Don't Fear The Reaper - (Supernatural, 4/?) - Updated 31/03/11

[BlueRandom]

Title: Don't Fear The Reaper

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine.

Warning: Not sure if there're any spoilers; shouldn't be any past Season Two at the worst, really.

Notes: Okay, I have no idea why I started writing this. I just felt like having a go at some Dean-ness. And I know it's a lousy title, but ... meh.

Part One

At the first crescendo of wailing sirens in the next street, Dean had let the body fall to the floor with a thump, silver bullet lodged halfway up its ribcage. The fight with the shape shifter must have been louder than he thought: probably a combined result of the house being semi-detached, and the numerous times he and his opponent had been hurled into the walls. By the time the reflection of two police cars had come into view in the looking glass of the front room, the majority of Dean's upper body was squeezing out of the kitchen window.

The inconvenience of suburban households locking their back doors at night entered his mind as his boots hit the turf in a disarmingly soft and slippery landing, and he vaulted the fence surrounding the yard. It was well past midnight, and he made his way across the neighbouring lawn with some difficulty, the ground sodden with the rain that was falling relentlessly. It took less than thirty seconds for his t-shirt to be drenched beneath his jacket, his jeans and boots weighted down with water.

He cursed under his breath as a flashlight sparked behind him, breaking into a light run when voices could be heard over the background rumble of thunder. A terrier barked from the next house, the flashlight's beam temporarily blinding him as he checked over his shoulder. Before he had time to regroup his thoughts, he was sprinting full out along a pavement in a direction he didn't recognise.

Dean's head was throbbing painfully when he skidded into the shelter of an alleyway, crouching out of sight behind a dumpster as the cops continued past. He hated feeling like a cliché; so amused himself by watching the shadows of a couple having an argument projected on the net curtains of the nearest bungalow. After allowing for a reasonable amount of time to pass, he emerged; jogging towards what he was praying was the edge of town, and the motel.

As the familiar building came into view around a corner, the rain was running in streams down the skin of his back, his teeth chattering audibly. Thankfully, the saturated leaves that littered the stairs of the fire escape leading up to the room were sufficient to dampen the sound of his clattering footsteps. He unlatched the door with a faint click, closing it behind him as softly as possible. The hulking shape of his brother was hidden in the far corner of the room under the sheets of one of the two double beds, head pillowed by his wrist. Sam had crashed out after spending the previous forty-eight hours straight chasing the progress of the shape shifter, attempting to pin it down to its lair. Chivalrously, in his opinion, Dean had insisted on finishing up, following the creature to its latest victim: something he was fairly close to regretting at that particular moment. A shiver ran up his spine, and he grimaced, clapping a hand over his mouth and nose.

"Mm-HHSHhh!"

Sam's head poked out of the covers, hair mussed and eyes puffy with sleep. He blinked several times, surveying the scene wearily. "Get a room, Dean."

"Hh'ETSCHH!" Dean straightened up, shaking his head so that droplets of rainwater scattered. "Go back to sleep."

Deciding that he was too much awake to follow this advice, Sam swung his sweatpant-clad legs over the edge of the mattress. "You get the shape shifter?"

Dean glared at him, and proceeded to strip down to his boxers. "No thanks to you."

"Are you kidding? Who tracked the thing down in the first place?"

However right he may have been, Dean couldn't overlook the fact that it wasn't Sam who was standing half-naked and sopping wet in a pitch black motel room. Interpretting the insolent stare, Sam threw him the towel that was folded neatly on the end of his bed. Dean scrubbed at his upper arms, aware of a tingling that told him he was still numb from the less than tropical downpour.

"Raining outside?" Sam yawned, stretching his upper body absently.

"You're just an ocean of common sense, aren't you?" Abandoning the towel, Dean buried himself in the closer bed, pulling up the extra covers for good measure. His nose gave a twinge, and he rubbed it irritably. "EHH'Shoo!"

"Bless you."

"Shut up." He rolled over onto his back, giving a grunt of approval. "Give me a couple of hours sleep and we'll get out of this town."

"Nuh-uh."

"Excuse me?"

"We're not leaving." Sam reached down, and flung a folded bundle of local newspaper clippings towards his brother.

