Chapter Text
When morning shone through the thin curtains of the cheap motel room, the family took their time to wake.
John was the first to wake, actually being conscious a little bit before the sun beamed in. He didn't get out of bed just yet, remaining still for the sleeping Sam still in his arms. Eyes closed, cheek pressed against John's shoulder, squishing his face and forcing his lips to sit slightly parted, his tongue nestled between his teeth.
John huffed, trying to force his eyes not to water. He missed the little boy he had failed. The little boy he never paid enough attention to. The little boy that was now a man. A good man. A better man than his father ever was, even before his life crashed down.
He sighed and turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, waiting silently in the still sleeping room.
Mary was the second to wake, gently getting herself out of bed as she rubbed her eyes. She looked up sluggishly, noticing her husband's eyes on her. They both smiled at each other.
"Good morning" Mary whispered.
"Mornin'" John rasped, hyperaware of the ear pressed against his chest.
Mary's gaze moved down to Sam, smiling fondly at him. Sammy was always a cuddly baby, preferring to sleep on his parents' chests over anywhere else. She took a deep breath and sighed, turning away to look back at the oldest still curled up with his back to her. She reached over and gently rested her fingers against Dean's forehead. Her brow furrowed. Not only was he not any cooler than last night, but he also appeared to be warmer than last night.
Mary looked back at John, who had his head tilted to silently question the action.
Mary sighed "I think he has a fever" she whispered.
John's brow furrowed as well, eye's drifting to Dean's sleeping form "maybe that's why he's been so tired" he whispered back.
Mary hummed in consideration as she looked back at Dean.
Dean was the next to wake. Only because after Mary fetched the thermometer, she took hold of his shoulder and gently shook him awake.
Dean groaned and forced his eyes opened, turning over slightly to pout at his mother.
"What?" He croaked, his freckled cheeks were even more visibly flushed.
"I want to check your temperature Dean" she whispered, showing the thermometer.
Dean huffed, shutting his eyes and rolling back over.
"Ah uh" Mary scolded, pushing his shoulder back into the mattress to hold him on his back "come on. Sit up a little" she said, face stern but still flushed with concern.
Dean groaned and covered his face with the back of his hands, knuckles lightly pressed into his eyes.
"Dean, listen to your mother" John ordered, voice harsh and deep with disuse.
"I'm not a fucking child" Dean grumbled, stretching a little as he ducked away from his mother and rolled over, sitting back against the edge of the bed and standing. He stretched his arms above his head as he wandered off to the bathroom.
"Dean" Mary pleaded, standing up to follow him.
"M'fine" he mumbled harshly, taking hold of the door's handle as he stepped past the threshold.
Sam was the last to wake, jolting awake when Dean slammed the bathroom door. John held him tighter when he felt him flinch, brow furrowing as Sam's head snapped towards the loud sound.
Sam quickly settled himself and ran a hand down his face and through his hand as he sat up, sliding out of his father's arms. Once he was up, John got into a sitting position of the side of the bed, looking over at Mary who was focused on the now shut bathroom door.
"What happened?" Sam grumbled sluggishly.
"Dean seems to have a fever" John replied, gesturing to the bathroom door "but won't let Mary take his temperature".
Sam perked to see Mary standing beside the other bed with a thermometer in her hand and her brow furrowed.
"He had a nightmare last night too" she added "didn't want to talk about it".
Sam shook his head, looking over at the bathroom "No, he never does" he breathed.
__________
Dean stood in front of the sink. Tap running, face now wet. He was flushed. Flushed and pale, his freckles stood out more than usual.
He huffed, turning away from his reflection and rested a hand on his forehead to feel his own temperature. He was warm. Very Warm. Definitely a fever. He groaned, slumping his hand back against the sink. He slowly looked back up at his reflection, just in time to see a tear fall down his pale, flushed and freckled face. He knew it wasn't real. The red on his face was a fevered flush, he knew that... but he couldn't not see it. The single tear streak though the splatter of red covering his pale freckled cheeks. The warmth of it. The wetness of the imaginary blood coating his face.
When he finally came out of the bathroom, he was met with the other three mostly packing up - it wasn't like there were that unpacked to begin with.
He sighed and stepped into the room, quietly picking up his bag from the floor, dumping it on the bed to sort it out. He was grateful to be mostly ignored upon entering, really just wanting to get home and sleep this fever off- hopefully with very little nightmares.
Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly ignored, or at least not without reason. Sam took advantage of the brief drop of Dean's guards. Quickly stepping up behind him and taking hold of his boxer's waistband. Dean didn't have time to realise it before his brother tugged his underwear down and jammed a thermometer in him.
