Author's Note:

I felt like writing a bit more about Sam's recovery from appendicitis. Hope you all enjoy it!

Dean just wanted his brother to wake up.

He knew it may take some time for the anesthesia to wear off enough for Sam to wake, but the older Winchester couldn't help but be impatient.

The hunter looked up at the sound of the door opening and saw a young woman wearing green scrubs entering.

"Hi," the nurse greeted, "I'm Natasha."

"Dean," the hunter replied before turning his attention back to his brother.

As though she knew exactly what Dean was thinking, Natasha spoke from behind him, "Don't worry, the anesthesia affects everyone differently, I'm sure he'll wake up very soon."

Dean nodded and continued rubbing Sam's knuckles with his thumb. He was no stranger to waiting around in hospital rooms for with his brother but he always worried until he saw his sibling's expressive green eyes open once again.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean murmured tiredly, "Haven't you slept long enough?"

There was no response and the older Winchester sighed, he guessed Sam was going to take his sweet, old time coming back to the world of the living.

Standing up and stretching, Dean glanced around the room, wondering if there was a magazine or something nearby that he could read to occupy himself until Sam woke up.

Just as he was heading towards the window at the far end of the room, Dean paused when he heard Sam groan quietly.

"Nnn D'n?"

Within seconds the hunter was at his brother's side, hand reaching out for Sam's.

"Hey," Dean smiled, "Welcome back."

Sam groaned again and his eyes slid open halfway, their green depths dark and slightly wet.

"D-D'n?"

"I'm right here," Dean assured him and rubbed his brother's knuckles.

Sam's eyes opened incrementally wider and rolled in their sockets as he took in the room around him.

"Wh-Where'm I?"

Dean smiled patiently, knowing that his brother was still groggy and fuzzyheaded from the anesthesia.

"The hospital, remember, Sammy? You were puking your guts out in the motel room so I brought you in."

"M'okay?" he asked thickly, his voice tinged with worry.

"Yeah, you're fine now," Dean assured him, "Lay back and rest a bit, let yourself wake up a minute."

Sam did as Dean suggested and closed his eyes again. He still looked peaky, in Dean's opinion, his damp hair sticking to his brow and he still had those red spots on his cheeks but Dean was certain they would pass in time as the fever broke.

Reaching out casually, the older Winchester pressed the red call button hanging beside his brother's bed, alerting the nurse that she was needed.

Natasha appeared within moments. Standing in the doorway, she looked between the two brothers.

"Yes? Do you need anything?"

"Sammy's awake," Dean told her, smiling.

As if on cue, his brother opened his eyes and Natasha nodded, "I'll let Dr. Timmons know."

Dean nodded and turned back to his brother.

"W-Water," Sam said, his eyes big as saucers, telling Dean he was still out of it.

"Okay, Sammy," the older Winchester replied, "Just wait until the doctor gets here and then I'll get you something to drink."

Sam nodded, gaze travelling around the room again, the fingers of his right hand reaching out as though of their own accord to touch the double IV lines trailing from his left hand.

Dean looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and smiled as elderly Dr. Timmons entered the room, followed by Natasha.

"Hello Sam," the doctor said as he stepped up beside the bed, "How are you feeling"

"He's still a bit groggy," Dean told Dr. Timmons as Sam's gaze fell on the old man.

"Tired… Thirsty…" Sam replied and the doctor nodded.

"I'm going to check your blood pressure," Dr. Timmons told the young man and reached out to take the blood pressure cuff from where it hung on the wall beside the bed. Dean watched as the senior doctor pushed up the sleeve of Sam's hospital gown and wrapped the blue cuff around his brother's upper arm, using one hand to squeeze the black rubber bulb while the other pressed the end of his stethoscope to the inside of Sam's elbow.

After a minute or so of looking pensive, Dr. Timmons removed the blood pressure cuff from Sam's arm and replaced it on the wall.

"Blood pressure is 110/78," Dr. Timmons told Natasha and the nurse nodded, writing the number down on Sam's chart.

"Natasha, call a couple of nurses from the ward to come down and collect Mr. Winchester," the old doctor instructed, moving away from the bed.

"Right away, Doctor," Natasha said and left the room.

"The nurses upstairs will take care of your brother," Dr. Timmons told Dean, "If you need anything, just ask them."

The hunter nodded and watched the old man shuffle out of the room.

Turning his attention back to his brother, Dean brushed Sam's bangs away from his brow, pressing his palm to his sibling's forehead as he did so.

