Winchester Rules

by Visionairy

Sam may be young, but he's beginning to realize that both Dean and his dad are keeping something from him. And if that's the case, a sick Sam decides, it can go both ways.

Chapter 2

By the end of the day, lethargy had won out, and Sam's head sank down to rest on his desk while he read his final assignment. When his teacher spotted him, she leaned down next to him. "Sam, you don't look like you feel so good. If you want, you could leave class and visit the school nurse."

Realizing his error, Sam immediately slid up in his seat and tried his best to look healthy, "No," he swallowed roughly, "I'm fine." However choking on the words wasn't very convincing. Ms. Tanner appeared ready to pursue the issue, but was interrupted when the class bell rang. Sam stood up, grabbed his bag and gave a quick half-smile to his teacher before he hurriedly sidestepped two kids and slid out the door.

He walked quickly away and turned down the next hall before stopping at the drinking fountain to catch his breath and let the cool liquid appease his raw throat. Swallowing it was really hard, but still worth it. Did Nick really know what he was talking about? Well, usually he did. Thinking back to what Nick had said at lunch, Sam looked around to make sure nobody was looking, then he quickly checked his neck, and was unhappy to find that there were indeed swollen areas on either side of his throat. And his ear was killing him.

Sam grabbed his bag and hefted it back up on his shoulder, and with a determined stance headed for the door. He was a Winchester, and no stupid sore ear or throat was going to send him to the hospital. Winchesters didn't do hospitals. Winchesters hardly ever did doctors – and if Sam ever wanted to be treated like his older brother, he wasn't going to use doctors either.

"Saaaammy …" Dean drawled as Sam came up beside him. As usual, Dean was hanging out at the corner with some of his friends while he waited for Sam to arrive. They were a rowdy group, but treated Sam well enough.

Sidestepping Dean's casual punch to the shoulder, Sam started walking ahead knowing Dean would shortly follow. If he could avoid trying to talk to Dean on the way home, he could bury himself in his books for the rest of the night, and Dean would be none the wiser.

"Hey, Speed Racer .." Dean's voice called from behind, "… where're you off to in such a hurry?"

Sam twisted back and shrugged but kept walking, deliberately slowing his pace. He didn't want Dean to get suspicious. And it seemed that Dean always got suspicious.

Dean caught up in a few strides and ruffled his hair. "Hey, Squirt – want some pizza tonight? Dad left enough for a large this time." Dean was hungry all the time lately, and one of them always went hungry on a medium. Course they had to stick with plain cheese, but it was still a major treat. But today, the thought of pizza sauce on his miserable throat made Sam cringe. He couldn't think of an excuse to tell Dean though, and not wanting to rob his brother of the pleasure he just "Um-hm'd" and walked on.

They continued on in companionable silence till they were almost two blocks from home when Dean had to ask him how his math test went. Rather than answer in his croaky voice Sam evaded the question. Spearing Dean with a pair of raised eyebrows in challenge, he took off for home. Dean quickly took him up on it, loping close behind him until they were only a couple of houses away. Then Dean easily overtook him to scale the steps three at a time, nonetheless waiting for Sam to try touch the door first.

Just as Sam arrived, Dean threw the door open for him. "J'rk," Sam forced out as he side-slammed into his brother when they shoved through the door.

Dean laughed easily, throwing his bookbag onto the chipped countertop while Sam tried to recover from the effect the minor contact had on his recently throbbing ear. Heading for the fridge, Sam felt winded from the short run, and could feel the air rushing painfully in and out of his throat. Inside, despite all his efforts to the contrary, he still felt like the little kid who wanted his brother to make a blanket fort for him on the sofa, bring him medicine, juice and pudding, and then lean up next to him and watch stupid action movies till he fell asleep.

Pulling open the fridge to get something cold to ease his throat, Sam realized that the liquid contents were limited to a handful of beers, a half empty bottle of Coke, and a quart of milk. Sam picked up the milk, but it weighed far less than it needed to to provide a good glassful.

Turning back Sam just barely reacted in time to catch a bag of potato chips flying in his direction. "So," Dean fished out the bottle of Coke and took a long swallow, "…running – before or after pizza?"

Ever since Sam had turned six, Dad had started having him run with Dean every day, either before or after school depending on the season. Dean, being older, had been assigned additional laps as well as sit-ups and push-ups. Sam didn't understand. They both had PE in school, so why did they have to do it at home, too? Especially today … if Sam could feel any worse, he wasn't sure how. His face obviously dropped because Dean stepped closer, "You don't look so good – you feeling okay?"

