The face peering down at him in a state of study shocked Sam, making him jump. It wasn't exactly everyday that you awoke to find someone simply peering at you as though you were dead. His brother pulled back slightly but still scanned his face.
"You were coughing like you wanted to get rid of your throat." Distantly, he muttered his green eyes stared into Sam's skin as though it held the secret to eternal life. Although, Sam considered, if this is what eternal life feels like then I don't want it.
"What're-" He stopped to cough as his voice rasped painfully. He was parched, "How long was I asleep?"
Looking suspicious, Dean grumbled, "12 hours."
"What?! How is that possible?!"
The older shrugged, "I dunno. At one point, I thought you were dead. You went all quiet and I didn't think you were breathing." There was a moment of silence, "But you were." He said as though he had to reassure.
"Good, I'm glad." Sam replied all snarky as he forced himself to his feet. He could still feel the tiredness weighing on his shoulders despite basically sleeping for the last 24 hours.
It was bright downstairs, making Sam squint against the light. He automatically set a path for the couch but Dean caught him and instead diverted him into the kitchen. Pushing his brother into one of the wooden chairs, Dean began creating some sort of breakfast as he spoke about something but nobody was listening.
Sam, on the other hand, was pushing his palm against his chest to see if it increased the pain or if the pain was too internal to be affected by the pressure. Upon testing, he discovered that it did become more painful but only by a fraction. Not enough to really make a sound judgement on.
"Sam?" The voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He jumped, quickly moving his hand from his chest and whipping his head around to find who had addressed him. Dean stood with a puzzled expression upon his features. A frying pan with eggs inside was held above the cooker as the elder stared with a frown.
"You okay?" Concern colored the shorter man's tone.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam waved his concern off with a smile.
"If you're sure..." Dean muttered. He got no reply so simply served up the eggs and dumped them on a plate in front of Sam.
"Here, you must be starving."
"Thanks, De." A smile pulled at his mouth as he poked at the eggs slightly.
Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed some ketchup from the fridge and deposited on the table beside Sam's plate with a knowing smile. The only way you could make Sam eat practically anything is to slather it in tomato ketchup. The man loved the stuff despite always complaining about its high sugar and salt content.
Pouring some on the side of his plate, Sam happily dunked his egg whites into the red before doing the same with the sunny yoke.
After his late breakfast, Sam retired to the couch where he spent the rest of the day watching daytime TV with his chin rested on his raised knees. Meanwhile, Dean worked on cars out the back to occupy his attention.
----
It was a few days and a bit later when Bobby Singer was creeping back into his own home at 3am. He crept to avoid waking the boys since he knew they were still taking shelter in his house and everyone knew that an exhausted Winchester was a miserable Winchester.
With gentle footsteps, he made his way into the kitchen. The old man jumped upon making out a shape on the couch through the darkness. It took him a minute to identify the shape as Sam's giant frame curled up on the too small sofa with his arms wrapped around his torso. A bark of a cough broke from the large man's throat. It was loud enough to echo through the house. Despite this, Sam slept through the noise his own body was creating.
Bobby frowned. What was Sam doing down here when Bobby had always ensured that there were two single beds in the guest room for the boys. Approaching the man silently, Bobby shook his shoulder to wake him.
"Hmm?!" Sam muttered as he was ripped into reality.
"Sorry, son. What are you doing down here?" Concern was in his tone. He hope that they hadn't fallen out again. That happened surprisingly often.
"My coughing kept waking Dean so I came down here." His voice was raspy and painful.
"What's wrong with you? Got a cold?"
"Something like that, yeah." Sam mumbled as he began to settle back down into his sleeping position. Bobby took this as a signal to leave so he started up the stairs to his bed.
----
It was nearly lunchtime when Bobby pulled himself from the warm embrace of his bed and ventured down stairs. He was surprised to find a tense looking Dean Winchester staring at his brother from across the room. The younger man was still sound a sleep.
"Bobby?" Dean said in confusion, "I didn't even realise that you were back."
"I came back last night." He whispered in return, careful not to wake the sleeping man.
"You don't have to whisper, "Dean replied normally, "He could sleep through a tornado."
The old hunter frowned at the tall man, cramped onto his small couch, "That's not like Sam." All hunters had to learn to be light sleepers. If they didn't adapt to it then they could die so heavy sleepers rarely lasted long in their business.
"It's not like Sam used to be," Dean corrected, "Recently, he's been sleeping most of the day and you actually have to set out to wake him up to bring him around." He scratched his chin where stubble had grown over the last week or so.
"He's ill?" He remembered the conversation with the young man last night.
"I think so... But in the last few days he's been saying he's fine whenever I ask."
They both studied Sam for a while. His chest rose and fell but only by a little bit as it became to painful to allow his lungs to expand the whole way. As a result, his breathing was shallow, quick and totally abnormal. A gentle wheeze permeated the space. His head was turned away from them but they could still see how his lips moved slightly every now and again as though he was talking in his dreams.
Dean shrugged before starting towards the kitchen, "He's been like it for about a month but it wasn't this bad to start with."
Following the man, Bobby also returned to the kitchen, where he sat at the table with his fingers interlocked beneath his chin, "But he's not in pain?"
"He took some painkillers a few times before we came but I have seen him take any recently... He hasn't mentioned anything either."
"Perhaps it's just a tough cold then... Or virus." Neither were sure but they both nodded in agreement anyway.
There was silence as they both lounged around the kitchen, reading newspapers or catching up on each other's lives. Bobby told him all about his latest case and in return, Dean told him about a particularly interesting spirit they dealt with in Boston.
It was almost one o'clock when Dean's stomach rumbled, reminding them that it was time for lunch. They then remembered Sam slumbering on the sofa.
"Go and wake the beast." Bobby commanded as he began to pull bread out ready for sandwiches.
"Wish me luck. The sleeping giant doesn't cope will with waking up." He joked and strode off into the living room.
A few minutes later, Bobby was placing the sandwiches upon the table when the two Winchester brothers returned. Sam was leading the way but he looked like death warmed over. Dark circles stained the thin skin under his eyes as his cheeks had grown increasingly hollow. It had been hard to notice such details in the pitch black of the night but now they stood out. Dean hovered behind him with worry etched into his features. The hunter rarely showed such a strong emotion on his face.
"Oh, Bobby?!" Sam's eyebrows rose, "When did you get back?" He was clearly surprised to see the old man. Even his scratchy voice could convey that much.
"Last night. We spoke." Bobby tried to jog his memory. The frown on Sam's face only grew, "You probably won't remember. You were half asleep." He laughed but it was clearly empty. He simply wanted to put Sam's mind at ease. If the boy was ill, there would be no need to worry him.
Sam's weary face broke into a smile that could only be described as hard worn. It looked tired yet he fought to keep it there to reassure everyone else.
Their sandwiches weren't particularly delicious yet Sam made a large effort to thank Bobby and praise the food that he'd created. He also seemed to put a lot of effort into staying animated for the period that they were all conversing. Dean's green eyes were trained to the youngest gathered at the table and his gaze only strayed a handful of times.; Bobby counted.
Bobby was also watching Sam but he was much more subtle about it, choosing to study him whenever the own man's gaze was thrown elsewhere in the room; by choice or distraction.