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Sammy was sick again. Being young and traveling around in the cold, staying in damp and not the cleanest of motels, meant he was quite susceptible to illness.
John had made him an appointment at a nearby doctor's office. “Dean, go get your brother ready for bed; he needs his rest since we’re going to the doctor early tomorrow,” he ordered.
Dean nodded and made his way to where Sam was coloring and sniffling away. “C'mon Sammy - bed time. You need your rest for the doctor tomorrow."
Sam instantly shot up straight from his slouched position, dropping his crayon. He started to shake. Dean crouched down next to him and held him close. “Sammy, it’s okay, the doctor isn’t scary. He just wants to make you feel better.”
Sam was still frozen, staring blankly at the wall. “C'mon Sammy, I’ll be there with you, and so will dad," he coaxed. Dean could see his father losing patience; he knew he’d been given an order, and that he had to get Sammy to bed now and let him get some rest.
“C'mon, Sammy” Dean said as he held out his hand to the younger Winchester. Sam took his hand and they both headed to the bathroom to get Sam washed, dressed and ready for bed.
When Sam was all ready, Dean walked out to tell his dad. John was passed out, sprawled over notes and newspaper clippings from his latest hunt, with a beer still in his hand. Dean saw his medical bag laying by the door from where John unpacked the car. Suddenly he had an idea; he grabbed the bag and took it towards the bedroom where he could hear Sam sniffling and his cough gradually worsening.
"Sammy?" Dean called, striding over to his brother's bed. He set the medical bag on the mattress with a light, muffled thud.
Sam stopped coughing and looked up. "What are you doing with Daddy's bag, Dean?"
"Dad's asleep; he won't notice." The older boy began pulling the medical instruments from the bag, one by one, and laid them on the bed between the two of them. His eyes caught his brother's when he looked up, and he paused, seeing anxiety cloud the younger boy's eyes. "What's the matter, Sammy?"
Sam sniffled, opened his mouth to speak, and broke into a deep, echoing cough that made his eyes water. "I don't feel good," he mumbled as a tear trickled down his cheek.
"I know, that's why Dad is taking you to the doctor, so they can make you better," Dean replied, reaching over to the table by the bed for a tissue and wiping his brother's damp face and runny nose.
"But I don't wanna go to the doctor," Sam whimpered. A second tear dribbled from his eye. "It's cold and it smells funny and... and..." he trailed off into hiccuping sobs.
His brother's arms were instantly wrapped around him. "It's okay to be scared, Sammy, but I promise you the doctor will help you feel good again." Dean rubbed his back slowly up and down, shushing little Sammy until the sobs quieted down. "Look, I brought Dad's doctor things to show you how they work. Will you feel better if you try them on me?" he asked. His brother nodded slowly. "Good boy. What do you want to try first?"
Sam shrugged his shoulders and made an unsure expression to his brother. Dean laughed before he began to explain. “Okay, so they will ask you or dad questions about how you are feeling, like what hurts and about your cough,” he began. Sam’s eyes widened in fear. “Hey, shhh, it’s okay Sammy. If you don’t want to speak, you can whisper to me and I can tell the doctor. Sound okay?" he asked. Sam nodded in response.
“Okay, so first, because we’ve never been there before, they will need to weigh you and measure how tall you are,” Dean explained. Sam was listening attentively, nodding. “So the doctor will put you on a box, and it will tell them how much you weigh. And then like dad does, they’ll put you by a big ruler and measure to see how tall you are." Sam nodded again, showing he understood.
Dean poked him playfully. “You can see how much you have to grow before you are as tall as me!” he teased. Sam’s eyes brightened up at this. He always looked up to his brother and wanted to be just like him.
Dean picked up the thermometer from the bed, and held it up in front of Sam. “Okay, this is an easy one. You’ve let me and dad do it before, and you’ve seen it used on me – the doctor will just put it in your mouth and see how hot you are.” Sammy nodded, feeling slightly more relaxed.
Dean picked up the blood pressure cuff next. “You know what this is, Sammy?” he asked.
Sam shook his head in response. “No, but it looks really scary,” he replied. His eyes started to tear up.
“Hey, it’s okay! I’m not sure what it does, but it doesn’t hurt – just squeezes a bit. I don’t think we should mess with this. It looks too big for you, anyway," his brother said. Sam released a deep breath, sighing in relief.
