If They'd Have Let Me Write The Pestilence Episode... (SPN)

[NorthernLady]

OMG i Really laughed at “Hello there, sniffles.” Could use a little more Castiel but I'm loving it as it is!

Please don't make us wait too long for the next bit!

[swann_ee_song]

AAGHHH!!! Brilliant! Your Crowley is spot on! *hugscuddles Sammy* I love how helpless he seems, and how Dean is being awesome!big brother. But not overly mother-henning it. Cannot. Wait. For more.

[ID2006]

How you manage to fit so much story line in is beyond me but OMG why oh why could they not have hired you to write this episode?

[SexualOddity]

Oh wow, thank you for your comments guys. I'm really glad Crowley came across okay. I've not written him before and I was nervous!

SenBeret: No, you haven't said that about fits. *beams* I'm really happy that you like!

Always-a-ginger: Believe me I have a chart! In fact it's the only vaguely legitimate use I've ever found for algebra (If t is 2010 and Sam's t-4 and Dean's t-6 is winter 2009 and on and on until my head explodes...)

NorthernLady: Actually, in my first draft it was Cas who gave them the extra info about the Pestilence and not Crowley, but it's set right at the time when he's just zapped away the angels and gone awol and right before he comes back with human weaknesses and it was too hard to deal with all that and the Pestilence at the same time. I do have another plan for introducing him a bit later on, but I could probably use lowish expectations and some concrit from you when we get to that, because I'm not all that confident about my Casvoice!

Icky: Right? One of us should definitely have written it. The writers need to learn when to defer to the experts!

--

Dean knows they’re in for trouble from the way that Sam yanks the chair away from the desk, thuds onto it and snatches at a pen and paper, all the while sneezing into the crook of his arm as if the violence of them were some sort of measure of his blood pressure.

“Look, Sammy, not that I want to agree with Crowley but...”

“HhH-EHH-HHSH’SHOO! KHHtSHhYEW! HhHhPTtt! H’SHHH! ISHH! HttTSHH’SHYUH!”

Dean moves to sit beside him, reaching for the bandana that he’s abandoned by the used one on the table and guiding him to sit upright with a touch on the shoulder.

Sam pulls away.

“Ca-ahh... Hhhh!” Sam breathes, still scrawling on the page. “Can’t HhhaHHtTSHHH! Can’t get... anything. Can’t...ESHH’SHUH! go-hhuh... anywhere. Ehh’HAHhISHH’SYEW!”

“Sam will you just stop writing!”

This time Dean actually takes his pen and grips him by the shoulders. Sam looks as though he’s going to struggle for a second until his brow furrows and he has to twist within Dean’s grasp to sneeze over his shoulder.

“EhHhKk’TCHYEW!... TCHH’Yew!... HAH’PIsshhShyew!... ... IHhhSHyew!... ... ... ISHHhh!”

He’s slowing down. Dean trusts it enough to release his grip. He hands him the bandana. “Now will you breathe? And blow your nose for God’s sake!”

“Dean...”

“I’m serious. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve but believe me when I tell you that you’re useless for anything like this.”

Dean’s not sure whether he’s finally listening, or just too tired to argue, but this time Sam does turn, breathes deep and blows his nose. Either way, Dean counts it as a win.

“Okay,” he rallies, “You need Kleenex pretty much yesterday, plus cold medicine and food and...”

“No” Sam says, simply.

“What do you mean ‘no’?"

Sam rubs his nose on his sleeve and sniffs.

“Just no, Dean. You heard Crowley. We don’t know if we’re contagious.”

Dean breathed. “I know. I know okay.” He slumps in his seat. “But if we don’t fix this then everyone dies. We’re gonna have to start taking care of ourselves.”

“Well, let me do it this way,” Sam mutters, plucking back his pen from Dean’s grasp. He squints for a moment at the far wall, hand hovering in a fist in front of his nose. “Hehhh... HuhhhHATtTtCHYEW! ATchTCHYew! Khh’HAHtTCHYEW!” He sniffs and presses the heel of his hand against his face. “Okay. I’m gonna need your brain for this. We gotta figure out a three year history of illnesses.”

Edited September 5, 2013 by SexualOddity

[Armor.]

I am absolutely in love with this! Continue please! I can't wait for more

[VividBubbles!]

Hehe, smart!Sammy to the rescue!! Hm, I wonder exactly how horrified they're going to be when they each see their lists.

