Supernatural Fic (M) - (11 Parts) - Complete

[BlueRandom]

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: Don't own the show ...

It's just a start, so there's not much sneezing. So scared about posting this!

Part One

“Sam?” Dean murmured sleepily, examining the faint groove on the left side of his neck that had appeared from resting against the seatbelt on the driver’s side of the Impala.

No response from the younger man, whose hazel eyes were currently closed, a frown indented between them. Dean sighed, gazing restlessly through the frosted windscreen at the bleak scenery surrounding the car. They had pulled over in the middle of nowhere, a short distance from a wide but reasonably deserted road in some part of Maine. Sam had been map-reading, aiming roughly in the direction of a case rumour that Bobby had picked up corresponding to an area of New Hampshire. Nothing too urgent, Dean reminded himself: personally, he wasn’t convinced there was a case in it at all. They’d been planning to check into a motel for the night, but Dean’s eyes had been itching with tiredness and Sam was dozing at intervals in the passenger seat.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, pensively. Snow had settled on the bank leading into a patch of dense woods, but nothing severe enough to cause any havoc with the wheels. Dean turned the dial on the car stereo, dipping it to a low volume as he attempted to tune it into the nearest radio station. A screech of white noise later, and Sam was stirring beside him, blinking reproachfully.

“Rise and shine, Sammy,” his brother greeted him, more cheerily than he felt. The grey weather and the chilled emptiness of the early morning air had a certain dampening effect on his spirits.

“Morning.” Sam flattened his palms over his face, shifting his shoulders with a groan.

“Breakfast?” Dean rummaged on the backseat, thrusting a pork sandwich half-covered by a paper bag towards Sam.

“I don’t even want to think how long that’s been there.” Sam wrinkled his nose, grimacing at the sound of the radio. “You maybe want to turn that down?”

“Why? You wanna listen to the birds?” Dean indicated the lifeless stillness of the area with mocking incredulity.

Sam pursed his lips in an unmistakeable variation of the classic bitch face and pushed open the right hand door of the Impala. Leaning against the cool metal of the trunk, he tugged his jacket more tightly around him and took a swig from a bottle of beer. The taste was sour in his mouth, but he pressed the cold curve of glass to his forehead, letting it temporarily ease the aching pain that had begun to assert itself the previous night.

Behind him, Dean was gargling water, spitting a mouthful of frothing toothpaste onto the ground. Wiping a sleeve across his mouth, he leaned out of the window to call over to Sam. “Hurry up. It’s gonna take a while to get there.”

“I thought you weren’t bothered about this case?” Sam queried, returning to his seat a little grudgingly.

“I’m not. I just want to get it over with, so we can start hitting the real stuff again.” Dean turned the key in the ignition, giving a satisfied jerk of his head at his baby rumbled. “I mean, come on. A man found dead in his kitchen, knife wounds to the chest. Thought to be having an affair. Domestics aren’t exactly our kind of gig.”

“I’m not sure. Bobby was convinced there was something in it.” Sam was massaging the space above his eyes, his face screwed up.

“What’s up?” Taking his gaze off the road, Dean scanned him appraisingly.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Not one of your … you know.” He raised a hand unconsciously to his temple.

“I swear.”

“Sure. We’re pulling up at a diner when we get into town; I’m starving.” Dean inserted a tape into the cassette player, tapping the steering wheel in time to Blue Oyster Cult. “So who’re we starting with?”

“Well, the guy was having an affair. Figured we should go straight to the problem.”

“You got an address?”

Sam nodded, then inhaled sharply. “Hehh …” He winced, cupping his hands over his face. “huh’ihh … hehIHShoo!”

Dean glanced at him, blankly.

“Er, ‘bless you’?” offered Sam.

“Right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Sam lapsed into silence as Dean launched into the second verse of Fire of Unknown Origin, the Impala coasting past the washed out landscape.

_ _ _

[ID2006]

I love Supernatural.

[everest]

Hey! Look! Supernatural! And Sammy too! How lucky can I get?

[snifflechick]

Oooh! I love it. Sam is so cute!!!

I can't wait until the next part

[iluvsneezes]

Yay!! I love sick Sammy. Please continue.