Dean sat upright, surveying the highlighted articles with a look of fervent displeasure. "Sam, you realise I wasn't exactly subtle breaking out of the – hahh … AHhtschh!" He rested a finger on his upper lip tentatively for a second. "The house. There's gonna be fingerprints, DNA, the works."

Sam gave him a what-can-you-do sort of shrug.

"Thanks, dude. When it's your ass on the line we'll see how I feel about it." He scanned the newspapers a second time, reading more closely. "Why do you even think these are linked? Two suicides – one hanged, one drowned – a stabbing and a 'death from natural causes'. Seem fairly run of the mill, Sam."

Sam cleared his throat, the sound somewhat patronising. "Look at the times."

A confused frown, a scrutinising skim-read, and Dean's expression cleared. "They all happened at 4:30 a.m. On the dot."

"And there you go."

"That's it? And how'd you know it's not just some coincidence?" Dean screwed up his face, and for a second Sam thought it was with skepticism at his own assumptions. Then the tight jaw slackened, and Dean wrenched to one side. "HEISHH-hh!"

"Are you alright?"

"What?"

"Well, you keep …" Sam gestured vaguely in the direction of his nose. "Never mind. Anyway, think about it. How did the cops and the reporters know the precise time of death?"

"You know, they do the whole post-mortem thing and – no? Then what, Einstein?"

"This one." He crouched next to Dean's bed, prodding one of the articles. "There."

Dean's lips mouthed the words as he read them. "The guy's watch stopped? At the exact time? You mean we're dealing with a …"

"Reaper. Looks like."

_ _ _

[obsessed]

LOVE this. I didn't know or remember how well you wrote! <3

If there's more, I'd be happy to read it. And if not, I can still go re-read this.

In fact I might do that now...

[shygreeneyes]

Oh, my, what a nice surprise!

[crazy_cat_girl]

YIPPEE! More Dean! I love it...

“Well, you keep …” Sam gestured vaguely in the direction of his nose. “Never mind."

That line is my absolute favorite. I was waiting for Sam to catch on!

You're awesome!

[Lady Blessington]

Yes. Yes yes yes. This. I want this. This please.

Great images, great characterizations, great sneezy Deeean and inquisitive Sam. I'm SO HAPPY that this exists and so excited for MORE!

[iluvsneezes]

This is really good so far!!

[27jj]

YAY this story is AMAZING and your writing is really REALLY good and I like where this is going! Love the set up, Dean running in the rain:) We all know where that’s headed! I really liked:

“Raining outside?” Sam yawned, stretching his upper body absently.

Haha I know this has nothing, really, to do with the story but more just your writing but I really liked this part because I can just imagining Sam doing that…it makes me think of his upper body...sorry, sometimes my mind wanders:)

“You’re just an ocean of common sense, aren’t you?” Abandoning the towel, Dean buried himself in the closer bed, pulling up the extra covers for good measure. His nose gave a twinge, and he rubbed it irritably. “EHH’Shoo!”

Loved this line:)

“Well, you keep …” Sam gestured vaguely in the direction of his nose. “Never mind. Anyway, think about it. How did the cops and the reporters know the precise time of death?”

I love that! And how he’s just like “never mind” and goes back to talking about the case.

I also loved: Dean telling Sam to go back to sleep and Sam doing just the opposite, Sam blessing Dean after he sneezes and Dean telling him to shut up, and the sneezes!! Also, I don’t think I’ve read any reaper fics, so this is cool. Hope to see more soon!!!!!!

[telltale]

Notes: Okay, I have no idea why I started writing this. I just felt like having a go at some Dean-ness.

Well, yay for that! This is so good already!

[LovelyLinda]

Wow, you're a really awesome writer

I like your fic so far, it's like a tiny piece of heaven, I really hope there's a lot more.

I even loved the title. That's an awesome song of Blue Öyster Cult <3 Love that band since forever.

Okie dokie, I'm looking forward to more yumminess from you

Love

[ooo]

Ooh, I love your set-up!

And, um - wet shivery sneezy Dean = . YUM.

[BlueRandom]

LOVE this. I didn't know or remember how well you wrote! <3

If there's more, I'd be happy to read it. And if not, I can still go re-read this.

In fact I might do that now...

Hey, thanks! And there is more, gonna post it in a sec.

