Title: Role Reversal

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: Set in season 8 after the trials have begun. Dean falls afoul of an insidious plot Hurt!Dean hurt/comfort!Sam *NOT a bodyswap fic

Author's Note: Written for a prompt for Xenascully: You'll find it at the end of the story to avoid spoiling it. :D Again, this is NOT a bodyswap fic.

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "DisasterifficKaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!

~Reviews are Love~
There are so many of you and only one of me. Please know that I see, love and am grateful for each and every review though I may rarely respond. I figure you would rather have me writing than be a slave to my inbox. :D I love you all.

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Sam wandered out of his bedroom, rubbing a hand through his hair and heedless of the state that left it in as he headed for the kitchen and coffee. He smiled as he turned in the door and smelled it already brewing. One of Dean's latest 'nesting' impulse purchases had been a ridiculously large, complicated coffee machine that, among other things, boasted a timer. Dean had said that after everything they'd been through, they deserved to have their coffee brewed FOR them in the morning. Sam chuckled and grabbed a mug from the counter. Dean was discovering a hoarder's love of kitchen gadgets. He poured a cup from the machine and turned to his brother, raising a brow when he came in.

"Morning, Dean," Sam said and held out the mug. "Coffee?"

"Uh…no." Dean put a hand over his stomach and shook his head.

"Still?" Sam asked and sat at the counter while his brother rummaged in the refrigerator for juice. Dean hadn't been feeling well the last few days which was odd all by itself; Dean never got sick. But what was starting to set off the alarm bells in Sam's head was that it was becoming bad enough that he was actually admitting to it.

Dean pulled the bottle of juice from the fridge and groaned at the nearly empty shelves. He hadn't felt like shopping in days, and Sam had been making daily runs for take-out. His stomach rumbled, and he decided today was going to be another of those days. "You're the one who's supposed to get sick, dude," Dean groused and slid onto a stool, resting his head in his hand.

Sam's frown deepened and he leaned over, putting a hand to the back of his brother's clearly flushed neck. "You're running a fever now."

Dean slapped the hand away irritably. "Stop fondling me."

Sam smirked. "Am I this bitchy when I don't feel good?"

"Worse!" Dean proclaimed without pause and then groaned. "Ok, maybe not, but…damn."

"Go back to bed." Sam pulled his brother off the stool, steadying him with a worried hand when he swayed. "Dean, seriously. How bad is this?"

Dean scowled and shrugged. "I feel like hammered crap, man. I'll be fine."

Sam watched him walk away and tried not to worry too much. He just wasn't used to Dean being ill outside of an injury. It threw him off. "Ok, then." He changed his mind on breakfast, poured his coffee into a travel mug along with a shot of vanilla creamer hefty enough that Dean would have gagged at him and headed back to his room to get dressed.

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Sam strode back into the Men of Letters bunker and shifted the bag in his arms. He smiled as he found his brother in the library with his music blaring. "You're feeling better," Sam said over top of the Guns n' Roses.

Dean leaned back from the laptop and shrugged, wiping a hand over his sweating brow. "Not really. Just got sick of being in bed." He eyed the bag in his brother's hands and smirked. "You go to Addie's again?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean." In the last week, Dean had discovered a little bakery in town with, as he put it, the most amazing damn pies ever crafted by man or woman. He was addicted and each time Sam went on a food run, he had to stop and grab one for his brother or face Dean's own version of a bitch-face. "Blackberry today."

"Oh, baby." Dean grinned as Sam set the bag on the table and pulled out the carefully packaged slice of pie. Even his fever and rolling stomach couldn't turn him off Addie's pie.

Sam chuckled and took the bag into the kitchen. He quickly put away the cans of soup and Gatorade he'd bought and headed back out to Dean with one of the bottles. "Got you Gatorade. Thought it might be easier on your stomach."

Dean nodded with his mouth full of blackberry pie. "S'good."

"Dude, you're hopeless." Sam chuckled and sat. "Feel any better?"

