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

[obsessed]

Eek. The brother relationship you build is extraordinary, and the writing is eeek.

[LOSTfreak]

Wonderful! It's like getting little bits of crack every single morning. I actually read this minutes after you posted it (I hit the refresh button compulsively until it came up ) and have read it 4 times since then. It's crack I tell you!

[Fae]

" 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."

love it. reminds me of how JP grabs JA sometimes and you can really see how huge and beautiful his hands are.

[W.I.N.]

Eek. The brother relationship you build is extraordinary, and the writing is eeek.

Thank you!

The brother relationship is pretty much the cornerstone of the show, so I'm glad you think I got it right. Otherwise, the whole thing really doesn't work.

Wonderful! It's like getting little bits of crack every single morning. I actually read this minutes after you posted it (I hit the refresh button compulsively until it came up ) and have read it 4 times since then. It's crack I tell you!

Woah.

Thank you. I really don't know what to say. You're awesome. *smooshes you*

" 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."

love it. reminds me of how JP grabs JA sometimes and you can really see how huge and beautiful his hands are.

I have a thing about hands (and feet, but less so). Watching a person's hands tells you so much about them, and Jared Padalecki has beautiful hands.

~W.I.N.

[W.I.N.]

This bit is all about mads3rv3r's prompt. I've poked it to within an inch of its life, have decided to stop before the editing police come after me with baseball bats.

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 17

Fever or no, Dean was soaking wet and still shivering, and Sam found it more expedient to strip him down and put him in the shower until his lips weren't blue anymore, ignoring his feeble protests to the effect that he was fine, that he didn't need help, and that he certainly didn't need help taking a shower, and had Sam forgotten everything he'd ever learned about personal space while he was at Stanford? Sam rolled his eyes but let him be, parked himself by the door, wishing that sitting in wet jeans didn't chafe quite so much. He heard the water shut off, and a muffled thump and a curse, followed by harsh, barking coughs.

“Dean?” There was no answer. “I'm coming back in.”

He shoved the door open, found Dean sitting on the edge of the tub, a towel tucked around his hips, one hand braced against the tiled wall, the other pressed to his sternum as he coughed, pain etched on his features.

“Jesus, you sound terrible.” Dean made a noncommittal sound, accepted the glass of water Sam handed to him, made a face and motioned for the bottle of pills on the sink. Sam handed them over, pursing his lips. “I'm amazed you can still walk. Come on, let's get you up,” Sam gripped his elbow, praying that Dean was too far gone to put up much of a fight, and found himself even more worried when that turned out to be the case. He did mutter something about not needing to be put to bed, but Sam ignored that as well, rummaging in the duffel bags for something warm, to little avail. They were definitely overdue for laundry. There was a timid knock at the open door, and he found Andy waiting, still looking as though he was expecting to be punched at any moment.

“Uh... I have an extra pair of pajamas.” He held out a bundle at arm's length. “They're clean, and, uh, flannel. I thought, y'know, what with you having been in the rain... uh... I brought an extra blanket, too.”

“Thanks.” Sam took the bundle from him, gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I got this, Andy.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure. Look, I'm sorry, but it didn't look like he was going to...”

“It's fine,” Sam interrupted. “Don't worry about it. He'll be pissed, but it'll blow over. It's not like you made him do anything he didn't secretly want to do anyway. You just gave him an out.”

Andy gave him a dubious look, but nodded. “Uh... you want me to make up the sofa?”

“If it'll give you something to do.”

“Right.” He cast about with his eyes. “There's a washer-dryer, if you want to dry your clothes. You're, uh, kind of soaked.”

“Yeah, thanks. I'll do that.”

“I'll uh... yeah. I'll just go.”

With Andy gone on his self-imposed mission, Sam was able to turn his attention back to Dean, who had listed to the side again and was leaning his head and shoulder against the headboard. He turned glassy eyes on Sam, couldn't quite manage to speak above a rasp.

“Fladdel?”

“At least they're warm.”

“HHEISH!”

