Chili Cook-Off,

Chili Cook-Off,

By Surplus Imagination

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Ah, at last, the end. I hope I made this last part funny enough.

Previously in Chapter 6:

"Medicine?" Sam asked. "For fever?" Dean could see Sam staring at his hand in revulsion. "Is this a suppository?" Sam's voice went up an octave at the question.


"Oh, man. That's so wrong." Sam hastily wiped his sticky fingers on the used napkin. "What the hell did you do? Miss?"

"Not the second time," Dean snorted. Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Here, Dean. Turn here," Bobby ordered as Dean turned into the clinic drive. "Sam, your brother only did what he had to do."

"I know. Thanks, Dean," Sam said sincerely. After a pause, he added, "But next time, let me do that myself." In the back seat, Bobby broke into laughter.

"Sure thing, little brother," Dean replied thinking of his session with an unresponsive Sam. "Sure thing."

Chapter 7 – Hospital Scrubs

Dean pulled up under the canopied entrance way to the small clinic. Dean could see Jefferson standing outside the emergency door with a wheel chair. It was hard to miss the man. Jefferson was about the same height as Sam, but had fifty pounds of muscle on his giant brother. A completely shaven head only served to accentuate the burly doctor's dark skin. Jefferson always stood out in a crowd. He had the passenger door open before Dean had completely stopped the car.

"Hey, Sam. Long time, no see." Jefferson immediately crouched and looked Sam over. Dean cut the engine and quickly unbuckled. The sky still poured rain, but they were sheltered under the canopy of the entrance way.

"Hey, Jefferson," Sam slurred with a weak smile. Small beads of sweat dotted Sam's face and trailed down his cheeks.

"I hear you've been feeling poorly. Why don't you come inside and let me take a look," the big man smoothed while feeling Sam's forehead. "That's quite some fever you're sporting there. What else is wrong?" Jefferson looked up at Dean at that last request. Sam answered instead.

"I've been coming down with something for a day, or so. Then at lunch, Dean & I stopped at a chili cook-off. I think I ate too much because I started throwing up a couple of hours later….and then got the runs. It's been pretty bad, but I'm sure I'll be fine." Sam's voice trailed off as he slowly closed his eyes appearing to fall asleep.

"Without a doubt," Jefferson sighed. "Never met a Winchester that wasn't 'fine' regardless of the state of his body." He pulled out a thermometer and took a reading. Frowning, he removed the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to Sam's lungs. "Sam, are you having a hard time breathing?" Sam only nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Jefferson patted Sam's shoulder and stood up.

"Sounds like there is fluid in his lungs; could be developing pneumonia. What ever else is wrong probably set the stage for that. Are there any other symptoms?" Jefferson asked.

"On the way here, he threw up what looked like blood," Bobby answered.

Jefferson looked surprised at this, but said nothing. From the car, Sam reached out to tug Jefferson's arm.

"I think its back," Sam wheezed, pulling Jefferson down to his level. "Man, you promised that it wouldn't come back."

Bobby & Dean shared a silent look of confusion.

"Sam, 'it' doesn't come back on it's own after six years," Jefferson firmly avowed. "You're having those symptoms again? You promised me that you'd be careful from now on."

Sam shook his head wildly, and then paused to start nodding in an exaggerated way. "Dean says it's his fault, but I don't think it is, man."

"Dean gave you the clap?" Jefferson practically shrieked, turning a shocked face toward the older Winchester who was hovering just behind his shoulder.

Stunned, Dean took a step back. "What? Hell, no!" Dean bellowed, arms gesturing wildly. "It was a suppository! I dropped a suppository in his shorts and Sam found the melted mess and started freaking out in the car." Dean visibly shuddered with his whole body. "It was for the fever. Sam couldn't hold anything down."

"I knew it would come back," Sam groaned and bent at the waist in pain. "Never should have slept with all three of them," he unwittingly admitted. The downward motion of Sam's body caused an involuntary release in 'pressure'. All three standing men took a momentary step back.

"Good thing we are out of the car with that one," Bobby quipped, reaching for the wheelchair. "Can we move this inside?"

"Wait a minute. You treated my brother six years ago for 'the clap'?" Dean asked angrily, crowding the doctor. "Sixteen years old and he shows up with gonorrhea and you never told me?"

