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Chapter 13- The Flu

Sam unlocked the door to their room, but Dean didn't wait for him to open it as he pushed past his younger brother. Dean was careful to avoid hitting Naomi with the door as he leaned into it, causing it to swing open. Sam followed silently behind.

Naomi mumbled incoherently in Dean's arms as he paused to get a better grip on her. The sweat soaking through her clothes was causing her body to slip against his leather jacket, making holding her a struggle. He began to set her down on the bed when Sam called out from the bathroom, "Bring her in here."

Dean heard the sound of bath water running as he carried Naomi into the bathroom. Sam had his hand under the stream as he said to the faucet, "Put her in."

Dean looked down at the bathtub. "In her clothes?"

Sam turned to his brother, his eyes set and emotionless. He said flatly, "Her body needs to cool down quickly or it will overheat."

Dean nodded slowly, wary of Sam's sudden dryness, and gently placed her in the water. While he shivered as the cold water met his skin, Naomi hardly flinched. Dean noticed and looked to Sam worriedly, waiting for the next instruction.

Sam stared down at Naomi. "Go get some ice from the ice machine down the hall. The water needs to be colder."

Dean strode out of the room without a second glance. As he marched down the hallway, he noticed how fast his heart was beating. He didn't know if it was from carrying Naomi or from seeing her drop to the floor back at the house. He almost passed the machine, distracted by the image of her body crumpled on the dirty floor.

He yanked out his wallet and shucked out a few dollars, cramming them hurriedly into the machine. He shifted his weight back and forth, swearing when the machine rejected the bills. She's lost her Glory. She's lost it and now she's going to...why did I take her to that friggin' house?

After a few more tries, the machine accepted the money and began pouring ice into plastic bags. Dean tied off the bags quickly, toting two in each hand down the hall. He passed a few tenants who gave him curious looks, but he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was lying in a bathtub down the hall.

He rushed through the door, nearly running into Sam, his brother's tall body filling the bathroom doorway. Dean paused, watching Sam stare down at Naomi, the pained expression he wore wrinkling his forehead. After a moment, Dean dodged by him and began dumping the bags into the water. Naomi stirred restlessly, a quiet whine escaping her lips.

Dean felt her forehead with the back of his hand. Her skin hadn't cooled much. Dean brushed away the hair from her face, leaving his hand resting against her cheek for a moment. He inspected her, letting his eyes roam across her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes shut. Her bottom lip puckered out, as if she were about to cry. Dean tried to swallow the feeling of helplessness that was pressing into his chest, but it didn't go away. He let his hand fall into the water as he turned to his brother. "What do we do, Sam?"

Sam continued to stare at Naomi as he worked his jaw, silence settling in between the brothers. Dean watched him, noticing how tired Sam looked. He sometimes forgot how hard the recent events had hit his little brother. He wanted Sam to look the same way he had that night, so long ago, at Stanford: happy.

After a minute, Sam whispered, "I can't do this." He turned and walked out of the room.

Dean was on his feet on an instant, charging after him. He grabbed Sam's shoulder and yanked his brother around to face him. Sam didn't put up a fight. Dean leaned in close to his brother's face and growled, "You are not going to leave her, do you hear me? I don't care what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to save. You are not going to leave her to-" He looked away for a moment, then met his brother's eyes again, the unspoken thought reflected in Sam's eyes. "You just aren't. Got that?"

Sam stared down at his brother, tears brimming in his eyes. He replied hoarsely, his hand turning the doorknob, "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean watched him leave and stared at the ajar door for a minute before suddenly swearing and kicking it closed. He paced the room angrily as he heard the Impala growl to life in the distance and drive off with his brother. When he felt like he might explode, he looked up at the ceiling, addressing the only person left he could get angry at. He screamed, "Is this it? Is this what it boils down to? Me and You?"

He paced as he gestured at the ceiling, "I have had enough of You sending people to do the talking for You! Let's do this, right here and now!" He pointed towards the bathroom. "She has done nothing but believe in You and this is how You're going to repay her? Let her lose her Glory and watch her…die?"