Sam twisted away and grabbed his backpack and whispered as loud as he could, "Lots of homework 's all."

"What?" Dean turned to follow him when the phone rang. Sam escaped to their room as he heard Dean answer with a 'Yes, Sir'.

Saved by the bell, again, Sam sat on his bed and pulled out his math homework. Over the past hour, his ear had gone from achy and sensitive to downright painful. He laid down and then rolled over to put some pressure on it, but that hurt - a lot, so he rolled over to the other side, but that only helped minutely. Maybe he should tell Dean. He never remembered his ear hurting this much. But he didn't want to move, and his throat was too raw to yell. Keeping secrets really sucked – on both sides. A traitorous tear leaked it's way out of one eye, rolled down over his nose and dripped on the pillow.

Sam slid down on the bed, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get control, but that just forced more tears out. He was too old to act like this. How could he prove that he was old enough to help Dad and Dean if he couldn't take care of himself. Pushing his hand onto the area around the painful ear, he didn't hear the door open, and yelped when Dean sat down on the bed next to him.

"Hey, hey – easy, Sammy – what's wrong?" Dean observed his brother curled nearly into a fetal position with one hand cradling his ear.

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gently started prying his hand away to get a better look at the problem. "Let me look at you, did you hurt yourself?"

"No," Sam tried to put his hand back in place protecting his ear.

Dean's hand locked around Sam's wrist and pulled a little harder, "Then why won't you let me look at it?"

"No, Dean," he rasped as he scrambled as far to the back of the bed as he could until his back hit the wall.

Looking his brother over carefully, Dean noticed the smudges on his face and the red blotches on his cheeks. "You're sick, aren't you?"

Sam looked down and studied his folded knee before shaking his head.

"No, Sammy, look at me." He let go of his wrist and squeezed his shoulder, "Come on, little bro. You don't look so good. What's wrong?

Sam tried to shrug off his hand while continuing to stare at the fraying cuff of his pants.

Dean moved his hand under Sam's chin and pressed his head up. "Hey, what's going on?" When Sam didn't respond, Dean's voice dropped into his new even lower tenor – a sign of the seriousness of his brother's request. "Sammy, tell me what's wrong with you."

Lightly shrugging his shoulders, Sam finally looked directly at Dean and whispered, "My ear hurts a little."

"Well, let me look at it." Dean reached out and tugged Sam closer. Finally relenting, Sam gradually eased his hand away as Dean looked closer, "How long has it been hurting?'

"Couple of days," Sam whispered softly.

"Couple of days? Why didn't you say something?" The heat from his brother's body registered with Dean as he struggled to get a good look in his ear. Putting his hand across his forehead confirmed his suspicions. "Wait here a sec, I've gotta find a flashlight."

Running into the other room, Dean returned quickly with a flashlight in one hand, and a thermometer in the other.

Sticking the thermometer in his brother's mouth, Dean levered his hand away again and took a look in Sam's ear. It was hard to see, but when he moved the light around, it was clear that it was red and puffy. Really red and puffy. He pulled the side back to get a better view, but it just resulted in a whimper from below.

"Damn it, Sam! Your ear looks really bad. Remember what the doc said last time this happened. You have to catch these early, or they just get worse. He said your ear drum could burst. Shit."

Looking dejectedly up at his brother, Sam put his hand protectively back over his ear and pressed.

The tiny beep went off and Dean didn't wait for Sam to hand it to him, anxiously pulling it out to take a look. "102?" He looked back down accusingly at his little brother. "102.4 Sam, that's not good."

Dean reached down and grabbed up the flashlight again. "Open up. Come on, dude. Let me see your throat, too."

Sam silently opened his mouth for the examination.

Dean tried to get a good angle to see down his throat, "Come on, Sam - say Ahhhhh"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, "Ahhhgh"

Spots! There were tiny white spots all over the back of Sam's throat.

This was bad, Dean knew that much. He'd already been to the doctor several times with a sick Sam – and the doc had made it clear that if it kept happening it could get really painful very fast. Last time, which wasn't even that long ago, the doctor had spent some time lecturing their dad about catching these things faster, even mentioning the likelihood of tonsillitis and even rupturing an ear drum.

Dean had tried to keep a closer eye on his brother, but why hadn't Sam said anything? And now the doctor's offices would be closed, and he didn't have a damn thing that would take care of it. Frustration was building up in Dean until he looked back down at his brother's face and saw the misery there.

"Okay, alright." He stood up and walked around the room. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll take care of this." He stopped at the dresser and looked at the thermometer again. "Just, I have to get you to a doctor."

TBC

So, what are your thoughts on this chapter?