A Rude Awakening (SPN, Dean)

September 21, 2014

This is written for tarotgal's comment fic meme. I went and filled my own prompt for this one, although the story isn't following the original prompt very much at this point, so here's a summary instead:

Dean is placed under a sleeping spell during a witch hunt, and Sam brings him to a retired hunter named Davis to have the spell reversed. Unfortunately for Dean, Davis' defunct medical clinic is now the living quarters of Davis' wife's cats.

I'll be posting this in several parts. It is a WIP, but it's about 3/4ths finished at this point, so hopefully updates will be timely. Sorry there's no sneezing in the first part, but I promise there will be plenty to come

A Rude Awakening

Davis woke out of a light sleep to the sound of his phone vibrating next to his ear on his nightstand. Grunting, he squinted at the phone and tried to focus his blurry eyes on the display screen, until one word finally came into focus : Singer.

"Christ, not again." Davis flipped his phone open and coughed a couple times into the receiver. "This better be good, Bobby. "

"Nice to hear from you too, Davis. A pleasure, as always. Now, I got a favor to ask of you, and don't hang up, dammit. Do you remember that run-in Rufus and I had with that witch coven down in Charleston, 'bout eighteen years or so ago?"

"Singer, if you called me at one o'clock in the morning to reminisce on old times, You can go f- "

"Dammit Davis, just shuddup and listen. I got a couple of hunters that had a run in with a witch up in Raleigh. Nasty piece of work, this one was. It looks like this witch hails from the same coven as the one Rufus and I wiped out...Or thought we wiped out, I guess." Bobby sighed and cleared his throat. "They ganked her alright, but she hit one of 'em with a sleeping spell before the job was done. Now I can't be certain, but this looks like the same spell Rufus got cursed with during that job back in Charleston. I need to know if you have the ingredients for the spell reversal you used on him back then."

Davis grunted. "Goddammit, Bobby. What part of 'retired' can't you get through that fat ass skull of yours?"

"Shut yer trap, Davis, I don't got time for your bullshit right now. Do you have the ingredients we'd need for that spell reversal, or dontcha?"

Davis scanned through a mental checklist in his head, and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I've got you covered."

"Good, Davis. That's...That's good."

"Alright Bobby, just give me the address of where that hunter's holed up, and I'll get him what he needs. I can start out in ten minutes."

"Hell, I'll do you one better- I've got him heading over to your clinic as we speak. Should be there within the hour. His partner's gonna be bringing him- his brother, in fact. Just have everything ready by the time they arrive."

Davis sat up straight in his bed. "Now hold on just a goddamn minute, Singer..."

"Davis, you know as well as I do that the reversal will only work within a certain time frame. We don't have time to mess around. They've lost too much time already. And by the way, these ain’t just any hunters, either. They're John Winchester's sons, and they're like family to me. So you'd better get off your ass right now and get your shit together."

Davis ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I'll have the reversal ready. But...I don't even have a decent place to treat the kid, Bobby. I haven't used my clinic in over two years. It's a fucking mess. I've barely got any medical supplies left, not even the basics."

"You got the ingredients for the reversal, that's the important thing. Aside from being unconscious, he's pretty much unharmed, far as I understand. I know yer not the brightest crayon in the box, but I'm sure you can find a place to lay the kid up till he sleeps it off."

"Fuck off, Singer. I'll be in touch." Davis slammed the phone shut and ripped the covers off the bed, huffing. Davis' wife Charlotte stirred next to him and flipped on the lamp light. "What is it, honey?"

"Singer is sending a couple hunters our way. John Winchester's kids, to be exact. One of 'em got hexed, needs a spell reversal. Don't know how I'm gonna do it in that shithole of a room, though. That damn Bobby Singer, I don't know how many times I've told that sonofagun...Goddammit!" Davis nearly fell on his face as he stumbled over one of Charlotte's cats which was sprawled across their floor.

Charlotte climbed out of bed. "Hush, dear. Go on downstairs and get ready. I'll gather the candles, and put some coffee on."

Charlotte's kind, calming demeanor eased Davis' nerves instinctively. He gave her a half-smile and a brisk nod as he exited the bedroom.

Davis descended the narrow, treacherous stairwell which led to the ground floor where his former medical clinic was situated. Davis had ran the small clinic for nearly twenty years, treating many a hunters' injuries and illnesses, after calling it quits on his own hunting career.

But that was then. Davis had been retired for over two years now. He was supposed to be out, dammit. Fucking done with all of it. But every time he thought he was finished, that damn Bobby Singer found a way to pull him back in.