[Silent Sophie]

A new sick!Sammy story! Oh I'm happy!

And I loved this start! How cute when he sneezes covering his faces with cupped hands, it's my favourite! Ahah and I loved him encouraging the "bless you".

Don't be scared, it's a brilliant start and I look forward to the next chapter!

[BlueRandom]

Thank you so much for the comments! Also, I was wondering if anyone knew how to change the title of the story? [To show parts, male, better name, etc.]

Part Two

“Man, that was awesome.” Dean slouched contentedly against the plastic bench in the diner, grinning at the thought of his stomach full of bacon. “Have you even touched yours?”

Sam was toying broodingly with the food on his plate; looking up, distracted, at the sound of Dean’s voice. He pushed it over to him, flipping up the lid of his laptop and beginning to search the local news websites. His neck was stiff, probably the result of spending the night leaning against the window of the Impala. Not that he shouldn’t be used to that by now.

“Find anything?”

“Not so much. His wife was away from home on the night it happened – her alibi’s solid, there’re witnesses who claim that she was staying with her sister. Same with the girlfriend: both out of town.”

Dean grunted, shovelling down the remainder of Sam’s breakfast and winking at the nearest waitress. Cute, blonde. Definitely his type. “We’re adding her to our go-sees, then?” He was referring to the potential murderer, of course.

“I guess.” Sam was having difficulty focusing on the conversation. For one thing, he was trying to recall exactly what Bobby had mentioned regarding the ‘suspicious circumstances’. The case seemed fairly straightforward, as the under-enthusiastic local journalist whose website he was browsing had reported: minus the presence of a suspect. “The house was locked. No sign of a break-in.”

Fractionally more interested, Dean craned his neck to regard the screen of the laptop with a bemused expression. “Y’reckon it was some kind of spirit? Or demon?”

“No idea. Uhh …” Sam’s breath caught, and he rubbed his nose urgently. The blonde waitress, who had been checking out Dean from the other side of the diner, gave him an odd look.

Dean swivelled the laptop to face him, ignoring Sam’s noise of irritation. “Hey, check out the house. That is old-school …”

Sam let his eyes run over the photos of what appeared to be a mansion; greying boards, slanting foundations, the works. Judging from the lack of surrounding buildings, it was right in the middle of nowhere. He would have voiced this, but his eyelids were beginning to flicker closed, his nostrils flaring a little. “Huh-uhh … hhh …” He brought his arm upwards, stifling the sneeze against his wrist. “… huh’Chshh!”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Dean hated to press the point, but Sam rarely sneezed. Almost always avoided doing so in public, too.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Dean mouthed the word ‘bitch’, returning the laptop to its owner. The waitress sauntered over again to clear away, and a scrap of paper somehow found its way onto Dean’s lap. He gave Sam an obnoxiously pleased-with-himself smirk, until he discovered that his brother was already occupied, hastily getting to his feet. He watched as Sam ducked his head towards his shoulder, defiance registering briefly on his face. “Uhh … uhh’nghht! … huhh … huh’ehh … heh-CHSHh!”

Dean delayed for a couple of seconds, making certain that ‘Ericka’ could see him tucking her number into the pocket of his jeans, then followed him out to the car. Sam was already hunched in the passenger seat, extracting papers from the floor underneath him. “Sofia Ormond.”

“Excuse me?”

“The girlfriend.” Sam turned away for a moment, coughing. “Sorry. She lives close to here; closer than the couple, anyway.”

Dean nodded, acknowledging the address Sam was showing him. “So, how did they know each other? I thought the guy was supposed to be a regular workaholic.”

“Exactly.” Sam’s wry smile was cut short by another cough. “She was his secretary - he hired her about a year ago.”

“Nice.” Dean sounded almost appreciative.

They reached the secretary’s doorstep within half an hour, Dean shifting restlessly in his suit. Sam was equally uncomfortable, but not because of his attire – the urge to sneeze was still lingering.

“Sofia Ormond?” The woman standing in the doorway inclined her head warily as Dean paused, flipping open his badge and giving their fake names. “We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Jeffrey Branner.”