Poor Sammy! Gosh, all that sneezing must be exhausting!

Can't wait for more!

BYE!

[SweetShadows]

Oh my gosh, poor Sammy. Still trying so hard to think while he can't even breathe. I can't wait to see the lists....

Thank you so much for this! I'm so excited to see what happens next.

[NorthernLady]

I could probably use lowish expectations and some concrit from you when we get to that, because I'm not all that confident about my Casvoice!

Anytime Man! I'd be glad, delighted and a little excited if I can help you anyway I can Message me if you need me Cas-proofing your dialogue Oh and for the record, they seem like they could use an angel right now with that whole contagion thing

Awwww your Sam is deliciously writen too:)

[Always-a-Ginger]

Algebra, a chart and great writing. You are a genius!

And on a personal note - thank you again - simply because my week has been awful but on the worst days I have come to updates that make me smile.

Poor Sam would can possible think in that state! Hoping the boys can find a pharmacy that delivers since they are already at the tail end of supplies.

[Firebrand]

So, I've been a casual, sporadic lurker for awhile & it's this fic that made me finally join because I wanted to tell you YOU'RE AWESOME and I CAN'T WAIT TO READ MORE! I can absolutely see this playing out as an episode; you write the boys to perfection and omg CROWLEY. Did I mention you're awesome??

[SexualOddity]

Oh my goodness, Mahtalie, that's just the biggest compliment ever. I'm sure that you've had a lot of other convincers and that you'll have an amazing time here, but it's the best feeling ever the be the straw that broke the... uh... lurker's back?

You are all the best with ALL the encouragement. You've kept me going through a lot of moments of wondering what the hell I'm doing.

--

“HhEKk’AHhh! Y’ESHUOoo! HEHK’ISSHAH!”

Dean grimaces, wipes his nose on his sleeve and squints at the remarkably unhelpful list that the pair of them have pulled together. The pharmacy seems to be disconcertingly busy all of a sudden. Full of old people, and sick people, mothers with fucking kids for Goddsakes. He rocks on the balls of his feet, pinches his nose and tries really damn hard not to sneeze again.

His cheeks and his forehead had been aching for a while now with what had felt like a little bit more than an eleventh hour push from the roofie hangover, but Sam has turned into a walking biohazard, so it made sense that he took the minimart while Dean dealt with the potentially more vulnerable patrons of the drugstore. Figures, though, that Dean’s sinuses would start trying to evacuate themselves through his nostrils the second he walked through the door.

Dean’s eyes are buzzing, under the bridge of his nose is buzzing, and his throat is tight with the suppression of the whole thing. It’s tempting just to scramble to the counter with the bits and pieces he’s already managed to gather together, but Sam had been right when he’d said that this was a one shot only kind of thing. Fuck, he doesn’t even want to think about how many people he’s breathed on. They’re not coming out here again. He won’t do it. Even if he messes this whole thing up. They’ll live or fucking die on the back of the choices he makes in here. His head is stuffy and it spins with the pressure of the thing.

“Hh’AH!”

The gasp of air is so involuntary that it almost makes Dean jump. What had been dull tickling bursts into his nostrils, gathering and crawling at the skin on the inside of his nose. He grabs at it urgently with a finger and a thumb, but he can’t help sucking in air once again through gritted teeth.

“HehhNnNNGH! NNGH! GHhHuh’SHHHnn!”

An elderly woman lays a hand on his shoulder. Where the hell are these people coming from?

“You shouldn’t hold them back like that, pet. It’s no good for you.”

She’s not wrong. The string of sneezes had made his head pound and his ears pop. She doesn’t know what’s at risk though, so when a second set hit he still squashes them between thumb and finger, muttering something about a force of habit and trying to get some distance between him and the customers.

Backed into what is at least a relatively quiet corner, he rubs a hand across his forehead and studies the list. It’s a hair away from useless. They’ve got a couple of biggish illnesses each: flu for Sam and a nasty-ass infection for Dean; obviously, there’s this fucking sinus-slayer they’re fighting right now; other than that they have pretty much nothing. For God’s sake, they’re hunters. They go door to door interviewing, they stay up all night and dig up graves in the rain. They get sick all the damn time. But they’re also young and relatively healthy and things tend to be shaken off and forgotten just as quickly as they’re picked up. Neither one of them could separate any single day-to-day bug for the list. They only really remember the one that they’re fighting now because it was recent and, thanks to the fucking incessant sneezing fits, pretty damn notable.

