The Hand He Had Been Dealt | Destiel

Broken Night

Before I start this, I have to say that since I am in America, I use Fahrenheit instead of Celsius, but 104 Fahrenheit is 40 Celsius. Just FYI XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stirred in Dean's arms despite how hard Dean tried not to disturb him as he opened the door to Sam's room. The toddler stared up at him, oddly quiet as Dean put him into bed. Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead, not saying anything in case it riled him up before stepping back. He gave Sam a worn smile before leaving the room, rubbing his hand through his hair as he headed towards the bathroom for a shower before work tomorrow.

"De?" He heard Sam say and turned to find the toddler standing at his doorway, tears already welling in his eyes, "Can you come to my birthday?"

Dean stifled a sigh, walking over and patting Sam's head gently, ruffling his hair gently with his fingers, "I'm sorry, Sammy. I have to work. Cas will be there though," Dean offered, his brows creasing with desperation when Sam just began to cry, trying to hide it behind closed fists.

"I want you to st-stay," Sam hiccuped, beginning to sniffle as the tears fell over his fists and onto the floor, "I want you to stay!" 

The sigh Dean managed to hide before came back at full force as he pulled Sam into his arms, holding him gently, "I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered, fighting the sting in the back of his eyes. Sam's crying always hurt him in ways that nothing else ever did and the exhaustion did nothing to help.

"Stay! Stay! No more sad! Stay!" Sam shouted, his fists smacking Dean, hurting more emotionally than physically. He swallowed the tears back, breathing through his nose as he tried to keep a hold on his brother as he threw his tantrum.

"I can't, Sam. I'm sorry," Dean whispered, losing control when Sam tried to push away from him, to get out of his arms. He didn't let go but leaned against the wall, sliding down as he began to cry as well, his hold tightening on Sam.

"You can! Stay, De! No more leaving!" Sam yelled, managing to get out of Dean's grip enough to smack Dean's chest. Sam's face was red and tears ran down his pudgy cheeks unchecked as he hit Dean again and again.

Dean pulled Sam back to him, holding him tightly in a crushing hug as the boy struggled, holding the back of his head and rocking back and forth as his tears turned into sobs, his back hitting the wall with each movement. Sam struggled to get away, even going as far as biting Dean, but Dean refused to let go, whispering how sorry he was over and over again until Sam's movements got less violent, and then eventually stilled.

Dean pressed a kiss to the side of Sam's head, his crying getting louder now that Sam was asleep. His entire body shook, and it took several minutes before he forced himself to stand, stumbling to his room with Sam in his arms.

He nearly crashed onto the bed when he bumped into it, but he stayed standing long enough to place Sam on side then shuffled to his own side, collapsing onto the bed and pulling Sam close. The pillow hid most of the noise from his sobs, being careful so he wouldn't wake up Sam. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn was beginning before Dean realized that he probably should get up for work, though the dead feeling in his body from a sleepless night suggested otherwise. He instead looked down at Sam, finally sleeping peacefully after three hours. Now that Dean was thinking about it, maybe that had just been a hallucination. Had Sam even woken up after his tantrum?

Jesus, did he have a mental breakdown?

Even if he did, the doorbell going off brought some life into him, causing him to stir just a little and raise his head, looking towards the hallway with disdain. Still, Dean pulled himself out of bed, pulling the Sam out of bed and into his arms. He didn't think Sam could handle it if he woke up without his brother with him right now.

Sam sniffled, rubbing his nose against the side of Dean's neck before looking up at Dean with sad eyes, "Door?" He asked, the tone in his voice nothing like it used to be, before all this mess happened to them. Dean managed to nod, but not before several deep breaths to compose himself after that thought.

Castiel was already walking into the house before Dean reached the door, but he couldn't help but be thankful as he set Sam down, letting the toddler run over to Castiel like he did every morning that he was awake. He didn't know why he wasn't surprised when Sam clung to his leg instead, hiding behind it as he was scared he was going to be yelled at.

"Dean? What happened?" Castiel asked, hurrying over and cupping under Dean's jaw, staring at him with concern in his eyes. Dean tried to shake his head, say nothing was wrong as usual, but the words wouldn't come out and he found himself beginning to cry again instead, his hand moving up to clutch onto Castiel's trenchcoat like it was a lifeline.

"It's okay, Dean. There is no need to cry," Castiel soothed, rubbing his thumb along Dean's cheekbone and catching the stray tears that were beginning to fall. Castiel frowned, one hand moving up to Dean's forehead and resting there, his eyes beginning to grow wide.

"Dean, you have a fever," Castiel commented, his brows creasing in worry as he looked down at Sam, then back at Dean, "Sit down on the couch while I find a thermometer. Sam, come with me so you do not get sick."

After Sam detached from his leg, he moved over to the couch, falling onto it and closing his eyes as a dizziness began to take over him. He barely even noticed Castiel pressing a metal bit into his mouth, or the annoying ass beep of the thermometer, focusing only on the cool rag placed on his forehead and the warm hand brushing comfortingly through his hair. 

"Dean, your fever is a 104. Sam and I will go to the store to get you some medicine," Castiel stated softly, and when Dean finally opened his eyes, Castiel's blue eyes swam into view.

"Need to...work," Dean groaned before he had to shut his eyes, nausea rising in him from the motion sickness of his shaky vision. Castiel let out a noise of refusal, and it's almost like he could feel the man shake his head.

"I'll give them a call. You need rest," Castiel urged, the couch shifting as Castiel pushed off of it, probably to stand up if Dean had to guess, "We'll be right back, so don't move, okay?"

"You don't have to worry about that," Dean muttered his deep breaths barely concealing the sudden urge to vomit all over the place. Still, he ignored it, listening to Castiel's retreating footsteps and Sam's soft whispers asking if Dean was going to be okay.