The Very Thought Of You (SPN) Part 5 up (09/03)!

[Nola]

A.N./ Hey everyone! This is my first Supernatural fanfiction, and I know there are so, so many of you here who are so talented at this stuff, so I hope I can stack up! Before I begin though, I must take a moment to say a very big 'THANK YOU' to our own Sen Beret for beta reading this for me and answering all of my questions! Thanks, Sen! I hope you don't mind if I dedicate this whole thing to you! And without further ado....

The Very Thought Of You

The worn sign outside of the motel on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio said ‘Just Like The Comforts of Home’. Dean Winchester snorted at it. “Right. This piece of shit is home.” And then he thought about what he had actually just said, and it rang more true than sarcastic. Maybe not this shitty motel in particular, but motels in general had pretty much been home for him since he was five. Well, that and Bobby’s house. But, comforts of home? That phrase he associated with his mother, and well, motels had really nothing to do with her.

But maybe his car, the beloved ’67 Impala would be the substitute he sometimes required for a ‘home’. Most of the time, though, he could just deal. It’s what he had always had to do, after all. He shook off the reminiscing quickly, because he wasn’t some kind of damn sentimental – that would always be Sammy, except, oddly enough, when it came to things like home – and Christmas – but, hey, he couldn’t really blame the kid for that one.

Not kid. He could almost hear Sammy saying it with the irritation he had when he thought his older brother was being dense. Jesus, Dean, I’m not a kid anymore. Stop treating me like a kid. Whine. Whine. Whine. Well, in a way, Sammy was right, he wasn’t a kid; he was twenty six years old. And yet, Dean knew, in part, that he purposely did not remember because it gave Dean a purpose he was proud of – he had done most of the rearing where Sam was concerned. And Sam had grown up pretty damn decent. A college boy who was most of the time as logical as he was sensitive. Though these days, it was more the latter. Well, maybe he’d just go on and blame dear ol’ dad for their mistakes, though even before the thought fully registered he took it back. He never could blame his father like Sam could. Sam said it was because he worshipped the old man; Dean thought it was because their dad did what he had to and sometimes Sammy was a little bitch.

He again shook off the feelings that had gathered in his gut and in his heart. What the hell was wrong with him? What was with all these damn feelings? Can’t a guy go out for some coffee and the paper and not come back thinking of all his woes in the world? He had every intention of taking out his anger at his feelings out on Sam, just because, but when he entered room 003, he found his younger, but bigger, brother still fast asleep.

He shrugged, they had been through a lot lately, hell, these days, they hadn’t seen much of a break, so he figured Sam needed the rest. He popped the lid off the to-go coffee cup and started reading the paper, searching for those little believe it-or-not stories that had become their livelihood.

------------------------------------

Sam Winchester woke up to the sounds of his older brother, and constant roommate, tapping some pens onto the card table the motel had provided as a catch-all for food, work and other stuff. He had just a moment to think how annoying his brother could be before he noticed his head hurt something awful and he had a pretty serious sore throat going on. No wonder he’d slept for so long, he thought, as he noted the clock said nine-oh-seven. He cleared his throat and caught his brother’s eyes.

Dean sent him a faux-shocked face as he said, “Well, well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam made a face at Dean, yes, he decided acting mature could wait until after a shower, and pointed towards the butt-ugly burnt orange colored bathroom with the mildewed, piss-stream shower. Also, he wasn’t sure he could actually talk, yet, hence the gesturing.

When Sam returned from the shower, Dean figured he was awake enough to hear what he had found for them. “Hey, found something for us to do while we wait on the locations of the horsemen.”

Sam turned the rickety chair opposite of Dean around and sat on it backwards. Dean continued, “’Cuz, you know, we seem to have lots of spare time these days.”

Sam smiled, and discreetly ran a finger under his nose. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. Spill.” Thankfully, his voice didn’t sound as bad as his throat felt. He was almost ninety nine percent positive he was coming down with a bitch of a cold, but he’d keep that to himself. They had enough to worry about right now.

“Some bad voodoo down in The Big Easy,” Dean gave the short version. “Why can’t we ever catch a case in New Orleans during Mardi Gras?”

Sam shrugged. “Bad karma?”

“Maybe we can change it when we’re there,” Dean said. “Let’s eat breakfast and then hit the road, Jack.”

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The drive to Louisiana would be a long one, but Dean was in his element there, hanging with Baby and her pipes as Foreigner’s Cold As Ice played strongly. Sam, however, was none too thrilled of the prospect of being in close proximity to Dean when he was trying to hide an illness that didn’t want to stay hidden. Not yet two hours into the trip and his nose was failing to decide whether it wanted to leak or be clogged. His head still ached, but it was his throat that hurt the most. Was it too soon to determine strep? He hadn’t a clue.

