Not The Demons You're Looking For - (24 Parts)

[W.I.N.]

We're almost done, folks!

Early(ish) installment today because I may not be home tonight.

Happy New Year, everyone!

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 23

“Dean!” Sam fought to keep his balance under his brother's dead weight, braced himself against the wall.

Dr. Nichols pushed past the orderlies to crouch down next to them, but Dean's eyes were already fluttering, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Dean, you with me?”

A brief nod, and his brother forced open his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. Gimme a hand up?”

“Way ahead of you, dude. Up you get,” Sam hoisted him bodily onto the gurney. “You going to cooperate with the nice doctor this time?”

“Don't patronize me,” Dean let his head fall back onto the thin padding, sweat beading on his face.

“Hey, I'm not the one who was threatening to gut the orderlies with a scalpel.”

Dean coughed. “Totally had it coming,” he mumbled. “Askin' for it, Sammy.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Sure, they were. You're lucky we're not getting sued.”

“Lucky, yeah. That's me.”

Dr. Nichols got up, smoothing her rumpled lab coat. “If you two are quite done?” She tried to pull the oxygen mask over Dean's face, only to be repelled again by a firmly-placed hand, and Sam sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Dean, come on.”

“Hate that shit, Sam,” he complained weakly. “Smothering.”

“Dean,” Dr. Nichols said gently, “I need you to keep the mask on for a few minutes at least, okay? You breathed in a lot of smoke, and I don't like the sound of that cough. I want to make sure you're getting enough oxygen, okay? You,” she said sternly to Sam, “sit. Now.” Sam sank obediently into his wheelchair.

“It's not the smoke. I just have a cold. I'm feeling better, anyway,” Dean protested.

“Dude, just do what she says, okay? For once, would you not be difficult?”

Grumbling, Dean did as he was told, submitted to the mask, barely flinched when the doctor came at him with a stethoscope and a thermometer. “You said you weren't feeling well?”

“Just a cold,” he said, muffled by the mask. As if to illustrate his point he sat up, breath hitching, pulled the mask to the side, and cupped his hands over his nose and mouth. “HAPKSCHH!” he winced, pulled the mask back into place, lay back on the gurney. “See? I'm being good. Promise.”

“Uh-huh,” she hooked the stethoscope around her neck again. “Sounds like it might be more than that to me. How long have you been running that high a fever?” Dean muttered something, but his voice had all but given out, and the mask made his reply unintelligible.

“He's been sick for a few days, got caught in the rain earlier today. Uh, make that yesterday,” Sam said quietly, glancing at his watch. “The fever started in the afternoon, and I think it spiked in the late evening, right before the fire. I can't be sure how long, I wasn't with him, then.”

“Okay. I'm going to admit you overnight,” she said, addressing them both. “I want to keep an eye on that concussion, and it sounds to me as though you,” she looked sharply at Dean, “have a couple of pretty nasty infections incubating in there. We'll get you hooked up with some of the good stuff, clear that up in no time.”

“He's prone to sinus infections,” Sam supplied, and she nodded, as though she wasn't surprised.

Dean shifted, glared at him, twisted aside and pulled off his mask to sneeze into his cupped hands again. “Hih... HHEISHH! HEISTCHUH! Huh... HUISHH!”

“So much for feeling better, huh?” Sam patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Shud up.”

“And the congestion's making a comeback, I see. Dude, I gotta say, it sucks to be you,” Sam gently tried to pull the mask back into place, but Dean pulled away, hands still over his nose and mouth.

“Uh... cad I ged a dissue?”

Sam grinned, grabbed a box that was sitting next to the tiny sink, plucked a handful of tissues so his brother could blow his nose.

“Aww, bad... id's full of soot. Dasty...” Dean complained. Sam liberated the used tissues, dropped them into the trash can, motioned to the mask, and with a roll of his eyes Dean put it back on. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Sam looked up at the doctor. “Uh... about getting admitted... we, uh, we don't exactly have insurance. In fact, I'm pretty sure we can't even afford the couple of hours we've been here already.”

She looked honestly surprised. “What? Oh, no. Don't worry about that, honey. That's all been taken care of. Everything's fine.”