“Now the next thing dad doesn’t have, but…” Dean started talking as he made his way to his bed, reaching under the bed for his small flashlight that John had given him. “This will do." Dean climbed back onto Sam’s bed and sat in front of him once again. “They have a special light and thing that they will use to look in your ears – to make sure they are okay, and to check if you have a brain in there!”
Sam’s eyebrows furrowed and he gave a slight frown. “I do have a brain!” Sam raised his voice, but all that came out were croaked words before he started coughing again.
Dean rubbed his back patting it slightly to help Sam out. “Okay, I believe you, don’t hurt yourself!” Dean smiled.
“What’s that?” Sam pointed towards the stethoscope on the bed.
Dean picked it up and started to explain. “This is a stethoscope; the doctor will use it to listen to what’s going on inside of you."
Sam climbed further under his duvet. His muffled voice came from under the covers, “I don’t want them to listen to my insides, it’s scary! What if they say something mean?"
Dean chuckled, causing Sam to poke his head out from his hiding place. “What’s funny?” he asked defensively.
Dean continued laughing. “Would you feel better if you used it on me, and then we tried it on you - or you could even try listening?”
Sammy came further out of the covers and sat in front of Dean and nodded his head. "Okay kiddo, put this on," Dean instructed. He slipped the earpieces of the stethoscope into his brother's ears. Then he put the other end of it to his own chest. "Can you hear anything?"
Sam made a funny face at his brother. "Your voice sounds really super loud with this!" he yelled, forgetting he didn't need to raise his voice, which made the older boy grin back. Then Sammy began to focus on what he could hear and he noticed a steady drum beat coming from inside his brother. He put his hand over Dean's and pushed down to make the sound louder and clearer. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was a nice sound.
"What's that drum sound, Dean?" he asked.
"That's my heart beating; it keeps me alive and makes me strong and brave so I can protect you," his brother explained.
"Wow," breathed Sam. "Your heart is super duper strong!"
Dean beamed proudly. "I bet yours is really strong too, wanna find out?" He took the stethoscope off his chest and pressed it to the younger boy's sternum. A different drum beat echoed in Sam's ears, one that was much faster. He didn't like that it was faster; he wanted it to sound just like his big brother's.
"Dean..." he whimpered, "something's wrong!" He pulled the stethoscope out of his ears.
"It's okay Sammy, do you want me to check?" his brother asked reassuringly. The little boy nodded, holding back tears.
Dean put the stethoscope in his own ears and held up the end. "Do you want me to hold it, or do you want to do it yourself?" he inquired.
"You do it," Sam sniffled.
Soon he found himself pulled into his big brother's lap. The older boy's arm reached around and gently touched the stethoscope to his brother's chest. A rapid thudding reached Dean's ears. Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud. "What's wrong with my drum, Dean?"
"Shh, Sammy, your heart sounds good, it's just beating fast," he comforted his brother. "Are you still scared?"
"Uh-huh, a little," the little boy whispered.
Dean's arms squeezed him tighter as he continued to listen. "You never have to be scared with me, okay? I will always keep you safe, no matter what. Try breathing in really slow like this," he demonstrated, "and then blow it out nice and slow like this."
The stethoscope remained on Sam's chest while he mimicked his brother's breathing, and soon he felt less afraid. "There you go Sammy, feel better now?" He nodded. "That's really good, your heartbeat is slower now."
"As slow as yours?" He asked.
"Well, yours is a little faster since you're littler than me," Dean explained, "but when we grow up they will be the same. Do you want to hear it again?"
Sam nodded, and Dean placed the ear tips back in his ears. Once again, Dean placed the end of the stethoscope on Sam’s small chest. Sam gasped, “Dean, it’s still faster than yours!”
Dean nodded sympathetically. “Well, you're sick - and when you're sick, your heart has to work harder, but it's okay.”
Sam nodded again and listened for a little longer. After a while, he looked up at Dean and asked if he could listen to his heart once again.
Dean smiled and nodded. “Just let me put all this away first; it’s late.” Dean packed away all of John’s things, leaving the stethoscope with Sam who was making funny noises into the chest piece while he returned the bag to its original place.
When he returned, he and Sam lay down on the bed while Sam listened to his brother's heart once again. Dean didn’t mind what was happening; he may have been a bit uncomfortable, but if this is what he needed to do to make sure his brother was calm and prepared for what would happen, then this was what he needed to do.
After a while, Dean felt Sam’s hand slip off his chest, and looked down to see the little Winchester fast asleep. He removed the ear pieces from his ears and slipped out of bed, putting the stethoscope away back in the bag like this never even happened. He looked back over at his bed - contemplating sleeping in there - but instead decided to join his brother (who was shivering). He climbed into bed with his brother and held him close, so he would be there if he needed him.
