Dean frowned at Sam's sudden coughing; the harsh, breathless sound echoing through the Batcave's shooting range.

"Hey. Easy..." Dean soothed, moving his hand from Sam's chest to instead cover his brother's mouth as Sam continued to cough but seemed too weak to raise his arms and cover his own mouth.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was love – not even thinking twice, not even flinching as your little brother coughed blood and spit across your bare hand.

Still watching and listening from her position by the wall, Charlie cringed – because that was so gross...and yet so sweet.

"You're the best big brother ever," she told Dean, her awestruck tone breaking the silence as she approached and crouched beside him.

Dean cut his eyes at her, clearly liking it better when Charlie was quiet and out of his space while he tended to his brother.

There was a pause.

"Oh...right..." Charlie commented, suddenly realizing. "Sorry..." she added as she took the hint, offering an apologetic smile before standing up and backing away a few steps to resume her previous spot.

Dean shook his head in annoyance but said nothing, once again focused on his brother as Sam coughed and then gasped noisily, sounding dangerously close to aspirating his own blood as it lingered in his throat.

Dean frowned and lowered his hand from Sam's mouth; briefly wiping the blood and spit across his pants and then slipping his arm under Sam's shoulders to sit the kid up.

Sam continued to cough, his breathing marginally eased by the change of position.

Dean nodded – satisfied that Sam was no longer choking on his own blood – and watched his brother, his gaze unwavering as he monitored Sam's condition while one cough followed another...and another and another.

Dean sighed. "You can wrap it up anytime now, Sam..." he grumbled.

But Charlie could hear Dean's worry, could see his thumb rubbing back and forth over Sam's shoulder offering unspoken comfort as Dean supported his brother.

Sam coughed once more and then sighed, shaky and breathless.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "You done?"

Sam seemed to consider the question, swallowing hard and panting through his mouth as he limply reclined in Dean's arms.

"Sam..." Dean prompted, his thumb still rubbing back and forth.

Sam nodded. "Done," he replied and then swallowed. "I think. For now..."

Dean nodded as well, familiar with the routine of Sam's coughing spells. "Good," he praised and brushed his fingers across Sam's blood-smeared lips as if all of this was no big deal.

Charlie smiled, hoping Dean knew that she was serious earlier – he was the best big brother ever.

Sam seemed to agree as he also smiled, weak and tired. "Thanks."

"For being awesome?" Dean clarified and then shrugged. "Don't know any other way to be, Sammy..." he smoothly informed his brother, still supporting Sam with one arm while once again wiping the blood from Sam's mouth with his fingers.

Charlie felt unexpectedly sappy, overwhelmed with the urge to hug them both for being so awesome; for taking care of each other and appreciating each other and loving each other and just...

Charlie sighed.

These guys...

Dean's gaze swept the length of Sam's body, checking his brother's condition before he even asked his next question. "You ready to stand?"

And Charlie knew that if Sam said no, then Dean would sit there on the floor with his brother for as long as Sam needed.

And for some reason, even that was sweet.

She smiled softly.

"Sam..." Dean called, staring down at his drowsy brother. "You hear me? You ready to stand?"

Because Dean was ready to get Sam upstairs; was ready to get his brother cleaned up, so he could better assess what kind of first aid Sam's head needed from where the kid had smacked it on the concrete ledge earlier.

"Was that Charlie?" Sam asked instead of responding to Dean's question, sounding confused as if he had just processed having caught glimpse of her moments ago; as if he suddenly remembered that she had arrived earlier in the day and had gone with Dean to do...something.

Sam couldn't remember that.

But he knew that Charlie was there now and tried to turn his head in the direction he had last seen her.

Dean scowled at Sam's sluggish movements. "Hey. Be still," he lightly scolded, resting his hand on Sam's chest as his brother shifted in his arms. "Sam. I mean it. Be still...as in stop moving."

Because Sam needed to save his energy for getting to his feet in a few minutes...and then getting up the stairs.

But Sam persisted, as stubborn as he was tired.

"Was it?" Sam pressed about Charlie being in the shooting range, sounding slightly alarmed that she was there; that she had just witnessed...well, this.

Because being this sick and weak in front of Dean was one thing, but Sam preferred not to be seen like this by anyone else.