“What?”

Dean swept his right hand in a small arc, his left holding onto the oxygen mask. “I'b guessig, 'dot the droids they're lookig for,' Sabby.”

“Huh. Okay. Remind me to thank Andy later. Is he still here?” he asked, turning back to Dr. Nichols.

“Your friend? Yes, I think he's in the waiting room. We'll let him in as soon as we have the two of you settled in a room.”

“Together?”

“Well, sure. We happened to have a free room, so it was easy enough to arrange. Your friend Andy said it was the best way to keep the two of you out of trouble, and after your little display,” she said, looking at Dean, “I'm beginning to think he might be right. Why don't you go join him, catch him up, while I finish up here with Dean?” she gave Sam a look that dared him to argue with her. Dean stiffened on the bed, his eyes betraying his anxiety, and Sam squeezed his hand.

“I'll be right outside, okay? Dr. Nichols is cool, you'll be fine.” There was an answering squeeze, barely a twitch of Dean's fingers, and he gave an imperceptible nod. “Don't worry. I won't be far.”

Dr. Nichols gave him another don't-mess-with-me look. “I don't want you out of that wheelchair again, you hear me?”

“No ma'am. I mean, yes ma'am, I hear you.” Sam gave her a nervous smile, backed out of the room. What was it with them and scary maternal figures, anyway? Once he was clear of the examination room, though, he quitted the chair, which wasn't exactly designed for a six-foot-four frame. His head was throbbing mercilessly after all the excitement, and he briefly regretted his decision to stand up. He made his way slowly into the waiting room, where he found Andy pacing in circles near a low table piled with out-of-date magazines.

“Sam, hey!” Andy darted forward to greet him. “You okay? What are you doing up? Sit down,” he pulled him over to one of the waiting room chairs. “You shouldn't even be out here.”

“Relax, Andy,” Sam let himself be pushed into a chair, figuring it wasn't worth putting up a fight over this, and besides, his head was ringing like a kettledrum. “I just got kicked out of Dean's room so the doctor can check him out.”

“I heard a hell of a ruckus before. Was that him?”

Sam grinned and shrugged. “How'd you know?”

“Lucky guess. Are you sure you're okay? Honestly, I thought you were dead. You were in the fire for a really long time before Dean pulled you out.”

“Really, I'm okay. Surprisingly okay, considering. My head is killing me, but I think I got off lightly. What about Lesley and the kids?”

“They're fine. Lesley's got a couple of scrapes, the kids don't have a mark on them. They've already been discharged.”

“That was fast.”

Andy grinned and shrugged. “Small town. And, you know, I'm pretty persuasive when I want to be. Got them priority treatment.”

“Speaking of which... thank you.”

“What for?”

“You know, squaring away this whole hospital thing.” Sam gestured vaguely to their surroundings.

“Oh, yeah. You know. Not a big stretch for me. Uh,” Andy lowered his voice conspiratorially, “that gun? The antique one? I put it back in the trunk of your car. Just so you know. Almost had to break Dean's fingers to get him to let go, he was out cold and had a death-grip on it. I thought you should know, in case he remembers he had it and freaks out when he finds it gone.”

“He brought the Colt?” Sam started, winced as the movement sent pain lancing through his skull, pressed a hand to the side of his head. “Ow,” he breathed, then pulled himself together. “Okay, well, as long as it's safe...”

“You want me to get someone?”

“No, it's okay. I just need a second...” He leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes against the harsh glare of hospital lighting. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew someone was saying his name.

“Sam?” Dr. Nichols was standing, arms folded, clipboard in hand, looking disapprovingly at him, and he felt incongruously like a school kid getting detention from a teacher. “I seem to recall saying something about staying in the wheelchair.”

He ducked his head sheepishly, grinned, looking up at her from under his bangs. “Sorry. It's just... really uncomfortable. I'm sitting down, though, right? That has to count for something?”

She snorted. “Damn, and I thought your brother was exaggerating about the puppy dog eyes.” Sam felt a flush creep up his neck. “Come with me, I'll fill you in on your brother's condition.”