"Sam-!" He squeakily snapped as his already flushed cheeks went redder.
As soon as the thermometer beeped Sam tugged it out and snapped Dean's underwear back up to cover him before he walked away while looking at the number.
Dean glared back at him as he showed both their parents' the little screen of the instrument.
"What the fuck" he growled.
"101.2" Sam read, glancing up at Dean. "A fever".
Dean continued to glare at all three, pouting a little.
"Yeah? So?" He huffed "I'm fine" he insisted, angrily packing his bag up before storming out of the room.
Sam just watched him with a bitch face, waiting so see if he'd stop before calling out.
"You're not wearing pants!"
Dean stormed back in, quickly got on a pair of jeans before storming back out the door.
Sam sighed, Mary and John followed suit with an exclamation of their own as they stood and watched what little they could see of Dean from sliver in the door.
"Well, let's go home then" John said, pulling the keys off the table and handing them to his son "you up for driving?" He asked.
Sam huffed, smiling as he took the keys "yeah" he replied. He glanced at Dean leaning on the car, duffle sitting on top of it since he's found that it's locked "not sure he's gonna me so happy about it though" he noted.
"Well, he doesn't seem to be happy about anything this morning" John shrugged, picking up his bag and leading the three out of the room and to the car.
_________________
Mary glanced at Dean's sleeping from in the seat beside her. He's still visibly flushed and he's tightly wrapped himself in his coat. Mary had been keeping a close eye on him while also keeping her distance, he is likely to still be irritable.
Sam's been driving all day with a break here and there for pit stops. John's sat in the passenger seat with his new journal over his lap. It only had a few entries so far, but he was determined to get back into the act of writing in it, especially after the boys got him a new one as a present.
A few miles away past the border of Kansas, Dean stirred and sluggishly sat up, rubbing his face.
Mary perked up and turned to address him, before she could, Dean grumbling at the driver.
"Pull over" he croaked.
"Why?" Sam huffed.
"Pull over. Now" Dean repeated, voice a little more urgent.
"We're literally almost home" Sam exclaimed, gesturing to the road ahead briefly before his fingers curled back around the wheel.
"I said pull over!" Dean snapped, reaching over to pull Sam's air, causing the Sam to swerve the car towards the shoulder.
"Dean-! For Fuc-" Sam regained control and halted the car to stop.
As soon as they were on the shoulder Dean's door was open. He stumbled out of the car with a gag and collapsed onto the grass, coughing and heaving.
Sam's face immediately dropped from its exasperated scowl. He switched off the car and climbed out, slamming the door as he rushed to his brother's side, Mary and John not far behind.
"Christ Dean" Sam muttered, kneeling down to rub Dean's back.
Mary came up on his other side, fingers reaching to rest on his cheek. Mary's brow furrowed as she felt the heat radiating off her son.
"Dammit" John grumbled, backing back and heading to the trunk "how long have you been feeling sick for? This surely couldn't come on".
Dean whined, panting a little as he continued to lean over the puddle of sick in front of his knees. John rifled through the med kit and produced a thermometer. He trekked back over to Dean's side and crouched down.
"Come on, under your tongue" John ordered gently.
Dean shut his mouth, scrunching up his nose and leaning away from the offending instrument.
"No way! That's been in my ass" he whined.
John rolled his eyes "it's a different one, I promise" he assured.
"Yeah, and you've made a whole lot of promises-".
"Ok, enough" Sam butted in "it is a different one. We marked the other with a Sharpe" he explained.
Dean looked at his brother, scanning his face. He huffed when he eventually believed Sam and turned back to the different thermometer. He hesitantly and reluctantly opened his mouth, forcing it out of the pout he'd been holding it in and allowing John to slip the metal part under his tongue. He shut his lips around the instrument and waited with a newly formed pout for it to beep. When it did, John took it back.
"102" he read "it's gone up".
Dean huffed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Can we just go home now?" he mumbled.
"We should probably get some meds into you. Hopefully you don't throw them up" Sam said, patting Dean's back as he stood and headed to trunk, John standing as well and following him.
They got some Panadol into Dean before he got bundled back into the car and they were back on the road, Sam back in the driver's seat.
Dean was half asleep by the time they reached the bunker, taking the blanket with him as he stumbled out of the car and down the long stairs, heading straight to his room.
His family chuckled at him as he slammed his door. He stumbled over and slumped into bed, curling into himself and shutting his eyes.
He knew it wasn't real. He knew that if he opened his eyes the blood would disappear. But right now, he was too tired, and he was forced to be dragged into another gory nightmare.