Dean batted his hands away again, and it took all of Sam's patience not to shake him or snap at him. As obnoxious as he was ordinarily, Dean was ten times worse when he was sick. God forbid a Winchester ever admit weakness unless he was bleeding out. “Stop fussig. I cad dress byself. Dot three years old.” He fumbled with the buttons on the pajama top, finally gave up and let Sam help him, twisted away halfway through the process to sneeze against the back of his wrist. “HAISHH! ISHOO!”

“Gesundheit. Those pills helping any?”

Dean shook his head. “Dot really.”

He let Sam shove him back onto the bed, didn't say a word when Sam wrapped his twisted ankle in an elastic bandage to keep the swelling down, kept his eyes closed, braced on his hands, head propped against the headboard. His expression turned mutinous, however, when Sam produced a thermometer and waggled it meaningfully. “Cobe od.”

“Humour me,” Sam said firmly. “I know you have a fever, I just need to see how high it is after that shower. Open up. I'm not kidding, Dean. Don't make me get Andy to force you, because I will do it, even if it gives the poor kid a heart attack.” With a resigned if exasperated look Dean let him slide the thermometer under his tongue, waited impatiently until it beeped. Sam took it back, checked the digital readout. “102. I suppose it could be worse, but that's way too high for just a cold. Your sinuses hurt?” Dean just glared, glassy-eyed. “I'll take that as a yes. If you're not better by tomorrow we're getting you to a clinic, getting you some antibiotics.”

“At leasdt chage oudt of your clothes, Sab. You're sdtill soakig wet. Doh use both of us gettig sigk.”

Sam smiled, rolled his eyes, did as he was told. “Get comfortable. I'm going to go do some laundry, since Andy offered.” When Dean didn't move he took him firmly by an arm, settled him further down on the bed. “It'll go better if you sleep it off. Just... don't fight me on this. I need you back on your feet, okay? I can't do all of this on my own, and you're no use when you're too sick to sit up.” It was a cheap trick, but Sam was accustomed to playing the little-brother card more often than he liked just so Dean would take care of himself.

“Dabbed straight,” Dean muttered, burrowing under the covers and curling up on his side. “Gotta w-watch your b-bagk, Sab... Hih... ISHOO! Freagkig debods everywhere...” he was having a hard time keeping his eyes focussed, and suddenly Sam let out a surprised huff of laughter as he finally put two and two together.

“Oh my God, you're high. How many of those pills did you take, dude?”

Dean just rolled his eyes, winced, pulled the covers over his face. “Shud up.” Sam couldn't see his face, but heard another sharp intake of breath. “HEPTSHUH! Huh... huh-EKSH-uh!”

“All right. Get some sleep. I'll be back soon, okay?”

There was no answer as Dean started to cough again, and Sam patted his leg before taking an armful of laundry down the stairs. Andy directed him to a room just past the kitchen where he found the aforementioned washer-dryer. It felt like untold luxury to operate machines that didn't require quarters, not to have to wait his turn in line, not have to put up with pushy women who insisted he was taking too long with the dryer, not to have to feed more coins into a dryer that only half-worked. He scowled at the machines. God, sometimes his life sucked. He left the machines to run, and made his way back into the kitchen, thinking he'd see if there was a kettle and tea bags. He didn't think he could take any more coffee, but a hot drink would be welcome just about now.

“Looking for something?”

Sam started slightly. “Uh, yeah. Got any tea?”

Andy shook his head. “Sorry, don't really drink the stuff. There's soup. Canned, but it's soup. Cupboard on your left.”

Sam shrugged, pulled out the can of soup, rummaged for a can opener. “Thanks. You want some? I don't know about you, but I'm cold.”

“Well, I wasn't the one out in the rain, but sure. Uh... how's Dean?” Andy scuffed at the floor with the toe of his shoe.

“Sick as a dog,” Sam poured water into a pot, switched on the stove. “I'm hoping he'll be able to sleep off the worst of it, but I think he's going to need antibiotics, which is just great because we've got no insurance and we're not exactly swimming in cash right now. Sorry,” he rubbed at his forehead, realizing he was unloading on Andy, who certainly hadn't asked for it. “I'm just a little stressed.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Sam bit back a sigh, stirred the soup with a whisk he found in a drawer. “I'm going to have to go back to Lesley's later, help her make the house safe. They're not safe by themselves.”