Davis looked grimly around room. The small clinic he used to keep meticulously clean and well stocked was now dusty, cluttered, and unkempt. The few medical supplies he had left were largely out of date. The room now primarily functioned as storage overflow from his own tiny living quarters, and as the home of four of his wife's cats, all of which he detested and gave him even more of an incentive to avoid this fucking room at all costs. His wife, in her advancing age, was turning into a verifiable Cat Lady, having recently converted their living quarters into something of a cat sanctuary. Davis hated the fact, but never had it in him to deny his wife anything she ever asked for.

The cats' living situations were arranged in a hierarchy based on the level of affection his wife held for each one. "Baby" was her favorite cat, and was the only one allowed to sleep in Davis and Charlotte's bed. Two of her other favorites also slept in their room, but on the floor, and two more that she fancied slightly less made their home in their living room. The four that resided in the former clinic were the troublemakers of the group- the ones that hissed, clawed, rowled and scratched shit up, the little vindictive shits that they were. But even at that, the 'outcasts’ were still thoroughly spoiled in a way that Davis knew his wife would have spoiled their own children and grandchildren, if they had any.

As he peered around the room, Davis tried to shut out the horrifying images that were starting to encroach on his thoughts. The things he had seen and done in this room...lives he was unable to save, hunters who had died painful, gruesome deaths on the very table in front of him...it was a chapter of his life that he was constantly trying to wash from his mind, yet always to no avail. As the horrific memory of the very last hunter he had treated in his official career suddenly sprang into his mind, Davis cursed, kicked over a stack of boxes and cradled his head in his hands in anguish.

Davis took several deep, steady breaths. Come on you fucking imbecile. Get your shit together. With shaking hands, Davis fumbled around the small clinic, gathering together the necessary ingredients for the reversal. He turned as the floor creaked behind him, and saw his wife approaching, coffee in hand. "Here you go, dear. I'm going to clear off this cot so the young man has a place to lie down."

Davis nodded in approval, and suddenly there was a loud, brisk knock at the door. Davis peered through the looking hole and worked his way down the door, snapping open the assortment of locks and chains. He opened the door to a very tall, very frantic-appearing young man who greeted him with worried, hopeful eyes. Davis nodded sharply at the young man, and gestured his arm towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked crookedly in front of his door.

"He in the car? Well come on then, let's bring him in."

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September 21, 2014

Oooh I like how this is set up! I can't wait for Dean to come in the next part I like the characters you already have, too.

September 21, 2014

Neeeeed more

September 21, 2014

Oh my GOD I'm excited. I love love your stuff, and this prompt is AMAZING and the way you write Bobby is so perfect and I like Davis already and it's so neat for me to see someone telling someone else about Sam and Dean... I don't know why, but I really like it a lot. Going to be checking this like crazy for an update!!

September 21, 2014

This looks definitely promising. Keep going.

September 21, 2014

Definitely looking forward to the next chapter.

Great set up

September 22, 2014

Thank you for all the awesome feedback! Here is the second part. Hope it satisfies

After hauling the unconscious young man into the clinic, dumping him unceremoniously on the cot, and supplying brief introductions, Davis quickly and efficiently combined the ingredients for the reversal, as Charlotte set up and lit the candles encircling the slumbering young hunter.

Davis looked up at Sam. "I'm sure Bobby told you that I need something off the witch to do the reversal. What've you got?"

Sam reaching into his pocket, then offered his outstretched fist to Davis. He then opened his hand to present what appeared to be a bloodied finger tip, complete with crimson nail polish. Davis raised his eyebrows towards Sam. "That'll work." He grabbed the severed digit off of Sam's hand and tossed it in the bowel with the other ingredients. He glanced back up at Sam with one eyebrow raised. "You know, all you really needed was a piece of her clothing. A snip of her hair would have done it, too."

Sam set his jaw and nodded grimly. "I know."

Ok, then. Davis cleared his throat and prepared to perform the incantation.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Once the ritual was complete, Davis opened up an old rusted folding chair and sat down next to his young patient. Sam was seated next to his brother on the other side of the cot.

After several minutes, Sam finally peeled his eyes off his brother long enough to glance at Davis anxiously. "So, how long will this spell reversal take to work? How will we know if it was done in time?" Sam rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Oh God, if I didn't get him here soon enough..."

Davis felt a pang of empathy for the younger Winchester, but swallowed it back down as quickly as it had emerged. "Relax, kid. I've only had one other run-in with this type of spell personally, but with that case, we completed the reversal within four hours, and saw a full recovery. We got it done with your brother here in just over three hours, so that's promising. I can't make any guarantees, but his chances are looking pretty good."