He kicked the dresser and ignored the pain emanating from his foot. He pointed up at the ceiling, his voice rising to a roar. "You may have her fooled, but not me! I see right through You! You're nothing but a coward!" He opened his arms in invitation. "If You're so high and mighty, prove it! Prove that You have a heart and let her live!"

His arms fell by his side as he breathed heavily, almost waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike him. Silence was the only reply. He settled on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. He whispered, "Please, just let her live. Please."

Dean didn't know how much time passed until he heard the stirring of water in the bathroom. He rose to check on Naomi and found her curled up in the bathtub, her lips blue. The water sloshed against the sides of the tub as she violently shivered in the water.

Dean rushed to her side, lifting her out of the tub in one motion. His heartbeat quickened as he stared at her eerily white face. As he made his way to her bed, he huffed, "Oh no. You aren't getting away that easy."

He lied her down, then quickly retrieved a dry towel to rub over her. He squeezed the water out of her hair, the part that had been submerged now dark auburn. He wrapped the towel around her as best he could and rubbed her shoulders, trying to get her warm. Her shivers shook the bed and her breath came out in shaky gasps.

Seeing it wasn't working fast enough, Dean searched the room for an answer. His eyes landed on one of Sam's flannels poking out of his bag. Dean stared down at Naomi for a moment, then yanked off his jacket. "All right. You need to get out of those clothes."

As he began to peel Naomi's clothes off of her, he half-heartedly joked, "We both know this is all an act to get me to take your clothes off." Naomi replied with her body jerking as a cold chill ran through her. He whispered, "You aren't fooling anybody."

Dean struggled with removing her clothes, trying to be gentle but quick. Under other circumstances, Dean would have admired the freckles scattered across Naomi's bare shoulders and how perfect he thought her feet were, but all that he focused on now was how her ghostly white skin clashed unnaturally against the black bra and underwear she wore. Her veins branched through her exposed body, the muted blue contrasting the white. She needs to get warm. Fast.

Dean was able to pull the flannel on her, but she still continued to shiver. Dean bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, weighing his next solution. After a moment, he climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her against him. He fought the shiver that tempted to shoot through his spine as her cold body met his.

Pulling the covers over them, he whispered into her hair, "C'mon, Naomi. You can fight this. Don't let them win this one."

Her shivering slowly began to stop, but Dean continued to hold her close. He could still smell the faint vanilla he had come to associate with her. He gently nestled his face in the crook of her neck, smiling as he inhaled the scent once more. He bent his head to move when his lips brushed her neck.

Dean knew the feel of a woman's skin all too well. He had had his share of women in bed with him over the years, however, for some reason, Naomi's felt different…better. Dean couldn't help but rest his lips against her shoulder, feeling the smoothness of her skin on his lips. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her body against his and the smell of vanilla surrounding the both of them.

Dean hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he had awoken to Naomi's body sticking to his. She was moaning feverishly, kicking the sheets off of them. He stood and stared down at her, lost on what to do next. He had done enough caretaking of Sam growing up to know that the flu was nasty without some anti-biotics, but he didn't dare leave Naomi alone to get some.

As he began to rush her back to the bathtub, he heard the door lock click open and the sound of the floor squeaking under boots. He froze as the door swung open slowly, revealing Sam leaning heavily against the doorway. By the way his hair was askew and his clothes wrinkled and bunched in different areas, Dean knew where his brother had gone. Dean glared up at his brother darkly. "Are you seriously drunk right now?"

Sam shrugged as he swayed into the room and shut the door behind him. "Yeah. So?"

Dean would have punched him then and there if Naomi hadn't been in his arms. He looked down at her, then back at Sam. He growled threateningly, "We're going to have words later."

He turned towards the bathroom again only to feel something smack him in the back of his head. He whirled around, finding Sam staring back at him, as if bored. He pointed at the floor. "I got those while I was out."

Dean looked down at the ground and saw a white, paper pharmacy bag. He met Sam's eyes as his brother hiccupped, "They should help."

Sam kicked off his shoes and flopped onto his bed as Dean laid Naomi down on hers. Sam watched sleepily as Dean propped Naomi's head up with a few pillows, then grabbed a bottled water out of the mini-fridge to help wash the liquid medicine down.

