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

[LOSTfreak]

You spoil me . His cold is coming along so nicely! Bwah ha ha! Since I was ditzy and forgot to comment on the Heroes reference in part 13, I'm going to do it now. I love the Heroes reference!

[ooo]

First, an apology: I've been semi-reading your fics for since you started writing but have been tryyyiinng to stop myself (not that it ever worked for long), to watch some Supernatural so I could appreciate them better...so sorry for not commenting while you were writing

But! I'm here now, and wanted to say: Wow. Just, wow. I love your stories, how you manage to write so fast and still with such quality, and I LOVE the way you manage to simultaneously write sneeze-fic ( ) and plot-fic, with themes and clever writing and spot-on characterisation. So, thank you for your wonderful stories, and very much looking forward to the rest of this one!

[crazy_cat_girl]

Oh, my goodness...

I must be in just the right place for reading this because thinking of Dean cooing over the baby totally made me misty-eyed. And then he sneezed into his jacket, all protective-like.

Thank you for keeping updates coming. I look forward to them so much and reading your new chapter is the best part of my day!

[Lady Blessington]

Something about the consistency with which you post, and the length of the chapters, and the pinch-me-because-how-is-this-even-happening amazingness of the content, and the talking about it, makes this seem like an honest-to-God bedtime story in the snuggliest, warmest, happiest way.

Seeing sick Dean through Sam's eyes for some reason always seems to hit me harder than seeing him through his own. Equals even more love than usual for this chapter. I love love love too that even though he's getting sicker and sicker, he's still sneezing his face off. I find the sneezing trails off in most fics. But not so with this. Equals. Pinch me.

Besides, I still have that allergy prompt you gave for the h/c meme that's simmering at the back of my mind.

*flails*

*chokes*

*mauls you with hugs*

*composes self*

*adjusts your shirt*

Sneezy Dean, expertly and of his own accord and in secret, soothing a baby?! This fic is so many kinds of adorable!

And now chills... which sometimes lead to forehead feels......

Mod Note: Merged posts ~Mute

[obsessed]

Awww, freaking adorable. I love how the plot continues to develop too. Cuteee.

[W.I.N.]

You spoil me . His cold is coming along so nicely! Bwah ha ha! Since I was ditzy and forgot to comment on the Heroes reference in part 13, I'm going to do it now. I love the Heroes reference!

Hee! I thought of you when I wrote that. Figured you at least would get a kick out of it.

First, an apology: I've been semi-reading your fics for since you started writing but have been tryyyiinng to stop myself (not that it ever worked for long), to watch some Supernatural so I could appreciate them better...so sorry for not commenting while you were writing

But! I'm here now, and wanted to say: Wow. Just, wow. I love your stories, how you manage to write so fast and still with such quality, and I LOVE the way you manage to simultaneously write sneeze-fic ( ) and plot-fic, with themes and clever writing and spot-on characterisation. So, thank you for your wonderful stories, and very much looking forward to the rest of this one!

Wow, thank you! I highly encourage people to watch "Supernatural," but I can't exactly complain that you've been reading my stories instead.

Oh, my goodness...

I must be in just the right place for reading this because thinking of Dean cooing over the baby totally made me misty-eyed. And then he sneezed into his jacket, all protective-like.

Thank you for keeping updates coming. I look forward to them so much and reading your new chapter is the best part of my day!

You people are going to make my heart melt.

Dean kind of surprised me by going all gooshy over the baby, but it sort of makes sense, too.

Something about the consistency with which you post, and the length of the chapters, and the pinch-me-because-how-is-this-even-happening amazingness of the content, and the talking about it, makes this seem like an honest-to-God bedtime story in the snuggliest, warmest, happiest way.

Seeing sick Dean through Sam's eyes for some reason always seems to hit me harder than seeing him through his own. Equals even more love than usual for this chapter. I love love love too that even though he's getting sicker and sicker, he's still sneezing his face off. I find the sneezing trails off in most fics. But not so with this. Equals. Pinch me.

Wow. I have no words to express just how awesome it is that you're enjoying this so much.

