They're Only Words (SPN - Sam)

[Anilkex]

Work has been kicking my ass lately - so I've barely written, let alone read much of anything. I need to dig through the recent wave of stories posted here. Meanwhile - I am sort of participating in TG's meme...I managed a couple short fills (I know, right?) and this was the first.

Prompt was: Every time, Dean reads to Sam when Sam's sick to get him to sleep. There was only one time it didn't work.

xxxxx

Sam glanced at the clock, sighing when it read only two minutes past the last time he checked. Thunder rumbled, rattling the windows of the cold motel room. The storm was supposed to be a doozy, with warnings to stay off the roads and seek shelter until it passed. According to Google, this shitshack was the only motel for miles around, so that’s where the Impala stopped for the night.

Sam’s pretty sure it barely qualified as “shelter”.

His tired hand scrubbed tired eyes, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. The headache he’d been sporting for days wasn’t in a rush to leave, despite the alarming quantity of medication shoved down his throat. The constant drainage from his sinuses hadn’t helped either, along with the grating cough and forceful sneezing. He cleared his throat, wincing as pain shot across his neck and somehow straight into his skull.

Sigh.

Quick glance.

Only one minute later.

Fantastic.

Dean was reading. His words flowed over and through his brother, but still Sam couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning, trying, but to no avail. Sam was wide awake, two hours later.

It had always worked - this trick of Dean’s. A Sick Sam meant a Sam who needed to be in one spot for long periods of time so he could rest. Once wrangled into bed, on a couch, or in the backseat of the Impala, Dean would read anything and everything to keep Sam’s attention, until he succombed to the fever and fell asleep.

But Dean hadn’t read to him in forever, even when emotional upheaval from Jessica’s death overcame Sam’s immune system three years ago. Sam’s stubborn need for autonomy outweighed Dean’s innate need to parent, so the reading ceased and Sam chose to be sick on his own.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, he was desperate - he needed Dean. Sam hadn’t slept in...he wasn’t sure exactly.

He stopped counting after that first night.

Staring at the ceiling, Sam cursed softly when his nose started twitching. The first sneeze rocked the bed, his upper half rising as he caught it in the thin blanket. The second built for a while, giving him time to roll away from Dean’s bed, and sneeze against his shoulder. The next three came one after the other, but he muffled them into his pillow and was somehow still able to hear Dean’s words.

He needed to hear the words.

When the small fit passed, Sam sniffed and rubbed his nose against the blanket, figuring the course material would help alleviate the itching that hadn’t abated in days. Instead, it served as encouragement, egging on a triple, followed by a double.

Sam’s red-rimmed eyes stung with frustrated tears.

This wasn’t working.

Nothing would work.

Sitting up with a raspy growl, he reached over and threw the ancient cassette player against the wall, abruptly cutting off Dean’s voice with a crash that resonated throughout Sam’s aching head.

He stared for a moment across the room at the empty bed, still neatly made, just waiting for someone to flop down and muss it up.

But Sam knew.

No one was coming.

[SexualOddity]

Where's Dean?

*Cries*

This was heartbreaking. But in the best way.

[Always-a-Ginger]

This was so good. Part of me feels like this would have been right after Dean went to hell and he would have made the tape for Sam hoping it would help.

Very poignant. Sad but in a beautiful way.

[SexualOddity]

Oh yeah of course, it says Jess died three years ago. Man, that makes it even sadder. And he still thinks of it as Dean's bed. Wow. I love this more every time I read it.