“Except you don't want to leave your brother alone,” Andy guessed. “You want me to stay with him? Keep an eye on him?”

“Would you mind? I wouldn't ask, except he's got a fever, and I need to make sure he doesn't get any worse.”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Look, man, you guys totally saved my bacon before. Tracy would be dead, and I'd be trying to figure out how to get away from my psychopathic evil twin and probably framed for multiple homicides. I owe you. I owe you a lot. Besides, I like your brother when he's not thinking about using me as a punching bag.”

“He's got a thing about control,” Sam said mildly.

“Noticed that. I can't really blame him. I mean... I don't really like making people do things they don't want to do, unless it's harmless. Concert tickets and free parking is one thing, but... the things I could do if I went all Dark Side?” Andy shuddered, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Weber made people kill themselves, made them do it and say that it was all right while they did it. It makes me sick, knowing I've got that in me.”

Suddenly Sam wasn't all that hungry anymore. “I know what you mean.”

“I mean, did you see the look on Lesley's face? The way she looked at me? She was terrified.”

“I think that might have had more to do with the fact that a demon showed up on her lawn, Andy.”

Andy let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, but that wasn't all of it. You're going to burn that,” he pointed to the soup as it started to boil over, and with a curse Sam quickly pulled the pot off the burner. “You had the stove on too high.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Looks like Dean was right about your cooking.”

“Hey, I made breakfast,” Sam smiled ruefully.

“So... how do you deal with it?”

“With what, specifically?” Sam found a ladle, pulled bowls out of the cupboard, began pouring out the soup. “In case you haven't noticed, our lives are kind of filled with all sorts of supernatural crap that needs dealing with.” He sounded bitter, he knew, couldn't quite bring himself to care.

“I meant your, uh, gift.”

Sam scrubbed at his face with one hand. “Truthfully, I don't. I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say something reassuring about things getting better, but I've got nothing. Dean's right about one thing: it's getting worse, it's getting out of hand, and I don't know what to do about it. I've got no control over it at all. So... mostly, I'm not dealing with it.” He gave Andy a rueful look. “Probably not what you were hoping to hear, huh?”

Andy shook his head. “Not really, but it's better than having you lie to me. Look, I know you don't want to leave, but I don't know the first thing about keeping Lesley safe, and I think I'm about the last person she wants to see right now anyway. You're the only guy here who knows what he's doing and is still upright. I'll keep an eye on Dean, and I have your cell number.”

Sam hesitated, glanced at the ceiling as though somehow he could see through it straight to where Dean was (hopefully) sleeping. Andy was right, though. “I appreciate it, Andy. Call me if he gets worse?”

“Sure. Eat your soup, I'll bring this to him. If I'm lucky, he'll be too out of it to kick my ass.”

“He couldn't even if he really wanted to, you know.”

“I know, but when he's feeling better I'll offer him a free swing,” Andry grinned sheepishly.

“He won't take it.”

“That's what I'm counting on.”

*****

[MusicaDiabolos]

This is so amazing, I love Supernatural Are you ever going to write sneezy Sam again?

[W.I.N.]

This is so amazing, I love Supernatural Are you ever going to write sneezy Sam again?

I'm pretty sure I could be convinced. Prompts are helpful. I have quite a few other writing commitments on my plate these days, but with the New Year hopefully some time will free up and I'll be able to do more writing.

~W.I.N.

[MusicaDiabolos]

This is so amazing, I love Supernatural Are you ever going to write sneezy Sam again?

I'm pretty sure I could be convinced. Prompts are helpful. I have quite a few other writing commitments on my plate these days, but with the New Year hopefully some time will free up and I'll be able to do more writing.

~W.I.N.

Hmmm...allergies are my favourite, like cats or flowers. Maybe a case involving those? *squee*

[W.I.N.]

Hmmm...allergies are my favourite, like cats or flowers. Maybe a case involving those? *squee*

Hm. Well, I'll see what I can do. It's a bit vague, but if inspiration strikes I shall certainly write it.

