Set somewhere during Season 1, 2 or 3. No spoilers.

Someone was talking to him.

He didn't understand the words, and at first he didn't even realize there was sound in this world. He had thought there was nothing but darkness and silence here. But now, sound was slowly coming to him, and with that, so was pain. His back and legs hurt, as were his head and chest.

The muffled voice sounded a little louder, but all remained dark in this world. Dark and cold and confusing.

He suddenly realized that he understood the words that were being said.

"That's it, Sammy," there was a cool hand on his forehead and he leaned into the touch, "Everything is alright. You can wake up now."

He wanted to say his brother's name, ask him to stay close to him and to never leave him alone, but the only sound he could make was a pitiful moan.

"I know, kiddo," Dean answered, "I know."

He fought his eyes and the darkness, not understanding why they didn't want to open. Finally, after several attempts, they cracked open. A blinding light pulsated through his head, making him moan again, louder this time, as he crunched his eyes shut again, moving his head away from the offending light.

"Ssh, Sammy," Dean sounded closer, brushed his hand through his hair again, "Open your eyes, Sammy."

Sam wanted to see his brother, so he fought harder and managed to open his eyes fully, blinking heavily against the painful light. He moved his head and looked for Dean. His brother was fuzzy at first, and he just wouldn't sit still. But after a few more blinks and a few seconds of staring, the two Deans glided into one, relatively sharp and stable one.

"D'n," he mumbled.

"Hey kiddo," Dean leaned back and grinned at him, "How're you feeling?"

Downright awful. But for some reason, he believed that he was doing slightly better now.

"You with me?" Dean asked, standing up and walking away from him. Sam followed him with his eyes. When Dean came back, he had a glass of water in his hand and Sam suddenly realized how thirsty he was.

"Small sips, Sammy," Dean said, as he slid an arm under his back and helped him into a sitting position. He leaned heavily against his brother and drank thirstily, trying to swallow big gulps. Dean, however, didn't like that and took the glass away from him again when he drank too greedily.

"Sam," he warned, "I'm not cleaning up after you if it makes you sick."

He glared at his older brother, but took smaller sips. When Dean pulled the glass away again, he felt slightly better. He sighed in contentment as Dean laid him back down. Everything still hurt and he was still cold, but at least he wasn't dehydrated anymore.

"What happened?" he croaked when he found his voice again.

"It talks," Dean said, amused. He looked tired, Sam noticed. There were dark circles around his eyes and he looked too pale.

"Dean," he just said.

"Sam," Dean answered with a cocky grin, that slowly slid of his face as he ran a hand over his mouth, "You had the flu. It was really bad, Sammy, you were seriously burning up and delusional. No fun."

Sam frowned. He didn't remember that, "How long have I been out of it?"

"Two days now," Dean ran another tired hand over his face, "Almost three."

"Oh," Sam readjusted his position, trying to get comfortable.

"Wow, dude," Dean breathed, "You should take a shower."

"You saying I stink?" Sam asked with a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Dean's eyebrows quickly shot up and down in a mischievous way.

"Jerk," Sam mumbled.

"Bitch," Dean laughed and yawned. Sam frowned in concern.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

"Not much," Dean admitted, "You're a real pain in the ass when you're ill."

"Shut up," Sam mumbled. He pushed himself off his bed. Maybe if he'd taken a shower, he'd feel human again. That would be nice.

"Whoah Sam!" Dean yelped as his knees buckled and Dean had to grab him to keep him upright, "Sit down, you giant clumsy…" Dean kept on muttering but Sam didn't catch the last part of it. There were black spots dancing in front of his eyes and his knees were trembling really badly. He tried to push Dean away as he sat down.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Sure you are," Dean answered, worry etching his face.

"I just got up too fast," Sam pushed off the bed again, "See? I'm fine now."

Dean hovered behind him as he stumbled to the bathroom, ready to catch him if he'd fall again. When he didn't, he smirked at his brother as he sat down on the edge of the bath.

"See," he repeated, "I told you… You can leave now, I don't need help washing my hair."

Dean looked as if he was about to protest, but sighed and slowly walked out of the bathroom, "Yell if you need anything, okay?"

"Dean," Sam said in a serious voice, "I'm fine. Go get some sleep or something."

