Summary: Sam's on bed rest for two weeks. Dean has to make sure he sticks to the definition of bed rest in order to avoid jump starting the unstable internal injuries waiting to be jarred inside his brother. Not to mention they've still got a Prophet of the Lord recovering as well.

Warnings: Mild language. More brotherly fluff than should be legal

Author's Note: Kevin will be a main cast member in this story, just not as big as Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Yes, Castiel is coming, just not quite yet. Enjoy and please review :)

Bed Rest

"How'd you sleep?" Dean asked as he turned around and noticed Sam was awake and rubbing his eyes.

"Alright, I guess," Sam said, moving around so he was sitting up. "Woke up a couple times with my back or stomach hurting a little."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Dean said, turning away from the wall that separated his room from Sam's.

"You needed to sleep too," Sam said. "It wasn't bad, just a little aching, and it was only for a few minutes. I think it's just from being stuck in bed for days."

"Still got another ten days, Sammy, get used to it," Dean said and touched his phone screen when an alarm began to go off.

"Can I at least go to the library or living room sometimes?" Sam said. "I cannot stare at these walls for another ten days."

"That's because you've got nothing on them. You gotta decorate, make it your place," Dean said, trying to subtly push Sam into admitting things he wanted in his room.

Sam shrugged. "It's fine like this. It's just a room. I only use it to sleep so it doesn't matter much."

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Help me not smack my injured little brother. "Sam, it's your bedroom. You gotta make it comfortable, somewhere you want to be."

"Dean, leave it," Sam said, shutting the topic down for the moment.

Dean sighed. "Fine. We'll see about getting you to the library tomorrow. It's closer."

Sam nodded but didn't respond except to ask, "What are you doing?" He gestured to the tape measure in Dean's hand.

"Measuring the wall," Dean said simply. "Have to know the size doors I gotta get."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"I'm knocking this wall down and putting in a door," Dean said.

"You were serious about that?" Sam said in surprise, vaguely remembering Dean suggesting they joined their rooms with sliding doors.

"Course I was serious," Dean said. "We'll still have our own rooms but can get to each other faster and can hear if something's wrong."

Sam still looked at him in surprise. Dean had always wanted his own room, Sam knew that. The way Dean had reacted when he chose his room had said as much. Yet Dean was joining their rooms. Sure there would be a door separating them but they would essentially be back to sharing a room. Why?

"Separate rooms are overrated," Dean said, shaking out some of Sam's pills. "Med time. Morning med time anyways."

Sam watched his brother and smiled slightly. He knew the reason for removing the wall. Dean would forever take care of his little brother.

"What time is it?" he asked instead of commenting and bringing about a chick flick moment that would make Dean scoff.

"Nine," Dean said, dropping the various pills in Sam's hand. "Aside from the fact you apparently woke up, you slept about ten and a half hours."

"Still not a normal sleep pattern then," Sam said, swallowing his pills.

"Right now I don't care. You're sleeping, that's all I want," Dean said. "You've got a lot to catch up on. We'll work on a pattern later, after you're better and not on bed rest."

"I'm fine now," Sam argued.

"You are not," Dean said and Sam glared. "Humour me?"

"No," Sam said. "I have no energy to argue, though, so fine. For now."

Dean smirked smugly and Sam rolled his eyes. "Hungry?" he said.

"Not really."

"No choice."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Thought you might answer correctly but you failed."

"Must you be irritating?" Sam said and Dean grinned.

"Of course. I'm the big brother. It's part of the job description as you know perfectly well," Dean said.

Sam huffed. "I think you use that to justify far too many things. I'm pretty sure being a big brother does not explain or exempt you from as many things as you say it does."

"That's because no one else knows how to do it properly," Dean said casually, going to the doorway to look into the hall for Kevin.

Sam stared at Dean's back, the words echoing in his head and making his expression soften into a small smile. He doubted Dean really knew what he had said but Sam knew and it created a warm glow inside, not for him—not completely—but for his big brother. Growing up in a nomadic lifestyle meant they had seen probably every type of person and family in existence. Sam could recall the hundreds of sets of brothers he had encountered in all his schools and places of residence. Most siblings pretended the other didn't exist if they attended the same school, fought constantly (not that he and Dean didn't), and generally did not seem to want to acknowledge their siblings.

