cried and rolled over to his side – effectively wriggling himself off the clown's deadly grasp. Despite the protesting muscles, he tumbled off the bed and landed hard on the floor. 'Help me…Dean!' Battling the bitter bile that burnt his throat, Sam crawled away, pushing with his knees - to distant himself from the killer clown. If he was going down, he would go down fighting. "Get away from me!!"

"Don't do this Sammy…you're freaking me out," the clown said.

'I'm freaking you out?' Sam questioned mentally. 'Have you looked in the mirror lately?'

But the clown blocked his path and dropped on the floor in front of Sam. His hand on Sam's shoulder caused him to jerk away to one side and fall down. Cowering in fear at the farthest corner of the room, the youngest Winchester whimpered painfully and sadly. "Deann…" he called for help.

Sam could not think straight. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't clear his fuzzy head. The headache wouldn't go away and his body was scorching hot, the heat burning him alive. The only person he could think of right now was his protector, his big brother. "Deann…help me."

No Dean. No protection.

Curling his knees – gathering them to his middle – Sam sobbed. Breathing had become painful and Sam was tired of it. So he stopped breathing.

"Hey! Hey! Don't do that!" The clown crawled over to him, reaching out a hand but didn't touch. He looked like as if he was scared of touching him, or hurting him. "Breathe dammit!" The sound of his voice was tight with worry.

The hyperventilation cleared Sam's mind slightly and he tried to focus again. This time, instead of the clown he saw Dean coming towards him. When he was closer, Dean shrunk and became younger. He was becoming so young Sam almost didn't recognize him if not for the outstanding green eyes and the worry lacing his face – a look that he grew up with.

"Dean?" Sam finally saw what he wanted to see. Still he was keeping himself from breathing, fearing if he started now Dean would disappear.

"Sammy…?" The little Dean kneeled before him, one hand on his shoulder – cool skin against warmer one. "You've got to breathe Sam." His big brother who was not at all big was pleading. Sam could see that Dean's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Dean was freaking out, because of him. Dean was always the calm one, why did he freak out now?

Dean was small and he was freaking out. There was a clown. Where did it he goes? What the hell is happening here?

Amidst the confusion and the fear, Sam had forgotten how to breathe. It felt as if his lungs had frozen and the air had turned icy cold. Every intake of breath was becoming painful and Sam was getting desperate.

Dean knew that. He always knew when Sam was in pain, when Sam needed comfort and a pillar to provide him support.

"I've gotcha Sammy." Dean wrapped his arms around him. Though Dean barely could put his skinny arms around Sam, it grounded the young man and kept him warm. This Dean was a child but still had the energy of the man that Sam had always known. He carefully eased him to sit and lean with his back against the wall.

Dean held his chin and raised his face so that he would be looking at him straight in the eyes. "Little brother…you look at me now." There was authority in Dean's words, yet they were uttered in a gentle voice, slowly lulling Sam to sleep.

And that was what Sam did, falling asleep.

A gentle slap on his face woke him with a jolt. "Stay with me Sammy."

Sam's blood shot eyes focused on Dean's green ones. His vision was becoming blurry but he took in Dean's words and focused on him, only him and nothing else. Sam shut off his senses from everything around them until he could hear only Dean's breathing, calm against his frantic one.

"Breathe now…" Dean's voice was becoming distant as Sam tried focusing on Dean's inhales and exhales of breath. Instinctively, Sam followed suit. He started breathing in sync with Dean and felt their hearts beat as one.

"You did good little brother…" Again, he was wrapped in Dean's warmth and he couldn't help but engulfing himself in its richness. Slowly, Sam was ebbing away from consciousness. Now that he was safe – that Dean was there for him – Sam could go back to sleep.

"Now, how are we going to get you back to bed?" Dean's question had him smirking.

"Told ya Dean…" Sam mumbled, almost unsure of what he was about to say himself.

"What?" There was anticipation in that tone.

Sam sneered feebly. "Veggies make you stronger."

"Shuddup Sammy," and Sam thought he heard an amused snort at the end of that sentence. He wouldn't mind sitting here now, as long as he had Dean – didn't matter if he was small - with him. Nuh-uh, this was more comfortable than any bed in the world.

This was home.

…………………………………

Dean watched as the MA pricked and prodded Sammy's arms, looking for a vein to draw blood from. When he learned blood test needed to be done on Sammy, he was thankful Sam had talked him into not bringing both of them to the hospital. His brother had mentioned about both of them having identical DNA and gene trait, which was impossible unless they were twins.

