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Some Oneshots [3]; [M, Supernatural. Updated 02/05/2014]


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Title: Maze

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: The guys end up in a maze, which Dean seems to have some trouble with. Silly oneshot.

Warning: Another early one, no spoilers. Set after Hell House.

1. Maze.

At the first crunch of gravel and Sam's sighting of the tell-tale black and white car hood drawing into the driveway, Dean kicked open the back door and seized the leather dog collar they'd been ransacking the house for. They hastened to the bottom of the overgrown garden and vaulted over the fence, landing sprawled on the ground in front of a seeming endless wall of corn. Sam picked himself up, darting along the row until he found an opening, and beckoned for Dean to follow.

"Who called the cops?" panted Dean, catching up to his brother and shoving the dog collar into the pocket of his jacket.

"Probably the neighbours. You weren't exactly Tinkerbell breaking in," Sam pointed out.

Dean cast him a mutinous scowl, taking another corner around the hedge. "Seriously, who grows their corn this high? Freakin' field must go on for miles ..."

"I don't think it's a corn field, Dean." Sam's face was sceptical as he gazed over their surroundings.

"It's got to be at least twelve feet."

"Dean ..."

"Like a goddamn forest in here."

"Dean ..."


Sam had opened his mouth to reply, when they both froze as a shout rang out from the direction they had just come. "In the maze!"

"Quick." Sam grabbed Dean's sleeve, dragging him towards a smaller path, leading away the house.

"HETSCHh!" Dean sneezed into his shoulder, continuing to run at full speed beside Sam.

As far as Sam could tell from the sounds of boots on the earth, the cops were following a path parallel to their own, but separated by several yards of hedge. He would feel considerably safer as soon as they were out of the corn, and he could re-establish his bearings. He turned to tell this to Dean, but his brother appeared to be struggling with himself.

"HEHH-Shoo! Kk'TSCHhh!" He jammed his fist against his nose, straining to keep his eyes open. "C'mon ..."

They took the left hand branch of a fork, which turned into a track that twisted and contorted until Sam was unable to keep his head around their direction. On the other hand, the noises of pursuing footsteps had vanished.

"A maze?" The frustration in Dean's voice was obvious.

"That's what I was trying to tell you."

"We gotta lose – ahh'Shehh!" He sniffed, his pace slowing a little. "We gotta lose the cops."

"You okay?" Sam looked concerned, although he kept checking the path behind them every few seconds to ensure the police hadn't caught them up.

"Uh huh ..." Dean confirmed unconvincingly, sneezing twice more into the crook of his arm. "EHH-Shoo! Huh'nghht!"

"Bless -" Sam's speech ended in a curse. They had rounded a corner to find themselves confronted by four men in uniform, three of whom were holding guns.

Dean backed up immediately, two of the cops sprinting after him; but Sam was forced to dodge a bullet fired by one of the others, heading for a path on his right.

The men chasing Dean were slower than he had expected, and he was able to duck into a sort of alcove in the corn, crouching in the thickest part of the hedge. His heart was hammering in his chest, hoping that he would be concealed enough to not be found. His nose was itching uncontrollably, and he clamped one hand across his face, breathing tenuously through his mouth. He tried to distract himself, counting the leaves on one of the corn stalks, but his vision began to blur as his eyelids flickered.

The track seemed to be silent, the lack of whispering or thudding boots deceptive. Dean's breath was hitching, imperceptibly at first, then short gasps that shook his shoulders. "ETSCHh-uh!"

There was a rustling sound close by, and Dean clutched his gun to his chest, finger poised on the trigger. A moment later he had lowered it, relieved, as a familiar voice hissed his name.

"Sammy? You get away from them okay?"

"Yeah, got ahead of them: same as you from the looks of it." Sam was mildly out of breath, his dark hair windswept. "I heard one of them get radioed – it sounded as though the owners had gone through their property with the police back at the house, and couldn't find anything missing. From what I could tell, the ones following us are on their way out."

"I s'pose it'll just get written off as an unsuccessful breaking and entering." Dean sounded satisfied, producing the dog collar and twirling it on his wrist. Then he paused, full lips parted, jolting abruptly away from Sam. "AHH'TSChh! Jeez ..."

"You're allergic to the maze?" Sam couldn't suppress a hint of a smile.

"I dunno. I think it's the other plants in the … huh … in the hedge … EHHSHhh!" Dean squinted upwards, mouth falling open. "Hrr … HUHShoo!" Seeing Sam's smirk, he held out the collar. "So, we gonna burn this sucker?"