He remembered at one of his elementary schools, he had made friends with another boy who also had an older brother that was the same age as Dean. At lunch time, Sam had spotted Dean in the lunchroom with another older boy and Dean had grinned and immediately gone to join Sam. The other boy turned out to be the older brother of Sam's friend and, while Dean sat next to Sam, the other boy sneered.

"What are you doing with these dorks, Dean?"

Dean's face had hardened as he looked at the boy. "Sam's my brother."

"I'm his brother!" Sam's friend had said, pointing to Dean's friend.

Dean's friend had glared at his little brother. "No, you know the rules. While on school property and in public places that are not our house, we do not know each other. Remember?"

Sam's friend had sighed and nodded, looking a little upset but mostly accepting. Sam remembered frowning and looking at Dean who was also frowning while scowling at his friend.

"Come on, Dean. Don't you get enough of your brother at home? Why do you want to spend any more time than you absolutely have to with him, especially at school when you've got your friends?"

Dean's jaw clenched. "I happen to like my brother. I happen to enjoy that he exists. I happen to like spending time with him, at home and at school and everywhere else. I think I should be asking why you would want to miss any time with your brother."

The other boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. Do what you want with the loser."

And then the kid was on the floor with a bloody nose. Dean was calmly sitting back down beside Sam and drawing them into the world they always went in that existed of just the two of them.

Sam had never met another set of brothers or siblings in general that seemed to genuinely care about each other and want to spend time together. Sure there were some who liked each other, maybe nodded to each other in the hallway or said a few words here and there, but it was nothing like what he and Dean had.

He had never seen another older sibling ditch a math test in grade ten to crash his little brother's gym class where they were playing basketball to make his little brother laugh and forget he was truthfully too short for the sport. He had never seen another older sibling hover outside his little brother's classroom giving him silent support as his little brother nervously completed his first ever high school exam. He had never seen another older sibling sit in the mud puddle his little brother had been shoved into (after decking the ones who did it) just to make his little brother laugh and forget his embarrassment and tears. He had never seen another older sibling shave off one spot of hair on the side of his head to match his little brother's after his little brother had to get it shaved to get minor head surgery.

He had never seen another Dean.

Because there was only one Dean and he belonged to Sam.

"You always did enjoy ignoring me, Sammy."

Sam shook himself and looked up at Dean who was standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in amusement. He smiled at his big brother cockily.

"You make it so easy," Sam said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The insults that were terms of endearment had returned to them easily and both relished in the recovered aspect of their once so broken relationship. They knew they were far from okay in probably every sense of the word since there were still so many things they had to fully address and sort out. However, they also knew they had to take time to heal and settle into a different life, or different stage in their life, while also reconnecting. Their plan to go back to basics still had to be discussed at length but it would appear that the plan would also allow for their nearly destroyed brotherhood to heal as well.

"So Kevin's sleeping," Dean said. "Still or again, not sure which. I'll get him up later so he can actually eat something today. As for us, you are awake which means it's time to eat."

Sam sighed. "I'm still not hungry, you know."

Dean imitated Sam's sigh. "You still don't have a choice, you know."

Sam gave one of his bitch faces which did nothing but make Dean laugh and realize how much he had missed being able to receive one of those looks and not take it to mean they were about to having a screaming match where horrible things were said.

"Fine," Sam said, resigning himself to having to eat if just to make Dean happy. "What's for breakfast?"

"Porridge," Dean said and Sam pulled a face. "Slowly reintroduce solids, Sammy."

"I know but you know I hate porridge," Sam said.

"You hate the porridge I was forced to make in crappy motel rooms or abandoned houses," Dean said. "You have yet to have proper porridge."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "'Proper porridge'?" he repeated.

Dean nodded. "With substance and flavour and everything."

Sam chuckled. "I'm wondering if I should trust your cooking skills."

"Hey!" Dean said, pretending to be offended. "I've been feeding you your whole life and you're still alive."

"That's because it would've been the food itself that poisoned me, not you."

