FILLED: Aftermath shangriladaMay 2 2016, 20:49:01 UTC
Sam's so viciously sick when they pull the devil out of him that for a second--for just a split second--Dean regrets it.
Sam's a heap on the ground, shaking, gasping for air, and Dean crouches down next to him and is flat-out amazed that Lucifer could hang out in his kid's body without showing a shade of this. Sure, he's seen demons walk around in bodies a hair away from death, limping around on shredded legs like they're an inconvenience, but he doesn't know how Lucifer used Sam's body to breathe without activating that hollow sucking sound inside his lungs, how he bit back the reflex to cough and cough and endlessly cough like Sam's doing now.
A thousand years ago, when Sam was possessed by little ol' Meg, he caught a cold after, because his delicate little immune system didn't like the cigarettes and germy crap Meg put him through without a thought. That was enough for him to catch a cold.
Whatever Lucifer was doing to Sam, the whole time keeping up appearances with those slimy smiles and linen suits, was enough to give him lungs swollen and clogged shut and a fever like Dean's never seen.
And what's he supposed to do, take him to a hospital?
Please. Look around.
**
Chitaqua's just about empty. A few civvies made it back, but most of them are driving the hell away from here because starving out on dusty roads is better than sticking around the place where the devil made them all do it. Cas and Dean, Sam suspended between them, stagger past a car that peels out of there like they're...well.
The devil made them do it.
They shove Sam down on Dean's filthy mattress, and Dean keeps a hand on his forehead while Cas buzzes around, getting whatever pills he has in his stash that might help, boiling water.
Sam moans, chokes, burns. He coughs like he's crying.
**
"Let me go out." Sam's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the frame, stifling a cough into his wrist between words.
Dean's at the table, carving a stick into nothing. "Three weeks ago you were practically comatose, now you want to go for a drive?"
"Yeah, three weeks."
"I almost lost you, Sam."
"You did lose me," he says.
**
The fever's always worse at night. The sit huddled up against the wall, Sam burrowed under Dean's arm with his forehead pressed so hard against Dean's chest that maybe he'll slip in between his ribs, live inside Dean's healthy lungs.
"Cas will be back soon, bud," Dean says. "We'll try a different antibiotic."
RE: FILLED: AftermathlennelleMay 2 2016, 21:02:22 UTC
"I almost lost you, Sam." "You did lose me," he says. Oh God that broke my heart! Also, 'They sit huddled up against the wall, Sam burrowed under Dean's arm with his forehead pressed so hard against Dean's chest that maybe he'll slip in between his ribs, live inside Dean's healthy lungs' that might be the most beautiful line ever!
Sam's a heap on the ground, shaking, gasping for air, and Dean crouches down next to him and is flat-out amazed that Lucifer could hang out in his kid's body without showing a shade of this. Sure, he's seen demons walk around in bodies a hair away from death, limping around on shredded legs like they're an inconvenience, but he doesn't know how Lucifer used Sam's body to breathe without activating that hollow sucking sound inside his lungs, how he bit back the reflex to cough and cough and endlessly cough like Sam's doing now.
A thousand years ago, when Sam was possessed by little ol' Meg, he caught a cold after, because his delicate little immune system didn't like the cigarettes and germy crap Meg put him through without a thought. That was enough for him to catch a cold.
Whatever Lucifer was doing to Sam, the whole time keeping up appearances with those slimy smiles and linen suits, was enough to give him lungs swollen and clogged shut and a fever like Dean's never seen.
And what's he supposed to do, take him to a hospital?
Please. Look around.
**
Chitaqua's just about empty. A few civvies made it back, but most of them are driving the hell away from here because starving out on dusty roads is better than sticking around the place where the devil made them all do it. Cas and Dean, Sam suspended between them, stagger past a car that peels out of there like they're...well.
The devil made them do it.
They shove Sam down on Dean's filthy mattress, and Dean keeps a hand on his forehead while Cas buzzes around, getting whatever pills he has in his stash that might help, boiling water.
Sam moans, chokes, burns. He coughs like he's crying.
**
"Let me go out." Sam's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the frame, stifling a cough into his wrist between words.
Dean's at the table, carving a stick into nothing. "Three weeks ago you were practically comatose, now you want to go for a drive?"
"Yeah, three weeks."
"I almost lost you, Sam."
"You did lose me," he says.
**
The fever's always worse at night. The sit huddled up against the wall, Sam burrowed under Dean's arm with his forehead pressed so hard against Dean's chest that maybe he'll slip in between his ribs, live inside Dean's healthy lungs.
"Cas will be back soon, bud," Dean says. "We'll try a different antibiotic."
"It's getting better, right?"
"Yeah, Sammy. It's getting better."
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"You did lose me," he says.
Oh God that broke my heart!
Also, 'They sit huddled up against the wall, Sam burrowed under Dean's arm with his forehead pressed so hard against Dean's chest that maybe he'll slip in between his ribs, live inside Dean's healthy lungs' that might be the most beautiful line ever!
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