"Sure." Sam's tone was decidedly patronising, but Dean had no idea why. "Just as soon as you hand me the lighter."

"'S in the trunk of the – ah." Something clicked into place in Dean's mind. "How the hell're we going to get out of here?"

"Eureka." Rolling his eyes, Sam started up along the next row of corn.

Dean lingered for a moment, half-leaning against a dense wall of the maze. "Hh'ESHOO! … HAH'Shoo! ESCHh-uh! He raised his head, to see Sam staring incredulously at him. "What?"

"Well, bless you, I guess."

"HEHHShoo!" Dean scratched his nose, along the line of freckles. "This is ridiculous." He was starting to sound congested, his eyes slightly red.

"You're telling me." Sam glanced at Dean's tense face, then broke into a laugh. "Dude. How'd you manage this one?"

"It's not my fault."

"Trust you to get allergies when we're stuck in a fifty acre maze." Sam sighed, happily.

"Quit pissing around, Sam." Dean didn't enjoy being laughed at; especially when they were lost, his nose was on fire, and his brother didn't seem to be in any hurry to put him out of his misery.

"This is karma, you know."


"Yeah. Itching powder, spoon ..."

"ETSCHh-ah!" Dean sneezed against the collar of his jacket, then rounded on Sam. "Hey, you already got back for that. Super-glue on the beer bottle, remember?"

"Sure, but you started it."

"Can we just focus on getting out of here?"

Sam prepared himself to retort; then stopped. "Left-hand algorithm."

"Excuse me?" Dean's sarcastic voice was muffled through his hand, which was shielding his face.

"You know. Assuming the maze is simply connected, you can just follow one wall until you get to the exit." He extended one arm, letting it trace along the stalks of corn as he began to stride with confidence in an easterly direction.

Covering his nose didn't seem to be working, Dean discovered, as his nostrils flared urgently and his eyes were forced shut. "HEISHhoo! ... Ugh. Just kill me now."

"You're sounding kind of sorry for yourself, Dean."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Doesn't really fit with the whole bad-boy image, does it?"



"Bite me."

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“Probably the neighbours. You weren't exactly Tinkerbell breaking in,” Sam pointed out.

That made me laugh so hard. I loved their dialogue, it was so in-character and witty and just adorable.

Also, the sneezes. :D So many, and so sexy.

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“Trust you to get allergies when we're stuck in a fifty acre maze.” Sam sighed, happily.

“Quit pissing around, Sam." Dean didn't enjoy being laughed at; especially when they were lost, his nose was on fire, and his brother didn't seem to be in any hurry to put him out of his misery.

“This is karma, you know.”


“Yeah. Itching powder, spoon ...”

ETSCHh-ah!” Dean sneezed against the collar of his jacket, then rounded on Sam. “Hey, you already got back for that. Super-glue on the beer bottle, remember?”

“Sure, but you started it.”

“Can we just focus on getting out of here?”

Sam prepared himself to retort; then stopped. “Left-hand algorithm.”

“Excuse me?” Dean's sarcastic voice was muffled through his hand, which was shielding his face.

“You know. Assuming the maze is simply connected, you can just follow one wall until you get to the exit.” He extended one arm, letting it trace along the stalks of corn as he began to stride with confidence in an easterly direction.

Covering his nose didn't seem to be working, Dean discovered, as his nostrils flared urgently and his eyes were forced shut. “HEISHhoo! ... Ugh. Just kill me now.”

“You're sounding kind of sorry for yourself, Dean.”

“Who says I'm not?”

“Doesn't really fit with the whole bad-boy image, does it?”



“Bite me.”

I like how you involved the prank war! And the brotherly banter is :laugh:! Plus SmartAss!Sam is sooo good!

I Loved the last part - Dean sneezing and Sam teasing is so cute!

Awesome scenario!!!

And last but not least: Your sneeze spelling... :D

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Good god yes. The hiding... the perplexed Sam... the body language... the massive massive amounts of sneezing. YES. B)

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Oh man, I love this. Allergic!Dean is pretty great :hug: and you wrote it so well. And Sam teasing him made me giggle.

“HEHHShoo!” Dean scratched his nose, along the line of freckles. “This is ridiculous.” He was starting to sound congested, his eyes slightly red.

That line is ridiculously hot, and such a great image :yes:

Um. Also. I REALLY enjoyed smart, confident, and windswept-hair Sammy :P

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I. Love. It :D

Aww, they're sooo in character, and so awesome and so hot and *faints*

Really enjoyed it, thanks for writing :heart:

You're awesome!

