Daddy's Little Soldier (SPN) - Dean

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Sammy don got sick!!!!!! *evil laughter*

More more more more!!!! You can't stop now! Well I suppose you could with that perfect ending. But NOOO Please continue!!! *continues to babble*

Haha! Thank you so much for reading and commenting after every post I put up! definitely makes it worth while

I am writing another part but I'm not sure if I should start it as a new thread or not? But don't stress, I'm not done with this story

I would love there to be a sequel to this one Keep us updated!

[NorthernLady]

That was a wonderful story that passed under my radar *shame* Grumpy Sick Dean was deliciously in character and I LOLed a bunch of time.

“Take a picture, Sam... Alright! I get it. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I’m constantly feeling mucus run down the back of my throat, my head is pounding, my eyes feel like they’re gonna pop out of their sockets, and my teeth feel like they’re vibrating! I’m trudging around this tick infested forest, behind your massive ass, and the damn doctor has the nerve to call my sinuses cute! Who says that!?”

Sam tried not to smile, “Acute, Dean.”

Dean paused, “... what?”

“Acute sinusitis... Never mind.”

This made LOL the hardest... I swear to God, my neighbors heard me!

Ten minutes into the journey and Dean’s soft snores filled the car, Sam smiled at him, sniffed and rubbed his nose. His eyes fluttered and he gripped the steering wheel harder.

Hih’sku! He sneezed into his shoulder.

“Aw, crap...”

I though about this a bunch of time all thru the fic... Dean is sneezing all over the place, Sam's gonna get sick.... but I kind of forgot it in the end because this surprised me Delicious surprise.... I support the idea that it should be continuated Next case please!

[MissBayliss]

That was a wonderful story that passed under my radar *shame* Grumpy Sick Dean was deliciously in character and I LOLed a bunch of time.

“Take a picture, Sam... Alright! I get it. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I’m constantly feeling mucus run down the back of my throat, my head is pounding, my eyes feel like they’re gonna pop out of their sockets, and my teeth feel like they’re vibrating! I’m trudging around this tick infested forest, behind your massive ass, and the damn doctor has the nerve to call my sinuses cute! Who says that!?”

Sam tried not to smile, “Acute, Dean.”

Dean paused, “... what?”

“Acute sinusitis... Never mind.”

This made LOL the hardest... I swear to God, my neighbors heard me!

Ten minutes into the journey and Dean’s soft snores filled the car, Sam smiled at him, sniffed and rubbed his nose. His eyes fluttered and he gripped the steering wheel harder.

Hih’sku! He sneezed into his shoulder.

“Aw, crap...”

I though about this a bunch of time all thru the fic... Dean is sneezing all over the place, Sam's gonna get sick.... but I kind of forgot it in the end because this surprised me Delicious surprise.... I support the idea that it should be continuated Next case please!

HAHA! So glad you like it! I'm just going to continue straight on from here

Two sick Winchesters for the price of one

Hope you enjoy the rest...

[MissBayliss]

***

Dean slept pretty solidly for four hours while Sam sniffled in the driver’s seat, muffling sneezes into his sleeve.

He’d been feeling progressively worse as the journey went on but he refused to pull over until he’d driven at least eight hours, and put enough distance between them and their last case.

The sun was just starting to go down, its low brightness giving Sam a headache. Every so often Dean would make a little choking, grunting noise and shift in his sleep. This time the choking cough erupting out of him woke him. He must have been distressed, because he scrambled forward, gripping the dashboard as he coughed. It went on so long Sam reached out a steadying hand and grabbed Dean’s shoulder as he leaned forward, threatening to bash his head on the dash. He finally took a few shuddering breaths, his muscles quivering under Sam’s hand.

“Holy shit” he croaked, sitting back again.

Sam sniffed inconspicuously, rubbing a hand underneath his nose.

Dean immediately looked at him, narrowing his gaze. Sam felt himself under scrutiny and cleared his throat.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Fine,” his voice caught in his throat and he coughed lowly.

“Really,” Dean quirked an eyebrow, “Cause you sound great.”

“Dude, you’re the one who sounds like you’ve been gargling gravel.”

Dean snorted, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Sam scrunched his nose in an effort to ward off the impending sneeze.

Dean shivered and Sam nudged the heat higher.

“You got a fever or something?” Dean looked at him.

Sam glanced at him, then back at the road, “No, but you do...”

Dean coughed against his fist, shivered again, “You’re seriously telling me you’re not sick?”

Sam couldn’t answer, his eyelids drooping, head tilting back, he pressed the back of his hand against his nose. He could feel Dean staring straight at him.

“Het’chew! Huh’ih’hetsco! Heh’skcho!”

“You crash my car, I’ll kill you...”

“Heh’schu! Hut’schew!”

“Take the next exit.”

“Dean...”

“Sammy...” Dean growled back.

Sam swallowed, regained his composure, and took the next exit.

Sam felt like a wrung out dish rag, but he knew how bad Dean was at the moment. He was the one that had been spewing blood less than 24hrs ago, that was swallowing pills the size of horse tranquilizers.

“Alright, maybe I’m a little sick...”

“Ya think?... Huh’schu! Het’skew! Hut’choo!... Son of a... huh.. Heh’schu! Oh my god...” Dean blew his nose into a tissue, wincing as he did.

Sam pulled in to the first motel he saw.

“I’ll get us a room,” he sniffed, getting out of the car.

“They accept plague victims?” Dean called after him.

Sam shut the door in his face.

***

“How can I help you, hon?” the friendly, middle-aged woman behind the counter chirped as he walked in. Her tone was friendly enough, but the pitch of it didn’t help Sam’s headache.