Sam swallowed and nodded. "So- how long before he starts to come to?"

"Well, he should start waking up any time now. But full recovery time is pretty variable- could be hours, or it could take a couple of days. Even after he wakes up, he'll be in and out of it for awhile, and he'll be extremely drowsy. His short-term memory will be muddled, so you'll need to re-orient him pretty frequently. And...Oh, yeah. He'll probably have some degree of limb paralysis, but it'll be temporary. Should be, anyway."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Davis. "Should be? What the hell does that mean?"

Davis sighed. "I ain't gonna mince words, kid. This witch you boys ran into hails from a particularly malevolent coven. One of the nastiest I've heard of in the last half-century. I can't be sure of exactly what kind of mojo she laid on your brother. But my experience and gut instinct tells me that your brother has a solid chance of coming through this alright. Sorry kid, that's all that I can offer you right now."

Charlotte came over and placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. "Would you like something to drink, sweetie? Some water, or maybe some scotch...?"

Sam shook his head. "Maybe just some water for Dean, for when he comes to. Thank you."

Charlotte nodded and smiled. "There's another small cot over in the far corner, if you want to get some sleep later. Of course, I think only half of you would fit on it", she chuckled. "On second thought, you're welcome to come up to our apartment and sleep on our couch."

Sam shrugged. "I won't be sleeping tonight anyway. But I appreciate the offer."

Just then, Dean moved his head slightly, furrowed his eyebrows, and a low rumble emerged from the back of his throat.

Sam jumped up spastically and knelt by his brother's side. "Dean! Oh God, Dean...Thank goodness. Are you with me, man?"

Dean groaned once again in response. Then to his brother's unbridled relief, he slowly opened his eyes. His eyes were glazed over, hazy and unfocused. But they were open.

Sam tried again. "Hey. How're you feeling, bro?"

Dean licked his lips and grunted hoarsely. He opened his mouth slowly, all in the room waiting patiently for him to speak. Then suddenly he frowned, closed his eyes, and took several slow, choppy breaths.

Sam looked on in concern. "Dude, what is it? Are you hurt?"

Dean said nothing, but continued taking several more staggered breaths. Finally, he took in one more deep inhale, then..."heyeesch-huh." Dean's head lolled forward with a weak sneeze.

Sam smiled in relief and let out a light chuckle. "Bless you, dude. I guess if you're able to sneeze, that must be a good sign, right?"

Dean's eyes remained closed, and his face returned to his previous peaceful, sleepy state for all of seven or eight seconds. Then, the frown returned to his face. His chest began expanding spasmodically once again, until... "hi-hii...heschhhoo." A pause. "eeetchch-huh!" Dean's upper body spasmed with the force of the sneezes, and he slumped over limply in the aftermath.

Sam, Davis and Charlotte waited out the sneezing fit patiently, Sam resting a hand on Dean's shoulder all the while. Once Dean reached his seventh sneeze, Charlotte finally looked up at Davis curiously. "Why is he sneezing like that? Side effect from the reversal?"

Davis shrugged, admittedly mystified. Sam looked down at his feet, where one of the cats was clawing roughly at his boot. Sam kicked it away gently and frowned. "I don't think so. Actually...I'm pretty sure it's your cats that are causing it. He's pretty allergic..."

Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand guiltily. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. Let me just...I'll put them up in the apartment." Charlotte started towards one of the felines and scooped the writhing creature up in her arms.

Sam shrugged uncertainly. "Thanks. I really appreciate that, but...I'm not sure if it'll do that much good, though." He glanced around the room, warily. "This room is...uh, well..."

Davis could tell Sam was trying to figure out a polite way to call the room a filthy, cat dander-infested shithole, so he saved him the trouble. "Sorry, kid. Not a lot of options at this point. Soon as he's awake, alert, and moving his limbs, y'all can move the recovery party elsewhere. Till then, this is the best I can do under the circumstances." Davis hovered over Dean, who was currently passed out again.

Davis tapped Dean's shoulder. "Mr. Winchester, can you open your eyes for me?"

Dean's eyelids fluttered, and he pried his eyes open with what appeared to take a great effort.

"Look at me Dean. I want you to follow my finger with your eyes." Dean's eyes sluggishly tracked Davis' finger towards various points in his peripheral vision. His eyelids starting to droop just several seconds later.

Davis then placed his second and third fingers inside Dean's limp hands. "I want you to squeeze my hands, Dean."

Dean's facial expression suddenly changed from drowsy and confused to a look of full fledged panic. His eyes went wide, and his blurry eyes searched the room frantically. "I can't...my arms. What the hell? Sammy!"

