More than just asprin and tomato rice soup

[42686]

that last line "Dean doesn't miss Sam’s shivering or the way he bundles his jacket around him as Dean starts up the car. He’s beginning to wonder if he should have picked up a thermometer. " my favorite

[SexualOddity]

Bobby’s handling investigating the magic vendors, and Sam and Dean seem to be back to scratching around at not very much at all, so Dean does work at pulling something out at the First Victim’s house. He makes notes and everything, studies them when they get back to the Impala, but Sam’s right. The girl had no remaining links to the place except for her parents who, of course, were sufficiently upstanding and closet-lurking-skeleton-free to give Mr. Rogers a run for his money.

The story of her boyfriend was a little more promising. They’d kept in touch while she was away and the guy had died, seemingly of flu, not six months ago. Sam had jumped on that one as soon as they’d come to town though, thinking they’d stumbled across another victim. Turned out the guy had hepatitis and was the one plausible casualty from the low grade illnesses that seemed to be killers in this town.

For want of something better to pursue, he might have suggested looking a little closer at the boyfriend, except that by the time they're finished with Cara Sam's occupying considerably more of his headspace. He’s still shivering – violently, in fact - when they leave the house, his eyes have glazed over and there’s a warning flush to his cheeks. When he sways unsteadily before climbing into the car Dean decides that enough is enough.

Sam barely shrinks back when Dean plants him palm on his forehead, and Dean’s worried but not surprised to find it hot, and not muddle-through-and-make-the-best-of-it hot.

“Gotta go home Sammy. Get some water, get some sleep.”

“M’b’okay.”

“No, dude, I’m serious. You’re not up to this, and, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything here. A day and a half now and we’ve not found a hint of anything supernatural or anything to tie this thing together. Plus, you know, you need to sleep. God knows how you’re even walking around.”

“Idt’s jusdt a…”

“It’s not a cold. Not with a fever that high, it’s not. You’re going to bed. And when you feel better we’ll find a new town and a proper job for you to…”

Dean glares at his ringing phone, but when he checks the display he does answer it.

“Hey Bobby.”

Dean gestures at the glove compartment and Sam pulls out the bundle of research they’d been working on.

“Okay, I need Victim 2’s accounts, customer names from June.”

Sam flicks through the book to find the right page, but when Dean waves at him to pass it over, Sam just stares at the pages.

“Wait. Handg ond,” he mumbles.

“Sam!” Dean snaps.

Kid just stares at the page. When he looks up his eyes have more life in them than they have all day. “Sarah Mboundtaind.” He turns his head and coughs harshly into his sleeve. “The guy Cara was datindg was a Mboundtaind. Ndick Mboundtaind.”

Dean frowns, but he takes the paper that Sam now offers. Bobby hasn’t got much. It’s another trader that he can identify, much like the others but with a possible links to more heavy-duty magic.

When he hangs up the phone he looks across at Sam for a moment.

“Fuck’s sake. I think you have a lead.”

Sam looks really damn tired, and his eyes are starting to get puffy where his sinuses are swelling up, but he looks genuinely delighted by the development.

Dean shifts the car into drive. “Okay. I’m taking you home buddy.”

“Whadt? Budt you said...”

“Bed,” Dean barks. “Not optional. I’ll a pay a visit to Sarah Mountain and I’ll fill you in when you’ve had some shut eye.”

Sam barely argues. More than strong enough evidence that Dean has made the right decision.

Edited August 27, 2012 by SexualOddity

[Rika]

Yum Yum Yum! Poooor Sammy!!!

I'm not normally a Sam girl. But I love watching Dean fret over him. I love Dean in caretaker mode, especially because then my thoughts tend to wander to him catching whatever bug it is later.

Also, Sam is pretty adorable when he's all helpless.

Love it!

[VividBubbles!]

Oh my god. TWO UPDATES?! Oddity, you spoil us. *rereads again*

BYE!

[Zwee]

Ummmm... This is VERY much good. I can't form proper sentences...

