Mind Over Matter (SPN)

[Anilkex]

This is based on a Sexual Oddity's seriously intriguing prompt on Senberet's meme. Prompt is at the end so as to maximize the WOW factor. Or something like that. I don't post stories in pieces because I'm a total chicken about it...so this is in one nice sized chunk.

As usual, there be language.

xxxxx

The first time I realized something was wrong, we were on the outskirts of Ponca City, Oklahoma. We were pouring over a map from the city’s archives, trying to pinpoint where Daniel McCracken was buried.

“I’m pretty sure he’s over on this side of the property,” Sam said, straightening up from the table. “There’s nowhere else that makes sense.”

I nodded and chewed on my lower lip. “Sounds good to me,” I said, stretching. “Let’s grab some dinner and relax a bit before we torch him.”

I started rolling up the map, carefully watching Sam from the corner of my eye. It’d only been a few weeks since Jess died, and his behavior was a little off. Well, okay, more off than someone who just watched their girlfriend die from something Supernatural. He still looked tired, still carried around that devastated look on his face, still had nightmares that woke him every single night.

I couldn’t really pinpoint exactly what was going on...I just knew something extra was brewing beneath the surface.

“I think we ran out of gasoline, so we’re gonna have to use that stuff for barbeques instead, okay?” I finished rolling the map and put a rubber band around it to keep it together.

Sam absently rubbed his nose, eyes still on the table where the map was. Spacing out, too. Awesome.

“Sammy? Sam!” I snapped my fingers near his face. He jumped and looked at me an apologetic smile flashed before his eyelids fluttered and he stifled a sneeze on his wrist.

“Whoa...I...sorry...” He sniffed while fumbling in his pocket. He produced a crumpled tissue, which he pressed to his nose, widening his eyes a few times while blinking.

I chuckled, tossing the map onto my bed. “Only you would apologize for sneezing. C’mon. Let’s get some food.”

xxxxx

The abandoned property was really...abandoned. There were no lights, no nothing, so we pulled out the big flashlights and hefted shovels over our shoulders as we made our way to the far side of the lot. I volunteered to carry the accelerant, so Sam was in charge of the salt.

He was sniffling a little, so I figured he probably caught a cold or something. We were running a little ragged, trying to find Dad, hunting whatever was in our path, and Sam was still adjusting to Jess’s murder. I was worried about him, but there wasn’t much I could do or say. I hadn’t been around the kid in over two years. I couldn’t expect to resume taking care of him after he’d been on his own.

We got to the site and started to dig. It wasn’t as bad as it usually is - the soil was loose and the night was cool, so sweat and effort were at a minimum. Once I struck the coffin, I waggled my eyebrows and Sam (who rolled his eyes at me) and pried the lid off. There, inside, lay one Daniel McCracken, a sad and lonely sonofabitch who just wanted someone to notice him.

I was about to ask Sam to salt the bones when I saw him vigorously rubbing his eyes.

“You okay?” I asked, taking a step towards him.

“Yeah...just...eyes itch...ugh…” He lowered his hand and blinked his eyes several times. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a tissue, wiping his eyes and nose. He turned to me, half-smiled, then got that vacant look in his eyes. His breath hitched, he took a step backwards.

“TCHSHYEW! Fuck…” he swore, scrubbing at his nose with the heel of his hand.

“Seriously, you okay?” I asked again, pulling out the matches. I was pretty sure by now he was sick. I figured we’d light this guy up, hit a Walgreens on the way back to the motel, and then chill for a day or so.

Sam nodded and swiped at his nose one more time. “Yeah, let’s just get this over with.” He picked up the cannister of salt, and liberally spread the crystals all over the body.

I dumped the fuel on top of the salt, keeping an eye on Sam. He took a couple steps backwards, pressing his wrist to his nose. I lit a match, and tossed it in.

Up in flames, went Daniel McCracken.

And up went the histamine level in Sam.

He took a couple steps back and launched into a sneezing fit that bent him double. He couldn’t stop - they just kept coming.

“Hhhhh-etTSCHEW! t’SHHUH! ITSCHEW! Heh-ITSCHOO! HTSHHCH! heh…heH-EHTSCHEW!”