Oh, my, what a nice surprise!

Thank you!

YIPPEE! More Dean! I love it...

“Well, you keep …” Sam gestured vaguely in the direction of his nose. “Never mind."

That line is my absolute favorite. I was waiting for Sam to catch on!

You're awesome!

Yeah, I never wrote Dean before; but it's nice to write Sam's reactions. Thanks!

Yes. Yes yes yes. This. I want this. This please.

Great images, great characterizations, great sneezy Deeean and inquisitive Sam. I'm SO HAPPY that this exists and so excited for MORE!

We love sneezy Dean indeeeed. And more on the way!

This is really good so far!!

Thanks; glad to make you !

YAY this story is AMAZING and your writing is really REALLY good and I like where this is going! Love the set up, Dean running in the rain:) We all know where that’s headed!

Ahhh thank you for your lovely feedback!! I love it when people read the detail-y bits!

Notes: Okay, I have no idea why I started writing this. I just felt like having a go at some Dean-ness.

Well, yay for that! This is so good already!

Aww, thanks. Although there is a lot of Dean around at the moment!

Wow, you're a really awesome writer

I like your fic so far, it's like a tiny piece of heaven, I really hope there's a lot more.

I even loved the title. That's an awesome song of Blue Öyster Cult <3 Love that band since forever.

Okie dokie, I'm looking forward to more yumminess from you

Love

Thank you!! And it's a great song - it was on the episode for Reaper so I thought I'd use it ...

Ooh, I love your set-up!

And, um - wet shivery sneezy Dean = . YUM.

I know, right? So good to imagine!

_ _ _

[BlueRandom]

Part Two

“Dean? Dean?”

The insistent shoving at his shoulder increased. Dean groaned lengthily and tried to swat the hand away, getting tangled in the covers as the daylight rushed in.

“Man, you were out.” Sam settled a foam cup of coffee on the table next to the bed, presumably for Dean, before collecting his thoughts. “Right. There’s a man living two blocks down from here who called into the police station in the early hours of this morning to say that he thought there was –”

“HETSCHH!” Dean jerked sideways, then shook his head bemusedly.

Sam gave him an odd look, before continuing. “He thought there was someone following him; in his peripheral vision.”

“Sounds like he had a good night out.”

“Or he’s next on the hit list.”

“Sam, if a reaper wants to take out a guy, they don’t usually miss.”

“Yeah, but they usually don’t strike at a specific time of day, either.”

“So maybe it isn’t a reaper.” Dean slurped at the coffee tetchily, and set it back down. “That’s disgusting.”

“Get your own next time,” retorted Sam, scowling. “Any bright ideas about what it is, if it’s not a reaper?”

Dean held up a hand, coughing into his other fist.

“Okay, the coffee wasn’t that bad, Dean.”

“Yeah? Where’s yours, then?”

Giving him the finger, Sam took up a pen and began to scan the pile of newspapers again. He had heard about the man unintentionally; overhearing a conversation between two police officers in front of him in the café, waiting in line for coffee. There was no way to be sure the guys’ paranoia and the recent deaths were related, but it was too great a coincidence to pass over.

“Hn.” Dean gave a choky sort of snort, pushing his fist hard against his nose. “Kk’Etschh!”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Accidentally scrawling a line across one of the newspapers, Sam turned towards Dean.

“What? I thought you liked research.”

“Not the research.” Sam raised his eyebrows and spread his hands. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You got me. I just found out that the tooth fairy doesn’t exist.”

“Give me a break.”

“With pleasure.” Dean dived back under the covers with genuine relief.

Sam gritted his teeth, picking up the bar of motel soap from the foot of his bed and aiming it with some force at Dean’s motionless shape.

“For the love of –” Resurfacing, Dean examined the soap with resentment. “What, Sam?”

“Case? Witnesses? Potentially stopping this guy getting murdered?”

“You got a plan?”

He regretted the question an hour or so later, holding up an empty but reasonably impressive briefcase to shield himself from the pummelling rain. Sam had raced up to the porch of the house in front of them, and was ringing the doorbell with some urgency. It had taken about forty minutes to find the address; Sam hadn’t caught the man’s entire name in the police officers’ conversation, and so they had had to search through the phone book beforehand. This had not improved Dean’s mood, and was now added to the fact that it was the second time he had stood out in a rainstorm in less than twenty-four hours.