“Twin room, please,” he smiled, thankful that the congestion that was working it’s way in didn’t muffle his words too much.

His nose had other plans though.

“Het’scho!”

“Bless you, dear,” she said offhandedly, scrawling in the guest book, “Just passing through?”

Sam sniffled and nodded, “We were gonna try and drive all night, but...” he glanced out the doors to see Dean in the car, coughing incessantly, “We’re a little under the weather.”

“Oh, dear! No, you boys can’t be driving like that,” she clucked her tongue, looking out at Dean, “I’ll put you down for at least 2 nights, and you just let me know if you need to stay any longer.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be on the road by then,” he smiled, tried not to look so deflated.

“Nonsense. You stay until you’re back on your feet. I’ll put you in room 13.” Ironic, Sam thought. “There’s a diner just down the road, they do deliveries to the motel if you want me to order you something.”

“Thanks very much,” he said, taking the key from her.

She smiled at him, looking like she didn’t really want the conversation to end. Sam felt bad, thought maybe she was lonely, but he was too tired to make a better effort. So he just smiled back and went back to the car.

“Took you long enough,” Dean growled, as he entered the car.

Sam hunched forward, “Het’schew! Hitscho!”

“Bless you, sneezy.”

“You can talk,” Sam grumbled as he started the engine.

“het’SCHU!” *thump* “Ah, son of a...”

“Did you just hit your head on the dash?”

“Shut up...”

Sam drove and parked round the corner, as close to their room as he possibly could. Dean was struggling out of the car before he’d even turned the engine off.

“Dude, where’s the fire?” Sam asked, joining Dean outside the car.

Dean shut his door and immediately buckled, hanging onto the roof to keep upright.

“Shit, Dean,” Sam ran round and hoisted Dean back up, “Your head okay?”

“It’s fine,” he growled, “Just got up too quick.”

His face was drawn, stark white, and sickly covered in sweat, “Dammit, you’re pretty sick, Dean.”

Dean brushed away his hands, “Help me inside, will ya? Freeze out here...”

Sam supported his brother up to the door of their room, leaning him against the wall as he unlocked it.

“Het’scho! Huh’tschu!” Sam sneezed into his shoulder, fumbling with the key.

“Bless ya. Any time now...” Dean said, listing to the side.

Sam grabbed his shoulder with one hand and manhandled him through the door and onto the bed.

“Just stay there. I’ll - I’ll get... the, eh.. Het’scho! I’ll get the bags.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, lying sprawled on his back across the queen bed.

When Sam came back with the bags Dean had his arm draped over his eyes.

“We already saved the day, S’mmy...” he slurred, “‘t’s not fair.”

“I know, dude,” Sam said, sitting down on his bed, rubbing his temples, “Believe me, I know.”

“I want mom.”

Sam stopped and looked at his brother, distressed and panicked, and really, really worried about Dean.

“What?” he stammered, tried to lubricate his mouth enough to speak.

“Mom used to make me tomato rice soup, she’d sing, and rub my chest and make it all better. Didn’t mind being sick then...”

Dean was rambling and Sam was concerned that his fever was maybe too high again.

“You still there, Sammy?” he groaned, eyes still covered.

“Yeah, bro, I’m here... I’m not going anywhere.”

“Wish you could have known her like I did...” he continued.

Tears prickled in Sam’s eyes. Me too, he thought.

“Let me check your head, Dean.”

“Okay...” he sighed, moving his arm.

Sam poked around for a bit, checked Dean’s eyes and glands while he was there.

“You’re good. Just a bump on the head,” he ruffled Dean’s hair, taking advantage of the feverish state he was in.

“Can I sleep yet?”

“I suppose so, but I’m waking you up for dinner. You haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Pssshh!” Dean waved an arm, and curled onto his side, wrapping his arms around the pillow, and falling asleep almost instantly.

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

YOU CONTINUED!!!!!!!!!!

“het’SCHU!” *thump* “Ah, son of a...”

“Did you just hit your head on the dash?”

“Shut up...”

Omg this. I can't stop laughing!

I can't express how much love I have for this story! :D

[HPG]

You're the best!

[MissBayliss]

Ya'll are awesome.

[MissBayliss]

***

Sam walked the short distance up to reception, hands tucked deep in his jacket, shoulders hunched against the wind. He sniffed, pulled a hand out from his pocket and sunk into his sleeve, wiping it under his nose. He coughed in the cool, dry air. He probably should have just called reception but he wanted Dean to have a rest before he tried shoving food down his throat.

The same lady stood at the front desk, her expression dropping slightly at the sight of him.

Look that good, huh, he thought.

“What are you doing out in this wind? Is anything wrong with your room, hon?” she said, her concern apparent.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine,” he cleared his throat, tried for a little louder this time, “Just wanted to order some dinner.”

He twisted away from her, shoulders shuddering, “Het’schu! Hit’choo!”

“Bless, dear. You’re not in a good way, are you?”

“Urgh, it’s my brother I’m more worried about,” he rubbed his forehead, wondering why he had to unload all his crap on this poor lady.

“Would you like me to call a doctor?” her brow knitted together with concern.

“No, no, we just came from one. He’s got a nasty sinus infection and a high fever, but he’ll be alright. Just need to get some food into him.”

“Oh! Of course, sorry. Here’s me yammering away... What can I get you boys?”

“To be honest, I’m not that hungry, but I’ll get some tomato rice soup for Dean.”

“I’ll order you two serves, hon. You should keep your strength up.”

Sam smiled and gave a small huff, “You’re probably right.”

“Sweetheart, a woman is always right.”

He smiled a little sadder this time, thought about Jess.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, shaking him from his faraway gaze.

