The madness of a delirious Dean



Dean declares war again, but finally recovers.

Dean was blinking slowly as he turned to the window, but as he saw something walk past, his eyes went wide and he started yelling. "DINOSAUR!"

Sam jumped in shock at the sudden yell and almost fell off the bed, dropping the cup of coffee he was trying to drink. "What the hell? What's wrong now?"

"A-A dinosaur walked b-by the window."

"Uh-huh," nodded Sam, staring at Dean as if he had three heads. "Of course it did. Dean, dinosaurs don't exist."

"It did. I-It's Barney. Barney just w-walked past the window."

"It was probably your imagination. You know how crazy you get."

"I'm n-not crazy," said Dean, certainly looking crazy, the wild look back in his eyes. "It was Barney."

"Of course it was. It was just your mind playing tricks on you. I think we'd notice if a dinosaur walked past the motel room."

"S-Sure." Dean shuddered, and turned back to the window. His eyes narrowed when he saw the singing 'dinosaur' unlocking one of the other rooms and walked inside. Slowly and quietly, Dean sat up and looked back to make sure Sam wasn't watching, but the younger Winchester was currently sweeping up the broken cup that he had dropped after Dean nearly gave him a heart attack screaming about Dinosaurs.

Dean shakily climbed from the bed and grabbed the salt shaker from the table on his way to the door. Taking one last glance over his shoulder, the sick Winchester opened the door and crept out without Sam noticing.

Sam was putting the remains of the cup into the bin and turned to the bed when he realised how quiet Dean was being. His heart sank when he saw the bed was empty, and Dean nowhere to be found. "DEAN!"

Running over to the partly open door, Sam threw it open fully and ran outside in search of his wayward delirious brother. He was about to go to the manager's office to ask if he had seen Dean when he heard a startled yell coming from the next room, knowing that Dean was somehow involved, he changed direction and ran into the other room.

"Dean what the hell?" Sam skidded to a stop in the doorway when he saw him being restrained by Bobby, waving the salt around the room, and yelling at the man in purple overalls who was laying on the floor.

"I came back to the motel to see the deranged lunatic attacking the motel manager, raving about killing Barney," said Bobby, his hands full of a struggling Dean, who was flailing about wildly.

"L-LET ME GO!" yelled Dean, waving the salt around, most of it landing on the grey haired man on the ground. "BARNEY H-HAS TO DIE! SINGING D-DINOSAURS ARE EVIL!"

Sam ran forward and helped Bobby get Dean under control. As he grabbed Dean's flailing limbs, he looked down at the manager with an apologetic expression. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. My brother... he's sick and the fever makes him a little... insane."

The older man grabbed his old purple hat, from where it had landed in the struggle, and placed it back on his head. He stood up and shook his head, smiling at the sick young man, who was still trying to break free from the two men, glaring at him. "It's okay. I used to work as a janitor at a hospital, and used to see crazy fever behaviour all the time. You wouldn't believe some of the things people do and say when their fever gets too high. Just try to get him cooled down, I don't want him to get free and attack any of my other guests. You're lucky I know about this kind of thing, if it was any of my guests, they wouldn't be as understanding."

"I HAVE T-TO KILL BARNEY! WHERE'S TH-THE LIGHTER? SALT AND BURN B-BARNEY!" Dean yelled, his voice sounding as if he had been gargling with glass. He was barely standing up without support, his throat was sore, his head was pounding and his chest was aching, but that wasn't going to stop him from killing the singing purple demon.

"Dean shut up," said Bobby, grabbing his arm as it started swinging wildly again.

"Seriously. If there's anything I can do..." Sam shook his head again, feeling guilty that Dean attacked this kind man. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Just get him out of here. If there's anything you need to help him, knock on my door and ask for Ted. I'm always willing to help. Try ibuprofen and Tylenol, they usually work."

"That's what Bobby got him the other day. It's brought his fever down a little, but not enough... as you can see."

"Get him in a cold bath and then use an ice pack on his forehead, groin, or under his arms. If you don't have any, come to the office, I always have some handy."

"Thanks a lot. We better get him back before he tries to attack somebody else with salt." Sam smiled at Ted, as him and Bobby wrestled a still struggling Dean out of the room and back to their own.