I hauled him back to the car, and set him in the passenger seat. Placing a steadying hand on his back, I watched helplessly as he continued to sneeze uncontrollably.

I looked over my shoulder at the fire, and knew that I needed to refill the hole and grab our supplies. When he got to a point where he could gasp between mini-fits, I decided I could risk running back there.

“Sam - I’m gonna finish the job. Stay here, understand?”

He looked up at me. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was breathing through his mouth. He could only nod before the next fit seized him.

I ran back to the grave and figured that Daniel had burned long enough. I quickly filled in the hole, effectively snuffing out the fire, picked up the shovels and remaining flashlight, and ran back to Sam. The sneezing slowed down, and he was vigorously rubbing his eyes and blinking.

I tossed the equipment on the ground near the trunk, and crouched near the passenger door. Placing a hand on his arm, I gently asked, “Hey, you okay?”

Sam nodded and took a ragged breath as he ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah...I...think so. Fuck, that was...ITSCHCHH! fuck...” He looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “I...what was that?”

I shrugged and squeezed his shoulder. “I think you caught a whammy of a cold, Sam. Let’s get you outta here.”

Sam nodded again, digesting my words, trusting that whatever I said was truth. He swallowed and swung his legs inside, letting me shut the passenger door.

I jogged to the driver’s side, already mapping where the drug store was in relation to our motel, and calculating the time it would take for cold meds to take effect in relation to the time it would take to pick up soup on the way back. I felt the rhythm of “Sammy caretaking” coming back to me - it was like riding a bicycle.

By the time I finished with all my mental math, I found myself sitting behind the wheel just staring out the windshield. Okay, the rhythm was back, but the multi-tasking was a bit rusty.

Sam was watching me with amusement in his red, swollen eyes. “You dobne with your bental bath?”

I blinked at him. “I’ll pretend I understood that so we can just get going.” I started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

xxxxx

By the time we got back to the motel, Sam’s sneezing had abated a bit. He’d swallowed the medicine I bought without question (another red flag) and was slouched in the front seat Once parked, we trudged into the room. I set down all the supplies and soup that I bought (So I overbought...sue me) and turned to Sam.

“Hey...take a hot shower, okay? See if it helps clear you up.”

Sam nodded and grabbed some clean clothes out of his duffel. I brushed past him on my way to the thermostat. Just as our shoulders touched, Sam burst into another sneezing fit.

“Jesus, Sam!” I put my hand on his back and guided him to the bed. Finally, he slowed enough to where he could teeter to the bathroom, insisting he was okay to shower on his own.

I sat at the table and ran my fingers through my hair. Something wasn’t right. No fever, no coughing, no headache, no symptoms other than the sneezing and congestion that resulted from it.

This didn’t sound like a cold...it was an allergic reaction to something. Question was...what?

I backtracked over where we’d been, and what we encountered, and there was simply nothing out of the ordinary. We were leaving in the morning, so hopefully, whatever triggered this would be left behind, too.

xxxxx

Normally, the crap we hunt varies, but I think the number one fugly we encounter is a vengeful spirit. I guess that’s ‘cause dead people are everywhere, meaning spirits can be anywhere, and since people everywhere are generally dicks...well. Plenty of opportunity for vengeful Supernatural activity.

So I wasn’t really surprised when our next hunt was another spirit, three states over. Three states away meant plenty of distance between Sam and whatever set off that insane allergy fit.

I couldn’t drive away faster.

A few days had passed, and after extensive research (...on Sam’s part) we narrowed down the location of the object we needed to torch.

I’d been watching Sam more closely, taking note of where we were and what he was exposed to. He's been fine, so there was no reason for me to literally hover. Mental hovering is a whole other thing, and a whole lot easier to hide.

Besides, it’s easier to justify when I tell myself it’s to make sure he doesn’t get me killed.

Once we got to the actual planning stage for the salt and burn, Sam started up again. Since I was watching him like a hawk, it was easy to spot the signs.

We were sitting in the motel, laptops open, papers scattered across the table, pens being chewed on, and half-empty coffee cups being used as paperweights. We were formulating the plan for later that night.

Absently clicking the button on his pen, Sam stared at his monitor. “Okay, so Marie’s scarf is packed away in the front closet, right? Shouldn’t be too hard to...uh…*sniff* ugh...to find.”