"Hey, I'm right here Dean.' Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. "It's ok dude, you're safe. That bitch put you under some sort of sleeping spell, but Davis here was able to reverse it. You can't move your arms just yet, but it's just temporary, dude."

Dean nodded, his body visibly relaxing once his brother came into view. His head slowly lolled to the side, and his eyes were already drifting shut again.

"Hey, not just yet, kid." Davis looked over towards Sam. "Take his boots off."

Sam set to work unlacing Dean's shoelaces while Davis lightly smacked Dean's cheek. Dean's eyelids fluttered. "huh-k'etchh!" A sudden sneeze burst out of Dean, and Davis had to dart his head to the side to avoid getting sprayed. Davis rolled his eyes and moved to the foot of the cot. He lightly placed his hands on Dean's socked feet. "Wiggle your toes, son."

Dean frowned and grunted, straining his face as if he was working to accomplish a huge undertaking. Davis finally detected a very slight movement from Dean's toes on both sides. Satisfied, Davis turned towards Sam. "I felt some minimal movement in his lower extremities. That's a real good sign. He should continue to gradually regain movement in his arms and legs." Sam smiled and nodded, as a look of relief spread across his face.

"hih..t'iiishh-uh!" Dean, who had nearly dozed off yet again, appeared to have startled himself with a sudden sneeze. He raised his head and gazed around the room, appearing dazed and confused.

Charlotte, who had been bustling around the room with a broom and a feather duster in a vain attempt at making her young guest more comfortable, approached Dean, put her hand on his shoulder, and smiled down on him. 'Can I get you anything, hon?" Are you cold? I can bring you a blanket."

Dean shook his head, wincing. "I'm fine. It's just...my eyes. They're...ugh...really burning. Can't rub 'em." Dean scrunched up his face and started blinking repeatedly, as an allergic tear rolled down his cheek.

Charlotte walked across the room to the tiny kitchenette area, and re-emerged with a dampened washcloth. "Here sweetheart, I'm going to lay this over your eyes. It'll help."

Charlotte gently brushed away the tear which had stagnated on Dean's cheek, then pressed the warm washcloth into the crevices of Dean's eyes. Sam cringed a little, as he thought about the cat dander that was probably embedded in the washcloth, but when Dean responded to Charlotte's ministration with a low groan and a deep, satisfied sigh, he smiled in approval.

Sam scratched his head and tuned towards Davis. "Um... Do you have any allergy medicine or something you can give him? I really don't mean to complain, but he's just so sensitive to cat dander- he's going to be really uncomfortable in here. And he's about to start breaking out in hives." Sam's eyes traveled down to his brother's wrists, which Davis had also noticed were turning a bright pink color.

Davis shook his head regretfully. "Sorry kid, I don't keep much in the way of modern pharmaceuticals anymore. All I have on hand is benadryl, and we can't give him anything that'll make him drowsy until we he's much more alert. He ever have any asthma-related issues with his cat allergy?"

Sam shook his head. "Not that I know of, no."

"He'll live, then." Davis glanced over to the cot on the other side of the room. "I'm gonna go grab a quick nap. I'm too fucking old to be pulling this all-nighter crap anymore. You just keep an eye on him, and keep waking him up every fifteen minutes or so. Encourage him to try and move his arms and legs every so often. And don't wake me up unless his lungs stop moving air."

Davis wordlessly shuffled across the room and collapsed bonelessly on the cot. What a fucking night. Damn you to hell, Bobby Singer.

September 22, 2014

Dean Dean Dean~ *sing-a-long*

The beauty of allergies, Dean's is just delicious

September 22, 2014

Loving it

September 22, 2014

Great job!!! I hope you do more!

September 22, 2014

Damn you to hell Bobby Singer! This is so good! Just like I knew it would be! And I loooove how acquainted Sam is with Dean's cat allergy, and that thing with the washcloth! So so so so lovely.

September 23, 2014

Thank you again for the nice comments! It made me get this next part up faster Here it is...

Davis uncomfortably curled in on himself on the tiny cot, determined to get about an hour or so of crappy sleep before re-examining his patient. He was feeling particularly crabby and irritable from the lack of sleep, and that was saying a lot for him. He listened contently to the sweet sound of his wife's voice as she bid the two hunters good night, and he took in the sound of the stairs creaking as she made her way up to their apartment.

Just as Davis was starting to doze off, a loud sneeze rang out from across the room. Davis turned over on his stomach and started to drift off again, then jerked awake as another sneeze rang out. Then, there was another sneeze....And then yet another. When the sneezing didn't stop, Davis punched his pillow with his fist and cursed underneath his breath. There was no way he was going to get any sleep with the constant mini-explosions that were erupting from the semi-conscious young hunter, and this didn't sound like a fit that was going to end anytime soon.