“Yeah? You and the rest of the neighbourhood.” Sofia was younger than Dean had pictured, late twenties at the most. She was attractive, in a bookish kind of way; fashionable glasses, conservative way of dressing. There was something almost sassy in her manner that surprised him, contrasting with her outward appearance. “I’ve already told you people everything I know.”

Sam stepped in, his voice a little husky. “We were wondering whether you’d mind clarifying a few points for us.”

Resignedly, Sofia gestured them inside. The living room was small, joining onto the kitchen, tidy except for some books and magazines scattered over the coffee table. She perched on the edge of the armchair, waiting expectantly for them to take the sofa. Dean complied, but Sam hesitated by the front door, one hand hovering in front of his face. “Uhh ... uhh’Heschh!”

“Bless you. I suppose you want to know where I was that night?”

“Not at all.” Dean attempted a charming smile, as Sam moved to occupy the space next to him. “We were actually interested in any recent changes there might have been in Jeff’s behaviour. Aggression, unprovoked violence, maybe?”

Sofia stared at him. “No, nothing like that.” Her tone softened. “Jeff was always such a warm person. A relationship was never something either of us intended to get into, but I guess you could say we had a lot in common.”

Dean scratched his neck awkwardly. “Any, uh, strange things happening?”

“Like what?”

“Y’know; flickering lights, problems with the electrics, that sort of – ”

“We know how hard this must be for everyone involved,” Sam interrupted sympathetically, glaring at Dean. “Do you think you could give us any details that you might’ve left out earlier?”

_ _ _

[Bongo]

I love this! It's so well characterized and interesting, and the mystery is moving at a good speed. And Sam totally would be someone who loathes sneezing in public. Thank you very much for sharing this

[mr.moosey]

This is so cute! Great plot and wonderful job at keeping in character!

[Lynne]

Blue, I've made a few of the changes you requested. If you want the title changed, just let me know and I'll be happy to do that for you

[MusicaDiabolos]

Yay! Sneezy Sam is my absolute favourite! And you write him so well

[iluvsneezes]

I'm loooooving this! Please keep going.

[Silent Sophie]

Aw it's awesome, I love it! Hope you'll continue soon.

[BlueRandom]

Aww, thank you for commenting again! It really kind of made my day ... Also, thanks Lynne for changing the title

[silent Sophie -- I love the cupped hands ones too! And Jared has these amazingly long hands ...]

Part Three

The motel room was dingy and sparsely furnished, a single bed crammed into one corner with a double bed a foot or so away. Dean, not in the mood for gallantry, threw the duffle bag onto the double, and joined it with a creak of springs.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered, unceremoniously claiming the remaining bed and stripping off his suit jacket. “So, what did you think of her?”

Dean shrugged. “Who knows? She wasn’t exactly opening up. Bless.”

Sam shot him a narrow-eyed glance of irritation, doubling over to sneeze into both hands. “Hehh-SHEWW!”

“Seriously. Dude.” Dammit. Sam was giving him the look: the tense mouth with eyes wide in imploring ruefulness. Dean was almost convinced that Sam was unaware of this look, although it tended to appear at handy opportunities for manipulation. But it nevertheless caused him to sigh, and click his tongue. “Fine. What’s your idea?”

A pause, in which Sam stretched an arm in front of him to signal Dean to wait, before sneezing repeatedly into the same elbow. “Hehh-IHShoo! … hnn … huhhh’SHEWw! … uhh’HESCHhh! … huh’ihh … huuh’Eschh! … Uhh.” This whole thing had come on really suddenly, he realised. He felt like crap; dizzy and disorientated, and his damned nose was itching persistently. “Okay. I think that’s it.”

“Not sounding so good, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam. And I’m – ”

“Fine. I know.”

Sam exhaled rapidly. “We should go talk to Jeffrey’s wife.”

“Maybe we should wait a while.” Dean spread out lazily on top of the sheets, tossing the car keys in his palm. “I

need to get some food.”

“You practically just ate.”

“Are you kidding me? That was hours ago – it’s getting dark already. I vote we head back to that diner; check out the locals at the feeding grounds.”

Sam surveyed him with scepticism. “Is this about that waitress chick?”

“You thought she was cute, too, huh?” A flash of white teeth accompanied the teasing.

