Siren's Song

Disclaimer: Same as other chapters, not mine, no money.

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Sam watched his brother doze off, then got to his feet. Dean would sleep for hours in the state he was in. He stretched and sat down on his bed after carefully prying the changer from Dean's loose grasp. There was no way in hell he was watching another rerun of American Gladiator if he had anything to say about it. Why would anyone even rerun that stupid show to start with? "For people like you." He said out loud, looking at his zonked out big brother. "I'm gonna go get some food and I'm gonna assume that you loved the soup I brought you and get you some more. Not that I expect you to answer me or anything like that." He put on his jean jacket and pulled the keys to Dean's precious Impala from the pocket. "You'd kill me if you knew I was keeping these." Dean made a gruff noise as a response. "I know how to get you to wake up. Not that I want you to wake up. Stay asleep, I'll be back." Sam walked through the door an hour later with the same type of take out boxes he'd had before.

Half an hour later, Sam set his box, which held a turkey sandwich and a baked potato, on the table and put his salad on top of it, then went to the bed across from Dean's and sat on the edge, staring at his brother, taking in the flushed cheeks and the paler than normal skin. How Dean always managed to look like complete crap whenever he was sick was beyond him. "Dean?" A gentle hand roused the man from his not so restful sleep, "Dean, you wanna wake up and eat some of this? It might help with the congestion."

"God, Sammy," the voice that answered was stuffy and much deeper than normal, "I was sleeping." Dean sniffled and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He snatched a handful of Kleenexes and sneezed into them several times. "B-bad idea..." Dean blew his nose and touched his aching head. "I never knew sneezing could make your head explode."

"You learn something new every day," Sam replied, putting a healthy amount of dressing on his salad. "Seriously, are you gonna be up to this tomorrow?"

Dean nodded and sipped his hot soup. "Damn well have to be, want to or not. These chicks aren't just gonna shrivel up and die on their own. That would take all the fun out of this job." He snorted softly. "Wonder if any ghost's ever done that. Got sick of haunting things, so it led the way to it's own salt and burn."

"Dean..." Sam's eyebrow raised incredulously, "you make even less sense when you're sick than when you aren't."

"Hey, I was just thinking..."

"Don't think, it'll make your head explode a lot sooner than sneezing will. eat your soup and do something useful, like go to sleep again."

"You're the one that woke me up, Sammy-boy, you get to listen to me and my feverish rantings." A teasing smile played on his lips. "It'll serve as a reminder as to why you never wake me up when I feel like crap."

"Next time I'll let your soup get cold then." He made a face. "I have to say, those people do greasy and bad for you a lot better than they do health food. I swear this lettuce has been in the fridge for about a month." He sighed and tossed the salad into the trash can. "I should have gone with what I knew." Sam picked up the sandwich and bit into it after he'd pulled off all the wilting vegetables.

"Wrong time of year for them?" Dean set his half finished soup on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to his ears. "God, when did it get cold in here?"

"It's not... you just ate hot soup, how can you be cold?" Sam set down his food and was at his brother's side, resting a large hand on his forehead. "You're warm. We should call this..."

"We aren't calling anything off, Sam. Dad would have a fit if we left a job undone like this. People are dying and I'm not going to let something like a head cold stop me from stopping it."

"What Dad doesn't know won't kill him." Sam thought to himself, but chose not to voice his opinion out loud right then. Instead he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Dean rested against the headboard of the bed and blew his nose loudly, then reached for the computer print outs that Sam had thought were important. "Do we need to go there at a certain time or anything? Ten's okay, right?"

Sam nodded and shoved the rest of his food into the trash. "Turkey tasted funny and the potato was underdone. Crappiest meal I never ate."

The comment raised a small smirk from his brother. "That was almost witty. Better watch it, Sammy, you might stat developing what they commonly call a sense of humor." Dean wiped his runny nose on a tissue in a pained way and watched his brother flop down on his own bed.

"There's a horror flick on TV, you wanna make fun of it?"

Dean's smirk grew wider. "Never thought you'd ask, Little Brother."