He nodded, “Yeah,” cleared his throat yet again, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’ll bring you your soup when it’s ready, dear. Shouldn’t be too long,” her warm eyes made his heart clench, if only Dean hadn’t been rambling about mom. It would have been nice to have had a mom.

The lady’s name was Angela and she actually owned the motel. Sam spoke to her for a little longer, relishing intelligible conversation, before heading back to his room, and his brother.

***

Dean didn’t stir when Sam entered the room, not even when he rested a rough hand against his forehead. Sam frowned, but he wasn’t hotter, and he’d stopped shivering now.

“Het’schu! Het’ngxt!” he caught the sneezes in his hand, trying desperately to quieten them. He rubbed his forehead, looked back at his brother. An earthquake wouldn’t wake him right now.

He shut himself in the bathroom and collapsed onto the closed toilet lid, feeling it creak underneath him, and briefly worrying it would crack in half. He wasn’t exactly light. He rubbed his face with both hands, pausing to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, and groaning out loud. This was the first time he’d been sick since Jess... passed away. It seemed a better way to put it than “murdered”. She used to look after him, to be fair she did all the things that Dean would have done for him, but she had a lighter touch. He thought about the way she used to look at him when he was sick, it was the only time anyone had ever made him feel comforted. Dean had always looked after him, but when they were younger, and he got sick, Dean would look at him a certain way. A way that made him feel he had his brother’s happiness hanging in the balance. Jess looked at him like she was in love with him, but Dean’s eyes were always much more desperate, like Sam was the only thing holding him together and if he was sick... if anything happened to him... he knew Dean’s world was crumble. And he often felt better in Dean’s presence and care, but he was never comforted, because of that desperate look he received from his big brother. When he was sick, he was never the more fragile one.

He blinked a few times, wiped his tears away with his fingertips, got up and started running the shower. Sam didn’t really have hot showers, but he couldn’t seem to get warm this time. The steam flooded his sinuses and he took a congested breath, feeling mucus already settling in his lungs. Great.

He sneezed helplessly and continually, hoping Dean would stay asleep, just for another 20 minutes. He didn’t want the worried look, not again.

God, why would his eyes not stop running. He’d been weeks, coming out of the bathroom, eyes red and puffy. Dean ignoring the fact he’d been crying. He’d never said anything to him, he didn’t have to.

He thought he was over that part, the constant crying and remembering and regretting. Maybe it was the sickness, maybe he did have a fever.

He shut the water off and tried not to slip, getting out of the awkwardly small shower/bath. They never made those things big enough for him.

He exited the bathroom, after glancing at himself in the mirror, towel tucked around his hips, hair dripping.

The small window next to the little breakfast table was wide open, cold night air gushing in. Dean was on his stomach, in a t-shirt and jeans, every part of his exposed skin dripping in sweat.

Sam was greeted with a moan from his sick brother. Good, at least Dean was too sick to worry about him right now.

“Dean, it’s freezing outside,” he crossed the motel room and grabbed some clothes from his bag.

“Probably,” he rasped, his voice going in and out, “But I’m boiling.”

“No kidding, at least it’s finally broken.”

“What’s broken?” Dean’s head came up, squinting at his brother.

“Your fever,” Sam said, shutting himself in the bathroom to get changed.

Sam came back out, rugged up in a hoodie and sweatpants. He closed the window most of the way, leaving it open a crack.

“How you feeling?” He asked, sitting on his own bed, “You were a bit out of it before.”

“Huh,” he rolled over onto his back, scratching his chest, “A little better, I guess. What’s going on with my voice?” he rubbed his throat.

Sam laughed, coughed, “Sounds like your losing it, bro. No hunting till you can yell again. Dad’s rules.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I couldn’t hunt rabbits like this," Dean moaned, in a weak gravelly whisper.

Sam scooted back on his bed to lean against the headboard, popping his laptop open on his knees.

“How does a sinus infection screw up your voice? My sinuses aren’t in my throat...” Dean struggled through the sentences, swallowing in between every few words.

“Geez, stop talking, dude. It hurts just listening to you.”

Dean snorted, coughed up a lung for an impossibly long time, then flopped back onto his stomach.

“What you...” Dean started, gave up and pointed at the laptop.

“Post nasal drip.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

“Symptom of a sinus infection,” Dean continued to stare blankly, “Snot running down the back of your throat,” Sam rolled his eyes, put it in layman’s terms.

Dean clicked, pointed at him, dopey grin on his face.

“That makes you lose your voice, apparently...” Sam said, clicking away through WebMD.

“Nerd,” Dean croaked.

Knock, knock, knock.

Sam got up, feeling his back and knees protest the movement.

“Hi, Angela,” Sam smiled.

“Oh, Sam, you look exhausted, dear.”

A crash behind him made him turn around, Angela peering around him. Dean was standing next to the bedside table, leaning against the wall, looking down at the lamp on the ground.

Sam’s mouth formed a tight line.

“Sorry,” Dean whispered, all the sound he was capable of making really.

Sam looked back at Angela and smiled, taking the containers of soup from her hands.

“Thanks for this, and sorry about him...”

“Don’t mention it,” she beamed, “And you get back in that bed, son,” she called to Dean.

Dean gave a half hearted salute and swayed a little where he stood.

“Thanks, Angela,” Sam said, shutting the door. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“I was gonna...” Sam raised his eyebrows at him.

Dean mimed having a shower.

“Eat your soup first.”

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

A crash behind him made him turn around, Angela peering around him. Dean was standing next to the bedside table, leaning against the wall, looking down at the lamp on the ground.

Omg Dean!

