Dean never got sick. Ever. Ok, he did get the sniffles every now and then, his voice would get nasal and his nose runny, but he's still go about his business like he didn't look completely disgusting with all that snot on his upper lip. So when he first came down with a fever at 4 years old, the really strong kind, the could-end-in-seizure kind, Sam freaked.

Dad said it would be fine, Dean was strong and would get over it in the blink of an eye, Sam didn't care what Dad thought. He wasn't being a brat, not really, but how could he believe anything like that when Dean wasn't eating?

Dean wasn't eating.

Sometimes Dean would not speak, Dean could make a point of not listening, but he ate. He always ate. But now? Not even a cookie. This had to be a sign the kid was dying, how could dad not see that?

Clearly dad didn't see it, since he just got up and left, saying he had to do some digging around the library. Yeah. Even said it with a straight face, like he actually meant a research. Sam jutted out his chin and ignored him until he left.

He didn't know what was worse, dad leaving while Dean stared at his back with those too bright eyes, so obviously dying, or the fact that dad thought Sam didn't know what was really going on. Like Sam was just a kid.

"Dean… Eat something. Please?"

Like Sam forgot what happened to mom.

"Not hungry."

Like Sam didn't have to practice his shooting every freaking day.

"Even if I make you something special?"

Like Sam didn't have to salt all doors and windows to keep all that evil outside.

"Special?"

Like Sam's job wasn't to keep Dean alive. Even when he was so obviously dying with those too bright eyes and boiling skin and-

"Yeah, like magic."

Dean blinked owlishly twice before mumbling "Okay."

Sam worked his little heart out in the kitchen, put all the magic he could muster into that last tiny, ridiculous effort to keep his baby brother alive. It looked almost like the ones she used to make.

"Here." he breathed handing the plate.

Dean's eyes turned way too slowly, and Sam swallowed hard even as they managed to focus. "It's a sandwich." Dean stated dully.

"Yeah, buts it isn't just a sandwich. See? It has the crusts cut off, that's the magic. Mom always made them for me when I felt bad, said they'd make everything better."

Suddenly, saying those words didn't seem like a good idea and Sam felt absolutely stupid, sitting on the foot of his brother's death bed. There was no thing like magic. Sometimes there was just fire.

"Did it work?" Dean asked dubiously flicking the sandwich a glance, before looking at Sam again.

"Every time."

Dean ate.

xoo0oox

Sam realized he had to be dreaming, it was the only logical explanation.

Not the part that had Dean on it, that was actually pretty plausible since Sam had been secretly waiting for his family to show up every day since he got to Stanford.

He waited, and hoped they'd never show. It was for completely selfish reasons for he knew that when one of them showed, bad news would follow. Dean would come broken and bleeding, crying and retelling how their father got ripped to shreds before his eyes. Dad would call and say the words that had plagued Sam's nightmares for most of his life: 'Dean's gone.'

So all in all, Dean's visit hadn't been that bad, and after Sam got over himself, he admitted he missed the kid. Not out loud, of course, but still…

But this part right now? It had to be a dream, or else he was riding a bike in the middle of the night looking for his brother that had left in a freaking car and was probably a state away at least by now.

Jessica could be so fucking stubborn, she kept insisting Dean was still around and that she would find him even if she had to look all night. Instead, Sam was on a borrowed bike getting to that awful state where he was still cold even though he was beginning to sweat, because there was no way in hell he'd let Jess cruise in the empty streets in the dark.

Why did she think Dean was still around was a mystery, a dumb one, but for some unfathomable reason, Sam couldn't ignore her when she got like that. He'd been riding for about 15 minutes and decided it was enough, Dean was gone and it sucked that they parted acting like strangers around each other, but there was nothing he could do about now-

Crap.

The street light made the slick black Impala shine and even if it didn't, Sam would recognize it anywhere.

Crap.

There'd be no living with Jess after this…

Getting closer to it, Sam found his baby brother sleeping in the front seat, crumbled against the passenger door, his upper half covered with a jacket. It was such a familiar image that Sam froze in a nostalgic déjà vu for a moment, then started to bang on the roof of the car.

"Open the door, Dean!"

"Fuck off!" Sam wasn't even sure if Dean woke up for that.

"Come on, Dean… We gotta go."

