Nothing's Ever Simple - (18 Parts) (complete!)

[W.I.N.]

Title: Nothing's Ever Simple

Author: That'd be me

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: Life is woe, and darkness, and teh sad, for alack! Supernatural in no way belongs to me.

Summary: Sam comes down with a cold, which puts a crimp in the boys' newest case.

Authors Notes:

Hi all!

I'm back, after a bit of an absence. Life kind of got hectic and prevented me from being online much except for the occasional lurk. However, I have finally discovered Supernatural, and, well, I couldn't resist the idea of a sneezy!Sam. So, uh, yeah. This is total and utter fluff, but I had fun writing it. No spoilers, as I've only seen the first two seasons, and this is unconnected to anything remotely resembling plot.

~W.I.N.

:::ETA::: Okay, this turned into a multi-part thing after all. Uh... there are no spoilers that I can think of. I tried to keep the whole thing pretty generic, but from the overall tone I guess it could be set anywhere in Seasons 1 and 2, maybe even 3, which I've seen since I started writing this. Definitely not Season 4.

I will keep the title bar updated as diligently as I can, to reflect the addition of new chapters.

*****

Part 1

It was getting on toward dark when Dean made it back to the motel, slipping his key into the lock and turning it gingerly, trying not to make any noise. He cringed when the door creaked loudly on its hinges, but he needn't have worried: Sam was still out like a light, curled up on the bed, snoring softly. He looked drawn, even in sleep, likely because of the cold he'd been nursing for the past couple of days. It had started out as little more than a sore throat and a case of the sniffles, resulting in a Sam who was even more irritable than usual, but by that morning he'd been coughing non-stop, and Dean was pretty sure his younger brother was running a fever, and so he'd insisted that they stop early on. Sam had protested, but half-heartedly, and after agreeing to lie down “just for a bit,” he'd passed out cold on his double bed.

Dean smiled to himself and shook his head, then stole across the room to settle on his own bed, wondering if there was some way to turn on the TV without waking his brother. A moment later Sam stirred, then bent double in a fit of coughing. Before Dean could really start to worry, Sam drew a shuddering breath and sat up, scrubbing at his face with both hands.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean leaned over him with a wolfish grin, then ruined the moment by laying the back of his fingers against Sammy's forehead. He was feverish, but it didn't seem too bad. Nothing to be concerned about yet.

Sam groaned. “How long was I asleep?” he asked, his voice thick with congestion. He was pale and bleary-eyed, his nose pink around the edges from the cold.

“A couple of hours. How you feelin'?”

“Like utter crap,” Sam coughed again, then rubbed at his nose with the knuckles of his right hand. “God, I really need to sneeze.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Again? Dude, you spent all morning sneezing.”

His brother rubbed harder at his nose. “Not my fault my nose keeps tickling.”

“So go ahead and get it over with, then.”

“I can't,” he let out a frustrated sigh. “It won't come. Anyway, where were you?”

“Recon,” Dean answered. “Checking into our local vengeful spirit. Turns out the receptionist in that office building is a Gemini and enjoys tennis in her spare time.”

“So you found a phone number. Anything of actual use in the case?”

“Hey, now we know we can get in touch with her, right?”

He looked up to see that Sam was no longer listening to him. His eyes had fluttered shut, his breath was hitching, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. Dean rolled his eyes. He'd never understood how Sam managed to turn sneezing into such a huge production. Dean's own sneezes weren't all that discreet, sure, but at least they were over fast. With Sam, though, there was no such thing as a simple sneeze. He was oddly shy about it, too, which made it kind of hilarious, although now probably wasn't the right time to tease him about it. Dean bit back a grin and waited.

Sam brought the knuckle of his finger to his nose, turning away on the bed. “Hi'iih... hi'hii'h... hihihiih! Hep-KSHH!” he wrenched to the side, catching the half-stifled sneeze in the crook of his elbow. He groaned again.

“Gesundheit. I'm amazed your head is still attached after that.”