:heart:

You have NO idea how happy this story makes me

[MissBayliss]

Okay! I've never done a story where someone has lost their voice before. I really enjoy it when it's done right though. I hope it doesn't put too many people off. Just trying something new... still in Sam's POV so Dean's speech in italics is what he's thinking/what Sam is gathering from his facial expression, because you know, brotherly bond, that whole thing. Bold speech is text messages! Please enjoy

***

It look Sam a while to get to sleep, empty soup containers on the table in between their beds. It had taken a bit of arm twisting to get Dean to take the first couple of mouthfuls, after that he must have realised who hungry he was because he wolfed the rest of it down in minutes. Sam was so tired, and he just wanted to sleep. But he could hear Dean next to him, muffling his coughs into the blanket. His brother was trying to keep as quiet as he could, and it probably sucked even harder for Dean right now, not being able to sleep at all. Eventually, the coughing and spluttering became background noise and he was able to drift off...

Jess was burning on the ceiling, fire lapping around her, asking “Why? Why, Sam?” over and over, over and over...

The sound of his cell ringing, pierced the silence of the night, and shook him groggily from his dream. He blinked a few times, taking heavy controlled breaths before grabbing his phone.

Dean

Sam rejected the call and looked over at his brother’s back.

“Dean, you okay?”

Dean didn’t move, but his phone dinged a few moments later.

You were screaming again.

Sam sighed as he read it. Sorry, he sent back.

***

Morning came too soon for both the boys. Dean claiming first shower simply for being the first one out of bed. His cough didn’t sound good, but he was on antibiotics already so that should have cleared up anything else he had going on. Sam’s lungs felt gluggy, and breathing was a chore. Not enough to warrant taking a trip to the doctors yet though. He was sure his sickness would come and go quickly, as it usually did, Dean was the one that would end up getting infections and things like that, weaker immune system from all the alcohol and greasy diner food. You couldn’t tell him though. It was almost as if he hadn’t been taught to look after himself. Funny that.

Sam sat up in bed, tissue clamped around his nose. They were going to have to get more of those. Dean came out of the shower wearing Sam’s grey sweatshirt, it was comically large on him, but Sam didn’t say anything. By the looks of it, they weren’t venturing anywhere too far today. He coughed raggedly into the sleeve, Sam could see his muscles shaking, and could tell how weak he was, about as weak as he felt right now.

Dean looked at him, acknowledging he was awake and opened his mouth to say something, but just a rasp of air scraped out, leaving him coughing again.

“Good morning to you too,” Sam said, sniffing and discarding the tissue into the trashcan in between their beds.

Dean tried again, but no voice came out.

“Lost your voice, huh?” Sam said, as Dean flopped into a dining room chair, at the small breakfast table.

Dean raised his eyebrow, Thank you, Captain obvious.

“You feeling any better?”

Dean made a so-so gesture with his hand then pointed at Sam, you?

“Like shit...”

Dean nodded, sounds about right.

Sam convulsed helplessly, “Het’schu! Hut’sckew! Het’schoo!”

Dean mouthed bless you, seemingly forgetting that sound wasn’t going to come out. Sam grabbed another tissue and blew his nose. Just then Dean started up.

“Het’schu! Hit’cho! Schu! Chu!” Dean caught them in his sleeve, stayed in that position for a while with a grimace of pain on his face, drew his hand away to massage his throat.

“You good?” Sam said, propping himself up on an elbow.

Dean clenching his eyes shut, swayed a little when he got up, and flopped back down on his bed.

“I’ll have a shower and get us some breakfast. We’re gonna have to visit the drug store again...”

Dean grabbed at his phone, clicked away for a minute then looked up at Sam. Sam’s phone dinged and he looked down.

Get popsicles.

***

Sam popped a few tylenol before heading out to reception, hoping Angela could order them something again. He didn’t want to venture too far from his bed, or his brother. He took his brother’s lead and dressed in warm comfy clothes, reserved for sick days.

“Hi Angela,” Sam smiled, had the sense to clear his throat before trying to speak this time.

“Oh, hi, Sam,” She answered back, smile a little transparent.

“Are you alright?” he asked, approaching the desk, “Geez, what did you do to yourself?”

Angela had a massive great shiner on her cheekbone, she looked tired, tears glistened in her eyes and she looked down.

“It’s a long story, dear...” she sighed.

“Well, I think we’ve established that I’ve got time,” he furrowed his brow, gave her the best puppy dog eyes.

“My house was foreclosed on a few months ago,” she started crying, “Since my husband passed, I’ve barely been able to keep it together and this place... Well, you may have noticed we don’t get many people through here. I’ve moved into one of the rooms, and last night I went back to the house to get the last of my things before the auction and...”

“What happened, Angela?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy...”

“Try me,” he said, gaze never leaving her eyes.

“I went with the bank man, and... the bookcase fell on us. No warning, nothing. Just standing up against the wall, and then bang. I just got this,” she pointed to her face, “the, uh, bank agent’s in the ICU. They don’t know if he...” she trailed off.

“Oh my god, how did the bookcase fall?”

“I don’t know!” she cried, “My husband built that house, and that bookcase was bolted to the wall!”

***

Sam came charging into the room, and opened up his laptop, sitting at the breakfast table.

“Sorry, to ruin this little vacation,” he said, glancing over at a vacant Dean, “but I think we have a case.”

Dean rubbed a sleeve under his pink nose, fantastic.

[HPG]

Two sick boys and a vengeful ghost! Can't get much better than that :-)

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Omg omg omg omg YES! I love where this is going!

[spirkestielgirl87]

Oh lookie here what did I find? This is awesome! I literally love everything about this fic- sick Dean, sick Sam, a case, care-taking, sarcasm... can't get enough!