~W.I.N.

[LOSTfreak]

It's so sweet that Andy's going to look after Dean while Sam's out! I love Sam being such a protective and caring brother, nothing makes me happier than Sam taking care of Dean. This was a great way to start out my day, by the end of each chapter I'm always left with a warm feeling. This chapter Dean was in less peril, so I'm left with an "awww", whereas with the last one, I was left with an edge of your seat excitement, but still the same level of intense happiness. I don't think I'll ever stop grinning like an idiot *playfully glares at you*.

[W.I.N.]

It's so sweet that Andy's going to look after Dean while Sam's out! I love Sam being such a protective and caring brother, nothing makes me happier than Sam taking care of Dean. This was a great way to start out my day, by the end of each chapter I'm always left with a warm feeling. This chapter Dean was in less peril, so I'm left with an "awww", whereas with the last one, I was left with an edge of your seat excitement, but still the same level of intense happiness. I don't think I'll ever stop grinning like an idiot *playfully glares at you*.

I'm a big fan of Protective!Sam myself. Dean so rarely has anyone to look out for him (and no, Castiel doesn't count in my books ), that I figure Sam needs to man up every so often.

I think Andy needs to do something to make himself feel useful, 'cause he's pretty much at sea here.

Also, I figured Dean needed a break for a couple of chapters. I've been abusing the poor boy pretty soundly.

I'm really glad you're enjoying it! The story's not done, not by a long shot. I haven't quite mapped out the end, but I'm guessing at least four more chapters, possibly even more than that, because as you may have noticed, I am long-winded.

~W.I.N.

[Fae]

*heart heart heart*

[Lady Blessington]

The JAMMIES!!! And the thermometer! God, I'm a sucker for a part with a thermometer.

I love Sam's laundry musings, and the LEG PAT, and the wrapping of Dean's ankle and tucking him in. And Andy bringing Dean soup and taking care of him. And Sam nailing the sinus infection diagnosis right off the bat, which I guess we don't know that's what's happening but it's in line with Dean's own suspicions which is just as good. I love the glassy eyes and the scowling and the submission. And the SNEEZES.

*happy sigh*

[obsessed]

Awww. Jammies. Your writing is freaking quality and quantity.

[telltale]

I apologize for the following incoherency, but... this chapter, man! Eeehfgkshh! THE FLANNEL PJs! And the temperature-taking! And... did I mention THE FLANNEL PJs?!

[W.I.N.]

*heart heart heart*

Aww, thank you! *hearts back*

The JAMMIES!!! And the thermometer! God, I'm a sucker for a part with a thermometer.

I love Sam's laundry musings, and the LEG PAT, and the wrapping of Dean's ankle and tucking him in. And Andy bringing Dean soup and taking care of him. And Sam nailing the sinus infection diagnosis right off the bat, which I guess we don't know that's what's happening but it's in line with Dean's own suspicions which is just as good. I love the glassy eyes and the scowling and the submission. And the SNEEZES.

*happy sigh*

Hey, this part I wrote SPECIFICALLY to cater to your prompt. There was a request for, in order: feverish!over-medicated!Dean, Andy's PJ's, and a thermometer. Your wish is my command. It's not like I didn't have an awesome time writing it.

Sometimes I think it's the little things that have to make the worst cognitive dissonance. Laundry, sleeping in proper beds, not living out of a duffel bag. Normal people take it all for granted, but I'm guessing it's something Sam would notice when it happens to him.

Awww. Jammies. Your writing is freaking quality and quantity.

Hee! You can blame mads3rv3r for the jammies. I never would have thought of it on my own. The rest maybe, but not the PJ's.

I apologize for the following incoherency, but... this chapter, man! Eeehfgkshh! THE FLANNEL PJs! And the temperature-taking! And... did I mention THE FLANNEL PJs?!

Like I said, all mads3rv3r's fault. Not that I didn't enjoy writing it, mind you, it's just not something that would have occurred to me spontaneously.

~W.I.N.

[telltale]

Well, thank-you to you and mads3rv3r both then, for MAKING MY DAY. There's just something about Dean being taken care of like that, and the idea of the PJs especially, that makes me go all wibbly inside.

