CATCH ME WHEN I FALL
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I wouldn't mind keeping Dean.
S2. Dean has barely been eating since their dad died 5 months ago, which leads to him passing out after a hunt. Sam and Bobby finally realise how much he has been struggling since John's death, and try to help himSick!Dean. Worried/Protective!Sam/Bobby.
Late at night, in the middle of a muddy cemetery, Dean and Sam were standing side by side, watching as the last flames licked the side of the grave of a serial killer who continued killing even after his death.
When the flames died out, and the grave was filled back in, Dean smiled up at his brother. "That went well," he said as Sam picked up the shovel. "Another successful salt and burn."
Sam looked at him, and laughed when he saw his clothes were caked in mud after the spirit had developed a new hobby of throwing the older Winchester around the cemetery.
"Well? Dean, you look like you've had a bath in mud."
"That was actually part of the plan," said Dean with a sidelong look at Sam. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over him.
"Yeah. Sure it was, Dean," said Sam with another laugh. His face became serious when Dean suddenly came to a stop, blinking rapidly. "Dean, are y-? DEAN!" he yelled, dropping everything to catch his brother when his legs gave way. He caught Dean when he started falling backwards, and lowered him the rest of the way to the ground, holding his upper body in his arms. "Dean, hey. Can you hear me?"
After a minute, Dean's eyes fluttered open. "Why am I down here?" he asked, frowning up at Sam.
Sam sighed in relief, trying not to think of how light Dean seemed in his arms. "You passed out. You scared the hell out of me. Are you okay?"
"Passed-" Dean looked around them. "I didn't pass out. I just... suddenly fancied sunbathing."
"Yeah sure. Dean, it's 9 at night. By the way, who sunbathes in the middle of a cemetery at night?"
"A Vampire?" suggested Dean with a shrug. "Ooh ooh, the Undertaker."
Sam shook his head, and tried not to smile at Dean's childlike answer. He decided not to ask about how someone could sunbathe when there was no sun. "Are you hurt?" Sam didn't wait for an answer, he started running his hand over Dean's body, frowning when he felt Dean's ribs through his shirts.
"Stop feeling me up, you perv," said Dean as he shoved Sam's hand away, and tried to get up.
"When was the last time you ate?"
Dean sat up, and started rearranging his layers of clothes, trying to ignore the gnawing pain in his stomach that had been getting worse in the past few weeks. "I didn't write it down, so I don't remember the exact time."
"Dean, be serious. I can feel your ribs, so just give me a straight answer," said Sam, holding onto Dean's arms.
"Okay, mother. I ate breakfast this morning. You were there. Now let me go." Dean shrugged away from Sam, and slowly stood up.
Sam thought back to that morning at breakfast. "Dean, you ate about two or three mouthfuls of toast... then rushed off to the bathroom to get dressed." Come to think of it, Dean had barely been eating recently.
Dean bent down to get the bag, refusing to look at his brother, knowing the real reason for running to the bathroom. "Yeah, thanks Inspector Gadget. Now move your ass, I need a shower."
Sam picked up the flashlight and shovel, then followed after him. As they walked back to the car, he kept shooting worried glances at his brother, noticing for the first time how different Dean's face looked; it was thinner than it used to be.
'I'm probably worrying over nothing,' thought Sam, but the thought did nothing to ease his worry.
When they reached the Impala, the brothers put the stuff in the trunk of the car. Dean then grabbed his duffel bag and suddenly started taking his clothes off.
"Dean, what the hell are you doing?"
Dean finished taking his over-shirt off, but he left his many t-shirts on. "Oh, I just decided to start a career in stripping. What the hell do you think I'm doing?" He opened his bag, and took out some clothes to change into. "There's no way I'm sitting in my baby with these clothes. I cleaned her yesterday."
"Pass me the keys, I'm driving," Sam told him, holding his hand out.
Dean finished putting his jeans on, and buckled his belt. "No way, Sam. You're not driving my car. I'm fine."
"Do I need to remind you that you passed out five minutes ago? You're in no condition to drive. Now give me the keys."
"I didn't pass out. I'm fine, get in the car."
"Okay, fine. What if you decide to 'sunbathe' while you're driving? Will you be such a smartass if you crash the car?"
"Fine. Here," Dean said with a growl, throwing the keys at his brother.
Sam smiled, watching Dean stomp around to the passenger side, like a big kid throwing a tantrum. He slid into the driver's seat, and turned to look at Dean who had his box of tapes on his knees.
"Before you say anything, I'm not listening to your crappy music. We listen to proper music in this car, whether I'm driving or not," Dean told him, choosing a tape.
As Sam started the car, 'Highway to hell' started blaring from the cassette player.
"Home, bitch," Dean said over the music as the two of them drove back to Bobby's.
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