"hi-hi-hi---eschheww................hi-hi--eyeshhhew!...................hi-hi-hi--heyeeshhhuh!............hi--ESHHhhhah!........hihihi..."

Davis listened for several minutes to the wearisome, relentless sneezing that continued on and on, like a fucking rhythmic loop. Davis' exasperation at his interrupted sleep gradually melted into sympathy for the suffering young hunter. He shook his head and sighed. Sheesh. Poor kid. This reaction was becoming a bit more severe than Davis had anticipated. Unfortunately, there was literally nowhere else to lay him up. Davis' living quarters would be somewhat less dander infested, but there was no way he and Sam would be able to wrestle Dean's dead weight up the narrow, twisting stairwell to his apartment.

At least for the time being, Dean was too out of it to actually realize he was in the throes of a massive allergy attack. In fact, Davis was certain that the reaction was bothering Dean's brother infinitely more than Dean himself. In the midst of the sneezing, Davis would every so often overhear the calming voice of the younger brother. "S'ok Dean, you'll be alright. I know this fucking sucks....Bless you. Holy crap, dude. We'll get you out of here as soon as we can. You just gotta wake up some more for me..."

Davis finally gave up on any further efforts towards attempting sleep. He climbed stiffly off of the cot and made his way towards the somnolent, sneezy Winchester, wincing as he took in his current condition. Dean's eyes were damp, red-rimmed, and swollen, and the pink rash on his wrists had now blossomed into angry clusters of hives which were starting to spreading up his arms. Davis tried not to notice the clear trickle that was slowly seeping out of Dean's left nostril. Davis stood aside and looked on as Sam gently placed some tissues in Dean's hand, then tapped firmly at his cheek. "Hey man...you need to blow your nose. Come on. Lift your arm, Dean."

Dean opened his eyes and made a throaty grunting noise, then snapped his head forward with a "c'esh!" which sounded more like a cough than a sneeze, or maybe it was a combination of the two. Sam sighed and took the tissues back from Dean's hand, and held them underneath his brother's red, twitching nose. "C'mon dude. Blow. You need to get some of that dander out of your nose, or you're just gonna keep sneezing like that. Come on, Dean."

Dean's swollen eyes opened to slits, and he appeared to make concentrated effort to take in a deep breath, in preparation for the blow. But the attempt was interrupted, as his jaw dropped, his head lolled backward, and he let out a soft, weary sneeze that was muffled deeply into the kleenex. Suddenly, Dean let out a sharp gasp, and four more sneezes burst out of him in rapid fire succession, causing Dean's upper body to convulse haphazardly, his face jerking hard into Sam's tissue-filled hand. After the startling fit passed, Sam helped Dean sink back into the cot, his head nestled into Sam's forearm. Once Sam had gently laid Dean's head back into the pillow, he was already snoring lightly.

Sam grimaced a little, then lightly dabbed at his brother's moist nose, apparently giving up on the whole nose blowing idea for the time being. When he glanced up and saw Davis staring at them, he glared back, obviously put off by the outsider watching his brother suffer such an indignity. "What're you looking at?"

Davis raised his hands up. "Jesus, kid. A bit touchy, aren't we?"

Sam lowered his eyes. "Yeah...sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just..." Sam glanced over at his brother. "I can't stand seeing him all, you know...helpless like this. It's just...this isn't him, you know? Don't get me wrong. I know he'll be back to his old, pain-in-the-ass self before too long. It's just..." Sam shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I get it." Davis gazed down at Dean, arms crossed at his chest, as a wistful, despairing look crossed his eyes. "It's like the foundation is crumbling beneath your feet, and you can't find your footing, because the one thing you've trusted in and depended on your whole life is slipping out of your reach, and you're just left standing there, helpless, watching as your world starts careening out of control until it's spinning off it's fucking axis, and then you're just...lost."

A deafening silence filled the room, as Sam stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed at Davis. Finally, Sam slowly shook his head and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's...that's pretty much it."

Davis' eyes squeezed shut, then suddenly widened at Sam, as if he had just remembered that he was in the room. He narrowed his eyes and grumbled as he maneuvered his way past Sam towards the elder Winchester. "I'm gonna assess your brother to see how his limb movement is progressing. Then I'm going to try and get some goddamn sleep, in my own bed this time around. M'never going to get any shut eye down here with all that damn racket he's making."