"De'n," Sam muttered, his tone irritated.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean smiled, "Force of habit."

Both Winchesters looked up as Natasha re-entered the room, "A couple of nurses will be here in a few minutes to take you upstairs."

Dean nodded and thanked the young woman.

"Can we get some water?" he asked, "My brother's thirsty."

Natasha nodded and left the room once more. Dean leaned back on the stool, feet planted flat against the floor to prevent himself from rolling away, and stretched with his arms over his head.

Sam, watching his brother, tried to emulate the action, only to curl in on himself, gasping in pain.

"Shit!" Dean swore and reached for his brother, pulling him up, trying to peer into his sibling's face.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, "Sam, you can't do that, the stitches-"

Sam though was nodding, his eyes red-rimmed, his face pale. Again, Dean placed his palm to his brother's brow and frowned at how warm his sibling's skin still felt.

Turning in his seat as the nurse appeared again, holding a plastic water pitcher and matching cup, Dean spoke to her, "Sammy's still pretty warm… is that normal?"

Setting the cup and pitcher aside, Natasha took a plastic-wrapped and sterile thermometer from the nurses' desk and approached the bed.

"Open your mouth," Natasha instructed- Sam did so- and placed the end of thermometer in the patient's mouth, beneath his tongue.

Dean waited anxiously as Natasha watched the red line inside the thermometer rise.

After carefully pulling the thermometer out of Sam's mouth, Natasha looked at it for a moment.

"Hm," she murmured and Dean's heart skipped a beat.

"What's wrong?"

"Your brother's temperature is still a bit high," Natasha told him, "But that's nothing to worry about. With the antipyretic the fever should go down soon."

Dean nodded, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye.

Twin sets of footsteps announced the arrival of the two nurses who were to bring Sam upstairs. They both greeted the Winchesters in a friendly manner before getting to work. Dean stood aside as the two women prepared to take Sam upstairs; one unlocking the brakes from the bed and the other taking hold of the IV pole.

While one nurse walked at the head of the bed, pushing it forward, the other stood on Sam's left side, guiding the wheeled IV stand and Dean took position on his sibling's right.

They walked down the far end of the hallway, towards the elevators, the nurse holding Sam's IV pushing the red upward-facing arrow button. Dean squeezed into the open lift, standing between Sam's bed and the back wall of the elevator. Both nurses waited patiently for the doors to close, looking as though this was the most exciting thing to happen to them this evening.

One woman was a paunchy-middle aged lady with sandy-coloured hair and faded blue eyes; she wore plum scrubs while her partner was many years younger, with platinum blonde hair and grey eyes. The younger nurse had dressed herself in sky blue scrubs.

The blonde nurse caught Dean's eye and smiled at him, showing off a row of straight, bleached-white teeth. The hunter, not in the mood to hit on his brother's nurse, gave her a polite smile before looking away.

The elevator ceased its ascent and the doors opened to reveal a corridor that looked pretty much like the hallway they had just left except for the fact that the tiled floor was now blue instead of green.

The two nurses guided the bulky hospital bed out of the elevator with practiced ease, Dean following along, eyes glued to his brother.

W

The hunter let out a sigh of relief once Sam was settled into his new room.

Before they had left, Dean had asked the nurses if he could have some water for his brother. The pretty blonde nurse had nodded and brought in a plastic pitcher and cup that looked exactly like the ones Natasha had.

Taking the cup and pitcher gratefully, Dean poured his brother a generous amount of water, which Sam gulped down greedily, smacking his lips once he'd had his fill.

Now Sam's thirst was slaked, he was a bit more lucid.

"What happened?" he asked, "Why am I in the hospital?"

"What do you remember?" Dean asked and he realized that was the wrong thing to say because Sam's eyes widened.

"I… I don't know… that Chinese place… but-"

Dean held his hands up, "Whoa, whoa, its okay, Sammy, its okay. Sorry. You were really sick earlier… throwing up… and I brought you into the hospital 'cause you were spiking a fever as well and your stomach was all swollen, too. You thought it was food poisoning."

Sam frowned, "What's wrong with me?"

Dean shook his head, "Nothing… anymore. It was your appendix."

Sam looked up at him, his eyes still wide but not longer panicked. Raising his hands, the younger brother pushed the blanket down and grabbed the hem of his hospital gown, dragging it up to reveal his abdomen wrapped in clean, white bandages to cover the four-inch long incision the doctor had made in order to removed the infected organ.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked once Sam had shoved the gown back down.

"Tired… Sore…" Sam muttered, blinking his eyes, "Crappy."

