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Six Fifteen


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I'm writing a multi-chap I know and I haven't forgotten, I promise! But I came across this awesome prompt and I... um... didn't take much talking into writing it.


By the third day Sam has given up on hunting altogether. Or, more accurately, Dean had consigned him to research duties at the end of the second day and then promptly removed the laptop from his grasp when trying to focus on the screen had sent tears streaming over his cheeks.

“Uh..Huhgh’TSHHyuh!” He groans and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow. “Uhhh...HehCHSHhhuh! TSHHHuh! USHHH!

They did talk about Sam just quitting town altogether, getting himself to somewhere he can actually breathe and chasing down another hunt. Right now it’s really fucking tempting. But things are looking like they could get pretty nasty, pretty quick for Dean and Cas, and he can at least, be there as a third pair of hands for if and when that happens. With that in mind, he’s attempting to catch up on a little sleep, since he’s had maybe forty minutes total in the last fifty-four hours. So far it’s not going well.

He sniffs ineffectually and gropes at the bedside table for his box of tissues, sending a box of decongestants and a bottle of eyedrops crashing onto the floor.

“Hey, okay Sammy. Come here.”

Dean’s hands are firm on his shoulder and he eases him up.

He’s just barely gotten himself sitting upright before there’s an urgent tickle in his nose, and he has to push Dean away desperately, blinking out into the room and staring at nothing in particular.

“HEHttTSHHyew! TSHHyew! Eh... UhhTSHHH! Oh Godd.”

He can hear Dean yanking tissues from the box. “Okay, bless you kiddo.” There’s Kleenex being pressed into his hand.

Sam doesn’t blow his nose. He’s learned from bitter experience that it makes him sneeze horrendously and does little, if anything to shift the congestion. He just scrunches the tissues in his hand and dabs tentatively at the raw skin around his nose.

“I’bm sorry,” he tells Dean, voice catching on the gunk and crap lining his throat, setting him off into a coughing fit that winds up in yet another string of sneezes. “You were sb’pposed to be doinddg research andd stuff.”

“It’s okay.” Dean has sunk on to the bed next to Sam’s. “Have you taken all your tablets?”

Sam nods. His head is heavy as fuck. The slightest of movements and he feels as if he could almost over balance. “HEHTshhh!” The sneeze takes him by surprise and he cups the bundle of Kleenex back against his face.

“Bless you. Decongestants too?”

Sam tries for a ‘hmm’ of affirmation, but apparently he’s not gonna get any sound out unless he opens his mouth, so he nods again, pressing the backs of his fingers up against his nose so that he doesn’t sneeze. “They’re crabppy.”

“I’ll say.”

Sam leans back against the mattress, trying to settle himself down. Instantly his nose is a stuffy mess of itching, and he rolls over onto his side crumpled tissue still pushed against his nose.

“TssshYEW! TSHHHHyew! Huh..uhh USHHyew! USHHSHyew! Jesus...” he mutters.

Dean rubs sympathetically at his shoulder. “Fuck. Bless you!”

Sam groans. “I’bm so dambn’d sdtuffy.”

“I know, kid...”

“It’s fuckindg heavy ind bmy face... kindda shifts whend I bmove aboudt...”

Dean sighs. “God.”

“...mbakes mbe ndeed to sndeeze.”

“Jesus Sam. I should drop you out of town. You’re clearly not doing good here.”

Sam shakes his head. It sets him off stifling sneezes against his wrist. “I’ll feel bedtter whend I’ve had sombe sleebp.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees eventually.


It’s a long, long night of trying to sleep. Sam clutches at his tissues for as long as they’re usable, and then braces himself for a sneezing fit before he tries to get some more.