I've been trying to be good about the sneezing. For one, it's part of the prompt, and for two, I agree with you that it tends to taper off in a lot of fics, and I'm always mildly disappointed when that happens.

Sam is a tender-hearted guy. I think it lends something emotionally to how he views his brother, to his empathy for Dean's obvious distress that he can't really alleviate.

~W.I.N.

Besides, I still have that allergy prompt you gave for the h/c meme that's simmering at the back of my mind.

*flails*

*chokes*

*mauls you with hugs*

*composes self*

*adjusts your shirt*

*cough*

*choke*

*flails*

Ahem.

Thank you?

I might not be able to get to it right away, but as soon as I've worked out the plot I'll start posting it. Once this story is done, that is. Yikes. I haven't written this much in YEARS.

Sneezy Dean, expertly and of his own accord and in secret, soothing a baby?! This fic is so many kinds of adorable!

And now chills... which sometimes lead to forehead feels......

Oh, there will absolutely be forehead feels. Have no fear!

Awww, freaking adorable. I love how the plot continues to develop too. Cuteee.

Hee! Thank you. Dean keeps getting cuter on me. I don't know how.

~W.I.N.

Mod Note: Merged posts ~Mute

[W.I.N.]

Uh, did I mention I was really mean to Dean in this story? 'Cause I am. Fair warning. Nothing graphic, but... yeah. I kind of feel a bit bad, only it's not exactly stopping me from continuing, now is it?

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 15

The doorbell rang, and Lesley sprang to her feet. “That'll be the carpool bringing Steven home.” She hurried to the front door, and the boys sat in silence as voices wafted through the house, accompanied by excited childish babble about what sounded like a very exciting arts and crafts project.

“Steven, wait!”

The sound of small feet approached rapidly, and a little boy with a mop of brown curls and a smile missing a front tooth came barrelling into the kitchen, clad in paint-spattered overalls and a Thomas the Tank Engine t-shirt. Dean was definitely beginning to see a pattern emerge. The boy stopped short, stared, then glanced back to where his mother was hurrying after him, the smile still present but a little more hesitant than before.

“Mommy?”

“I told you to wait, Steven. These are friends of mine,” Lesley crouched next to him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Why don't you go introduce yourself?”

“Okay,” he made a beeline for Dean, small hand extended. “My-name-is-Steven-it's-nice-to-meet-you-what's-yours?”

Dean bit back a smile. “Dean. Id's dice to beet you too, Steved.”

Steven wrinkled his nose. “You talk funny.”

Sam snorted, and Lesley sounded mortified. “Steven! That's not polite.”

“I've god a cold, is all. Dod't you talk fuddy whed you habe a cold?” Dean grinned. He liked this kid. He was like his mother: smart as a whip, and mouthy.

“Yeah,” Steven grinned back. “Why are you here?”

“Steven!”

“It's fide,” Dean reached for his now-cold cup of coffee as his voice threatened to give out completely again. He was having a hard enough time talking as it was. “This is Sab, ad that there is Addy. We're here to help your bob out with a probleb she's beed havig.”

Steven gave him a considering look, surprising on a kid his age. “Are you going to fix it?”

“That's the plad, yeah.” Dean shifted a bit uncomfortably, acutely aware that he was being scrutinized to within an inch of his life. A glance at Lesley confirmed that this wasn't exactly normal behaviour. “Sobethig wrogg?”

The boy hesitated, then very obviously worked up his courage. “I was checking what colour your eyes were. They're green, so it's okay.”

Dean felt rather than heard Sam's quick intake of breath, and Andy's jaw just about came unhinged. “Wha'?” Andy stammered.

“Steven, what are you talking about?”

The kid glanced back at his mother, then looked at him again. “I wanted to make sure his eyes weren't yellow. Like the other man.”

“What other man?”

“The one from the playground. He pretended to be Mr. King, but it wasn't really him. He had yellow eyes, and he said people would be coming. I didn't like him, and I told the teacher on him, but he went away.”