Sam scowled at him. “Yeah. Whatever. Did you find out anything that's remotely of use?”

“Someone's cranky. As a matter of fact, I did. A little digging around got me wind of a girl who died a few years ago when someone... and you're not listening to me. Again.”

Sam's face had gone vacant again, the pre-sneeze expression almost comical as he struggled, chest heaving. “Hiih... hii'iih... hi'iih! Uh...” he sighed as the feeling abated, then scrunched up his face as it surged back to the surface. “Hiih! Hi'iih... hii'ihihiiih! Hep-KSHHH!” He sniffled, his eyes watering.

Dean reached over and grabbed the box of tissues from the night table, handing it to him. “Here. You need these more than I do. So like I was saying,” he continued as Sam blew his nose, wincing as he rubbed the tissues over his raw skin, “I found out about this girl, Meredith Blackwell, who was killed in a hit-and-run a while back. Nothing was ever proved, but the car belonged to her boyfriend's father. Problem is that the boyfriend's family claimed the car was stolen that night —it was found on the side of the road, abandoned, no sign of forced entry, but there was no proof to positively link them to her death. So, case goes unsolved.”

“And now she's out for rev...” Sam's breath hitched, cutting off the last word. His head tilted back, his eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his nose, trying to ward off the sneeze. It didn't work. “Hiih... hi'i'eh! Hi'iih... iihi'iih! Hep-KSHH!” His shoulders shook as his entire body clenched in his attempt to keep the sneeze stifled. “God... 'scuze me.”

“You're excused. And yeah, revenge sounds about right. First guy to go was the boyfriend's dad, who was a notorious drinker, so I'm guessing hit-and-run after he'd hit the road, and she came back for him. Boyfriend was next, and the mother just had a narrow escape last night, most of which you missed 'cause you were too busy sneezing.”

Sam glared at him blearily. “I wasn't that bad.” He scrubbed at his nose.

“Uh, dude? Yes, you were. Good thing this vengeful spirit isn't all that powerful, or else I'd have had two people to save instead of one. Tell me why I'm bothering even talking to you when you're like this?” Dean looked at him in disbelief. “You can't be serious. Again?”

Sam's face had dissolved into a desperate expression with which Dean was getting all too familiar. “G-gonna sneeze agai— hi'eeh!” he stammered. Dean watched, fascinated, as Sam fought with the sneeze: the head tilted back, mouth slack, the whites of his eyes showing beneath fluttering lids, the fabric of his shirt straining under the pull of the short, shallow breaths.

After nearly a minute of this Dean's own nose was beginning to twinge in sympathy, and there was still no sign of Sam's getting any relief. His eyes were streaming, his whole face screwed up with frustration and helplessness, a tissue clutched in both hands. Dean hesitated, then decided it was worth risking losing his arm at the elbow. He leaned forward, reached out and placed his finger under Sam's nose, cutting off his air flow for a few seconds. The tension drained from Sam's body, and he heaved a sigh of relief before gently pushing Dean's hand away, sniffling. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Just don't do it again. My nose is itching like crazy now,” Sam grumbled before changing the subject. “Do we know where she's buried?”

“Cemetery. In a nice grave with a stone and everything. It's even situated a little bit outside of town, so we won't be disturbed.”

Sam smiled. “You mean it's a dirt-simple salt 'n' burn? That simple?”

Dean shook his head, but returned the smile. “Since when is anything ever simple with us? Don't speak too soon, but yeah, that's what it looks like.”

His brother sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, hands behind his head. “It'll be a nice change of pace, compared to the usual apocalypse stuff.”

“Tell me about it. I for one am thoroughly sick and tired of constantly stopping the end of the world. I could use a nice, simple vengeful spirit, with no complications.” Sam sat up suddenly, face slack, reaching blindly to grab a tissue from the box, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, you can't be serious.”