Dean huffed and got up just enough to unlock the door and fell back to the same position, without opening his eyes. Sam got the keys and threw the bike in the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat, almost immediately, Dean's socked feet found their way to his lap.

"Guess you're still fourteen, then…" he whispered mostly to himself and started the car.

The drive was short, Jess had no idea how right she had been when she said Dean was still around… Crap.

It was only when they parked that Dean seemed to wake up for real.

"You're not gonna make me carry up upstairs, are you?" Sam asked with a smirk that only got wider when Dean's face contorted in disgust.

"Dear God, you're real…"

"Yeah, I'm real. Were you dreaming of me?" Sam laughed even as the foot left his lap and kicked him hard on the ribs.

Dean quickly slipped into his shoes and jacket before stepping out of the car and leaning back on the closed door.

"Why are we here, Sam?" he asked when his brother joined him, but kept looking up, to a lit up window.

"I live here."

"I don't."

"You shouldn't have to sleep in the car when you come to visit me."

That got a suspicious look. "Now I'm a visitor? Are you sure? Can't call the cops on visitors, Sam."

"And visitors come in through the door, not the window, as we'll be doing now, so I think it's ok."

Whatever comeback Dean had on the trigger was interrupted when Jess's voice rang down "Oh my GOD! Could you two just come up? I'm trying to eavesdrop and you're making it so hard!"

Dean snorted loudly but said nothing, just followed Sam upstairs.

Jessica's smile was bright enough to light up the whole room, even if Dean just walked by her into the living room without as much as a glance, and Sam felt himself frown when he looked at her.

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know?" he repeated, jutting his chin in Dean's direction.

He didn't think it was possible, but her smile actually got brighter. "I'm just awesome like that."

Jessica felt kind of creepy spying on the kid like that. Maybe it was because he wasn't really a kid; he was 18, and her boyfriend's younger brother, and obscenely hot, so that's why she had to think of him as a kid, it was just easier on her tender sensibilities.

So she watched the kid sleep, still feeling slightly creepy, but she just couldn't get over how adorable he looked with his hair pointing all over the place. And now that he was actually still, for the first time since he first walked through the door – or climbed up the window, whatever – she could see freckles dusted over his nose and had to bite her knuckles to keep from going 'Awww…' and waking him up

Picking up the blanket he managed to kick to the floor, Jessica wondered when exactly did Dean went from being a prick to became so disgustingly adorable.

Thinking back, the first time they met in the middle of the freaking night, with Sam looking all chagrined and a tad disheveled and Dean leaning back on the kitchen sink, smirking and drinking a beer he just stole from their fridge, he did look like an asshole.

But after, when Sam brought him back, sleepy and suspicious, something was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was a solemnity to his posture when he stood by the makeshift bed that was usually the sofa. If she didn't know him, she'd think he was embarrassed.

Then it hit her that she didn't know him at all. And so the blabbering began.

"So, Dean, you can sleep here, ok? I mean, is here ok with you? Because we can think of something else, but I'm pretty sure that couch is really comfy, I've spent entire nights there on finals week and slept like a baby with my face stuffed on a book. Yeah… You really don't wanna know about my studying habits do you? Of course not, you only wanna sleep, witch you should do if the couch is alright with you. Oh, man, look at me, yammering away and you must be thinking 'Sweet Jesus, this girl won't shut up!', so I'm gonna go to bed now to stop bothering you, and because we both need to sleep, right?"

"Hey Jess?" he called and Jessica almost thanked him for the help with shutting up, but instead, held her tongue and waited, if she hadn't, the tiny smile Dean was sending her way would probably go by unnoticed "Thanks."

His smile got bigger even as he cast his eyes downwards, so adorably shy.

It was right then and there that Jessica came to terms with the realization that if she didn't love Sam so damn much, she'd be jumping his brother right that second.

"You're welcome, kid." she said calmly, didn't even sound patronizing at all, and Dean's shy little smile mixed up with a 'what the fuck?' expression, she knew it had been the perfect thing to say.

A/N.: I was so overwhelmed by the awesome feedback I got on this! Thank you guys so much!

I know this chapter will probably be kind of lame, since nothing big happened, but we're getting there, I don't wanna rush it. And I'm slightly lazy. Sorry.

But seriously, I'm deeply grateful for each and everyone of you who took the time to review last chapter, so I'm gonna try my best to keep the story at least cute, ok? I'm so lame...