"Doctor-patient privilege, Dean. You know that drill," Jefferson calmly stared Dean down. "Unless you want me to tell Sam about that time with the x-ray." Jefferson waited with a look of expectation on his face. Dean didn't reply, but he did back off, expression tense.

"I must be missing all the good stuff over the years," Bobby groused. "That's not important now. We can all get drunk and swap stories later. The rain is getting worse and Sam is seriously stinkin' the whole area up."

From the car, Sam shook his head and pointed at Dean who didn't deny it this time. Jefferson shook his head and pushed Dean out of the way. He grabbed the wheelchair and easily got Sam out of the car and into the seat. Bobby grabbed the keys to park the Impala, while Dean went in with Sam, flip-flopping his way noisily along.

"Nice shoes," Jefferson snorted as he wheeled Sam into the clinic. Dean sighed at his choice of glow-in-the-dark flip-flops for the second time that day. He followed a laughing Jefferson into the clinic, grateful that for once he wouldn't be stopped to fill out paperwork.

The 'clinic' was really a twenty bed hospital that served the rural tri-county area. It was well stocked and technologically up-to-date. Three extremely attractive nurses stopped talking to stare at the brothers entering in with Jefferson. Dean thought that the attention was due to his dripping water all over their clean floor. In reality, it was due to how Dean looked in his soaking wet t-shirt and black pants.

"Damn!" One blonde nurse exclaimed. Dean blushed and apologized for the mess. "I'll come back out and clean up the water just as soon as my brother is settled," he swore. The trio of women just giggled and appreciatively watched his clothing-molded body walk away. The three quickly threw a round of 'rock-paper-scissors'. The red-head won out to the groans of the other two.

In the triage room, Jefferson tried to get Sam situated on the exam table, but lost out to the bathroom. With a groan, Sam lurched up out of the wheel chair and stumbled into the tiny enclosed lavatory. Dean moved to follow, but Jefferson stilled him with a firm grip on the shoulder. "You leave Sam alone about what you think happened six years ago. It took me some serious talking to get him take treatment and open up back then. He was so worried that he'd disappoint you and your Dad going after that coven of witches alone."

"Sam went after a coven of witches alone. At sixteen," Dean echoed.

"They weren't really witches," Jefferson grinned. "Just a group of bored, young housewives lusting after the teenager who mowed their lawn for extra cash. After Sam realized that he had been duped, he was worried about your's and John's reaction."

"Well, he should have been worried. Witches are really hard to deal with. I would have kicked his ass back then. He should have known better," Dean muttered wiping excess water dripping from his wet hair. "Did he really sleep with three women?" Dean asked peering worriedly at the bathroom door.

"At the very least," Jefferson affirmed with a big grin. "And I can vouch personally for the fact that all five were extremely attractive."

"At sixteen?" Dean marveled and puffed up his chest. "Disappointed? Hell, I'd have been proud," Dean strutted a little, remembering his painfully shy brother at sixteen. A little of himself must have rubbed off on the boy, not that he knew it at the time.

Eventually they got Sam out of the bathroom and did a more thorough exam. The red-headed nurse came in and efficiently took vital signs, started an IV and drew vials of blood at Jefferson's direction. She got Sam out of his wet clothes and into a dry hospital gown. Dean swore he hear her mutter, 'My, what a big boy' as she dressed Sammy, but he might have been mistaken. She placed a nasal canula for oxygen in Sam's nose before taking the blood to the lab. Dean wasn't mistaken when she winked suggestively at him as she left.

"I asked for a rush job. We should get an answer on the blood tests within the hour," Jefferson stated listening to Sam's lungs again. "I have already given him something strong to bring down that fever. As for the rest, I suspect some form of dysentery is causing the bloody vomiting and diarrhea. I have no idea what is causing the fluid in the lungs. We'll get a chest x-ray to confirm, but I'm positive he also has pneumonia."

"Dysentery?" Dean asked, confused. "I thought people only got that out of the country."

"Salmonellosis is a type of dysentery often caused by contaminated meats. That's very common in here. Sam said that you went to a chili cook-off? Perfect place to pick something like that up."

Dean nodded his head. He certainly had his share of chili problems that day.

