A cool hand on his forehead brought him back to awareness.

He felt hot and even his hair ached. It took him some time to open his bleary eyes.

"S'my?" Dean blinked furiously to clear his blurry vision.

"Yeah, it's me. Geez, Dean you're burning up. Why didn't you say that you were feeling that bad?" Concern and a slight note of anger were obvious in Sam's voice.

"Wouldn't have changed anything." Dean muttered hoarsely, eyes sliding close again. A shiver ran through his body and he tried to curl even more into himself.

Without a word the hand vanished from his forehead.

And here we go again. Dean waited for another angry protest or the banging of the door. But the silence that now filled the room was even more disturbing. Alone.

Suddenly something cold was pressed against his brow, pulled him back to alertness.

"Uh?" Dean jerked away from the touch.

"It's okay. It's just me. We hafta get the fever down. Sleep, I'm not going anywhere."

Dean relaxed slowly.

Maybe, just maybe, the bond between the two of them wasn't beyond repair yet. Maybe Sammy still had his back.

End

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