"C'mon, Naomi, work with me here," he begged. Naomi was fidgeting against the pillow, making Dean struggle to hold still long enough to pour the medicine into her mouth. Every time the cap full of medicine touched her lips, Naomi resisted, thrashing as she weakly fought Dean off.

After a few more failed attempts, Dean smacked the bottle of medicine down on the bedside table. He didn't want to hurt her, but he'd do what he'd have to do to keep her alive.

Sam giggled behind him, "Not working out so well, huh?"

Dean shot onto his feet and spun around to face his brother. He hissed, "I don't care how drunk you are, if you don't shut up, I'll knock you out. It'll hurt more than the hangover you're going to have tomorrow morning, I can guarantee."

Sam smiled nonchalantly up at Dean, hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is that you could sing to her."

Dean scoffed, "Sing? How wasted are you?"

Sam sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Yeah, sing. They're called lullabies for a reason. That's why moms sing them to babies." He shrugged dopily. "Not that I'd know or anything."

Dean felt a sharp pang of longing at the memory of their mother. He could remember her singing him to sleep after he'd have a bad dream. She'd always sing the same song, the tune untraditional. In fact, as Dean began to recall it, it was a sort of eerie, sad tune. The corner of his mouth turned up at the memory.

Sam smiled sadly at Dean. "You know though, huh?"

Dean met his brother's eyes for a moment before turning back to Naomi. He often forgot how Sam never got to meet their mother while she was alive. It made his few memories of her even more precious.

Dean awoke from his thoughts as a quiet moan escaped Naomi's lips. Dean replied, "I'm not Mother Goose, Sam. I don't know nursery rhymes." He looked at his brother over his shoulder, adding, "I don't remember Mom's song that well either."

Sam shrugged as he lied back down, his arms resting behind his head. "Sing AC/DC then."

Dean turned once more to his brother. "Out of all the stuff you could have picked, you went with-"

"She likes them, Dean. She was wearing one of their tour shirts the night we played cards."

Dean recalled the memory fuzzily, remembering more clearly her crystal blue eyes staring at him over her card hand. He replied, "Oh. Yeah."

He found himself squirming as he looked back at Naomi. This is stupid. She probably won't even hear me.

Sam urged, "Go on."

Dean struggled to think of a song, his mind suddenly going blank. Of course I can't remember a song now! AC/DC of all bands. A friggin' classic and I can't think of a single song!

Suddenly, he knew which song he would sing.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he began, "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean-"

Sam interrupted, "C'mon, Dean! Sing louder!"

Dean shot a glare at his brother before turning back to Naomi. He sang louder, but after another verse, Sam stopped him again.

"You have to sing it slower. Like a lullaby."

Dean huffed, "Why don't you do it?"

Sam shrugged. "Rock is up your alley, not mine."

Dean stared back down at Naomi and remembered his mother again. She would stroke his hair when she'd sing. He liked that, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to try it with Naomi. Tentatively touching her forehead, he softly stroked her hair. He couldn't believe how soft it was, how easily his fingers fell through her curls. After a moment, he started singing the chorus, his voice gruff and deep,

"And you shook me all night long. Yeah, you shook me all night long."

He watched Naomi's face soften as he continued, hardly noticing Sam quietly join in. He felt something inside him as he sang to Naomi, stroking her hair. He didn't want to take away from it by trying to figure out its source, so he instead let it swell up inside him as he sang. He sang the chorus a few more times as he savored the warmth that had spread through him.

When he had finished the song, Dean heard soft snoring behind him. Sam was fast asleep.

Placing a hand under her neck, Dean was able to get Naomi to take the medicine without a fight. He tipped the water bottle against her lips and she drank thirstily, most of the bottle gone by the time she had finished. Dean tucked the covers and blanket around her, then lied down on top of them next to her, propping his head up on his arm.

He watched her eyes flit under her eyelids and her chest rise and fall as she slept. Sweat glistened on her upper lip, which he gently wiped away. She didn't stir. He rubbed a piece of her hair against his fingers as he sang softly, gently soothing him to sleep.

You really took me and you shook me all night long.