Dean fell asleep halfway through Jeepers Creepers, much as he didn't want to. Sam smiled and turned the volume down and finished the movie, laughing at the parts that were supposed to be scary. He sort of wished Dean had stayed awake through the whole thing, but at the same time, it was better that he was sleeping. Sam switched the channel to an older movie and eventually dozed off himself.

A few hours later, Sam jerked awake in a cold sweat. He sat up, his eyes large and shook his head to get the nightmare out. He looked over at Dean's bed and found it empty. A glance at the clock told him that it was 2:30 AM and a look out the window told him that it was raining... and his brother was an idiot, Sam wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. "Dean, what the hell are you doing out here? It's raining and cold."

Dean didn't look at him. "I'm thinking about stuff."

"Stuff? Dean, we have a long day ahead of us, I think you need to be at the top of your game."

Dean frowned and looked at Sam at last. "I don't need to be at the top of my game. Actually, I think I should be pretty much at the bottom of it. I mean, you're more than likely gonna have to hold me back tomorrow, Kiddo, I'd sort of like to be as worn down as I can be, ya know?" He sniffled, sneezed twice and then turned around to lean on the railing, tilting his head back to catch the rain on his warm forehead.

Sam sighed and turned around to lean on the rail too. "Still, when it's all said and done, I'd rather not have saved your life just to have you die of pneumonia a couple weeks later."

That argument was given all the respect it deserved, a snort, which turned into a coughing fit. If Sam had to guess, he'd swear the fit was more than a minute long. Sam patted his brother's back with a firm but gentle hand. "Yeah, because this is healthy. You're coming inside now." He took Dean's arm, slightly worried about the fact that it wasn't jerked from his grip, and led him into the room. "Lie down, I'm gonna take your temp again."

Dean sighed, but didn't protest. Frankly, he felt pretty bad. His head ached and his sinuses hurt, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit that to Sam. It was bad enough that he'd let him get all touchy feely outside. Another cough shot though his chest, although it didn't last as long or hurt as bad. Sam returned with the thermometer and held it out to him. "It's not gonna be accurate."

Sam frowned. "Why's that?" He sat down gingerly on the side of the bed, as if he was bracing himself to be pushed off. It would have happened too, had Dean felt up to it.

"I mean," Dean spoke slowly and stretched his eyes wide, as though he was talking to a child, "I'm having a hard time breathing through my nose."

"We can take it the baby way." Sam crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Get the hell away from me!" Sam received the shove he'd been expecting, but fell off the bed anyway, mostly because he was laughing too hard to care about bracing himself.

"Well, are you going to let me do it this way, then?" A smirk played on Sam's lips as Dean held out his hand for the thermometer.

The minute felt like a year, but the thermometer finally beeped, letting both brothers know that it was done. Sam took it and let out a slow whistle. "It's getting up there. I still think we should..."

"No way, we're doing it and doing it tomorrow. You know we have to." Dean held up a finger and sneezed into his hands a few times, then sniffled deeply. "It'll be easier this way anyway. I won't fight you when I feel like crap. Not as hard, anyway. What is it, just out of curiosity?" He reached for the tissue box and blew his nose.

Sam bit his lip. "102.3" His voice said that he didn't want to tell him.

"What? That's not that bad. The way you acted, I thought it was 104, at least. You're such a drama queen."

"I was not that dramatic. I just said we should call it off and let you get a little better before we go traipsing around on a lake. Lakes are cold, Dean."

"And it's your job to keep me out of it. Are you saying in advance that I can't trust you with this?" He gave Sam a hard look, only half teasing.

"You know that's not what I'm saying, but, well, anything can happen out there. Besides, if you give in, the very last thing you'll have to worry about is gonna be a cold."

"So let me live to worry about a cold, okay. The longer we wait, the worse it'll be."

Sam sighed and finally nodded. "But if you hit me, I'm hitting you back, remember that."

Dean laughed in a congested way, then coughed. "Deal, now go try to get some sleep. I do need you at the top of your game, okay."

Sam nodded and climbed into his bed. "Don't stay up too late, okay."

"Yeah Dad, I'll remember that." He pulled out a car magazine and sighed, wishing he'd thought to grab something more, er, entertaining.