He sniffled, for God-only-knew how many times now, because well, he had to, and wondered if Dean noticed. Correction: If Dean noticed yet. Because he always did. But, Sam thought he could have possibly held him at bay for at least a little longer if he didn’t have the sudden urge to sneeze. He knuckled his nostril in an attempt to stop the itch, but that seemed to intensify it. Well, might as well get to stopping it… “H’ChMMp!” He caught it within his steepled hands. Fuck, his throat really hurt.

“Bless you,” Dean said.

Sam cleared his throat. “Thanks.” So far, it seemed like a ‘normal’ ‘bless you’, if that made sense. Just an ordinary ‘bless you’ to an ordinary sneeze. And because ordinary was his intention, he asked, “What else can you tell me about the case? I mean, why would something that happened down in New Orleans make the news in Ohio?”

“I didn’t say I found the case in the paper, Sammy,” Dean said. The sleeping in late, the sniffles, the talking quietly and less often; Dean wasn’t born yesterday, and neither was Sam. Dean knew Sam probably better than anyone, and this Sam was leaning very near sick-and-hiding-it Sam.

“Oh okay,” Sam said, and frowned. “Is there a reason other than general weirdness why you’re being so vague today?”

“No,” Dean said. “We just don’t always tell each other everything, do we?” Oh yes, he was kind of enjoying himself.

So, maybe Dean already knew. He rolled his eyes, and might have responded if not for another sneeze. “H’ChMMp!” Again, caught in his hands, but this one followed by a stronger second. “Huh-EgShoo!”

“Bless you,” Dean said. He thought about just telling Sam he was a moron and that he already knew, but figured he’d save his knowledge for later. “Bobby called. Since he’s balls-deep in figuring out how to stop the apocalypse, he passed on this case to us.”

“And because New Orleans isn’t really Bobby’s style,” Sam added.

“That too,” Dean agreed. “Apparently, there have been three our-style murders all in the same family.”

“Ghost with a grudge?” Sam asked.

“Dunno,” Dean said, “But it sounds like it. Guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

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Edited September 3, 2014 by Nola

[PuddinPop]

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Nola, this is perfect! I don't read a lot of sick!Sam fics, but this just hit all my buttons!

You write the characters so well and I love the plot and the scenario!

I really hope you're planning to continue this, I would love to see more!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Ooooohhhhh! Yes. This is very promising! Please do continue.

[Sawyer]

Thanks, Sen! I hope you don't mind if I dedicate this whole thing to you!

I don't know what to say! I've never felt more honored. And so happy that everyone is liking this just as much as I do!!

[Always-a-Ginger]

Great start looking forward to more

[Seniorstatus14]

This story is perfection!! I've been craving some sick Sam for a while!!! Thanks so much for writing this AMAZING fic!

[Zwee]

Ummmm... So I haven't been on here in forever... I've been crazy busy and had computer issues, and all manner of excuses...

But I just came here to say that this is amazing. I'm so so so pumped to read the rest of this story!!

I second what Seniorstatus said. I've really been craving some sick Sammy. I gotta say, the whole hiding sickness from the other brother on a long car ride scenario is one of my favorites. And I LOVE it when Sam thinks he's doing an okay job at hiding it and Dean's just like "okay, I'll let you pretend to be fine, but I know the truth."

Characterization is spot-on. The dialogue, the internal monologue, the writing style... gah!! It's been so so long since I've seen this season, this brings it all back. I was reading the whole thing with a smile on my face. <3 No joke.

Also, I approve of your dedication to Sen Beret. She's amazing and I love her. <3 <3 <3

[Emily]

LALALALALALA-LOVE THIS

Who needs to watch the show when the forum's loaded with good SPN? I really love the way I can read this in their voices. Even in third person, from their narrative perspectives, they sound just like themselves (what am I saying lol) Oh yes, I think in character is the phrase I'm looking for I like how Sammy thinks he's almost got this one, being all casual and "tell me more about the case" and meanwhile Dean is trying not to smirk cause Mama Dean knows all.

“And because New Orleans isn’t really Bobby’s style,” Sam added.

It's totally yours though.

[Nola]

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Nola, this is perfect! I don't read a lot of sick!Sam fics, but this just hit all my buttons!

You write the characters so well and I love the plot and the scenario!

I really hope you're planning to continue this, I would love to see more!

Oh my... Thank you, Puddin'! And yay! to pushing your buttons!!

Ooooohhhhh! Yes. This is very promising! Please do continue.

I will, promise! Thanks for reading!