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  • 1 year later...
  • 5 weeks later...

My favorite line, "This is ridiculous." Um yeah. Ridiculously HOT!

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Yummm. mkai I know its a one-shot but this is so good<3 write something more? Allergic Dean umph;3

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That last part was hilarious, "bite me." Lol.

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  • 7 months later...

2. A Change Of Routine.

For a prompt on Sen Beret's meme at: senberet.livejournal.com.

(@Sen Beret: Is it okay for me to post this here? I never post on LiveJournal, but I saw your meme and couldn't resist a couple of the prompts. Feel free to transfer/ignore it!)

Prompt by anilkex1: So, there's another curse … because I cannot think of another reason for this to happen … so when one of them sneezes, the other falls asleep. Not for long, but he is completely and totally out. It can be affecting only one of them or both. That's up to you.

Crowley was getting a little tired of his routine. Some torturing of souls, a whole bunch of tedious paperwork, several crossroad deals to seal, and more souls to torture. Blah blah, same old. It was all so cliché. Sometimes he wanted a bit of fun; to really be unpredictable. To think outside the box.

The idea had first occurred to him when he was talking to Bela, and negotiating his claim to the Colt. She had described the Winchesters to him in rather unnecessary detail; but when he stopped to consider the matter they did indeed hold quite the potential for some light entertainment. One bow-legged hedonist and one moose, tripping up and down the country as an inseparable duo, and taking themselves far too seriously. The older one's soul would be his to take within the year, of course, but in the meantime … Crowley swilled his drink in the frosted glass, sipped it musingly, and nibbled on the lemon twist. He would need a word with one of his charming friends over in Maine: a meeting with her was due anyway, it had been far too long. Witches were useful contacts for a demon who preferred not to get his hands dirty.


At a shabby roadside inn in New Hampshire, Dean Winchester was pulling on his jacket, drawing it out to a lengthy process. He and Sam were currently holing up for as long as they could stay in the same place without drawing attention, spending long days doing research in the nearby town library. Sam would read through huge volumes of demon lore, some of them borrowed from Bobby's collection, while Dean scanned his notes to catch any detail he might have missed. Any way out of a crossroads deal.

Having been ready to leave for almost an hour, Sam unlocked the motel room door, letting it open onto the metal staircase outside. As the sunlight caught his eyes, his nose prickled and he turned sharply aside. “Huh'ih … huh'CHSCHhew!” Behind him, he heard Dean gasp. “That scare you? Getting a little jumpy, Dean.” He looked back at his brother, in time to see him slumping forwards. Sam rushed over to him, catching him under the arms to stop him hitting the ground, suddenly out cold.

Instinct kicking in, Sam looked wildly around, knife drawn, trying to see their attacker. The room was empty. He took a few paces around, but came into contact with nothing. Breathing heavily, he moved back to Dean, and crouched down next to him. “Dean? Dean?” The other man's chest was rising and falling deeply and evenly, and if it hadn't been impossible Sam would have sworn he was asleep.

Dean made a snorting kind of noise and sat up, starting when he saw Sam's face so near to his own. “Hey, woah. I know we're close, man, but this is too far.”

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You freaking passed out on me.”

Dean seemed to realise he was on the floor, and eased upright. “Hnn. Looks like that.” He shook himself, and headed outside to the Impala. “Well, I feel fine now. You coming?”

Somewhat weirded out, Sam followed him to the car. “Hey! Can you give it a minute, or something?”

“What for? I don't know why you're overreacting, I just fell back asleep.”

“No, that's not what happened.”

“For crying out loud, Sam, we've got work to do. Get in the goddamn car.”

Sam remained silent for the first ten minutes, gradually getting distracted from the strangeness of the morning by an urging sensation in his sinuses. He supposed it was the way the sun was lying at that time of day, low on the horizon so that it teased bright patches under his eyelids. He scrunched up one side of his nose, mouth slightly open, eyelashes quivering.

“You gonna sneeze?” Dean had glanced over from his driving position, and sounded amused.

Sam wasn't sure if he was nodding or shaking his head in response, mainly because he wasn't sure of the answer.

“You look ridiculous.”