“Sab... you wadt to, I duddo, get this?” Sam was good with kids. Always had been. Much better at talking to witnesses and victims than Dean ever was. Steven turned a dubious look at him, then turned right back to Dean.

“I don't wanna talk to him.”

“Steven!”

Dean turned aside to cough into his hand, feeling his whole chest clench with the effort. This day was turning out to be one of the worst in recent history, and that was saying something. “You wadda talgk to be idstead, buddy?”

Another dubious look, but this time Steven nodded. “You should come look at my trains.”

“You bind?” Dean pushed himself out of his chair, wishing he didn't feel as though he'd been beaten with baseball bats by a bunch of burly men. Really burly. He glanced at Lesley for confirmation.

“Uh, no, I guess I don't mind. I'm sorry, he's not usually like this.” She was looking bemused and more than a little horrified that her five-year-old son knew more about the yellow-eyed demon that was threatening her family than she did.

“Come on!” Steven tugged insistently on Dean's hand.

With a last helpless look at Sam and Andy, who were both visibly struggling not to laugh, Dean let himself be dragged into the living room and subjected to a very long and involved lecture about the various characters from Thomas the Tank Engine. It was definitely an obsession, he decided, as he tried to make sense of the prattle. One thing he did know about kids, and mainly small boys, was that you had to get the formalities out of the way first, and formalities in this case meant listening to intricate stories about conductors, trains, and men with top hats. Somewhere in the middle of a lengthy explanation about a rivalry between two engines he had to wrench aside to sneeze into his cupped hands.

“Hih... HISHOO! HEISHH! Huh... HPKFFH! HAPKSHH!”

“Bless you,” Steven said, with the mechanical precision of a preschooler who had no real idea what he was saying.

“Thagks.” Dean scrubbed at his face with his hands, his head throbbing, then pulled a tissue from the rapidly-dwindling supply in his pocket to blow his nose, which turned out to be horrifically painful. Almost definitely a sinus infection. Awesome. All right, he told himself, focus, Winchester. “You wadt to tell be about this dude with yellow eyes?”

Steven sat cross-legged on the carpet, turning one of his toy engines over in his hands. “I didn't like him.”

God, his throat hurt. “Yeah, deither do I. You saw hib id the pargk?”

“Uh-huh,” a small nod. “He said he wanted to come see my Mommy, but I don't want him to. He's scary.”

That was putting it mildly. “Dabbed straight. Uh... I bead, yeah. Scary.” Damn. Kid filter, Winchester. Lesley would kill him if he taught her kid to swear. He coughed into his sleeve. “Whed did you see hib?”

“At the park.”

“T-today? HHGFFH-uh!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ad he said we'd be cobig?”

“He said that if someone named Sam came that I should tell him everything's going...” he paused, frowning as he tried to remember unfamiliar words, “according to plan. Is Sam your friend?” Obviously worried.

Dean shook his head. “He's by little brother. Like Dylad for you.”

“Is he bad?”

“Whad? Doh!” His chest seized up again, and this time he coughed so hard spots swam across his field of vision and for the second time that day he thought he might actually puke. “Sab isd't bad,” he wheezed, wishing he felt more convinced of it than he was. Sure, freaky demonic psychic powers weren't likely to be a good thing, but Sam wasn't evil. Absolutely not.

“Okay.”

“HPTSCHUH-uh!” He sneezed into the crook of his elbow, wondered just what the hell he was supposed to do now. Everywhere he turned the yellow-eyed demon seemed to have its sulphuric fingers in every pie in sight. Great. He'd never think of pie the same way again. Now for some reason the demon had been talking to this boy, which was a damned unreliable way of relaying messages, and as far as Dean was concerned he could take his messages and—

“He's here.”

“Whad?”

Steven had moved to the living room window, and pointed to the creek, where a man's silhouette was barely visible through the pouring rain. In a split second Dean was on his feet, peering through the window over the kid's head.

“Sud of a bitch! Sab!”