He was right about moving. He shuffles, sneezes, then shuffles some more trying to wipe at his nose, which sets off another string of sneezes. In the end, he’s just tries to hold himself still, letting his nose drip, but whether he’s found an awkward position, or whether it’s knowing he can’t move or whatever, but every muscle and feels stiff and tight. He always ends up moving in the end, then invariably sneezes, and settles again for about ten minutes, before he starts up yet again with the aching.

It’s after six when he finally gets to sleep.


Dean’s bleeding when Sam sees him again. It’s not a massive cut, but the blood is caked down the side of his face, and it’s enough to make Sam jolt upright when Dean rustles his awake.

“HnnghtCHUSH!” He spins away from Dean and Cas, throwing his arm up to his face. “CHHSSHH! CHHSHH! Huh...CHSHH! Huhhh... Deand...HehCHSHhhyew!”

“We’re okay Sammy. Easy.”

“You dneed backubp.”

Dean shuffles. “God. Are you up to it?”

Sam nods. “CHSHH! HehtCHUSHhh!”

“I swear to God, when we’re done I’m gonna break into a Pharmacy and get you the strongest allergy shit I can find.”

Sam grins sleepily and wipes his nose on the back of his arm. “Thadt sounds fuckindg awesombe.” He gets himself to his feet, sneezing.

“Fuck. Jesus Sam, I’m sorry. I’m glad you slept though. You sleep enough?”

Sam blinks wearily at his watch. “HEHChhhSHHuh!” It’s six fifteen. “ChhUHSHhhUH! Ugh. Yeah. I slebpt endough.”


Prompt, by Unti,lUntil,Until:Sam is so so so so so stuffed up and he sneezes every time he changes position the end

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Hnnnggh... You have no idea how much I love sneezy!Sam~ This is wonderful!

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YUM. This story... Just, you... I swear...

Definitely made for me, too. I had a performance like a week ago, and I just had to sit on stage for like an hour and a half and not move and wait for my cue to sing, and I felt the exactly the same as THIS:

but whether he’s found an awkward position, or whether it’s knowing he can’t move or whatever, but every muscle and feels stiff and tight.

This was ME. My back is still hurting from it!

Poor Sammy! He's so miserably cute. I can't even take it. You write Supernatural so so so well.

And I haven't forgotten my promise to you about an allergic Sam story. It's in the works. I already have like 2 chapters written, so once I've finished my sick Sam and Dean story, I'll put it up.

<3 Thank you!

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I always feel so guilty for enjoying these stories!! Our poor boys!!

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So... I was talked into (it didn't take much talking, really) extending this in return for plotty allergy prompts. This is why I don't normally do multichaps - I'm WAY too easily distracted. So here is some more, but, also, I have a dilemna!

I now have plotty allergy prompts (and they're really good, trust me), but I still have 'More than just asprin and tomato rice soup' in prgress, so I'd like a bit of a straw pole as to what you'd most like to see if that's alright. If anyone's desperately waiting for a continuation, I'll do that first, otherwise I think I'm gonna get my teeth stuck into these new prompts.

Anyway, yes... have more story!


There are times when hunting sucks. There are times when it really fucking sucks. But to be fair to the universe, those times are a lot rarer now than they used to be. Plus, at this point, Sam is pretty thoroughly trained in methods of getting by. Counting silver linings. That’s one. It’s a pretty good one right now.

Six fifteen. That means it’s undeniably Thursday and not Wednesday, which means more allergy medication. And yeah, it’s the shitty non-drowsy kind of allergy medication, but Sam’s doing silver linings right now...so, whatever.

And Dean pulled them right the hell into a service station and bought Sam a double espresso. Sam didn’t even have to ask. That and he gave them the smoothest eighty-mile-an-hour drive ever driven in the history of motoring. So damn smooth that Sam could just about get by breathing through his mouth and pinching his nose and not moving an inch... and blissfully he doesn’t sneeze. He’s snotty as all hell, and his nose itches, but, hey, it’s something,.

“So, okay...”