When they made it through the door, the two men placed Dean on the bed, and Bobby locked the door to make sure Dean didn't get back out, they couldn't risk him on the public just yet.

"Dean, what the hell was that?" asked Sam, placing the salt shaker on the counter, away from Dean.

"B-Barney... he's... Dinosaurs are n-not supposed to s-sing. He's evil and... and h-he sings happy songs t-to brainwash the kids to take over t-the world," Dean told him, a crazy look in his glazed eyes. "He tells k-kids that everything in the w-world is all happy happy joy joy... but it's not. He's like the devil i-in costume and he deserves to be salted and burned."

"It was the motel manager, you psycho. We're lucky he didn't throw us out."

"To be fair Sam, he was wearing a purple hat and overalls and singing as he went around the rooms. To someone as insane as Dean is right now, he'd probably look like a giant purple dinosaur."

"H-He's evil. Should be i-in hell."

"I know, son. When yer better, we'll go on a road trip, and find the real Barney"

"On a m-magic carpet? And then go see t-the king of the p-potato people?" asked Dean, looking so hopeful that Bobby couldn't deny him anything.

"Sure. We'll see the king of the potato people first, and then we'll fly to where Barney lives, then salt and burn him. Okay?"

"Yeah. Y-Yogi understands me," said Dean, reaching up to make grabby hands at the older man, a goofy grin on his face. "You're awesome."

Bobby chuckled and shook his head fondly as he reached over and ruffled the sweat-soaked spiky hair. "Yer awesome too, ya loony."

Dean's grin became wider, making him look like a manic clown. "I'm a-awesome."

"Yeah, you are when you're not deranged Dean." Sam reached over to grab the medication and antibiotics from the bedside table and asked Bobby to fill the empty glass with fresh water. Taking the needed medication, he held them in his palm and helped Dean sit up against him to help him take the pills.

After he took the medication and a sip of water, Dean laid back against the pillows and looked up at Sam.

"You're going to be okay Dean," soothed Sam, wetting the wash cloth and gently wiping it down Dean's hot cheek. "No more attacking people thinking they're annoying singing dinosaurs."

"Kay. But I hate B-Barney," Dean whispered, his bottom lip protruding from his face.

"Me too." Sam looked down at Dean, who looked like a child right then. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten all day."

"N-No soup."

"How about some toast?" Bobby offered, lifting up the bread.


Bobby nodded, and headed towards the toaster. "Coming right up. Sam, keep an eye on him."

"Don't worry. I won't let him out of my sight," Sam promised, running the cloth across Dean's forehead, before moving down his nose to his cheeks.

Dean was ignoring the two of them, and trying to concentrate on the movie that was playing on the TV. He frowned, and gasped when he suddenly saw something trying to climb out of the screen. "GET T-THE SHOTGUN!"

"Oh for crying out loud," sighed Sam. "Dean what do you need a shotgun for now?"

"S-Stevie. He... He's trying to kill m-me. Look." Dean pointed a trembling finger at the TV, his glazed eyes never leaving the screen. "He's sending his evil m-minions out to get me."

"Dean, it's a movie. She's a movie character, she's not trying to kill you. It's Samara."

Dean turned his confused gaze up to him. "I th-thought your name w-was Sam."

"Nevermind. Just watch something normal," he said, reaching over for the remote to turn it over to something that hopefully Dean didn't think was trying to kill him or something he wanted to kill. He came to a stop when he heard the Looney tunes theme tune and saw Bugs bunny come onto the screen.

"Looney tunes?" chuckled Bobby, taking the toasted bread out of the toaster, and putting the slice onto a plate to butter it lightly. "Dean's long lost relatives."

"I know," laughed Sam. "Why watch the looney tunes on the TV when we've got one right here on the bed."

"I'm not l-looney tunes. I'm... I'm..."

"A Nutcase? A Madman? Crazy? Insane? Demented? Deranged? Psychotic? Delusional? Tell us something we don't know."

Dean was glaring at Sam as Bobby brought over the plate of toast. "Here we go," he said, placing it on the covers, before sitting Dean up and plumping the pillows up behind him so he could sit up comfortably. "There. That should be easier for ya son."

"T-Thanks Yogi." Taking the plate, Dean reached out with a trembling hand to pick up one of the pieces of toast that Bobby had cut up for him. After each mouthful, he kept trying to move away from the cold wet cloth that Sam continued wiping down his cheek as he tried to watch the cartoons playing on the TV.