Dean was pretty sure he'd meant to yell, but it came out as a strangled croak, and he bent double, coughing. He forced himself back upright, pressing a hand to his sternum, wondering somewhere at the back of his mind just how long he could go without oxygen. Never mind getting Sam, that thing was out there, and he would be damned if he let that son of a bitch get away again. He bolted out the front door, splashing through the puddles. Behind him he could hear Sam calling after him, and it occurred to him far too late that running out unarmed into the pouring rain after the thing that had ruined his life was probably the most spectacularly ill-thought-out decision of his very short existence. He came skidding to a halt on the grass, water squelching up under his feet through the sod, his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst through his ribcage. The demon hadn't moved, was standing stock still by the surging water, its back turned to him, seemingly oblivious the rain soaking through its grey suit.

“So you decided to join me after all. How do you like the weather, Dean-o?” Bile rose in Dean's throat until he thought he might choke. His chest was aching, lungs screaming for air, and wouldn't it just take the cake, to pass out right now?

“What do you wadt?”

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” the mocking voice sent chills down his spine. “This really isn't your most shining moment, is it?”

“You stay away frob theb, you hear be?”

The demon turned, smirking, its eyes flashing mockingly at him, bright flames in the midst of the grey. “Oh, Dean-o. Those words might have held some real threat coming from your father. Or even from someone with working vocal cords.”

“Voice or doh voice, I'b sdill betweed you ad theb, you sud of a bitch.”

“You think to threaten me?” The demon's voice was quiet —he could barely make it out over the hiss of raindrops. “Arrogant pup. I will crush you like I crushed your father. There is nothing you can do to prevent me from accomplishing my goals: everything is already in motion. Stand aside and let your brother fulfill his destiny, or I will put you down like a mongrel dog.”

“Dean!”

It was Sam, running full-tilt through the rain toward him, but time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, and he seemed impossibly far away. Without turning around Dean motioned for him to stay back, not trusting his voice to carry that far. In fact, his voice appeared to have given out entirely.

When he opened his mouth, nothing came out except a wheezing cough, and the demon laughed.

“I could kill you where you stand, but it's so much more fun to watch you suffer. You and your family. I have taken especial pleasure in watching your father suffer the torments of hell, and all for you, Dean-o. How does it feel, knowing you're the only reason your father is dead?”

He wasn't sure what he did after that. It might have involved trying to yell, or maybe just hurl himself at the evil son of a bitch that had killed his parents and rip off its head, but whatever it was, he failed spectacularly. The next thing he knew his feet had lost their connection with the ground and he was flying backward, limbs flailing like a rag doll. For a split-second he had the random thought that he probably looked really stupid —and how the hell was he ever going to explain this to Sam?— when he felt his shoulders hit the wet ground with a bone-jarring smack, knocking the wind out of him. His head whipped back, collided with the ground, and then all he saw was black.

*****

[LOSTfreak]

........You've left me speechless again! I'm having a hard time gathering my thoughts in order to give you a decent comment. I can't tell you enough, how much of a brilliant writer you are! Sending an already miserably sick Dean out into the rain to confront a perilous situation with yellow eyes....I love your mind! On another note, how could you leave me like this?! *runs around in circles, screaming like a banshee*

[W.I.N.]

........You've left me speechless again! I'm having a hard time gathering my thoughts in order to give you a decent comment. I can't tell you enough, how much of a brilliant writer you are! Sending an already miserably sick Dean out into the rain to confront a perilous situation with yellow eyes....I love your mind! On another note, how could you leave me like this?! *runs around in circles, screaming like a banshee*

Gosh, thanks.

Yeah... I don't think Dean really thought that through. Then again, there are extenuating circumstances...

Don't worry, there'll be another update tomorrow.

~W.I.N.

[crazy_cat_girl]

I can't wait for tomorrow!

I love all the evil folks call him Dean-o. I secretly love that nickname. ;-)

I love what you've built to. Can't wait till the next!!!!

[W.I.N.]

I can't wait for tomorrow!

I love all the evil folks call him Dean-o. I secretly love that nickname. ;-)

I love what you've built to. Can't wait till the next!!!!

Hee! Thanks.

"Dean-o" really has a great mocking quality to it. No wonder all the bad guys like to use it.

