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Oh, well. I guess you all know by now by now how horrible I am at titling things.

This story is set while Sam is at college. Do you all remember the episode called "Route 666" about a racist ghost truck? It was... not my favorite episode plot ever, but Dean's ex-girlfriend Cassie was in it. It was the first and last time she was ever mentioned, but apparently, Dean loved her, and apparently, it was a tough break up, and I was in the mood for a lonely, sick, miserable Dean. Also, I was thinking back to my start-of-college, homesick, lonely madness, and I figured Sam MUST have experienced this too, especially since he'd practically never had any freedom in his life, so college would have been a huge change for him. So... here you all are! I really hope you like it!


The sound of the Impala’s engine was the only thing Dean would let touch his mind. That, and the loud rock music blaring from his baby’s speakers. Everything else he’d managed to block out after the whisky and tequila binge last night and the rough hangover he’d had that morning.

“You’re crazy!”

Shit. It had worked until now. No. He couldn’t let himself think about it.

“You couldn’t just break up with me like a real man?”

No. Stop. He couldn’t…

“Couldn’t grow a pair and face me? Of course not. You’ve got to go feed me crap like this. You hunt monsters with your family, right? I’m supposed to believe that? Did that work on all the other girls you picked up?”

“Look, Cassie…” He had pleaded with her. No. Stop thinking about it.

“No, just stop.” She’d yelled. “You wanna be done so badly, then fine. We’re done. Now get the hell out of my house.” She’d been crying.

Dean began to feel sad. Then he got angry again. That was the last time he was letting himself get close to anyone. The last time. This was exactly why he never told anyone the truth about what he and John did. About what Sam used to do. No, he wouldn’t think about Sam. That would just make him madder. His rule had always been one night stands. But… he should have known Cassie would be more than that.

The anger brought out his recklessness. He made more than a few traffic violations, more than a few dangerous ones, in fact. After one scare, however, his anger had begun to ebb away, leaving him feeling empty. He pulled into the parking lot of a motel, got himself a room, and flopped down on the bed.

His stomach felt unsettled. All the alcohol was surely out of his system by now… So why did he feel so ill? It wasn’t just his stomach. His head was pounding, his nose runny, and his whole body was tired and achy.

Too exhausted to care much about his health, he climbed under the covers, letting himself think about Cassie until he fell asleep.


The next morning dawned too early. Dean buried his head in his pillow and coughed harshly for too long. After that, he didn’t have enough energy to do anything but curl back up and sleep.

The shivering began only a bit later. Then, the need to sneeze crept into his nose, which was enough to keep him awake and annoyed.

Eventually, he decided to just get up and take a long, hot shower, which would hopefully stop the shivering, and clear out his sinuses enough to function through the day. That was then the sneezes hit.

Eschhchoo! HuptshchCHUH! EhHETCHshuhh! Ughh.” He sniffled, making his way over to the bathroom for some toilet paper.

Even after the hot, steamy shower, he didn’t feel much better, but he knew he should get out of the room and do something, or he’d be crawling to get out later, when he felt worse. He bundled up, blowing his nose multiple times and stuffing some tissue into his pocket.

Outside, the wind was bitter and Dean’s teeth were chattering as soon as he’d opened the door. Sidestepping a frozen puddle, Dean found the chilly air was making his nose tickle. He muffled three loud sneezes into his coat, shivering.

HEH-mm-CHHH! HuptSHchSHOO! Huhh-ESSCHH!” This really wasn’t good.

He managed to find a decent-looking café and ducked inside for warmth, relishing the heat and friendly atmosphere.

“Hi there!” chirped the girl behind the counter, flashing Dean a warm smile. “Cold out there, huh? I guess winter’s here already.”

“Yeah.” Dean glanced at the menu, briefly considering getting himself tea or something, before shaking his head. He wasn’t Sam. The thought had come so suddenly, that the leftover loneliness resulting from thinking of his brother made him flinch. “Yeah, uh, it really is cold. Can I just get the house coffee? And one of those pieces of pie.” He grinned at a particularly large slice of pecan inside the glass case.