Dean nodded, "Why don't you try and get some rest, Natasha- one of the nurses- said you still have a bit of a fever."

Sam closed his eyes, let out a long breath and appeared to fall asleep within seconds.

Once Dean was certain his brother was fast asleep and unlikely to wake up, he stood and stretched, deciding that he could use a cup of coffee.

The hunter quietly left the room, silently telling his brother he'd be back soon, and went in search of a cafeteria- or whatever passed for one in this tiny hospital.

SPN

Sam peeled his sticky eyelids open, his eyes feeling itchy and gritty. Bright white light sliced into his eyeballs, making him groan in pain and he raised an arm to hide from the intrusion.

"D'n," Sam grunted, his mouth as dry as sandpaper, his brain feeling as though it had been replaced with cotton.

The young man waited for a response from his sibling but none came.

"D-D'n?" Sam called again, his heart beginning to pick up speed.

Where was his brother?

Lowering his arm from his face, Sam opened his eyes a crack, trying to catch sight of his sibling.

Dean wasn't there. Dean was gone. Sam was all alone.

Heart pounding like a jackhammer, the younger Winchester struggled to sit up, gasping at the pain that flared up in his abdomen as he moved.

"D'n!" Sam called out loudly, confused and scared.

Where was Dean? Where was he? Why did his stomach hurt?

"Hey! Hey! Hey!"

Sam froze at the sound of a familiar voice and almost let out a sob of relief when he felt his brother's strong, calloused hand grip his shoulder.

"Sammy," Dean's voice murmured, "It's okay, dude. You're okay."

"Where-" Sam began and flinched when he felt Dean press a rough palm to his brow.

"Damn it," Dean swore, brushing his bangs away from his forehead.

"Is something the matter?" a strange female voice asked from some distance away and Sam struggled to open his eyes that didn't want to cooperate.

"His fever's worse," Dean's voice announced, edged with concern and Sam heard the woman tsk before speaking again.

"I'll tell Dr. Timmons right away," she said and Sam leaned back as her footsteps faded.

"Sam," Dean's voice said and the young man felt a hand on his arm again, "Sammy, hey, can you open your eyes for me?"

Slowly Sam did as his brother asked, prying the gunky lids apart to peer blearily at his sibling. Dean's face hovered close to his, mouth pulled down and eyes narrowed in concern.

"D'n," Sam muttered and shivered, a chill suddenly passing through him.

Dean rubbed Sam's arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry," he soothed, "Dr. Timmons will be here in a couple of minutes."

In the distance, Sam could hear approaching footsteps and he whimpered, suddenly afraid though he wasn't sure why. He just felt so bad and wanted Dean to make him feel better, not some stranger.

"Get me a thermometer!" Sam heard a reedy male voice bark and he rolled his eyes up to his brother's face, seeking security.

"It's just the doctor, Sammy," Dean told him, reassuringly.

Sam stared wide-eyed as an elderly man loomed over him; a chubby nurse coming to stand beside the senior citizen Dean had called 'doctor'.

"De-" Sam began but his brother's name was cut off as the woman stuck a thermometer into his mouth.

Sam, unable to speak, rolled his eyes to the side to stare at his brother as the doctor took hold of his arm and wrapped it in a blood pressure cuff.

Dean grimaced and squeezed Sam's shoulder.

Once both the thermometer and cuff were removed, the doctor spoke again.

"I'm going to up the dosage of his antipyretic," the doctor explained, "Patty, keep an eye on him, would you?"

"Yes, Dr. Timmons," the nurse's voice replied.

"Get some rest, Sammy," Dean murmured, "I'll be right here."

Although Sam was reluctant to close his eyes again- Dean might disappear- a wave of exhaustion crashed over the young man and he was pulled into unconsciousness once again.

SPN

Dean sipped nervously on his lukewarm coffee, unable to take his eyes off his brother.

Now he was afraid to leave Sam's side, even to get more coffee, in case his sibling woke again and panicked upon finding him missing.

The older of the two nurses who had brought Sam up from recovery- Patty- appeared every fifteen minutes or so, checking her patient's blood pressure and writing it down on his chart.

Dean hoped that the new medicine Dr. Timmons prescribed would bring his brother's fever down. Appendectomies were supposed to be pretty cut-and-dry as far as operations went, weren't they? Not like brain surgery or something.

But of course, Dean should have remembered, that nothing was routine when it came to his brother.

"Ah, Sammy," Dean murmured, "Can't even have a simple stay at the hospital, can you?"

