More than just asprin and tomato rice soup

[Emily]

I sense contagion omg

and that last line is so adorable "and shares the tissue box"

I just melted there

[SexualOddity]

Couldn't stop writing it, lol!

--

In spite of everything, Dean chuckles when Bobby turns up at the door with coffee and Kleenex.

“I would kiss you Bobby, but I think we could probably use you healthy.”

“Very wise. “ He hefts a notebook and a large, bound document onto the motel room desk. “How’s your brother?”

Dean shrugs. “Shitty. Feverish. Think he’s sleeping now, but it’s light.”

Bobby grunts in acknowledgement. “Well, I’m hoping we can put a stop to this. I sourced the ritual. It’s Marddudeneran.”

“It’s what, now?”

“Marddudeneran. They were an aboriginal tribe, big into magic.”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck. “And an Aboroginal ritual found its way into the closet of a seventeen year old American schoolgirl..? “

“Well, there you got me. Tribal lore was that those who practiced magic could never truly die, but would exist in Spirit in the Pendant that identified them.”

Dean fiddles with the lid of his coffee cup. “Okay. This sounds promising...”

“They’ve cropped up all over the world since then, and there’s all kinds of rumours about them raising holy hell. Only trouble is, Hell’s so different each time, it’s damned near impossible to identify an uprising.”

“Why always different? It depend on the witch?”

“Not the witch. The owner. It cleaves to their unspoken desires, apparently.”

“Excellent,” Dean retorts. His tone is humourless.

“But you said you couldn’t connect the victims…”

“No. Well, not to each other,” Dean coughs, andtakes a swig from his coffee. “We’ve got a link for three of them with Sarah. Number one was her brother’s girlfriend, number two supplied her with herbs and magical stuff and number four was her school counsellor. We don’t know about Three. Plus, now there’s Sam… and me, maybe. God knows what kind of secret desires we factor into. We’ve never even met the kid.”

Bobby murmurs and rubs at his lips thoughtfully. “Unless it was fear?”

Dean scratches at his nose and raises an eyebrow at Bobby.

“If she knew you were looking around, maybe she wanted you out of the way. Didn’t want to get discovered. Actually, you could say the same about the counsellor and the shop owner.”

“Well, then, what’s her beef with Cara?”

“I don’t know. But I think we could find one of those pendants.” Bobby’s eyebrows are raised. It’s a challenge.

Dean turns his coffee cup between his fingers. “I think I don’t want you going down there,” he mutters.

Bobby’s eyebrows stay up. For a different reason this time. “Excuse me?”

“Bobby,” it squeezes out between grated teeth, “Sam went down there, he got sick, I went down there, I got sick. What if we’re wrong about this and it doesn’t fix anything and you get sick. Where does that leave us? Where does that leave Sam? ‘Cause ,fuck it, I dunno how long that kid is gonna keep breathing.”

Dean’s throat is sore suddenly, and his chest is tight, and Sam is groaning and shuffling, woken by the noise. Dean plonks himself over by Sam’s bed and tries to whisper him back to sleep.

“Dean…”

“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry. Bobby, I’m sick. I’m tired. God I just… not you as well, okay? Let me go and try this thing. If it’s a bust, we haven’t lost anything.”

[VividBubbles!]

<-- my face right now

Contagion? Are my Wintagion radars going off? I'm too tired to really tell (and too sad ).

Continue this soon!

BYE!

[Zwee]

Aww! Deeeaaannnnn... Poor boys! Sam's SO sick, and Dean's headed that route, too, I imagine! And there aren't many options left! And Dean's snapping at Bobby and waking his sick brother up and being SO cute and sweet with him.

I like TWO POSTS IN A ROW. I also like CAPS LOCK TO CONVEY MY FEELINGS. OF LOVE. FOR YOU AND THIS STORY.

I've been close to tears like 6 times today, and reading the new installments was one of the times!! But they were tears of sympathy and love and gratitude to you!

Haha, thank you. Can't wait for more!

[42686]

woah! two updates?!

poor sam i want to cuddle him! and deans getting sick too! im looking forward to the next update

[Rika]

Bahhhh..... I love nothing as much as a heroic sick person. I love that Dean is like, no fuck this, I'm gonna go fix things. Even though he is at the beginnings of a horrible plague.

So glad you passed it over to him too!

Delicious.