Sam turns lethargically in his brother’s direction. His head is full and heavy, and moving makes his nose itch, but it doesn’t set off another fit, so the antihistamines must have started kicking in.

“Apparently, if this seal breaks, which at this point...”

“It’s a Mathematical certainty.”

“Yeah, and if it breaks...”



“When it breaks.”

Cas’ voice is tight and frustrated. Things haven’t been going well in the Angelic front against Lileth.

Dean sighs, “When it breaks there’s gonna be a surge of demonic energy, we’re expecting possessions, and Cas’ mojo isn’t going to work anywhere near it.”

“I will stay at a distance in case I am needed after the battle.”

There’s a flutter, and when Sam glances back over his shoulder, Cas has gone.

Dean rolls his eyes. “He’s gonna stay at a distance in case he’s needed after the battle apparently.” He looks across at Sam. “How you feeling?”

“M’mb’okay. Andtishistambindes are helpbindg.”

In fact, his whole face is furiously tickling. The meds have done enough to hold back the sneezing, but not to quench the irritation. But as exasperating as that is sitting in the car, once they’re up and fighting demons he’ll be more than happy with anything that keeps him able to function without bursting into fits. Silver linings, and all that.

“Think you could make it through an exorcism?”

Sam isn’t sure. But moving is setting off his allergies, so he’ll take it over beating demons off with the knife. He sniffles and rubs at his nose with the back of his wrist.

“I guess we’ll findd out.”


The car lurches slightly when they stop.and suddenly a more concentrated tickle suddenly breaks away from the now-constant thrum of irritation, sweeping very suddenly down the centre of his nose.


“Ah shit. I’m sorry, Sam."

KuhhUSHHH! Huh...HuhtISHHYew! S’okay.”

“You gonna be okay to do this?”

It’s a meaningless question though, because Cas can’t help with this one and there’s no way that Sam’s gonna leave his brother to it alone.

He nods, scrunching up his nose and steps out of the car.


Cas’ directions lead them up to a little hillside. It feels like a long time before anything happens. Sam wonders if they’re in the right place, wonders if maybe the fall of the seal wasn’t such a mathematical certainty after all, glances at Dean and wonders how the hell they got caught up in this thing in the first place.

The caffeine has definitely kicked in, and they’re a little way now from the town and its Goddamn blossoming trees, so really Sam ought to be doing better. He feels strange though. His head is really damn stuffy, so much so that he’s dizzy and aching right across his cheekbones, all the congestion feeling heavy and toxic under his skin. He rubs a thumb uncomfortably across his face and hopes he’s not in for a sinus infection.

“You cold Sammy?”

Sam has just about enough time to blink up at Dean and register the hairs upstanding on the backs of his arms before there’s a crack of thunder in the sky that makes him literally jump.

“Hehh’KSHH! KHT’SHHhh!”

He grimaces at the wave of pain that follows the sneezes and tries to push back the realisation that none of these things are particularly good signs. When he catches his balance and his eyes refocus, there’s a mass of black smoke hanging over them that is Goddamn worthy of an Apocalyptic portent.

Sam cocks his shotgun, hears Dean curse under his breath, but the smoke just hangs at first, and shivery as he was feeling to begin with, he could swear that the temperature drops a few more degrees.

In the next second, there’s a shift, and the streams of smoke dissipate, tearing off in the direction of little country houses. It’s not a surprise when the doors of the houses open and farmers, mothers, children, fucking tractors are coming at them.

“Exorcizambbbus te, ombbnddis imbbmunddis spiridtus...”

Sam winces at the sound of his own stuffy voice and wonders for the first time whether the ritual will sound sufficiently like Latin to take any kind of effect. Dean is moving in against the onslaught though, and he’s not so sure that he’d be any better in combat if their roles were reversed.

“Ombbndis satanddica potestas, ombbddnis indcursio indferndalis addversarii, ombbdnis legio, ombbdnis conddgregatio et sedcta diabolica"

He just keeps going, because there isn’t much else he can do, and he lifts the shotgun as he chants and begins to pick off breakaways as the they charge in Dean’s direction.

