Chapter 3

SOME HOURS EARLIER...

Dean had been in his bed all morning. Sam managed to convince him to leave the bathroom in the early hours of the morning. Sam assured him that he would leave a bucket beside him, just like Dean had done for him that time he ate something bad at school. He could barely see Dean under the pile of blankets, and Dean was still trembling. Sam placed his hand on Dean's forehead, and the fact that his brother didn't protest horrified him. He quickly withdrew his hand as if he had been shocked upon touching Dean. Dean was burning up.

Dean hadn't spoken since the early hours. He slept the rest of the time, his sleep interspersed with groans that broke Sam's heart. Sam kept trying to get his brother to wake up and drink water. When Dean opened his eyes, Sam knew something was wrong. Not that he understood fully, but his gaze seemed... glassy. Dean didn't seem to see Sam. He couldn't drink water because he couldn't move his head anymore.

Please, Dad. Come quickly. His attempt to reach John in the early morning had been fruitless. But fortunately, Dad had called an hour ago.

— Sam? Was it you who called? What's happening?

— Dad, you need to come back.

— Sam, we already talked about this. How is your brother? Let me speak to him.

— He can't...

— Why? — John was met with silence. — Sammy, what's going on?

Then he heard Sam's sobs.

— Dad, it's an emergency. I swear. Please. Dean isn't talking anymore, or drinking water. And... he's very hot. Please. I don't know how to do this — Sam said amidst his tears — Please, Dad. I don't want him to get hurt.

— Okay, son. It's alright. I believe you. I'll be there in a few hours. Put a wet towel on Dean's forehead and back. Don't leave the blankets on him. That will make him warmer. I'm coming. I'll be as fast as I can.

Sam hadn't been able to take the blankets off Dean. He seemed to need them so much. He was afraid of making everything worse.

— Dean, I need to take your blankets off — Sam said uncertainly.

— S-Sam — his brother tried to say.

— Um, Dean... your fever is really high. I think we need to try to lower it a bit.

Dean couldn't focus long enough. Sam had said something. He didn't know what it was. Suddenly, he felt a blast of cold wind on his body and saw Sam removing the blankets.

— No, no... no, I'm cold, Sammy, don't do that. — Dean desperately tried to pull the blankets from Sam's hands. But he could barely move.

Dean was trembling, his arms tightly wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to retain his body's warmth. He was crying.

— Dean... I know it's bad. But, I just want to help you. You understand? — Dean didn't respond. Sam intended to get the wet cloth and place it on Dean, but he couldn't. Dean was suffering. Not knowing what to do, he lay down next to Dean and hugged him.

After a few hours, Sam managed to get Dean to drink two sips of water, and that relieved Sam's heart. Maybe Dean would start to get better now. But it didn't go further than that. Dean lay down again, and Sam stayed by his side with a book in hand, trying to think of something else while John arrived.

Every few minutes, Dean's body shook. Sam held his hand, not knowing what to do.

Dean's consciousness was completely clouded. He didn't understand what was happening or why he felt so bad. But when he felt Sam's hand in his, he found comfort in it and calmed down a bit.

It's always been you and me, Sammy. I couldn't live without you.

A few hours later, Dad still hadn't arrived. Dean had crawled to the bathroom again, and maybe Sam should try to get Dean to eat something...

NOW.

Of course, he knew what it was like to feel fear. Every time Dad left and didn't come back soon. Especially when he took Dean with him. Sam didn't understand, but he knew it was dangerous. They had come back very injured before. And Sam was terrified. But what he was feeling now had no comparison. Fear was too small a word. He was terrified. His hands were trembling. And he couldn't even move.

The dirty floor around him. His brother on this dirty floor.

Everything was leaking. Everyone here was broken. Dean's face was wet. Tears and saliva. And that wasn't the only thing that was wet. There was a puddle on the floor near Dean's legs. And there was a wet stain on his sweatpants. And the sweatpants were on his older brother. Your brother would never pee his pants. And merely trying to put all these things together was impossible for Sam. Because this was the kind of thing that could happen to anyone. Except his brother.

Dean's head was hitting the hard floor rhythmically. That couldn't be good. Sam needed to move. Dean needed him. Dean needed him and he had turned into a statue. A statue with tears streaming down his eyes. He knew what this might be. He had seen it once at school. He thought the word was "seizure." It had been terrifying at school, but nothing compared to the terror of seeing this happen to the person he loved the most. How does a cold make someone have a seizure?

He managed to unfreeze... but not to help Dean. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to run away. And he didn't even know he was doing it when he realized he had bumped into something while stepping back. It wasn't "something." It was "someone." Dad. Oh God. Thank you. Dad is here.

— Dad...

But John simply walked past where Sam was. His focus was on Dean, who was still convulsing on the bathroom floor. Realizing this, Sam stopped moving. Dad hovered around Dean and then stopped. Just like Sam. But John snapped out of his stupor quickly, unlike Sam.

John shouted something. Not at Sam. He was shouting his brother's name. Sam cried. Dean groaned. John shouted.

Everything was so strange. Sam felt distant from it all. Everything was so unreal. Dad held Dean in his arms in a way Sam had never seen. Dean looked way too small. He wasn't supposed to be like that. Suddenly, Sam realized John was looking at him. Shouting at him.

— Sammy! Sam? Listen to me. Dean needs a hospital NOW!

Dad grabbed a blanket from the room and wrapped Dean in it. When he moved Dean's head, Sam saw there was blood on his nose and mouth. More fluids coming from Dean.

Despite the urgency, Dad held Dean with such care and gentleness that it scared Sam. He had never seen Dad do that with Dean. Never seen Dad talk to Dean so gently as if he were a child. Sam had never realized that Dean was a child. And that broke his heart into more pieces than it was already broken.

He wished he had told Dean that he loved him. Loved him so much. He didn't think he had said it. He needed Dean to know. As soon as he woke up, he would make sure he knew. He would tell Dad that he should do the same. Because now it was clear how much John loved Dean. Sam was afraid that Dean didn't know that.