It will probably be a few days before I get the last part up, but it is coming

September 23, 2014

oops, sorry to strain your eyes. Not sure why the text came out so small

September 23, 2014

Dean-o! I'm just loving this till no end.

He's just all allergic and sneezy and Omph!

September 24, 2014

Oh man!! I love the way you paint Sam here, he's so gentle and concerned but at the same time really wrung out and tired, and we have all seen him in that state and you portray it perfectly. PLUS, oh my god, Dean is just sooooo allergic to cats and his body is reacting like crazy and he doesn't even know it!!! So cute and he's going to feel like hell when he really wake up. And I still really love the narration by Davis, too -- such a good character!

September 29, 2014

Ok, here is the final part...

Davis scaled the stairs to his apartment, his arthritic knees popping in protest of the abuse they had suffered over the course of the night. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that had precipitated the nonsensical verbal diarrhea he had just spouted out, but he knew he couldn't remain in that damn clinic for a minute longer. He set his brain to the task of stifling the flashbacks that kept flooding into the forefront of his memory, and mentally cursed Bobby Singer's name for the umpteenth time that night.

Davis opened the door to his room and was greeted with a claw grabbing at his pants leg, and the distinct smell of cat piss. Apparently, his wife had deemed their bedroom as the ideal place to temporarily house the cats from the clinic. He sneered as he watched one of the cats clawing happily at their window drapes, a project it had apparently been working on for quite some time, judging by the drapes' now-mangled appearance. Davis shook his head in defeat and sunk into the bed, not even bothering to take his boots off. The first thing he would do when he woke up would be to toss those little fuckers back down the stairs. That damn Winchester kid could sneeze himself to death for all he cared right now.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

With his elusive hour of shuteye finally obtained, Davis reluctantly made his way back down to the clinic. It was only because of Charlotte's pleading that he postponed the cats' banishment from their apartment until after their guests were to leave. As he approached the Winchesters, he found Sam hunched over in his chair snoring lightly, his head tucked snugly into Dean's rib cage, with one arm dangling towards the floor. As he came closer, he was surprised to notice that Dean's eyes were open. He appeared groggy and dazed, but was vastly more alert than he had been since his arrival. Dean laid quietly and still next to his brother, looking down at Sam with a content, peaceful, gaze.

This unexpected moment caught Davis offguard, and his heart suddenly quivered, then began to ache desperately. Before his brain could even begin to process his body's reaction to the scene before him, he felt the sting of tears welling up in his weary eyes. Christ almighty, What the hell was his problem today?

Just as Davis was feeling the urge to retreat back upstairs again, he noticed Dean starting to twitch his nose and crumple his face. Realizing the brotherly moment was about to become short-lived, he waited as Dean slowly reared his head back several times, then snapped foreward with an enormous sneeze. The sudden noise startled Sam out of his sleep, and he nearly tipped over in his chair with the sudden movement.

Davis took this as a cue to announce his presence. "Well, well. Look who's finally decided to re-join the land of the living."

Dean looked up at Davis with confused, red rimmed eyes. "Who the...the...hu'rrESSHSHooo! sniff. Who the hell are you?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dean had regained more movement in his legs, although not enough to attempt to walk quite yet. He also finally recovered some motility in his fingers as well, although his arms were still dead weight. Davis determined that as soon as Dean's legs were able to carry him out the door, he would be out of the woods enough to safely leave Davis' care. Under normal circumstances, Davis would have insisted that the young hunter stay until he regained full recovery of his limb movement. But the more alert Dean was becoming, the more attuned he was to the fact that his body was fiercely protesting his extended stay in the dander-filled room. He continued to suffer from long, incessant fits of sneezing, and the hives had progressed to one of the worst cases that Davis had ever seen in response to an animal allergy. Every exposed area of Dean's body, save for his face, was now covered in blotchy, maroon welts, and even Davis had to stop himself from overreacting at the sight. And as much as he wanted to give the young hunter some relief, he knew it was still too early to give him any antihistamines just yet. Charlotte tended to the young hunter the best she could, draping warm washcloths over his arms and around his neck, and furnishing Sam with an endless supply of tissues with which to tend to his brother's needs.

Charlotte fixed the boys breakfast later that morning, and despite Dean's insistence that there was no way in hell he was going to eat until he could feed his own damn self, he caved in and agreed to let Sam assist him when he caught sight and smell of the bacon, eggs and hashbrowns that adorned his plate. Sam had only gotten several bites of food into his brother, when Dean started twiching and contorting his nose and upper lip. When Sam offered him another bite, Dean shook his head fiercely, and looked up at Sam with watery eyes. "Sam, can you....uh... ugh, god..."