"Yet neither ever happened," Dean said smugly.

Sam had to concede that point. "Alright, fine. I'll have this wonderful porridge you seem to have hidden away. If I get poisoned, it's on you."

Dean grinned. "Deal. Wait here."

Sam watched Dean leave the room with a condescending expression. "Where am I going to go?" he said deadpanned.

Dean frowned as he opened the fridge and cupboards to find all nearly empty. He needed to make a run to the store and stock up on food, but he refused to leave Sam. It had only been five days since they had been home which meant Sam had five more days of bed rest. Sam was, naturally, getting extremely restless and frustrated from being trapped in bed and from still being so ill and weak.

They had had a scare the day before when Sam suddenly spiked a fever of 102 and threw up, blood staining what he expelled. Dean had also had a heart attack their second night back in the bunker when he woke up and found he couldn't hear Sam breathing. Turning on the light had shown Sam to be pale, his lips blue, and his chest unmoving. Panicking, he had immediately begun CPR despite knowing he should've called 911. After a few agonizing moments, Sam had finally drawn a shuddering breath. Dean hadn't slept the rest of the night nor had his hand left its place on Sam's chest.

Dean knew he shouldn't have expected Sam to be better the moment they returned home and he hadn't, not really. He had been hopelessly optimistic that he wouldn't have to suffer through watching Sam possibly die again. Apparently, that was not to be and he wondered just how bad things would get again before Sam would finally start healing for good.

Sam was sleeping now after a rough night of nightmare after nightmare. He had sweated, shook, and cried through the night, never letting Dean out of touching distance. He had gotten clingy but Dean had said nothing. He was pretty sure Sam was allowed to be clingy. He was throwing away the no chick flick rule for the foreseeable future anyways.

He paused in his inspection of the empty cupboards and listened. For a couple of minutes there was nothing but then he heard a muffled shuffling and a quiet thump.

"Sam, if you are an inch out of that bed, injured and sick or not, I will knock you out and tie you to the bed!" Dean called out and then waited, listening hard. He smirked when he heard a mutter that he couldn't make out and then the squeak of Sam's bed springs. "That's what I thought!"

He shook his head and closed the cupboard, turning to lean his back against the counter. He crossed his arms and contemplated the situation. They needed food badly if just because Sam could not miss a single meal.

Speaking of which, it's almost time for supper, Dean said, glancing at the digital clock on the stove.

So they needed food but there was no way in hell he was leaving Sam. There was Kevin but he wasn't sure it was a good idea to send the kid out alone. No matter the plan, Kevin was still the Prophet of the Lord and was on everyone's hit list the way the Winchesters were. They had no idea what had happened to Crowley after being left behind in the church but he was surely still after Kevin. Abaddon would be after Kevin as well if just for the hell of it, to be able to say she had killed the Prophet and friend of the Winchester brothers. The Angels, well, he wasn't sure about them.

He tapped his fingers against his bicep and bit his lip.

"Send Kevin to the damn store!"

Dean huffed at Sam's yell, ignoring how it still sounded so weak. Even with all their issues, even with everything that had come between them over the last several years, they still knew each other well enough that they didn't have to even be in the same room to know what the other was brooding about. Not that he was brooding. He was...contemplating, analyzing the situation.

He was just considering the possibility of calling Charlie or Garth to see how close they were when Kevin wandered out of his bedroom. He was finally looking better after being able to properly sleep and eating normal, nutritional meals. Since he had just woken up after another twelve hour sleep, his hair was a disaster, his eyes were half closed, there were still little circles under his eyes, and his feet were shuffling.

Right, and Sam wanted to send this kid shopping?

"Mornin'," Kevin muttered, heading directly for the coffee machine.

Dean raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a grin. "It's five-thirty in the evening, Kev."

Kevin blinked at him, his expression blank and uncomprehending for some time before he sniffed and shrugged.

"Mornin' t'me," he said and proceeded to fill a coffee cup with hot black coffee.

Dean watched as he drained the steaming liquid, not seeming to even burn his mouth at all, and then pour another cup that he then sipped at.