Sam tried to scowl at him, but didn't quite make it. “UHh'HUHSHhoo!” He opened his eyes just as Dean's head hit the steering wheel, and the Impala swerved to the left. “Shit!” He grabbed the wheel, swinging it back to straight and climbing over the gear shift as he did so. He was practically sitting in Dean's lap, and God, there was not nearly enough room. Behind him, a cop car switched on its siren, the blue lights flashing in his wing mirror. Sam pulled over, compressing the brake pedal as steadily as he could while his limbs shook. As the police drew in behind them, he slid back into the passenger seat and did his best not to panic.

A female cop was rapping on Dean's window. “Please get out of the car, sir.”

Sam opened his door, and stepped out. “He's unconscious. He just passed out, I don't know ...”

The woman stared at him. “Are either of you under the influence?”

“No; look, I think my brother's sick – I have to get him to a hospital.”

“I'm afraid we're going to have to escort you, sir.”

It was then that Dean came around, blinking sleepily and muffling a yawn. “Morning, officer.” Sam almost wanted to cry.


“Narcolepsy?” Dean practically ran down the stairs from the emergency room, infuriated and anxious to get as far away as possible. Sam even had trouble matching his stride, having to dodge around groups of pedestrians along the pavement.

“That's what they said.”

“I don't have narcolepsy, Sam.”

“I know that.”

“What's going on, then?”

“I have no idea. It's too weird.” They rounded a corner, taking a short cut through an alleyway to the parking lot. They were within sight of the car when Sam spoke again. “I'm driving. Do you have the keys?”

Reluctantly, Dean dug a hand into his jeans pocket to pull them out. Something pressed against his leg and he looked down, seeing a ginger cat nuzzling around his ankles. “Oh, come on.” Dean kicked it away. His voice was frustrated, and Sam could already hear the beginning of a shaky inhale. “Hh'CHSHh!

Sam swayed beside him. Dean reacted at once, seizing his arms and lowering him slowly as the taller guy's knees gave way. As soon as he let go, he had to pinch his nose to stop himself sneezing again. It was only a second before Sam awoke, alert and unnerved. “When you -”

“Sneezed, I know.” Dean's words were unclear, his hand still clamped over his face as he fended off the cat with his boot. “Can we m'uhh … move?” His eyes were already watering: he dropped his other hand to Sam's shoulder, signalling for him to stay down. He could feel him get ready to protest, then go limp. “Uh'NGHht! Hh'TCSHSHh!” He recovered, swearing, and stared at his brother. Sam appeared surprisingly peaceful: he had rocked to one side, his arm extended in his typical sleeping position. Dean hissed at the cat to scare it away, then bent to shake Sam.

When they were back inside the car and Dean had soothed his itching eyes, Sam addressed him. “You think it's a curse? One of us sneezes, the other one faints?”

“Passes out; dudes don't faint. And no, you didn't pass out – you were asleep. Sleeping Beauty, lie for a hundred years and all that crap.”

“Whatever, it comes to the same thing. Curse, spell, or something else?”

“I don't know. Uh-hh, it feels like that cat's inside the freaking car.” Dean grimaced, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Dean, snap out of it.”

“It's not my fault!” He knew that Sam, an unwavering animal lover, had always been just less than sympathetic about his problem with cats; but it wasn't as though Dean could control it. “Who wastes their time on this kind of bullcrap, anyway?”

“Someone's messing with us, and we can't deal with it from the floor.”

“So we gotta figure out who we've pissed off. That narrows it down to anyone we've ever met, a few we haven't, plus a ton of spirits, demons, and unnamed monsters.” Dean gave a soft laugh. Sam, however, was squinting up at the roof of the Impala, vision unfocused. “You are such a hypocrite,” muttered Dean, bracing himself.

Huh'ihh … hup'KSCHhew!” Sam groaned, receiving a snuffling sound from Dean in return. “Dean, wake up.” Nothing. Sam elbowed him in the ribs, and half a minute later he stirred. “Sorry.”

“That's not normal, either,” remarked Dean, rubbing the place where he cricked his neck. “You sneezing so much.”

“So you think there are two parts to the spell?” asked Sam. “One to cause the sleeping, and the other one to tr-trigger … uhh'ihh …” Dean, knowing what was coming, punched him at the same moment as he sneezed again. “Huh'IHSHHhoo!” Dean's fist fell against his hip, the fingers loosening. This time it lasted longer: Sam called and nudged him, but a full ninety seconds passed before he woke. “We've got a problem.”

“No shit.” Dean tilted his head, groggily.