Jefferson continued. "I don't think Sam has that type. I think he picked up amoebic dysentery instead. It fits the symptoms better. Was Sam in contact with human feces in the last few days?"

"We did a poltergeist job in a preschool yesterday afternoon. The dammed thing was living in the sewer system. Screwed with the toilets in a big way," Dean replied.

"Bingo!" Jefferson gave Sam a firm shake to wake him up. "Sam, can you tell me what happened in with the poltergeist? Were you listening?"

Sam peeled his eyes open. He looked more lucid that he had all evening. Dean felt a surge of relief.

"Yeah, I'm listening. I'm starting to feel better. Can I go now?" Sam asked and struggled to rise up on one elbow.

Jefferson pushed Sam back down. "You lie flat until I tell you to get up. Now spill, what happened with the poltergeist?"

Sam sighed and covered his eyes with one arm. Without looking he tiredly announced, "It got the drop on me and pushed my head in the toilet. Damn near drowned in that pint-sized pot."

"And you were planning on telling me this when?" Dean demanded. "I need to know these things, Sam."

Sam just covered the rest of his face with the other arm.

"That explains the water in the lungs," Jefferson mused. "We will start Sam on a combination of antibiotics once we get the blood tests back. Some good drugs, a lot of fluids and some real rest and Sam will be good as new. Dysentery and pneumonia are both easily treated. He'll have to stay the rest of the night, but will be able to go home once his fever goes down."

Relief replaced ire as Dean realized that Sam would be fine. "Hear that, Sammy-boy? You are gonna be fine and the nurses around here are hot! That red-head was checking you out a minute ago."

"Go away, Dean." Sam ordered through his arms.

"Actually," Jefferson interjected, "I think she was checking you out, Dean. Things get a little relaxed around here on the graveyard shift."

"Really?" Now that Sam was going to be fine, Dean was instantly interested in getting his own 'local action'.

"I'd say so. You are big star around here," Jefferson grinned. Lying on the gurney, Sam gave his own snort of amusement. "We caught your performance on You Tube. The nurses have been playing it in the break room all day. Quite the show-stopper!" Jefferson crowed as he left the room. "Sam, I'm gonna get you a room. Be right back, man."

As Jefferson left the room, the blond nurse came in pushing a portable x-ray machine. She smiled coquettishly at Dean as she set the equipment up. It took Dean all of five seconds to take in each and every one of her positive 'attributes' as she leaned, bent, moved and positioned the machine for use. Her hospital nurses' scrubs somehow managed to accentuate her figure, rather than cover it up. Dean quickly grew appreciative of how much leaning, bending, moving and positioning the task took.

Beside him, Sam roused from his doze at the noise as the brunette nurse also entered. The brunette gave Dean a wide smile as she obviously checked out his form. At a quiet word from the blonde, she turned to help her co-worker. The two conferred and then, surprisingly giggled, before raising Sam up on his bed.

Dean watched the blonde lower Sam's gown into a ready position for the chest picture, and then blush attractively at Sam's answering guileless smile. If only his little brother had any idea how women fluttered around the big lout, Sam would realize that he was real competition for his big brother. Then again, if Sam had really scored three girls all at once at the tender age of sixteen…. Dean's musing broke off as the two women giggled again, both pointedly staring.

"Sir, if you are up to it, we need you to leave the room for a minute," the blonde grinned nudging her companion. The brunette laughed as she donned the lead apron in preparation for the x-ray. Her eyes kept darting downward as she grinned.

Dean grinned back at the boisterous duo. His brain was already working scenarios involving traditional nurse's uniforms and an empty exam room. His revelry was broken by Sam calling his name. Looking over, he saw Sam mouth the words 'stripper pants' and flicked his finger downward.

Gaze torn from the blonde and brunette, Dean's smile faltered as he glanced down at himself. His still wet clothing stuck to him like a second skin revealing his interest in the nurses in a three-dimensional way. He was seriously tenting!

As if on cue, the two nurses giggled again. Dean pasted his grin back on his face and looked up only to find Bobby walking in with the red-headed nurse. Bobby never missed a beat as he entered and remarked, "Damn, Dean! You look like one happy 'camper' there. I take it things are looking up?" Sam snorted on the table.