Dean looked over his shoulder one last time and closed the door. Sam sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. His hand was shaking a little and so were his legs, but he was certain he'd feel tons better after he'd showered. He slowly got up from the rim of the bathtub and let the water run, while slowly stripping out of his clothes. He shivered as the cold air hit his body. He sat down again, waiting until the water was warm enough to get under it. Maybe he should sit down while showering. The good thing about these bathtub-and-shower-in-one things was that he could actually do that if he wanted to. But he didn't really want to sit down on the cold porcelain of the tub. Plus, if Dean came in, he'd never stop making fun of him.

He rested his head against the wall as water travelled down his body. He coughed and rested his hand on his chest when it hurt. He reached for the shampoo and held the bottle over his head, letting the thick substance fall on his hair, while at the same time starting to gentle massage it in.

A wave of dizziness crashed over him and he dropped the bottle. He could see it fall as if in slow motion, until it hit the white porcelain under him with a loud clattering noise, spinning away from him. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself.

The next moment, the world was tilting and the floor rushed up to him. He almost laughed as he saw his foot flying over the rim of the bath, sticking out like it didn't belong to his body.

Dean had been in their room, resting his eyes for a moment when he heard the clatter of the shampoo bottle hitting the floor.

"Sam?" he called and got up from his comfortable position with a tired groan, "Sammy? Are you okay in there?"

A wet slippery noise sounded and the sound of something heavy falling. His eyes widened in fear and he ran to the door, yanking it open.

"God, Sammy," he breathed as he saw his Sasquatch little brother lying in a heap in their bathtub. He rushed towards him and helped him in a sitting position, wiping white shampoo foam out of his eyes. He noticed how much warmer his brother felt again. And he'd thought they'd finally conquered the fever.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" he asked, "Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam sounded so tired, "'m sorry… got a little dizzy…"

"C'mon, let's get you back to bed," he said, gently. Sam shook his head. Dean reached for the fallen shampoo bottle and placed it next to him, before it would drain completely.

"I need… to wash my hair first," Sam spluttered. For a second, Dean thought he was delusional again. He shook his head and sighed.

"Fine, we'll wash your hair and then get you back to bed," he reached for a towel and draped it over his brother's middle, "At least cover yourself a little, okay?"

Sam didn't even smile, staring at his feet. Dean sighed again. He tossed aside his watch and placed his hands on his little brother's head, gently washing his hair. He smiled softly at the sight in front of him. It reminded him of so many years ago, when they'd been little and Dean always had to wash Sam's hair for him. They'd share a bath and his dad would sit next to it, making sure his boys didn't drown while they played in the water, making beards out of foam and splashing each other.

Dean had the sudden urge to plant a kiss on his brother's soapy hair, but he resisted. He didn't think Sam would appreciate it.

"Are you feeling better yet?" he asked softly, taking the shower head out of its holder, "Lean back, rinsing time."

He laid a washcloth over his brother's eyes, just like when they'd been kids and tilted Sam's head back, so the water and soap wouldn't run into his eyes. Sammy was looking so pale.

"Dean," Sam was panting a little, slightly out of breath, "I'm really dizzy, Dean."

"Only a few more minutes, kid," he said, letting the warm water fall over Sam's head.

"Really dizzy, Dean," Sam repeated, sounding like he was on the verge of completely passing out.

"Okay, change of plans," Dean announced. He brought Sam's hand to the washcloth, ordering him to keep it in place. Then, he gently guided Sam's head to his knees, rubbing small circles on the kid's neck, "Deep breaths, Sammy… better now?"

"Better now," Sam whispered.

Dean smiled and continued spraying water over the kid's head, until he was satisfied with the cleanliness of Sam's hair. He turned off the tap and grabbed a clean towel, rubbing it over Sam's hair, making it stick out at odd angles. He grinned at his piece of art. He continued drying his brother's back and chest, until Sam weakly pulled the towel out of his hands.

"I can do it, Dean," he mumbled, blushing embarrassedly. Dean smiled and chuckled softly under his breath. This was not Sam the giant Sasquatch in front of him. This was Sam the little brother. This was his Sammy. He watched as Sam dried himself and pulled the kid to his feet, awkwardly helping him out of bath and into his clothes. Sam's face was beet red by the time Dean had maneuvered him back to bed.

Sam's eyes were drooping while he was watching Dean move around, in search for dry clothes for himself.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," Dean said, placing a hand over his brother's eyes, "It's alright."

Sam closed his eyes and slipped back into oblivion.

Not the best thing I ever wrote, but it was stuck in my head and you know how I get when there's a story stuck in my head.

Reviews are love :)

- Lune x