[SexualOddity]

Aww Zwee, that's a huge compliment, but it's sad that you were crying so much. Hope you're okay.

Lalala... nothing really happens in this update.

--

Dean waits until midnight, and then he packs a bag. He doesn’t take much, just a canister of salt and part of a broken railing. Shotguns are probably a little indelicate for this particular job. He sneezes, and it reminds him to stuff his pockets with tissue. First, he has to ease the box out from under his brother’s arm.

“Hah’UHHSHHhyuw!”

Sam shifts and murmurs. “Bless you.”

“Huh’TSHCHHhh! EhUSSSCHhyuw! EhUSCHHhhyuh! HUT’SCHHhuh! Uhh…” He sniffs. “Go back to sleep Sammy… EhhhUSCHHhuh!”

When he stands, tissue box in hand, Bobby has a look.

“What?” Dean grunts.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna be real stealthy.”

“You got a better solution, I’m all ears.” He blows his nose and then pulls out a handful of extra Kleenex to stuff into his pocket.

“And what if you get worse, can’t get yourself back?”

Dean checks his watch. “Six hours, this has been coming on. Sam had a good twenty four before he woulda been too sick to handle himself.”

“Sam hadn’t been up all hours worrying about his sick brother.”

Dean sighs and reaches for the asprin by the side of Sam’s bed. “He wasn’t exactly sleeping soundly and getting three hearty meals a day, and he got twenty-four hours.” He punches a couple of tablets from the blister pack and wanders into the bathroom.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean gives a long sigh and swallow the tablets with water from the tap. Bobby’s worried. But it’s the wrong time for this, and, at any rate, it’s not Dean’s story to tell. “We’ve just had a couple of rough hunts on the trot that’s all.”

“So he was injured?”

“Yeah.” It’s not even really a lie.

Bobby’s obviously not satisfied, but he doesn’t push any further. He gives Dean a serious look before he’s out the door.

“Don’t take any risks. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll come up with something else.”

[VividBubbles!]

Iamlovingthisverymuchcanipleasehavemore?!!!

Ah, Dean. Bobby.

BYE!

[lovelylovexoxo]

I'm like in LOVE!!!!!

[ihatesauerkraut]

This is the first time I've commented on a story EVER. I just have to tell you that you're AMAZING and I LOVE YOU... this story is so synced with all of my fetish kinks and quirks, and god, it's Sam and Dean... this really just couldn't get any better. Gah!

[LunaMay]

I really do love this story, like, so much. Words can not describe how much.

[Rika]

Bahhh....I'm on the edge of my metaphorical seat!

Sam blessing Dean even though he's half asleep is frickin adorable.

Oh. And so is Sick!Dean.

Can't wait to read more!

[SexualOddity]

You guys are too lovely. You made my day with your comments (and even on my nothing-really-happens update as well)

--

Quick assessment of the Mountains’ house suggests that it’s not gonna be too tough to get into. There’s a burglar alarm, but he should be alright if he goes straight for the first floor, and generally, Dean’s rule holds true: Small towns; shit security. Better yet, her room could not have been an easier spot, with pink curtains and a ton of teddies on the window ledge. Thank the Lord for girly-girls. They make this process a hell of a lot easier.

He blows his nose three times before he tries to get off up to the roof, in the hope that it’ll get it out of his system. Bobby was right, he’s in crappy shape for a stealth job, but with any luck he can make this quick.

Access to the roof isn’t too much of a problem either, there’s a tree and a high wall, so he’s able to clamber up without too much trouble, and from there it’s not too tough to lower down to the girls window ledge to pick the lock. He catches his breath before he pushes open the window though. It looks as though it might just creak.

There is a groan from the joints as he eases it open. Dean stops immediately. Leaning back on the ledge, he can see the next window frame along. It’s rusted, and he’s not hopeful that it’ll give him much more joy. It wasn’t a load groan. He wonders how heavily this girl sleeps.

Quick and dangerous, he decides, and don’t think too much about it. No sense in prolonging the inevitable. Dean pushes out the window just far enough for him to squeeze through, and then he freezes.

There’s no movement.

He slips off his boots and lowers himself down on to the carpet. No alarms, no waking, no screaming. So far, so good.

Dean has a quick glance around the room in the half light, just in case she’s hung it on the bedpost for the night, or left it on the nightstand, but he never seriously believes he’s gonna get so lucky. The next part is likely to be tricky, not least because his nose is itching like a mother and he’s starting to feel like he needs to cough.