W

"D-De'n?"

The hunter looked up to see two green eyes peering tiredly up at him.

"Hey Sammy," Dean greeted, "How're you feeling?"

Better, he hoped.

Sam lifted one shoulder, "Am I… at the hospital?"

"Yeah," Dean informed him, repeating the explanation yet again, "Your appendix tried to kill you."

"Oh," Sam muttered mostly to himself, "That's why I was feeling like shit earlier."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief to hear his brother speaking coherently and resisted the urge to feel Sam's brow.

Sam frowned and shifted uncomfortably on the bed and Dean was instantly alert.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone concerned.

Sam nodded, "How long have I been here?"

Dean glanced down at his watch, "Almost six hours."

Sam heaved a sigh and flopped back against the hospital mattress.

"Don't get too eager to leave," Dean told him, trying to hide a smirk, "You still have a while to go until you're a free man."

Sam groaned and closed his eyes, draping an arm across his face.

SPN

"You sure you don't need help?" Dean asked as Sam stood shakily, one hand gripping the metal IV pole on wheels tightly.

Sam shook his head, "I'm fine, Dean."

"If you're sure," his brother replied, backing away but alert.

Sam took a few steps, his bare feet on the cold tile floor sending chills up his legs but he pressed on, it wasn't far to the bathroom and he was not going to use the bedpan Dean had spied moments ago and suggested he take advantage of.

Slowly Sam crossed the room, arriving at the door to the bathroom and paused, breathing heavily, his abdomen sore from the movement.

Reaching out with his free hand, the young man gripped the doorframe as he rested; feeling exhausted even though he'd only walked a few feet.

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

Sam jumped at his brother's voice right behind him.

"No, Dean," he growled, "Let me do this on my own."

"Okay…" Dean hesitated, "You just look like you're about to faint."

Sam shook his head, released his grip on the doorframe and shoved his long bangs away from his forehead.

He crossed the threshold of the bathroom and slammed the door in his brother's face, telling Dean he had better not try and barge in.

SPN

Dean retreated back to the bedside, waiting anxiously for his brother to emerge from the facilities.

He was glad that his brother was awake and that his fever was finally going down. He just wished he could have his clingy brother back and not this bitchy one.

Dean looked up as Patty stepped into the room, peering around for her missing patient.

"He's in the bathroom," Dean told her and she smiled, looking relieved.

"Good," she said, "He should be able to go home soon."

Dean nodded, knowing Sam would be happy to hear that.

His attention turned to the bathroom when the door eased open and Sam stood in the doorway, his face an unhealthy shade of green.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed and stood up, ready to run to his brother's aide.

Sam held out the hand that wasn't white-knuckling the IV pole, "M'okay, Dean. Just stood up too quickly."

Dean ignored is brother and approached, draping Sam's arm across his shoulders.

Patty, the nurse, looked alarmed but when she moved to help, Dean shook his head, "I've got him."

Slowly, the older Winchester led his sibling back to bed, helping him onto the mattress before pulling the blanket up to his brother's chin.

Once in bed, Sam's colour began to return to normal- which was of great relief to Dean- and the nurse finally approached, checking the young man's blood pressure, as she'd been about to do when she first arrived.

W

Dean couldn't help but smile as Sam walked out the hospital's sliding glass doors, slightly hunched over but otherwise no worse for wear.

Bright afternoon sunlight shone down on the brothers as they headed towards the Impala.

"Hold up a minute, Sam!" Dean called and his brother paused, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy.

"It's not like they're going to stop us and drag you back," Dean told his brother and Sam nodded.

"I know," Sam muttered. Dean smiled. He knew Sam disliked hospitals and didn't blame him but he also didn't want something to happen to land his brother into one again so soon.

Dean caught up to his sibling and put an arm over his shoulders, "Why don't you lie down in the back for a bit?"

Sam opened his mouth, perhaps to argue and tell his brother that he was fine, but then nodded.

"Sure, Dean."

Once the brothers were settled, Sam curled up on the Impala's bench seat and Dean behind the wheel, they headed out of the parking lot, ready to make one quick stop at the motel to grab their stuff and check out before hitting the road again.

Dean didn't say anything but he had a destination in mind; they hadn't been to Bobby's in a while and with Dr. Timmons' warning to take it easy for the next two or three weeks, the older Winchester couldn't think of a better place to crash while Sam recuperated.

The older sibling smiled to himself and even turned down the volume on the radio so that Sam could get some much-needed rest during the drive to Sioux Falls.

Author's Note:

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