But now Dean really felt like punching the burly man for good. Little Sammy was screaming out of his lungs when the first needle prick didn't meet a good vein. Yet the stupid man kept on prodding Sammy's arm with the needle, intimidating the little one who was already scared out of his guts. It was Dean holding him to the bed that kept the little one unmoving or else he would have fled from there.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Dean couldn't take it anymore. Sammy's wail was killing him. It hurt so badly to see his little brother's pain and not knowing how to help the little one.

"Relax sir," the MA said calmly, as if the anger in Dean's voice didn't affect him at all.

"Relax my ass!!" Dean retorted. If he wouldn't have held Sammy, he'd have knocked daylights out of the guy for hurting his Sammy.

Finally the vein was found – Dean thanked God for that. But the process hurt as much as the pricking itself. So when Sammy wailed painfully, Dean took the baby in his arms and started rocking him back and forth, lulling him. It worked, like always.

"Now go! And don't come back!" Now that Sammy was not trashing around anymore, he could do whatever he wanted to do with the MA - killing him for instance.

Whether it was because of fear or annoyance, the burly MA left in a hurry – didn't even turn to give them a second look or apologize. Asshole!

"Deannie…" Sammy sobbed into his chest, grappling at Dean's shirt with an iron-like grip.

"It's okay Sammy…I'm here." Dean bent down and buried his face into Sammy's shaggy hair. It smelled of peach, Sam's newly bought shampoo that Dean despised so much.

Speaking of Sam, Dean couldn't help but worry how his little brother – the older little brother - was doing. He had left his younger self in charge of taking care of sick Sam before he came to the hospital to have Sammy examined. Though he didn't have the slightest doubt that his little self would be able to carry out his job perfectly, Dean was still worried.

Sam was a mess when Dean had left for the hospital. He had not looked any better than little Sammy. The fever up to 102, Sam was wheezing like an asthma patient and he clung to Dean's jacket like it was his lifeline – the same way Sammy was holding him now - when Dean promised he would be back as soon as all was done with Sammy. He hated leaving Sam like that but little Sammy needed the treatment if he wanted both his little brothers to get better. By saving Sammy, he would be saving Sam as well.

The nurses and medical assistant came and went but Dean was left with no information of Sammy's condition. They kept telling him that the doctor would come by soon and Dean told them to stick their words to where the sun doesn't shine because he had had enough of the fake promises.

Dean had been at the hospital for half of the day now and the last time he checked on Sam was two hours ago. It had not been good news then. The young Dean reported of a delirious Sam and the fever spiking up to 103. Not good! And the degree was told by a panicky little Dean over the phone.

Carefully turning Sammy's around so the baby would be facing him, Dean fished for his cell in his jacket pocket. He dialed Sam's number and waited for the receiver to pick up the call. As he waited anxiously, Dean's fingers carded Sammy's sweaty hair. The heat emitting from the baby's head was worrying.

When the call was finally picked up "How is Sam?" was blurted impulsively and his arms on Sammy tightened.

………………………………

"I don't know what to do" The seven year old yelled nervously into the phone. He was torn into two, split into halves, as on one side he stood listening to his older self talking on the phone while on the other he had to listen to the awful sound emitting from the bathroom. "He was seeing things and now he's vomiting for almost half an hour." Fear was in his voice.

Keeping the phone to his ear, Dean walked to the bathroom door and pushed it softly – shrinking away slightly at the pungent smell. "Man, he's a train wreck," his face fell seeing Sam slouched over the porcelain bowl, face resting on folded arms – so weak and so sick, he'd decided to stay near the bowl in case his stomach was about to do more flips

Sam lifted his head weakly and glanced wearily at young Dean. The hazel eyes reluctantly opened to slits, showing a faint gleam of recognition before they were promptly closed again in a tight scrunch. He moaned painfully as a white hot pain seared up his body, shaking him terribly.

"When are you coming back?" The young boy crouched next to Sam and gave his gigantic little brother a rub on his back. He sighed with relief as he felt Sam's tensed muscles relax under his touch. "Okay…just look out for Sammy," and I'll look out for him here. With that Dean flipped off Sam's cell and shoved it into his pocket.

Thank God Dean had taught him how to use the cell. It took him some time to get familiar with the gadget but he did it anyway. Well, Winchesters were always fast learners.