“Don’t you think it looks a tad desperate?”

“Point taken,” agreed Dean. “How about I pick up a couple of burgers from some other place and bring them back here?”

Sam didn’t reply. He was squirming uncomfortably, and Dean suddenly realised that he was fighting with a sneeze. He was squinting a little, his mouth open, staring at a point above Dean’s left shoulder. “Huhh … uhh’CHSHhoo!”

“Sam? Burgers?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Suit yourself. Coming with?” Dean was already unbuttoning his shirt in favour of a black t-shirt and khaki jacket.

“I think I’m going to stay here and try to dig up some more on this Jeff guy.” Sam hitched the laptop onto the covers in front of him, preparing himself for a session of research.

Dean returned almost an hour later, half-eaten cheeseburger nestled in one hand and plastic carton of Coke in the other, to find Sam asleep, slumped against the wall. His face was paler than usual below the tan, and Dean noticed for the first time the dark, bluish curves underlining his eyes. The laptop screen was taken up by a document in which Sam had collected various data surrounding Jeffrey Branner: his home town, the schools he attended, previous jobs and random acquaintances. Dean was inspecting a paragraph on the man’s birdwatching hobbies when Sam shifted next to him, making a small sound of discomfort.

“Hey, you’re back.”

“Nice observation, genius.” Dean reached out before Sam had time to protest, pressing his fingers against his brother’s forehead. “Okay. And that explains why you look terrible.”

“It’s nothing.” Sam would have seemed a whole lot more convincing if his lungs hadn’t chosen that moment to rebel, contradicting him in a wave of coughing. “It’s just a cold,” he revised, his voice cracking.

Dean shrugged, flopping onto the double bed and directing the remote control at the small T.V. that was fixed precariously onto the plaster wall. “Did you get any ideas about why the guy died?”

“Not exactly. I mean, the only real suggestion of anything weird happening is that there’s no evidence …” Sam trailed off into meditative quiet.

Dean turned up the volume on X-Files, pretending to be absorbed in the episode. Every so often he glanced over at Sam’s large frame, which looked impossibly big curled up on the single mattress. As his brother’s breathing took on a deep regularity again, Dean couldn’t help finding himself hoping that a spirit would show up sooner or later.

_ _ _

[MusicaDiabolos]

Yay, wonderful update! So well characterized And so pretty too...

[shygreeneyes]

Oh, this is just delightful!

[iluvsneezes]

Omg, I am SO loving this!!

[LeapYearKisses]

Wow! This is excellent. Your charcterization is right on the money. Can't wait for the next part!

[Silent Sophie]

[silent Sophie -- I love the cupped hands ones too! And Jared has these amazingly long hands ...]

Aw yes! I LOVE his hands, those wonderful long fingers!

Amazing work! I'm loving all of this so much!

[crazy_cat_girl]

Awww, not only a sick Sam but a caring Dean! :-) Great work.

[BlueRandom]

Hey again Is there anyway someone could maybe change the parts thing in the title again? Thanks [Plus if anyone has any idea for a name that's cool - I suck at that kind of thing].

Part Four

[Note:- puke warning, but nothing graphic.]

“Fine – I take it back. You look awesome.”

Sam scowled, managing on the third try to force himself up off the bed. Thankfully Dean was facing in the opposite direction, apparently too preoccupied with reading the fire safety notice on the back of the door to register Sam’s unsteady movements. Neither of them had slept much during the night, as Sam had regularly woken Dean with fits of coughing that left him gasping for breath. Not that Dean had mentioned this; opting instead to keep an attentive distance by watching out of the corner of his eye.

“Ptshh!”

“Dude, what was that?” As far as Dean could tell from the weird choking noise, his brother had simultaneously sneezed and stopped himself from sneezing.

Ignoring the question, Sam discreetly swallowed a couple of painkillers to ease the aching in his head. “Think we should go visit Jeff’s widow this morning?”

“Is that gonna be another suit job?” Dean regarded the jacket flung over the end of his bed with distaste. “I hate suits.”