Dean polished off the rest of the pie and leaned back with a groan. "No, but my mouth is happy." A wave of weakness came over him and he put a hand over his face that had suddenly become paler than it already had been. "O…ok. Maybe bed."

"Shit, Dean?" Sam was out of his chair in a rush and took his brother's arm, pulling him up. "Come on. Damn." He could feel the fever now in Dean's arm as he steadied him down the stairs and down the hall to his room.

"Just need a…to sleep. I'm ok." Dean groaned as Sam set him on the side of his bed and he rolled into the memory foam weakly while his head spun.

"I don't like this," Sam said softly. He went to the bathroom and wet down a washcloth, brought it back and laid over his brother's fevered brow. Dean managed a soft groan of appreciation that did nothing to allay Sam's growing concern. He went across to his own room and grabbed the chair from his desk, dragging it back and sat next to Dean's bed. Sam wasn't willing to leave him alone like this anymore, and he began to understand just how hard it was becoming for Dean to watch him slowly sicken as the trials progressed.

The following day dawned and found Dean no better and Sam started making calls. After his third discussion with an actual doctor about a run-of-the-mill illness, the humor of the whole thing hit him and he started laughing until he was wiping his eyes.

"Dude, are you high?" Dean asked wearily when he came out of his room wrapped in a blanket and found his little brother laughing to himself.

"Sorry. No. Just…" Sam waved a hand and took a few deep breaths. "All the supernatural crap rolling downhill at us right now, and…you've got the flu. What were the odds?"

Dean smirked in spite of how crappy he felt because it was kind of funny. He dropped into a chair and nodded at Sam's phone. "Who you callin'?"

Sam tucked his phone away and shrugged. "Just trying to find a better way to get you better."

"No damn hospital." Dean leaned over the table and pillowed his head on his arms as it pounded and swam. "S'flu. I'll be fine…few days."

"Right." Sam wasn't sure he agreed, as quickly as this illness had gone from a sniffle to taking his big brother down completely. "I'm gonna go out and pick up a few things. Medicine and stuff, alright?"

Dean groaned. "I'm sick. I can take care of m'self, dude. Go."

Sam stood. "Let's get you back to bed."

"Get myself back to bed. Get off." Dean weakly slapped away the hand Sam put on his arm. His mood was definitely suffering with being sick.

"You whine when you're sick," Sam pointed out with a laugh and grabbed his jacket. "Fine just…try not to break yourself while I'm gone."

Dean snarled at him and waited until he heard the bunker door close before letting his head thunk to the table. "Sick sucks."

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Sam left the diner with two containers of chicken soup and tucked them carefully into the bag with the medicines he'd picked up. He almost went straight past Addie's bakery, but the door opened, bell jingling and the woman herself smiled at him as she stepped out with a broom.

"Afternoon, sweetie!" Addie greeted Sam warmly.

"Hello, Addie." Sam freed a hand and took the one she held out to him.

"Come for more of my pie for that brother of yours?" Addie chuckled and held the door open. "Go on. Go in. Peach cobbler and cherry pie today."

Sam chuckled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Addie patted his stomach as he passed her. "You're not eating my pie, are you boy?"

"Uh, no." Sam laughed.

"Gotta get some meat on those bones. You don't look so good either." Addie waggled a finger at him and went behind the counter.

"Right. I'm, uh…coming down with it too, I guess," Sam floundered for a reason for his own sickly appearance though it was funny, her saying he needed more meat on his bones. Even sickly, he was still more muscle than anything else and twice her height. He smiled when she handed him a bag.

"Gotcha a slice of each in there and…" Addie laid a finger along her nose. "…a cup of my homemade tapioca pudding just for you."

Sam ducked his head with another smile and took the bag. "Thank you, Addie." He went for his wallet but she waved a hand at him. "Keep your money this time. Two sick boys need a little mothering. Go on, now."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam bent impulsively and kissed the top of her head, leaving her chuckling as he went back outside and headed for the car. He sniffed at the bag she'd given him appreciatively and hoped it would cheer Dean up again.