Nola, on 03 August 2014 - 04:25 PM, said:

Thanks, Sen! I hope you don't mind if I dedicate this whole thing to you!

I don't know what to say! I've never felt more honored. And so happy that everyone is liking this just as much as I do!!

Well, 'tis only fair, because it wouldn't have gotten this far without you....in fact, not sure I would have written anything if you didn't offer your help, haha!

Great start looking forward to more

More is a-comin'! Thanks for reading!

This story is perfection!! I've been craving some sick Sam for a while!!! Thanks so much for writing this AMAZING fic!

Perfection? Amazing? D'aww you're makin' me blush!

Ummmm... So I haven't been on here in forever... I've been crazy busy and had computer issues, and all manner of excuses...

But I just came here to say that this is amazing. I'm so so so pumped to read the rest of this story!!

I second what Seniorstatus said. I've really been craving some sick Sammy. I gotta say, the whole hiding sickness from the other brother on a long car ride scenario is one of my favorites. And I LOVE it when Sam thinks he's doing an okay job at hiding it and Dean's just like "okay, I'll let you pretend to be fine, but I know the truth."

Characterization is spot-on. The dialogue, the internal monologue, the writing style... gah!! It's been so so long since I've seen this season, this brings it all back. I was reading the whole thing with a smile on my face. <3 No joke.

Also, I approve of your dedication to Sen Beret. She's amazing and I love her. <3 <3 <3

Thanks Zwee! I feel special that you commented despite all your busy-ness and troubles!! I hear ya on the car rides when someone is sick....one of my favs too! And thank you so much for the 'characterization part...' I'm so so happy that you think it's spot on!

And yeah, Sen is amazing!

LALALALALALA-LOVE THIS

Who needs to watch the show when the forum's loaded with good SPN? I really love the way I can read this in their voices. Even in third person, from their narrative perspectives, they sound just like themselves (what am I saying lol) Oh yes, I think in character is the phrase I'm looking for I like how Sammy thinks he's almost got this one, being all casual and "tell me more about the case" and meanwhile Dean is trying not to smirk cause Mama Dean knows all.

YAY! I'm so happy you can hear them! I think this is what took me so long to write a SPN fic b/c I wasn't sure they would be them!

'Mama Dean' Gotta love him!

Nola, on 03 August 2014 - 04:25 PM, said:

“And because New Orleans isn’t really Bobby’s style,” Sam added.

It's totally yours though.

Aww, shucks!

Okie, I will post Part 2 in a new one, because, well, just because!

[Nola]

A.N./ Here is Part 2....a little more 'you know'...Enjoy!

Sam’s asking notwithstanding, Dean decided to drive the entire thirteen hours to New Orleans. And when the long drive had mingled down to the final three, Dean thought maybe he should have told Sam sooner that he wasn’t good at hiding things from him. Because Sam was probably miserable trying to contain his illness. He had been sneezing fairly frequently and was now starting to cough, too.

“H’EgShoo! Huh-Eckshoo!” Sam managed to aim his sneezes towards his upper arm.

Speaking of, Dean thought, before saying, “Bless you.” And then, he added, “Any chance you’re getting a cold there, Sammy?”

Sam sniffled and said, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” He and Dean generally worked the case no matter what, but sometimes, Dean was way too overprotective, and lately – after Sam’s addiction to demon blood, really – Dean had become even worse. A cold could give Dean the ammunition he needed to dictate that Sam needed to stay behind. “Maybe just an allergy,” he added.

“Well, I haven’t changed perfumes lately,” Dean said, sarcastically.

“Eshoo!” Another sneeze surprised him and he turned away just in time.

“And bless you again,” Dean replied.

Sam cleared his throat and muttered a ‘thanks’.

Unlike the cold, windy temperatures in Columbus, Ohio, New Orleans was a stagnant and humid fifty two degrees at eleven p.m. when they pulled into the nearly deserted motel. Different city, different motel; same idea. “Well, nothing to do but sleep ‘til morning,” Dean said, after he nudged his baby brother awake. “We’re here.”

Sam opened his eyes and blinked. “Uh, okay,” he managed before his jaw went slack and his breath hitched slightly. “Huh-Eshoo!”

“Come on, sickie,” Dean said. “Let’s get you settled in, huh?” And he took it as a personal win when Sam didn’t argue with the ‘term of endearment’. “We’ll check out the morgue tomorrow, and find the rest of the family members, since it’s very likely they’re in danger.”

Sam grunted, didn’t bother to remove more than his shoes, and went directly into bed. Dean huffed, “Some conversationalist you are.”