Andy tapped him on the arm. “They're not letting me stay. I mean, they told me visiting hours aren't until tomorrow anyway, and there's not much point in my hanging around the waiting room. I'll come back tomorrow, bring you some stuff, okay?”

“Thanks, Andy.” Sam patted his shoulder, bit back a groan as he pushed himself upright, followed the doctor back to his wheelchair and meekly sat down in it again. “How's Dean?”

“Better than he has any right to be. You were right about the sinus infection, and he's got a wicked case of bronchitis on top of the smoke inhalation. He's bruised, singed around the edges, but apart from that, he's fine. I'm definitely admitting the both of you overnight, just for observation, and so we can work on getting your brother's fever down to manageable levels. You can go in,” she motioned to the door. “Sit tight, I'll be back once I've dealt with the paperwork.”

She turned on her heel, leaving them by themselves for the first time in hours, and Sam wheeled himself back to Dean's side. He was lying perfectly still for the first time that evening, looking small and pale and bruised, and Sam swallowed hard, trying not to betray his sudden anxiety. “How you doing?” Sam rubbed his arm. “Jesus, it's like patting a radiator. Did they give you anything?”

“Beed bedder,” Dean rasped, barely audible under the oxygen mask. “Doctor's goig to gibe be the good sduff. Thigk I'b bostly ogkay. Hey, did you kdow adredalide's a decodgestadt?” He rolled his eyes. “I was fide for, ligke, ad leasdt two hours.” His voice cracked, and he held the mask firmly in place with his left hand, coughing. “Feel ligke shit, Sab,” he finally admitted.

Sam smoothed his hand over his brother's forehead, saw his eyelids start to droop. “Yeah, well, they'll pump you full of antibiotics, and you'll be good to go. Try to get some sleep, okay? I figure it'll be a while before we get to our room.”

“Yeah. 'kay.”

Sam settled himself as comfortably as he could in his wheelchair as Dean's breathing evened out into sleep, prepared himself for what promised to be a long night of waiting.

*****

[obsessed]

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US WIN?!?

As always, this was adorablee. And the puppy dog eyes were killer.

But I keep wondering about this demon... and Andy...

So I must say, your writing and SF are incredible put together.

Best wishes to a freaking fantastic 2010!

[starpollen]

Yeah. Second favorite chapter so far. I love sick boys. (Yeah. *really* sick boys... I'm evil!... bwahaha! )

Thank you!! And Happy New Year!

[ID2006]

Yay!!!!!! I was so looking forward for something to read this morning and this definitely did not disappoint.

[W.I.N.]

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US WIN?!?

As always, this was adorablee. And the puppy dog eyes were killer.

But I keep wondering about this demon... and Andy...

So I must say, your writing and SF are incredible put together.

Best wishes to a freaking fantastic 2010!

Thank you!

Don't worry, I'm wrapping everything up nice and tidy (sort of) in the next chapter.

Yeah. Second favorite chapter so far. I love sick boys. (Yeah. *really* sick boys... I'm evil!... bwahaha! )

Thank you!! And Happy New Year!

Thank you for the lovely comment, and Happy New Year to you too!

Yay!!!!!! I was so looking forward for something to read this morning and this definitely did not disappoint.

Oh, good, I'm glad to hear it.

~W.I.N.

[iluvsneezes]

Another great installment, you are such an awesome writer!! Happy New Year.

[Lady Blessington]

Fainting!Dean, paranoid!feverish!Dean, Dean taking off the oxygen mask to sneeze his overheated brains out, the steady gentle playful concernedness of Sam, Dr. Nichol and her white-grey braid... these were so good! "It's like patting a radiator"... hehehee.

[W.I.N.]

Another great installment, you are such an awesome writer!! Happy New Year.

Thank you! Happy New Year to you too!

Fainting!Dean, paranoid!feverish!Dean, Dean taking off the oxygen mask to sneeze his overheated brains out, the steady gentle playful concernedness of Sam, Dr. Nichol and her white-grey braid... these were so good! "It's like patting a radiator"... hehehee.

Poor Dean. As if everything else wasn't bad enough, he's still all sneezy and miserable.

