from prompt to story
For awhile now I've wanted to show the sometimes drastic progressions my stories will take from the first draft to what I actually post. I received a prompt from shuffles on friday and this was one of those stories that changed quite a bit before I got the final draft.
So here now for your amusement [if your bored this might prove interesting...or maybe not ^_~]
My own notes on changes will be in bold.
This is the very first draft I wrote and sent to Shuffles for approval
tick, tick, tick...
"Sam," Dean growled the name, voice rough from sleep.
tick, tick, tick, tick
Dean rolled over on the lumpy bed with a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets down to his waist; the motel room felt stuffy, hot, making sleep impossible to find. Cracking open one eye Dean blearily saw his little brother seating at the tiny desk laptop almost completely hidden behind his lanky frame.
He briefly considered trying again to get his brother's attention but as Dean was feeling a little cooler now that the blankets were mostly gone he decided it was too much effort.
tick, tick...click.....click....
"Sammy..." the name barely escaped through chattering teeth.
Dean was curled into a tight ball on the center of his bed. The room that had been stifling only a little while before was freezing now. He fumbled for the blankets he'd discarded every muscle trembling from both the cold temperature and effort. Forcing heavy lids to open Dean saw that Sam was still seated at his laptop; shoulders hunched they way he did when he was interested in what he was reading.
-Don't you sleep?- he thought darkly but he couldn't seem to get his chattering teeth to cooperate enough to form the words.
Click...tick, tick, tick...
The room was stifling again when Dean woke; his skin feeling dry and stretch tight across his body.
tick, tick, tick, tick...
He didn't feel like he'd managed more than an hour of sleep and Sam was still working on that bloody laptop.
"Stop it Sam!" he roared, his frustration actually managing to carry across the room.
"What?" Sam asked.
Dean forced himself into a sitting position, the blankets tumbling away from his hot skin. "Stop playing with the temperature," he growled scrubbing a hand down his face. "It was amusing when we were kids," he continued dropping elbows onto his knees.
Sam turned in his chair the meger illumination from the laptop making his expression hard to read. "Dean what are you talking about?" Sam asked, a note of concern in his voice.
"One minute you're cold the next minute you're hot?" he questioned with a shake of his head. "What's going on Sam?"
"Dean, I haven't touched the thermostat," Sam said slowly as he got up from his chair. "Are you feeling alright?" his brother asked crossing the room to Dean's bed.
"I'm tired," he said pointedly, "I'd like to get some sleep."
Sam's hands landed on the back of his neck and his forehead simultaneously to keep him from pulling away. "Dude, you've got a fever," Sam told him bluntly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Dean glared at his brother fighting to keep his eyes opened. "Do not," he returned petulantly.
"Let me take a look at your arm," Sam said with a frustrated sigh as he reached for the limb. "You told me you'd clean it."
"I did," Dean defended looking down at his bandaged arm. He'd all but forgotten about the gash he'd received in their last hunt.
The younger Winchester peeled aside the gauze relieving an angry looking cut on Dean's forearm. "Apparently, you didn't clean it well enough," Sam said with a sigh. "Wait here I'll get the first aid kit."
I'd like to state for the record that I felt this version needed work. At the same time I was trying to keep it short my version of a 'drabble'
It was agreed that more needed to be added to the ending of the story. I decided to move the injury that had caused the infection as a cut on Dean's arm would be too easy for Sam to get to and take a look at himself once they'd finished the hunt.
Which lead me into this version, which only changed after this paragraph:
Dean glared at his brother, fighting to keep his eyes opened. "Do not," he returned petulantly.
Sam shook his head at Dean's useless denial and pulled the blankets off his brother's legs. “Let me see your hip,” he instructed trying to push Dean back to lying down.
Dean attempted to knock the hands away with a hiss of pain. “Its fine,” he forced some strength into his voice; trying to counteract the weakness he felt in his body.
“You said you'd take care of it,” Sam's tone was accusatory.