As he ate the toast, Dean suddenly needed to cough and accidentally breathed in, and a piece of the toast became lodged in his throat, causing him to start choking. He started coughing, trying to get rid of the toasted bread that was blocking his airway.

Sam sat frozen on the bed, staring at Dean in panic, his medical training his dad had taught him seemed to have fallen out of his mind and was lost... a bit like Dean's marbles. Luckily Bobby remembered what to do and rushed over to the bed to pull Dean up against him, wrapping his arms around the trembling frame and putting his hands in the Heimlich position, and started compressions.

It was Dean's head lolling limply forward that finally brought Sam out of his shock. He placed his hands on Dean's face, and lifted it slightly so he could into his eyes, stroking his thumbs down his hot cheeks softly. "Please Dean. Spit it out."

"Come on son. Don't do this."

"Yeah. You can't let a piece of toast take out Dean Winchester can you? Come on," Sam pleaded, his eyes filling with tears as he begged him. "Please Dean. Come on, bring it up. Please."

After several seconds of choking and wheezing, a soggy piece of toast suddenly smacked Sam in the face. Dean collapsed back against Bobby, and started gasping in mouthfuls of air, before he started coughing again.

"Oh thank god." Sam sighed in relief and reached over with his arms outstretched to hug Dean. "Don't you do that to me again, you hear me?"

Dean continued coughing against Sam's shoulder and brought his shaking arms up to wrap around Sam. "See? T-They're trying t-to kill me," he rasped weakly, still trying to gasp in gulps of air.

Sam turned to look at Bobby over Dean's shoulder and saw the older man was looking at them worriedly, panic clear in his eyes as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Thanks Bobby. You saved my brother."

"W-Where's Yogi?" rasped Dean, turning his head to look over his shoulder to find the older man.

"I'm here son. I'm right here," said Bobby, reaching out his hand to squeeze Dean's shoulder gently. "Yer alright."

Dean nodded, and sank back against Bobby's chest, almost dying seemed to have taken a lot out of him. His half-lidded eyes started fluttering as they looked up at Sam, a tiny smile quirked up the corners of his mouth as he tried to show him that he was alright.

"I'll go throw this away," said Sam, picking the plate of toast up from where it had fallen on the bed during the desperate attempt to save Dean's life. He didn't want to risk Dean choking again, so he walked over to throw it in the bin.

On the TV, Yosemite Sam was randomly firing his guns, making Dean glare back at the TV hatefully. He waited until Bobby left the bed, and reached over to the bedside table where he knew there was a gun and quietly got it out.

Before either man had time to react, Dean had grabbed the gun and pointed it at the TV. "S-Stop trying to k-kill me," he said, before pulling the trigger, shattering the TV screen. Dean smiled and sat back to watch the huge black hole in the TV where the characters once lived.

Hearing the gunshot, Sam and Bobby threw themselves on the floor out of the way of gunfire in-case Dean decided to kill them too. When they cautiously looked up and saw Dean staring blankly at the broken TV with the gun by his side, Sam was the first to recover from the shock.

"DEAN!" Sam ran over to the bed, and took the gun out of his limp hand. "WHAT THE HELL!"

"Great! He's killed the TV." Bobby shook his head in exasperation as he stared at the smoking TV set, then he walked over and unplugged it before it burst into flames or something, that was the last thing they needed.

"I k-killed Stevie," said Dean, as he stared at the hole in the TV set.

"We noticed. What the hell did you shoot the TV for? Wasn't it enough that you killed the lamp and the microwave?" said Sam, trying not to get angry at his sick/delirious brother. He turned to the older man behind him and held out the gun. "Put that somewhere else. Make sure Dean doesn't see where you put it. I didn't think he saw me when I put it in the bedside table, but I guess I was wrong."

"Ya think?" asked Bobby, walking over to the door. "I'll go and tell Ted the TV suddenly exploded before anyone calls the cops. The last thing we need is for Psycho Sid over there to get arrested."

"Okay. Don't forget to hide the gun in the car so Dean doesn't find it." Sam turned back to Dean, who was staring sadly at the remains of 'Stevie'. "Dean, why did you shoot the TV?"

"Because... because he was t-trying to kill m-me. The lady and then the h-hairy guy. He... he had a gun, S-Sammy."

