Cursed: Gleam (SPN, Sam)

[SexualOddity]

So, I have a oneshot for you. It's part of a series that I'm calling 'Cursed'. Although I probably can't call it a series yet, because this is only the second part. Intended series, I guess!

The first part is here, but don't feel you have to read it if you don't want to because:

a. It's long and

b. All you really need to know is that Sam previously only very rarely sneezed, but he's now been hit with a curse that makes him sneeze whenever he's in the presence of a dark power. This part is a little light on sneezing because they never get all that close to the hunt, but there's some illness-type-stuff to make up for it.

Also, I'm obsessed with the shtriga story and apparently I have to write about a billion fics about it.

Hope you enjoy

--

Dean:

After the curse, when we started powering through hunts (and we really were powering– nothing says productivity like following your brother’s nose to every minor monster), I started noticing a gleam in Sam’s eye that made me more than a little nervous.

I’d seen it in Sam before, more than once. But if you’d told me a year ago that it’d have any kind of connection with hunting, I’d have given you an ice pack and checked for concussion.

On the surface, Sam is the sensible, rational one – all triple checking and forward planning and ‘triangulate your data’. (He said that the other day – I don’t even know what it means.) Let me tell you, all of that stuff goes about as deep as the silver crap that you scrape off a scratch-and-win.

Sometimes, it’s like there’s this switch that gets flipped in his mind, and he can’t think two inches past the latest thing he’s obsessing about – passing his SATS, getting away from Dad, killing a demon…

And that’s fine: he’s a go-getter, whatever. Except that all reason goes out of the window. Let’s run away, find a random dog and live alone with it for two weeks, let’s take off to Stanford instead of taking ten seconds to sit and listen to Dad’s point of view; let’s ignore Dad’s twenty-two years hunting experience and toss out his instructions.

For the first couple of weeks, I just let it happen. At least this time he was getting all worked up about something I could get on board with. It was nice to know that we were all finally pulling in the same direction. Plus, I have to admit, I enjoyed blasting through hunt after hunt. Sam could tell whether there was a job for us pretty much as soon as we rolled into town. He also learned pretty quick that nothing convinces a shady witness to excuse you to poke around their house like having sneezing fit in the middle of their living room.

But I knew that the first time something happened – the minute we disagreed about a hunt, or something made me want to take my foot off the gas, or something – I was gonna have a fight on my hands. It didn’t take very long.

--

Sam:

After the curse I had this idea that the pair of us could just jump into the Impala and storm the bastion, so to speak.

Around that time, everything had this feeling of coming to a head. Dad was obviously making some kind of waves in the demon world - the demon that cursed me let slip to Dean that Dad was on some kind of a Hell’s most-wanted list. Then fate dropped into my lap a Hex that, ridiculous as it was, basically served as an early warning sign for evil. I couldn’t imagine a better opportunity for taking the hunt to the demon and finally putting an end to all the bad blood within our family.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that.

One of our first roadblocks was a shtriga encounter in Wisconcin – our second, apparently. The thing got its jaws into me, but it was brief. Also: glowy, supernatural, life force-stuff leaked out of its mouth; victims got better: it never occurred to us that it was anything left to think about. I guess it did take some kind of a toll on me, though, because by the end of the following day, I was coming down with the shittiest cold I’d had in years.

I knew the minute I started getting sick that it was gonna be an issue. Dean had told me enough about this particular nasty for me to know why he had weird feelings about it taking a second bite. Looking back I could have probably been a little more agreeable about the whole thing, but I was sick, and we were within touching distance of Yellow Eyes. It wasn’t exactly a recipe for patience.

It didn’t help matters that one of the symptoms was this really bitchy cough. The kids in the town we’d just left had all had bouts of coma-inducing pneumonia pretty much immediately after having the life sucked out of them. The shtriga was dead, and I didn’t have pneumonia. I don’t think I was even showing any signs of getting it. But apparently that wasn’t gonna stop Dean plying me with liquids and taking my temperature every two minutes.

--

Dean:

Let me get this straight: I don’t like this monster. Even setting aside our run in in ‘88, drinking the energy and lifeforce out of kids is a pretty fucking classless move, even compared to the low, low standards of the typical things we hunt.

Pretty much as soon as we realised Sam was getting sick, I got on the phone to Fitchburg. The kids who’d been hit by the attacks were still recovering. It was gonna be a process, not the miracle turnaround I was hoping for when I stuck a bullet in that bastard fugly’s head, but they were moving in the right direction and they were in good hands.

Which left me with Sam.

Sam:

This hunt, this monster: for Dean, it was personal. I got that. And, to be honest, I did feel pretty crappy. But what irritated me, what Dean didn’t understand, was that none of that mattered. The demon wasn’t gonna work to our schedule, and this was absolutely the wrong time to drag me onto the sidelines. I mean, we’d found Dad (We’d let him go again – don’t get me started on that one – but still..) and we knew that the demons were running scared.