The next morning, John came in, woke both boys up, and told them to get ready to go.
Sam was sent into a state of panic and Dean immediately threw himself in front of his brother. “Hey Sammy, look at me, it’s going to be okay, you hear me? Remember what we did last night? Deep breaths, it’s going to be okay.”
When Sam had calmed down, Dean helped Sam get dressed and sent him out to John who had made him breakfast before getting himself ready.
It was a twenty minute drive from the motel to the nearest children's clinic. John parked the Impala and he and Dean got out of the car while Sam remained motionless in his booster seat.
"Let's go get you checked out, Sammy," John sighed, trying to lift his youngest son out of the car seat. Sam held on as tight as he could, but his father was stronger.
"Daddy, no!" the little boy wailed, "I don't wanna!" He kicked his little legs furiously, but John held him firmly and carried him inside. He plopped Sam into a chair in the waiting room, and Dean climbed into the seat next to him. "Look after your brother for a minute," he instructed, going to the receptionist's desk to sign in.
The small boy's cries broke off into a painful-sounding cough; his older brother rubbed his back until the fit was over. "Shhh, Sammy, I know you don't feel good, but this will make you all better again soon, okay?"
"D- Dean, I don't like it here," he stammered, sniffling as his nose began to run.
"It's okay," the older boy leaned into hug him. "You're okay, I'm here," he whispered into the embrace.
Sammy climbed over the arm of the chair and into his brother's lap. Dean hugged him close while the younger boy snuggled his head into his chest.
"Do you hear that, Sammy? That's my heart helping you be a brave boy." He ran his fingers through Sam's baby-soft hair and felt him nod encouragingly. "Remember what we practiced? You know everything that is gonna happen so you don't have to be afraid, okay?" Dean's words and the gently thumping heartbeat against his cheek helped soothe the little boy, and he slowed his breaths to match the ones his brother puffed against the top of his head. John looked back at his boys, feeling quietly proud of how good his oldest was, and thought his youngest was going to be okay.
Soon the trio were called back into an exam room. A nurse opened the door for them, but Sam balked and buried his face in John's hip, a death grip around his leg. "C'mon Sammy, you're getting a little too big for this now," he urged, trying to be kind but beginning to lose his patience.
"No, Daddy, look! No!" Sam screamed, pointing into the room.
Dean tugged on his father's coat. "Dad, that's a clown, Sammy can't go in there!" He gestured to the cartoonish figure painted on the wall. It was not having the desired effect of making the room kid-friendly.
John sighed and picked up the frightened boy. "Can we have a different room?" he asked the nurse.
"There's one more open down the hall," she replied, smiling. She waved to her right and they followed her into another room of the same size and shape, but this one was painted with tropical fish. "Wait here just a minute for the doctor please," she said and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Sam had his eyes squeezed tightly closed, and all that could be heard in the silent room was his small sniffles.
“Sammy you can open your eyes now - no clowns. It’s all fish; you like fish, right?” Dean encouraged. Sam slowly opened his eyes and peered around the room before heaving a sigh of relief. “See, nothing to be afraid of Sammy!” Dean smiled brightly to his little brother.
Not long after, the nurse came back with an empty file which was meant for Sam. “Okay, which one of you is Samuel Winchester?” she asked.
Dean gently nudged Sam, and he raised his hand. The nurse bent down to his level and smiled. “It’s okay sweetheart, we just need to measure your height and weight because you are new to us. We need some records." Sam looked back to Dean for confirmation and the eldest boy nodded.
Sam walked forward to where the lady was standing and was brave enough to have both his height and weight measured. “Okay, that’s good! Well done Sam, I’ll just go get the doctor,” she said as she walked Sam back over to where his family was.
Sam started to tense up again, so Dean gave him a reassuring smile. Sam slowly nodded his head, trying to be brave. The nurse left the room, and five minutes later the doctor arrived. He was exactly what Sam was expecting, tall and skinny but not as old, but he had a scary face.
“So Sam, what seems to be the problem with you today?” the doctor asked, approaching the younger Winchester. Sam slowly stepped back closer to his father, seeking comfort.
John picked him up and sat him on the examining table. “Nothing to be scared of,” the doctor said as he approached, smiling to ease Sam’s fear. The doctor turned to John and asked him for Sam’s symptoms. He missed a lot of them, so Dean interrupted where he could, telling him how Sam was feeling.