I watched him rub his nose emphatically, his eyes blinking wildly. “You okay?” I ask.

He glanced up at me. “Yeah...yeah, I’m fine. If it’s packed, it’s in a box, and it can’t be that big. We can get in there, grab it, burn it and...a - hhh-hih-HEH-ETSHHCHH! Goddammit!” His eyes watered and he grabbed a napkin from the table and covered his nose in time for another sneeze to hit. “Hhhheh-t’SHHUH!” He bent over, almost smacking himself on the table, and stayed there for a second, before righting himself and shaking his head.

I narrowed my eyes at him and thought back to the last case. We were in the motel room when he first sneezed...we were talking about the case and where the body was. Same as now, only instead of a body, we were looking for vintage decorative neck ware.

“What?” He asks, blowing his nose and wiping at his eyes.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to say anything. He’d just chalk it up to big brother insanity. It did sound crazy - Sam’s allergic to planning sessions now? No, that wasn’t it. I needed more information before bringing it up.

You know...assuming this is something, and I’m not completely overreacting. ‘Cause I don’t do that when it comes to Sam.

Riiiiight.

Well, I’d like to believe that I’m just rusty at the brother thing, and that I’m looking for shit where there’s no shit to be found, but then there’s Sam, unable to take a decent breath, because he’s completely overwhelmed by sneezing as soon as the old bat’s scarf lights up. We repeat what we did last time - get back to the motel, get cleaned up, take meds (Benedryl this time), get him to sleep it off.

Two hunts, two reactions, two times too many. I’m thinking it’s time for a break.

“A break? Are you nuts? No, we’re not taking a break. We need to find Dad! I sneezed a little, Dean, it’s not a big deal. I’m not sick - I can still hunt.”

“Sammy, it is a big deal. Something’s going on - there was no reason for those fits. Believe me, I know.”

We were driving towards a Black Dog hunt near Caleb. I offered to help, as long as Sam got to stay behind. He wasn’t happy about that decision.

“Dean, I swear to God. I’m not being benched. Maybe the scarf was dusty, or had mothballs on it, or there was pollen in the air or I don’t know, okay? Doesn’t matter - I’m fine, and I’m not sitting out because of a few sneezes.”

“A few? Dude - you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t move. All you could do was rip those motherfuckers out, one after the other, and nothing stopped them.” I couldn’t stop them.

“This is a Black Dog, Dean. I’m not sitting out. End of discussion.”

He cranked Metallica on the stereo (oh, way to suck up, Sammy), crossed his arms on his chest, and stared sullenly out the window.

Two can play the stubborn game. Just wait.

xxxxx

Caleb greeted us at the door and ushered us inside. “Sorry you can’t go out there with us, Sam.”

“Oh, I’m going, Caleb. No worries, there.” Sam gave me a look, challenging me right then and there. But unknown to him, I had a plan.

Caleb looked from Sam to me. “Oh! I thought…”

“Nah, Sam convinced me he’s okay to go, so it’'ll be a three-way tonight, Caleb.” I smiled brightly at Sam, causing his cocky expression to falter a little as he wondered what I was planning.

“Oooo-kay then. Let’s get to work.”

Caleb pulled out a map of the area and spread it on a table. This is when it starts - the planning stages. So I dragged it out, going over every detail of the hunt two to three times, fully expecting the Sneeze Switch in Sam’s head to flip, so I can tell him that he needs to take it easy and sit this one out.

For the next hour or so, we figured out our strategy. For the next hour or so, I was ready to shove a big, fat “I told you so” in Sam’s face. For the next hour or so...not so much as a nose rub out of Sam.

Tired of my stalling, Caleb left to gather the new weapons he wanted to use on the hunt.

Flummoxed, I took a long swallow of beer and stared morosely at the map. It’s not that I wanted Sam to suffer with another fit. It’s not that I wanted Sam to sit out of the hunt. I just wanted to have solved this, so Sam didn’t have to suffer and didn’t have to sit out.

Sam smugly eyed me over the top of his bottle. “You look so disappointed.”

I grunted, eyeing the smiling busty chick on the beer label.

He continued to gloat. “I told you I’m fine. Freak reaction...that’s all.” He took a drink and set the bottle down. He was quiet for a couple seconds. “Unless…”

I looked up sharply. “Unless what?”