Glad you liked it.

~W.I.N.

[W.I.N.]

This is the end!

Thank you to everyone who stuck with me this far and left such lovely encouraging comments. It's been a blast, and I am really very sad that it's all over now.

For the curious, the story now sits at 49,718 words. Yikes! It's actually the length of a (very) short novel.

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 24

Andy came to get them the next day, brought a bag with fresh clothes to their room. “Well, uh, it's stopped raining. So that's good news, right?”

Dean was still asleep, one arm fallen loosely over his chest. The pure oxygen had been stopped early that morning, after x-rays had confirmed that he hadn't suffered lasting harm from the smoke, and that in spite of the horrific cough he'd developed as a result of the cold, he didn't have pneumonia either. He'd spent a miserable night coughing, sneezing and shivering with fever, asking the same questions over and over, and between that and the concussion Sam hadn't gotten much sleep either. He'd spent most of the night in the chair next to Dean's bed, dozing fitfully and ignoring the doctors' admonitions to go to bed, figuring that if he was going to be awoken every hour on the hour anyway, he might as well make use of the time and keep an eye on his brother. Dean had been pumped full of saline and antipyretics, prescribed antibiotics for what seemed like the next month. Finally he'd managed to fall into a restful sleep in the early hours of the morning, and overall things were looking up. Sam couldn't remember a time he'd been happier to be in a hospital. He'd taken advantage of the hospital shower —the water pressure was bad, but if he spent another moment feeling as though he was covered in soot and blood, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions— taking care not to get the bandage around his head wet.

“Yeah, that is good news.” Cured a long time ago of any sense of modesty by living in close proximity with Dean twenty-four hours a day, Sam stripped out of the hospital scrubs and gratefully pulled on clothing that wasn't two sizes too small. His hair was still sticking out at odd angles under the bandage, but there was nothing he could do about that just now. He reached out and smoothed the back of his fingers against his brother's cheek, knowing this was one of the few times he could get away with it. “Hey, Dean, wake up.”

After a moment Dean stirred, stared up at him groggily. “Hey, Sabby. Wha's happedig?” His voice was still mostly gone, but he wasn't sounding as hoarse and desperate as the night before. Sam made a mental note to pick up more lozenges for him as soon as he could.

“Andy's here. You feeling up to getting the hell out of this place?”

“Hell, yeah. Hade hosbidals.” He struggled to a sitting position, sneezed into the crook of his elbow. “HPTSCHH! Uh... sud of a bitch. HHUISHOO! Uh... cobe od! I already saved the day,” he groaned, rubbed at his face with both hands. “Id's dot f-fair thad I s-sdill feel this crappy. HEPTSCHUH!”

“Bless.” Andy gave him a commiserative grimace, and Sam just shook his head.

“Dude, you spent all of yesterday fighting off a fever, then went out in the rain and dragged four people out of a fire. How did you think you were going to feel today?”

Dean leaned his elbows on his knees, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and let his head fall into his hands. “Did't thigk about id too hard... hih... uh! HISHOO!” He scrubbed at his nose with the back of his wrist. “Sab... I had the Colt with be...”

“It's safe, don't worry.” Sam reassured him, a little worried that he didn't appear to remember the other three times he'd asked after it that night. Dean just nodded, as though confirming something to himself.

“Everyode god out safe?”

“Yeah, man. We're all fine.”

“Good.”

Andy put the bundle of fresh clothes in his lap. “Your chariot awaits, once you're dressed. Are you feeling even a little bit better?”

Dean shrugged, not looking up. “I guess. Dot feelig ligke I'b about to chogke to death or adythig. Thad's a plus. Ad by chest doesd't hurdt as buch. So, yeah. Feelig bedder. Tired, bostly.”

“If you want to spend another day, take advantage of the awesome I.V. drugs, hit on the hot nurses, that's not a problem.” Sam felt his face scrunch into a worried expression; it wasn't like Dean to admit to feeling tired, let alone anything else.

Dean shook his head slowly, extended a hand. “Doh way. I'b outta here.”

Sam took his outstretched hand and hauled him to his feet, steadying him when he wavered. “You sure? You're still running a hell of a fever.”