The doctor put some gloves on and grabbed two test kits from one of the many drawers in the room. “Okay, first things first, I need to put this cotton swab in your mouth and just rub it around; is that okay, Sam?”
Sam leaned as far back as he could, trying to get away from the doctor. John tried to hold him in place but Sam turned his head.
“Okay, I have to do one on Dean too," the doctor informed them. "Since you have been in close contact with each other, it's possible you caught what he has."
Dean walked forward and jumped up next to Sam, holding his tiny hand in his larger one. “How about I go first, Sammy, and show you everything is going to be okay. And then it is your turn, and if you get scared, you can hold my hand,” he suggested.
Sam nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. He watched the doctor carefully, and searched his brother's face for any signs of pain. When it was his turn, he sat at still as possible. He was coughing and getting agitated, but Dean held his hand tighter, and it was over before he knew it.
The nurse came back shortly after to take away the tests. “We should get the results of those in a few minutes; our clinic does rapid testing as we know a lot of people move through town quickly or on business and don’t have time to come back for results," she explained.
The doctor returned to the younger boy with Dean remaining next to him. He checked Sam’s temperature, which was quite high; Sam was covered in a light sweat. Next was blood pressure. Sam didn’t like that, and once again Dean offered to go first, but Sam wanted to be brave and try it for himself. The doctor slipped on the small cuff and began squeezing the pump.
Sam started to squirm. “Deeeaaaan, it’s too tight,” he whined, beginning to sniff again.
Dean soothed Sam the best he could without getting in the way, trying to keep him still. “Sammy, it’s okay, it will be over soon - but you gotta stay still, otherwise the doctor will have to do it again. Can you be really still, like when we play musical statues?” Sam sat as still and quiet as possible and the doctor was able to get a measurement. He smiled at Dean, admiring how such a young boy was so wise and so good for his younger brother.
The doctor continued on with his exam reaching for the stethoscope hanging from the wall. Dean could hear Sam’s breath hitch. His clammy hand squeezed his older brother's tightly as the doctor approached the exam table, stethoscope in hand.
"Do you know what this is, Sam?" the doctor asked. The little boy nodded. "It's my stethoscope, and it helps me hear your heart and lungs. The sounds tell me if everything is working inside you." The doctor put the ear pieces in his ears. "May I use it on you, Sam?"
The younger boy shook his head vigorously and sniffled again. "Make him go away, Dean," he whined quietly to his brother.
"Sammy..." John raised his voice from across the room. "You gotta cooperate, son!"
"It's okay Sammy, you know it doesn't hurt, and it will be over quickly," Dean encouraged.
"May I?" the doctor asked again. The little boy didn't respond, so he carefully lifted the hem of his shirt and touched the stethoscope to his chest.
Sam jumped. "It's coooold!" he yelled.
The doctor withdrew his hand apologetically. "Let's warm it up for you, alright? Can you hold out your hand for me?"
Sam refused. "I'll make it warm for you, Sammy," Dean volunteered, holding out his free hand for the chest piece. He curled his fingers around the cool metal for a minute until it felt less like an ice cube. "Okay, it's better now," he assured his younger brother.
"Very good, let's try again," the doctor suggested. He put the stethoscope back under Sam's shirt and listened to his heart, moving the device around to hear all the different sounds. The little boy's heart beat quickly, but was otherwise normal. He glanced at his wristwatch for a minute to count the pulse.
"Great job, Sam," the doctor praised. "Now I would like to check your lungs. Can you take a deep breath in for me?" he asked. Sam inhaled sharply and began coughing. "Does that hurt?"
"A little," he admitted.
The stethoscope slid to the other side of his chest. "Deep breath again," the doctor instructed, "and out. Good! Again," he continued listening in several different spots. He removed the stethoscope and walked to Sam's side. "I'm going to listen on your back now, is that okay?" he asked. His patient seemed calmer, so he lifted up the back of the boy's shirt. "When you feel the stethoscope, I want you to take a deep breath each time, like we did before. Can you do that for me, Sam?" The doctor moved the stethoscope over Sam’s back and Sam took in a deep breath each time, occasionally coughing, causing Dean to wince.
The doctor finished, putting Sam’s shirt back down. He gave him a reassuring pat on the back and returned to his desk to write in Sam’s file.
The nurse returned with two pieces of paper, handing them to the doctor before leaving. The doctor glanced over the test results and began to speak. “Okay, so the good news is Sam and Dean are both clear of strep; but the bad news is that Sam has quite a nasty chest infection."