Not prepared to risk detection, he scrunches up his nose and massages the bridge before going any further. It’s helping. It tickles, but it’s not getting any worse, and after a moment he feels safe to hold his breath and move in closer.

She shifts a little as Dean folds back her blanket, relieved to find that the pendant is hung quite loosely around her neck. He liberates a pen knife from his back pocket, holds it against the cord and braces himself. He’s not sure what for. For a dip in temperature and the appearance of an Aboriginal witch, or even just for the girl to wake up and start screaming the house down. Instead, in a remarkable, but not unwelcome, anti-climax, the fabric just comes loose in his hands and he can tease it out from under her neck.

There’s a thrill of adrenaline in Dean’s chest as he pockets away the pendant and his knife, and for the first time in the past couple of days, he feels like he has a handle on this. They’re not done. Sam is still sick, and the witch is potentially still witching, but they have something now. Chalk one to Team Hunter.

He doesn’t dare breathe out until he’s down the tree and away from the house.

[VividBubbles!]

Go Dean! Go Team Hunter! I love this! More!

BYE!

[Zwee]

Awwww! Sammy saying "Bless you" all sleepily and Dean being SO sneezy but he's still just like, "This needs to be done. So... I'm doing it." And of course he does it. And of course he does it well, because he's Dean and he's amazing and he loves his brother. I thought it was so funny and in character and cute that he's like "Sam's still sick" even though he also is!

Cuuuute. Loved it. As usual. And, thank you! Haha, I was just having a really bad, really stressful day last time. But this story ALWAYS makes it better, and I'm IN LOVE with it.

[27jj]

have i told you lately that i love you? i love you and this is amazing, as always:)

[SexualOddity]

When Dean makes it back to the motel, Bobby is already inside and digging in his trunk. Dean quickens his pace. Bobby doesn’t wait for him to speak before he tosses him a shotgun.

“You got the pendant?”

“Yeah. Where’s Sam?”

“Upstairs. Come on. I’ve got us a cleansing ritual.”

Dean doesn’t follow when Bobby strides off in the direction of the neighbouring woodland.

“Bobby. What’s wrong?”

Bobby stills, and turns to Dean. When he speaks again his tone is soft, but he’s not about to compromise.

“C’mon Dean. We don’t have a lot of time for this.”

Dean numbs. He doesn’t realised he’s caught up to Bobby until he’s grabbing at his jacket.

“What happened to Sam, Bobby?”

Bobby lays a rough hand against Dean’s and pulls away from his grasp.

“He’s breathing,” Bobby tells him, with a calm that Dean just wants to drink. “But I think we oughta move fast.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Dean growls

“Fever’s rising, breathing’s sounding worse.” He regards Dean. “You’re shivering.”

Dean murmurs. He hadn’t noticed.

Bobby shakes his head, as if to shake away the thought. “It doesn’t matter. We get this done and both of you should be okay.”

They step out into a clearing. Bobby unhooks his bag from his arm and pulls out some bags and pouches, three candles and a stone.

“Set us up a salt circle. It’s an easily ritual. I just need you to hold it together and keep everything back until I’ve finished it.” He looks up at Dean. “You can do that, right?”

[VividBubbles!]

Sammy.

Squish my heart why don't you?

More please.

bye.

[Zwee]

MY HEART IS POUNDING. I must have more. Sammmmyyyyy!

Oh dear god, you're too good at this.

<3.

[SexualOddity]

Bobby is quick to set up, and he gestures to Dean for the pendant.

“Hold up,” Dean grunts. He’s been needing to sneeze since back at the house. Reasoning that it’s probably better to get it out of his system he digs the heel of his hand against the side of his nose until his breath shudders.

“HUHT’T’TSHHHyuh!” He sneezes openly toward the ground and fishes in his pocket for the rest of his crumpled up tissue. “AhhISHHhhyuh! ISHHhhuh! HISHHhhuh!”

“Bless you, kiddo.” Bobby draws a symbol in the dirt. “We gotta move. You ready for this?”

Dean blows his nose and tosses the pendant over to Bobby. He cocks his shotgun.