[W.I.N.]

It was definitely inspired. Once the idea was implanted, it was easy enough to run with it.

~W.I.N.

Well, thank-you to you and mads3rv3r both then, for MAKING MY DAY. There's just something about Dean being taken care of like that, and the idea of the PJs especially, that makes me go all wibbly inside.

[Aprilcot]

I really really wanna know what's going to happen next!!!

Sorry for losing it a little with my last comment, but, yeah, it was worth it!

Please continue!!!!!!!

I NEED to see where this is going!!!!!

[W.I.N.]

Hee! No worries. It's quite flattering, and I'm pleased as all get-out that you're enjoying it so much.

~W.I.N.

I really really wanna know what's going to happen next!!!

Sorry for losing it a little with my last comment, but, yeah, it was worth it!

Please continue!!!!!!!

I NEED to see where this is going!!!!!

[W.I.N.]

I ran out of buffer today and switched shifts at work, and I had to fight this chapter every step of the way. The change of POV helped, but not as much as you'd think. Sorry for the lateness of the update, folks.

~W.I.N.

*****

Part 18

There had been more upheavals in the past year than in the whole of Andy's life put together, and there had been more upheavals in the last day than in the whole year, or almost. At least, that's what it seemed like to him. A year before he'd been just an average guy living out of his van, coaxing hot girls in with a little philosophy and the promise of the best pot available in the area. Then he'd discovered that he could make people do whatever he wanted to just by telling them to do it, and just when he'd been basking in just how cool it was never to get a parking ticket again and to get the occasional free drink, in came the Winchesters like the freaking wrath of God, murder and gruesome deaths hot on their heels. He knew it wasn't them, of course, but he couldn't help but think that his life had really started to go to shit the moment he'd pranked Dean Winchester into “lending” him his Impala for an hour or so.

He sighed, arranged the bowl of chicken noodle soup Sam had prepared on a small tray, and when Sam had gone he made his way carefully up the stairs, trying not to spill any of it and scald himself. He wasn't sure what sort of masochistic impulse had made him offer to stay and look after Dean. Well, as much as anyone could “look after” Dean Winchester. The guy put the “bad” in “badass,” and psychic powers or no, Andy was not ashamed to admit that he scared the crap out of him. Let his guard down for half a second, and Dean could easily hand him his ass, although he was pretty sure he wouldn't. He was pretty cool, for such a freaking scary guy. For all Sam was bigger and probably stronger, Andy felt a lot safer with the younger of the two Winchesters, though he would have been hard-pressed to say exactly why. Maybe because Sam was more like him, what with the whole psychic thing.

He paused at the door to the guest bedroom, feeling a lot more nervous than he knew he should be. It wasn't as though Dean had really given him any reason to be afraid. Sam had made it clear that all his threats were just hot air, posturing to save face, and Andy could sort of understand that. A guy like Dean, his main line of defense was his reputation, the knowledge that other people wouldn't want to mess with him unless they were really keen on getting hurt themselves. Admitting he was sick was tantamount to rolling over and showing his belly to the enemy. In fact, Andy wasn't sure that he wasn't more afraid of the idea of Dean Winchester being out of commission when the big bad —whatever it was— finally struck.

He stuck his head around the door. “Dean? You asleep?” he said softly, balancing the soup bowl carefully.

Dean was definitely not asleep. He was sitting up, hunched over in the bed, sniffling into a handful of tissues, and as Andy edged forward he snapped forward, sneezing fitfully, his shoulders clenching with the effort. “Hih... HEPTSCHUH! HHAISTCH! Huh... HUISHOO! ISHOO! HAPTCHUH!” He finally got the fit under control, breathing hard, blew his nose into the tissues, and Andy saw him grimace with pain.

“You okay?” he slipped into the room, put the soup on the night table next to the box of tissues.

“Whad do you thigk?” Dean tossed the tissues into the rapidly-filling trash can by the bed, rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Andy ignored the tone, reminded himself that the guy was really sick, which was pretty much guaranteed to put anyone in a bad mood.