------------------------------------------------

When one’s livelihood was spent dealing with monsters, ghouls and demons, few other things registered as awful, at least not other ‘normal’ things. But, to Sam, stuffed up noses should be on the list. His morning shower helped little; it only made him cough and sneeze. It was even difficult to brush his teeth, because it was like he was holding his breath the whole time.

Before he and Dean drove to the city morgue, they stopped at a diner for breakfast. And amid the juxtaposition of laid back and busy which was New Orleans, he realized he was an idiot for trying to deny that he was sick. He felt awful; his head ached, especially his sinuses, his throat was still sore and the general feeling of being ill had settled over him like a dense fog.

And perhaps because he felt so horrible, it made sense that Dean would be grinning. Sam rubbed his face, perhaps in an effort to wake up, and said, “Why’re you so happy?” He wasn’t surprised to find that his voice was teetering towards unavailable.

Dean drummed his fingertips on the table and grinned. “Beignets, Sammy. Oh yes, I’m gonna eat like a king.” He wasn’t surprised to find his younger brother sounded hoarse, either.

Sam managed a smile and then coughed. He wasn’t going to say anything, but he really liked it when Dean had the chance to be happy, even if it was just because of food, the city or a song on the radio. Usually he could ignore it, but sometimes thinking about how much Dean had always sacrificed for him and their family was a tad overwhelming.

When the waitress came over to them, Dean did all the ordering, both to make sure Sam ordered something and because he was trying to save him his voice. He even picked something fairly healthy for Sam – a tall orange juice and plain grits, while he went for the mother lode of Cajun-perfected donuts and chicory coffee, because that’s what the locals drank.

“You eat that,” Dean said, pointing. “Because I’m not above force-feeding you.”

The paper napkins were in close proximity to Sam, thankfully, and he grabbed some just in time. “Hh’ChMMp! Heh-EgShoo!”

Dean might have blessed him, but could see he wasn’t quite finished yet.

“Huh-Eshoo!”

“I can do the morgue by myself,” Dean suggested.

Sam blew his nose and then coughed. “If I’m gonna be stuffed up, Dean, why not spend time in a morgue?”

------------------------------------------------

The forensic pathologist who had autopsied the first two bodies was unavailable, as was the one who had autopsied the third. However, the secretary made arrangements for the two FBI agents to see the resident blood expert who had been present during all three autopsies.

“Hi,” she said, and without preamble, stuck out her hand to shake both Sam’s and Dean’s. “I’m Jessica Landry, the blood specialist as I’m sure I was referred to.” She was petite, about five foot two, and had dark brown hair and dark eyes confirming her Cajun heritage. She was wearing a tee shirt that said ‘I Heart Sookie’, referring to True Blood’s Sookie Stackhouse, and a pair of light wash jeans. Casual Tuesdays, perhaps? She asked them, in her cute barely-there accent, “Which one of you is Agent Wayne and which one is Agent Drake?”

Dean replied that he was ‘Agent Wayne’ and Sam suppressed an eye roll. Their aliases were part of the job, sure, but sometimes Dean took it too far. And, of course, he always made Sam the ‘sidekick’. Sam wasn’t able to suppress the cough as easily as his irritancy, though, and wished he would have thought to bring along some cough drops or something.

She led them in to see the first body – a man in his fifties, probably. His name was Gerald Devareaux. Something had caused Devareaux’s body to be nearly emaciated, and the boys had looked at enough dead bodies to know decomposition did not work that fast. “This dude have an eating disorder or something?” Dean asked Jessica as Sam stood farther back from the body. Out of the two of them, he was perhaps a tad more squeamish, and though this body was not the worst they’d seen, it wasn’t pretty.

“Actually, he was exsanguinated.”

“Ugh, how’d that happen?” Dean asked.

Jessica Landry was the pleasant sort, but she wasn’t clueless. “Say, why’s the FBI interested in these people anyways?”

Sam said, “Three deaths, all in the same family. You know what they say about serial killers.”

She gave him a sympathetic look as she had just heard his voice for the first time. “Sounds like you’ve got a cold there.” Without waiting for a response, she continued, “You know I was here but a month before I caught my first serial murder case.” She shrugged, “This may be The Big Easy, but this here isn’t Easy Street.”

Seeing she was back to telling-all, Dean asked, “So, what causes a guy to lose all his blood?”

“A hungry vampire?” she questioned, and giggled. “Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is homicide. But there are no defensive wounds, and there aren’t any offensive wounds either.”

“No bite marks?” Dean asked, tongue-in-cheek.

She smiled, “Depending on the fandom you’re into, some vampires can heal their bite marks.” More seriously now, she pointed at the eyes and said, “You can’t tell now, but it appeared the bleeding came from the eyes.”