"How's Sam?" Kevin asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Could be better, could be worse," Dean said vaguely. It wasn't Sam's best day but it wasn't his worst yet either.

Kevin nodded, draining another mouthful of coffee.

Dean stared at him, silently musing over whether they were desperate enough for food to send Kevin out on his own. Kevin shifted uncomfortably under the stare, his eyes flickering between Dean and his coffee. After a long few minutes of this, Kevin finally gave in.

"What?" he said. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Would you feel up to doing something for me?" Dean said.

"Is it going to make me collapse into an exhausted heap?" Kevin said and Dean snorted.

"It shouldn't. If it does there's something wrong with you," Dean said and Kevin shrugged one shoulder, taking another drink.

"I'm friends with you and Sam and am pretty much voluntarily living with you. There's something wrong with all of us," Kevin said. "The Prophet says to the vessels of Archangels and legacies of the Men of Letters."

Dean chuckled at the absurdity of Kevin's words. "Yeah, yeah, our lives are a freak show. You get used to it."

"Two years, dude," Kevin said. "I think I'm used to it."

Dean laughed again.

"So what do you need?" Kevin asked, bringing them back on track.

"We're out of food," Dean said bluntly and Kevin's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"I noticed."

"Do you think you can handle going to the store?" Dean said. "I would but..."

"I know, Sam," Kevin said and swallowed the last drink of his coffee. "Yeah, I'll go. Anything specific?"

"Not really. Stuff Sam can handle. He's still being eased back onto solid food," Dean said.

"You make it sound like he's a baby eating solid food for the first time."

"I heard that! If I could I would punch you, Kevin!"

Dean and Kevin laughed. Dean pulled out his wallet and handed the few twenties he had to Kevin.

"Go nuts, Kev," Dean said and Kevin waved as he walked up the stairs and disappeared out the door.

Once he heard the door's lock bolt shut, Dean left the kitchen to check on Sam. The kid should really be sleeping and not yelling throughout the bunker when he could hardly breathe on a good day. He stopped in the doorway of Sam's room when he saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently attempting to get to his feet. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, deciding to see how far Sam would go.

It was clear that just moving to the edge of the bed had stolen most of Sam's limited energy as he sat there with his head down and his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. Eventually he put his palms on the bed on either side of him and tried to push himself up. It took much longer than it should've and a lot more work than it should've, but he was eventually standing albeit extremely shakily.

"Hey, Sammy."

He winced as Sam spun around, causing his legs to give out and send him crashing to the floor. Sam groaned as his still sore and weakened body hit the stone floor. Shaking his head, Dean walked over to his little brother and stared down at him.

"You know, I should leave you here," Dean said.

Sam stared up at Dean, purposely intensifying the puppy dog eyes that had come out. "But you won't, right?"

Dean's eyes narrowed and then rolled up to the ceiling. "Such a bitch," he muttered and walked over to his little brother who grinned at him. He knelt down and started to move Sam around so he could get a careful but firm grip on his brother. Sam's arm jerked in his grip but he ignored it. Sam continued to have the occasional tremor ever since he stopped the third trial. They had happened often in the hospital and the doctor had said they would eventually stop.

Sam's arm jerked again...and then again...and again. Then Sam's entire body went rigid before violently convulsing.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, nearly dropping Sam back to the floor as his brother's convulsions made it impossible to hold on. He stared at Sam in horror as the seizure continued and he did the best he could to make it more bearable. He turned Sam onto his side and changed position, moving up to Sam's head to let it rest in lap. He held Sam's head still and leaned over to use his other arm to hold Sam's torso a bit more stable.

He ducked his head down so he could whisper reassurances to Sam even though he didn't know if his brother could hear him. Sam continued to shake and jerk, and when Dean spotted the blood coming from both Sam's nose and the corner of his mouth he started to really panic.

"Sam!" he yelled, clenching his jaw as the seizure showed no signs of easing. "Come on, Sammy, don't do this! Sammy!"

He worried about the strain the seizure was putting on Sam's weakened heart and lungs and...hell, everything. He was cursing the doctor who hadn't said a thing about Sam having seizures.