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Dean rolled his head up from the arm of the couch he'd crawled to in the library after Sam left and groaned as he heard the door bang shut. He struggled up until he was sitting and tried not to look as pathetic as he felt. Dean sat up, propping himself in the corner of the couch and picked up the vintage copy of Busty Asian Beauties he'd left out.

"Hey, Sam," Dean greeted when his brother appeared and rolled his eyes at how hoarse his voice had become.

"Dude, I thought you were going back to bed?" Sam held up his bags. "I've got soup, medicine and more of Addie's pie."

"Nice! Bring it on." Dean waved a hand and scowled when Sam shook his head.

"Bed first, Dean. Please." Sam went over to the couch and held out his free hand. Dean was pasty white with two spots of color from the fever riding high on his cheeks. He looked like hell. "Pie in bed."

Dean rolled his eyes, pushed Sam's hand away and levered himself off the couch. "Son'fa…bitch," He groaned when his legs went weak and only Sam's quick grasp of his shoulder kept him on his feet.

Sam escorted his cursing brother back to his room and to his bed; ignoring the curses sent his way as just a symptom of Dean being sick. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up and lay down."

Dean glared up at his little brother. "Think I can't…kick your ass. You are sadly mistaken," He threatened but had to relent when Sam held up a piece of pie. "Kick it later. Gimme."

Sam laughed and set the pie on the table. "Humor me and eat some of the soup first."

"Oh, for..." Dean's glare deepened. "Do I annoy you like this when you're sick? No!"

"Yes." Sam shook his head, smiling and handed over the soup and a plastic spoon. "Dude, you go mama-bear on me when I get a cold and you know it so stop bitching already."

Dean restrained himself from tossing the soup at Sam but only barely. "I do NOT mama-anything."

"Uh huh." Sam sat in his chair and kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed with the other tub of soup.

"Hey!" Dean knocked Sam's feet to the floor with a thump. "Nasty shoes off my bed, bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes and started on his soup. "Jerk." He kept a careful eye on Dean while they ate, pleased when the soup seemed to bring some small amount of color back to Dean's pale skin though the fever obviously didn't leave him. He was clearly sweating and shivering at the same time. Sam managed to eat almost half of his own soup before he had to give up, and even that had been an accomplishment. Food was definitely something he was having more and more trouble with as the trials wore on. He set the container aside and saw Dean do the same. "You can't be done."

"I am if you are," Dean smiled and grabbed the pie container. "Except for pie, that is. Ooh, cherry."

"You know, sometimes I almost think you want alone time when it comes to pie," Sam teased him as Dean took his first bite. "I'll clear this up. Bring you some water." He hastily picked up the soup containers and made his way to the kitchen. Sam hunched over the counter and pressed his mouth into his arm to try and muffle the hacking cough that had almost overcome him in Dean's room. His big brother didn't need to see him coughing up blood right then. The fit finally eased, and Sam sighed with disgust. The sleeve of his jacket was spotted with blood. He slipped it off and tossed it on the counter and turned, swaying unevenly for a moment before he found his balance.

"Dammit," Sam said softly and took a couple bottles of water from the fridge, made sure he didn't have blood on his face and then went back into the bedroom. "Here's your…Dean?" Sam was at the bed in a rush. "Dean!" His brother was slumped over with the half-eaten piece of pie beside him, unconscious and wheezing for breath. "No. Come on, Dean." Sam tossed the pie on the table and sat. He pulled his brother up and supported him against his chest while he shoved pillows behind him and then laid him back to try and ease his breathing. "Dean, please." Sam worked hard to contain his panic and at the same time was trying to decide if he could carry him out to the car to get him to a hospital. Sam slapped the side of his brother's face lightly. "Dean!"

Dean blinked bleary eyes open and scowled. His chest felt tight and Sam's face, so close to his, was lined with fear. "S'mmy?"

"Crap," Sam breathed out in relief. "Just…just try to breathe, alright?"