“Hi'iih... hee'iih... hi'ih'iiih! Hep-KSHH!” he wrenched away from Dean, burying his face in the tissue, hands clasped over his mouth and nose. To Dean's considerable surprise, his breath kept hitching. Sam rarely sneezed more than once, which was probably a mercy given how damned long his sneezes took, and how hard he worked to stifle them. “Hii'eeh... hi'ihii'ih! Hep-KSHH! Hep-KSSHH! Huuh!” the last breath took on a vocal, desperate quality, and Sam dissolved into a sneezing fit. “Hep-KSHH! Heh-ISHOO! Heh-ISH! Hi'ih! ISHOO!”

It really was incredible to watch. Sam almost always stifled his sneezes, too shy and awkward to let himself go, even when it was just the two of them. If he wasn't stifling now, then he must be really far gone.

“Heh-ISHOO!” Sam was still going, hunched so far over that his forehead almost hit his knees. “Hii'eeh... ISHOO! Huh! ISHOO! Uh... God... sniff! Heh-ESHOO! ESHOO!” His head reared back, then snapped forward for one last, body-wrenching sneeze. “HAESHOO!” With a groan he let himself fall back on the bed, eyes closed.

“Dude, that was impressive. Didn't know you had it in you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Sam coughed, eyes still closed. “Don't think I won't.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam ruined the moment with another stifled sneeze. “Hi'ih... hi'hiihi'ih! Hep-KSHH!”

“New plan,” Dean stood up. “I'm going to go dig up the girl, then salt and burn her bones. You are going to stay here, take some of this,” he dropped a bottle of cold syrup in Sam's lap, “and wait for me to come back.”

Sam blew his nose into a new tissue. “I'm coming with you. It'll go faster if I help dig.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don't think so, bro. We've been talking, what, ten minutes? And not a single one of those minutes has gone by without you sneezing so hard I'm amazed the top of your head hasn't come off. This one's by the book, no surprises. I'll take my phone, check in every thirty minutes.”

“Fine.” Sam was too exhausted to argue.

“Besides,” Dean grinned, “all that sneezing, you'd probably end up extinguishing the fire.” He ducked out the door just as Sam chucked a pillow at his head.

“Take your cold medicine!” he called from the safety of the other side of the door. Then, jingling his car keys, he made his way to the waiting Impala.

Nothing like a little salt 'n' burn to make the world right again.

:::Edited to add the requisite disclaimers and such at the top of the post, and to change the title of the thread to reflect that this is now a multi-part story.:::

[snuffles]

omg. I .love. your fluff. I just drooled over the keyboard.

I can't write anymore, my brain just fried.

[W.I.N.]

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

~W.I.N.

omg. I .love. your fluff. I just drooled over the keyboard.

I can't write anymore, my brain just fried.

[Aprilcot]

This is so

I adore this!!!!

*melts into puddle and dies from too much heat*

[obsessed]

Mhmm, stupid smile on my face. That was freaking adorable. Beautifully written, as well.

[happysparkleprincess]

love love love love

sick sam is loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

also, loved his sneezes, definitely warm gooeyness!

thank you for sharing

[starpollen]

OH yeah. This is GREAT. Excellent characterization, love the build-ups and the snarky banter.

I hope you've got another bit coming? (pretty please?)

[sfyrist]

This is such a good story! You have the way they talk to one another down pat, and this was just fun right to the end. And I love all the disbelieving "Again?"s.

[LovelyLinda]

Owww!!! Really love that,

you'd better continue otherwise I'll drop dead x)

[W.I.N.]

Glad you liked it! Nice to see your name in my posts again!

~W.I.N.

This is so

I adore this!!!!

*melts into puddle and dies from too much heat*

I'm glad you liked it! Thank you for the nice comment.

~W.I.N.

Mhmm, stupid smile on my face. That was freaking adorable. Beautifully written, as well.

My pleasure!

Sam and Dean just beg for abuse, don't they?