And then it stopped. Sam's body fell limp and his chest jumped with hard, sporadic breaths. Tears had fallen during the seizure and were completing their trek down his cheeks, leaving behind damp lines. He was covered in sweat and his eyes remained closed with exhaustion.

Dean stayed silent as he held Sam and tried to move past what they had just gone through. He was going to kill that doctor. The minute he was able to leave Sam alone without worry—well, without more worry than normal—he was going to go back to Stull and kill that doctor. How could he not mention even the slightest possibility of Sam having seizures, even just one?

He let his eyes close for a few moments and lowered his head further to let his forehead rest against the side of Sam's. His hand rubbed Sam's arm and the fingers of his other twined in his little brother's long hair. He took the time to calm his own breathing while listening to Sam's.

He had no idea how long they had been on the floor but his legs were going numb and his back was aching by the time he straightened up. Sam was still and his eyes still shut, but his breathing had evened out at some point and was no longer gasping pants.

"Sammy?" he said quietly and couldn't stop his small smile when Sam's head immediately twitched in the direction of his voice. He ran his hand through his brother's hair. "Can you move?"

Sam's hand, which had somehow found its way onto Dean's leg, flexed, his fingers catching in Dean's jeans.

"Come on, Sammy, we can't stay on the floor."

Sam groaned and was anything but helpful as Dean struggled to pull Sam up and onto the bed. Dean let out a breath as he finally got his not so little brother settled on the bed.

"I still don't understand how this happened," Dean said, waving his hand over Sam's body even though Sam's eyes weren't open to see. "We had a crappy diet so how the hell did you get so goddamn tall and heavy?"

Shaking his head, he worked to get Sam underneath the covers, leaving the blanket down at his waist so he could change his brother's sleep shirt. In a clean, dry shirt, he pulled the blankets up to Sam's chin and, though he would forever deny it, tucked the sheets around his brother.

He gazed down at his baby brother, brushing back the damp, shaggy hair. How long would they have to do this? Was he deluding himself into thinking Sam would get better? There really hadn't been any signs that Sam was any better than before they had left the hospital. But Sam had to get better, it was Sam. Dean had lived without his little brother once; he refused to do it again.

"Think you'll finally listen to me and stop trying to get out of bed?" Dean said absently, not really expecting an answer but got one regardless.

"No," Sam mumbled and Dean laughed lightly.

"Go to sleep," Dean said. "We'll talk later. It's fine if you're a little late taking your meds tonight. You're doing better."

"Am I?" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, you are," Dean said, realizing he believed it. "It's not obvious and it's taking a long time, but you'll be better one day. Promise."

"Okay." In his exhausted state with lingering fear from the seizure, Sam was content to just accept whatever Dean was saying as true. He relaxed into the mattress (that Dean swore he was going to replace) and pillows, and let himself drift off, safe in the knowledge that his big brother was there.

Sam slowly woke up to the sound of Dean yelling, or at least talking loudly and angrily. He blinked away the remaining sleep and looked around for his brother. His room was empty and the door nearly shut. Through the crack he saw his brother walk by and then walk by again the other way. Still feeling exhausted, Sam just lay in his bed with his eyes halfway between open and closed and listened to his brother.

"How could you not say anything? No! No, you didn't tell us...I don't care! You remember he almost died, right? A seizure! He had a freakin' seizure which we weren't prepared for because you didn't tell us he could have one! Why the hell wouldn't you mention seizures? Not once did the word even think of coming out of your mouth! You said he was fine to come home but to monitor strain on his heart and lungs and things, yet he didn't know to watch for that strain coming from a goddamn seizure! Yeah, that's what I thought! Anything else you conveniently forgot to tell me about my brother?! There better not be or I swear I'm coming after you!"

There was a small, quiet beep to indicate Dean had hung up his phone. Sam moved his head just enough to be able to see the door as it opened to admit Dean.

"Hey, you're awake," Dean said, going to the bedside table to gather the next round of medication. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Sam said. "Really tired. Body's sore too."

"I bet. Seizure was pretty bad," Dean said, his face tight at the memory.

"Don't really remember," Sam said, just giving his brother a tired look when Dean held out the handful of pills.