I've been gone for a week, and I come back to like 9 new Supernatural stories I have yet to read... And not only that, but THREE updates on this lovely story, and lots of sick Sammy bits for me to drool over!!

Awww, Dean's hand on Sam's back was the cutest moment! And also, feverish Sam is the cutest! Being so compliant yet stubborn when it comes to the case, and so EXTREMELY sneezy. I'm not alive. You've killed me.

<3! I'm eagerly awaiting the next part!

[SexualOddity]

Sam looks drained by the time they make it back to the motel room. Dean doesn’t give a second thought to the job until he’s gotten him off to sleep, which, to be fair, doesn’t take long after a generously estimated dose of each of the top strength versions of Sam’s medicine. At first Sam snores, and it’s a restless sleep, but Dean had made sure to pick up some decongestant oil, which always worked better than tablets when Sam was a kid, and after Sam’s spent a quarter hour laid with a bandana that’s doused in the stuff his breathing is at least a little easier.

He takes Sam’s laptop to the corner of the room to dig up some intel on the Mountains. Dean’s there for a good twenty minutes and Sam doesn’t stir, so by the time Dean creeps out of the door he’s reasonably satisfied that Sam will sleep through.

**

With a confident smile and an official looking badge, Dean is able to convince Nick and Sarah’s confused parents that he needs to search the house to check for spores and he’s not surprised to find occult rites and ingredients tucked at the back of a sock drawer. He questions the mother about them, but she seems legitimately baffled. She protests that Sarah hasn’t been herself since Nick’s passing and that she’s been getting support from the counsellor at School. It’s not until she mentions the counsellor being taken ill that Dean decides that it’s time to make his excuses.

**

Dean parks up round the corner and has to bite back his instinct to talk it over with Sam. He twists the phone around his fingers a couple of times before he opens it up and hits the speed dial.

“Jesus, Bobby, I think it was a minor.”

**

It sucks. It fucking sucks. It doesn’t matter how many times Dean turns it over in his head, the girl has a magical rite that’s entitled ‘Weakening Curse’ and a connection to three out of four of the victims. He can’t for the life of him come up with a motive or a connection to the third victim, but at this point he’s more than certain that something’s gonna find its way out of the woodwork. And as he admits to Bobby, he hasn’t a clue what he’s going to do. He’s not about to kill a messed up seventeen year old, and if he went to her parents or the authorities with what he’s found they’d laugh him out of the state. Doesn’t change the fact that the girl is undoubtedly killing people though, and he can’t just walk away.

Bobby takes down details of the rite and says that he’ll look into them, perhaps find a source or a school of magic that it’s associated with. Stuck for something better to do, Dean drives around the block a few times and wills Bobby to call back with news. It’s ridiculous, of course, even if the girl had memorised the details of the hex and tried to perform it again he wouldn’t know that she was doing it, much less be able to stop it. In the end, then, he decides that if he’s gonna drive around aimlessly, he may as well drop in on Sam and see if he can convince him to eat something.

He picks up asprin in the store and hangs around staring at cans of soup for a while as he tries to find something that Sam will be able to stomach. It takes him nearly ten minutes to choose, which is stupid because he knows that Sam likes chicken better. He still buys tomato rice in the end though, even though Sam doesn’t know what it means, because, damnit, it’s what Sammy ought to have, and obviously it has healing powers that far outclass those of chicken.

When he makes it up to their room Sam is wrapped tortilla-style in the blanket , gravity-defying hair just visible at the top of the roll. Dean smiles and plants a hand firm against his shoulder.

“Sam. Sammy. C’mon kid.”

He begins to pull away the covers.

“Sam?”

The bag of soup, tissue and tablets clatters to the floor.

[27jj]

hnghhhhh

this story

*sings* youuuuu are so beautiful to meeeee

okay and the first paragraph, with sam and a bandana with decongestant oil?!?! first of all, is that a real thing? and second of all, WHAT A FUCKING LOVELY IMAGEEEE IT IS SO FANTASTIC

and third of all OMG SAMMY BB what happened!??!?!

amazing chapter

[SexualOddity]

Does what exist? Decongestant oil? Is that not a thing in America?