“What?” The front door had opened, revealing a man around a head shorter than Sam; his chin covered in heavy stubble, and his eyes bloodshot.

“Are you Mr R. Lawson?”

“That’ll depend on who’s askin’.”

Dean joined his brother, taking in the semi-finished bottle of whisky swinging from the man’s hand. “We, ah, got some questions to ask you. About last night.”

“I told ‘em. He was following me.”

“Who, exactly, was following you, Mr Lawson?”

The man moved sideways, lurching unsteadily into the rocking chair on the decking. Under the shelter of the porch, Dean wiped the rain from his face with the sleeve of his suit, gaining a disapproving glance from Sam.

“Th’ bloke in the suit.” Lawson squinted at the pair of them, incriminatingly. “Kinda like yours. But black. More ‘spensive-looking.”

“Aihh’HShh!” Dean snuffled awkwardly, carefully avoiding Sam’s gaze.

“’N then he vanished,” mumbled Lawson, paying no attention to the interruption. “There one minute, gone the next.”

“Nice one, Stanford.” They were back in the Impala, Dean’s briefcase flung haphazardly onto the back seat. “Freakin’ brilliant, getting the town drunk as a witness. Inspired.”

“If the guy’s going to get killed, then –”

“Yeah right, Sam. Did the cops sound like they were worried?”

“Not exactly; they sounded kind of amused, sure, but … It was early, okay?”

The conversation with Lawson had been less than flowing. Although the description of a man in a dark suit sounded suspiciously like reaper territory; in Dean’s mind, the cons outweighed the pros. Lawson had raved for ten minutes about the unreliable police force in town, before forgetting the conversation up to that point, and inviting them in for whisky. Dean might have been more forgiving, had Sam let him accept.

“HEHHShoo! – Shit.” Dean’s head had jerked forward; the Impala swerved and he pulled the steering wheel back on course as a car in the opposite lane let out a squeal of wet brakes and a blasting horn. “Fucking rain.”

“Jesus, Dean!”

“If it wasn’t like driving on a skating rink …”

They turned into the motel, Sam still gaping incredulously at Dean.

_ _ _

[LovelyLinda]

I love how Dean keeps sneezing

Of course not admitting that there's anything wrong with him.

And the drunk guy was hilarious^^

I'm begging for more supernatural yumminess from you ;-)

[Umeko]

the *okay you got me I found out the toothfairy doesn't exist* was soooo Dean! doooooo continue pleaaaaaaseeeeeee!

[obsessed]

Uuu.

And have I mentioned how much I love your spelling? <3

[Lady Blessington]

This is made of so much win. Awesome balance of case intrigue, off-duty boys and pants-exploding sneeziness.

[shygreeneyes]

Totally loving this. Oblivious Sam, cranky, sick Dean, and a really interesting case.

[27jj]

Hehe I love in the beginning when Sam wakes Dean up and then starts talking, and Dean just sneezes right away:)

“Hn.” Dean gave a choky sort of snort, pushing his fist hard against his nose. “Kk’Etschh!”

LOVE that.

Yay for more rain! Love that last part, too, with Dean sneezing and swerving and Sam freaking out:) I also agree with shygreeneyes, the case is turning out to be really interesting!

[iluvsneezes]

This chapter was awesome! More please.

[BlueRandom]

Part Three

Sam could have paraded a team of semi-nude cheerleaders in front of Dean at that moment, turning somersaults and waving pom-poms in formation, and he highly doubted that his brother would have noticed. He was gazing into the distance, face strained, nostrils flaring so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. Sam could see his chest expanding as he drew in a long stream of air, jolting forwards at the last second.

“ESCHhuhh!” He dragged one hand down from his forehead to his chin, in a movement that Sam identified as a sure sign of stress.

They were at the closest bar to the motel, Dean working monotonously on his fourth pint while his brother continued to search, sober, through the seemingly endless stack of local newspapers and documents. The barman was watching Sam with some annoyance, as though disappointed that he was a less satisfactory customer than his companion. It was a reasonable sentiment, given that they were the only people who had appeared in the bar throughout the afternoon.

“Hh’ETSCHH!” Dean blinked twice, trying to clear his head, and rested his cheek on the rim of his beer glass. “You find anything?”