"Have to take them, Sam," Dean said. "I let you off last night but you have to take them now."

"Don't wanna move," Sam said, clutching onto the pillow beneath his head.

Dean chuckled, placing the pills on the table so he could help his brother. "I know. Just for a little bit, kid, long enough for pills and food."

"Not hungry," Sam said, slowly moving around to try and sit up.

"You can say that every time, I'm still making you eat," Dean said, pulling Sam up and then arranging the pillows so Sam could be reclining. "Kevin got food so you can have more than porridge today."

"Something solid?" Sam said, reaching out for the pills and glass of water that forever remained next to his bed.

"Porridge is solid," Dean protested.

"Hardly."

"Hey, you haven't actually complained about my porridge so shut up," Dean said and Sam smiled. He downed the pills, noticing there was a pill to relieve him of pain for a few hours. "How about scrambled eggs and try some toast?"

Sam sighed. "Sure, I'll take it."

"Not that you have a choice."

"Not that I have a choice," Sam repeated and Dean chuckled.

"Gonna fall asleep on me if I leave you here while I make food?"

"Are you giving me the choice of leaving this room?"

Dean scoffed. "Who are you kidding?" Sam rolled his eyes even though he had to admit he was far too tired to try get out of bed. "No, just wondering if I should get Kevin in here to irritate you."

"Kevin doesn't irritate me," Sam said.

"He might now," Dean said. "We thought he was crazy while working on the tablets? Turns out he's crazier not working on the tablets. Mind has too much time to wander."

Sam laughed and then proceeded to cough harshly, the strain making his already sore chest pound and ache. Hands were on his chest and back and he tried to take breaths to calm down. It took some time but soon the coughing stopped and he collapsed back on his pillows. He let his eyes focus on Dean when a light palm landed on his face, the fingers buried in his long hair.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Still catching his breath, Sam reached out and touched Dean's knee to let his brother know he was fine or as fine as he usually was these days given the circumstances. Dean's hand fell to cover his and squeezed lightly, making Sam's lips twitch into a small smile.

Without sounding incestuous and creepy, the two of them—mostly Dean—had become much more physical since the end of the trials. Dean was tactile with him, always finding some reason to initiate contact. He had found it strange at first and the oddness still crossed his mind sometimes since Dean had never been an emotional or physical person. However, Sam thought he understood now. What had happened between them in the church was the closest and most honest they had been with each other in years. They were brothers again, brothers that just wanted to make each other proud and get back their once close relationship that had rendered them nearly inseparable all their life.

They had also come to realize that, despite everything, they still trusted each other. Dean trusted Sam to...be Sam. He trusted Sam to be able to take care of himself, trusted Sam to back him up, trusted Sam to be his little brother. He trusted Sam to be who he was and not the evil Antichrist or epic failure that the rest of the world, including their father, had always told him he was. He trusted Sam to trust in his brother. Sam trusted Dean and proved it by not finishing the third trial despite being prepared to die if it meant they could close the gates of Hell. He trusted Dean to want him alive even if it meant the world ended. He trusted that Dean did not believe he was evil. He trusted that Dean cared and loved him no matter what and he had nothing to prove to his big brother. He trusted Dean to raise him and take care of him despite being a thirty year old man. Three, thirty, or ninety-three, he would always need his big brother and he trusted that Dean knew that now.

They trusted each other to be brothers again.

"Sam, you good?"

Sam finally opened his eyes and looked at his clearly worried brother. "I'm good," he said with a smile. He tolerated it as his brother stared at him, visually examining him for anything that might indicate he was anything less than 'good'. Eventually Dean nodded and stepped back.

"I'm going to get Kevin in here so he can keep an eye on you—"

"Dude, I'm thirty."

"—and I'm going to make us all breakfast. Kevin hasn't eaten yet today either."

Sam rolled his eyes but nodded. He was still exhausted but he wasn't about to drop off to sleep at a moment's notice. He didn't get to say anything else as Dean left the room to retrieve Kevin.

"Oh, come on, man, do you know what time it is?" he heard Kevin say and he grinned.

"Kevin, it's eleven-thirty in the morning," Dean said. "It's time to get up."