“No, I mean my nose is going cr-crazy … huhh …” Sam steepled his fingers over his nose, and held his breath for a few heartbeats. “Something's really getting to me. I think there's … uhh … something in the … uhh'HhSHhew! Huh'KSCHhew!” Dean's head bumped against the car window. “Something in the car,” Sam finished to himself, wincing apologetically. It was so persistent, an itching that had come on earlier in the morning, and worsened as soon as they were inside the Impala, showing no signs of letting up. Almost like … The thought crashed into him in a rush of conviction. He yanked open the glove compartment, and started pulling out papers and old junk food wrappers and hunting notes, littering the front of the Impala. He sneezed another time, uncovered and towards his shoulder. “Huh'KHSHYEWw!” Dean, whose eyes were creeping open, slid further down the seat again. Sam leaned over him, rifling through the pockets on the doors; then crammed himself as far as he could through the space between the front seats to check underneath them.

His fingertips brushed a bundle of fabric. He scooped it out, reached down a second time and drew back with one more small package. Opening the first exposed a selection of herbs, most of them dried and some slightly burned. The second was much greener, and Sam found himself shoving his nose into the crook of his arm. “Hih'UHSHhoo! Huhh … huhh'EHSHhew! Sorry, Dean,” he murmured. Keeping his face partly covered he sifted through the bundle further and, as he had half-expected, came up with a shining cat hair. Their furry companion in the alleyway had probably not been coincidence. He extracted his lighter, wound down a window and set the material alight, one packet at a time.

The last fragment had crumbled to ash when Dean cleared his throat, announcing his presence. “Should have known it was witches.”

“You think that's all it was? Someone we came across on a hunt, still mad about it?”

“Obviously. Typical petty revenge, witch-style. You don't?”

“I dunno, it's bothering me. It was so pointless, like someone was doing it for kicks.”

“That's witches for you.” Dean touched his forehead, tender where it was already bruising, shifted the gear stick and leaned on the gas pedal.


Back in his mansion, lounging in a leather recliner, Crowley smiled to himself and poured another triple shot of something strong. “Not bad, boys,” he reflected, lifting the glass in a solitary toast. I'll find a use for you yet. “Cheers.”

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Ohhhh my god it's like you just GET me. I had to read this so slowly because anything more just felt, I don't know, overwhelming and overstimulating. It was just that good. I'm not sure what it is, or how you do it (or maybe I am sure and I've just repeated myself over and over praising you over the past year or so) but man do you DO it.

And of course it's okay to post here!! Post stuff all over/wherever you want, seriously, I've got it all covered back on LJ, just pick whichever prompts you want and don't even worry about it (you don't even have to comment if you don't want to -- just post stuff here/wherever when you're done and I'll mark them as filled over there on the meme).

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I am loving these~ You are a fantastic writer~

As Anony said, your dialogue is simply perfect. I can tell you really know these characters in and out <3

And these plots are really well-constructed too! I'm definitely keeping my eye on this thread~

Thanks for sharing! :3

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3. Touched.

Dean's first realisation of not being alone came from a brush of something light, feathery, against his shoulder. He gasped and thrust his hand down to the floorboards beside Bobby's couch, seizing his pistol and cocking it. A moment later he lowered his aim, swearing. “Don't fucking do that, Cas.”

“You're unwell.” Apparently greetings, or giving any kind of notice for that matter, were considered unnecessary by angels.

“I'm fine.”

“Can you be fine and unwell?”

“Yes. No. Why are you here?” Dean ran his hand down his face, leaning his back against the armrest and regarding Castiel with an exhausted expression.

“It sounded like you wanted something.”

“I wasn't praying.”

“Some part of you must have been.”

“Well, it's not now.” His face tensed as he spoke, and he sneezed twice, rapidly, into cupped hands. “Huh'ETSCHh! Hh'EHKHSHh!”

“You are sick.”

“I know that, damnit.”

“I don't know what to do for you,” said Castiel, haltingly.

“You don't do anything. Go away.” Dean shifted onto his side, facing the back of the couch.

“You're being very obstinate.”

“Why are you still here?” When Cas looked up at the ceiling, evasive, Dean rolled his eyes and then sneezed. “Knn'CHShh!

“God bless you.”

“Why does that sound extra obnoxious coming from you?”

“Would you prefer 'God have mercy upon your soul'?”

“No. Just leave already.” He crossed his arms, hugging them over his chest. Castiel sat down in one of the chairs, upright and awkward as usual. Dean wriggled deeper into the corner of the sofa, uncomfortable under the probing gaze.