"It's cold in here, I'll have you know. And I'm….I'm…wet," Dean stammered as his 'ridgepole' began to wilt.

"Well, lets get you out of those wet clothes," the red-head enthused. She reached over to grasp Dean's arm and pulled him from the room to the obvious dismay of the brunette. The blonde chose that moment to adjust Sam's gown one last time with an alluring grin. Dean flashed a look of triumph at Bobby as he allowed himself to be led. The remaining blonde nurse chased Bobby from the room and finished Sam's x-rays.

About thirty minutes later, a smirking Dean found Sam's new room wearing a dry pair of light green scrubs. He greeted his brother and Bobby as he flopped in an empty chair stretching his arms languorously behind his head. "You are definitely looking better, Sam."

"Fever's down to 101 degrees," Bobby stated, "and he hasn't had to run to the toilet the whole time you've been gone."

"I'm feeling a lot better," Sam sighed as he sipped on a cup of water. "What took you so long?" Sam did indeed look better. He had progressed from green and flushed to just plain pale. The fever gleam was gone from his eyes, but Dean could still see extreme exhaustion in the bags underneath them. No way Sam was going to leave the hospital in the morning.

"I needed a little help with my clothes," Dean smiled. Before Sam could reply, the red-headed nurse entered the room. Sam and Bobby's jaws dropped as they took in the big 'wet spots' covering strategic areas of her nurse's scrubs. The red-head plopped a bag of obviously wet clothes down on the table beside Dean before scooting from the room, blowing Dean a parting kiss.

"Well, I'll be damned," Bobby laughed. "Seems that you can rise to any occasion, Dean!"

Sam was released two days later with a full range of antibiotics, an inhaler, and firm orders to stay in bed for a week. Dean was ordered to stay away from chili cook-offs and hand-held cameras.

Jefferson proved to be right about Sam's symptoms on all counts. His immunities lowered by a common cold and a bout of food poisoning from improperly served chili, Sam managed to contract amoebic dysentery from his dunking in the preschool commode and pneumonia from the toilet water in his lungs from the near drowning. The rapid onset of the latter two was only a function of his weakened state from the first two. Jefferson lectured both brothers on the importance on taking care of their health, not that either one really listened.

As he was being wheeled out of the hospital by the blonde nurse, Heather, Sam watched in amusement as Dean was greeted by many of the hospital staff with slapped high-fives and loud 'Take care, Pit Stop". It was just like Dean to turn on-line embarrassment into a celebrity status. When they reached the Impala, Sam turned his head away to avoid watching the demonstrative good-bye kisses Dean got from both red-headed, Melody, and brunette, Candace.

As Sam rose from the wheelchair he felt a squeeze on his hand and the insertion of a small slip of paper. Heather smiled seductively and whispered, "You call me when you're feeling better, Sam."

First Sam and then Dean got into the Impala. Both brothers sighed and blew out a long breath in unison.

"Ready, Sam?" Dean asked starting up the engine.

"Ready, Pit Stop," Sam grinned. "Dude, you are never going to live that one down."

"Yuk it up, Puke Boy," Dean retorted with a laugh. "I have equal embarrassing moments on you, too." Dean tossed a package into Sam's lap as he pulled out of the hospital. With a last wave at the adoring trio of nurses, Sam looked in the bag.


"I tried to wash the ones in the yard, but Bobby beat me to them," Dean drawled while pulling out into traffic. "He super-glued the fly to the back of the shorts on each pair, so I bought us both new ones."

"Kind of like short-sheeting a bed," Sam laughed. "I was going play that prank."

"Me, too," Dean snorted. "Truce?"

"Until I'm better," Sam smiled. "Then I say we get Bobby back."

"Way ahead of you, little brother." Dean reached between the seats and tossed a small hand-held camera onto Sam's lap.

"Sweet!" Sam grinned in reply. Together, they made their way back to Bobby's house for a week of recuperation. Bobby would never know what hit him!

The End

Jeeze-Louize I thought I'd never finish this. Thank you for your patience. The end of tax season seriously kicked my butt. I hope every last one of you didn't need a filing extension! Let me know if I managed to finish this well. I'm a bit worried that it wasn't funny enough. Thanks for reading!!