[MissBayliss]

***

Sam coughed, wiped a shaky hand across his sweaty forehead. Yes, sweaty. Yes, he had a fever. He was probably about to ramble on and not make much sense but this was a definite case, and people were in danger. And this was Angela. And she’d been nice, and shown the boys kindness and it made Sam’s heart hurt. So, he and Dean were helping her. No matter the consequences.

“Okay, so, Angela.”

Dean put his hands up, who the hell is that?

“She’s the owner, Dean. The one that brought us food last night... Anyway, get this, her husband died a few months ago, some gas station robbery gone wrong or something. He was just an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, anyway. Angela loses all her money, and the bank are trying to take her house, alright, the thing’s being auctioned off next week. Supposedly her husband built the place, with his own blood seat and tears...”

Dean raised an eyebrow and moved his hand around in circles in front of him, get to the good stuff.

“Alright, yeah, since the bank have taken it, 3 guys have been injured, a couple during the inspection and now the bank agent’s in the ICU after a bookcase fell on him, got Angela too, she got away with a few scrapes. The bookcase was bolted to the wall...”

Dean looked at him, sounds like our kinda thing.

“Right?” Sam coughed, scrunched his face up before resuming, “I assumed it was her husband, not wanting the bank to take the house, and now it’s about to be auctioned, who knows what else it’ll do.

Dean made the motion of digging with his hands.

“Uh, uh. He was cremated.”

Dean flopped back on the bed, coughing and rolling onto his side.

“We have to help her Dean...”

Sam saw the back of Dean’s head nod slightly.

Dean sat up and closed his eyes as he swayed a little, pressed his palms into his eyes, then looked at Sam.

“Let’s get into that house...” Dean’s voice was a rough whisper, but at least he could make a sound, which he couldn’t a few hours ago.

“We should get you a whistle.”

***

Sam had managed to find out where this house was, but they were going to have to stock up before they left, and not on weapons.

“You need lozenges?” Sam said, holding up the packet, “Dean! You need lozenges?”

Dean looked over, his arms folded, his hair sticking up in all different directions. He swallowed, grimaced and nodded.

God, what a drama queen.

Dean grabbed 3 boxes of tissues, shoving one under his arm.

“I can open one of these, right?” he whispered.

Sam grabbed two of the boxes from him and put them in the basket, Dean guarding one box protectively.

“Can you wait till we’ve paid for them?”

Dean ripped the box open, and grabbed a handful of tissues.

“Het’schu! Hut’scho! Heh’skchew! Ow...”

Sam rolled his eyes, and threw a hand up in the air.

“What you want me to do? Sneeze on you instead?”

“I’d rather you didn’t...” Sam said, turning to cough into his elbow, “And stop talking.”

“You stop talking...”

“I mean it, Dean. You need your voice.”

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed another packet of lozenges and threw them in the basket.

When they’d stocked up on dayquil and tylenol, they went to the register, where a girl in her early twenties was working the till.

“Hi, how are you?” she greeted, jovially.

“Been better,” Sam laughed, as he unloaded the drugs onto the bench.

“Oh, dear,” she frowned at the items before starting to put them through, “Well, if you wanna make us feel better...”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she said, looking up at Dean, none the wiser of his attempted pick-up.

“He’s lost his voice,” Sam tried to steer the conversation in a less uncomfortable direction.

“Oh, I hate that,” she wrinkled her nose, which was, let’s face it, adorable. Hey, Sam was human too.

“We don’t need to talk, sweetheart,” Dean winked, his gravelly whisper, not really traveling all the way to her. His intent was clear though.

Sam pursed his lips, as he handed her the cash, “He’s feverish, sorry,” he apologised.

She flushed and handed him the change, looking down, as Dean gave her a wave as they left, bags in hand.

Sam punched him in the arm, once they were in the parking lot.

Dean widened his eyes, what was that for!?

“That was for hitting on that sweet girl. Can you keep it in your pants for once?”

Dean grinned stupidly and waggled his eyebrows.

Apparently not.

Sam stopped halfway to the car, sneezing against the back of his hand.

“Het’schu! Huh’SCHO! Heh- HET’CHEW! *sniff*... Uh, god... Where did you even catch this flesh eating virus from?”

Dean was staring at him, face flushed and glistening. He shrugged.

“Remind me to kick your ass for it later...”

Dean punched him this time. Sam could feel the weakness in it. They were crazy going after a vengeful spirit or crazy poltergeist like this. But they had to do something. Like Dean said, it was their job. It didn’t matter if they both had fevers over 100 degrees. They could drug up, chug some coffee, and get it done.

How hard could it be?

***

[spirkestielgirl87]

Awesome update! I especially like how Dean was trying to pick up the cashier with no voice and Sam being all apologetic about it! Sounds like an interesting case too- can't wait to see how they do solving it while so sick.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Sam punched him in the arm, once they were in the parking lot.

Dean widened his eyes, what was that for!?

“That was for hitting on that sweet girl. Can you keep it in your pants for once?”

Dean grinned stupidly and waggled his eyebrows.

Apparently not.

This. This right here.

YOU are a pure GENIOUS, Anonymous.

[MissBayliss]

***

Dean and Sam went back to the motel, before heading out to the house. Really, they were just delaying the inevitable. Dean had a whistle shoved in his pocket, his voice seeming to come and go, but mostly go. Hacking up a lung every now and again didn’t seem to help. Sam was mostly just tired and sluggish, his head feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. They bought a thermometer, and while Sam’s temperature was above the norm at 101.6, Dean’s was up at 102.8. His face was flushed and he could tell from the amount Dean was rubbing his face that his sinuses were still giving him grief.

“You got a headache?” Sam watched him from the breakfast table.

Dean nodded, head in hands, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Maybe we should wait...”

