Dean let go of his brother's hand, his eyes following Sam as the younger man moved away to sit on the other bed. He could tell Sam was still worrying, despite his words, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Sam was going to worry regardless of what he said until he was better. So when the younger man told him to go to sleep, Dean didn't argue. Rest would help him recover and he hoped he'd sleep this off soon enough, whatever it was.

After that he didn't wake much during the day, at least not for very long, that he remembered. At some point during the day he'd woken when he felt Sam strip the sheets and blankets off of him. Grumbling unhappily at the cold wet sheet that was draped over him instead but he fell again soon after.

Tossing fitfully and moaning softly in pain as the fever spiked. He had dreams that he was on fire. That he was burning up from the inside out. Blood pumping through his veins like boiling acid. Dean groaned when he felt Sam shaking him, lifting him up. He understood what Sam was saying, though only barely. He could barely force his eyes open, and couldn't make himself focus on his brother's worried face.

"Burns…" He slurred barely coherent.

"I know, Dean, that's what we're gonna try to take care of," he answered, not real hopeful that Dean would understand everything. "I've got you… let's go." Dean could hardly bear any of his own weight, so Sam practically picked him up. If his brother hadn't been so sick, he might have teased him a bit.

It was a big production, but maybe an hour later, Sam had Dean bathed and back in bed. It took another hour, practically, to make Dean eat a little soup, and drink water. By the time he was done, he was pretty damned harried and tired as hell. "Guess I wouldn't make a good nurse," he muttered, feeling Dean's forehead again. What the hell? The bath had cooled him down but already, it felt like Dean was burning up again.

All night long, Sam nursed his brother, forcing water down his throat at intervals since he was sweating so bad, and bringing him cold compresses. More than a few times, he was ready to haul Dean to the car and get him to the doctor. But each time he was ready to make that decision, a voice in the back of his head told him they'd been here before, and that Dean had been just as delirious as he was now, but he'd pulled out of it fine with time.

It was still a few hours till dawn when Sam returned to bed, next to Dean. Exhausted, he drifted into yet another semi-asleep state, hoping that some rest would bring a change for the better in Dean.