Dean sighed harshly, knowing his brother's thoughts; knowing why Sam was so anxious to confirm whether Charlie was there or not.

And there she was, standing by the wall staring at them.

"Hi, Sam..." Charlie greeted as Sam's gaze finally found her.

Sam blinked.

Charlie shifted nervously, suddenly feeling like the intruder she was.

Sam continued to blink at her, making a distressed sound. "Oh, god..."

Because she had seen everything – the unconsciousness and the coughing and the blood and the gasping and the total dependence on Dean.

Sam swallowed, returning his attention to his big brother. "Dean..."

Because Sam was vaguely aware that he was too hot, too tired, and too disoriented to trust his own judgment on this; everything seeming worse than it was when you were sick and injured.

Dean shook his head, silently assuring his exhausted and overly-sensitive little brother that this was not as bad as Sam thought.

Sam didn't seem convinced.

Charlie wished she had stayed upstairs.

Dean sighed. "It's alright, Sam," he soothed. "I mean...it's just Charlie, right?" he joked, even as he glared at the redhead; appreciating her wanting to help when she had approached earlier but annoyed that she had further distressed his brother.

Charlie bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her tone genuine.

Because she would never want to upset Sam...and she was a little bit scared of Dean, especially when it came to Sam.

"But hey..." Charlie called and laughed lightly. "No worries. What happens in the Batcave, stays in the Batcave. Right?"

She paused when neither brother responded.

"Guys..." Charlie prompted, hating how unsure and desperate she sounded. "Am I right?"

Because they had to know that she would never tell anyone about any of this – about how sick and vulnerable Sam was, about Dean's candid worry and gentle care.

Those were sides of the Winchesters rarely seen by others. And in a strange, unexplainable way, Charlie cherished what she had witnessed.

What she had seen and heard between Sam and Dean would stay with her; would be the kind of thing she would think about before she fell asleep at night – a reminder of what family truly was, of what it meant to love someone more than yourself.

Charlie's gaze flickered between the brothers still staring at her. "Guys..."

Because the prolonged silence was becoming a little awkward and concerning.

"What happens here, stays here...right?"

Dean twitched a smile at Charlie's repeated effort to smooth things over and glanced down at Sam.

Still supported in Dean's arms, Sam seemed to relax, continuing to feel slightly upset and embarrassed but realizing that Dean had been right – this was just Charlie.

Everything was fine.

Sam sighed, sounding shaky and tired, and then swallowed, nodding at Dean.

Dean's smile widened, returning his brother's nod and then glancing at Charlie. "Damn right," he heartily agreed with her Vegas-style rule about the Batcave.

Charlie smiled, clearly relieved. "Good," she replied and then paused. "So...we're good?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. We're good."

Because in her own way, Charlie had become family to them – was in the circle of trust and all that crap.

Charlie sighed. "Alright then..."

"Alright then..." Dean agreed.

There was a beat of silence.

Big brother holding wannabe sister's gaze, silently communicating that yeah, he liked her...and yeah, he trusted her – but his primary priority would always be Sam, and she needed to tread lightly.

Because hurting or upsetting Sam, even unintentionally, would not be tolerated...especially these days when Sam was already so fragile from enduring the trials.

Charlie held Dean's gaze – realizing the significance of this moment – and nodded her understanding, her promise to abide by the big brother's rules.

Dean nodded that he would hold her to it.

There was more silence.

"Okay, enough of this bonding crap..." Dean announced gruffly.

Charlie shook her head good-naturedly at Dean's typical response.

Dean refocused on his brother. "You ready to stand, Sammy? Because I gotta tell ya, man...you're heavy as hell leaning against my arm like this. And my knees are freakin' killin' me crouched down next to your needy ass."

Sam huffed a laugh – his brother always extra grumbly after a chick flick moment – and then coughed, swallowed. "Bite me, Dean."

Dean arched an eyebrow, surprised but pleased that Sam felt like keeping up with their usual banter.

There was a pause.

"Alright, listen..." Dean told Sam, fisting the kid's shirt in preparation to pull his brother to his feet. "Enough talking. Let's get you up. On three, okay?"

Sam nodded, holding onto Dean's arm.

Charlie stepped forward. "What can I do?"

"Stay out of the way," Dean answered, not even looking at her.

Charlie scowled. "There has to be something I can do..." she countered and reached for Sam.