New update tomorrow.

~W.I.N.

[aggedy_ann]

Besides, I still have that allergy prompt you gave for the h/c meme that's simmering at the back of my mind.

*flails*

*chokes*

*mauls you with hugs*

*composes self*

*adjusts your shirt*

I just saw this. There's an allergy prompt too? *collapses*

Mind starts shutting down incoherently.

[telltale]

Dean-with-a-baby! Dean-with-kids! ::melts:: I can't even tell you how happy this story keeps making me!

REALLY, REALLY HAPPY, OKAY?

This latest chapter/cliffhanger was amazing, but now I think I'm going to have to save a few chapters up again so I don't lose my mind wondering what's going to happen. So if I don't comment on a chapter, it just means I haven't read it yet.

In conclusion, you are amazing!

[W.I.N.]

I just saw this. There's an allergy prompt too? *collapses*

Mind starts shutting down incoherently.

Yes, yes there is. Bizarrely, contrary to all expectations since all my fics have involved colds (I dunno, my mind works that way), I am actually a total allergy girl. So, y'know, I should probably get around to writing an allergy-related fic.

I'm actually excited about it, but I have other writing commitments that are going to have to take priority before I get to it, alas.

Dean-with-a-baby! Dean-with-kids! ::melts:: I can't even tell you how happy this story keeps making me!

REALLY, REALLY HAPPY, OKAY?

This latest chapter/cliffhanger was amazing, but now I think I'm going to have to save a few chapters up again so I don't lose my mind wondering what's going to happen. So if I don't comment on a chapter, it just means I haven't read it yet.

In conclusion, you are amazing!

LOL

Okay, I promise not to pine too much over your lack of comments. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

~W.I.N.

[Lady Blessington]

Deeeaaaannnnn!

With the super-sick already! And the being unconscious in the rain! And the trying to protect Sam even though he can hardly keep himself upright! And the mad, mad kid skillz/charisma!

This chapter was genuinely creepy/nervous-making. Very nicely done.

[W.I.N.]

Deeeaaaannnnn!

With the super-sick already! And the being unconscious in the rain! And the trying to protect Sam even though he can hardly keep himself upright! And the mad, mad kid skillz/charisma!

This chapter was genuinely creepy/nervous-making. Very nicely done.

Gosh, thank you.

I've always figured that Dean would be good with kids, if a little unorthodox in his approach. He raised Sam, after all, and there has been some evidence in the show that he knows how to talk to them.

And, yeah. I cannot see this doing poor Dean any good. The protect-Sam instincts are totally in overdrive, naturally. Oh, Dean.

~W.I.N.

[obsessed]

Awww, so freaking adorable.

[ooo]

Oh no! Dean!

Love the cliffhanger and realistic scary feeling I got reading that. Also? Dean with kids =

REALLY enjoying this!

[Aprilcot]

EVIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU CANNOT STOP THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU CANNOT LET THEM DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

U ARE EVIL!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL SUE YOU IF YOU DON'T LET SAM SAVE THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

*great two chapters by the way*

[W.I.N.]

Awww, so freaking adorable.

The demon? I suppose, if you like yellow eyes...

Okay, I kid, I kid. Dean is pretty adorable, I agree.

Oh no! Dean!

Love the cliffhanger and realistic scary feeling I got reading that. Also? Dean with kids =

REALLY enjoying this!

Yeah. I took my cue from the episode "Dead in the Water." Contrary to all appearances, Dean is actually pretty good with kids, because he doesn't talk to them as though they're idiots.

EVIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU CANNOT STOP THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU CANNOT LET THEM DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

U ARE EVIL!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL SUE YOU IF YOU DON'T LET SAM SAVE THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

*great two chapters by the way*

Don't worry, I haven't stopped there!

~W.I.N.

[W.I.N.]

Sorry for the cliffhanger, folks! All is resolved (well, partly) in this chapter, in which I continue to be really mean to Dean. There is a spot reserved for me in the special hell.