Dean’s eyes widened in shock; the doctor noticed before replying, “It’s okay, he just needs lots of rest and to take all of the medicine I am going to give him."
This time the doctor turned to John. “He’ll also need to drink plenty of fluids - you can try him on food if he feels up to it."
He turned to Dean again. “As long as Dean doesn't have any symptoms, I’ll write the prescription and you can be on your way. Just make sure Sam takes all of the medicine and keep an eye on him. If anything changes, bring him straight back or straight to a hospital."
Dean nodded and hopped down from the exam table before lifting Sam off and putting him down next to him. John exchanged a few more words with the doctor as the boys looked at the fish painted on the walls. Sam was pointing out all the fish he knew, impressing Dean. He made up a few names on the spot when he didn’t know what type they were. As soon as John was done, the doctor called Sam over and put a sticker on his shirt for being so brave.
The Winchesters left the clinic and loaded into the Impala. John ruffled Sam's hair as he buckled him into the car seat, making his son smile. "You did good, Sammy," he praised softly. They drove to the drugstore and waited while the pharmacist filled Sammy's prescriptions: chewable children's Tylenol for the fever, a grape-flavored cough suppressant, and a thick pink antibiotic liquid to fight the infection.
Soon they were back in the motel room. John set the bag of medicines down at Sam's bedside and tucked his youngest snugly into the bed. "Deano, be a good boy and bring your brother a glass of water, will ya?" he ordered. His oldest son returned with a glass of water, and sat down on the mattress next to his brother. Sam drank about half of it before he started to spill and John pulled the glass away.
"Now, Dean, I want you to watch carefully when I give Sammy his medicine. Don't give him too much or he will get worse. Got it?" Dean nodded his understanding. "Good. I'm giving him one of these chewables now, and if I'm not back in the morning, give him another when he wakes up. This cough stuff, that's every six hours, but only fill it up to the first line, okay? The other line is for bigger kids." There was a notepad and pen on the side table which he pressed into Dean's hands. "You write down every time you give him medicine - that's very important, Dean - and don't you forget to give it to him, either." The older boy nodded solemnly. "And the pink stuff is twice a day. He's not gonna like it, but make sure he drinks a whole capful, alright?"
"Alright Dad, I got it," Dean replied.
"I'm gonna go gank that last witch that got away, and then we'll all go up to Bobby's and rest. Sound good?" John asked.
"Yeah!" the boys exclaimed.
"Okay," their father smiled back at them. "Sammy, stay in bed. Dean, keep giving him water and don't let him get out of bed. Follow the medicine schedule, and take his temp before bed. Thermometer's in my bag; call me if it's over 102, alright?"
"We'll be fine, Dad, now go gank that sonofabitch!" Dean told his father.
Sammy's eyes grew wide. "Language, son. Not in front of your brother," John scolded.
"But you say that a lot, Daddy," Sam pointed out innocently.
Their father rolled his eyes. "Be good, boys. I'll be back as soon as I can." He left his sons alone.
Dean checked the clock; it was still early. "Do you wanna take a nap, Sammy?" he shook his head. "Coloring book?" Sammy shook his head again. "Want me to read to you?" He nodded yes vigorously. "Alright, nerd, which story?" Dean asked.
"King Arthur!" his brother exclaimed, a huge grin on his face.
"Of course. Why do I still ask?" the older boy joked. He picked up the book and sat next to Sam, who leaned into his body. He read until the younger boy was fast asleep on his chest, snoring lightly because of his illness. Dean smiled and set the book down. He put his hand across his brother's forehead; it was warm and covered in a sheen of sweat, so Dean wiped it gently with a damp cloth. He suddenly felt a bit sleepy himself, so he allowed his eyes to close and fell asleep with Sam's head nestled on his chest beneath his head.
Several hours later when John returned victoriously, finding his boys still asleep like that brought a smile to his face. He could see how worn out the pair looked, so he carefully packed up all their things and loaded the car. He returned shortly after and untucked Dean from Sam’s embrace, carried him to the car, and strapped him in. He returned to the motel room and picked up Sam. He carefully strapped him into the car seat, tucking a blanket over both boys, and got into the front himself. As he drove down the highway to Bobby’s house, he looked into his rear view mirror and saw the pair once again snuggled together. He knew that although it wasn’t the life they should have been raised in, they would get through it because they had each other and would do anything for the other.