"Hey! You're good?" Dean cupped Sam's neck and flinched at the heat radiating from his brother's body. A restless moan was all he got for an answer.

Dean really didn't know how to comfort Sam. If it would have been little Sammy, he'd have cradled him in his arms and rocked him until the baby fell asleep. But now the Sam sitting ahead of him was too big to be picked up and to be rocked in his arms. How could he do it?

It was hard at first to admit and to accept that the gangly guy was his little brother. He really couldn't imagine how on earth time travel could happen. He might be a kid but he was wise enough to know the idea of time traveling was outrageous. And angels? He still didn't buy it.

But when he looked into Sam's eyes, he realized he was looking at the same baby boy he'd been nurturing for all his life. Sam might be all big and tall, but he was the same little Sammy who wanted nothing but his big brother's attention and care. Dean could see through him like a pane of glass.

What was weird though, Dean could see this big Sam needed even more love than little Sammy. He'd been raising his baby brother since forever, always seeing what the baby needed by looking into those round hazel eyes. But what he saw in the 27 years old Sam's was a craving for love that he'd never seen in little Sammy's eyes. What had happened between them that left Sam to be so distraught and deprived?

"I'm fine Dean…" and since when had Sam learnt the Winchester's motto – sucking up all the pain and not letting anyone know. "You should go to bed…it's late." Between those words of concern there were sharp intakes of breath that cut through Dean's heart and made his stomach clench.

"What about you?" Dean's hand didn't leave Sam's back. It still moved in a soothing circular motion. "What will you do?"

"I'll stay here…"

Sam coughed into the crook of his elbow and spat into the bowl. The violent series of vomiting from the last half an hour had left his body drained and he knew he was on the verge of getting dehydrated from how clammy his skin was and the fact that he had stopped sweating some time ago. It would be any time now that he'd start to have seizures – which he hoped would not happen, it would freak out the little kid completely.

If luck was not on his side though and he'd start to seize he didn't want the young boy to see it. It would be a traumatic experience for him and Sam couldn't afford burdening him with more disturbing images. Even he himself, all grown-up, couldn't forget the image of Dean praying to the Porcelain God after nights of too much drinking, much less a little kid of seven would be able to.

"Then what made you think I'm going to leave you alone?"

Dean went to the sink – his heart felt sick sensing how Sam tensed when he lifted his hand away from him – and filled a glass with water from the faucet. Standing over Sam, Dean saw how much his presence was needed though it was never been asked.

The hazel eyes were open again, showing Dean how much Sam longed for him to be there. For the average kids of his age the look might have meant nothing, but Dean was not average. He had stopped being average when his mom died.

The young boy kneeled in front of Sam and handed him the glass. "Drink." It was an order.

Sam shook his head wearily. He was unsure he could keep it down and not spew everything out once he'd taken a gulp. "You drink it," and Sam cringed at how rebellious he sounded.

But Dean was patient – even at seven he was a good nurturer. He had after all mastered the art of child caretaking at the very young age of five. Giving Sam's shoulder a good squeeze he said "Come on Sam…you gotta drink or you'll get de-deh…well water deficiency or something!"

Sam snorted and later winced when the acrid air he had breathed in burnt his throat like fire. "It's dehydrated Dean."

"Whatever!" Rolling his eyes, Dean took Sam's hand and carefully wrapped his fingers around the glass. Sam's skin was too cold for his liking and it had turned to the color of milk. Not good. "Drink now Sammy…"

"It's Sam." Sam took a sip and braced himself real hard so he would not throw up. He looked at Dean, saying 'no more' with his eyes – the puppy dog eyes.

His seven year old big brother ignored the puppy dog eyes completely. It seemed like the look wouldn't work on Dean in protective big brother overdrive. "Finish it little brother." When Sam unclenched his fingers from the glass, Dean knew he had to do it.

"Please Dean…" Sam begged as Dean cupped the back of his neck and put the brim of the glass to his lips. Though small, young Dean was as adamant as the older Dean. "I can't…not now." His tummy was doing the flips again.

"Sammy…" the plea was irresistible and Sam found himself obliging to Dean's demand. He took another sip and the liquid hadn't even reached his stomach when everything rolled out in laps of violent heaves. Sam went into another series of retching and he thought he would die of it.