[27jj]

Does what exist? Decongestant oil? Is that not a thing in America?

oh i have nooo idea

what i know about any cold-related medicine is probably from fanfic, haha. i don't do medicine really, just thinking about like buying medicine/tissues/something at the store makes me uncomfortable

i just googled it though and it seems like a thing!

but either way, it's just such a great image, sam w/ bandana w/ something to help his breathing. like i can't get over how much i love it (and you)

[Emily]

oh for the love of god, why did I not read this later? that cliffhanger ; ___ ;

b-but this is wonderful and does magical things to me readers +1

[Zwee]

SAMMMMYYYY! Noooo! I'm so scared.

Also, the plot thickens!! But if Sarah Mountain messed up Sammy, I will find the crazy and kill her. Actually... Dean will. He's slightly more badass than me. Slightly.

CAN NOT WAIT FOR NEXT PART. I'M SO ANXIOUS.

[VividBubbles!]

M-my Sammy. Oh my poor little boy. Oddity, what have you done to him?!

More please.

BYE!

[SexualOddity]

Thank you guys! You make me grin

--

“No. I’m serious Bobby. We’re not doing hospitals.” Dean rubs an exhausted hand down the side of his face. “Know what happened to the other vic’s when they went into hospital? They picked up every fucking little bug going. That’s…” Dean eyes Sam, bundled up on the bed, and slips silently into the other room, lowering his voice, “That’s what killed them in the end. I’m not putting Sammy in one of those places.”

Bobby’s on his way, Dean contents himself. He’s on his way with weapons and spell reversals, and, Dean prays to God, a bullet with that fucking witch’s name on it. They just have to hold it together long enough for Bobby to come and sort it out.

He’s asking what medicines they need, but Dean’s head is swimming.

“I gave him a bunch of stuff… asprin, Nyquil… he just had a cold, Bobby. You could get us a thermometer,” Dean adds, remembering, “His fever is… I dunno, it’s too high.”

Bobby starts on about the case, and the magical ritual that Dean gave him earlier over the phone, but Dean’s not listening. There’s sneezing coming from over on the bed. He lowers his cell.

“You okay there, Sammy?”

Sam gives a strangled groan, and Dean’s straight over at the bed, phone long forgotten on the countertop.

“Okay Sam?”

When he pulls back the blankets, Sam is clutching at his chest, forehead knotted up in a tight grimace.

“You hurt, kiddo?”

He’s hanging on to his ribcage at one side, breath still darting in and out in disquieting pants. If Dean didn’t know better he’d say he’d cracked a rib.

Symptoms are good, Bobby said. They’re proof that Sam is still fighting this thing. Easy for him to say that though, three hundred miles away and on the end of a phone line. If he were crouched on the end of Sam’s bed, watching the kid fucking sprawling with symptoms, Dean’s pretty sure he would think otherwise.

He presses some tablets from the packet on the nightstand and tries to ease Sam into a slightly more upright position.

“Here,” Dean offers him a bottle of water. “Take some more asprin.”

Sam just pushes them away and doubles over with an urgent sneeze. Again, it’s followed by a horrible, choked-up little groan, and Sam flops onto his good side on the bed.

This time Dean moves Sam’s hand and pull back the fabric of his shirt. No bruising, nothing.

“What the hell is wrong with you kid?”

[27jj]

SPRAWLING

WITH

SYMPTOMS

HNGHHHH

and also this: Sam just pushes them away and doubles over with an urgent sneeze. Again, it’s followed by a horrible, choked-up little groan, and Sam flops onto his good side on the bed.

This continues to be one of the more amazing things in my lifeeeee

[SexualOddity]

*Grin*

[Emily]

*meep*

that just pushed so many buttons

[VividBubbles!]

:wub:

Words cannot describe my love for this. Ohmigawd.

love.

[Zwee]

HOLY.