“I can't heal this for you. But I'm hear if you want to talk.” The last words came out with some unease, as though Castiel was testing them.

Dean turned over, slowly. “Why would you think I wanted to talk?”

“About Sam. In case it can … ease your mind.”

“Look, man, I don't know what your deal is, but you can just -” He began coughing, deep and harsh from his chest, and once he'd started it was hard to stop. His eyes were streaming when he did, so he brushed the sleeve of his jacket roughly across them.

“Sam needs to find his own way back. He has a part to play, as do you.” Castiel waited for a response, and when none came he sighed. “This is out of your control, Dean.”

“Yeah? And why are you here telling me that?”

“I'm here because -” The angel paused, frowning. “You're shivering. Do you have a fever?”


“That, I can help with.” Before the other man could move, he had flitted closer to him and laid a cool hand over his forehead.

“Hhh.” Dean exhaled, relieved despite himself. “NyQuil on wings.”

“I wouldn't call it that.” Another pointed silence from his companion. “It must be hard, having all these human weaknesses.”

“It's not so bad, when you consider the alternative.” Just look at my brother.

“Most people don't.”

“Right, the ones who are lucky enough not to have had the opportunity.” Dean's nostrils flared, and he jerked sideways. “Kk'HCHSHh! Son of a ...”

“Are you angry because you're sick, or from your brother's betrayal?”

“I'm angry because there's a moron with a halo standing next to me refusing to leave.”

“I thought most humans preferred company in this type of situation.”

“This human isn't one of them.” Figuring the conversation could take a while, and not wanting to talk any more, he dragged himself into a sitting position and reached to the table behind him for the bottle of whiskey.

“God bless you.”

Dean shot him a puzzled look, just before his eyelids began to drift shut. “Uh'HESCHhh! Jesus Christ, Cas, say that after. Or better yet, don't.”

“I'm sorry.”

Dean made a derisive noise, which became another round of coughing. “If I pray for you not to be here, will you go?”

“It doesn't work like that.”

“That's convenient.”

“We're not usually wished away.” Castiel moved into the vacated space next to Dean.

“Shouldn't you be worried about catching some kind of virus?”

“My vessel will remain immune while I'm inside him,” replied Castiel. “We've been in contact with more contagious specimens than yourself. And many of my kind were on Earth for the bubonic plague, first time round.”

“Bragging's not attractive, you know. And it doesn't matter if I'm contagious or not, if there's no one around to pass it on to.” The pain came out of nowhere and hit Dean in a wave, crushing him. He missed Sam so badly it felt unreal; missed the way his brother had been before all this. Before Dean went to Hell and back.

“What would Sam do if he were with you?”

Castiel's question interrupted his thoughts, and he glared at him, certain the angel had been looking into his mind. “Nothing. He's too busy doing mental exorcisms with that demon bitch.”

“That's not what I meant.” Dean took another gulp of whiskey, the numbing liquid soothing his throat, and ignored him. “Okay.” Castiel stood again, and disappeared without warning. Stretching his sore muscles, Dean contemplated that having his isolation restored did nothing to improve his mood. He rubbed one hand in circles on his nose and faced into the couch cushions again.


A battle was being fought in Sam Winchester's mind. He was in a ransacked office room on a high floor, standing over the corpse of a man in his late thirties: receding hairline, dark brown eyes still open. He was wearing a wedding ring. Blood was stained through the lower two thirds of his shirt, and had spilled in an ugly pool on the carpet beside him from the place Ruby's blade had stabbed his abdomen. There was blood on Sam's upper lip, too: he could taste the iron, and realised his nose was bleeding from the exertion of pulling the demon. He smeared it away with distaste.

The man they had killed looked like he could be an accountant. He probably had kids. It felt right to Sam, torturing the demons for information, for their heinous existance; and yet afterwards, when all that remained was waste and cooling flesh, remorse struck into play. Not that they usually made use of the knife, but this demon had been relentless and Sam was apparently running too low on demon blood to perform with the efficiency he had built up.

Ruby was out of breath when she came to stand by his side, her eyes skipping over the body. “You need more.”

“What I need is to get back. Dean's going to think something's up if I stay away another day.” If he doesn't already. Whatever Dean is, he's not a fool. She kissed him, and the painful bliss that was becoming so familiar whispered across his body. He longed for her, for her passion and her poison.

