Note: I wrote this for a fic challenge on tumblr with the wonderful singer-at-heart (both our tumblr accounts are linked in my profile). Enjoy!

It was a hot day. No cases, no hunts, no leads. Sam sighed and shut his laptop, exhausted from staring at the screen for so long. He got up from his place at the map table and went into the kitchen to get a cold drink of water. He wiped his forehead as he took a long swallow. It was hot. He had noticed it had gotten abnormally humid inside the bunker in the past hour compared to how cool it usually was. Setting the glass down on the counter, he walked to the garage in search of his brother.

"Dean?" Sam heard a grunt as he entered the room, Dean apparently had hit his head on something behind the Impala. He stood up, rubbing his scalp and walked over to where Sam was by the door.

"Hey. Find us a case?"

"No, nothing. Everything's been freakishly silent." Sam shrugged and looked over at the Impala. "So, whatcha doing?"

"Oh, just changing her oil and making sure everything's running smoothly." Dean grinned. "What happened to you? Something been chasing you?" He asked upon noticing how sweaty Sam was. Even his shirt was soaked through.

"Oh, no.. I was just.. it's really hot." Sam said, once again wiping his forehead.

"Hot? You're not the one working on the car." Dean huffed in fake annoyance.

"I'm serious, Dean. I think the air conditioning is broken or something."

The older man gave his brother a confused look and proceeded to walk inside the bunker to feel for himself.

Upon entering, Dean noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The temperature was no different than it had always been. Concern etched on his face, he turned back around toward Sam who had followed him in.

"Dude, it feels fine in here. It actually feels great." Dean relished in the coolness for a minute. Working on Baby was tiring. He waited for Sam's reply, but his brother simply stared at him blankly for a moment while attempting to catch his breath.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean questioned, searching for some sort of clarity as to what was happening.

"I don't…" Sam spaced out for a minute. He tried to focus on the other hunter but it seemed as if everything around him was slowly spinning. He wavered, trying to take hold of a nearby chair, but slipped and fell to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean noticed his brother's far off gaze and quickly realized what was going on.

He ran up to the wavering man, awkwardly trying to catch his sasquatch of a brother on his way down.

"Damnit, Sammy." Dean felt his brother's forehead and frowned.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a freakin furnace?" He grumbled as he half-carried, half-dragged his little brother down the hall.

Dean lugged the six-foot-four frame into his own bedroom, it was closer and more comfortable than Sam's.

As he cautiously placed his brother onto the mattress, slowing his descent and swinging his feet up, he made a mental note to go pick up some memory-foam for Sam's bed.

"Alright buddy, let's get you cooled down. Fast." Dean added as he slid his palm across his brother's sweat-soaked forehead.

The older hunger jogged to the kitchen, returning a moment after with a bowl of cold water, a facecloth, icepacks, a hand towel, a bottle of water, and Tylenol.

He placed the supplies on the side-table and pulled a chair up beside the bed. Next, he unbuttoned Sam's over-shirt, haphazardly tugging it off the younger man's lanky body, leaving the t-shirt on underneath.

"Let's bring that temperature down." Dean muttered as he soaked the facecloth and dragged it over the heated man's face.

He left the chilled cloth resting on his little brother's forehead and reached for the icepacks, placing one under each of Sam's armpits. Dean soaked the hand-towel in cold water before sliding it behind his little brother's neck and letting it drape across his shoulders.

"That should do the trick." He commented, re-wetting the facecloth and lazily running it over the contours of Sam's face.

"How the hell did you spike a fever this bad in such a short period of time dude? I mean you were fine this morning." Dean mused in frustration.

"Then again, that was like, what? Four hours ago. I should have come to check on you sooner. Since the second trial you've been, well, pretty messed up."

Dean frowned as he proceeded to wipe the glistening sweat from his little brother's skin. He hated himself for not being able to protect Sam, for putting him through the trials to begin with. That was what he had been thinking about all morning while he was working on the car. He had been hoping that spending time under the Impala's hood would be able to take his mind off his failure and how his little brother was paying for it.

Dean couldn't get over the fact that, had he not screwed up the first trial, it would be him suffering now, instead of Sam. Even spending time with his baby hadn't done shit to take his mind off the truth or their current reality.

Sam was the one stuck doing the trials. He was sick and struggling.

There was no running from that.

"I should have come to check on you sooner." He repeated bitterly.

"Not your fault."

Dean pulled the cloth from Sam's face upon hearing the soft phrase.

The younger hunter cracked his eyes open, squinting, struggling to focus on the figure he knew to be his brother leaning over him.

He registered Dean's attempt at a smile, about the same time as he was overwhelmed by the heat he could feel coursing through his veins.

