Ashes

Listening to the rain drumming on  the roof, occasional rumble of thunder and  flashes of lightning making the room  glow, Sam prodded the fire with a stick,  watching as the flames jumped and  sparked. The old hunting cabin they were  'borrowing' had seen better days, but  the fireplace worked and the hand pump at  the old sink still functioned after a  few minutes of muscular  priming.

A quick search of their emergency supplies had yielded a few cans of soup,  some coffee and a few chocolate bars, so they had dinner, if Dean felt up to  eating.

Even in the dancing light of the  fire, Sam could see the flush on Dean's  cheeks along with the sheen of sweat  glistening on his face. The low-grade fever  he'd been running for the past few  days had spiked suddenly and Sam, tired and  tense from trying to drive in the  heavy rain as evening descended, had spotted  the cabin just off the rutted back  road they were traveling on and declared the  trip over for at least the night.

The fact that Dean hadn't  protested spoke volumes about how bad he really  felt. He leaned wearily against  the wall while Sam picked the lock, collapsing  without a word onto the blankets  Sam piled on the beat up old couch in front of  the fire, staring listlessly  into the flames, to achey to sleep and to rung to  the bones to want to stay awake.

Sam had retrieved their med kit,  forced some aspirin down Dean's throat and  Dean had finally fallen into a  restless, murmuring doze. Sam had then settled himself carefully on  the floor, using the couch as a backrest,  kicked off his boots to let his  stockinged feet toast a little and sipped at the  coffee he had made using the  somewhat rusty coffee pot he had found. Despite the  slight metallic taste, it  was hot and helped dispel some of the cold the fire  couldn't.

How long he sat and stared into the fire, mind a blissful blank for one of  the few times in his life he had no  idea, coming back to himself only when Dean  coughed behind him and moved restlessly, his hand sliding off the couch to rest  against Sam's arm. Sam turned and lifted Dean's hand  back onto the couch, resettling the  blankets around Dean's body. He rested the  back of his hand against the side of  Dean's face, moving it up to his forehead, gauging the temperature.

Not horrible, but not good either.

Clambering to his feet he went to the sink and poured some of the water he  had pumped earlier into a tin bowl, wet a clean t-shirt he dug out of his duffel  and returned to the couch, settling on the edge of the cushion with the bowl on  the floor.

He was surprised to find Dean watching him, his eyes fever bright and glassy. "Hey!" Sam said, smiling. "How  you doin?" Dean opened his mouth then closed  it, swallowing. "Let me get you a  drink. You've been asleep for a while." Sam  fetched another clean cup and dipped out some more water.

He resumed his perch on the edge of the couch. "Sit up a little," he said  putting his hand behind Dean's head to help him. He raised  his hand to help hold the cup, but if Sam had let go it would have fallen. Dean  took a few sips of water, running the tip of his tongue over his lips to catch  stray drops.

"Enough?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded slightly, "Thanks," he whispered hoarsely, closing his eyes as  Sam eased him back down. Taking the damp t-shirt, Sam gently drew it over Dean's  face, wiping off sweat and hopefully cooling him down a little.

Dean gasped slightly at the first touch, then lay still, blinking slowly as  Sam worked the cloth down Dean's  throat.

"You feel any better? You don't seem so hot. I think your temps down a  little."

"Where...are we?" Dean rubbed clumsily at his eyes.

Sam shrugged, "Some old cabin. It  was raining like hell and you needed to lay  down, so..."

"Thanks," Dean said again. He remembered nothing of the drive here.

Sam glanced up as he noticed Dean's breathing start to stutter slightly. "You  okay?"

Dean began to shiver, his hands shaking. "Cold," he said unsteadily, pulling  at the blanket.

Sam threw more wood on the fire and prodded it until it crackled and he could  feel the heat on his face.

Dean continued to be wracked by  chills, breath gasping in and out.

"Hang on," Sam said, "Sit up." He grasped Dean by the upper arms and pulled  him upright.

"Whaya d-doin?" Dean mumbled.

"Be quiet," Sam admonished, sliding in behind Dean's upper body and pulling  him against his own body to try and stop Dean's shaking.

Dean, predictably, stiffened in Sam's embrace, but lacked the strength to push  away. Sam pulled Dean closer and positioned him so that Dean's head rested against  Sam's shoulder, ignoring Dean's weak protests. "Dean, you're having chills, for God's sake, no one can see us. Just lay  still and shut up." he gave Dean's body a slight shake and settled back against  the lumpy cushion.

Whether by choice or waning energy, Dean gradually relaxed, eyes slowly  falling closed only to  snap open again, and damn...was he snuggling?

Sam tentatively rested the palm of his hand on Dean's forehead again as his shivering slowly abated.

Dean shifted in his arms slightly, his eyes staying shut this time. "Mom used to kiss my forehead to check for fever..." He murmured drowsily and Sam  knew Dean was out of it. Sam's mouth twitched a little as he watched Dean sleep, eyes moving  restlessly beneath the lids.

What the hell...Sam thought.

Sam leaned down to lightly brush his lips against Dean's  forehead.

What Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

END