Sam looked on at his brother warily. Hours of taking care of his brother's bodily functions were visibly starting to wear on him. And the more alert Dean was becoming, the more difficult he was becoming to take care of.

Dean coughed lightly, and shook his head again. "Shit...My nose, dude. It...ugh, itches so damn bad, I..hhhii...I can't... Dean grimiced and turned his head away from his brother, sneezing into his shoulder. "HITTCHHhew....IISSHhew!" Dean turned back towards Sam, nose twitching furiously, and tried again. "Sab, you got...gotta....hunh..." His face crumpling, Dean turned his head away and sneezed desperately into his shoulder several times more. kuh'IISHHHuh! huh...iissh--iiisshh--EESHhhew!" This time when he turned back towards his brother, an allergic tear was trickling down his cheeck. He looked at Sam and sniffed pathetically. "Dude, please, you godda, like...scradch by dose or sobething. I..guh...hiii... I cadn't...."

Davis chewed away at his eggs and watched in guilty amusement, as Sam sighed, put the plate of food down and pulled a wad of tissues out from his chest pocket. He then awkwardly started rubbing the tissues underneath Dean's inflamed nostrils. Dean jerked his head back and gasped.

"hii!..No, dabbit! Not li...hnnh......like that...huh-EEEEETCHHAH! heh'KITCHhhah...hu'ETCHHHhuh....hurETCHHCHuh!"

Sam flinched. "Shit. I'm sorry, man. I don't get how you want me to do this."

"I duddo... snifff. Rub, like, the side of by dose. But kinda hard. Dod't tickle it."

"Dude, you need to work on moving your arms some more. This is getting old. And it's kinda gross."

"Well, Id's dot by fault you cad't follow simble instructions."

"Well, It's not my fault that that stupid nose of yours has to be massaged at just the right pressure in order to appease your delicate nasal passages."

"Call be delicate agaid, bitch. Sood as I cad walk, I'b godda put a boot up your aaa...huh....ass.... huh-IXTCHHHchu'ah!"

"Bless you," Sam murmured. "I didn't catch a word of that, Dean. Just shut up and blow your damn nose."

"You....sniff... you shud up." Dean laid his head back on the cot and moaned. "Christ Sab, you godda get be out of here. I'b freakig dyig here, dude."

"You're not dying." Sam glanced up at Davis apologetically. "Don't say that again, you big jerk."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

An hour later, Dean sloppily drug his feet towards the Impala, with his arms draped around Sam and Davis, as they flanked him on his way to the car. Charlotte followed behind them with a supply of antihistamines for Dean to take later, a box of tissues, and several slices of cherry pie wrapped up in tin foil. and The exertion from the trek from the clinic to the car completely wiped out the young hunter, and by the time Sam assisted him in arranging his body comfortably in the back seat, Dean was already nodding off again.

Sam looked at Davis in concern. "Are you sure he'll be alright? He's pretty out of it again."

"That's to be expected at this point, son. His recovery is progressing as I had anticipated, more or less. Just give it another day, two at most. If he isn't staying awake and alert by that time, or if he doesn't have his normal strength in his arms and legs by then, give me a call."

"Yes sir, I will. Well..." Sam held his hand out towards Davis and looked him in the eye earnestly. "I really don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for us And I hope...Well, what I mean is..." Sam fumbled on his words. "I really do wish you all the best."

Davis accepted Sam's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Right back at you, kid. You boys be sure to take care of each other. And I don't ever want to see either of you in my clinic again, understand?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, sir."

Davis gave Sam a crooked smile, a quick nod of his head, and headed back into the clinic.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sam was about an hour out from Davis' house when his phone rang.

"Hey Bobby. We're on the road, heading towards your place right now."

"Glad to hear it boy. Got your little problem all worked out?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. Dean's going to need a couple of days to recuperate, though."

"Boy, don't I know it. When my old partner Rufus got hit with that damn spell, it knocked him on his ass so hard, he didn't know if he was coming or going for a week. You know you boys are welcome to stay here as long as you need to."

"Thanks a lot Bobby. Hey..." Sam hesitated for a moment. "Bobby, I was just wondering...What's the deal with this Davis guy?"

"That ornery old goat? Whadd'ya talking about?"

"You know what I mean, Bobby. I just want to know...What's his story?"

Bobby sighed. "Well, I'll begin at the beginning, I guess. I'm sure you've already gathered that Davis was a hunter, back in the day. He got into the gig as a young man- a couple of years older than you, I suppose. He was in his last year of medical school, and just got himself engaged to that wife of his. Right around that time, his younger sister was killed by a werewolf. It all happened right in front of Glenn, their older brother. Glenn was pretty messed up, but managed to make it through the attack without being killed or turned."