Dean looked up at him, for what?

“Can we really take this on? Maybe we should call Dad...”

“We’re not calling Dad,” Dean choked on his words and the sheer force he tried to get them out at, coughing into his fist until he gagged.

“Jesus, Dean...”

He waved a hand, “‘M fine.”

“You’re not fine... We’re not fine.”

Dean’s puppy dog eyes asked him a million questions. What were they going to do about the case? They had to do something. They couldn’t let this lady lose anything else. Then Dean’s expression changed.

“You think we should tell her?” Sam asked, pausing to cough into his fist.

A small shrug squashed any doubts. They were too sick to do this on their own. They needed to know what Angela had kept of her husbands to keep his spirit around. If they knew what it was, what they needed to do, it would make it that much easier.

“Let’s hope it’s a vengeful spirit and not a poltergeist, Dean, ‘cause a poltergeist will make things a lot harder.”

Dean nodded, lowering his head into his hands again, gently massaging his face.

Sam furrowed his brow, “Dean, you been taking those antibiotics? You should at least be getting a little better by now...”

Dean paused his rubbing and let out a small sigh, more of a wheeze really. He cleared his throat and swallowed slowly.

“I may have thrown up this mornings’...”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows flew up.

“Last nights too.”

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“God, Dean. You can’t start antibiotics and not finish them...”

Dean glared at him, didn’t really have an option, dude.

“We’ll have to go back to the doctor and get something different. You’re gonna breed a super-virus in there if you’re not careful.”

Dean desperately reached for the tissue box, grabbing one before his nose interrupted the reprimand.

“Het’sckuu! Huh’SCHU! Heh... Hut’choo!” he wiped at his nose, pathetically and Sam’s heart broke a little at the display.

His brother was sicker then he originally thought. He hadn’t been able to keep anything down, no wonder he was so weak and exhausted.

“Bless you... Shall we talk to Angela, or do you want to have a nap first?”

Dean flipped him the bird.

“Will you stay upright long enough to talk to her?”

Dean looked at him, this time with a determined expression. Unfortunately it was undercut by the red nose, and flush across his cheeks.

“hut’schoo! Heh’ksew! Hih’kchuu!” Sam caught his sudden sneezes in cupped hands. When he finally looked up, sniffling miserably, Dean’s eyes were boring through him, could say the same for you, sunshine.

Sam could almost hear the snark in his unsaid words and frankly he had to agree with him. But still, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the table, with every intention of speaking to Angela right away. Dean followed suit, standing up on shaky legs, and putting a hand against the wall for support.

Sam laughed, “She’s gonna think we’re crazy. Out of our head with fevers or something.”

“We are,” Dean growled, pushing out the front door.

***

It's only a small update but I have to pace myself lol this one is turning out to be a marathon. Planning on going a lot longer, given the interest for it is there. Thanks so much to the loyalists that have been with me from the get go. Every comment is appreciated and so definitely underserved. Feel very humbled.

- Bitty xx

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Sam laughed, “She’s gonna think we’re crazy. Out of our head with fevers or something.”

“We are,” Dean growled, pushing out the front door.

Omg. These boys are going to be the end of me!

The story...the plot line...omg. I love it. I love you! This is truly brilliant!

[MissBayliss]

***

Angela didn’t seem to notice them come in. She was sitting at the reception desk, seemingly staring at a point on the wall.

“Hi, Angela,” Sam said, tapping on the counter to get her attention.

“Oh! Hi, Sam. Sorry, I was away with the fairies,” she said, getting up quickly.

Sam smiled, muffled a cough in his fist, “You’ve met my brother. This is Dean.”

Dean was already leaning on the counter on his elbows, he flicked her a strained smile and nodded.

“It’s lovely to meet you, son, but shouldn’t you be in bed? You look awfully pale.”

Dean shook his head, gave a nonchalant expression.

“We actually needed to talk to you about something. It’s kinda personal,” Sam gave her his best puppy dog eyes and sniffled. At the same time Dean started hacking again. The first few seconds could be ignored but when it went on a bit longer Angela jumped into action.

“Come on, Dean. Sit down, dear,” she lead them behind the counter, small hand hooked around Dean’s bicep as he continued to cough and choke into the sleeve of Sam’s black hoodie.

There was a small room off the reception area, kind of like an office, but with a pink velvety lounge along one wall. She sat Dean down and rubbed his back.

“You need some water?” she asked, bending to look at his face.

He cleared his throat, as the fit subsided, not meeting her gaze.

“‘M fine,” he whispered, horsely.

“Sweetheart, you’re anything but fine.”

“Het’schew! Hut’choo!” Sam sneezed from the corner of the room he was watching them from. Angela immediately turned to him.

“And you, young man, sit down.”

Sam followed her instructions and sat next to his brother on the little couch, pulling out a tissue from his pocket to stop his nose running all over his face. Dean held his hand out and Sam retrieved another clean tissue, handing it to his brother.

“heh - heh’schtuu!” Dean lurched forward with a forceful sneeze.

“Well, aren’t you a pair,” she pulled over the desk chair and sat down in front of them, studying their faces. Sam was just glad she hadn’t turned them away. People weren’t usually too keen on having others sneeze and cough their bodily fluids around them.

“Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Sam swallowed, picked at a very interesting piece of fluff on his jacket. He could feel Dean looking at him and knew he had to take the helm on this one. Dean couldn’t exactly, with what was left of his voice.

“We actually wanted to ask you about your husband?”

She sat back in her seat, eyes instantly glistening.

“What do you want to know about Martin?”

“Angela... we think something might be going on in your old house,” Sam sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, “The things that have been happening, the accidents, the injuries...”

