What People Call Brother, I Call Home

Dean is 11 years old and Sam is 7 years old. Dean is sick and not getting better. Sam needs to take care of him until everything gets much worse and he calls John.

Meningitis. Seizures. Temporary sequelae. It's not a death fanfic.

Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 1

Sam had to make some decisions in his life. But this one was paralyzing him. Would Dean like to drink juice? Now? And toast? Was that a good idea?

He wanted to ask Dean what to do. That's what he always did. But Dean wasn't here now. In front of him was just the bathroom door. The bathroom door hiding his brother. He could hear Dean. Not Dean, but the sounds he was making. And he didn't even know if that was good or bad. He wanted so badly to decide. Decide if juice was good when someone is sick. Decide if he should try to enter the bathroom, even though Dean had told him not to. Decide... if this was an emergency.

He felt more tears forming in his eyes.

He wanted... he wanted Dean.

Okay. He needs me. I just need to remember what he does when I'm sick.

He approached the door timidly.

— Dean?

No answer. But he didn't know if he'd asked out loud. Maybe he hadn't.

— Dean? — This time, he did. — Dean, I need you to answer me. I know you don't want me to come in. But if you don't answer me, I'm going to have to call Dad.

Silence.

— Dean, I'm not joking. — Sam tried to speak firmly, like Dad did. — Dean, answer me now! Please...

Sam's voice trembled, and the intended firmness gave way to a fragile, small voice that made him feel ashamed.

He decided to enter. Dean couldn't be messing with him. Not after how he'd seen him get in the last few days. He needs me.

A noise startled him.

Plop. Plop.

He hadn't realized the tears had decided to fall. And now they were dripping into the juice. The juice he was going to give to Dean. He'd ruined everything.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he grasped the doorknob and opened the door. What he saw inside shocked him deeply: Dean was lying on the floor, trembling, his fragile state breaking Sam's heart.

— Oh my God, Dean!

The bathroom floor was now a complete mess. Dean's vomit was there. Sam's tears were there. The juice Dean was supposed to drink was there. But mostly, his brother was there, trembling.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

— Dean!

— Hmm.

— Dean, you're late. We're late. You know we have school. You have to take me there. And you have to wake me up. And you have to make my breakfast. And you're still sleeping! Mrs. Stoner is going to be so mad. She says I'm her best student. And now I've ruined everything. How am I going to explain to her that I was late on the day of the science fair?

Dean wished so much that Sam would shut up. He could only think that maybe John was right.

You spoil him, Dean. He needs to grow up.

That annoying headache hadn't gone away since the morning before. And now, it felt like he hadn't slept at all. Exhausted was the closest word.

— DEAN! When Dad gets back, I'm going to tell him. You're being so stupid.

— Sam, wait. I'm coming. I'll talk to your teacher. Don't worry.

Sam went the whole way without looking at him. He held Dean's hand to cross the street. But his face was turned the other way.

Dean couldn't care about that now. He felt like a zombie. He just wanted to lie down and sleep. Right there. On that dirty sidewalk. He didn't care.

He wanted so much to yell at Sam. Tell him to stop being a selfish brat. But it wasn't Sam's fault. Sam was just a kid. He didn't understand.

— Mrs. Stoner, I'm sorry. Sam didn't want to be late. It was my fault.

— Dean? Are you feeling okay, dear? You don't look well.

It was the first time Sam looked at Dean that morning. Mrs. Stoner was right. Dean looked... pale. But of course he's fine. Dean is always fine. Right?

— Yeah. Just a little tired. Nothing to worry about. Thanks. See you later, Sammy.

Sam didn't respond. He was still mad. Though... now he was a little worried.

By lunchtime, Sam had pushed aside his worries and also his annoyance with Dean. He was in the yard with Josh and Emma. They were excited about the morning of different scientific experiences at the science fair.

Out of habit, Sam looked at the tables where Dean usually sat with some friends. Dean wasn't always very social. But that was by choice. When he wanted, there were always people hovering near him and thinking he was the coolest. It was annoying.

But Dean was nowhere to be seen. Obviously, today was a "not social" day.

Dean's break usually ended a bit before Sam's. Maybe he'd already gone to class.

— This afternoon is going to be boring — Josh said to Sam.

— Why?

— Cultural presentation? Are you kidding? It's so boring. Hey, Sam. Isn't that your brother over there?

Sam looked to where Josh was pointing.

Definitely, it was Dean. Sitting on a bench, completely oblivious to the noise around him.

— You should be in class... you're going to get in trouble again. Dad won't like it!

Dean was looking the opposite way from Sam. He seemed to take way too long to turn his head.

— Dean? I'm talking to you! Are you going to be stupid again?

— Sammy?

Okay. This isn't normal. Dean barely noticed Sam there and seemed... confused.

— What's going on, Dean? Are you okay? Do you need help?

— Maybe...

Okay. Definitely worrying. Dean never admitted he needed help.

— I'll get someone. I'll be right back, okay? Just a minute.

They had been in this town for three weeks. John was still around. He and Caleb were investigating the case. They hadn't come to any conclusions yet. They were splitting time between talking to the victims' families, researching in the library, and reading newspapers. The crime scene was in a rural community a few hours from the city. They'd only been there once. They needed more information to act. That morning, he'd spent hours in the library... uselessly.

As soon as he got to the motel, he noticed the unmade beds.

Dean. He should know it's his responsibility!

Besides the unmade bed, the sweatshirt Dean slept in was thrown on the floor. Before his anger took full hold, the motel phone started ringing.

— John Winchester?

— Yes?

— This is Summit Ridge School.

— Let me talk to him! — John heard Sam's voice in the background.

— Dad, Dean's not okay. Come here. Quickly.

John's heart raced. Dean was always okay. And even if he wasn't, he'd never admit it.

~o~

Note: Caleb probably only entered their lives after that. But I gave myself this poetic freedom to include him in the story.