When Sam walked into the room, he saw that Dean was already in bed, buried under the covers.

Slightly unusual, given that it was only early evening, but they were both bone weary tired.

Sam knew that Dean had taken a beating on this last hunt, and while Dean would never say that he was hurting, his actions spoke volumes.

He wondered if maybe Dean was seriously hurt.

His stomach turned over as the beginning of fear and anxiousness settled in.

"Dean, you ok?" he asked quietly.

When he got no reply, Sam walked over to the bed to check on Dean.

Just for his own peace of mind.

He pulled back the comforter ever so gently and placed his palm on the side of Dean's neck.

Heat radiated off him in waves, and Sam knew that this wasn't just exhaustion anymore.

"S'mmy?" Dean mumbled in his feverish haze.

Sam pulled the covers back up over Dean, his knuckles brushing Dean's shoulder ever so lightly as he tucked his big brother in.

"I'm right here Dean, I'm right here."