Author's Notes: First off, I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed--you guys are all awesome and it really meant a lot to me. :D Also, I wanted to mention that if you liked this story, you should check out the other two in this 'verse, "And Karma Laughed the Hardest" and "The Best He Can," both of which you'll find in my profile. I can't believe I actually have a whole 'verse of just sick!Dean fics--I'm a little twisted, I guess. ;) Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


The third morning after his transfer out of the ICU, Dean's climbing the walls. He still has a low-grade fever and a constant headache, but the tubes are all out and he's down to non-narcotic painkillers. Yesterday Sam and John brought him a burger and fries and the Indiana Jones trilogy on VHS and he almost forgot he was stuck in the stupid hospital. However, another night of nurses waking him up every couple hours to check his stupid vital signs that didn't even change and he's ready to stick thermometers where the sun doesn't shine, so when the day-shift doctor comes in on rounds, Dean gives him his most winning smile. "You gonna spring me anytime soon?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," replies the doctor. "As soon as your father signs the discharge paperwork, you're good to go."

As if on cue, John strides into the room with Dean's backpack in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. "You ready to blow this joint?"

"You have no idea," replies Dean.

John tosses the backpack on the end of Dean's bed. "Get changed and I'll meet you downstairs."

Dean mock-salutes him and unzips the bag to find his favorite AC/DC t-shirt, jeans and boots. He raises an eyebrow at the doctor. "A little privacy, huh?"

"Of course," he replies, stepping backwards. He gestures for John to precede him and follows him out the door, closing it behind him. Dean changes out of the hospital gown and stuffs it in his bag so he can burn it when he gets home. He shoulders the backpack and takes the elevator down to the lobby.

John and Sam are both waiting for him and Sam's face lights up when the doors open. Dean thumps him on the back. "You miss me, squirt?"

"I guess," Sam answers, grinning. "But I'll miss sleeping in your room and watching your TV more."

"You better not have drooled on my pillow," Dean replies as they exit the front doors. Upon seeing the freshly-washed Impala gleaming in the sunlight, he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. "Baby, you are a sight for sore eyes."

"You did a nice job with the waxing, kiddo," John tells Sam. "She looks real good."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "You washed the car?"

"I was bored last night," Sam replies with a shrug. "And, you know, I kinda owed you."

Dean ruffles Sam's hair. "Not bad, Sammy. Not bad."