~W.I.N.

love love love love

sick sam is loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

also, loved his sneezes, definitely warm gooeyness!

thank you for sharing

OH yeah. This is GREAT. Excellent characterization, love the build-ups and the snarky banter.

I hope you've got another bit coming? (pretty please?)

Thanks for the lovely comment! I'm glad you think I got the characterization right: the writing on the show is wonderful, especially the banter between the boys, and I spent a lot of time working to make it right.

This was intended as a one-shot, but knowing me I'll probably get bitten by the writing bug sooner rather than later.

~W.I.N.

Mod note: Merged posts

[ID2006]

Yay. I love Supernatural fluff stuff. This was amazing and I can so see Sam sneezing like that.

[a red nine]

Ooh... That was so cute and good! Excellent job!

[mr.moosey]

Gah! I cannot get enough of a well-written Winchester fic!! I can't wait for more.

[le mouchoir]

This has just made my life worlds better. Your descriptions of Sam's desperation are just to die for - too cute!

I can't wait for more!

[W.I.N.]

Thanks! I love the way the Winchesters banter in the show, so I tried to have fun with that. The "again"s I figured would absolutely be something Dean would say. I mean, he's talking, here. Why can't Sam just pay attention?

~W.I.N.

This is such a good story! You have the way they talk to one another down pat, and this was just fun right to the end. And I love all the disbelieving "Again?"s.

I'm very gratified to see people are enjoying this.

Unfortunately, this popped into my head as a one-shot, but I'll see what I can do to accommodate requests in the future.

~W.I.N.

Owww!!! Really love that,

you'd better continue otherwise I'll drop dead x)

Yay! More comment love!

I figured that Sam would be really, really self-conscious about drawing any sort of attention to himself.

~W.I.N.

Yay. I love Supernatural fluff stuff. This was amazing and I can so see Sam sneezing like that.

Thanks! I'm glad so many people are enjoying it.

~W.I.N.

Ooh... That was so cute and good! Excellent job!

Aww, thank you! Let's hope inspiration strikes soon, then.

~W.I.N.

Gah! I cannot get enough of a well-written Winchester fic!! I can't wait for more.

I am very glad I was able to make your day brighter. Certainly the idea of Sam having to fight that hard with himself makes my day, so I'm pleased that I'm not alone.

Cheers!

~W.I.N.

This has just made my life worlds better. Your descriptions of Sam's desperation are just to die for - too cute!

I can't wait for more!

Mod note: Merged posts

[sneezedreamer]

This was just adorable! I just love SPN, and your writing is really good. I adored the descriptions of Sam's sneezes...wanting to be all quiet and polite and sneezing really hard instead. I do hope the writing bug bites you again soon!

[iluvsneezes]

Omg, this story was such a work of art! I love sick Sammy. I hope you'll write some more soon!

[W.I.N.]

Thank you!

I think Sam is quite possibly the cutest thing ever. He's so self-conscious about everything, I figured it would apply to sneezing too.

~W.I.N.

This was just adorable! I just love SPN, and your writing is really good. I adored the descriptions of Sam's sneezes...wanting to be all quiet and polite and sneezing really hard instead. I do hope the writing bug bites you again soon!

Thank you!

I'm getting quite fond of Sick!Sammy as well. If another story suggests itself to me, I'll be sure to post it here.

~W.I.N.

Omg, this story was such a work of art! I love sick Sammy. I hope you'll write some more soon!

Mod note: Merged posts

[W.I.N.]

Okay, you people have inspired me, and so now my one-shot is turning into... uh... more than a one-shot. I officially have a Plot Bunny™ hopping about in my head. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY!

Not too much sneezing in this one, but I promise I will remedy that shortly.

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 2

It was well past midnight when Dean finally finished digging up the remains of poor Meredith Blackwell, and he was panting and lathered in sweat. He'd had to take off his jacket and was working in nothing but a grey t-shirt, now an even darker shade of grey. He stopped to take a breather, leaning heavily on the handle of his shovel. Sam had been right about one thing: grave digging was much easier when two people were doing the job.