He hadn't really heard his big brother's words, but he knew that tone; and he knew that Dean was blaming himself for something.

Sam also didn't really know where he was. The bed felt comfortable, more so than any other bed he ever remembered sleeping in. He didn't remember what had happened, but he felt hot, very hot, like he was boiling from the inside-out. He didn't know why, but he did know that Dean was with him, and he would make it all better.

He always made everything better.

"Hey buddy. How you feeling?" Dean questioned, smoothing his brother's hair further off his face as he bent down over him and waited for those wandering hazel eyes to focus.

"Li-Like I'm on fire." Sam groaned.

"Yeah, I know dude. Don't worry, I'm already on it. You should be feeling less like a roast any time now."

Sam twitched a smile at his brother's reassurance and nodded his head in response.

"Here. Take this." Dean instructed, waiting for Sam to open his mouth before dropping two Tylenol pills inside.

He then helped his sibling sip the water to chase the meds down.

"Slow sips Sammy, slow sips." He reminded the younger man as he started to greedily guzzle the liquid.

Dean pulled the bottle away as his brother began to cough, wiping up the water that leaked from the corners of Sam's mouth with his sleeve.

"Take it easy buddy, take it easy." He encouraged.

Sam's hacking faded off and he was left tiredly staring up at Dean, who had returned to sliding the cool cloth over his face.

He sighed, revelling the feeling of the cold moisture that was infiltrating his heated skin.

Dean chuckled at his little brother's reaction, as he continued with his ministrations.

"I'm sorry Dean."

The older of the two men paused as he stared down quizzically at the other.

"What for?" He asked.

"For getting sick." Sam responded, his face adopting a miserable expression, as though he was disappointed with himself.

"It's not your fault Sam, you know that." Dean commented as he resumed the cooling process.

"Yes it is. I shoulda been more careful." The younger man declared.

"What do you mean more careful?" Dean inquired.

Sam didn't seem to register the question as he continued to speak.

"Do you think Dad will be angry?"

Dean's jaw dropped as he halted his actions.

"What the hell are you talking about Sam?" He burst, sounding almost angry as he stared down in complete confusion at his little brother.

"For getting sick. Cause medicine costs a lot of money and now we have to stay in town longer." Sam explained.

Dean placed a hand on his brother's forehead, his frown deepening at the heat he could feel emitting from it. He added a thermometer do his mental list of supplies to pick up.

Sam must have been hallucinating. His fever was high enough to cause that sort of reaction, and it was the only explanation to his statements.

Dean added two more icepacks to his brother's body and re-soaked the towel around his neck, doubling in his efforts to get the kid's temperature down and hoping the Tylenol would kick in quickly.

"Do you think he'll be mad, Dean?" Sam repeated, his hazel eyes shining with both fever and worry as he stared intently at his big brother.

"No Sammy, of course he won't be mad." The older hunter responded gruffly, deciding to humour the hallucinations rather than try and explain what was really going on to the delusional young man.

Sam relaxed, visibly relieved by the information.

He watched as Dean looked down at him in concern while he continued to cool Sam's face with the cloth.

"I'm sorry Dean." He admitted, with the sincerity of a child.

"Don't be Sammy, you've got nothing to be sorry for. I already told you that, remember?" Dean stated, with the patience of a mother.

"But I shouldn't have walked in the rain. I should have waited for you. I just, I really needed to get to the library before it closed and I didn't know how long you would be. But I should have called you. I shouldn't have walked. I'm sorry." Sam confessed in a slurred, but insistent voice.

The fevered rambling triggered Dean's memory, and had him realizing exactly what situation Sam was currently reliving.

It had taken place when Sammy had been younger, about twelve years of age. He had walked from their motel of the month to the library, which was located across town, in a storm. It had been cold, windy, and rainy, and the kid hadn't even put on a damn coat in his rush to print off his school work before the building closed.

Dean had been out with some girl he had met while they were in town, and had come home to find his little brother just returning from the library, sopping wet and shivering; by the next morning the poor boy was sick as a dog. He had a sore throat, running nose, and one of the highest fevers he had ever had as a child.

With their dad off on a hunt, Dean had looked after the sick kid, and he could now recall how concerned Sam had been in his feverish state, that Dad would be angry with him. The fear was irrational, John had never been cross when one of the boys became ill, but regardless, it still took Dean nearly an hour to assure his little brother that their father would not be at all perturbed by his youngest son's sickness.

Dean could also recall how guilty he had felt. Sam hadn't called him and asked for a ride because when he had done the same thing a week prior, Dean had complained about having to constantly chauffeur the kid around. So, instead of bothering his big brother, the young boy had decided to walk to the library on his own, which resulted in his being ill for the following two weeks.

Dean had felt guilty as hell and had never again whined or complained about driving Sammy around.