“What are you saying?”

“We think the spirit of your husband might be haunting the house.”

Angela’s expression was neutral. She stayed that way for a moment before reaching out a hand to Sam’s forehead.

“Do you want me to call a doctor for you two?”

“No,” he gently pushed her hand away, “We’re not... well, we are sick, but we’re not crazy...”

“We hunt ghosts,” Dean rasped out.

She leaned back again, “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Angela, please. We’re trying to help you.”

“If this is a joke, I don’t think it’s very funny.”

“You lived in the house after he passed, did you ever feel cold spots, hear scratching in the walls, flickering lights, or just... feel his presence still around?”

Her face fell, and Sam could tell he’d hit something there.

“This is ridiculous,” she shook her head.

“Is it?” Dean asked, staring her down.

She stood up and walked away, her back to them.

“You’re saying my husband’s ghost did this?” she turned to look at them, the purple bruise spreading down to her jaw.

Sam looked down, “Angela, spirits that get trapped here, that are tied to something on earth, they can’t control themselves. It’s still your husband, but, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s angry. And he doesn’t want the bank to take the house. He’s going to keep lashing out and if we let them do that auction, something bad is going to happen.”

She sat back down in her seat, blinked slowly at both of them, “You said you hunt ghosts?”

The boys nodded in sync.

“And what happens to them after? Where do they go?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“We don’t know,” Sam said, “All we know is they can’t stay here. And wherever he is right now, he’s in pain, and he needs to move on.”

Angela looked down, tears running freely down her cheeks.

“How do we do it?”

“Usually we burn the remains but Martin was cremated...”

Her eyes widened, and Dean nudged Sam like maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Oh, that’s right, fever.

“You burn...”

“We need to know if you have anything of Martin’s, something that his spirit might have latched onto,” it was a long sentence for Dean to try and get out. He sat back and coughed into his fist, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Sam gave a quick, comforting pat on his brothers knee.

“I don’t,” she shook her head.

“Maybe, a lock of hair, a piece of jewellery, something that would have been with him all the time, that had significant value,” Sam unfolded his tissue and blew his nose. The pressure behind cheeks was giving him the worst headache.

The phone at the reception desk starting ringing, as Sam’s statement rung in the air. Angela quickly excused herself to go and answer it, wanting any excuse to get away, probably.

Dean leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He was so still Sam thought he actually night have fallen asleep, or passed out. He nudged him and Dean waved a hand, not making a sound, or opening his eyes.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Jus’... give me a minute,” he rasped, pursed his lips and coughed rumbles deep down in his chest.

“What if she won’t help us?” Sam said, sudden panic washing over him, “If she throws us out, where will we go? We’re too sick to drive anywhere and this is the only motel in this tiny town out in the arse end of nowhere...”

Dean opened his eyes to slits, looking at his brother, “Your fever going up?”

“No, yeah, probably. I dunno... Shh, Dean, something’s going on,” Sam was holding a finger up, listening to Angela on the phone. Dean rolled his eyes, obviously regretted it, and clamped them shut again.

Sam tried to listen, but Dean had starting coughing again. Not loud coughs, just constant coughs, through closed lips, shaking them both on the lounge. Sam pulled a lozenge out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. There was a partial squeak from the man beside him that could have been a thanks, but Sam was watching Angela through the door.

“What?” he heard her say, “How did it happen?” he could tell be her voice she was holding back tears, and not very well, “Oh my god. Yes, no, thank you for letting me know.”

She hung up the phone and stood at the counter for a long time. Dean had gone silent beside him and he wondered again if he’d passed out, but his eyes were open when Angela reentered the room. Her face a mess of tears and ugly bruises.

“Darren, the, uh, man from the bank... he’s dead,” she choked.

“This is serious, Angela. Now someone’s dead. We need to stop this before anyone else gets hurt.”

She nodded, “How? You two can barely stand, what are we supposed to do? What do I do to stop it? How can I stop him?”

“You don’t,” Dean croaked.

“He’s right. You need to let us handle this.”

“You think I can’t see you both shivering? Dean, honey, you’re suffering from exhaustion and severe dehydration, as well as those other infections you have cooking in there. Sam, you have a pretty good flu too, and for now, you’re the lucid one, but it won’t be long before you’re as bad as your brother.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Sam said.

“And you’re not coming with us,” Dean added.

She sat down again, “But it’s my husband,” she pleaded.

“That’s why you have to stay,” Sam reached a hand out and put it on her knee, she grabbed it, giving him a desperate squeeze. “Now, think, Ange, what would your husband be so attached to?”

She looked down for a moment, patted Sam’s hand and let go, “You’re not going to like it...”

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Ohhhhhhhh ohhhhhh ohhhhhh!!!!!! Love IT!

I love this story so much!

[NorthernLady]

Sweet Cliffhanger... Don't push us over the edge please ;-) Ok, ok, please do

[Hedgehog]

I usually prefer original fiction, but this story is just perfect!

[MissBayliss]

***

Angela brought them back to room number 1, her makeshift home for the moment. Sam and Dean didn’t like the idea of scouring the attic or the basement to find her husband’s old prosthetic leg. She still had things in boxes that had to be moved out before the auction, and she couldn’t remember where she had put the leg. It was an old one that he hadn’t used in the few years up until his death, and the new one he had been buried with. It was also the only thing she could think of that he would have been attached to. Sam sighed. It couldn’t be easy, like a lock of his hair she carried around her neck. No, it had to be in the house, with the vengeful spirit.

He didn’t see why they had to move from the office to her motel room instead. He guessed she probably felt more comfortable, and wanted to look them over better. But they’d literally just gone from one small couch to another, sitting totally not huddled, side by side, shivering.