“I'm on the track of another demon,” she told him. “You're much stronger than you were, Sam; don't get stupid. Don't slide back now.” She moved her hand towards him, reaching downwards, and he stiffened – but she crouched low to retrieve her knife, and held it out to him. He made no motion to take the handle from her, eyeing the scarring on her arm that hadn't quite healed over from last time. Extending his hand to her hip instead, he massaged the skin underneath her t-shirt. His fingers skimmed the edge of her jeans; haltingly, as though he was waiting for a response. She took a step forward and he grabbed hold of her waist, drawing her to him. Her lips were hot on his own, her body supple as he pressed her against the side of the upturned desk.

Dean entered his mind again, along with the self-loathing and guilt that accompanied thoughts of his brother now. Ruby's nails were digging into his shoulders, which were still slick with sweat from before, as his hands gripped her tighter. He hesitated, air coming cool and deep into his lungs, and allowed his eyes to train on the door.


Emerging from a humid, surreal type of doze, Dean found that his shoulder was aching from his arm having been crammed awkwardly underneath him while he slept. He coaxed himself up and revolved the joint in arcing motions, attempting not to think about Sam, or Castiel, or any of the other freaking angels. It was easier when his eyelashes began to tremor, lids lowering to halfway, his breathing becoming silent, shallow hiccups. “Hn'KESCHh!

He made a whimpering sound that would never have escaped his throat had anyone else been in the room. The whiskey had tipped over at some point, and was dripping onto the floorboards. Dean righted the bottle, but his pounding head prevented him from drinking more. It sounded as though someone was banging against it; a hollow, wooden thumping. Wooden? He craned his neck to catch sight of the front door, as it was shoved open. “Sam?”

“Do I look like Sam to you?”

The gruff tone sent relief seeping into his bones. He came as close as he could to a smile, and watched as the man approached. “Hey, Bobby.”

“Only been gone four days and the place looks a mess. Where did that brother of yours get to?”

“Dunno.” Dean tried to appear nonchalent. “Left about forty eight hours ago.” He snuffled into the inside of his elbow, suddenly aware of the congestion in his voice.

“You feelin' okay?” Bobby came fully into the room, switching on the light and raising his eyebrows when Dean flinched away. “I take it that would be a no.”

“I'll survive. Cas came by.”

“And you think those statements are related?”

“No.” The word came out unclear, and shorter than he had intended as he gave an involuntary shudder. “Huh'TCSHHh!

“Hmm.” Bobby took a seat in the armchair, setting the keys to his truck on the table. “You know, you could do with a shower.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean sneezed twice more, unrestrained but away from his companion. “EHKSHh-ah! Kk'HESCHh! Ng-hh.” He rubbed a sleeve-covered fist back and forth under his nose.

“And some Kleenex, apparently.”


“You ain't cold?”

“It comes and goes.” He didn't object when Bobby tossed him his coat, shuffling it over his shoulders and curling up again. He couldn't remember where he'd left his own leather jacket, but supposed it was probably in the car.

There was a frown on Bobby's face, and an expression somewhere between concern and frustration. For a moment he seemed about to speak; possibly to address the Sam-shaped elephant in the room with them. Then he sighed, and stood up again. “You get some rest, Dean.” He ruffled Dean's hair as he walked past, letting him fade once more into silence.

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Oooh this is so good! Dean is so sad and so sick and so miserable and you wrote everyone so well, conveyed all of their tones perfectly! And that interaction with Cas was so sweet, with Dean being so annoyed and frustrated and Cas not being affected by any of it, and so cute how Dean had gotten even worse when Bobby came to visit. You're awesome.

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GAH!!!!! THIS WAS MY PROMPT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy Bleep! This is the first prompt of mine that's ever been filled! I LOVED IT!!!!!!!! HERE IS WHAT I LOVED:

1) It's subtle - it wasn't just about the sneezing...there was CROWLEY and STUFF and THINGS and then there's this ridiculous curse that fit in there and that was awesome!

2) It read natural - This was a thing that happened and they just needed to figure it out.

3) The confusion in both of them, and then Sam figuring it out and dealing with it. I thought it flowed so well and it made me just want to keep reading.

4) CROWLEY was a perfect reason for something this silly. Any random curse/witch woulda worked just fine, but Crowley made it perfect.

Thank you so much for writing this - I thought it was goofy when I came up with it (I am terrible with prompts), and I wasn't sure about how it would even sound in a story. But this....*smilesmilesmile*


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OOOOH WAIT! I meant for that comment to be for the sleeping/sneezing curse! THAT one was my prompt on LJ.