He straightened up; break time's over. He jumped back into the grave and pried open the coffin —easier to do since it had been in the ground for a while— then dumped the contents of a decently-sized bag of salt over the remains inside. He tried not to think too hard about the girl whose body inhabited the coffin, tried not to look at the blond hair still attached to the shrunken skull, the ring on the shrivelled left hand (was it a promise ring? Ironic, that.), the book of poems tucked beneath her joined hands. It was always easier when the body was a hundred years old: at least then he never had to imagine that the occupant had been alive and laughing only a year before.

He pulled himself out of the grave, and carefully poured gasoline in behind him, dropped a match inside, then stood over the conflagration, watching the flames lick at the waxy flesh, consuming it, and then attacking the bones themselves, turning them charred and black. The flames always burnt sort of blue, especially toward the end, which he'd always found creepy but sort of beautiful, too, in a way, as though even the fire was sad about what it had to do. Sam had a scientific explanation for it, and Dean would be caught dead before he ever revealed his fantastical notion about the fire having feelings. He'd never live it down.

Once he was sure the whole thing was properly consumed, he set about filling in the grave again, then grabbed his shovel and his jacket, and climbed painfully back into the waiting Impala. He was definitely going to feel this in the morning.

Sam was asleep when he got back, curled up under the cheap motel blanket, cheek resting in the palm of one hand, looking heart-wrenchingly like he had when he was a kid, and he'd no idea that the monsters under the bed were real. Dean checked him carefully for signs of fever, but while he seemed a little warm, he was sleeping soundly. His breathing was rough, even a bit laboured, but that seemed entirely due to the congestion from the cold. Satisfied that Sam was as fine as he was going to get until this cold was done, Dean tossed his clothes into a crumpled pile next to his bed, slid under the sheets, and was asleep in minutes.

When he awoke, he found Sam's bed empty and light streaming in through the filthy window. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he gazed about blearily, identifying the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, and realized that he'd been hearing it for quite some time. He was about to get worried when the sound abruptly stopped, and he heard Sam shuffling about in the bathroom, coughing every few minutes. Pulling on his jeans, he went and rapped sharply on the door.

“Hey, Cinderella! You better not have used up all the hot water in there!” Sam didn't answer, and he knocked harder. “Sam? You hear me?”

“Hep-KSHH!”

Well, that answered his question. Dean couldn't hear most of what was going on in there (and that was probably a good thing), but the sneeze could be heard quite clearly through the door. Obviously Sam hadn't been miraculously cured overnight, he thought with a sigh. He sat down on his bed, and waited for his brother to relinquish the damned bathroom, already.

“Hep-KSHH!” Another wet-sounding stifle, and Dean shook his head, smiling to himself. Even locked in a bathroom by himself, Sammy couldn't relax enough to sneeze normally. He was probably hunched over the sink, fighting each sneeze for every single inch of ground. A moment later and he broke into a fit of harsh, barking coughs, and Dean winced in sympathy. Finally, just when he was wondering if he ought to get up and check on him again, Sam emerged from the bathroom, looking clean, if red-eyed and haggard.

“Good morning,” Dean greeted him jovially. “Did you leave me any hot water at all?”

He got a noncommittal grunt as his only answer, and Sam pulled a grey hoodie over his t-shirt, shivering a bit in the cool autumn air. The cheap motel hadn't bothered to turn on the heating yet, much to Dean's annoyance. Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but with Sam sick he'd rather have had the room warmer. Well, it wasn't important now, they were checking out anyway.

“I'll take that as a no, then. I'll grab a quick shower, then we can check out, go to breakfast, and I'll show you those articles I was telling you about. Sam. Sammy? You with me?” he snapped his fingers in Sam's general direction, then sighed as he saw the reason for his brother's silence. “It's going to be a long day.”