Dean cut his eyes at her.

What did I just say?

Charlie blinked, her hands hovering over Dean's little brother mid-grab.

Sam shook his head once, further warning her to abort her good intention of trying to help.

Because nothing personal, but Dean didn't want her help.

Dean needed this – needed to take care of Sam since he hadn't been there when Sam had lost consciousness earlier.

It was a big brother thing.

And Dean needed this.

Which meant Charlie needed to back off...now.

Charlie nodded and held her hands up. "Sorry..." she offered and again backed away from the brothers.

Dean sighed. "Okay, Sammy. On the count of three..." he reminded.

"Okay," Sam agreed, frowning in concentration as he continued to cling to Dean's arm.

"Here we go," Dean warned, readjusting his grip on his brother. "One...two...three..."

And in the next instant, Sam was on his feet; the room tilting as he was lifted up.

Charlie felt like clapping.

But Sam made a sound – half grunt, half moan – as an explosion of pain flared behind his eyes, throbbing across his forehead and competing for his attention against the increasing pressure in his chest.

Sam coughed as his vision momentarily wavered and he slumped forward, fully expecting to pass out again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Dean called, fully expecting the same, and tightened his hold on his sagging little brother. "Sammy. Stay with me..."

Sam made a different, noncommittal sound; making no promises as the room continued to spin.

Dean frowned. "Alright. Timeout..." he announced, cupping the back of Sam's neck and guiding his brother's head to rest on his shoulder; the kid's forehead too warm as it pressed against him, smearing blood on his shirt.

Charlie hovered anxiously. "Oh my god...what can I do? What can I do? Tell me what I can do."

"Nothing," Dean responded, calm and in control of the situation. "He's fine," he assured about Sam, keeping his hand on the back of his brother's neck, soothing and grounding. "Just give him a minute..."

Hence the "timeout".

Charlie stared at Dean, wide-eyed and uncertain.

Because Sam looked like he needed a hell of a lot more than just a minute.

"Are you – "

" – yes," Dean interrupted, narrowing his eyes at Charlie as she stood closer than before. "I'm sure."

Now shut up and fuck off.

The message had been as clear as if Dean had actually said it.

Charlie swallowed but nodded.

Yeah, okay. She could do that.

It was really hard because she wanted to help.

But she could do that.

She had promised to do that earlier, so she would.

She would just stand there and be quiet.

Yeah. She would do that.

Hopefully...

Charlie sighed, pressing her lips together to prevent words from slipping out.

They waited.

Sam continued to lean against Dean; his head bent, resting on his brother's shoulder and breathing slowly, deliberately; one hand weakly fisting Dean's shirt in a comfort-seeking gesture.

Dean stood there, patient and unmoving; bearing most of Sam's weight; one hand still cupping Sam's neck while the other securely held Sam's bicep, keeping his brother upright.

Charlie watched them, startled by the urge to cry as she was overwhelmed by the moment; was touched by Sam's absolute trust and by Dean's unexpected gentleness with his little brother.

Because sure, she had read about these moments in the books.

But seeing it...

Oh, man.

There was no comparison.

Charlie blinked against threatening tears.

Several minutes passed.

"Dean..."

Dean blinked at the sound of Sam's quiet voice. "Yeah, Sammy..."

"Ready," Sam told his brother, only having breath and energy for single words at this point.

Dean nodded. "Good," he praised and patted Sam's back before carefully easing his brother away from him; holding the kid at arm's length to better see Sam for himself.

Sam blinked back – pale and sweaty and bloody and looking like shit.

But Sam was conscious and trying to smile at Dean...and that was good enough for this big brother.

Dean returned the smile. "Alright, man. Upstairs. Here we go..." he warned, turning to stand beside Sam instead of in front of him.

Sam shifted where he stood, trying to find his balance.

Dean scowled. "Be still," he scolded, grabbing Sam's arm. "I just got you off the floor. I don't want to pick you back up."

But he would.

Charlie knew without a doubt that Dean would pick Sam up no matter how many times he fell.

"And you know the drill..." Dean continued as he and Sam started shuffling forward. "You lean on me and the railing. Got it?"

Sam nodded.

Charlie followed behind them, feeling like the proverbial third wheel. "What about me? What can I do?"