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 16

It all took place in a matter of seconds. One minute Sam was running through the torrential rain toward where his brother had suicidally decided to take on a demon single-handedly and without so much as a bag of salt to his name, and the next the demon was gone, vanished seemingly into thin air, and Dean was spread-eagled on the ground next to the rising waters of the creek. With one last shout over his shoulder to Andy and Lesley to stay put, he sprinted the last hundred yards or so, came skidding to a halt on his knees.

“Dean!”

There was no response, and he could see white slits beneath Dean's eyelids where his eyes had rolled back into his head. With an expertise he often wished he didn't have —knowing where it came from— he ran his hands from Dean's head down over his whole body, feeling for lumps, for limbs out of place, checking for blood. Before he'd gotten past the shoulders Dean stirred, blinking rapidly, the green eyes a splash of colour in a face otherwise entirely drained of it. He struggled to sit up, reaching out with one hand, his expression at once anxious and expectant, searching out Sam's eyes with his own. It was obvious what he wanted, and not for the first time Sam found himself wishing that just for once Dean would worry about himself first. With a sigh he let Dean place his hand on his chest, held it there with his own larger one, fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“I'm okay, Dean. I'm fine. Never got close.”

Dean nodded once, the tension draining from his body, let himself sink back onto the ground.

“Wha' happed? Wh'r'sit?”

“It's gone. Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head. “Jusdt winded. Thigk I twisted by agkle.” He sounded as though the demon had crushed his larynx, but he'd sounded like that before running out into the freezing rain. Once he was sure Dean hadn't broken his back or his neck or had his head beaten in, Sam let himself give into the anger that was so much easier to deal with than fear.

“What the hell, Dean? What is wrong with you? The demon shows up and your reaction is to go running after it by yourself without telling me and without even taking a weapon? What the hell?”

A fit of coughing jackknifed his brother to a seated position, and in spite of himself Sam rubbed circles on his back, still simmering with poorly-contained anger. “Wasn't... didn't plan...” Dean managed, still coughing, and Sam huffed a laugh that was part relief, part annoyance.

“Dude, if that had been planned I would be seriously worried about you.”

The coughing turned into an amused wheeze, and Dean stretched out a hand. Taking his cue, Sam pulled him to his feet, where he half-collapsed into Sam's arms, breathing hard. “You understand that now we have no hope of convincing Lesley that we're not hopelessly insane, right?”

“Sorry.” Dean wiped futilely at the rain water that was dripping down his face, still holding onto Sam with one hand. He brought up his other arm to his face almost immediately, keeping hold of Sam's arm to keep his balance. “HHEISHH! HEPTSCHUH!”

“I can't believe you. If I didn't know you better I'd swear you do this sort of stuff on purpose. Then again, if you had, you would have gone right into the creek. No sense in doing things halfway.” Sam rolled his eyes as he talked, started dragging Dean back to the house.

“Oughta kigk your ass,” Dean muttered, but didn't resist, sniffling into his sleeve. “Gettig a sbart bouth od you.”

The rational part of Sam's mind knew that this was just Dean coping the way he knew how, but he had to grit his teeth, and gripped his brother harder than he probably had to, shoving him unceremoniously up the front stairs and through the door, where Andy and Lesley had been waiting. They backed away, as much to give him some room as to get away from the look on his face. Lesley ran to the kitchen for a chair, and gently pried his fingers away from Dean's arm, pushed him to sit, dripping water in a puddle on the floor.

“C'mon, Dean, sit.” She looked up at Sam, eyes narrowed. “Can I have a word?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving Dean, who was bent forward, forearms on his knees, head down, coughing so hard it sounded as though he might throw up, sucking in air in whooping gasps in-between bouts. He was shaking, too, his hands clenched tightly into fists so that —and Sam knew that the way he knew his own name— no one would see how badly they were trembling.

“I'll stay with him,” Andy stepped forward, and for the first time since he'd realized Dean had run after the yellow-eyed demon (without him, for God's sake), he wondered where the kid had got to. What was his name? Steven?

“He's upstairs with his brother,” Lesley supplied, catching his searching look. “I didn't want him... watching.”