Sam's head tilted back slightly, eyelids fluttering, chest heaving with short, rapid breaths. Unconsciously he'd raised his right hand so that the knuckles of his index finger brushed ever so lightly against the underside of his nose, although whether it was to coax the sneeze out or keep it in, Dean couldn't quite tell. “Iih... hii'iih... hihhii'ih! Snif! H'iih... i'iihii'ihiih... hiih!” His face crumpled, and he buried his nose and mouth in the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hep-KSHH!”

“Gesundheit.”

“Thagks.” The word came out as a croak, and Sam busied himself packing their few belongings away.

“Jesus, dude, you sound like a frog.”

“Bide be.” Sam coughed hard into a clenched fist, and Dean felt a little guilty. Only a little, mind you.

“Okay. Give me ten minutes and I'll take you to breakfast, get some orange juice or something into you.”

Sam's gaze had already gone vacant, his mouth slack, and Dean left him alone to sneeze to his heart's content. He left the bathroom door open a crack, just so he could keep an eye —or rather an ear— out, just in case.

“Sniff! Hi'iih... hiihii'ihiih! Sniff! Hiih! Hep-KSHH!” Sam groaned softly, and Dean heard him blow his nose repeatedly, although he was trying to keep quiet.

After a lightning shower and only the most cursory attempt at shaving, Dean was more than ready to go. “Come on, Sneezy. Let's hit the road. I'll even buy you waffles.”

If there was any indication that Sam was grateful for his peace offering, Dean couldn't see it. Well, maybe a short stack of pancakes would cheer his brother up. That, and bacon. Bacon cured most, if not all of the world's ills. Whistling, he sauntered over to the Impala, and even opened the door for Sam.

After all, who said chivalry was dead?

:::Edited to fix a GIANT CONTINUITY ERROR. Eesh. Also to fix a couple of typos, some formatting, and to add a chapter number. :::

[W.I.N.]

Uh, okay. Stupid question time:

How do I edit the main post so that it will reflect the fact that I'm updating the story? Also, I totally forgot to put a proper introduction on this (still not used to writing fanfic, I guess!).

Help?

Thanks in advance,

~W.I.N.

[crazy_cat_girl]

Hooray! I am so glad you're continuing! This is great. And the potential for contagion is totally there...

Love how Dean is so on top of taking care of Sam. It's just perfect.

[obsessed]

... YESSS.

I'm not sure if you have editing powers yet-- but if you want, you can always ask one of the mods.

That asides, I'm absolutely in love with your writing and the Supernatural is my latest obsession. <333

[Lady Blessington]

I'm really more of a Dean girl, but I saw all long, drawn-out sneeze spellings and had to check this out. So much gaspy elaborate goodness! I loved it!

[iluvsneezes]

I loved the new chapter of your story!

[W.I.N.]

Thanks!

And, uh, *cough* the thought of contagion did, I'll admit, cross my mind...

~W.I.N.

Hooray! I am so glad you're continuing! This is great. And the potential for contagion is totally there...

Love how Dean is so on top of taking care of Sam. It's just perfect.

Hmm. I don't think I have these incredible Editing Powers™ of which you speak. Does that happen after a certain number of posts, like validating an account, or do I have to do something specific (wave dead chickens above my keyboard, offer a libation to the mods, etc.)?

I'm glad you enjoyed my little story. I will try to keep going over the next few days.

~W.I.N.

... YESSS.

I'm not sure if you have editing powers yet-- but if you want, you can always ask one of the mods.

That asides, I'm absolutely in love with your writing and the Supernatural is my latest obsession. <333

Weirdly enough, I'm more of a Dean girl myself as well, but apparently whatever Muse decided to beat me over the head with this story decided that Sam was getting sick first.

I don't think I'll be neglecting Dean for too long, though...

~W.I.N.

I'm really more of a Dean girl, but I saw all long, drawn-out sneeze spellings and had to check this out. So much gaspy elaborate goodness! I loved it!

Thank you!

~W.I.N.

I loved the new chapter of your story!

Mod note: Merged posts