“Dothing I cad't sleep off id a bed thad's dot id a hosbidal.” He leaned against the bed, changed clumsily into the clothes, as immune to embarrassment as Sam by now, although Sam noted with amusement that Andy had looked away both times, staring intently at what was obviously a fascinating spot on the wall. Dean noticed, too, and grinned. “Dude, id's dothig you haved't seed before. Chill.” He wrenched aside, breath hitching. “Hih... ISHOO! HEPTSCHH!”

“Uh-huh. Look, I got your discharge and all that taken care of. Bless, by the way.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Taken care of?”

“Yeah. Let's just say that your paperwork got mysteriously misplaced, so there isn't a record you were ever here. Also, most of the people here don't remember you all that well.”

“I really hope you're psychic thigg doesd't cause braid cadcer id the logg rud,” Dean muttered. “That would sugck.” He made a show about protesting having to leave the hospital in a wheelchair, but in the end he folded like a bad poker hand. Sam could see he was exhausted, and there was the barest tremor to his hands, a weakness he never would never have allowed himself to show under ordinary circumstances. He fell asleep in the van on the way home, barely roused enough to let Sam help him into the house and settle him on the sofa, where he promptly fell asleep again, curled up under a blanket, head pillowed on his hand.

“You ever tell him I said this, I will disavow all knowledge of it, but he kind of looks cute like that,” Andy said quietly.

Sam felt his lips quirk into a smile, and couldn't help but agree. Even with the remnants of soot on his face and his hair sticking out at odd angles, his brother still managed to pull off the look. “I won't tell him. He'd probably kill me just for thinking it. Or at the very least he'd put me in a headlock and rub my nose in the carpet until I surrendered and agreed out loud that I'm a girl.” He followed Andy into the kitchen. “Oh, thank God, you made coffee. That stuff at the hospital is unspeakably gross.”

Andy chuckled. “So I hear. You know you guys are welcome to stay as long as you like, right?”

Unconsciously Sam glanced over his shoulder back toward the living room. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. I don't think it's a good idea for Dean to be going anywhere for a few days at least. Really, thank you. You've done more for us in the past couple of days than most people ever did for us in a lifetime.”

“No problem,” Andy actually blushed. “For one thing, I like you guys. Besides, you did me a solid favour, coming in on this.”

He shrugged. “We never did figure out anything about those deaths, though, other than that it's probably related to the demon.”

“Any theories? I'm just curious at this point.”

“My best guess?” Sam took a drink of his coffee. “It's creating havoc. With people, with the weather, with whatever it can get away with. It creates an atmosphere of terror, moves in for the kill after a while.”

Andy shuddered, changed the subject so abruptly that Sam let the matter drop. “So, anyway, Lesley called this morning.”

Sam felt a twinge of guilt at that: he hadn't given Lesley or her family much thought since the night before. “How's she doing?”

Andy shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess. She and the kids are staying with her sister, her husband's flying in on the first plane, but he won't be here until this afternoon. Something about a connecting flight being delayed. Anyway, she wanted to come by later on, to say thank you properly.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” Andy said sharply. “I don't know what's going on in your head, but you know you saved her life, right? You and Dean?”

“Yeah, I know. I just... I feel like everywhere I go, people just keep dying, or... I don't know.” He slumped in a chair, stared morosely at the steaming cup in front of him.

“No one died, Sam. You did everything you could, and it worked out.”

“I know.”

“Doesn't sound like it to me. Look, this thing, this demon or whatever, it's had people like you and your dad going after it for a really long time. You said yourself it was really powerful, right? I mean, look what it did to us, to our families, our friends... You and Dean might be really good at what you do, but you're only two people. You've already saved a bunch of people from this thing.” Andy stopped, dropped into a chair in front of him. “I'm not getting through, am I? Of all the people who needs whammying, and you're immune to it. Figures.”

Sam laughed. “Well, you get an 'A' for effort. I get it, I do. I promise.”

“All right. Just so long as you try to remember it every so often, okay?” Andy grinned, and Sam found himself returning the grin.