No sooner have Bobby’s fingers closed around the necklace than there’s a nauseating crack in the atmosphere, like a pop of a bone leaving its socket. Dean doesn’t see a thing before there are hands on his throat, and his footing misses, sending him and the spectre sprawling back over onto the ground. Dean’s throat tightens and he gasps desperately, the air spluttering in his throat. He can hear Bobby chanting behind him, fast and insistent. It’s too close for him to get a decent grip on the shotgun. His throat stings and warms under the witch’s hands and he scrabbles in his back pocket for the iron rod. Closing his grip around it he gives an almighty swing at the ghost. It flickers and disappears.

Dean falls forward on to his hands and knees and coughs helplessly at the ground.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” Bobby barks, and there’s a strike of a match. He’s lighting a candle. There were three candles. Dean has no real clue about the details of the ritual, but he chooses to believe that means they’re a third of the way through. He can work with that. He stumbles to his feet.

There’s a rustle up in the trees. Dean discharges the shotgun without a thought. He doesn’t see anything but the rustling stops.

Bobby chants on, and there’s the strike of another match.

There’s a crack again, and Dean turns and shoots.

There’s smoke in the air all at once. He waves it out of the way with his arm and blinks into the darkness. Bobby must be burning the necklace. Dean sniffs, hard. It’s making his nose run.

There’s a smash at his side and in a second he’s on the floor. His shoulder cracks against something hard. A shot of pain flies down his arms to the tips of his fingers. He scrambles backwards and fumbles for his piece of railing, but it’s too far to reach with his good arm.

He’s still coughing from into the smoky air when the witch barrels in again, and there’s a tearing at his chest that soaks warm and wet in an instant. He takes a handful of salt from the ground and heaves it in the face of the Spirit. It’s only gone for a second though, before there are cold hands at him again. He gives an agonised groan as one tightens around his shoulder.

Bobby’s voice rings clear above the crackle of the fire and the hot rush of blood in Dean’s ear.

“Nunc Existo Mundo.”

The pressure and the frost at each shoulder draw back, and Dean collapses against the floor. Bobby’s at his side in an instant.

And maybe it’s timing, or maybe it’s because at last he knows that they’ll be okay, but that’s when the weakness really washes over Dean.

[VividBubbles!]

Dean.

"Bless you, kiddo."

Sammy.

Bobby.

So many conflicting emotions! I love this.

bye.

Edited September 30, 2012 by VividBubbles!

[SexualOddity]

Dean blinks at the ceiling a couple of times before memory clicks into place and he scrambles up out of the bed. There’s a scrap of paper on the nightstand.

In hospital with Sam. He’ll be okay.

Dean sinks back into the bed, relaxing instantly with relief. He pulls at his shirt to get a closer look. There’s a blood soaked stain and beneath it he can see where the wound is patched. Remembering, he rolls his shoulder gingerly. It aches, but it’s moving. He decides it was probably dislocated. Most likely Bobby popped it back.

He crumples Bobby’s note into his pocket and fishes out his cell. He notices the time before the date.

11/12.

Dean’s mouth almost falls. He’s slept for more than twenty-four hours. He runs a hand through his hair, thick with sweat, and changes fast before he’s out the door.

**

If Dean had had any doubt that all this was a hex, as opposed to just some crappy bug he’d picked up from Sam, after walking down the motel room steps, they were well and truly put to rest. Up and about and trying to function, Dean’s head fucking swims. He breathes and tightens his grip on the banister. This is not like a reaction to any cold he’s ever had. He decides he doesn’t trust himself to stop off for the Impala, and thanks the Lord that it’s just a few blocks to the hospital.

**

The ward system is like a fucking Labyrinth, and it takes Dean a while to find Sam, but when he does it’s fucking worth it. Sam is upright. Sitting upright. No support. He’s drip white and wearing an oxygen mask, but he’s upright, and talking, even. To some nurse with a stethoscope on his chest.

Bobby notices him first. And then Sam looks round right away. There are still blisters on his lips and when he says Dean’s name it’s all cracked and raspy as hell, but fuck it’s a relief to hear him talk. The nurse finishes up and writes on the clipboard at the end of Sam’s bed.

“I’m gonna get a coffee,” Bobby announces. “Tea, Sam?”

“Please.”

“Dean?”

“Actually, yeah, tea sounds pretty good.”

Sam winces, and Dean knows why. Dean doesn’t drink tea, under normal circumstances.