Sam shook his head. "Wow."

"So, Davis quit medical school just a few months before he graduated. He and Glenn teamed up, started hunting together. Worked together for about twenty years or so, and damn good hunters they were, too. Could always count on them to have your back."

"At any rate, I was still fairly new to the gig when Davis retired. His wife came down with cancer, so he settled down to take care of her. She was really in a bad way. Didn't look like she'd make it there for awhile. But she recovered eventually, and when she did, Davis gave up the life to settle down with her for good. He opened up that clinic of his, kept it open for nearly twenty years . Almost every hunter I know has passed through that clinic at least once in their lifetime. He treated all manner of illnesses and injuries, supernatural and otherwise. Saved a lot of good people. Matter of fact, your daddy took you to see Davis when you were no more than three years old. You had yourself a nasty bought of whooping cough. Had your daddy scared out of his wits."

Sam's eyes widened. "Really? He didn't tell me that!"

"Well, that doesn't surprise me. Ole Davis never was much of a conversationalist. But I gurantee he remembered you, all right."

"he'pshwwwh! ey'eeecchhahh! he'ESCHHooo!" Sam about jumped out of his skin as a sudden explosive sneezing fit from the back seat of the car startled him from his train of thought.

"What the holy hell was that?"

"It's just Dean, Bobby. Hold on a sec." Sam lowered the phone and glanced to the back seat, where his big brother was starting to stir. "You doing ok back there?"

"Mmmph. What the...he'ptchhew! Fuck. Where the hell are we, Sam?"

"Everything's fine, dude. We're on our way to Bobby's. Go back to sleep. Here, blow your nose, first." Sam grabbed the tissue box from the passenger seat and tossed it onto Dean's lap.

Dean laboriously lifted his weakened arm, and was able to pull several tissues from the box and bring them to his face in time to muffle two more strong sneezes. Dean frowned drowsily. "Ugh, God. Why does it feel like there's a fucking cat back here with me?"

"Cause you just spent an entire night in a room full of cats, man. I'll explain later, dude, but I'm talking to Bobby right now. Just go back to sleep for me," Sam pleaded again, then brought the phone back up to his ear. "Sorry Bobby."

"Sounds like Sleeping Beauty's gonna live to see another day."

Sam rolled his eyes. "More like Sneezing Beauty, actually. But yeah, he's gonna be fine. His memory's still all fucked up though, and he doesn't seem to remember a damn thing from last night. Which probably good, cause he was fucking miserable over at the clinic. He was sneezing his freaking face off the whole time, he's still covered in hives, and...well, he looks like shit, really. And Davis says I shouldn't give him any antihistamines until he can stay awake for at least a couple hours without passing out. I wish you would have told me you were sending him into a room full of fucking cats, Bobby."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that? And besides, what would you have done anyway, let your brother drift into eternal dreamland so he could avoid a few sniffles?"

"Of course not. Jesus, Bobby." The line went silent for a moment. "Hey Bobby...whatever happened to Davis' brother?"

There was a pause over the phone, and a sigh. "He passed about two and half years back. Wasn't anything supernatural that did it, either. Car accident. Glenn's best friend Bill brought him to Davis' clinic to get patched up. He only had some scrapes and bruises, and what Davis thought was a minor concussion. Glenn started seizing on the table while Davis was stitching up his leg, and...well, he never woke up. Turned out he had a bleed in his brain that Davis wasn't able to detect."

Sam felt his heart sink in his chest, as Bobby's story confirmed the vague suspicions that Sam had about the broken old man who had just saved his brother's life. He glanced back at Dean in the back seat, and took in a long, labored sigh.

"Ole Davis closed up his clinic the next day. They were real close, those two. Sometimes looking at you and your brother makes me think of....well, anyway. If it wasn't for that kindly wife of his, there's no doubt in my mind that Davis would be dead right now. Not sure what I'd have done to get you boys out of this mess without him, either. Well, anyway... Lemme get off this damn phone so I can get some actual work done before you boys get here. I'm supposed to be researching a vengeful spirit case down in Birmingham. Couldn't get a damn thing done worrying about you two idjits last night."

"Sure, Bobby. Thanks a lot. We really owe you for this one." And Davis, Sam thought to himself. And Charlotte.

Sam snapped his phone shut, turned to check on his sleeping brother one more time, then continued to drive in the direction of Bobby's house in silence, save for the congested snoring from the back seat of the Impala.

The end

September 29, 2014