Chapter Four

Dean sat at the kitchenette's tiny table, wolfing down his Chinese noodles- delivered to the room because there was no way he was leaving his brother alone again- while keeping an eye on Sam. His younger brother's fever had gone down a few degrees- thank God- but not enough to make Dean completely relaxed just yet. Sam was still shivering under three motel blankets- one of which came from Dean's bed- with nothing in his stomach but a few mouthfuls worth of Ginger Ale.

Tossing the empty Styrofoam container into the trashcan, Dean went to his brother's side, deciding that he should try and get Sam to at least drink some more soda.

"Hey Sammy," Dean spoke quietly and laid a hand on his brother's brow, frowning a little at the heat still pouring off the younger man in waves.

Sam stirred at the sound of his brother's voice and opened his eyes halfway.

"D'n?" Sam breathed and Dean squeezed his brother's hand.

"I'm right here, Sammy," he smiled when Sam's grip tightened on his fingers.

"Hmmm," Sam hummed and began to close his eyes again.

"Hold that thought Sam," Dean said quickly before his sibling could slip into unconsciousness again, "Feeling up to having some Ginger Ale?"

Sam shook his head wearily, sliding down the headboard but Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and brought the can of soda to Sam's dry lips.

"Just drink a little bit," Dean murmured and watched attentively as his brother took a sip of the Ginger Ale.

Dean sighed and brushed some hair back from his brother's forehead, checking Sam's temperature as he did so.

"D-D'n?" Sam stammered, teeth chattering, "…Mmmm c-cold."

Dean frowned, "I know you are, Sammy."

He looked around the small motel room, trying to see if there were any more extra blankets. There were none.

Maybe he'd call the front desk and ask for some more, Dean decided, knowing that it didn't really matter how many blankets he piled on top of his brother, the fever would still give him the chills.

Dean managed to get Sam to gulp down another mouthful of Ginger Ale before he stood and moved to the room's heating and cooling unit. Although it was the middle of summer and the room was already fairly warm, Dean cranked the heat all the way up and listened for a moment as the A/C chugged away as it pumped hot air into the room.

Sam watched his brother blearily until Dean helped him lay back down and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Dean smiled at his brother and wished he could do something more to help ease Sam's discomfort.

Rubbing his face with both hands, the eldest Winchester peered around the shabby motel room.

Dean wasn't sure what to do. He had to get his brother's fever down somehow and the last thing he wanted to do was take Sam to a hospital.

Suddenly Dean remembered something he'd seen on an episode of Dr. Sexy- some cute co-ed had come in with a raging fever that needed to be broken immediately and the show's namesake had dramatically deposited the ailing girl into one of the hospital's industrial sized bathtubs full of ice water- that might just work for his brother. Although not the best TV show to copy medical practices from, Dean was sure that it had some credibility.

Risking leaving Sam alone, Dean grabbed the rather small ice bucket from their motel room and ran down to the outside alcove where the ice machine was.

Dean slammed his fist onto the button and the dispenser growled unhappily as it coughed out enough ice to fill his bucket. Looking down at the measly amount of ice, Dean realized it would take him at least a half-dozen trips to fill the motel bathtub.

Screw this, Dean thought and suddenly his eyes lit upon a large blue bucket sitting beside one of the vending machines that shared the alcove.

Grabbing the pail, Dean dumped his bucket of ice into it and held it up with one hand as he hammered on the button to coax more ice from the temperamental machine.

Sprinting back to the motel room, Dean dumped the bucket of ice into the bathtub, jammed the stopper into the drain and turned the tap to its coldest setting.

As chilly water gurgled into the tub, the ice cubes began to float around and Dean was reminded of a party he'd been to in high school where some kid had used his bathtub as a giant bowl for some God-awful concoction of booze he called 'punch'. Dean remembered seeing some of the partygoers using ladles (no doubt from the kitchen) to scoop the alcohol into plastic cups and was glad he was sticking to beer that night.

"Deee'n," Sam's thin, weak voice brought his brother back to the present and Dean quickly turned the water off and went to his sibling's side.

"You're not going to like this part very much, Sammy," Dean told his brother as he began pulling Sam's socks off, "But it will help. I promise."

Sam lifted his head and peered blearily at his brother as Dean unbuttoned his jeans and began to tugging them off.

"Ain't got nothing I haven't seen before," Dean continued up a steady stream of chatter as he dumped his brother's pants into a pile at the end of the bed and began helping him sit up so he could remove his shirt.

"D'n… c'cold," Sam whispered and his brother nodded as he carefully maneuvered Sam's arms from the sleeves of his shirt.

"How can you be cold, little bro? It's a freakin' sauna in here!" Dean dropped Sam's plaid button-up shirt off the side of the bed and began to work on getting his t-shirt off.

Once Sam was clad only in his boxers, Dean pulled him into a standing position. The younger man swayed dangerously on his feet so Dean slid a supporting arm under his shoulders and began to shuffle toward the open bathroom doorway.

"You're almost there Sammy," Dean encouraged his brother as they moved at a snail's pace, "Keep going."

Sam stopped as soon as his feet touched the yellowed linoleum floor of the bathroom.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean shuffled forward, giving his sibling no choice but to follow.

Dean imagined that Sam's expression turned dubious once he saw the tub full of water and ice. Dean wasn't going to let his brother stop now though. With some pulling and cajoling, Dean finally got his brother to the side of the bathtub.

The older Winchester held his brother's elbows securely as Sam lifted one foot and set it in the bathtub.

Sam's eyes widened in shock and he immediately lifted his foot out of the water again. He wrapped his long-fingered hands around his brother's forearms and tried to use the leverage to get his leg over the rim of the tub.

"I don't think so, Sam," Dean said, "You've gotta sit down."

"C-cold… De- D'n," Sam whimpered and his eyes grew round and wet.

"Not going to work on me this time," Dean stared at the tiled wall over his brother's head to avoid looking into his 'puppy-eyes'.

"Pl-ple-please," Sam begged and although Dean's heart crawled up into his throat he shook his head.

"Put your foot back down," Dean commanded in his most authoritative voice and Sam slowly complied.

"Okay, now lift your other foot," Dean instructed and his brother's grip on his arms tightened until he winced, "I won't let you fall."

Sam began shivering and goosebumps appeared on his exposed skin as he stood rigid in the bathtub, reluctant to move any further.

"Sammy, c'mon, this will make you feel better," Dean practically begged his younger brother, "I promise."

Dean wasn't sure how much longer his brother would be able to stay on his own two feet and he really didn't want Sam to collapse; he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep him from falling.

Slowly Sam began to sit down- Dean keeping a tight grip on his elbows to prevent him from going down too fast- with a sad, defeated look on his pale face.

Dean planted his butt on the closed toilet lid as Sam sat facing the tub's faucet. The younger man shook visibly and Dean frowned when his brother practically glared at him through red-rimmed eyes.

Dean did feel like a bit of a dick but if this brought down Sam's fever, his brother's disapproving looks would be worth it.

Dean kept an eye on the clock- not sure exactly how long his brother would need to be in the ice bath- as he kept track of the time and kept up a continual stream of talk to try and distract his little brother as much as possible.

Author's Note:

1. Edited by BerserkerHellHound.

2. Thanks to mb64, Samstruck, L.A.H.H, SPN Mum, Priya723, AshleyMarie84, murphy9202, emebalia, LeighAnnWallace, BranchSuper, and TeamEtharahRules for reviewing.

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