WOW: Bonfire. Dean's under doctors orders to rest. Sam tries to help, but is Dean grateful? Is he heck ...

Disclaimer: Don't own them and their lives are probably the better for it.


"Hey dude? "

Squeezing his sleeping brother's shoulder, Sam smiled as Dean stirred, blinking blearily up at him.

Snuffling and groaning, Dean laboured into something approaching a sitting position.

"I got hot lemon drinks," explained Sam, "and extra-soft tissues, oh, and some library books."

Ghosting a hand under his dripping nose, Dean frowned as he examined the dog-eared books; "Bonfire of the Vanities? First Among Equals? The Hobbit?" He glared at Sam, "where's Thelma Thunderthighs and the Rabies Chronicles?"

Sam shrugged, "sorry man, the pickings at the library were pretty slim."

Dean flopped theatrically back into the bed.

"At least they'll help me sleep."