Sam shuddered, nodded in agreement. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Be right back. I'll be just in the next room, okay?”

Dean nodded, couldn't answer, and reluctantly Sam followed Lesley into the kitchen. Before she could open her mouth to ask him questions to which he had no answer, he headed her off at the pass. “Is there anywhere you can go for the next couple of days?”

She gaped. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Dylan's six-month birthday. That's when the demon usually strikes. Is there somewhere you and your family can go?” He wasn't even sure that it would work, that the demon wouldn't be able to find them anyway, but it was worth a shot.

She shook her head. “No. I mean, there's my sister, but she's got kids too, and I don't want... I don't want to put anyone else in danger. Oh God, it was right here...” She was starting to lose it, not that he could blame her, but he had to keep her calm, keep her focussed before she freaked out.

“Where's your husband?”

“Business trip,” she wrung her hands, visibly betraying anxiety for the first time. “I should call him, tell him what's happening.”

He reached out, put a warning hand on her arm. “No.”

“What? What are you talking about? They're his children. He needs to know what's going on, he needs to come back home!”

Sam sighed, put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze, ducking his head so he could look her in the eyes. “I know it's hard. But if you call him and start going on about demons over the phone to him, what good do you think it'll do? Either he won't believe you and he'll call the cops to come get you for your own good, or else he will believe you and he'll come running back because, like you said, it's his kids we're talking about. That just means one more person to worry about, one more person who's going to need protecting.”

She passed a trembling hand over her face. “Oh, God, you're right. I hate that you're right, but you are.” She took a deep breath, found her composure. “You said you could help me protect the house. How do I do that?”

“Salt,” he said immediately. “Do you have rock salt?”

“I have a few bags left over from the winter. Why?”

“You need to spread lines of salt in front of your doors and windows. It keeps most things out.”

“Most things?”

“Umm... how attached are you to your floors?”

“Oh my God, I cannot believe this is happening.”

Sam winced. “Sorry. Look... put down the salt lines today. Have Steven help you —it helps if you pretend it's a game,” he cringed as he said it, remembering a childhood spent playing the salt-the-doorstep-game. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all this. This isn't usually how these things go. Look, I have to get Dean back, get him fixed up, but we'll come back as soon as we can. I'll give you my cell number, just in case.” He found a pad and pen by her telephone, printed the number neatly along with his name.

Lesley gave him a rueful look. “He's a mess,” she agreed. “Does he always act like that?”

“Uh, like a jackass or like a suicidal nutjob? 'Cause that's a yes to the first and a definite no to the second. I don't know exactly what that was. He's never done anything like that before...” He rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that he was broadcasting his anxiety but too anxious to actually do anything about it. With an apologetic smile he went back to the hallway, not waiting for her answer, but he heard her follow him anyway.

Dean was still shivering, his eyes glassy, and Andy turned a vaguely helpless look in Sam's direction. “Uh... I think we might have a problem.”

Sam bit back a sigh, crouched next to his brother. “You okay?”

“Fide.”

“Uh-huh.” He reached up to check for fever, but Dean swatted at him.

“Sab, hadds!” He managed, before starting to cough again. “D-do I h-hab to... HAISHH! hab to explaid p-pers... hih... ISHOO! persodal space agaid?”

“Dean, come on. Let's just get you home.”

“I'b fide.” Dean scrubbed at his forehead with his sleeve, swaying slightly in his seat. “Debod's cobig bagk.”

“Dean, you can't even sit up.”

“Sabby, we h-hab b-bi... HEPTSHUH! bigger problebs thad a cold.”

Sam resisted the impulse to pull at his hair in frustration. “Dean. Could you please be reasonable about this?”

“Sam?” Andy edged closer. “Let me try?”

He rolled his eyes. “Be my guest. It's like talking to a wall.” He stepped aside, and realized too late what he'd just done. “Uh... Andy?”

Andy laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered, then raised his voice. “Come home with us, and don't argue.”