He sighs and makes his way over to the cold and flu aisle, nose itching maddeningly, hoping that they’d remember anything more unusual. By the time he decides he’s got enough, Dean is an incompetent mess. He sneezes endlessly through handing his stuff to the cashier, even has to snatch a box of Kleenex back from her when his nose threatens to drip all over the counter top. Even so, he feels like an idiot hypochondriac when he breaks into his multipack of alcohol gel and insists that the shop assistant use it.

“GHHuhSHUH! HNNGHTuh! Suhh-seriously,” he tells her, “use the whuhh... huhhhHRSHH’SHhuh! The whole thing. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to get this bug.”

She gives him a smile that is way less patronising than it probably ought to be. He can only hope to God that she takes his advice.

[kendisima]

I love this SO MUCH. You're an awesome writer Can't wait to see what happens next!

[VividBubbles!]

Awwww, they're so concerned about all the other people they come in contact with and doesn't that just suck? Isn't it just so unfair that they have to be so concerned about everyone else when they're the ones who are so incredibly miserable and sick? Just... poor boys.

Can't wait to see the next update!

BYE!

[NorthernLady]

LOL Poor Dean! Trying so hard not to be 'Thyphoid Mary'

[swann_ee_song]

LOL Poor Dean! Trying so hard not to be 'Thyphoid Mary'

My thoughts exactly. And I can see him saying that last line with his beautiful-stuffy-gravelly-sick!Dean voice.

[Skyler]

I love this! Im glad we have some Dean sneezes now too <3

[telltale]

Yummmmm. I'm only reading the sneezy Dean bits tbh (I love Sam; it's just my weird h/c preference for latching onto only one character per fandom as far as this kink goes) but I can tell just from that and the beginning that you have a wonderful writing style and sense of plot.

[SexualOddity]

It’s like a weird-ass kind of Party when they make it home with the supplies. Apart from the obvious relief of having no one susceptible in the immediate vicinity, there’s something about the big bags of stuff and sharing what they’ve got that reminds him of a warped and germ-ridden version of Christmas. Dean’s stuff is better than Sam’s. Sam’s are all fruit and bread and tinned crap for when the fresh stuff runs out.

“You’re gonna like this,” Dean tells his brother, digging in the bag, while Sam hugs gratefully at a Kleenex box, helpless against a sneezing fit.

“Sanderson’s cream for nasal soreness” Dean reads from the packaging.

Sam almost chokes on his laughter. “AHSH’YEW Huhh-HUHr’rASHHSHYEW! Oh-Hhh! Oh my God,” he pants “youHhhUSHHAH! You gotta give me that.”

Dean hands over the box and Sam daubs it experimentally on his still twitching nose. Dean can’t help but smile.

“Never say I uhh... I don’t give you anything.”

He angles his head away from the table, knuckles pressing against the bridge of his nose. “HuhhEHTCH’CHYEW! HehEHPtTchEW! Huhh... HuHuHUH’RESHHHAH!”

Sam clicks his tongue in sympathy. “You’re sounding pretty bad already.”

Dean shrugs. “I guess we better get used to it.”

The air hangs a little too uncomfortably for a moment, so Dean clears his throat and brings them back to task. “Okay, your turn big guy, impress me.”

Sam pulls another couple of tissue from the box, chuckling, and wraps them around his nose. “Well, I don’t know... yours was a pretty tough act to follow.” He flashes a grin and digs in his own bag. “I give you...” he whips out an item from the bag with a flourish, “Lunch! I got your favourite,” he tells Dean as he hands it over, “Figured we’d better try get something down us while we still have an appetite.”

But Dean smile drops the minute he sees the packet. His stomach lurches with what’s probably equal parts regret and nausea. Sam’s at his shoulder in an instant.

“Dean? Dean, what’s up?”

“I had the sandwich Sam.”

It’s clear from Sam’s expression that he isn’t following.

“I had the stupid fucking wishing well sandwich.”

“Oh...”

“I’m gonna puke my guts up.”

Dean pushes the stupid pharmacy bags aside, all the laughing and joking seeming pretty idiotic now. He curses under his breath. Sam states the obvious before Dean is prepared to admit it.

“We’re gonna have to go back for pepto-bismal.”