“I meant that more in a vein of 'did you need something?' I brought soup. Sam made it, but it's still edible,” he joked, and was rewarded with a smile and a soft chuckle.

“Id thad case, I'b ogkay, thagks.” Dean's eyes fluttered shut, and Andy saw his nostrils flare just before he twisted away toward the wall, sneezing into his sleeve. “ESHTCHUH! Huh-EKSH!”

“Bless. You warm enough?” Andy held out the box of tissues, and Dean nodded his thanks as he pulled another handful out, staring at them for a moment as though he had a fistful of jellyfish in their place before blowing his nose again.

“I'b fide. Where's Sab?”

“He went back to Lesley's place to help her lay down salt and whatever else it is you guys do to keep demons out.”

“Good.” Dean started to cough again, and the sound made Andy's chest ache in sympathy. Tentatively, feeling a lot like a park ranger trying to tame a rabid wolf, he sat on the edge of the bed, held out the half-full glass of water that Sam had left. Eyes streaming, Dean fumbled for a moment before getting a good grip on it, drained the contents.

“I'll refill that for you in a sec, bring back some more tissues, too. At the rate you're going, that box isn't going to last,” he said regretfully. “You really did a number on yourself, there, man.”

“D-dod't believe id d-doig thigs half... hih... ISHOO! halfway,” Dean shrugged ruefully. “Lousy freagkig tibig.”

“Something tells me the timing is never good in your universe.”

“Your udiverse too.”

“Unfortunately. Hey, can I ask you a question?” Andy felt a little bad about pestering Dean while he was sick, but then, he was pretty sure that the brothers would be blowing out of town as soon as this whole mess was sorted out.

Dean held up a hand in a clear signal to wait, the back of his wrist pressed to his nose. “Hih! Gudda sdeeze... hiih... uh!” he pulled away, breath hitching, desperation evident in his features, groped for the tissue box with his free hand. After a few seconds of frantic but useless searching, Andy took pity on him, reached over and handed over the box, and Dean buried his nose and mouth gratefully into a tissue, clutching the box to his chest. “Huh! Huh-ISH-oo! HHEISH! Uh... huh! HUPTSCHH! HEISHOO! ISHOO! Uh... God...” he kept his head in his hands, breathing hard.

“Bless.”

“What'd you wadt to kdow?” Dean hadn't looked up, was leaning heavily on his elbows.

“You know what? It can probably wait until you've had some sleep.”

This time Dean did look up, then carefully lowered himself back onto his pillow. “I'b too busy sdeezig to sleep. Go ahead ad asgk.”

“Okay. It's kind of personal, so, y'know, I'll understand if you don't want to answer, but you and Sam are kind of the only people I know who not only know about this sort of stuff but aren't freaked the hell out by it all.”

“Addy, you're gibig be a headagche. Ad thad's od top of the ode I had before.” Dean let his arm fall over his eyes, blocking out the sickly light coming in through the window.

“Sorry.” He turned the empty water glass over in his hands, jumped up to go refill it in the bathroom, not caring if Dean thought he looked crazy. At least he was doing something useful, he told himself as he ran the water, grabbed a new box of tissues to bring back with him.

“Okay, here's the thing,” he said, sitting back down and perching precariously on the edge of the bed. “Are you looking for a way to get rid our abilities?”

Dean's eyes flew open, and he sat up partway, resting on his elbows. “Whad?”

Andy kept his eyes down. “I just want to know where I stand with you. I've heard how you talk about Sam's visions, I know you don't like it. Hell, I can't blame you, they come straight from a demon if your account of the story is right. The thing is... I kind of don't want to end up on the wrong side of your shotgun, Dean. I don't think Sam would do it, but you?” He paused, chewing on his lip.

“We dod't kill hubads, Addy.”

“Funny how that stops applying once you change the definition of human. Weber's dead, and don't tell me you wouldn't have pulled the trigger if you'd had the chance. I saw the gun.”

Dean didn't answer, but that was all the answer Andy needed.

“Yeah, I thought so. Look... I like you. Both of you. And I don't think I'm flattering myself when I also say that I think the feeling's mutual. I just have to know if I can trust you. So, I need you to tell me the truth. Could you do that for me?”