“Sure thing.” She winked, and set out getting his order ready.

Dean wandered over to a table, snagging someone’s used newspaper off the chair and coughing into his fist.

“That sounds nasty. There’s a drugstore right across the street.” The girl was back with Dean’s pie and coffee.

“Thanks, but, uh, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t from here, I can tell.”

“Yeah, I’m just in the area for a few nights. I’m headed up to Minnesota to meet my dad there.” Any other day, Dean might have flirted with the girl. Maybe even convinced her to come back to his room once her shift was over, but today, he just wasn’t feeling up to it, especially so soon after Cassie.

“Oh, wow. You’re gonna need a warmer coat!” She laughed and walked back to the counter.

Dean was coughing again, and he took a sip of coffee, which scalded his throat, the acidity burning. He grimaced, searching the newspaper for signs of a good hunt.

Some disappearances in a town a few hours out looked sort of promising, but Dean soon found he just didn’t have the energy. He ended up going back to his motel room and channel-surfing until he fell asleep.


When he woke again, it was night. He felt utterly awful. Snippets of his argument with Cassie kept slipping back into his feverish mind. They mixed in with his father and Sam’s fight, until he was feeling utterly beaten down emotionally, not to mention physically. He bent at the waist with a few sneezes, moaning when they hurt his throat. “Huptshuh! Eh’IISCHH! Huh’eschchuh!

Tears sprang to his eyes for no reason. He coughed hard into the blankets, sniffling. There was a tissue box on his bedside table, but as soon as he moved, goose bumps erupted all over his limbs, and he began shivering violently. He sneezed again. “Hutshuh!

Deciding his need for tissues trumped his shaking body, he slipped a hand from the covers and grabbed a handful, blowing his nose and slipping beneath the blankets once more.

The empty bed across the room loomed closer. Dean’s thoughts went immediately to Sam. What the hell? That was the third time he’d thought of Sam in the past two days. He liked to pretend he wasn’t upset at Sam anymore, just mad, and done with the whole matter. The truth was, he was still hurt his little brother could just abandon them like this. He wasn’t as mad as his father, who, upon hearing Sam’s name, turned stony-faced and avoided the subject altogether. Dean also knew that, however angry John still was at Sam, he’d sent Bobby numerous times to check up on him, and he’d even gone himself when he was in the area. Cutting someone like Sam out of his life was much harder than John had pretended it was.

Suddenly, Dean was crying. He didn’t want to cut Sam out of his life. He felt sort of stupid, especially since the tears were half for Cassie, but he just felt so horrible, he couldn’t help but let some of it show. There was no one around to scoff, anyway. Finally, when it subsided, he blew his nose, shook his head at himself. It had to be the fever.

About three hours of sleepless misery later, Dean, amongst fits of breathless coughing, picked up his phone. Sam’s number was still on speed dial. It only took the press of a button, and suddenly the phone was ringing.

Deand?” Sam’s voice, albeit a bit hoarse, was heartachingly familiar.


Is sombething wrong?” Dean could hear Sam give a quiet cough.

“No. It’s just… I guess, I haven’t talked to you in a while. I mean, really, I haven’t talked to you since…HuhESSCCHH’uh! Heh-HETshoo!

I know. I miss you too. Hold on a second, I’m goigg outside. My roombmate’s tryigg to sleep. Huh-kktschh!

Dean waited until he heard the clicks of two different doors being shut, and a heavy sigh as Sam sat down. He gave into a harsh coughing fit, and then just let the words come. “Sam, I’m not mad anymore. I mean, I’m a little pissed, but mostly I just kind of miss having you here… for hunts and stuff. Dad’s still mad, but he doesn’t hate you. And he didn’t mean it when he said he was done with you. And… it’s been really tough for us, too. We didn’t know if you were okay, or if some fugly had killed you before you even made it to California, and… ahhAh’huptschh-UH! Sorry.” Dean coughed hard, blew his nose, listened to the sound of Sam’s breathing.