Dean wanted to push him away, to argue that he was fine, but his limbs felt leaden, his head stuffed with cotton and every breath was a heated struggle in a chest that no longer wanted to expand all the way. "Feel…wrong."

"Yeah. It's gonna be ok," Sam assured him though he no longer felt so sure of that. "You're burning up." He made a mad dash back to the kitchen and hastily filled a bucket with ice water, grabbing a towel before running back. "Dean?" He asked as he sat next to his brother again.

"Still…here." Dean closed his eyes, feeling faint with relief when Sam laid a chilled, wet towel over his forehead. "Shit."

"I don't like this." Sam listened to his brother's labored breathing. "You were doing better. I thought you were…damn." He wrung out the towel and wet it again, letting the iced water run down Dean's neck to cool him further while he thought furiously. This was definitely something more than the flu. Pneumonia maybe? It would explain the sudden difficulty breathing, but for that symptom to come on so suddenly…but what else could it be? Sam put his free hand to his brother's throat, finding the hammering pulse there and it drove his fear up higher. He looked over at the bucket of ice water and his eyes fell on the half-eaten piece of pie and his mind started to make a connection. Sam thought back over the last week to when Dean had begun to feel ill, to each time he had worsened noticeably within the space of an hour or so, and the sudden realization was enough to make him sway dizzily.

"Oh, my God," Sam breathed it and stared down at his brother. "It's Addie." Dean's illness had begun the same day he'd found Addie's bakery, and he had worsened every day only after eating her pie. It was a leap, he knew, but he also knew he was right with complete surety. "Dean? It's the pie making you sick."

"Huh?" Dean got his eyes open with effort and frowned up at his brother. "S'good pie."

"No, dude. Every time you eat it, you get sicker. It's Addie's pie." Sam nodded firmly. "She's poisoning you." He glanced over at the bag and the cup of tapioca with a shiver. "She's trying to poison us both." Each day Sam went to her bakery and each day Addie teased him about not eating her pies and now he knew why. He wrung out the towel and re-wet it again then laid it back over Dean's fevered brow. "I'll be back soon."

"No!" Dean found enough energy to clamp a hand around Sam's forearm as he tried to rise. He wasn't exactly following everything going on, but he knew his little brother was about to go put himself in harm's way alone and that wasn't alright. "Ge'me up. M'comin'."

"Dean, you can't even stand! Lay down." Sam eased Dean back to the bed and freed his arm. "I won't be gone long, but I need to do this. I need to know what she's using if I'm gonna make you better. Look." He ran a hand through his hair while he held Dean down with a hand to his chest. "I'll call Garth, alright? But you're staying right here. Stop, Dean!"

Dean stopped struggling; it was pointless anyway as he hadn't the strength to do more than slap weakly at Sam's arm. He rolled his head angrily. "Don' go'lone. Backup."

"I'm calling Garth. Relax." Sam patted his chest and resettled the towel on his brother's forehead. "I'll be back soon. Promise." Leaving his brother lying in the bed, poisoned and perhaps dying, was one of the hardest things he'd had to do, but he had no choice. Sam grabbed his coat from the kitchen and the keys to the Impala and didn't call Garth. He knew where the Hunter was and that Garth would be near Kevin which meant he was also at least a day away from them, and that was too much time with Dean in his condition. Dean couldn't wait and neither could Sam.

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Sam turned into the back alley behind the bakery, rumbling the Impala to a stop several buildings away in case Addie was used to hearing the distinctive sound of her engine. He eyed the back of the building with a mounting fury that she had poisoned his brother. Sam knew Dean thought this sort of righteous rage was his lone territory, but he was wrong. Dean might not get it, but Sam felt every bit as protective towards him as he did towards Sam, and he was damned if some…whatever she was…was gonna get away with hurting his big brother. Sam climbed out and went to the trunk. He tucked a pistol into the back waistband of his jeans, slid the sawed-off loaded with rock salt into his jacket, pocketed a flask of holy water, and closed the lid, ready for nearly anything he hoped.