---

Note for emetophobes: Just wanted to say - I'm with you guys! I wouldn't have put food poisoning in if it weren't cannon, but I promise it will be the tamest version imaginable and fully warning-labelled!

[VividBubbles!]

Oh no. Poor Dean.

Gosh, your writing is awesome. Looking forward to the next update!

BYE!

Edited September 16, 2013 by VividBubbles!

[NorthernLady]

LOL The wishing well sandwich Total genious! I'm an emetophobe but I don't care. I have too much fun reading your story to care You are my new hero!

[Always-a-Ginger]

Love the concept of a germ ridden Christmas and trying to one up each other with supplies. Poor Dean though - it is one thing to get food poisoning and another to know it is coming.

[ichixshiro14]

This is fantastic!!!

[Firebrand]

Oohhhh.... poor, poor Dean But, um, yaaaay that he's sneezy and sniffly & trying to keep it to himself? I seriously can't wait for you to continue this - so original & those boys are written SO WELL.

[Foxfire]

You are evil! All kinds of evil! Absolutly evil!

And soooooo brilliant! This story is amazing! Now I want you to be in charge for that episode... let's find a TARDIS and make it happen, 'kay?

[SexualOddity]

Thank you guys! Sorry for the wait x

--

They drive back to the Pharmacy on their way out of town in the end, or rather, Sam drives. Dean was a little embarrassed, handing over the keys, but he was gonna have a sneezing fit, several, in fact, and he doesn’t have the control Sam does over when they hit.

Dean’s a little jealous actually, Sam has this weird sneezing thing with light since he was a kid, and usually it looks like it’s nothing but irritating, but when he’s sick or allergic and itchy he can just look out at the Sun, or at the lamp in their room and sneeze and sneeze until he feels better. That sounds pretty good to Dean now, sitting in the passenger seat and rubbing circles at his nostrils with his knuckles. His breath catches for what must be the twentieth time and he shuts his eyes, concentrating as it speeds out of his control, desperate not to lose it, but just as tears collect at the corners of his eyes, just as the tickling collects at the very tip of his nose, the panting halts and slows, infuriatingly returning to a steady rhythm. He groans in frustration and squeezes irritably at his nostrils.

“Amazing that I had no problem sneezing when I was back in the drugstore.”

“Really?” Sam winces.

“Ugh. Yeah. Ended up buying a multipack of Purell and just handing them around.” He looks across at his brother, “Your voice sounds shot by the way.”

Sam is driving one-handed, the other clutching a handful of tissues to his nose as it runs unremittingly. “Too much sneezing,” he answers, like it’s not fucking obvious.

At least they’re getting out of the motel room, Dean rationalises, Bobby couldn’t do all that much for them when Dean phoned the job in, but he did take over the research front. That was a relief, because they were finding jack shit and Sam looked like falling asleep at the computer screen. Plus it freed them up to go and check out the warehouse that they’d woken up in that morning. No one would be there and with any luck it was gonna go some way to relieving Dean’s sudden-onset cabin fever.

God, they can’t arrive soon enough. This was only meant to be a stupid, sneezy-ass cold but since he got in the car Dean is feeling like fucking death. His breath is hitching but he won’t sneeze, he’s overheating, but rolling down the window is making Sam shiver, he’s shuffling uncomfortably in his seat because some scratch or other he’s probably picked up while being kidnapped is stinging and itching like a bastard. Yeah. A decent crime scene search sounds pretty damn good right now.

“HhhPPTCH!” Sam explodes into his sleeve. “F-uhhh... Fuck!HhHNNGHT!”

“Pull over.” Dean tells him. It’s not a suggestion.

Sam does, blinking desperately. “HehhhNDJJHHH! HEHPnnNGH! Urgh God, I hhuhhh... I couldn’t hold it back HuhhhH’ASHSHyew!”

With the car parked at the side of the road Sam cups his hands around his face and sneezes unrestrainedly while Dean gets him some fresh Kleenex from the bag in the back seat. Weird as it sounds, with Dean’s nose and sinuses still a mass of stale and directionless itching, Sam’s fit looks like a fucking dream. He watches his brother for a while. He’s helpless as sneeze after sneeze seizes him.

In a hopeless roll of the dice Dean drags a hand over his face and leans in his seat trying to catch sight of the Sun.

It just makes his eyes ache.

It’s gonna be a long drive.