Author's Note: Well...you know, I was actually very sad about the lack of reviews. But, to those who reviewed, I have decided to give you my never ending gratitude, and this new chapter. And guys, most of you are authors too, please review! But, overall, enjoy!

Dean had one hand over his brothers' pale, frigid, clammy hand. Dean squeezed it tighter, as if that could tell Sam he was there and he was sorry. I am never leaving you again, Sammy.. I don't care if you say you hate my guts and if you see me again you'll kill me, I will always watch over you. I'll never slack off again. Dean ran his gaze over his brother's sleeping form, gaze ending on his brother's face, which was relaxed in his sleep. Suddenly, Sam wasn't an adult, he was a very sick 12-year-old after a long night in a mountain of snow.

...FLASHBACK..

16-year-old Dean Winchester watched as his little brother trudged through the snow, eyes dull with need of sleep. The hunt for a Wendigo had been made harder by the copious amounts of snow and wind, but the Winchesters had killed the creature. After a night in the freezing snow with howling winds biting into their jackets.

"Sure you're okay, Sammy?" Dean inquired, trying to create conversation. The Wendigo had swiped once through the back of Sam's jacket before Dean shot it with a flare gun. Dean had offered his jacket, but Sam had refused, with 6 months of combat training with Dad and Dean to back it up. I could beat him, of course, but he has to get used to the cold someday. And he might actually get a punch in.

"Sammy, you sure-"

"It's Sam, and I'm fine. I just want to get in the car and sleep." Ever since he joined them on hunts, Sam was repulsed by the name of 'Sammy', and was trying to keep as long hours as they had. But they'd put their foot down on a 10:00 p.m. bedtime. Though Dean knew Sam sometimes would go back to work after Dad went to sleep. Soon, little brother, that excitement and willingness'll fade. Or maybe it won't.

Finally, the black coat of the Impala was in sight. He heard Sam mutter "Thank God," and Dean silently agreed. He opened the passenger door, a little discomforted but unsurprised by the coldness of the handle. After settling in his seat, Dean turned around to face his baby brother, who was laying on the whole back seat, looking as if he was trying to sleep.

"Dean, can you turn on the heat, please?" Sam asked politely, rubbing his arms. Dean reached for the control, then realized he didn't have the keys. "Damn, Dad has them. I'll just go find Dad-" Dean's hand had barely touched the handle, when Sam shot up.

"No, Dean, don't go! If you go and get lost, you could get hypothermia or starve and Dad'll try to find you and we'll just stay here longer and you could be killed and you're staying here." Dean's eyes widened as he turned around to face Sam. Focusing on Sam's face, he noted it looked wan. That isn't normal.

"Sammy, I'm staying right here. Hey, buddy, come here, I need to tell you something." Sam leaned forward, and Dean pressed his hand to his forehead. His brother was like a mini oven. No wonder he wasn't cold! Damn! "Damn it, Sam, you don't lie about this! God, I have to go find..." Dean trailed off as he saw the buildup of snow outside. And I can't leave Sammy alone...fine. I'll hold up until Dad gets here. What to do for a feverish person...

Dean tore off his jacket, and ordered Sam to put it on. Sam did, albeit reluctantly. I'd rather have a pissed healthy brother than a happy ill one. I have this stupid fear that Sam'll die of whatever illness and I'll be helpless to do anything. Yeah, and I didn't catch on that he was sick. Call yourself older brother? Dean shook it off. Focus, Dean. Umm...lower the body temperature. Okay, I have snow outside. Dean ripped up some of a spare shirt, and filled three little strips of fabric with snow. He made Sam keep his wrists on two, and another on his neck. Blood flows through there, so that'll lower the temperature. Anything else...keep 'em conscious.

"Hey, Sammy, what is bc divided by a, then multiplied by d, if a is 5, b is 10, c is 15, and d is twenty?" Sam actually likes math, so he'll have to do it...it'll buy me some time...in a moment, Sam had the answer.

"600,"

"You're real smart, Sam. Want another?" Dean was desperate to keep Sam awake. Dad told me this stuff. If I obey, it'll be okay. If not...Sam is my responsibility. I will never let anything harm him to the best of my ability, or him harm himself.

...FlASHABCK END..

Somehow, that memory came to Dean. Maybe the feeling of complete and utter helplessness. The feeling of knowing he was the reason why Sam was in such bad shape. Dean concentrated his hearing for any sign of anything from Sam. Just one thing, anything, to tell me...whatever it is you want. Then one of the machines -Dean could name it if he tried, he just didn't care enough about it- began beeping. Dean stood back and pressed himself against the wall. A horde of nurses and a few doctors rushed in, and Dean was pulled out by a nurse.

Dean watched for five minutes as they wheeled Sam off, then kept staring into that hallway as if he could see whatever was happening to Sam. Once again, a nurse ex machina appeared.

"You're Sam Winchester's brother?" The pretty nurse asked. Dean wasted no time in responding with,

"Yes. How is he?"

"Well, Mr. Winchester, your brothers' lung collapsed again. Apparently some internal bleeding opened up, so we have to do that. But don't worry, your brother will be perfectly okay, I think."

After only an hour-long surgery -thank God- and an hour long wait, Dean was admitted to his younger brother's room. Dean took his original seat, and the silence unnerved him.

"You know, Sammy, I never thought I'd miss my little annoying bitch of a brother so much. But I do. And you're less of a bitch. But I was a complete bastard to you. Please wake up soon so you can punch me or whatever you want to do." Dean had never been very good at apologies, genuine ones at least, but that one was fair. And, in all the worry and confusion, the Blade never once entered Dean's thoughts. He listened to the soft sounds of Sam's aided breathing, and suddenly the heartbeat monitor picked up the slightest bit.

And his brother's eyes opened.