"Alright, bitch," Sam growled and stalked to the back door of the bakery. He sincerely hoped that, whatever Addie was, she wasn't human, because human meant pulling his punches. Human meant he had to not kill her where she stood…unless provoked. And, frankly, he was feeling pretty provoked already. Picking the lock on the door took only seconds, and he eased inside to the quiet building. It was early evening and the bakery had closed an hour before. Sam closed the door silently and then stood listening for any sign that she might be in the shop still. He thought that she perhaps lived above the bakery and hoped that's where she was just then. He wanted the chance to search the place first.

Sam took out his gun and a small flashlight and flicked it on shining it around the storage room and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He went to a door across from him and pushed it open into the bakery's kitchen, and his brows rose in surprise. Though there were all the usual things you'd expect in a bakery - ovens, counters, a stove, various kitchen gadgets - there were arcane symbols scrawled on every surface, the ceiling, even several on the floor inlaid into the tile. "What the hell are you, lady?" He actually hoped she was something more than just a witch bitch, because witch meant human, and he was really feeling the need to kill something. He crossed the kitchen toward what looked like an altar with several sealed, metal containers, candles, and a mixing bowl, and beside them, a covered pie. "That looks promising," Sam said softly.

He cried out suddenly as a shock coursed up from his feet to his head and took his legs out from under him. Sam crashed into the floor, body seizing out of his control and realized he'd stepped into one of the inlaid circles. His vision darkened while he couldn't take a breath, and Sam managed to throw himself to the side and out of the circle. The phantom charge stopped and left him gasping on the floor with his entire body aching.

"You think demons are the only ones who can be hurt with 'harmless' circles on the floor?"

Sam blinked to clear his vision as the lights flared to life and Addie stepped into view. His muscles still weren't obeying him, and he struggled to keep his grip on his pistol. "What -" He managed between clenched teeth.

"What am I?" Addie shook her head and smiled. "A harmless poisoner. There I was, happily making people sick here and there, maybe taking a life once in a while…" She kicked Sam's foot, knocking his leg closer to the circle he'd escaped. "…and then what should happen but the brothers Winchester wander into my town. Hunting me was a big mistake, Sam."

Sam shook his head but didn't bother telling her they weren't hunting her. She didn't need to know they actually lived nearby. "Bitch," He muttered instead, wondering how she even knew who they were. Yeah, he knew they were on every demon's radar by now, along with that of lots of the more intelligent monsters out there, but a witch in the middle of small-town USA? Being finally recognized for all you had done over the years was NOT all it was cracked up to be when those doing the recognizing wanted to kill you.

Addie tsked at him and kicked his foot the last inch so it crossed the line of the circle and laughed as Sam howled in pain before rolling clear again. "Bet that hurts like hell, doesn't it, Sam?" She laughed harder. "And you'd know."

Sam panted for breath through the fresh wave of pain and fought to stay focused on her and convince his gun hand to do what he needed it to.

"I recognized your brother the moment he walked into my shop." Addie shook her head. "I thought for sure I was dead, and then…" She laughed once more. "…the idiot was clueless and actually bought one of my pies! Too good to be true, Sam. How could I resist?" She kicked his hip, forcing him to his back and nudged his foot closer to the circle again. "You haven't been eating them though. I'm a little insulted. I'm a damn good cook. Ask your brother."

"S…screw you!" Sam glared angrily up at her while his body continued to twitch with the after-effects of the shocks.

"I'm just going to kill you. Dean's as good as dead by now." Addie grinned widely at the look of fear on Sam's face. "And I know how you Winchesters will give anything to stay together, so let me help you send you to meet him."

Sam watched her take a knife from the counter and stand over him. "No." He twitched his hand around his gun and swung it up with a yell of effort, firing into her chest. She screamed as she fell backward away from him. Sam rolled carefully to his knees, shaking, but kept his weapon trained on her, not trusting that she was dead just yet. He got shakily to his feet, steadying himself on the counter and kicked one of her legs into the circle he'd fallen afoul of. She made no move.