“Ergo, draco bmbaleddicdte et ombbndis legio diabolica, addjuraIbmbus te cessa decipere humbbanddas creadturas, eisque æterdndæ perditionddìs vedndenddumb propinddare. Vade, satadndda, inddvendtor..."

They’re really closing in on Dean now, and Dean is solid. He’s quick. There isn’t a person in the world who could handle the onslaught like his brother does, in and out with the knife in split second jabs, spreading salt around him with his free hand and sending the demons that were pulling in close flinching back with a hiss.

“Vade, satdandda, inddvenddtor et bbmagistder ombbdnis fallaciæ, hostdis hubmbadndæ saludtis”

There are so many of them though, and concentrating on the knife and it’s victim, Dean can only manage an erratic fling of salt around him. He can only keep them off as far as his arm can stretch, and until the demon that he’s knifing flashes and burns, he can’t turn back to mop up the ones that he’s missed. Sam can take down a couple of them, but it’s taking time to reload, and concentrating on the sight is setting off pounding in his head.

“Hubmbiliare subb potenddti bbmanddu Dei; conddtrembbisce et effudge, inddvocadto a ddnobbis sanddcdto et terribili ddnobminde...”

Sam’s stomach flips when one of them charges Dean. While he’s off balance another two slam into him from the side. Sam tries to clear his throat and chant faster.

“Quembb inddferi trembbundt...”

It’s not a great suprise when the demons begin to storm at Sam.

“Abbb inddsidiis diabbboli, libera dndos, Dombbinde..."

He’s braced for the first hit, if a little winded after, but his head is foggy and it takes too long for him to gather his balance.

“Ut Ecclesiambb...”

The second and third hits send him barreling over, and there’s a sickening pop when his leg twists awkwardly beneath him. The breath that’s left in his lungs is struggling between gasps of pain and shuddering unsteadily as the crash and the movement of the congestion make him feel as though he’s going to sneeze.

“HhhNgSHhyew! H’Ushhuh! H’TshUH! Huhh’UhhTSSHUH!”

He tightens an arm around his chest and fights hard to steady his breathing. When he manages to start chanting again, the words are coming out in gasps, but at least they’re coming.

“Tuabmb secura tibbi facias libbertate servire, te... rogambbus... audi... dndos.

There’s a rush of noise, and Sam rolls over and blinks at his brother, squashing painful sneezes into his wrist. Dean is stood, knife bared against a body that crumples to the ground, sending smoke billowing upwards into the sky.

There are bodies everywhere.

“Cas. Fuck! Cas!”

It really must be over, because Cas appears instantly, Angel-powers apparently fully intact. He works his way round the people left littered on the hillside. A few get up, but not many. There are knots in Sam’s stomach, and he has to work hard to remember his promise to Dean and forget that there’s quite possibly a better way.

Last, Cas rests a hand on the shoulders of Sam and Dean. There’s a relieving coolness in his knee and the swelling goes down instantly. To his absolute surprise, there’s also a shifting in his face. He lifts a hand to touch his cheek. It feels odd, but there’s air moving through his face again. Sam looks up at Cas.

“I think you fixed my face.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I was getting sick.”

“Awesome,” Dean grins, and claps Cas on the back. “You can stick around.”

They’re five minutes down the road and back under the shadows of the blooming trees, when Sam scrunches up his nose.

HuhhhAHTCHhhYew! H’AHTHchyew! H’AHTCHyew! ATCH’YEW! CHUHhh!”

Dean and Sam both turn in their seats to look at Castiel.

“What?” Cas frowns at them, confused. “I healed the infection, not the allergy.”

“Oh.” Sam sniffs and shuffles down in his seat. “We can leave town now, right?"

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  • 2 weeks later...


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