"You can be quiet," Dean returned bluntly.

Because climbing the steps would require concentration and focus for Sam, who was already trembling against Dean's side with the effort it took to cross to the doorway.

And Sam couldn't concentrate if Charlie kept chattering.

Thank god they didn't have a real little sister...

Charlie sighed, not liking Dean's order but understanding and following it as they approached the stairs.

Sam paused at the first step, his gaze traveling up the staircase like it was a mountain.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen, Sam..." he admonished, though there was no heat to the jibe.

After all, Dean knew how hard this was going to be for his brother.

"Just one step at a time, man..." Dean reminded, squeezing Sam's arm in silent encouragement. "No rush. I'm right here beside you, and I got nowhere else to be."

"Me, neither," Charlie added.

Dean cut his eyes at her over his shoulder.

Charlie cringed – having already forgotten that she was supposed to be quiet – and then motioned zipping her lips.

Dean sighed harshly at the childish gesture and then refocused on his brother. "Alright, Sammy. Whenever you're ready..."

Sam nodded.

They waited.

Several seconds later, Sam stepped forward, gripping the railing along the wall of the staircase...and gripping Dean's arm even harder as he pulled himself up.

Dean winced slightly as Sam's fingers dug into his skin.

But hey...whatever helped the kid.

"Doin' good, Sammy..." Dean praised when they had climbed two steps.

Charlie nodded her agreement about the painfully slow progress and followed behind them.

Minutes passed.

Then several more minutes...

Then several more...

"Holy..."

"I know," Dean agreed as Sam's breathless voice trailed off.

Because holy shit it was taking a long time to climb this staircase.

Too bad they didn't have an elevator.

But out of all the cool things the Men of Letters had included in the Batcave, they had forgotten that one thing – a fucking elevator.

Jesus...

Dean shook his head. "But you're doin' good, Sammy," he encouraged and increased his grip on his shaking brother. "Just a few more steps..."

Which felt like a few more hundred steps at this rate...

Behind them, Charlie sighed.

More minutes passed.

Then finally...

"Hot damn!" Dean crowed as they cleared the top step; pausing for Sam to catch his breath and feeling his brother lean more heavily against him. "Sammy. You good?"

"Mmhmm," Sam hummed and then coughed.

"Easy..." Dean replied, noticing he said that a lot these days, and glanced over his shoulder.

Charlie smiled and gave two thumbs up. He did it, she mouthed.

Dean nodded – because damn right he did it...Sam was fucking awesome – and turned back to his brother, knowing they had to make use of this momentum; knowing they had to keep moving before Sam completely ran out of energy.

"Alright, Sammy. Home stretch," Dean announced, nodding at the hallway that indeed stretched in front of them. "Let's go..."

Sam grunted his displeasure but started moving again when Dean did; feeling his brother's hand securely grasping his arm, steadying him with each step down the hallway.

"Can I do anything yet?" Charlie asked, hating that she sounded like a whiney brat.

But dude, there had to be something she could do that was more useful than following the brothers around from one room to another.

"Actually..." Dean began, glancing at Charlie as she approached his opposite side. "You can go get a bottle of water from the kitchen."

Charlie pulled a face, because that seemed like a lame errand. "For serious?"

Dean arched an eyebrow at her tone as he continued to lead Sam down the hall. "You asked..." he reminded her.

Charlie sighed. "Fine," she replied like a moody teenager. "Which way to the kitchen?"

Dean nodded toward the left as another hall appeared.

"Wow. That was vague," Charlie commented about the nonverbal direction and sighed again. "Okay. Bottle of water from the kitchen coming up. Anything else?"

Dean shook his head, glancing at Sam as his brother stumbled. "Easy there, Princess Grace."

Sam huffed a laugh and swallowed audibly; one hand clinging to Dean while the other slid over the wall, bracing himself on both sides as they made their way to his room.

Charlie frowned, suddenly reminded of how sick and weak Sam was; of how Dean had a good reason to be distracted right now; of how she should get over herself and go get the damn bottle of water if that's what they needed her to do.

Was she Team Winchester or not?

Was she a team player they could count on?

Damn right, she was.

Charlie nodded. "BRB," she tossed over her shoulder as she turned left down the other hall Dean had indicated seconds before, going off to complete her mission.

TBC