“Nope.” Despondently, Sam folded up one of the papers, looking a little startled to see Dean’s bleary expression.

“’S what I was telling you. There’s not a –”

“Dean.” Sam hissed his name, clutching at his elbow as a man stepped into the barroom.

“Lawson?” responded Dean, in an undertone.

“The usual?” Mollified by Lawson’s nod, the barman set about taking down a well-used bottle from the shelf.

“What’s weird about that?” Dean scoffed; although he continued to keep his voice low. “It’s his local bar, Sam. And the guy obviously likes a drink.”

“Then why does he look so shaken up?”

As Dean looked more closely, squinting a little through the haze of alcohol misting his vision, it became apparent that Lawson was quavering in his seat. The lazy intoxication of that morning had been replaced by a jittery unease, and he was frequently looking over to the door.

“How would I know? Maybe his cat di – huh. Maybe his cat died.”

The space between Sam’s lips compressed. “Are you gonna be like this all day?”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, and found that the words wouldn’t come out. “EHH’Shoo!”

“Dean …”

“He’s there!” Lawson had leapt up from his booth, pointing to an empty space a few metres from the bar’s entrance.

Dean’s hand went instinctively to the inside of his jacket, to the place where his gun was concealed, but Sam seized his wrist, holding him back. Both of them were staring, aghast, at Lawson; whose initial scream had turned to a terrified panting. His irises were following a movement none of the others could see, the pupils dilated with

panic.

Sam’s eyes travelled upwards as he continued to restrain Dean’s efforts to reach his weapon. The large station-style clock on the wall of the bar was reading four-thirty; the second hand frozen at the twelve position. Lawson’s skin was turning a mottled grey, purplish hand prints appearing on either side of his neck.

“Why the hell did you stop me?”

The pair of them were stood by the back exit of the bar, the buzz of voices and sirens prominent in the background. The garish yellow of the police tape sectioning off the front was causing Dean’s head to pound, but all his concentration was directed at Sam.

“Dean, it’s a reaper – shooting at it wouldn’t make any difference.”

“But the guy was dying –”

“And if we’re going to stop the same happening to anyone else we need to keep a low profile.”

Sam was infuriatingly calm, watching Dean with patronising coolness. Dean felt his own temper rising; but it was overridden by the burning itch in his nose. He brushed his arm across it, until his eyelids began to quiver.

“For fuck’s sake … HEH’TSCHhh!” He sneezed towards his shoulder, rounding on Sam the second he had caught his breath. “Since when did you – ehh … HEISHhh! When did you stop giving a shit about people getting killed?”

“There was nothing we could do.”

“And what about Lawson’s life? … EHHSHhh! Fuck!” Dean curled his fingers over his nose. “AH’nggShh!”

“Can we just get you inside?” For the first time, Sam’s voice betrayed a fraction of impatience.

“What, you wanna go back in and explain to the cops that we could have just prevented a murder?” Dean sounded thick with congestion from the cold air that had come with the night fall.

“I was thinking more of the motel. We need to find out who’s controlling the reaper.”

_ _ _

[27jj]

Hooray! The awesomeness continues.

“For fuck’s sake … HEH’TSCHhh!” He sneezed towards his shoulder, rounding on Sam the second he had caught his breath. “Since when did you – ehh … HEISHhh! When did you stop giving a shit about people getting killed?”

“There was nothing we could do.”

“And what about Lawson’s life? … EHHSHhh! Fuck!” Dean curled his fingers over his nose. “AH’nggShh!”

I love how sneezy Dean is:) Especially in that part. Gah, so much hotness.

I’m really interested to see what the deal with the reaper is, too. It’s like an episode…if only the episodes were like this…

[telltale]

Ooh, there's more!

I loooove Dean getting pissed off by all the sneezing getting in the way when he's trying to talk, and the casefile is really neat. Great stuff.

[shygreeneyes]

EEEK! Another victim! And poor Dean sounds absoutely awful, doesn't he. That's too bad.

[swann_ee_song]

Ooooh can't wait to read what happens next!

....dundundun....(with Dean sneezing in the background)

[Lady Blessington]

What telltale said about the sneezing getting in the way. That. Rowr.

I love this so much.