And another thing…

“Sniff! Deand, I thindk there’s a hundt ind this townd.”

He set down his pharmacy bag on the coffee table and frowned at me.

“I thought I told you no research.”

“It wasnd’t research.” I had actually been sitting on my bed, trying to summon the energy to check through local news reports, but he didn’t need to know that. “Mby ndose is idtchindg like crazy.”

I could see Dean visibly relax. “Ever think that might be because you’re sick?”

“I dobd’t sndeeze whend I’bm sick.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it was as close as made no difference. “That’s why this curse thindg works. If I’bm sndeezindg we cand be pretty mbuch certaind that sombethindg is goindg on.”

Dean shrugged off his jacket. “Except that you’re not sneezing.”

I pulled a bunch of toilet paper from the roll on my lap. I couldn’t really argue with that.

“Listen Sam,” Dean sighed. “Just give me a couple days okay? That’s it. After that, if you want out, we’re out. We’ll jump right back on the demon train, I promise, even if we have to pack the glovebox full of Kleenex and cold medicine. I just need long enough to know that this isn’t gonna turn into something worse.”

It’d been a few weeks since our little witch-encounter, and I was, by then, pretty intimately acquainted with the curse. I knew that something was going on, even if Dean didn’t want to see it. But I also knew I needed to cough, badly, and that in Dean’s mind that would blow anything else I might say out of the water.

Mentally, I cursed the bug, cursed my brother, turned my head into the pillow and gave in.

--

Dean:

God, I hated that cough.

You know what else I hated? I hated the year that Sam was having. The dead girlfriend, the psychic headaches, the sneezing curse, the monster sucking away at his immune system on my watch. For the second time. Hey, you know what Dean, why don’t you go and get Sam from Stanford, huh? Why would he want a girl and a life and a law degree when he could have all this? I hated myself and I hated my stupid decisions.

But most of all I hated that fucking cough.

Sam:

I think I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was waking up to teeth-gritting pressure at my temples and an urgent tickling in my nose. I grabbed out at the nightstand, looking for Kleenex, but only succeeded in tipping a glass of water all over the carpet.

“Jesus Sam, what are you…?”

“HAH…HuhhHU’USHHuw! HhhHHG’USHuhhh!”

I sniffed stuffily and gave Dean my best meaningful look.

“What?” He said, coming over to the nightstand with a towel. “People sneeze when they’re sick. Even you, sometimes.”

“Twice ind a row?” I tried to clear my throat but my voice was going.

“Alright fine,” he answered, suddenly scrubbing harder at the water on the carpet than I thought was strictly necessary. “I’ll do a little research. See if I can hand it over to someone.”

Not if it’s the demon, I thought. But I knew it was the best I was getting for the moment.

Dean:

“Whadt do you mbeand you couldnd’t find andythindg?” Sam ripped the damn thermometer out of his mouth and started hacking up a lung.

I knew I was gonna get this reaction.

“I copied three different local newspapers. Six month’s worth. If it’ll shut you up you can read through them. From your bed,” I added, when he tried to get up. “But you can finish taking your temperature first.”

“There was a... a… mbur-HHPPsh! A mburder this week!”

“It’s New York Sammy, and their throats were slit.”

“Budt…”

“C’mon, I can’t call a hunter with that. What do you want me to say? No evidence of the supernatural, but my brother sneezed a few times, so…”

He scowled at me and immediately started coughing again. I guess at least it stopped him bitching. I grabbed his glass and went to get him some water.

“Can you not just accept that this one time the Universe is doing you a favour?” I asked him on my way back from the bathroom. “Nothing to hunt. You can take a couple days and shake this thing off.”

“I wouldnd’t… cough! Cough! I wouldnd’t be sndeezidng.”

“You’ve got a cold, okay? A bad one. Besides, maybe your pattern has changed. Curse probably messed with your sinuses.

Sam frowned, and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, but he stuck the thermometer back in his mouth before he pulled the news reports closer.

“I’bm gondda read these,” he mumbled.

“ ‘S’why I brought them kiddo.”

--

Sam:

Whatever Dean might try to tell you, I didn’t keep myself awake on purpose just so that I could find the hunt. But I’d hit a point in my cold where the congestion was so thick I felt like it was filling up my skull, clogging up my ears, pressing against my eye sockets... I didn’t have a hope of sleeping with my nose so stuffed up, sprawled out on my bed with my mouth hanging open, gasping and breaking off to cough about every other minute.

Eventually, Dean clicked off the TV and climbed under his bedsheets, and I heard his breathing settle into a slow rhythm. It occurred to me that Dad’s journal was still out on the table with Dean’s empty takeout containers. I had a mini-flashlight in my jacket pocket: I could do a little research without much risk of waking him.