When he was done, there was zero energy left in him and Sam fell limply to the marble floor. Dean scrambled to his side and quickly pulled him up so he would be leaning against the tub. Sam moaned in pain, the manhandling was making his achy muscles hurt even more. Couldn't blame Dean though, Sam was way bigger than Dean now – bulkier if he should add – and it must have been tough work to pull him up.

"I'm sorry man….I'm so sorry," there was guilt in Dean's trembling voice.

"S'okay." Sam let his head loll on the edge of the tub. He couldn't even keep himself straight anymore. Damn! He was barely sitting on his own. It was Dean sitting next to him that provided him the support.

Dean, his big brother - his pillar for support. He was not being picky, but somehow he wished his big brother – the bigger one – was here. Not that the little one was not doing his job, he did an excellent job by the way, but Sam missed the other one so much he wanted him to be here.

"When is Dean coming back?" Again, Sam couldn't believe how much like a kid he sounded

"Sammy was admitted…so, maybe tomorrow after all the tests were done." Dean explained as he reached for the washcloth hanging by the sink. Turning on the faucet from the tub, he wetted the cloth with hot water and dabbed it on Sam's stomach. Sam flinched a little at the sudden heat but relaxed soon after that.

"Guess he wasn't doing so hot huh?" The good side of him being sick was that he was more expressive compared to Sammy. The baby wasn't able to explain what was wrong with him – which part of his body hurt the most, how he was feeling, how intense was the pain, et cetera. Dean – Sam's Dean – had been calling the younger Dean for the progress on his part because whatever Sam was feeling told what little Sammy was experiencing but could not tell.

"Yeah! They're going to keep him for tonight…do some tests, put him on some pain medication."

Now Sam wished he was as lucky. He wished that the pain medication would work like the pain and the sickness – that whatever Sammy was having, he got it too – but it seemed that the good things didn't work that way. When Sammy had drifted off to lands of lollipops and candies, Sam was still fighting the urge to rip his stomach open and clean it thoroughly so he wouldn't have anything in him to be thrown up.

Sam wished he was at the hospital with Dean and Sammy because a shot of morphine would feel wonderful right now. But he couldn't take the risk. Tests were going to be done including taking their blood samples. And when the test results came out, they would be causing panic frenzy among the docs. How could they explain he and little Sammy shared the same DNA?

No, no! Only twins shared the identical gene, not two men with huge age difference. Nuh-uh. That was the explanation Sam gave Dean when his big brother wanted to take him to the hospital with little Sammy. They might cause panic attacks and then the world would turn upside down – at least for them – if Dean were to take him to the hospital too.

But now, Sam thought screw the gene and the DNAs things. He was feeling so bad he wished he had never said anything about those freaky things to Dean.

"You know…I can always call 911, we can go to another hospital." Dean – the little one – was able to read him like a book since he switched on his mother hen mode. 'He's good'.

Instead of agreeing with Dean, Sam shook his head. Getting doped meant he wouldn't be conscious of any possible harm, and that would make it impossible to take care of little Dean.

"No…m'fine." Sam slurred. He heard the boy sigh in annoyance. "Hey Dean…?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry dude…"

"Why?"

"You have to take care of me…see me got sick and all."

"And why you should be sorry for that?" The grip on Sam's arm was getting tighter.

"You're just a kid Dean…you should act like a kid." Sam rested his head on the bathtub's edge. "What you see here might traumatize you."

"Man…what are you? A walking vocabulary guidebook?" Dean was surprised at how eloquent Sam could be even when he was sick. "If I were to get traumatized…it should have happened earlier."

"What?" Sam coughed again and Dean's hand quickly moved up to his chest – stayed there to offer him grounding.

"I'm the one taking care of you big guy…since you were just a baby." Dean put his other hand on Sam's forehead, pressing his head down as the cough fit rocked his body. "Who do you think changed your diapers?"

Sam cringed at the thought. "That's gross."

"I'm the one who should say that."

They both shared a moment of utter silence before Sam finally said "Thanks."

"Aww…Sam, don't be such a crybaby." Dean grunted. "You're breaking my heart."

Sam huffed with amusement. "Sorry…"

"Shut up now will ya'?" Dean had dealt with a lot of sick Sam and hurt Dad throughout the years without Mom that he'd been quite a skillful nurse. So he knew that Sam was getting more and more tired and sick. The dehy-dehyd-whatever was already starting and Dean hoped he could get his little brother to drink something before things turned for the worse; that would need him to make that desperate 911 call.