"Please don't be mad De-"

The older boy was pulled from memory lane at the soft plea sounding from the young man stretched out on the bed, staring up at him with those damn puppy dog eyes.

His massive body and grown features appeared so much smaller and younger as he impersonated the child he had once been.

"I'm not mad Sammy. Okay? I promise. It wasn't your fault. I should have come to get you." He said, combing his fingers through his brother's hair, the strategy he always utilized when soothing a much younger Sam.

"But you didn't even know. I never even told you I was going." The fevered man declared, adamant about his big brother's innocence.

Dean fondly shook his head, always entertained by Sam's attempts to liberate him of any and all guilt.

"Yeah well, I should have known. And I shouldn't have been a bitch about driving you somewhere when you asked me before."

The younger hunter chewed on his bottom lip, thinking up a response, struggling to find some clarity in his muddled mind.

Dean smirked at the familiar behaviour, just now realizing that even after so many years, his little brother really hadn't changed all that much.

"You weren't a bitch." Sam declared a moment later.

His older brother chuckled at the lame, yet confident response.

"Oh that's right. You're the bitch." He replied playfully.

"Jerk." Sam shot back, his dimples appearing as he smiled up at Dean.

Dean relished in the bright smile and the childish glow of his little brother's face, wishing that once the fever cooled, Sam could remain as content and innocent as he was in that exact moment.

The older hunter sighed, knowing that wasn't the case, and soon Sam would return to normal; and his mind, soul, and body would again be burdened by the weight of the trials.

A weight which he shouldn't have been carrying in the first place.

A weight Dean had been meant to shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Sam questioned, forcing his heavy eyelids open as he stared up at his older brother. He was feeling the fire fading from his veins and longing to give in to his body's cry for sleep, but refusing to until he was positive that Dean was okay.

"Nothing, little brother. I'm fine." He announced, a reassuring grin plastered on his face.

Sam squinted up at his brother, trying to fight back the fog in his mind in order to determine how honest the older boy was being.

"Really Sammy, I'm alright. I think your fever is going down. How about you just get some rest." Dean instructed, placing the back of his palm on his brother's forehead and cheeks, testing his temperature.

"You sure?" Sam slurred, widening his eyes to keep them from closing as he lightly grasped his brother's forearm, searching his expression for the truth.

"Yeah buddy, I'm sure. Now go to sleep." He ordered.

Sam sighed, squeezing his brother's arm before allowing his eyelids to fall closed.

"You've always been way too damn intuitive for your own good." Dean remarked in a hushed tone as he continued to wipe the cool cloth across his brother's face, satisfied that the fever was fading.

Dean cursed himself for ever letting the fever get that bad to begin with.

He would have to be more attentive.

He should have seen the fever coming, he should have monitored Sam more closely.

Who knew what trial was next, and what kind of toll it would take on the kid physically.

Dean had to be prepared.

"I'm sorry kiddo. It should be me in that bed, not you." He confessed in a whisper as he stared down at the sick young man, terrified over what the trials had in store for his little brother.

He felt long fingers latch onto his shirt sleeve, his mind recalling so many times in the past when a sick Sammy had clung to him in that same way.

His little brother's eyes peaked open, screaming in exhaustion but no longer glazed with fever.

"I'm gonna be okay Dean. I can finish the trials. We are going to be okay…" He faded off, sleep grabbing hold of the young man again as his eyes fell closed and his grip on Dean's shirt sleeve eased up a little, but never let go.

Sam fell to sleep knowing that Dean was worried, but he was relieved that it was him going through the trials. Because now he could pay his big brother back for all the times he made everything better for him.

Now it was Sam's turn, to make it better for Dean.

And he would do it.

He would take whatever sickness, pain, or struggle that was headed his way.

He would take it all for Dean.

Because he owed him that much, and more than anything, he needed his big brother to be okay.

"I know Sammy. I know." The older hunter whispered, combing his fingers through Sam's tangled mess of hair as he listened to his brother's breathing even out.

Dean vowed in that moment to do whatever it took to take care of Sam.

He would do more than just pick up memory-foam and a thermometer.

He would do anything and everything to help him gain his health back and complete the damn trials.

Sam was his little brother, and it was his job to take care of him.

It was his job to keep him safe.

And it was the only job that ever mattered to Dean.

Because he could deal with anything, he could handle everything, so long as Sam was okay.

The fact of Sam and Dean's lives, was that more than anything, they needed each other.

And they would do anything to save each other.

You could call it whatever you wanted; unhealthy, twisted, codependent, pathetic, any label you desired.

But in the end, it was simply their reality.

It was the way things were, and the way they would always be.

The End.

Note: Probably my shortest fic ever, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! I would love it if you had a second to comment/review! - Sam