"Ok. Good." Sam took a moment to slump over the counter and get his breath back. He put his gun away and went over to her altar. He went through the contents of the tins, identifying the herbs and minerals and found an incantation inscribed on the pans she used to make the pies as well. Sam took one of the pans and then went to the stove. "Closing time, Addie." He bent and blew out the pilot light then turned the gas on all the burners to full, letting it fill the room as he made his way out. At the back door, he took a lighter from his pocket and lit an apron hanging there as a makeshift fuse then pulled the door closed behind him.

Sam reached the Impala, sliding behind the wheel with a groan of pain and pulled the door shut just as the bakery down the street exploded in flames, lighting the night. He smiled grimly and pulled away.

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Dean fought his way awake again and knew his brother had been gone too long. He rolled out of his bed and thumped to the floor with a groan. He couldn't even stand. "Sam." He used the chair Sam had brought in to his room to drag his resisting body to its feet and staggered for the bedroom door. He was going to kick his brother's ass for going alone as soon as he found him…and as soon as he could stand on his own again. "Shit!" Dean's weak legs went out and he landed on his knees in the hall, coughing hard enough to double him over.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice brought his head up and made him weak with relief. "The hell…d'you go?"

"Crap, take it easy." Sam slid to his knees and caught Dean before he could collapse completely to the floor. "I've got you. Come on."

"You alright?" Dean glared at him and shoved at Sam's jacket, eyes widening when he saw dried blood on his sleeve. "Shit! How bad?"

"What?" Sam looked down and groaned, seeing the dried blood from his coughing fit earlier. "I'm fine. It's nothing." He ignored Dean's repeated attempts to search him and dragged his big brother to his feet. He grunted under Dean's weight as he leaned heavily on him and got him back in his bed.

"Wha' happened?" Dean asked and took a firm hold of Sam's arm when he started to move away. "Addie?"

"Witch. She's dead," Sam said quickly and didn't mention how his entire body was aching thanks to whatever spell form she'd put on the floor. "Didn't have a choice. I think I've figured out how to fix you, though." He smiled to reassure the concerned look on Dean's pale face. "I just need to look up a few things and you need to stay here. "I'll grab the books I need and be right back."

Dean watched while Sam gathered up the pie with a look of anger on his face and could see the tightness around his little brother's eyes that meant 'pain'. Sam wasn't telling him everything and Dean sighed, flopping back into the bed. He'd get it out of him when he felt better. The weakness overtook him again as Sam left the room and he struggled for a full breath hoping that whatever Sam was going to do, he'd do it fast.

Sam went to the kitchen first and threw away the pies, briefly wanting to salt and burn them instead. He smirked at himself and went to the library with the spelled pie pan he'd brought back. It took him only a few minutes to find the books he needed, and he nearly ran back to Dean's bedroom before his brother tried to come looking for him again.

"Dean? How are you feeling?" Sam asked as he sat beside the bed once more.

Dean gave him a disgusted face. "Ham…hammered crap, dude. Remember? What is this?"

"She spelled the pans she cooked the pies in." Dean held up the one he'd brought as he flipped open one of the books and started searching. "I think I need to, uh…" he paused, reading a passage. "…find a counterspell and, well, cook something for you to eat."

"Holy crap," Dean groaned. "No, no, man." He pushed weakly, trying to sit up. "I'll…I'll do it. I've already been poisoned once."

Sam chuckled and absently pushed him back into the pillows. "Stop it. I can follow a recipe."

"No, you really can't." Dean rolled his eyes and subsided as his breath was stolen from him again while his heart pounded. "Might…might wanna h-hurry. Crap," He closed his eyes on a soft gasp while his head reeled and he felt his fever shoot up again.

Sam researched like a man possessed as he watched Dean fail before his eyes. When he finally found what he needed, it took almost more will power than he had to leave Dean alone and struggling to go do what he had to. Sam took one of Dean's pans and said a soft apology as he carved a spell from the book opened on the counter into the bottom of the pan. Fortunately, it didn't matter what Sam cooked, only that it be cooked in the pan at a certain temperature for a certain amount of time. He kept it simple and scrambled some eggs in the bottom of the pan before throwing it in the oven.