“...Unless you didn’t want me to go because...you just don’t want me around.” He peered up at me through those moppy bangs with that fucking kicked puppy look. Only he could turn my worry for his safety into a moment of low self-esteem.

I rolled my eyes and sat forward. “Shut up, Sam. I just...I have this feeling that something’s going on.” I shook my head slowly. “I thought I had it figured out, but maybe...maybe I’m just out of practice.”

Sam frowned. “Out of practice for what?”

“For taking care of you.”

Sam straightened in his chair, all traces of gloating gone. “Dean…”

I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. You seem fine, so let’s go kill a bitch.”

I knew he’d want to talk about it more, so I quickly got up, tossed my empty bottle in a recycling bin, and got ready to go.

xxxxx

The hunt passed uneventfully. Tracking it was easy. Trapping it was easy. Killing it was easy.

Too easy.

We stood over the body, watching blood gently pool from head and chest wounds. It was a big fucker, and took a couple rounds to bring it down.

Caleb knelt and pulled kerosine out of his backpack. Curious, I asked, “What’s the juice for?”

Caleb pointed at the dog. “Did some digging, and found out that with the big ones like this guy here, the chances of reincarnation are slightly elevated.”

Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Reincarnation?”

Caleb nodded. “Only way to make sure it stays dead is to burn the body nice and crispy.”

Sam sniffed. “I never heard that before. Dean?”

I shook my head. “Nope...new to me.” I bent down to pick up the kerosine so I could help pour it on the body.

Sam took a step back, uncertainty on his face. I uncapped the accelerant, and started to pour, noting how Sam took yet another step back and was rubbing his nose.

Oh, shit.

“Sammy?” I asked, trying to sound casual. He knew what I was really asking though, and he looked at me with an expression that mixed irritation at my observation skills and concern that his nose was acting up again, and there wasn’t any obvious reason for it.

He shook his head, pressing his wrist under his nose and sniffing loudly. I could see his chest starting to rise and fall a little quicker, his eyes now on the dog.

I came back around to put the kerosine in front of Caleb. I took Sam by the arm and pulled him further away.

It didn’t matter.

As soon as Caleb lit the match, Sam lost the battle to the first one. “Hhhh-EhHSCHYEW!”

He stumbled back, gripping my arm for support. I looked at Caleb, then at Sam, did more mental math, and realized….Shit!...It’s fire!...just as Caleb dropped the match onto the marinated dog.

Aaaaaand here we go.

“Huhhh-TSCHHH! ITSCHCHH! ETSHHCHH! Hp-TSCHCHHH! Hehhh--hhhHH-ITSCHEW!”

Sam was on the ground, unable to get a breath, fist clenched in my jacket and holding on for dear life. His eyes were watering, and he just, couldn’t, stop. Caleb looked at me in alarm, not sure what to do.

I knew Caleb had to stay behind to take care of the body, so I half-dragged half-carried my exploding mess of a brother back to the car. Once we were far enough away, he showed signs of slowing down.

“Oh...oh by..ESSHH! *sniff* God...I can’t...ITSCHCHH! stop…De- ETSHHCHH! Please… TSCHHHUH!”

“It’s okay, Sammy…” I pressed tissues to his face (whatever, I came prepared anyway), kept his hair out of his snot (‘cause, gross…) and let him hang on as tight as he needed to. Once I could see him actually taking in more air than he was expelling, I crouched down and looked him in the eyes.

“Sammy...it’s gone. Okay? The fire’s gone - it’s out.”

He looked at me like I had an extra head on my shoulders. “What are you talkig about?”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “The fire. I think it’s fire that’s setting you off.”

He scoffed and sniffed at the same time, making the most amazing sound. “That’s ridiculous. I’b dot allergic to fire…ESSHH! Fuck…” He was breathing through his mouth, staring past me.

I could see him thinking.

“Huh…” Was all he said after a minute. He looked down at wad of tissues in his hands, then back up at me. “So...what do I do?” He used that tiny voice that told me Sammy was asking, not Sam.

I was a little surprised at the question. Not because he asked it, because really, it was a natural question to ask. I was surprised because he asked me the question, and wanted me to tell him what to do. Independent Sam who’d been on his own for four years. He asked me, because I had the answers.