“Sure.” He grabbed his cup of coffee. “I ought to go check on Dean. Make sure he's okay.”

“Okay, but I'm sure he's fine. I doubt he'll be waking up any time soon. He was out like a light.”

“I know. I just... I need to make sure he's okay. He's had a rough time of it lately. Even before he got sick.”

“Yeah, he sort of hinted at that yesterday.”

“He did?” Sam couldn't hide quite how astonished he was. Dean wasn't exactly the caring-and-sharing type, as he put it.

“Sort of,” Andy shrugged. “He wasn't exactly coherent, so I kind of feel bad even telling you about this. Kind of feels like I'm violating the confessional, you know? Like I'm taking advantage of the delirious guy while he can't defend himself. Okay, that came out sounding way creepier and more perverted than I wanted, but you know what I mean.” Andy squirmed.

Sam nodded, took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I understand. Uh... was any of it something that sounded like it was going to put us in immediate danger?” He felt a twist of guilt as he asked: Dean guarded his thoughts jealously, and he'd be humiliated and furious to be exposed like this.

“No, nothing like that. I'd tell you if it was. He just... talked a lot. About you, about your dad, and when the fever got really bad he raved about you and your dad and the demon and fire and...” Andy hesitated, drummed his fingers on the table, visibly came to a decision, nodding to himself. “And your mother.”

It hit Sam like a physical blow. “What?”

“I probably shouldn't even tell you that much. But...he's hurting, you know. It's not hard to see. And... I figure you're the only guy who can help him with it. If it were anyone else I'd just get him baked and that would be the end of it. But it's not like he's the type to open up, right?”

“Yeah, no,” Sam let out a huff of air that was half a laugh, half a sob. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out just what to do with this whole new weight Andy had just dropped in his lap. “Thanks. For telling me.”

“No problem. Hey, I like you guys. Kind of want the two of you to make it, you know? Score one for the good guys.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He stood, made his way to the living room, careful not to make any noise. He had the impression, though, that he could have brought in a marching band and Dean wouldn't have budged, knocked out by fever, exhaustion and industrial-strength painkillers. He was breathing evenly, though, and apart from the flush of fever it looked as though he was truly resting for the first time in recent memory. Sam pulled up a chair, let himself reach out and run his fingers through Dean's short-cropped hair, felt ridiculously relieved when the gesture didn't awaken him.

He settled in the chair to wait, content for now to watch his brother sleep.

END

[starpollen]

Yay! Great ending. Leaves it open for a sequel

Thanks for the amazing Great Whacking Fic!

[W.I.N.]

Yay! Great ending. Leaves it open for a sequel

Thanks for the amazing Great Whacking Fic!

Hee!

Well, I kind of imagined it sandwiched in between two episodes, one of which is the Season 2 finale, so maybe not. That doesn't mean I won't be writing more stories, though.

~W.I.N.

[ID2006]

Well, I'm sad to see it over.... but on the other hand, that means you can start another one

*waits as patiently as possible*

[W.I.N.]

Well, I'm sad to see it over.... but on the other hand, that means you can start another one

*waits as patiently as possible*

LOL

You are insatiable!

I'm glad you liked it enough to want more, though.

~W.I.N.

[MusicaDiabolos]

Adorable ending I just adore Sam and Andy, I was so upset in the season 2 finale with what happened to them...

[W.I.N.]

I know. Andy was such a sweet kid, I was really sad when he died. All the other psychic kids were kind of psycho, but Andy was a real sweetheart. It never occurred to me to write about him until I saw the prompt by mads3rv3r, but then he kind of popped into my brain and was a total joy to write.

~W.I.N.

Adorable ending I just adore Sam and Andy, I was so upset in the season 2 finale with what happened to them...

[LOSTfreak]

This story made me all kinds of happy! The ending especially warmed my heart. You write the characters so well and come up with the most intriguing story lines, and I will probably read this over and over and over, even though I already know how it ends now. You're writing is brilliant, thank you so much for sharing it with us!

[W.I.N.]

Thank you. I'm really glad you liked it. It's especially flattering to think you'll be re-reading it.

I'm working on other non sneezefic stuff right now, but I'm sure I'll get back to it sooner rather than later.

