It's our 6-month anniversary!
OMG YOU GUYS!
Can you believe that it's been six months already? 282 members, 347 people watching! And it's all thanks to YOU! You fabulous people, you!
You know what that means, right?
Comment-fic!
Hurting Sam is a necessary part of celebrating our six-month anniversary. So have at it!
( Read more... )
Can you believe that it's been six months already? 282 members, 347 people watching! And it's all thanks to YOU! You fabulous people, you!
You know what that means, right?
Comment-fic!
Hurting Sam is a necessary part of celebrating our six-month anniversary. So have at it!
( Read more... )
***
One year.
That’s how long it takes.
Dean doesn’t even know if Sam is real at first. There’s holy water splashing, salt throwing, knife wielding, and finally hugging and crying when it turns out Sam is really Sam.
“I don’t know how I got out, Dean,” Sam whispers, snot and tears running down his face. He looks toward Lisa’s house, can see her and Ben peeking through the curtains, watching the reunion that’s taking place in their driveway.
Dean brings Sam inside, lets Lisa have a turn hugging him before he’s got Sam around the shoulders again and is leading him to the couch.
They sit without talking for a while, the sounds of sniffles the only thing interrupting the silence.
When Sam is no longer crying, he’s still trembling, curling in on himself and wrapping his giant arms around himself, and that’s when Dean realizes there’s something wrong. Besides the whole, my-brother-just-got-out-of-hell-something, that is.
“You just need some sleep,” Dean says, answering a question no one asked, as he guides Sam to the spare bedroom down the hall. Lisa and Ben stay in the kitchen.
He gets Sam out of his clothes, ignores Sam’s protests that he’s fine, doesn’t need sleep, and tucks him under a heap of blankets. When he starts to leave, Sam makes a small sound, pulls a hand out from under the blankets and reaches hesitantly toward Dean.
“Stay?”
Dean stays.
While Sam sleeps, Dean studies him. He’s imagined this moment for a long time.
***
The coughing starts almost immediately, and then it occurs to Dean that maybe this isn’t the start.
“You’ve been sick a while?” He asks quietly as he hands Sam a glass of water, and Sam nods, shivering.
“Can’t believe I didn’t notice at first,” Dean says quietly. Sam snorts.
“Not that big of a deal,” he says, but that’s before he’s coughing again, and sneezing all over the place, and Dean makes him use toilet paper to blow his nose because there’s no Kleenex in the spare bedroom.
“We’ll get you some stuff tomorrow,” Dean tells him, before he remembers they aren’t in a motel room and that Lisa probably has a whole medicine cabinet full of cold medicine and cough syrup.
He wouldn’t know. He’s never had to use it.
***
Sam is running a fever the next day. Lisa prepares a tray with orange juice and tissues and a thermometer and leaves it on the dresser before she goes to work.
“Ben’s at school. He has practice afterward, but I’ll pick him up. Let me know if you need anything.” She gives Dean a quick kiss and Sam a quick smile before she’s gone.
When Sam isn’t sleeping, he’s sneezing or coughing. When he’s not sneezing or coughing, he’s blowing his nose and shivering. Mostly he tries to do all of it at the same time, which sounds painful.
“Drink some juice,” Dean tells Sam when he’s awake, like Sam Winchester alive and drinking orange juice is the most normal thing on the planet.
“Get some sleep,” he orders when Sam gets tired and uncomfortable, and Sam sneezes and shivers and coughs, but closes his eyes.
“I missed you,” Dean murmurs when Sam’s asleep.
***
Sam’s miserable for the next five days, and it’s the worst cold he’s ever had. It keeps him in bed most of the time.
He’s always cold, too, and Dean keeps bringing him blankets until there’s no more blankets left in the house, but nothing seems to help. He finally remembers something he’s been keeping in the trunk of the Impala, out of sight but never quite out of mind.
“I’ll be right back, Sam,” he says, and Sam sneezes four times and then Dean is back.
“Is that…is that mine?” Sam asks when he sees what Dean’s holding out to him. “You saved it?”
“Course I saved it,’ Dean answers gruffly. “Put it on.”
Sam takes the sweatshirt from Dean, his sweatshirt, his sweatshirt that
Dean had saved, and he suddenly doesn’t feel that crappy.
It even smells like Dean, and a little like the Impala.
“Thanks.”
***
Three days.
That’s how much longer it takes until Sam is fully recovered, but Dean doesn’t care about time anymore.
He’s just glad to have his brother back.
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Awesome, I loved it! ♥
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