THIS story....GUH...It was gold as well. I just hurt for Dean in this - needing Sam and not being able to have him. And Bobby is always a win for me, so having him "replace" Sam was awesome and heartbreaking at the same time.

These are really really good, and so enjoyable to read.

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@Sen Beret: Thanks! It's a great meme :)

@Anilkex: I'm so glad you liked it!


Something short and very silly. I normally try not to write way out of canon but, hey, what can you do?

Castiel was in trouble, and this time it was bad. It wasn't Dean that was making him feel this way, exactly, (and for crying out loud, it was his vessel who was doing the feeling), but apparently Dean with a cold was a different story. No, it wasn't even that. It was the sneezing. Cas was aware what was happening to his host, of course, but he'd never experienced it before. He squirmed inside his trench coat, torn between wanting to get as far from the motel as possible, and not quite being able to tear himself away. His solution, although perhaps this worsened the moral issue, had been to keep himself invisible in the corner of the room. He was not proud of it.

Neither of the Winchester brothers were prone to illness, and nor were they particularly the sniffly type. He'd witnessed Sam sneeze on occasion, noted the extended buildup and bashful recovery; yet while the sight was far from repulsive to him, it had definitely not had this effect on his human vessel. Dean, on the other hand, was turning out to be a problem. He would wrinkle one side of his nose, sometimes tearing up simultaneously from the same eye. Upper lip quivering, his chest would rise and fall sharply once or maybe twice, (silently, not in Sam's vocal manner), and he would jolt forwards. The sound varied, but mostly it was harsh and a little wet, met by the back of Dean's hand or his wrist. The whole thing was fast, urgent, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Castiel's difficulty seemed to be increased when Dean sneezed multiple times in a row; which, as Sam had remarked, he was doing with much more frequency than was normal. Sam actually seemed anxious, and Cas supposed he might be likewise if it wasn't for the unfortunate and distracting reaction of his vessel. Dean remained unconcerned: he felt okay, he said, just itchy and kind of tired. And he liked wearing the hoody. He liked it enough to use instead of Kleenex, evidently, but Castiel tended to ignore that. Sam, in contrast, scooped a small pile of clothes from the chair by the door and motioned to his brother. “Want me to wash that hoody for you?”

“Not if you like your face the way it is.”

“I was just offering, dude. You've been sleeping in that thing; it's nasty.”

“We live in motel rooms. Our whole lives are nasty.” Dean clenched his jaw, stilling. “Uh'KHSHSH!

Oh, it was driving Cas crazy. Dean was fidgeting again, brushing the underside of his nose with the heel of his hand, and he knew there were more to come. Cas had noticed the two men never blessed each other – he thought Sam probably would for anyone except his brother, but Dean was barely a 'please' and 'thank you' guy, so anything more seemed unreasonable.

He was tensing now, his hand hovering a few inches from his face. “Hh'CHSHah!” His fist clenched, released, the knuckle of his index finger touching his nose barely, easily. “Hah'EKSCHh!” Cas could see the light mist on his skin, before he pulled the thick sleeve over it and raised the hoody-covered hand another time. “Uh'HIHTSHh!” With a sigh, Dean leaned into the chair back. “That's it, I swear.”

Bless you, Cas mouthed. He had never felt further from Heaven.

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Oh my god. Is it hot in here??? (Yes.)

The entire time I just kept thinking to myself, "Wow. Same, Cas. Same. Me too. Same."

Your descriptions are incredible, as always.

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BlueRandom~! <3 GAH~! Those last two were especially amazing <3

Anything Cas is my favorite thing in the world >w<~

Your dialogue, again, is just brilliant. Your writing concise with just the right details~

“I was just offering, dude. You've been sleeping in that thing; it's nasty.”

“We live in motel rooms. Our whole lives are nasty.” Dean clenched his jaw, stilling. “Uh'KHSHSH!”

This is one of the best things I have heard x'DDD I love how true it is to their characters, and also how amusing~

Bravo! I really do hope you continue, since these are all just lovely <3. (and if you happen to do some sneezy!Cas, I will promptly fangirl myself into oblivion xP)

Thanks for sharing! *floats away happily*

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  • 5 months later...

BlueRandom, thiat was so amazing. I loved the detail of Cas's observations and his moral dilemma as his body reacts and he analyzes. And I absolutely loved the talk about the hoodie, Dean's reaction and sniffling and ALL his rubbing and touching of his nose. Guh!

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I am so happy this thread got bumped. I missed it as I was digging through the forum :P they're so amazing I have no words.

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