“Is there anything that might cause that sort of thing?” Sam asked congestedly. He was attempting to hold back a sneeze and wasn’t sure how much longer he could manage.

“Sure,” Jessica replied, “But nothing of this magnitude.”

Dean and Sam shared a look – this was definitely their kind of dead body – and Dean said then, to Jessica, “What about the other two bodies?”

Jessica nodded and they followed her over to another steel table where a body lay covered respectively. “Mr. Devareaux’s wife, Eileen,” she said as she removed the shroud.

They had suspected that Eileen would be emaciated too, that whatever it was that was causing their deaths would work in the same way. But they were wrong. She looked almost normal, simply touched in the way death touches everyone – by removing the sheen from the eyes and the glow of life from the skin – except that Eileen’s lips appeared to be gone, and Jessica explained that the petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes meant she had choked to death. Funny thing was, Eileen had no obstructions in her throat, which was not swelled as it would be in anaphylactic shock.

“How could she just choke on nothing?” Dean asked.

“Maybe whatever she choked on was removed after she died?” Sam suggested. And then much to his dismay, ended up sneezing. “Huh-H’ChMMP!”

“Bless you,” Jessica supplied, and added, “That’s a good suggestion, except I’d expect there to be some damage done to her throat. And there isn’t any that I can see.” She gently lifted the woman’s head, pointing to the back of it where there were several bumps and bruises. “This was most likely self-afflicted.”

“Let’s take a look at the third body,” Dean said. He didn’t like this case. It was strange. And he didn’t like the idea that Sammy, admittedly, often times the brains of their operation, was really in no condition to think clearly.

Jessica led them to yet another steel table; because this morgue was central to the city, it was large and could occupy up to eight or nine bodies at a time. And that was only counting the dead ones. “This is Mrs. Angela Bufont. Mr. Devareaux’s sister. We haven’t completely finished her autopsy.”

“What can you tell us about her?” Sam asked, looking down at the woman who was by far, the most mutilated of the three.

“Mrs. Bufont has lost a good portion of her hair. It’s an asymmetrical pattern and it was most definitely pulled out in large sections, as you can see by the missing pieces of skin.”

“Meaning what?” Dean asked, but he had a pretty good idea.

“It was ripped out, Agent Wayne. And by the angle of the removal patterns, it appears she did the removing herself.”

“How did she die?” Sam asked, and it was almost too quiet to be heard over the whirring of the hoods that did their best to remove the stench of death and purify the air to be pumped back into the room.

“A cranial inspection revealed swelling of the brain. But why she reacted by pulling out her hair,” Jessica shrugged. “Normally people are too sick to react to what swelling of this size would feel like. But, it kind of seems like she was trying to relieve herself from the pressure.”

[Seniorstatus14]

Sam managed a smile and then coughed. He wasn’t going to say anything, but he really liked it when Dean had the chance to be happy, even if it was just because of food, the city or a song on the radio. Usually he could ignore it, but sometimes thinking about how much Dean had always sacrificed for him and their family was a tad overwhelming.

Awww Sammy So cute!

Great update!! Can't wait for you to continue! Sick Sam is my weakness

[SexualOddity]

This is fabulous! I love the details about the bodies, you're really thorough, and the medical-speak really adds to the credibility. But I love that alongside all that you've got those little humourous elements - she jokingly suggests it could be a vampire - LOVE it. The boys' dialogue is great as well and I love your sneeze spellings. Very intrigued by the case and looking forward to reading more.

[Always-a-Ginger]

Love the case they are working - it got me thinking.

[Emily]

OMG I'M VERY MUCH INTO THIS

I especially love the sciencey bits! It sounds so legit, and I'm a nerd too. The idea of Sam being too sick to think clearly is makin' me all fuzzy. You're so good at these behind the scenes forensics stuff! Makes the whole thing feel very mission-esque! I CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE

CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST LEFT US LIKE THAT WITHOUT A WARNING I KEPT SCROLLING AND SUDDENLY BAM COMMENTS

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

O_O Oh my... ... ... this is just brilliant. I can't wait for more!

[spirkestielgirl87]

Wow I love how spot on you write the characters! I especially like how Sam thinks he's getting away with hiding it and Dean is just like really little bro you thought I wouldn't notice? Lol This part is my favorite:

Sam cleared his throat. “Thanks.” So far, it seemed like a ‘normal’ ‘bless you’, if that made sense. Just an ordinary ‘bless you’ to an ordinary sneeze. And because ordinary was his intention, he asked, “What else can you tell me about the case? I mean, why would something that happened down in New Orleans make the news in Ohio?”