Dean was unconscious and barely breathing by the time Sam returned. "Dammit," Sam groaned. He set the pan on the table and sat next to his brother. "Ok, gotta make you eat this, Dean. Sorry if it sucks." He put the pan in his lap, pulled Dean's jaw open, and awkwardly spooned some of the eggs into his mouth. He closed it for Dean and waited. "Come on. Dean, please. You have to swallow. Sam groaned. "Sorry about this." He held Dean's mouth closed and pinched off his nose with his other hand. "Sorry. Come on, please. Please swallow," Sam pleaded softly and let out a rough cheer when Dean reflexively swallowed and started to cough. Sam let his mouth and nose go and held his brother's head. "Dean?"

Dean fought his way up through the fog that tried to hold on to him and blinked to find Sam leaning over him once more. "Sam?"

"Oh, thank God," Sam breathed and grinned as Dean's eyes opened to look at him. He could feel the fever beginning to lessen through his hands on Dean's face. He let go as Dean raised a shaking hand to his head and leaned back. "It's working."

"Why do I taste…crappy, burnt eggs?" Dean asked and opened his eyes to scowl at his brother.

Sam laughed, relieved enough to be lightheaded. "It was the simplest thing I could think of. How's your stomach?"

"Other than the eggs?" Dean groaned and pushed up to sit properly, happy when his body cooperated with him and he smiled. "Better." He brushed a hand over his face. "Damn, it's nice to be able to breathe again," Dean said and took a few deep breaths appreciatively, very happy that, apparently, a small amount of the counterspelled food was sufficient to accomplish the cure.

"Good. You can take a shower." Sam stood and grinned. "You stink, dude." He took the pan and headed out of the room, laughing when a pillow thudded into the back of his head. "You're welcome."

Dean leaned his head down to sniff at himself and grimaced. "Crap. I do stink." He climbed out of his bed, still unsteady on his feet after so many days sick and staggered to the bathroom. He meant to shower quickly but it felt so damn good to stand under his own power, it was a full half-hour before he found his way out again and went in search of his brother. He found Sam where he expected to find him; in the library, bent over a book, and he rolled his eyes.

"Feel better?" Sam asked and looked up as Dean came up the steps.

Dean nodded. "Yep." He cast a critical eye over Sam and sighed. "Better enough to know you're snowin' me on what happened with the witch-bitch and to see that your ass needs sleep. Now."

"No, man. I'm…hey!" Sam protested when Dean simply slapped his book closed and grabbed his arm, yanking him up out of the chair. "You are feeling better."

Dean chuckled and gave him a shove down the hall. "Go. Sleep. I'll cook some REAL food when you wake up." He grimaced. "I can still taste those eggs of yours. Yech."

"My eggs saved your ass." Sam tossed over his shoulder and snorted a laugh.

"Ok, that just sounds wrong," Dean laughed and gave him another push down the hall. "Shut up and go to bed already." He smiled, relieved to be back on his feet and able to make his stubborn little brother take care of himself again.

"No more pie for you for a while, huh?" Sam asked as he turned into his room and rolled onto his bed, not even bothering to take his jacket off, he was that exhausted.

Dean snorted and pulled Sam back up, muscling his jacket off and tossing it on the end of the bed. "Me give up pie? Never happen."

Sam groaned, rolling into his pillow and happy that Dean was there to irritate him. "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sammy." Dean twitched the blanket over his brother's long legs and closed the door on his way out, glad that their world was back the way it belonged again. "Bitch," He said fondly and headed to the kitchen to clean up the mess he was sure Sam had left him.

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The End.

Xenascully's original prompt: Living in the Men of Letters lair now, it's safe to say they get food from the same places every day. There's a witch or some crap working at one of the places Dean gets pie. Slowly he's being poisoned every time he gets pie. Symptoms start piling on. Sam ends up having to go out to get them food and catches on…