"Right. First of all, Samara was just a movie character crawling from the TV... in the movie. Second of all, Yosemite Sam is a cartoon character. Neither of them were sent by the TV to kill you."

Dean was silent for several seconds, staring at Sam. "They... It's you," he accused, pointing a finger at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Samara... Yosemite S-Sam. They b-both... They're SAM!"

"Oh for gods sake. Dean, the lamp isn't trying to kill you. The TV isn't trying to kill you and I'm certainly not trying to kill you."

Dean laid staring at Sam for a few seconds, before he suddenly doubled over with a violent coughing fit that took him by surprise.

"Whoa." Sam shot forward and grabbed Dean so he didn't fall from the bed. He held Dean to his chest and allowed him to rest his head on his shoulder as he coughed his lungs up. "I've got you. It's alright."

Dean whimpered in pain, one hand gripping his aching stomach as he hacked and wheezed against Sam's supportive frame as he rubbed his back soothingly through his coughing fit.

"Take it easy." Sam's heart raced in his chest as he tried to help him through the violent coughs that racked his sick body. Each and every time Dean struggled like this, it always made Sam's heart ache at the pain his big brother was obviously in, and he could do nothing about it but hold him and help him through it.

Finally the coughing fit ended, leaving Dean lying limply in Sam's arms, wheezing painfully as he tried to catch his breath. "It's okay big brother." Sam continued holding him for two or three minutes, one hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back as he struggled to get himself under control and his breathing back to normal.

When Dean started to move away from Sam, he carefully pulled him away, and laid him back against the pillows. He picked up the cough syrup, and poured the pink liquid onto the small spoon, which he held out in-front of Dean until he opened his mouth.

Swallowing the syrup, Dean pulled a face, and reached over for the glass of water, but before he could reach it, Sam grabbed it. "There we go," he whispered, helping him take a few sips.


"When Bobby comes back in, we're getting you back in the bath to get you cooled down."

Instead of answering, Dean just blinked slowly and stared up at him as if he didn't understand what he was talking about. When the door opened, and in walked Bobby he smiled at him as if he was his saviour.

"How is he?"

"He's not killing anything else if that's what you're asking. What did Ted say?"

"He asked what the noise was and I told him the TV suddenly exploded. I think he believed me, he said he'd just replace it when we've left."

"Great. We need to get him in the bath again so the heat doesn't fry what's left of his brain cells."

"I'm on it." Bobby rolled up his sleeves, and headed into the bathroom, but on his way, he ruffled Dean's sweat-soaked hair.

Dean grinned dopily at him, and reached his arms out to him. "B-Bear hug."

Bobby rolled his eyes, and quickly leaned over the bed to give Dean a hug. "There ya go," he whispered, squeezing the feverish Winchester for several seconds before letting him go.

"L-Love bear hugs."

"Me too. I better go and get the bath ready. Be a good boy for yer brother, okay?"

"Kay Yogi," Dean agreed, nodding his head slowly, the huge happy smile never leaving his face.

"Keep a close eye on him," Bobby told Sam, as he walked into the bathroom. "Don't even look away for a second."

"Don't worry. I won't." Sam re-wet the cloth and continued running it down Dean's hot face, trying to cool him down as much as possible before they got him in the cold bath.

Dean sighed in relief and leaned into the hand on his cheek, the coldness of the cloth was like heaven to him right then. "Ha-tsuh. Huh-hitchsh! Etshchsh-Choooo!" he sneezed, wiping his bright red nose on the hoodie sleeve much to Sam's disgust.

It was over five minutes later when Bobby came back into the room to announce, "The bath is ready."

"Okay. Let's get him in and hope it helps get his fever down some more." Sam put the cloth back into the bowl, and stood from the bed to carefully wrap his arms around his shoulders. "Bobby, get his legs."

The older man walked over to the bed, and did as Sam asked him. Picking up Dean's lower body, he nodded to show he was ready and the two of them carried the sick young man to the bathroom.

It was an hour later when the two men carried a sleepy, but cooler Dean back into the main room, and carefully lowered him into the bed in just a pair of boxers. Sam quietly covered him up with the thinnest blanket they had so he didn't overheat again.