Even Sam could feel the change in Andy's voice, subtle but unmistakeable. Dean was on his feet in a split-second, glaring at both of them and wincing as he put his weight on his bad ankle, but he offered no resistance as Sam grabbed him by the elbow and steered him back through the front door while Andy said a hurried goodbye to Lesley, who was staring, wide-eyed with shock.

“Cad't believe you let hib whabby be, Sab,” Dean said accusingly as Sam folded him into the passenger seat of the Impala and fished the car keys out of his pocket. “Oughdta kigk both your asses.” He folded his arms protectively over his chest, let his head rest against the window, eyes slipping closed.

“I'm sorry,” Sam didn't think it would help matters if he admitted he hadn't realized what Andy was going to do. “Maybe if you weren't such a stubborn jackass this might have gone differently,” he said gently.

They drove back in almost complete silence. His brother seemed too out of it to make more than a token protest, and if he hadn't been shivering and coughing miserably Sam would have thought he'd fallen asleep. Andy hovered as he pulled his brother from the car, hoisting Dean's arm over his shoulders, half-dragging him inside and sitting next to him on the sofa. This time Dean didn't so much as make a sound when he laid a hand on his forehead, just made a small sighing sound and leaned against him, ever so slightly. Sam propped him up, started pulling awkwardly at his soaking-wet jacket, working it off one arm at a time. He glanced up to find Andy still hovering, wringing his hands.

“Is he going be mad?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably.”

“Dude, I'b righd here.” Dean's eyes fluttered open, then closed again, and he pulled away from Sam to sneeze convulsively into the crook of his elbow. “HHEISH! Hih... HGGFFHH! HHKSCHH-uh! Uh, Jesus... HEKSCHUH! HAISHOO!”

“Gesundheit.”

Dean didn't move, breath still hitching. Sam could feel his ribcage expanding with each breath. “Huh... hih... heh-EKSH-uh! HEPTSCHUH! Nngh...” he moaned softly. “Sud of a bitch, Sab. This sugks so hard...”

Sam rubbed his back. “Yeah, I know. Come on, lean on me, we're going to get you sorted out, okay?” Dean just nodded. “Okay, let's get you up. On three. One!” He hoisted him up without warning, and was rewarded with another groan of pain.

“Uh...” Andy shuffled back, still wringing his hands, and Dean turned a baleful stare on him.

“We are dot dode, you ad be.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, tough guy, but before you try to kick Andy's ass, let's get you out of your wet clothes. You can kick his ass later.”

Andy's voice followed them up the stairs. “Uh, I'd really prefer it if you didn't!”

*****

[telltale]

Yeah, I totally couldn't stay away, haha!

Sam's memories of the-salt-the-doorstep game was a great moment. That's so sad, but rings very true to me. And I can't imagine there being anything better than wet, cold, feverish, kind of out of it Dean being taken care of by Sam. AWWW, baby.

[W.I.N.]

Hee!

I'm really flattered.

Poor Sam. I can't imagine what it must have been like for that time after John told him the truth, putting all the pieces together, realizing that all those "games" he was taught as a kid were actually training, laying down traps, quasi-paranoid precautions against the paranormal.

And, yeah, in the next chapter I'm cutting Dean a little bit of slack and letting Sam fuss over him for a while.

(All the better to torture him more later, naturally)

Glad you're enjoying it! New chapter tomorrow.

~W.I.N.

Yeah, I totally couldn't stay away, haha!

Sam's memories of the-salt-the-doorstep game was a great moment. That's so sad, but rings very true to me. And I can't imagine there being anything better than wet, cold, feverish, kind of out of it Dean being taken care of by Sam. AWWW, baby.

[Lady Blessington]

Sam sitting beside Dean on the couch, and helping him get undressed... the forehead feel he finally gives into... the fretful Andy... aghghghhhh.

[W.I.N.]

Dean is going all adorable on me. I have NO idea where it all came from, but I want to pat him and put him to bed with a hot water bottle.

The next chapter is the one in which I deal specifically with your prompt, so I'm hoping you like it.

~W.I.N.

Sam sitting beside Dean on the couch, and helping him get undressed... the forehead feel he finally gives into... the fretful Andy... aghghghhhh.