"Deannie…" the small little brother was taking over Sam again. Dean had learnt that Sam would only call him Deannie in desperate situation where his heart had taken control over his mind.

"Sammy?"

"Co-cold…" Sam's teeth had started to chatter and his body shook violently.

"Crap!" Dean went into panic mode. He shot up to his feet – intending to get the blankets – but was stopped by Sam's hand locking his wrist in a tight grip. Looking into Sam's frantic eyes Dean could see the fear of being alone in there. He stooped over Sam and carded his fingers through Sam's damp hair and assured "Listen Sammy…I'm just going to get the blankie, need to keep you warm."

Dean knew Sam was not the big Sam anymore. It was the little Sammy he was talking to. "I'll be back in seconds, I promise."

"Uh…okay." Sam's grip loosened and Dean wasted no more time.

Like he had promised, Dean came back immediately – as if he never went away at all. He pulled the blanket over Sam's limp body and bent over Sam. "Sam…this is not good, we have to get you back to bed." If Sam was going to sleep, he should do it at a warmer place. Not in the bathroom.

"Kay Deannie…" Sam followed Dean's words like they were his religion. He propped one hand on the tub and tried to heave himself up – stumbling once but Dean quickly offered him a scaffold by supporting his side.

"All right Sammy…one foot at a time now," guided Dean. It felt like he was teaching Sam how to walk all over again. The pit patters of Sammy's little feet as he made a beeline were still ringing in his ears like it was yesterday.

"Which foot?" Sam asked absentmindedly.

Dean contemplated for a moment. "Right one."

"Your right or mine?"

"Your right."

"Okay." Sam hesitated for a moment. "Umm…Deannie? Which one is right?"

Dean sighed. This was going to be a lot of hard work. "Okay Sammy…when I say move, you just lift any foot that you like and we continue from there all right?" Sam's weight on him was getting heavier and he didn't know how much longer he could support him before they'd both tumble.

"I always liked my left foot…" Sam looked down to his feet adoringly. He had almost made a face plant to the floor if Dean hadn't moved to his front and pushed him straight.

"Move now Sammy." Dean instructed patiently.

Sam started moving his foot, whichever was left. He really couldn't tell. What he was well aware of was Dean stayed by his side, supporting him. But they barely left the bathroom when Sam's knees buckled under him, sending them both forward in a harsh crash.

"Sam?" Dean called out worriedly.

Sam pulled his knees to his torso as his body shivered hard. He hugged his middle tightly, bracing himself for whatever was coming. Clenching his teeth, Sam felt the first wave of spasms running over his body as his muscles started twitching and his back arched. When it finally came in full force, Sam couldn't do anything but let nature ran its course.

"Sammy…"Dean called out desperately as he watched Sam convulse. Sam looked so small and so fragile, making Dean want to cry for him. But crying wouldn't help, not at all. So Dean lay down on the floor behind Sam. Snuggling closer to his brother's back, Dean's arms snaked around Sam's middle and hugged his brother tight. He buried his face on Sam's scorching back and hoped the gesture would help.

"Deannie?" Sam whimpered when the spasms finally subsided.

"I'm here," Dean whispered back. "I'm here little brother."

………………………………

Flipping off his cell, Dean threw a glance at little Sammy – now sleeping peacefully on the bed. He sighed deeply. That was another disturbing call from young Dean. Sam was totally out after suffering a wave of seizures and was becoming hypothermic.

Sammy was given a dose of pain medication a little while ago – calming him and making him sleep. He thought when Sammy's pain subsided, so would Sam's. But he was damn wrong. It just didn't work that way. The pain lingered in Sam and little Dean was having a hard time taking care of him at the motel. It took Dean a lot of determination to stay with Sammy when all he wanted to do was going back to his Sam. He couldn't let Sam suffer alone but he couldn't abandon Sammy either.

But his little self was with Sam and Dean couldn't think of anyone better to look after his little brother in his stead.

Dean hovered over Sammy's bed and reached out a hand to caress his baby brother's head. His lips curled into a thin smile as Sammy leant into the touch, nestling closer to him. Resting his head on one folded arm, Dean smoothed the rumples on Sammy's cover with the mother-like gentleness that Sam always teased him about – when he was sick of course because that was the only time Dean would be gentle with him.

"Am I interrupting?"