“I know you do, Dean.” Sam’s gaze had drifted away, his lips parted slightly and pupils unfocused. “… huhh … hep-ChhSHh!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

They both dressed, and Dean exited the motel room, leaving the front door open for Sam to follow. The taller guy started to trail behind, then found himself stopping, swaying apprehensively. A moment later he stumbled into the bathroom, dropping onto his knees, his stomach heaving until piercing lights swam in front of his eyes. The cold tiles were rigid under his left palm, his right hand clutching around his waist. Beads of sweat formed glistening at his hairline, and his head felt light and giddy.

“Christ.” Dean was beside him again, rubbing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his t-shirt.

Tears were leaking from the corners of Sam’s eyes from the effort, but he squeezed his eyelids together until they melted away. Dean pulled him firmly to his feet, supporting his weight against his own shoulder. Sam shook his head anxiously, insisting on clumsily brushing his teeth before he rested against the bathtub. “’M sorry.”

“What’re you talking about?” murmured Dean, easing him back towards the bedroom.

He was coughing again, so Dean filled a tumbler with water from the sink and handed it to him. He wasn’t entirely sure it was clean, judging by the general state of the motel room, but it seemed to help. Sam screwed up his face, panting.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. “Just get into bed, Sam.” He could feel the heat radiating from his body, the few inches difference in height making it considerably difficult to coax him between the sheets. He pushed back strands of damp hair from his brother’s forehead, ignoring the protesting flinch at the unexpected contact.

The mobile phone on the floor by the double bed began to emit Dean’s AC/DC ringtone, and he scooped it up to answer it. He was feeling pretty guilty for not realising that Sam was sick sooner, having dismissed the warning signs off-handedly. But, dammit, the guy could really pick his moments.

“Hey, Bobby,” he greeted, and Sam saw his face relax on recognising the caller ID. “Yeah. New Hampshire.” Some grunting in response to Bobby’s incomprehensible dialogue, and a shifty glance at Sam before he next spoke. “We were kinda thinking of taking it easy for a couple of days. Y’know, check out the local surroundings.”

A dubious silence at the other end of the line.

“Nothing’s the matter. Well,” Dean scratched his head awkwardly, lowering his tone. “Sammy’s come down with the flu, or something …”

“I can hear you, Dean.” Sam grimaced at how quiet and congested his voice sounded.

Dean made an indignant sort of snort, and promptly went outside. He hung up a short time later, and reappeared, chucking the phone onto his mattress. “Bobby says you’re an ‘idjit’.”

The remark seemed somewhat less unjust as it was coming from Bobby, so Sam decided to leave it. “Nothing else?”

“Nope.”

Sam was about to comment on Dean’s obvious emission of the truth, but his expression tensed, and he brought up a hand to cover his face. “Uhh’ihh … hiihh’Shehh! … uhh-Heschh!” He pinched his nose closed, wincing desperately. “… ahh-nxght! … huh’CHhh! … uhhIHShh-uh!”

Reluctantly, he opened one eye, pressing his knuckles to the underside of his nose. Dean’s half-smile was almost sympathetic.

“Don’t. Just … don’t.” Sam gritted his teeth, clutching at his forehead before he realised what he was doing and hastily attempted to regain some sort of composure. “What did Bobby say about the case?”

“There’s a ghost. Clayton Something-Or-Other. Dude was a professor.”

Sam’s eyes were watering a bit, Dean noticed, coming to sit next to him on top of the beige covers. He guessed that he was struggling to hold back another sneeze, and became abruptly interested in the fraying carpet to make Sam feel less uncomfortable. Sam rolled away from him, dipping his head underneath the sheets. “Hehh’Shuuh!” Reemerging, he looked blearily at Dean. “I couldn’t find anything on a spirit.”

“Bobby heard about it through one of his contacts. That’s why he was so keen to put us on the job.” Dean was disgruntled, caught between wanting to make progress with the hunt and knowing that Sam was trying to distract him from worrying. The oversized pain in the ass couldn’t be straight with him even when he was running a fever.

_ _ _

[PollenFairy]

those two are the king sneezers XD

[iluvsneezes]

This just keeps getting better and better! *melts into a puddle*

[shygreeneyes]

Oh, part 4 was just delightful, really fulfilling the promise that the earlier parts set up!

[everest]

This is really good. You write Sammy so well!