“Look, at least let me make sure you boys aren’t going to keel over before I send you in there,” she said, making tea, in the tiny kitchenette.

“We’re fine, really,” Sam insisted. The mother hen act was cute and Sam did like being taken care of from someone other than his much sicker older brother, but time was of the essence. And Sam had a feeling they weren’t going to get better any time soon and the sooner they did this, the better. But she was right about Dean. He probably needed to sleep a bit more before they went but he was a stubborn jackass. His eyes were hanging out of his head and this terrible cough he had seemed to be taking more and more out of him. That, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t been keeping water and pills down for a while, worried Sam even more. And along with that, he’d been “sneak” throwing up, and not telling Sam about it. He was so going to kick his ass when he didn’t feel so horrible.

Dean’s breath had been hitching since they entered the room and he finally had succumbed to them, gripping tightly to his sodden tissue, his whole body shuddering with the obvious effort.

“Het’schkew! Ha’haxxchu! Huh, uh, Huh’choo!” he sniffed, gasped, started up again, “HUT’SCHU! HET’CHEW! SCHUU! CHU! AT’CHO!”

“Jesus, Dean. You okay?”

Dean shook his head so minutely it would be easy to miss if you weren’t watching for it.

“Huh... I think... Het’scho!.. I think it’s,” he pinched his nose, eyes shut, tears collecting in the outer corners, “ah... allergies. Het’nxxgt!”

Sam glanced away from his brother to the window sill, where a fluffy white cat was sitting, staring, wide-eyed at the Winchesters.

“Oh, god,” Sam said, offering his brother another tissue, and putting a protective arm around him. How had he not noticed this before?

“What’s the matter, Dean? Are you alright?” Angela came over to them, offering mugs full of white tea. Clearly she was unable to decipher Dean-speak.

“Uh, Dean’s quite allergic to cats,” Sam said, rubbing his brother on the back as he coughed raggedly, slumping more and more forward.

Angela stood back, a mug in each hand, “Oh! Goodness! Alley, shoe!” she yelled at the cat, who must have got the message and leapt out the open window. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t know.”

“Het’schuu! Huh’schoo! Hut’sckew! Ha’tschoo!” Dean’s body was hunching so far forward he almost fell off the couch onto his knees, if it weren’t for Sam’s arms around him.

“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Sam said, glancing around the room at the obvious cat hair on every surface. “We gotta get him out of here. Can you help me get him up?”

Angela looked shattered, just so so guilty, and Sam would have been more sympathetic if Dean hadn’t started wheezing, worse than he was already.

She stood on the other side and they helped Dean to his feet, as he sneezed and coughed, as though there was hair actually coating his throat and sinuses.

They got him back to their room and Sam stripped his coat off him and stuffed it in the closet, along with his own, just incase any cat hair was now on their person.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, crumpling forward with another volley of sneezes, each one depleting his very little supply of energy. Sam retrieved the Benadryl from the first aid kit, along with Dean’s inhaler.

“Here, Dean,” he forced them into his brother’s hands, watching as Dean looked like he didn’t know what to do with them. Angela brought over a glass of water and helped him take the tablet.

“Come on now, sweetheart,” she soothed, as she took his inhaler from him and started shaking it, “Deep breath in, and all the way out.”

Dean breath caught in his throat and he coughed again and again.

Angela sat down next to him, while Sam was kneeling in front, hands on his brothers knees.

Angela’s hand brought the inhaler to his mouth and Dean grabbed at it desperately, taking it from her grip to breathe in a shot of ventolin. He hit the inhaler two more times, slowly getting his breathing under control.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Ange muttered again.

Sam shook his head, “He isn’t usually this bad.”

“‘M okah - Hut’shcioo!” And that was pretty much the last of the voice he had left.

Sam looked at Angela, his brow knitted with concern. He couldn’t help it. It was his brother.

“That Benadryl is gonna knock him out. We’ll head to the house tomorrow and get this done. We promise. We just need a little time till then,” Sam let himself cough into his shoulder, dislodging some pockets of mucus in his lungs.

Angela nodded, teary again, “I’ll bring you boys dinner later and some more medicine. Don’t think you can’t ask me for anything. You’re here to help me, so I’m going to help you.”

Sam smiled, feeling tears in his own eyes, and what the hell was that about?

“Just make sure no one goes in that house until we get there,” Sam wanted to say more than that but his throat hurt and his eyes stung and he just wanted to be alone for a while.

“I will, Sam,” she stood up, rubbing Dean’s shoulder, and left the boys alone in their room, the only sound now was Dean breathing roughly in and out.

“You good, champ?” Sam squeezed Dean’s knee.

“Champ?” Dean rasped, coughed again, “Still whoop your ass...”

“Yeah, I’m totally shaking in my boots right now,” Sam smiled, helping his brother to lie down.

“Ghost, Sammy...”

“I know. It’ll still be there when you wake up. Get some sleep.”

“You... get... sleep,” he ground out, curling on his side, sneezing into his pillow.

“You have a way with words, dude,” Sam teased, but Dean was already out like a light.

Sam cringed as he noticed the red hives that had broken out on Dean’s neck, running up to his jaw line like a mass of angry mosquito bites, and damn, did they really not need this right now.

Sam threw the comforter from his own bed over his brother and lay down, wrapping himself in only the thin sheet. He thought about calling Angela and getting her to bring more blankets as he shivered in his bed, but he was too tired, and he didn’t have long enough to finish the thought before darkness took him.

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Omg... Sickness? AND Allergies????

Oh lordy. This story is going to be the end of me. And i'm perfectly fine with that

[v a n i l l a]

This fic made me so happy :3 Please keep going, I love it so far!!!