Um, what just happened?? Why am I on the floor? Crying and also giggling with sadistic happiness?? Is it sadistic? I like to think it's more care-taking than loving misery...

Anyway. This was so worrying! And amazing!! Dean's freaking out. Sam's... so SICK! It makes me feel so guilty for LOVING IT. Symptoms/pain of a cracked rib? Groaning after sneezing?? You're perfect.

Thank youuuuu.

Edited September 14, 2012 by Zwee

[alyssa]

LOVE! this is amazing!

[SexualOddity]

Thank you guys

Zwee, I have had SO much guilt in delighting in pain, but I once had a conversation with a BIG hurt/comfort fan that stuck with me. She told me that I don't want to hurt anyone, that I only enjoy them beng hurt because I want to make it better, and on balance that can't be so bad after all. Don't feel too bad. You don't inflict any pain, you're just really good at making it better. I can't imagine an ill/injured person who would object to that.

And also... have some more story:

--

Bobby brings a thermometer, anti-inflammatories and antiviral cream. The latter are recent additions to the wishlist following further observation of his brother and a tortuous twenty minutes that Dean spent Googling symptoms and driving himself crazy. It goes against every instinct to wake Sam from his fitful sleep. But there is medicine, and Sam needs it. He’s not fighting the thing too well on his own.

Sam starts coughing pretty much immediately when he wakes. Dean hates that cough. It’s seems like it changes a little every time he hears it. Right now it’s deep and rumbling and ominious, but it still manages to keep that catch in it that makes it fucking relentless. It’s painful as well, ever since Dean got back from the Mountains’ house, sneezing, coughing, breathing sometimes, seem to be fucking agony for Sam. And right now, he’s sleepy and confused and caught between the coughing and the pain, and trying to sneak shallow breaths into his lungs between convulsions. Dean bundles some tissue into Sam’s hand and supports Sam’s hand in front of his face, hoping that he can clear out some of the gunk and crap that’s sitting on his lungs.

As Sam begins to slow into his usual hurried pant, Dean casts a quick eye over the bundle of Kleenex before tossing it in the trashcan. The shit on there is thick, and it’s smeared with blood. Something deflates, really deep in Dean’s stomach, but he has to get some medicine into Sam before he starts coughing again, so he does his best to file it away with the growing number of things that he’ll worry about later.

Sam winces as he swallows, but he takes the tablets willingly, and literally gulps at the water. Dean offers some more but Sam looks ready to fall back to sleep. Dean eases the thermometer into his mouth and fiddles with Sam’s hair while they wait for it to beep.

The reading says a hundred and four point five. Dean doesn’t even have it in him to be surprised. He just lays the thermometer by the bed, makes a weary mental note and sets about rubbing cream into Sam’s blistered lips. They’re cold sores, several of them. Dean holds them in similar regard to Sam’s cough. They’re the clearest representation of what’s happening through the whole of Sam: viruses, uncontained, spreading energetically through his body.

By the time Dean’s finished Sam is pretty much dozing, so he eases him down onto the mattress to let him sleep.

“What’s his fever like?”

Dean had almost forgotten Bobby, sitting where Dean had told him to, at the desk at the other end of the room. Dean comes over and pulls up a chair.

“A hundred and four point five,” Dean responds, his tone hushed.

Bobby’s eyes widen immediately.

“He’s really damn sick, Bobby.”

“I’ll say.”

“You know, there was blood in the crap that he was coughing up.”

Bobby stands. “That’s it. I’m taking a look at him.”

“No.” Dean barely realises the volume of his voice, but he surprises himself with the level of authority in his tone.

Bobby won’t be so easily set back though.

“You know, I’ve been looking after that kid damn near as long as you have…”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what the hell’s it about?”

Dean sighs. “You’ve been outside. With the bugs and the crap and the things that could kill him.”

“So have you,” Bobby grunts.

“Yeah, okay, and that’s more than enough for him to deal with.” Dean’s tone softens. “Sit down. Please.”

Bobby does as Dean asks, and they sit together in silence for a moment.