“I didn’t say I found the case in the paper, Sammy,” Dean said. The sleeping in late, the sniffles, the talking quietly and less often; Dean wasn’t born yesterday, and neither was Sam. Dean knew Sam probably better than anyone, and this Sam was leaning very near sick-and-hiding-it Sam.

I'm also really enjoying the plot, it's so detailed I would like it even without the sick Sam! I can't wait to read more

[LeadaAlexys52]

Ah sick Winchester's. My favorite, and you do it so well. It's hard to believe this is your first. Welcome to the club!

I love your characterizations and the detailed case you have going here. I'm very interested to see where it goes, and how Sam being sick will affect the progress.

Eagerly awaiting more!

[Zwee]

This is so good I'm literally at a loss for words. I was making mental notes on things to comment on but my mind is just blown...

I'll try my best:

I love that Dean actually feels guilty for not letting Sam know he's on to him. Like, it's Sam's own damn fault that he's pretending to be fine, but Dean knows him so well that he knows he's not going to admit it and feels bad that he has to hide it, and that's adorable and totally relatable.

Sleeeeeepy Sammy=most adorable thing ever.

I am totally in agreement with Sam about the stuffy nose thing. They are the worst. (Although I admit when one of them on the show gets one, I get pretty excited. They're cute-sounding sometimes, even if they're miserable.)

Also, um, genius excuse to come with, there, Sam!! A stuffy nose makes a morgue WAY more bearable. (And I'm speaking from my experience with cadaver labs here. Ugh. Tide soap.)

Awwww, poor Sammy is miserable!! And cute. And the brother dynamic could not be better. Seriously.

I like Jessica! And I like their cute banter about vampires.

And I like the medical talk. It's so SO realistic.

This whole story reads like I'm watching the show and I just LOVE it.

So thank you.<3 Can't wait for the rest.

[Nola]

Oh my gosh, you guys are just so sweet! I have the rest of the plot in mind, so I hope an update will manifest itself very soon! But, in the mean time, I want to thank each one of you separately!

Seniorstatus14: I'm with you on sick!Sam....his vulnerability and puppy dog eyes are just too sweet to pass up! Thank you so much for reading!

SexualOddity: Oh my gosh, thank you! A very sweet comment...I still am amazed when people think I'm funny (and so glad you like the spellings, it's something I'm always hesitant about!) Thanks for reading!

Always-A-Ginger: Yay! I thought and stressed about the case for such a long time (and still don't have all the kinks out)! I'm glad you like it so far!

Emily: Nerd Love!! And I'm sooo glad you like the forensics, behind-the-scene mission-esque stuff, because I'm not sure I could leave that out if you didn't! And sorry, sorry for just leaving it at a cliffhanger! And one more thing: thanks for always supporting my work!

fang815: Thank you! And brilliant? D'aww....Thanks so much for reading!

sneezegirl87: Thank you for your detailed comment! I'm so so happy you would like it even without the sick!Sam....just makes me feel like I've done something more than get everyone's motors going. And I totally agree with Sam thinking he's getting away with it and Dean knowing all along, it's just a tres cute scenario!

Alexys52: Aww, thanks for the welcome! It's certainly a cool club to belong to! I'm glad you like the case, as I said above, it took me awhile to think of one! Thanks so much for reading!

Zwee: OhmyGod, ohmyGod, THANK YOU! Allow me to comment on your mental notes:

I love guilty Dean! Like soo much! And yes, it is Sam's fault, but it's Sam...gah! just cuteness...

Stuffy nose thing: that was all Sen's idea!

So so cool that you work in a cadaver lab! (And also cool that you didn't say something along the lines of: Uh, Nola, you're waaaay off base here, heh heh)

Always love brother dynamics....favorite thing ever.

I like Jessica too! (and Anna Paquin's Sookie, haha)

Aww, I'm glad the medical speak sounds realistic....I'm an official science nerd, so I can hardly help myself in trying to make it sound as real as possible!

'feels like you're watching the show'?? *faints*

Thank you for taking the time to respond with so much lovely detail!

--------------------------

Okay, promise I'll be back soon with an update! But I just had to show my appreciation before it seemed stale! Thanks guys!

[HPG]

More more more, please!

[Nola]

More more more, please!

Here you are, HPG.

A/N: Alright, this entry is a tad shorter than the other parts, sorry about that. Hopefully, it's not left at a cliffhanger...for some reason I have no idea when or if I'm stopping at a good place or not, because well, I wrote it. Anyways, thank you all so much for the support, the very nice comments, and the shared loved of the Winchesters! Without further ado, here is Part 3....