~W.I.N.

This story made me all kinds of happy! The ending especially warmed my heart. You write the characters so well and come up with the most intriguing story lines, and I will probably read this over and over and over, even though I already know how it ends now. You're writing is brilliant, thank you so much for sharing it with us!

[iluvsneezes]

Well, I kind of imagined it sandwiched in between two episodes, one of which is the Season 2 finale, so maybe not. That doesn't mean I won't be writing more stories, though.

Omg, you better write more!!! This was excellent, btw. It's a shame it's completed though.

[W.I.N.]

Omg, you better write more!!! This was excellent, btw. It's a shame it's completed though.

LOL. Glad you liked it. I'm sort of sorry it's over too.

~W.I.N.

[Guest dreamlitnight]

That was beyond lovely. Every element was in there... action, angst, lots of sneezy sickness and brotherly schmoop. I just found this site (madserver recommended) Yay! Thank you. Thank you for sharing this terrific tale. It was a supremely satisfying saga of snuffly squee-ness. I love alliteration a little too much, huh? hehe. What a way to start off 2010. Happy New Year! *throws confetti* ;0)

[W.I.N.]

Hello and welcome!

This is a really great forum, I'm glad mads3rv3r pointed you our way.

Thanks for the lovely comment!

~W.I.N.

That was beyond lovely. Every element was in there... action, angst, lots of sneezy sickness and brotherly schmoop. I just found this site (madserver recommended) Yay! Thank you. Thank you for sharing this terrific tale. It was a supremely satisfying saga of snuffly squee-ness. I love alliteration a little too much, huh? hehe. What a way to start off 2010. Happy New Year! *throws confetti* ;0)

[obsessed]

AWWW.

On another note, I must say this.

ANGST. <3

Wow, almost 50k. And I read every word and loved it all. You're an incredible writer, and to be able to update that quickly with some quality beauty... wow. That's incredible. Thanks a ton for that effort, with a few more you've got yourself a NNWM book.

Beautiful writing, and happy 2010!

Beautiful ending. Or is it an ending?

[W.I.N.]

AWWW.

On another note, I must say this.

ANGST. <3

Wow, almost 50k. And I read every word and loved it all. You're an incredible writer, and to be able to update that quickly with some quality beauty... wow. That's incredible. Thanks a ton for that effort, with a few more you've got yourself a NNWM book.

Beautiful writing, and happy 2010!

Beautiful ending. Or is it an ending?

Yeah, it did get pretty angst-filled, didn't it? Then again, the show is pretty angsty, so I think it could be justified.

I was a couple hundred words shy of NaNoWriMo, yeah. Looks like I made it twice in one year!

Thank you so much for sticking with me all this way and for all your lovely and encouraging comments. They were a huge factor in motivating me to keep going.

This is the end of this story, for sure, although obviously the show keeps going. If you haven't watched it then you should.

Happy New Year to you too!

~W.I.N.

[Lady Blessington]

50K! So... much.... goodness....

I loved Dean all massively sneezy and feverish and exhausted in the last chapter, too wobbly to actually want to make the trip out of the hospital under his own steam and then falling asleep in the van and on Andy's couch under a blanket. Andy trying to make Sam feel better about things over coffee was also megasweet.

Sneezy Dean, Andy and Sam loving him up together, fainting and feverishness and wobbliness and THE JAMMIES. You made me a really happy kid with this! Did I say thank you? Because thank you.

*crazy mad smishes*

[W.I.N.]

50K! So... much.... goodness....

I loved Dean all massively sneezy and feverish and exhausted in the last chapter, too wobbly to actually want to make the trip out of the hospital under his own steam and then falling asleep in the van and on Andy's couch under a blanket. Andy trying to make Sam feel better about things over coffee was also megasweet.

Sneezy Dean, Andy and Sam loving him up together, fainting and feverishness and wobbliness and THE JAMMIES. You made me a really happy kid with this! Did I say thank you? Because thank you.

*crazy mad smishes*

*smishes you back*

You're welcome. This story was a real pleasure to write.

I'm actually pretty sad it's over.

~W.I.N.