Riiiiight.

I sighed. “I’m not sure, Sam. Let’s get you back to Caleb’s before deciding anything. Once you can breathe normally, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He accepted my answer, just as he started to inhale erratically. He shook his head from side to side, for the the longest build-up ever. He brought the wad of tissues to his face. “HHHHhhhhh-hih-hih-hhh- hehhhhhh-HEH-ITSCHCHH!”

He dropped his head to my shoulder and groaned. I leaned my head against his. “Trust me - we’ll figure this out.”

xxxxx

Later that night, we lay shoulder to shoulder in the bed we were sharing. Luckily, Caleb got the hint that I didn’t want to discuss Sam’s reaction to the burning, so he left us alone in the spare room, with instructions to let him know if we needed anything.

Oh, I needed something, he just didn’t have the answers.

I knew this “allergy” was all in Sam’s head. Question was, how to deal with it.

I did a little online research while Sam cleaned up in the shower. I read about psychological aspects of allergies, which was harder to find than I thought. There were some tips about how to deal with and hopefully get over it. A lot of it sounded like fucking bullshit to me, but this was Sam, so I was willing to try anything.

Except for Sam’s occasional sniffling, we were quiet, each lost in our own thoughts. I rolled onto my side and flicked his ear. He smacked my hand, huffed like a baby, and just kept staring at the ceiling. Finally, he broke the silence.

“What am I going to do? I can’t keep sneezing like an idiot every time we have to light something on fire.”

“I know, Sammy. I, uh, kinda have a plan.” It wasn’t really a plan, per se. More like a general, vague, more or less idea of something we could try. But he didn’t have to know that.

He rolled onto his side facing me, propping his head on his elbow. “Seriously? Great! That’s...great! So...what do I do?”

This right here is why I will jump off a fucking cliff for this kid. I’m laying here smearing bullshit as thick as it can get, and he’s looking at me like I am the key to his future, like I’m his hero.

Sending a plea for success to the universe, I start to formulate a plan to go with my general, vague idea. “Well, obviously this is connected to Jess, right?” He nods. “So, we need you to believe that while that fire was bad, not all fire is bad or will have the same results. Believing that you can be around fire and not have something bad happen, is important. Remembering that fire is helpful, is important. Accepting that only one fire involved Jess, and that that fire is over and done with, is crucial.”

Sam’s eyes watered a little at my usage of the “F” word and Jess’s name. I counted three sniffles during my little impromptu speech/plan, but otherwise, he was with me the whole time, nodding thoughtfully and processing everything.

“Okay...okay that makes sense. But...how? How do I think about using fire when...when - TSCHHH! *sniff* - when I keep doing that?” Sam pulled the blanket over his face when he sneezed. He lowered it slowly, not sure if he was finished. Deciding this was a one shot sneeze, he let the blanket fall back to the bed, but his hand hovered over it just in case.

The website didn’t have activities listed to help improve willpower, so I had to make that up on my own. Like I wasn’t doing that already. “Alright, so, uh, what we need to do, is get you to convince yourself that not only can do this, but that it’s the right thing to do.”

He looked at me skeptically. I don’t blame him. I was looking at me skeptically.

I held up my lighter, watching Sam’s eyes widen. “Sam,” I said reproachfully, “Stop that. Think with me. What do we use this for?”

“Setting things on fire,” he mumbled, sniffing hard and rubbing his nose with his wrist. I heard the Duh in his answer but ignored it.

“Okay, good. What things do we set on fire?” I felt like I was talking to six-year-old Sammy all over again.

He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Sam. Work with me, here.”

“*sniff* Um...bad things? Like, the bones of the deceased, Wendigos, and corpses of almost any...anything…”

I could see him struggling for control. He was blinking really fast, his breath was hitching a little, and he kept swallowing it all down, literally.

Encouraged, I said, “That’s right - bad things. That’s what we use fire on. Remember that, Sammy. We use it for good reasons. Only good reasons. It helps us fight evil.”

I held the lighter a little closer to Sam’s face. He recoiled a little, not wanting it near him. The wrist was now scrubbing at his nose, and he shook his head from side to side, clearly wanting me to remove it.