Dean bolted up to his feet and was greeted by a much familiar smile that he thought he would never see again. "Steve?"

"Hi Dean," Dean could see sympathy behind those gray eyes and he sighed tiredly. Finally there was one with a soul intact.

"So, you're the doc huh?" Dean shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

Steve shrugged. "I'm sorry that our second meeting happened to be here among all of other places in the world." He went to Sammy's bedside and put a palm on Sammy's forehead – one thumb caressing the little one's brow. "Was he the only one?"

Dean wished he could say no but he answered "Yeah," instead. "It happened after you left."

"No, it happened before that…the tests show that your little boy was infected earlier than that." Raking his wavy auburn hair, Steve sighed. "Where have you been before you came to the playground?"

"The shopping mart," Dean answered plainly. "Are you saying Sammy's infected by the flu?"

"Yeah…so far your son's blood was diagnosed as having the same bug as those found in the blood of the infected kids." Steve shoved a thermometer into Sammy's ear and waited until it beeped. 101. At least the numbers decreased, a good sign of the kid healing. "The outbreak was really annoying dude…it causes people to freak out, children getting sick and denied of their playtime."

"But I heard they were discharged only after two days at the hospital."

"Some of them only hours after the treatment," Steve corrected.

"That should be good news right?" Dean crossed his arms. Something in Steve's voice sounded wrong.

"Yeah," Steve smiled tightly. "But there's something weird about the flu…the bug that we found in the blood sample disappeared completely before it was treated…that was just not normal."

Dean didn't need to be a doctor to understand that. A bug never vanished just like that from a blood sample unless the sample was treated with the proper medication. Putting it in his mental list of things to research, Dean studied Steve's face. The young pediatrician's face was displaying sheer concern.

"But maybe I overreacted a bit." Steve scoffed but still there was that nagging feeling at the pit of Dean's stomach. "So, his name's Sammy huh?"

Dean looked at Sammy and nodded with a smile.

"Hey! That was odd…your brother's name's Sam right? Sammy…Sam," Steve was making his own deduction. "Is Sam Sammy's godfather?"

Silence was bliss and Dean was practicing it now. One slight mistake and Steve would have sensed it. And if that ever happened, how could he explain it to him when Dean himself was clueless of everything?

"Haven't seen your wife around." Steve looked around, looking for the said person.

"Wife? Uh…she ran away…with another guy." Dean couldn't think of anything better. If he'd said his 'wife' died of cancer or anything, they might conduct more tests on Sammy to check whether he inherited any sickness from his 'mother'.

Steve frowned. "Now…with a hubby who looks like Jensen Ackles?"

"Jensen who?" Dean was lost.

Waving his hand dismissively, Steve shrugged "Forget it…I just thought any women should consider themselves lucky to have you as a husband and to leave you for another man..." Steve grinned. "That man must be one hell of good lookin' guy."

"Dude…" Steve's comments were getting on Dean's nerves. "Sorry about this man but you're freaking me out."

Steve chuckled as he checked Sammy's heartbeat. "Being a pediatrician means you get to hang around a lot with the moms and to gossip with them," he winked. "Sometimes you just got too included."

"Yeah…"Dean smiled. Steve was a good guy, he could tell.

"Okay…seems like everything's fine." Steve had finished checking Sammy and was satisfied with the end result. "You can take him home tomorrow but tonight just let him stay here…"

Dean nodded his thanks.

Steve walked to the door. "Guess I'll be seeing you again tomorrow," he offered Dean a smile and headed away, leaving the two brothers alone.

"You hear that kiddo…you're going to be okay." Dean sat down on Sammy's bedside and gripped his little brother's hand tenderly, careful not to mess with the IV canula. He smiled contentedly when Sammy returned his grasp, a weak one but that was enough to tell him everything was going to be okay.

"Please be okay too Sam" he whispered.

Dean lay down next to Sammy and wrapped his arm protectively around the little one, sighing with relief when his little brother snuggled in closer towards him. As Sammy started sucking his thumb, Dean couldn't help but laughing a little. Brushing the brown locks from Sammy's forehead, he placeda kiss and whispered…

"Big brother gotcha."

TBC

a/n: This chapter here is for all Sam's girl out there. For Dean's girl, his turn will come (well, more daddy Dean ahead) Again, thanks for the support and for reading, reviewing, and putting this one in your alert and favorite lists. Love you all!!