It had taken Andy a very long time to figure out that he could be more subtle than simply putting the whammy on people. It took more effort, more precision, and more often than not led to a splitting headache, but if he did it just right, a lot of the time he could just give people a gentle nudge in the direction he wanted them to go. He tried to tell himself that this case was an exception, but he knew there wasn't really a justification for it, no real excuse. He just really, really wanted to know. So he lent that extra bit of inflection to his voice, forced the information to the surface.

Dean sighed, rubbed at his face with one hand, and shook his head, obviously agitated. “I dod't kdow, ogkay? You wadt to kdow what I'b pladdig? I cad't tell you 'cause I habe no freagkig clue. D'you kdow whad by dad told be righdt before he died? His lasdt words? He told be I bight have to kill Sab.” He turned his head aside to cough into his elbow. “Sobe freagkig lasdt words, huh? Doh 'I love you,” or sedtibedtal shit ligke that, doh. Dot frob Johd freagkig Widchester. Id's all 'Protect your brother,' as if I had't beed doig that for twedty-two years, ad thed 'You bight habe to kill Sabby, if he turds.' Jesus freagkig Christ!”

Whatever Andy had expected, it wasn't this. He inched forward, put a hand on Dean's arm, tried to undo some of the damage he'd inadvertently wrought. “Okay, take it easy. Easy, Dean, calm down.” Dean twisted aside and doubled over, coughing, and for a minute Andy thought he might have done him irreparable harm, and he wondered just how he was going to explain this to Sam. His stomach twisted in fear, and helplessly he rubbed circles on Dean's back the way he'd seen Sam do before, sick at just how easy it had been to do this. “I'm sorry. Just take it easy. Deep breaths, that's it. Easy, now.”

He waited until Dean's breathing returned to normal, pulled the bedclothes up over his shoulders. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I won't do it again, promise.”

Dean just nodded, eyes closed, folded in on himself.

“I'm going to let you get some rest. I'll re-heat the soup later, if you want. Uh... do you think you'll be able to sleep?”

There was a tired nod. Dean's gaze was already going vacant, eyelids drooping, obviously exhausted, which did nothing to assuage Andy's guilt.

“Okay, then. I'll, uh. I'll come back and check on you. You know, just in case, so you don't have to yell if you need something.”

“Would you jusdt go already? Tryig to sleep, here.” Dean sounded more amused than annoyed, but Andy could take a hint.

“Right. Sleep well.”

*****

[starpollen]

Awww!.... Mmmmm! Love congested, feverish, worried-as-all-hell tough guy. Great fic! I can't wait for more!

[ID2006]

I love this... I love all your work... If you ever quit I may have to hunt you down cause I don't know how I lived before reading your stuff. And it's amazing having a fic that I can read a chapter almost daily. Words will never be able to express my love of your Winchestery goodness.

[youkaineko]

Eee, for some stupid reason, I just now found/got around to reading this piece of awesomeness! Sooooooo hot Poor Dean (and Sam, and Andy). I love this X3 (I really need to actually watch this one day.....⌐⌐)

[W.I.N.]

Awww!.... Mmmmm! Love congested, feverish, worried-as-all-hell tough guy. Great fic! I can't wait for more!

Heh. So do I. Does it show?

I love this... I love all your work... If you ever quit I may have to hunt you down cause I don't know how I lived before reading your stuff. And it's amazing having a fic that I can read a chapter almost daily. Words will never be able to express my love of your Winchestery goodness.

LOL

Thank you.

Uh... please don't hunt me down? I suspect it would be unpleasant.

I have at least one more fic in me, and as I said before I'm always open to prompts, although I reserve the right to not be inspired by a prompt and thus not write it.

Eee, for some stupid reason, I just now found/got around to reading this piece of awesomeness! Sooooooo hot Poor Dean (and Sam, and Andy). I love this X3 (I really need to actually watch this one day.....⌐⌐)

Hey there! Welcome aboard the Supernatural train! It's like crack, I tell you. Go watch it, you will never turn back.

~W.I.N.