“Bad throat?” Sam suggests, pulling the mask away from his mouth.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, you gave me your cold, you bastard.”

“I’mb sorry.”

Dean waves away the apology. “That’s okay.” He frowns at the laptop on the table. “You guys doing research?”

Sam nods. “Mmb, Bobby.” He rubs a hand across his forehead. “Wandted to fill the blandks of this whole thindg.”

Dean slides himself onto the seat by Sam’s bed. “And?”

Sam coughs into the back of his wrist. It still sounds think and gross.

“Hey, plug back in a minute.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but he does pull the mask back up over his face and tips his head back to breathe.

Dean unclips Sam’s notes from the end of the bed while he’s waiting.

“Hey. Fever one-oh-two, that’s better!”

“That’s better?” Sam asks, pulling away his mask.

“A lot better. Well done.”

Sam shrugs. “Idt didnd’t have a whole lot to do with bme.”

“Nice little grocery list of ailments, though.”

“Yeah, I kndow…”

“Herpes simplex…”

“Idt’s cold sores Deand, fuck off.”

Dean pats him on the leg. “I’m kidding buddy.”

Sam shuffles back on the bed. “So… case?”

“Yeah…”

“Third victim,” Sam stops for a breath. “Aboudt six years ago, he’s ind a college band with Ndick Mbountain. He sorts out a trip to Mbexico, Ndick gedts a tattoo…”

“Nick gets hepatitis…”

“Yeah. We don’dt kndow, budt we thindk mbaybe Cara gave himb the flu bug thadt killed himb. Witch tapped into the andger she felt about her brother.”

“Fuck.”

“I kndow.”

“I was ready to kill that kid.”

Sam rubs his knuckle against his nose. “Thandk God for Bobby, huh?” He rubs his nose again, more urgently this time. His eyes lose their focus. “Hehh… shit…”

He stretches an arm out for the box of Kleenex by his bed, but only succeeds in knocking it to the floor.

“Heht-TUSHhhuh! ‘TSHhShYew! Ushh’ah! Huhh’ASHHh!”

Dean reaches down and pulls some tissues from Sam’s box. When he looks up Sam has his nose pressed against his shoulder, clutching at his chest, his face scrunched up in pain. He takes the Kleenex gratefully from Dean’s hand.

“AhISHHhh! ISHHHuh! HuhT’TISHHyah! Ugh… Huhh…” He sniffs. “You kndow, sdnnh.. sdneezidng is… uh… really good. Hah’TSCHhSHYew! It mbeands… there’s histabmindes, and that bmeans… HkkK’TCHhhyew! TCHhYew! HuhISHHhUhh!”

“Hurts like a bastard, doesn’t it Sammy?”

Sam nods, bleary-eyed. “Oh yeah.”

Dean holds out a trashcan so that Sam can throw away his crumpled up tissue, and offers him the box to take some more. He blows his nose.

“Hey Sammy…”

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s gonna take you a bit to get over this, right kiddo?”

“Yeah I kndow.”

“So no just throwing us into the next job this time,” Dean continues, pointedly

“Oh,” Sam sighs. He gets it. “Yeah, I kndow.”

Dean leans in closer. “You gonna be okay with that?”

“Yeah…” Sam leans back against his headrest. “Job sucks sombetimbes, huh?”

“Oh God, yeah.” Dean sighs too, in sympathy, and regards Sam. “You know what, though, you’re breathing. I didn’t murder any seventeen year olds. Sometimes it’s not so bad.”

Sam reaches for another tissue to blow his nose. “I guess.”

“Plus, you know what, I can totally distract you.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a whole world of daytime soap operas you’ve never been properly introduced to…”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever…”

“In fact I think it’s part of my duty as your brother…”

Sam straps the mask back over his face and shuts his eyes. It’s good enough for Dean.

--

(A.N. Thanks for sticking it out with me, guys - I had lots of fun )

[VividBubbles!]

*giggles hysterically*

That ending! So... heart squishingly, fangirlily sweet! Sammy is getting better and Dean is now sick and everything is just so adorable! I love your writing so much.

BYE!

[ichixshiro14]

LOVEEEEEE!!!

[Zwee]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. Ending the story with ridiculously sneezy Sammy and humour?? <3 You're too perfect!! And Sam and Dean are sooo so so cute. I can't stand it!

This story, dear... was amazing! And really entertaining. And just so cute. So, thank you so so much!