After making sure he was comfortable, Sam grabbed the first-aid kit and picked up the thermometer. Placing it carefully in Dean's mouth, Sam waited for two minutes before taking it back out and checking the reading. He sighed in relief and turned to look at an anxious Bobby.


"It's finally gone down to 101. That's the lowest it's been since he got sick. If we can get it to normal and if it doesn't get any higher, then I think he could be better within the next couple of days."

"The coughing and sneezing fits aren't as bad as they were, so I think yer right. Let's just hope that when his fever is more or less normal, he'll be back to normal."

"I know. It's exhausting taking care of him when he's like this. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither. He's a pain in the ass... but he's our pain in the ass," said Bobby, looking fondly down at a sleeping Dean, who was making snuffly noises and drooling onto the pillow as he slept.

Three days later

Dean was finally starting to feel better and was no longer as insane as he had been for the past week that he had been sick. The cold baths and medication Bobby had gotten him seemed to have done the trick.

Since Dean was no longer a handful and trying to declare war on everything in the motel room, Sam had told Bobby that he could handle Dean on his own so the older man was getting ready to go home the next day.

Dean was laying on his bed, listening to music on his walkman, nodding along to the black Sabbath song that was currently playing. "Hey Sam?"

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" asked Sam, turning away from the cleaning he was currently doing.

"Yeah. Do you ever think about your soul, or think that when you're dead you just stay in your grave?" he randomly asked, staring down at the walkman he was holding in both hands as he rewound the tape to replay the song that he had just listened to.


"It's black sabbath, Sam," Bobby told the confused Winchester, recognising the song lyrics straight away.

"Oh. Why are you asking me that for?" asked Sam, going to sit on the edge of Dean's bed.

Dean shrugged, and pressed play so he could listen to 'after forever' once again. "I just wanted to know. Ozzy is awesome. With Sabbath or on his own," he told him, nodding his head in tune to the song.

"Okay then. How are you feeling today?" he asked, reaching out his hand to place on Dean's forehead. He smiled slightly when he felt that Dean was a lot cooler than he had been and only seemed to have a slight temperature. "You're a lot better. You could be fully recovered by the end of the day... tomorrow at the latest."

The older Winchester smiled up at Sam as he gently placed the wet wash cloth over his forehead.

"That'll hopefully cool you down properly, and get rid of the last of your fever. You're not coughing or sneezing as much as you used to, and you're no longer shivering, so your teeth aren't chattering. We can understand what you're saying, so you're definitely better."

Dean nodded, and looked over at the older man, who was still packing up his things. His eyebrows shot up and a spark of recognition flashed in his green eyes. "Hey Bobby," he said, finally calling him by his real name.

"Hey boy. What happened to Yogi?" he asked, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"He finally got arrested after stealing too many picnic baskets?" asked Dean with a shrug, obviously not understanding what Bobby was talking about.

Bobby chuckled, and shook his head, before turning to Sam. "Yeah, he's finally sane."

"What are you talking about? I'm always sane... more or less," he said, before sneezing once into the palm of his hand. "Dammit."

"What was the TV called?"

"Do the forks have any names? Are the spoons still cold?"

"Er... Are you sure you don't want me to call the men in white coats? I think you could do with a straight jacket or something."

Bobby cleared his throat, and struggled not to start smiling or laughing. "What about the lamp? Do you still want to kill Larry?"

"Who the hell is Larry?" asked a lost Dean, looking over at Sam with a bewildered expression.

"He er... He's the lamp. You sort of declared war and tried to kill it several times."


"Yeah. You woke me up in the middle of the night when you were rolling around the floor trying to strangle the lamp with its own cord, you blew it to bits by shooting it the next morning. Then you asked Bobby to perform an exorcism to get rid of it, and after that you seemed to be okay with it."

Dean blinked slowly and stared at Sam, clearly not believing a word he was saying. "Riiiiight. Of course I did."

"Ya did. Ya also started singing 'I'm going slightly mad' using a wok as a guitar, dancing around the motel room in yer boxers. Ran around the motel room stark naked, thinking we were trying to sacrifice ya to Larry, and took off outside in the parking lot, threatening us with forks and throwing eggs at us. And ya kept asking if we could go flying on a magic carpet, and see the king of the potato people."