The closest library to the New Orleans Coroner’s Office was the New Orleans Public Library on Loyola, and so, that was where they went. The walk from the car to the front steps was enough for sweat to accumulate in between their shoulder blades, and so, they removed their ‘Brooks Brothers style’ FBI jackets as soon as they got to a table inside the library.

Dean, always in charge, said, “I’ll look for possible suspects. You look at the Devareaux family. They would’ve had to do something to cause all the attention they’re getting now.”

Sam nodded, but made no move towards opening his laptop. Instead, he buried half his face into the crook of his arm and tried to quiet the inevitable sneeze. “Huh-Hp’Choo! Huh-EgShoo!”

“Bless you,” Dean said quietly and reached out to lightly slap his brother’s arm to make light of Sam’s obvious embarrassment.

Sam sniffled and sort of nodded a ‘thanks’ and then went about the task of figuring out who the Devareaux’s people were. Dean used a nearby desk top to search through lore, focusing on voodoo and hoodoo because of the locale, but kept more of an eye on Sam than he did anything written of priestesses who had mastered the realms of payback, grudges and sweet revenge.

After nearly an hour, Sam hit pay dirt – or he hoped so, anyways, because his head was throbbing and he was damn tired of being the loudest patron in the library. “Look at this,” he said, and Dean slid the chair over to the table where Sam was set up.

Sam read the small byline with his scratchy voice: “Devareaux-Mascarpone wedding delayed due to family tragedy.”

“Maybe she can help us out.”

--------------------------------------

Sam had never handled heat very well, and had rolled up the sleeves of his button up when they entered the library. However, the air conditioning had brought on a set of nasty shivers, which were now replaced by the sweats as they reentered the humidity. Dean noticed his brother’s discomfort as Sam went about shoving up his sleeves yet again. “You okay?”

“It’s just hot,” Sam replied.

“I can handle the interview alone. You should head back and get some rest.”

Dean was the outright gruff one, but Sam, when angry, could really simmer. He sent Dean that ‘I can’t believe you just said that to me’ look and said, “For Chrissakes, Dean, it’s just a cold. I can still do the job.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Sammy,” Dean answered, patiently.

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face after rolling down the window of the Impala. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled an apology. “I just –”

Dean cut him off to save him what pride he had left. “It’s cool.” Then, with a little smirk, he said, “Bitch.”

Sam found himself smiling as he replied, “Jerk.” Then pointing to a side street, he said, “The soon-to-be-bride’s place is right down there.” Ms. Monica Devareaux owned a dance studio by the name of Devareaux’s Dance.

They entered a scene that looked like a set-up for a high school prom in the bayou. Michael Bolton’s rendition of The Very Thought Of You floated out of the speakers and enveloped the boys and the dance floor glittered with dim lights as if lightning bugs were flying around. There were tall beams and poles set up draped in some fabric that resembled silver moss and off to the side was a real wood pirogue filled with boxes of probably more decorations.

A woman as pretty as the song playing swayed rhythmically near the only other occupants – a couple who were dancing. She spoke to them in a voice that seemed to fit right in with the soft trumpet in the song; it demanded attention but not because it was over-the-top, but because it was striking. “If you can’t feel it, you’ll never dance. Mr. Bolton is leaving his heart right out in the open for you. What are you going to do with it?”

Dean nudged Sam and waggled his eyebrows. “Her, Sookie Stackhouse, a shower. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sam gave him that half-exasperated and half-amused look he had mastered years ago. And then he cleared his throat, partly to draw attention to themselves, but mostly because he had to anyways to hold off a coughing fit.

Ms. Devareaux turned and took in the official appearance in one easy glance. “I’ll be with you in one moment,” she said. “But in the meantime, enjoy the show.” She knew what this was about – with the horrid events that had taken place lately, who wouldn’t have? However, her business was her livelihood and so she wasn’t going to scrimp out on a lesson just because someone was ready to make her rehash the deaths of her loved ones.

Dean and Sam shot each other a ‘well, what other choice do we have?’ look and got comfortable on a couple of chairs to watch the rest of her lesson. After twenty minutes, the couple left and Ms. Devareaux came over to them, ready to get down to business.

Dean once again introduced himself as Agent Wayne and Sam as Agent Drake, and she, obviously not a fan of Batman, simply extended a hand gracefully and shook theirs with a firmness that spoke of an inner strength. “Call me Monica.”

“Monica it is,” Dean replied, with a small, charmed smile.

To Sam it looked as if Dean might ask her out on a date instead of asking her about the case and so he stepped forward and said, “Monica, we’re very sorry for your loss. And we know this is difficult, but it’d really help us if you could tell us everything you remember about your family members in the days before they died.”