But I couldn’t. This was the only way I could think of to help him out. He had to remember that fire symbolizes a lot more than Jess’s death - that it also symbolizes life, good beating an evil sonofabitch, warmth, safety, and all that crap.

“Ready?” I asked.

He was actively shoving his wrist into his nose, eyes watering, breathing uneven. He shook his head wildly, closed his eyes, and, “et-TSCHHHUH!” He scrubbed harder, mumbling, “Fuck!”

I put down the lighter and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his face. “Hey...hey...don’t get upset. If you get upset, it’s just gonna make it worse. Look, this isn’t going to fix itself tonight. I’m guessing we need to do...this...for a while. You know...until you’ve, well, dealt with Jess’s death.”

“heh-ITSCHEW! So what, every day we’re gonna lay down and you’ll wave your lighter at me, until my head stops exploding?”

“Um. Yeah, pretty much.”

“So...desensitivity?

“Yes, Sam, I’m trying to desensitize you from fire.” I rolled my eyes at Psych Sammy 101. “How do you feel?”

“*sniff* My nose is on fire. I-can-feel-it-ITSCHCHH! ITSCHCHH! *sniff* Goddammit! I - I’m trying, Dean, I really am...ESCHHHCH!”

I threaded my fingers in those moppy bangs, and watched him morosely wipe his nose and sag against his pillow. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll fix this. I promise.”

He sighed and nodded his head. After a few experimental breaths, and finding no more sneezes lurking, Sam pushed closer and rested his head against my shoulder.

I sighed in return, gently pulling on his hair until he huffed a smile into my neck.

xxxxx

For the next month or so, we avoided salt-and-burns like the plague. If a monster needed to be torched, Sam helped get it down, then stepped back for the burn. It was rough and annoying, but eventually, Sam was able to go from full-blown attacks at the mere hint of fire, to minor sniffling and nose-rubbing, to nothing.

It took that month for Sam to get over this. Every night and every morning, I’d show him the lighter, move it close, flick it open, then light it. We practiced positive self-talk that left us both embarrassed, blushing, and feeling like we were doing something stupid. But I don’t fucking care. It worked. It worked, and now Sam’s able to stand next to me, toss the match into the coffin, watch it burn, and totally be okay.

xxxxx

Prompt: After Jess' death Sam develops a horrible allergy to smoke and the smell of burning. It turns out to be psychological, but given the amount of burning things they do in their day to day lives, it's something of a problem. Dean has to figure out a way to fix his brother.

[sadie22233]

what a fascinating premise -- and what a wonderful execution! nice job this was seriously amazing

[AngelEyes]

I felt the rhythm of “Sammy caretaking” coming back to me - it was like riding a bicycle.

By the time I finished with all my mental math, I found myself sitting behind the wheel just staring out the windshield. Okay, the rhythm was back, but the multi-tasking was a bit rusty.

Love this! I love the first person perspective, makes it interesting, with all the self talk and thought process. Very nice!

[Sawyer]

Oh my god... you're incredible! You keep them in character so well and you do such a good job with writing in DeanPOV, even though writing in first person is so difficult to do well! And all of those references of Sam looking up to Dean so much (SUCH a little brother thing!) And oh, man, stifling that first sneeze, and then all those powerful ones later (your spellings are AWESOME by the way) and so hot how he was getting frustrated and swearing so much and mmm takecharge!protectiveDean and all of the fits and the itchiness, oh my god, and I especially loved that "I-can-feel-it" leading up to that one sneeze, like, wow... just really really well written! I'm going to go and read this so many more times. What an awesome fill.

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

Not good with words but just WOAH the plot is sick & rad . Sneezy Sammy <3 caring Dean <3 awie

[Always-a-Ginger]

Awesome premise. Fantastic execution. Loved this.

[tarotgal]

Aw Sammy. You don't read a whole lot of first person SPN fic, but I liked some of the side comments Dean made justifying his actions; that brought a lot of humor and character into it. And the sneezing was just fantastic. Ohhhh some of those fits! Poor Sam! Leave it to Sam to take angst and grief to a whole new level and actually become allergic to fire. It was adorable and sexy and sad but still believable for him.

Thanks for pointing me to this!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Oh oh! This was very interesting! And promising to say the least. i never would have thought of something like this. Very well done!