"Don't forget when he almost blew the motel up with the microwave by putting spoons in it because they were apparently cold. He tried to rip my hair out because there was apparently a rat on my head... which turned out to be my hair. Oh, and I can never forget when he 'fell' up a tree in the middle of the night and thought I was a yeti when I saved him."

"Or when he swore that a dinosaur walked past the window and it turned out to be the motel manager. Or shooting a hole through the TV because it was trying to kill him by sending his minions through the screen."

"Seriously? You expect me to believe all that?"

"It's true. Ya didn't go just slightly mad, ya went completely mad. Naming furniture, thinking everything was trying to kill ya, calling me Yogi."

Dean laid on the bed, shaking his head as he finally started to believe some of the things they were telling him. "I... I... er..." He sighed, and turned to look at the two men. "Okay. So maybe I do go a little mad sometimes... we all go a little mad sometimes."

"Dean, quoting Norman Bates from Psycho isn't helping matters," said Sam, smiling fondly as he shook his head.

Dean smiled back, but frowned when he felt a familiar sensation in his chest. He covered his mouth with one hand, and coughed into the palm, thankfully it wasn't as bad as it had been and didn't leave him almost breathless on the bed.

"Here," said Sam, picking up the glass of water from the bedside table, and gently placed his arm around Dean's back and sat him up against his side to help him have a drink.

"Sam I can drink by myself you know," said Dean, trying to move away from the glass. He glared at Sam, and took the water, so he could drink it by himself. "See?"

"Sorry. I sort of got used to helping you when you were really sick."

"Since yer not feeling so bad, Do ya want something to eat other than soup or toast? I can go and get ya something if ya want," Bobby offered.

Dean was leaning back against the pillows, rubbing his rumbling stomach gently. He realised he was really hungry, because since being sick Dean had hardly eaten anything without bringing it back up again, so he had lost several pounds, and his stomach sounded as if a puppy was in there growling hungrily. "Er... Yeah."

Bobby nodded, and stood from the bed, making sure he had his wallet in his pocket. "Okay. Can I borrow the Impala? My car ain't been running too good since yesterday."

"Dean didn't manage to get to it, did he?" asked a suspicious Sam, handing over the keys.

Bobby chuckled and took the offered keys. "No. This one isn't a Dean related problem." He looked down at Dean. "Any preferences about what ya want to eat?"

"Anything but soup," Dean whispered, clearing his throat.

"I'll be back soon. Sam do ya want anything while I'm out?"

"No. My brother's finally better, so I've got everything I want here," said Sam, smiling down at his sibling, who was staring up at him as if he had gone mad.

Bobby nodded, and headed for the door. "Okay then. If ya change yer mind, give me a call."

"How? Dean threw my phone down the toilet and drowned it."

Dean was taking another sip of water and nearly choked when Sam said that. "I did what now?"

"You threw it down the toilet, because according to you, it was talking to you and calling you names. So you owe me a new phone when we get back on the road."

"Seriously, someone needs to lock me up the next time I get sick," said Dean with a sigh.

"Don't worry, we will be. I think we'll redecorate Bobby's panic room with extra padding and blankets for the next time it happens."

"And I'll order a straight jacket with extra straps, so he won't be able to declare war every five minutes or burn the place down." Bobby chuckled at the expression on Dean's face as he passed by the bed and headed towards the door.

Left alone the two Winchesters looked at each other. Sam put the cloth back into the bowl of water, and sat closer to Dean's side so their shoulders were touching.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better. I hate it when you're sick."

"Why? Because I go crazy?" asked Dean, his lips twitching up into a tiny smile.

"That's only a small part of it. There was a few times I was even thinking about taking you to the hospital, your fever was too high, you were imagining things that weren't even there. It's not often that you get sick, and when you do... it's really bad. You really scared me, you know," he whispered, lowering his head, and staring down at his hands.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and stared at him. "I er... I'm sorry?"

"You can't help what you do when you have a fever. After everything you did for me as a kid, taking care of you when you're sick only pays back a little bit of that. I don't mind taking care of you... No matter how crazy you get."

"I hate it when I don't feel right, and I hate it even more when people have to take care of me."

"Well, that's what brothers do. They take care of each other no matter what," Sam told him, placing his hand over Dean's and squeezing slightly. "You always say it's your job to take care of me, but you always seem to forget that it's my job to take care of you... you just don't let me until you feel so bad that you nearly collapse."