You’re sick.” Sam didn’t even need to ask. “I’m sorry. And, I’m sorry I left. I mean it. I want to come back. Every day I regret leaving. Dean, I hate it here. I don’t know anyone, and the classes are so hard, and I stay up with six hours of homework every night, and I miss you and Dad, and I’m just in way over my head and—Huh-kptschch! Huh-ischhh! Heh-iitschhsh!

“Hey, hey, Sammy it’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t know anything about college, but I’m sure it gets easier. You’ve only been there a few months. As much as I want you to come back… This is what you wanted. And I’m not gonna just let you give up on having a normal life because you’re stressed out.”

But, Dean, I—Atschsh! Hutshch-uh! Heptschh-ew!” Sam dissolved into a fit of coughing, and Dean realized with a pang that he was not the only one down with a cold. He couldn’t tell if Sam’s sniffling and ragged breathing was from illness or tears.

“How long you been sick for, Sammy?”

He heard Sam sigh. “A couple days now. My roommate had it first, and the dorms are so small it was just a matter of time. The worst is, it’s not getting any better because I can’t just take a day off to actually take care of myself. I’d get too behind.” His broken, bitter voice suggested it was both illness and tears.

“You got a fever?”

A hoarse chuckle sounded. “Dean, seriously. I’ve been talking to you for ten minutes and you’re already big-brothering me? I’ll be fine. I can finish off Joe’s medicine. It’s you who you need to worry about. You taken anything for your fever?

“How do you know I have a fever?” Dean challenged.

You’re too stubborn to call me when sober. It was a toss-up between alcohol and a fever, and your coughing and sneezing answered that one. So, you taken anything for it?

Dean had missed his brother so much. After he gained control over the emotion tightening his throat, he spoke again. “I’ll take something in a minute.”

Good. Have some Tylenol. Something to help your fever.” After a pause, Sam’s voice came once more. “Have I missed any good hunts?

“I killed a werewolf with Bobby a couple months ago. It was the real deal, too. Actually living in a cave in the woods.”

Bobby’s not mad at me, is he? Huh-huhHuptschsh! Hih-yishh-uh!

“Naw, I think he actually admires you for getting out.”

I wish I could say the same.” Sam gave another heavy sigh, coughed hard, then cleared his throat. “Dean, tell me about your hunts.

“My hunts? Sam, you already know everything there is to know about hunting. It’s just been the same. Huh’ATSCHH’uh! Ugh. Tell me about college.”

So Sam did. He told Dean about all the classes he was taking, his favorite and least favorite teachers, the homework he was supposed to have done by Monday, people he might be able to make friends with, especially a girl in one of his classes, Jessica, who he’d made laugh three times last week. By the time he’d worn out that subject, he heard that Dean’s breathing, although a bit laborious, was slower and more even. “Dean?” he whispered. There was no reply. Sam smiled a bit to himself, whispered a goodbye into the phone and hung up, heading back to his dorm for some much-needed sleep.


Dean woke in the morning with a weight lifted from his chest. He had no idea if he’d dreamed up the phone conversation last night. He almost wrote it off as a dream, but the evidence in his phone history made him smile for the first time in weeks. With his promise of medicine to his little brother in mind, Dean went and retrieved the Tylenol, but it didn’t really matter. He already felt so much better.

~*~THE END~*~

Oh, my. I've written another. I can't seem to stop. Thank you all so much for reading it!

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Oh Zweeeee!!! This is an AMAZING piece of work!!! Oh god, I have just re-read itt!

Lonely, ill-feeling Dean feeling too poor to flirt, sneezing so sudden that he can't reach the tissues in time,

sickie-pie Dean CRYING...Gosh *_* You are SPOILING me <3 <3

Sammy regretting leaving and also being sick! This is too much for me to handle...

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two sick wonderful boys at the same time talking over the phone....GUUUUUHHHHHHH!!! *faints* :drool: :drool:

a wonderful idea you made real! :yes:


thank you! :wub:

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That was awesome! Poor Dean, all shivery and bereft and battling for tissues. I love Sam giving him that over-the-phone lovin', and the way you brought in the weather outside made the whole thing all the more real (and deliciously shivery).

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