A/N: Considering that I wrote Sam, Dean, Cas, even John sick... Why leave Bobby out of the fun? Pre-wheelchair Bobby. Don't be surprised if you see one for Frankie soon.

The Best Medicine for the Common Cold

By: LOSTrocker

"That sounded pretty," Dean remarked as he pulled his cell away from his ear.

Sam heard Bobby cough roughly on his end, which Sam gave Dean a very concerned look with those puppy dog eyes of his.

"Y'kay?" Dean asked the older hunter as he placed the phone back at his ear. "Are ya sure? Uh-huh. Yeah, 'kay. We'll call ya when we get where we're goin'." And with that Dean hung up.

"Is Bobby a'right?" asked Sam. He could hear the tail end of the convo, leaving him with a slight panic look on his face.

"He says he is but I know he ain't." Dean answered as he spun the Impala around in the opposite direction of where they were suppose to be going. "It's probably nothin' but a cold. That shit has been goin' 'round." Dean noted, calming his baby brother down by a hair. He chuckled to himself when the look of dread faded from Sammy's eyes. Then again, he shouldn't be laughing. Common cold or something much worse... He didn't know what they would do without Bobby. Thats why he'd done a 360 in the middle of the road.

"Bobby's?" Sammy questioned.

"Yeah," was Dean's answer.

Sam didn't argue there. The case could wait. Bobby couldn't. It wasn't like Bobby had anyone had anyone to take care of him.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," Bobby said to himself when heard the familiar sound of the Impala and Dean's music blaring from the speakers. Sure enough, there the boys were getting out and headed straight inside without so much as a knock. "Oh puh-lease, yer highness, come right on in." Bobby kidded with them.

"What are ya doin' up?" Dean demanded without a hi or hello.

"Smellin' the roses," Bobby said. "What does it look like?"

Sam glanced around them and could see the pile of books and weaponry. It was what they needed for their latest hunt. Sam smiled, even when he wasn't with them he was preparing himself just in case the boys needed back up.

"What the Hell are ya doin' here?" he cursed at them. "Shouldn't ya be up North by now?"

"Shoulda, wouldda, coulda," Dean muttered.

"Dean, it's no joke." Bobby reminded him.

"Yeah, well, neither are ya funny man." Dean made known, and before Bobby knew it Dean had his hand on his forehead. "Ha, I knew it. Yer sick."

"It's nothin'."

"Then why are ya warm?" Dean asked as he crossed his arms.

"'Cuz it's hot in here."

"It's freezin' actually," Sam corrected.

Bobby glared at him."Ya boys always complainin' 'bout-" his temper was raging up some unpleasant and unwelcomed coughs. It made his chest hurt a little, but nothing he couldn't handle which he was trying to convince the boys. They weren't biting.

"Have ya takin' anything fer it?" Dean wanted to know.

Thats when Bobby smirked and held up a bottle of Jack. "Best medicine for the common cold."

Dean couldn't help but notice how empty the bottle was getting. The last time he'd seen it that thing was full. Dean figured what ever Bobby had it was in his system for awhile now. Dean yanked it out of Bobby's hand. "C'mon!" Bobby pleaded. He looked like a kid who got a cookie taken away. Of course, that look was replaced by I'm-goin'-kick-Dean's-ass look if the bottle wasn't given back.

"Don't give me that look," Dean warned, who knew it all too well. "It'll give ya wrinkles."

"'Sides the ones ya two idjits have al'ready givin' me?" Bobby returned. He figured if he wasn't around Dean and Sam so much he would look at least ten years younger. They worried the shit out of him sometimes.

While Bobby and Dean had bickered Sam had all ready pulled out his phone and got in touch with Ellen and told her what was going on. She understood and would send one of her hunter friends out ASAP. "Oh, and tell Bobby I hope he feels better."

"Will do." Sam confirmed and hung up. He looked back at Dean and Bobby. "Ellen has done sent someone else, and she hopes ya feel better Bobby."

When most people would have appreciated that, Bobby gave him an eye roll. Let's face it – Bobby Singer wasn't "most people". "Should I expect flowers or maybe a card?" he asked sarcastically. The last thing he wanted was someone else's sympathy.

"Sam, get his old ass into bed." Dean demanded and pointed to the staires.

"What are ya gonna do?" Sammy asked.

"Have ya eatin' anythin'?" Dean asked Bobby.

"Ye-ah." Bobby sang out. "Do ya think I'm stupid?"

"Don't make me answer that." Dean told him with a pointed finger. He went back to Sam. "I'm goin' to fix him somethin' to eat."

Sam's eyes went wide with fear. The last time Dean had tried to cook... Well, lets just say that Dean Winchester and cooking didn't fit in the same sentence.

"Maybe I should do that, and ya-" Sam tried.

"No, no, no." Dean argued. "I got this. Ya get him."