Dean sighed, and shook his head as he looked down at Sam's hand over his. "I can't just stop. I've been taking care of myself since I was four. It's not easy to give it up."

"I'm not asking you to give it all up. Stop putting everything on your own shoulders and let me carry some of it for you. We'll be there for each other... The Winchesters against the rest of the world."

"You forgot Bobby."

"Right, so it's the Winchesters and Bobby against the rest of the world. Can you stop taking everything on yourself and let me do my job?"

Dean shrugged and smiled. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

When Bobby came back into the room, he was carrying a few bags of shopping for the two brothers now that Dean wasn't so sick anymore. Placing the bags onto the table, he started to unpack and held up a takeout bag and a slice of pie.

"I got ya some of yer favourites. There's M&Ms for afterwards, and I got ya some beer," said Bobby, putting the burger and fries onto a plate and carrying it over to the bed. "There ya go."

"Wow. Thanks Bobby. You're the best."

"I know. Tell me something I don't know," said Bobby with a wink, carefully placing the plate onto Dean's knee. "Don't eat too fast, okay? We don't want ya to end up sick again."

"Kay." Dean picked up one of the fries and put it in his mouth, chewing hungrily. "Oh wow. That tastes awesome," he said, his stomach growling again. "I'm starving."

"We can hear that."

"Mmm. Want some?" he offered, gesturing to the plate with his free hand.

"No. You eat it. You could do with some food after the past week you've had."

"Let's hope it's a long time before it happens again," said Bobby, sitting back on the other bed, relaxing against the pillows. It was good to finally relax, with a mad/delirious/sick young man to take care of, you didn't have time to relax before something insane happened.

It wasn't long before Bobby fell asleep, leaving the two young men to entertain themselves. Both were thankfully as sane as each other and wouldn't get into too much mischief.

The next day

Since Dean was finally fully sane again (more or less), he didn't want to stay at the motel any longer than he had to, so him and Sam were following Bobby back to his place for a few days.

As he started the car, Dean jumped back startled when Ozzy Osbourne suddenly blared out of the radio full blast, singing 'Crazy train'. "What the hell?"

Sam was frowning as he stared at the radio. "That wasn't the last song that was in the car. It was Metallica."

"I know. But how did... Nevermind." Dean shrugged and started singing along to the song as he followed Bobby's car out of the parking lot and into the road. "...Mental wounds not healing. Life's a bitter shame. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train..."

It was when the next two songs came on- Black sabbath's 'Am I going insane' and Ozzy's 'Diary of a madman', that Sam started to wonder if Bobby had done something when he had borrowed the car the day before.

Dean either didn't care or didn't notice, he just continued singing to his hearts content as he drove down the road with the windows down and the music loud, his fingers tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. "...Sanity now it's beyond me, there's no choice. Diary of a madman, Walk the line again today. Entries of confusion, Dear diary, I'm here to stay. Manic depression befriends me. Hear his voice. Sanity now it's beyond me..."

The next song was 'Welcome home (sanatorium)' by Metallica, and then Queen's 'I'm going slightly mad' came on, making Sam laugh. He still remembered Dean giving a concert in the motel room with the wok just a few days ago.

It was when his phone started ringing and he heard the ringtone had been changed to 'They're coming to take me away hahaa' that Dean shook his head as he cancelled the call, knowing who was calling him. "I'm going to kill Bobby."

"When did you notice?"

"Since crazy train. But most of these songs are awesome, so I'll let it go... I'M GOING SLIGHTLY MAD! I'M GOING SLIGHTLYYYY MAD!"


"IT FINALLY HAPPENED... I'M SLIGHTLY MAAAAAAAAD!" Dean started nodding and swaying in his seat, being careful to keep the car straight on the road as he drove. "I'M ONE CARD SHORT OF A FULL DECK! I'M NOT QUITE THE SHILLING!"


"I'M COMING DOWN WITH A FEVER! I'M REALLY OUT TO SEA!" Dean grinned over at Sam, and nodded as they sang the next part together.


Sam stopped singing for a minute to say, "People who hear us are going to think we are slightly mad"



The smile never left Sam's face as he sang and had fun with his fully-recovered brother. If people did think they were crazy... Dean was right, so what. If it was crazy to sing with your brother, then call him crazy.

He was just glad Dean no longer was.

*The End*

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