“How is he doing?”

Dean shrugs. “I have no idea. He’s really out of it. It seems like there’s a lot of pain.”

“Pain?”

“Yeah. His ears, his face, his throat – his lungs especially. I did some research, I think it’s probably… pleurisy?” Dean is tentative with the unfamiliar word.

“Jesus.”

“Please tell me that if you kill this witch it’ll all go away.”

Bobby sighs. “I’m working on it. Listen, Dean, did you ever meet her.”

Dean shakes his head. “No. But I don’t think Sam did either. He never mentioned a sister. I don’t think he knew there was one until he recognised the name on the accounts.”

Bobby nods, thoughtfully. “You get the slightest hint of a symptom, the you call me,” he insists. “I wanna look a little further into this ritual.”

[Zwee]

Oh my god POOR Sam! My heart is hurting! He's so so sick! And cute!

And Dean's being cute and fiddling with his hair, and being SO protective, I love it!

It relieves me, what you said about the whole hurt/comfort thing! I DO like making it better, it's my favorite thing! But, I mean, take pleasure in the deepest misery you can create (without feeling like a horrible person), because it just means that making it better is way more gratifying... right?

I'm dying for more! <3

[42686]

S-sam? DX whats happening to him?!!

[VividBubbles!]

SAMMY! My poor Sammy. I want to cuddle him but it'll just make him sicker. Now I know how Dean feels. That damn witch has got to die. Dean better go all protective big bother on her ass. Or Bobby. Bobby's fine too. This is great! More please.

BYE!

[ichixshiro14]

Gahhhh I don't know whether to bawl or be excited for the next installment!!

[SexualOddity]

It was meant to be a ten minute nap, that’s what Dean had told himself, but they wake four hours later to the bleep of Dean’s alarm. Sam shuffles and groans and holds his head. Dean fishes for a light switch and patiently sets out the supplies to begin medicating Sam. He’s got it so down pat now that he lines up the packets without thinking: asprin, cough syrup, anti-inflammatories, Nyquil, throat lozenges, cream. One by one and in order of priority, just in case something happens and he can’t finish the lot. He’s just convinced Sam to swallow an anti-inflammatory before he has to twist away to sneeze. It takes him by surprise and he blinks for a moment at his automatically raised hand. But it’s just a sneeze, and they’re in a dusty motel room, so he decides to not think too deeply into it.

When they’re finished with the cream, Dean talks to Sam, rubs the side of his jaw, until he can convince him to take the thermometer under his tongue. When it bleeps and he’s able to extract it it’s reading a hundred and four point five. That’s okay. That’s steady.

“You want some more water kiddo.”

Sam tries to hum in agreement, but he’s too stuffy to take in any air through his nose, and he only ends up swallowing and coughing. An unexpected choke at first, but then that horrible, thick, persistent cough. Sam’s hand is at his chest immediately, fingers tightening around his ribcage as he groans.

“Okay kiddo, okay. Asprin’s gonna kick in real soon.”

Dean gets them both a drink, and then Sam flops down against the bed. He hurts, Dean can tell, but it’s not as bad as it can get. He’s not groaning, but there’s something uncomfortable about his mouth and the corners of his eyes. It’s not his chest this time, it’s his head, or his ears, or his sinuses, Dean’s not sure, and it seems like there’s so many things happening all at once. He runs a hand through Sam’s hair and wishes he could do more to help.

“Hehhh…HuhhUHhHuhSHHhhuuh!”

Dean freezes. He sniffs and sighs before he pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Hey,” he greets Bobby. “I’m sneezing… Just a couplatimes, but it’s how Sam started…”

Bobby is calm, and Bobby-like. And Dean is suddenly pathetically grateful that it’s not just him and Sam. Bobby was coming over anyway apparently, he’s found something, and since there’s not a whole lot else he can do before he shows up, Dean shuffles back onto Sam’s bed, eases his brother’s head into his lap and shares the tissue box.

Edited September 20, 2012 by SexualOddity