Hi guys! Hope everyone is doing well. This was a request by kwayday for a comfort fic with fevered Sam, def a favorite trope of mine. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave more suggestions and recommendations; I'm open to just about anything (as specific or as vague as you want)!

scootersmom: I couldn't agree more! I'm a sucker for chick flicks :) Thank you!

Aurora nebula slumber: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like it and hope you continue to enjoy! :))

The motel room is dimly lit, heavy curtains blocking out most of the morning light. Dean glances over at Sam, who is sprawled out on one of the beds, his face flushed with fever. Sweat clings to his hair, and his breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. The sight of Sam this sick twists something deep in Dean's gut. A virus isn't exactly something he can gank and be done with it.

"Hang in there, Sammy," he mutters under his breath as he grabs a clean washcloth from the bathroom and soaks it in cold water before wringing it out. Returning to Sam's side, he gently places the cool cloth on his brother's forehead.

Sam stirs at the touch, his eyes fluttering open. "Dean...?"

"Yeah, it's me," Dean says softly with a concerned tone. "You with me, man?"

Sam blinks and attempts to focus on his brother's face. "Feel like crap," he croaks, the words barely a whisper.

"I know. You're burning up." Dean reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a glass of water and a couple of fever-reducing pills. "Here, you need to take these."

Sam tries to sit up, but his limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. Dean quickly slips an arm behind his shoulders to help him into a sitting position. "Easy, I've got you."

He manages to swallow the pills with a few sips of water, then sags back against the pillows, exhausted by the effort. Dean pulls the blankets up around him and makes sure he's comfortable.

"Thanks," Sam mumbles, his eyes already starting to close again.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed and eyes his brother with a worried expression. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy," he says quietly, more to reassure himself than anything. "Just need to ride this out."

The hours drag on, and he stays by Sam's side, keeping a watchful eye on him. He changes the cool cloth on Sam's forehead regularly, coaxing him into drinking water, and monitoring his temperature. The fever remains stubbornly high, and Sam's condition seems to worsen. He tosses and turns restlessly, murmuring incoherently in his fevered state.

"You're gonna be okay," Dean repeats softly, gripping his hand. "I'm right here, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

Sam's eyes flutter open briefly, glazed with fever. "Dean. Don't leave-"

"I'm not leaving, Sam," Dean says firmly. "I promise. Just try to rest, okay?"

Sam gives a weak nod, his eyes slipping shut once more. Dean stays by his side, watching over him as the hours tick by. He thinks back to when they were kids, how he had always been the one to take care of Sam when he was sick or hurt. It was a role he had taken on without question, and one he would never abandon.

A faint smile tugs at Dean's lips as he remembers a time the younger Winchester had come down with a particularly nasty flu when they were teenagers. Their dad had been on a hunt, leaving Dean to play nurse. He had tried his best, but his attempts at making soup had been laughable at best. Sam had choked it down with a grimace, but Dean's heart had swelled with pride at being able to help his brother in some small way.

"You always were a stubborn one," Dean mutters, looking down at Sam's flushed face. "But you always pull through. You're a fighter, Sammy."

As the night wears on, Dean fights against his own exhaustion, determined to stay awake and vigilant. He dozes off a few times, only to jerk awake at the slightest sound or movement from Sam. His back aches from sitting in the same position for so long, but he refuses to leave his brother's side.

Eventually, with dawn beginning to break, Sam's fever spikes even higher. He shivers violently, and his teeth chatter despite the sweat soaking his clothes. Dean's heart races with panic. "Come on, Sam, you gotta fight this," he pleads, his voice cracking.

Sam's breathing becomes more labored by the minute, each inhale a struggle. Dean grabs his phone, ready to call for help as a last resort when he feels Sam's hand weakly grip his arm. "Dean, stay..."

Jesus. It's almost like the kid can read his mind.

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean says, his voice choked with emotion. "Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

Sam's eyes open, glassy and unfocused.

Dean says, tears stinging his glossy orbs, "You're gonna be okay. I promise." He isn't usually this emotional, especially about something as miniscule as a fever. But God, he's worried.

As the minutes tick by, Sam's fever finally starts to break. His breathing evens out, and the violent shivering ceases. Dean lets out a small sigh of relief, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

Sam stirs, his eyes opening slowly. "Dean...?"

"Hey, Sammy," He says, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "How you feeling?"

"Better," Sam murmurs, his voice still weak but stronger than before. "Thanks for- for taking care of me."

"Always," Dean replies softly. "You scared the crap outta me, you know that?"

Sam manages a faint smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. "Just glad you're okay, man. You had me worried for a while."

Sam's eyes soften as he looks at his brother. "You should get some rest too, Dean."

Dean shakes his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, someone's gotta make sure you don't do anything stupid while you're still recovering."

"Right," Sam says with a weak laugh. "Wouldn't want to do anything stupid."

"Exactly." Dean stands up, stretching out his stiff muscles. "How about I get us some breakfast? You think you can handle some real food?"

"Yeah," Sam says with a small nod. "That sounds good."

Dean pats Sam's shoulder before heading toward the door. "I'll be back soon. Just stay put and rest, okay?"

"Alright," Sam replies, his eyes already starting to drift shut again.

As Dean steps outside, he takes a deep breath of the fresh morning air, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. His brother is on the mend, and that is all that matters.

He returns a short while later with a bag of food, the aroma of fresh coffee and warm pastries filling the room. He sets the bag on the table and walks over to Sam, who is now sitting up, looking a bit more like himself.

"Hey, I got us some breakfast," Dean says, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to the bed. "Figured you could use something solid."

"Thanks," Sam says, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee Dean hands him. He takes a sip, savoring the warmth. "This is perfect."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Dean teases, though his eyes shine with affection. "Soon enough, you'll be back to making your own damn coffee."

"Looking forward to it," Sam replies with a smile.

They eat in companionable silence, the morning sun slowly filling the room with light. Dean keeps stealing glances at Sam, relieved to see the color returning to his cheeks and the strength returning to his voice.

"You know," Dean says thoughtfully, "I've been thinking..."

"That's never a good sign," Sam jokes, earning a playful swat on the arm.

"Seriously," Dean continues, his tone turning sincere. "I know we don't always say it, but... I just want you to know that I appreciate you, Sammy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sam looks at his brother, his eyes filled with emotion. "I appreciate you too, Dean. More than you know."

They share a silent moment of understanding. No matter what lies ahead, they will face it together, side by side.

As the morning wears on, Dean helps Sam get cleaned up and dressed, making sure he takes it easy. They pack up their things, preparing to hit the road again. The next hunt will always be there, but for now, their priority is each other.

Dean glances over at Sam as they load their bags into the Impala. "You ready to roll, little brother?"

Sam nods, a determined look in his eyes. "Ready."

Dean grins and claps him on the back. "Let's get out of here."

They climb into the car, the familiar rumble of the engine filling the air. As they drive off into the morning light, Dean feels a renewed sense of purpose. Whatever challenges await them, they will face them together. Because family is everything, and nothing will ever change that for the Winchesters.