Dean:

I didn’t even have time to wipe the crap out of my eyes or stretch out my back before I had Sam sitting on my bed, coughing his guts up and shoving Dad’s journal under my nose.

I rubbed a hand across my forehead.

“You… cough… You remember… gasp! Cough-cough-cough-cough-cough!”

That was real convincing: too sick to tell me about the hunt, but not too sick to go on it, apparently. In the end he held out the journal for me to look at, tapping a finger at different points on the pages.

“Dnidneteedn-twelve…” He announced in this sore and scratchy-ass voice. “Dnidneteedn-fordty-five… Dnidneteedn-sevendty.”

He handed me the local newspaper that I’d printed off at the library. “Two thousand and five. Snf!”

I had a quick skim over Dad’s scrawl. Three murders, upstate New York. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside.

Well, shit.

“You think this new one’s a match.”

Sam nodded. “Sambe dhhuh… details-HhhCHhHSHH! UhHUSHH’UH! Ugh. Plus there’s the sndeezindg.”

I took a long look at him. Much as his eyes were lit up with the excitement of his petty little victory, it didn’t change the skin beneath them: all dark and puffy and unhealthy.

“C’bbmodn Deadn, Dad wandted to cadtch this thindg. He’s beedn trackindg killindgs, waiting for adn opportudity.”

I decided not to point out that this was the first time Sam had ever given two craps about what Dad wanted.

“You really thidk Dad would care thad I have a cold, or cough-cough-cough! Or thad you’re bendt out of shape because you have a history with the thindg that caused it…”

Great, because everyone wants to be psycho-analysed by their little brother.

“…Dad would wandt us out there Dead.”

And I sighed. But not because I’m too much of a control-freak to trust my brother when he says he’s well enough to hunt. Not even because this stupid ass monster got its lips around my brother again. Because Sam was right (the asshole). Dad would want us out there, extenuating circumstances be damned. Because when it comes to the demon, there’s that self-same obsessive gleam in Dad’s eye.

You’re not as different as you might think, Sammy.

And one day it’s gonna get the pair of you killed.

“I’ll pack the car,” he said with his triumphant little grin.

“You better not forget the cough syrup.”

Edited November 23, 2015 by SexualOddity

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

WHAMM~~~

Again you hit us with another story bit! And as always, right on point and perfect! I just get so excited whenever I see you post something.

[Anilkex]

OH my God.

I cannot...CAN. NOT. get enough of your Sam and Dean first person narratives. I can't even figure out what the hell to selectively quote and comment on, because I'd have to paste too much of it, and it'd be silly looking. It is now officially a series, I continue to want (demand? Can I do that? I'm gonna do that...) more of this.

Oneshot slices, longer stories (and really - a reason to not read the first one was that it was long? Are you insane? It was brilliant!), multi-chapter...don't care. These are awesome to read, you weave in the sneezing with puh-lot and I loves.

(<-it took me a while to find this)

Ohhhh, wait - this line:

I guess it did take some kind of a toll on me, though, because by the end of the following day, I was coming down with the shittiest cold I’d had in years.

I grinned and actually squirmed. Mmmmm...

[Always-a-Ginger]

This was so good.

You have totally and completely nailed Sam and Dean's voices here and I love the point of view changes.

I do like how Sam and John are so similar and hat Dean can see it so clearly.

[gingerdean]

I'm totally loving this series so far. I absolutely adore the premise. And I'm not usually too big on first person POV, but you do such an amazing job at capturing their voices, I am really, really digging it here.

I think this is my favorite line:

“C’mon, I can’t call a hunter with that. What do you want me to say? No evidence of the supernatural, but my brother sneezed a few times, so…”

This is fantastic, and I really hope you do more of this!

[sierraplaid]

I just realized I never commented on this one!

"He also learned pretty quick that nothing convinces a shady witness to excuse you to poke around their house like having sneezing fit in the middle of their living room." <-- This is an excellent point.

"I guess it did take some kind of a toll on me, though, because by the end of the following day, I was coming down with the shittiest cold I’d had in years." *weeps for the lost potential on the actual show* Thanks for setting it straight!

"Hey, you know what Dean, why don’t you go and get Sam from Stanford, huh? Why would he want a girl and a life and a law degree when he could have all this? I hated myself and I hated my stupid decisions." Nailed the Dean guilt. : (

"'C’mon, I can’t call a hunter with that. What do you want me to say? No evidence of the supernatural, but my brother sneezed a few times, so…'" ahaha

“'I’bm gondda read these,” he mumbled.' ‘S’why I brought them kiddo.'" This made me laugh. Oh, researchy Sam and enabling Dean.

I love the premise of this series so much! Can't wait for the next one. Also, if you write a billion shtriga fics, I will read them.

[hugmebrotha]

This story is awesome! Thanks for posting

[estrelleta]

Wow...you're seriously nailing their voices here. Amazing job, hope you write more!