"Thought you guys wanted me to get better."

"We do but it's time to get back on a regular sleep schedule."

"Sam's not on one yet."

"Sam almost died."

There was just muffled grumbling as a response and Sam chuckled, watching as Dean shoved a sleepy and irritated Kevin into his bedroom.

"Morning, Kevin," Sam said and Kevin just glared at him.

"Dean, he looks fine. Why am I here?"

"To keep him awake so he can eat before going back to sleep," Dean said.

"Dude, just bring him to the stupid kitchen and watch him yourself. He's your brother," Kevin snapped and Sam raised an eyebrow, sure he knew what was about to happen.

Dean stepped up to Kevin and glared down at him. Luckily, the kid had been involved with them for two years and pretty much living with them for a year so he was used to the way the Winchesters were. He knew of their tempers, their sarcasm, their potentially violent sides, and their protectiveness of each other. As such, in the face of Dean's imminent rant, Kevin just stared at him.

"Listen to me. Sam almost died. He had pretty much everything in his body fail and lost basically all of his blood. He spent three days fighting to just get out of the ICU. He then spent fifteen more days fighting to stay alive long enough to be able to go home. He has to be on bed rest for two weeks in order to try and prevent any of those organs from failing again or causing internal bleeding. He still has four days left. He just had a goddamn seizure, a seizure which we had no idea he could have. He is going to stay in bed until he is cleared to leave it. Because I happen to care if my brother stays alive or not, you are going to sit in here and keep him company while I make breakfast. Got it?"

"Yeah," Kevin said. "I got it."

"Good."

Dean glared at the Prophet again, glanced at Sam who just raised an eyebrow again, and then stomped from the room. Kevin watched him go and then gazed around the room before looking at Sam. He'd hardly seen the youngest Winchester despite the fact that he had just been down the hall for the past week and a half. Honestly, Sam looked like absolute hell. He really did look like he had almost died.

"You look awful," Kevin said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sam let out a laugh. "I can imagine. You're looking better at least."

"Could be better if I could sleep," Kevin muttered.

"It's not just about me, you know," Sam said and Kevin snorted. "He cares about you too. He wants you to get back to normal, well, as normal as you can get at this point. He's starting with proper food and sleep schedules. He will back off eventually."

"Yeah, when?" Kevin said with a pointed look.

"About thirty years," Sam said and Kevin huffed a laugh. "For you anyways."

"Yeah, there's no backing off in view for you," Kevin said and Sam shook his head, laughing.

"I've handled thirty years. I'm sure I can handle thirty more," Sam said.

The two sat and talked while they waited for Dean to return. Sam outlined the basic idea that he and Dean had for their lives, telling Kevin how they planned to just be hunters again and pull out of the Angel and Demon crap. He asked Kevin what his plans were since they refused to let him kill himself over the Angel and Demon tablets when they didn't need them anymore. Kevin admitted that he truly had no idea what he was going to and that he'd hardly thought about it. He'd been more focused on eating and sleeping again. Sam made sure to assure him that he had a home there in the bunker and didn't have to worry about ever leaving if he didn't want to. Kevin just smiled and muttered a 'thanks'.

They looked up when Dean returned carrying a tray of breakfast foods. He put the tray on Sam's lap and then took a bowl of porridge and thrust it at Kevin. Sam winced in sympathy. Porridge was the breakfast punishment. If you don't want porridge, don't piss Dean off. Kevin took it with a scowl. Dean's porridge was good but it wasn't bacon or eggs or pancakes or sausage. Dean took the third plate from the tray that had two pieces of toast, a pile of scrambled eggs, and two sausages, leaving Sam with the plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

Dean sat on the opposite side of the bed as Kevin and dug into his food, ignoring the way Sam stared at him and the way Kevin poked irritably at his porridge.

There was some tension in the air but Sam couldn't help but be amused at Kevin's annoyed expression and Dean's silence. It was like a parent and child fighting, the parent mad and the child brooding and pouting.

With a quiet snort and a grin he did nothing to hide, Sam started to slowly eat his own breakfast while watching the others, fighting not to laugh at each scowl Kevin sent Dean.

To Be Continued...