Monica nodded and said, “Of course, Agent Drake. But, I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you.”

“You’d be surprised the things we believe,” Dean replied.

Sam nodded in agreement and pressed the knuckle of his index finger against the side of his nose, fending off an imminent sneeze.

Monica seemed restless in her own space, and began pacing in her flowing manner. “I thought, at first, my uncle was sick. Or at least becoming that way. Like a stroke or some other kind of memory impairment.”

Sam thought about Mr. Devareaux’s body, exsanguinated; the loss of blood possibly through the eyes. What did that have to do with a stroke? “Why did you think that?” His breath faltered at his last word, and he turned away from his brother and Monica to sneeze. “H’EgShoo!” He sniffled, and added an embarrassed ‘excuse me’.

Monica blessed him and Dean gave him the ‘one more of those and I’ll drag you outta here’ looks. Then, she said, “He was remembering a lot of fuzzy details from his past in the two days before he died. Bits and pieces of things from my childhood that I couldn’t place.”

“Did he see a doctor?” Dean asked.

“No, it wasn’t until after he died that I even thought there was a possibility he was sick. And then my Aunt Eileen died the next day. By the time my Aunt Angela died I was sure no one had been sick at all.”

“So, what do you think happened to them now?” Sam asked her. Something in her tone indicated she knew it wasn’t exactly cut-and-dry homicide either.

She steadied her dark eyes on Sam’s and said, “My family has to be cursed.”

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

This just keeps getting better and better.

[HPG]

Here you are, HPG.

You're the best! I can't wait for the next part!

[Nola]

A.N./ Sorry it's been so long I promise I'm not abandoning this! This next part is kind of short, but I needed to post it for y'all so you know my intentions are true! Thanks for being patient with me! And so, on to Part 4....

They left Monica Devareaux with mixed feelings and the keys to the houses of the deceased. They had instructed her to call if she remembered anything – or anyone – that might give them more insight into the curse on her family.

“The plus side is,” Dean started as he unlocked the door to Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Devareaux’s house, “that she already believes something honky is going on. We find anything of that variety and she might be able to tell us more about it. Whatever the hell we’re looking for.”

“You know,” Sam said, and he was about to nerd out, Dean knew, “The voodoo gris-gris is similar to a hex bag, though gris-gris is usually used as a charm to ward off evil.”

“Yeah, looks like it backfired.” Dean made his way upstairs to the master bedroom, because other than the kitchen, where else did the two spend most of their time?

Sam followed behind, coughing intermittently. Dean said nothing but noted the harshness of it though it was still contained in his throat and hadn’t yet traveled to his chest – always a good sign. “Alright,” he said, “let’s see what we can see.”

Time wasn’t of the essence here, and that, at least, was a welcome feeling. It felt good to be able to search a house methodically and patiently, instead of haphazardly because they were once again up on the chopping block. For fifteen minutes, the only sounds was opening and shutting cabinets, the whine of old furniture moving – and Sam. But Dean paid the coughs, sneezes, throat clearings and sniffles no mind, because they were, for the time being, normal. However, when he heard a sound that was closer to a gasped disgust, he popped up his head quickly.

“Sammy?” he questioned.

Sam was staring at an object on the floor and Dean came over to join him. A hex bag, with it’s gruesome contents spilled, stared back. Quite literally, too, since among the clump of hair, the broken crucifix and a little herb packet was an eye.

“I never heard of using an eye in a hex bag,” Sam said.

“Blood of a toad, an eye of a newt,” Dean said, in a scratchy old lady voice. “Pretty common.”

Sam crouched down and with an unused tissue he had in his pocket, he put the items back into the bag. “Too big for a newt.”

“So, you think we’re looking for a one-eyed witch?”

Sam shrugged. “I think,” he paused and turned against his arm, “H’EgShoo!” He sniffled, and continued, “Ugh. I think we’re looking at what killed Mr. Devareaux. He bled from his eyes.”

“If we find another bag with mutilated lips in it, I’m gone,” Dean replied, as he put together the rest of the bag’s contents. The hair and herbs were normal, but the broken crucifix, what significance did that have? “You think it means ‘See no evil’?”

“Or Mr. Devareaux is being punished for something he saw or didn’t see,” Sam replied, catching up to Dean’s logic. “Which would mean Mrs. Devareaux said something she shouldn’t have?”

“And Mrs. Bufont – what? – thought something she shouldn’t have?”

Sam shrugged again. “It makes sense. They’re being punished for something someone perceives as evil.”

“But we found nothing in their past that would indicate something bad happened.”

“So, whatever it is, is very personal. And might be insignificant to everyone else.”

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Ohhhhh mysterious update!

Love it!