The truth was Dean was scared as shit when came to times like these because he knew how stubborn Bobby could be thats why he left him with small Sammy. Sam knew too. He was pissed. "DEAN!" he cried out after him but Dean was all ready in the kitchen. "Shit,"

"Yer move, princess." Bobby challenged him.

Sam sighed but stood his ground. He wouldn't let Bobby win not this time since his health was a concern. "Upstairs young man, now. Move it!" Sam urged and pushed Bobby lightly along to the direction of his bed room.

Bobby had to give Sammy some credit. He grew some when the time called for it. "A'right, there ya go, one step, oh, and here's 'nother." Sam said as they headed up.

"I can make it up the freakin' stairs Sam." Bobby reminded him.

Sam resisted the rest of the way and got him into his room. "Why don't ya change into somethin' more comfortable?" Sam suggested. A tee, jeans, and boots didn't exactly define the word comfort when one was sick. He knew from experience.

"Can I do that myself or do ya want wanna do that too?" Bobby joked.

"Oh no, I expect ya to do that one on yer own." Sammy agreed there. "I'm gonna go down and check on Dean and if yer not in that bed when I come up I'm tyin' ya down." He closed the door behind him before Bobby could say otherwise. Sam hoped that Bobby still had a kitchen when he got there. Much to his surprise, the kitchen and Dean were in one piece.

Dean had a nice tray of some soup, a PB+J sandwich (with the crust cut off) and some OJ. Sam crossed his arms. "I'm impressed." Sam complimented.

"Look, one time man. Get over it." Dean told Sam. "I've had practice since than y'know?" Dean reminded his brother. The first time he had tried he was really young. John or Bobby never let him near the stove again after Sammy had gotten sick and he nearly burnt down the apartment when he tried to fix Sam some soup. They were still wondering to this day how he managed to burn water. He managed a talent now since Sam got sick at the drop of a hat and he had to take care of his butt. "How come yer not up there with him? He could've snuck out!"

"Nah." Sammy assured him.

The two exchanged worried glances. He wouldn't? With that in mind they both ran up the stairs just to make sure. Dean holding on tightly to the tray in the process. Sam burst in front of him so he could open the door for his brother. They stopped when Bobby was tucked in nicely under the covers. Bobby was out, snoring roughly due to the cold.

"What are we gonna do now?" Sam asked.

"I'm jest gonna leave it here." Dean placed it on Bobby's nightstand. "He can get some of it when he gets up. C'mon, let him rest. He needs it." Dean knew that was the best way to cure anything. He lead Sammy out of the room and back downstairs.

Bobby wasn't sure what had jolted him awake. He figured it was the old floor boards. Bobby saw the door close. That was probably Sam and Dean. His guess was figured right when he turned beside him to see a nice tray out for him. Bobby laughed. Dean did good. He felt his stomach rumble. He hadn't had anything. The soup was warm going down his throat. It eased some of the pain. Bobby took notice how the crusts were cut of and he was reminded thats what he use to do with Dean's sandwiches when he was a boy. He hated the crusts.

"I'll be damn," he said with a small smile. Still, Bobby smelt it just to be sure. It was fine he found as he took one Hell of a bite out of it.

Downstairs, Bobby wasn't the only one who was out. Sammy had dozed off too. He was sprawled out on the sofa. Dean didn't blame him. He was tired too. However, he didn't have the luxury. He was the big brother. He was the one who had to sleep with one eye open.

Dean tossed a lighter blanket over Sammy before he decided to see how Bobby was doing. He smiled when he found that all the food was gone, and the OJ too. "Hey, yer up, and ya eat!" Dean was glad to see that. That mean he would be able to get better quicker.

Bobby shook his head. "Dean, why are ya doin' all this?" he asked. "I'm clearly able to take care of myself."

Dean went by him so he could get the tray and take back to the kitchen. "I know Bobby," Dean said. "It's jest that... Well, you've taken care of us so many times y'know, and I don't really like ya livin' up here by yer lonesome. It worries me a'right?" Dean admitted. "I jest... if anythin' ever happened to ya..."

"Don't be talkin' like that boy," Bobby warned him.

Dean smirked. "'Sides, who else would be willin' take care of yer ass?"

Bobby tried not to laugh. Leave it to Dean to ruin the moment. That was his way though. "Did ya take yer medicine like a big boy?"

"If I say yes do I get a lollipop?" Bobby kidded with a sniff and a sneeze.

"Do ya got some tissue with ya?"

Bobby held up the blanket. That counted didn't it?

Dean laughed, and he wondered where he got it from?

"I'll bring ya some in." Dean promised. Then something happened – he sneezed. Ah, crap. That only made Bobby smirk. His turn was coming. Now, Bobby was Hellbent on getting better so he could smother over Dean so he could return the favor. That was the great thing about getting sick: you could spread the love.

End.