“I did,” Dean glared, knowing he was going to loose the fight on this one.
“Obviously you missed something.” The younger hunter said bluntly, changing tactics as he got up from the bed walking into the bathroom.
The older Winchester looked down at his right hip; he’d all but forgotten about the injury his brain still fuzzy from his attempts at sleep. He’d refused to let Sam help him take care of it when they’d got back earlier that evening.
“Here.”
Dean jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice; totally unaware that he’d come back into the room. His brother was holding out a bottle of water and two pills. Dean took them without complaint, noticing now that the worst of the heat he was feeling seemed to be originating from his hip and not the room.
Sam sighed; an all too familiar sound. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he demanded rhetorically as he walked back into the bathroom.
“I didn’t ignore it,” Dean defended, slowly lying back on his bed.
“No, you just had to refuse help and now you’ve got an infection and I don’t think we have enough antibiotics to take care of it.” Sam fumed coming back out with their first aid kit and a damp cloth.
Dean could easily read the worry on his brother’s face before Sam dropped the cloth across his eyes. The cold water he’d soaked it with sent a shiver running down Dean’s entire body and he quickly lifted it from his eyes.
“Hey,” Sam reprimanded taking the cloth only to replace it on Dean’s forehead. “Leave it. We need to get your temperature down, unless you want to make a trip to the ER.”
“No ER,” Dean said with a slight shake of his head. It was bad enough having Sam tend the wound; the last thing Dean wanted was some stranger doing it.
The mattress dipped when Sam sat down and Dean watched through partially opened eyes as his brother took hold of the hem of his shorts. He was relieved for the moment to have the fever knowing the flush of embarrassment he felt wouldn’t show.
“Damn,” Sam breathed the word as he peeled away the last of the bloodied gauze. “What did you cut yourself on?” he asked cool hands probing the skin on either side of the gash.
Dean shrugged eyes closed tight against the pain. “Was too busy trying to keep my head to notice.”
however the problem I found with this path was I could figure out where I wanted the story to end. It felt like it was getting messy to me. I couldn't seem to get inside the story, kept feeling like I was just floating on top with no real idea what either of the boys were thinking.
So I decided to remove the injury altogether and see where that would take me. Again the beginning stay the same
“Right Dean, ‘cause it’s much more likely I’m sitting here playing with the thermostat.” Sam said dryly, he walked across the room to his bag digging through it for a bottle of pills.
The older Winchester raised a hand to rub across his short hair not liking the tremble he felt and saw in the limb. His entire body ached, betraying him. Dean hated being sick but he doubted there was anyone alive who actually enjoyed it.
“Here take these,” Sam instructed handing Dean a couple of pills and an open bottle of water. “Drink all of it,” he added heading for the bathroom.
“Yes Mom,” he replied sarcastically downing the pills with a mouthful of water. Dean drank about half the bottle before putting it aside; he just wanted to sleep.
Dean felt the mattress dip when Sam sat down beside him and he cracked open an eye a second before his brother dropped a cold wet cloth across his forehead. “Open up,” Sam ordered, holding out the thermometer.
“Let me sleep,” Dean growled shutting his eyes.
“In a minute,” his brother said, slipping the electronic device into Dean’s mouth.
He briefly considered spitting it back in Sam’s face, but didn’t doubt his brother would just try again. Sam could be like a dog with a bone when there was something he wanted; he’d been like that since he was old enough to crawl. When the thermometer beeped a moment later Dean did spit it towards his brother watching through his lashes to see the expression on Sammy’s face.
“Real mature,” Sam commented looking at the read out, “101.9.”
“So, ’m I going to live Doc?” he asked tone bone dry.
Sam dropped a hand onto the center of Dean’s chest. “Try and get some sleep.”
Dean’s body betrayed him yet again when a sigh of relief escaped his dry lips at the cool touch. Sam held his hand there for a moment longer before getting up from the bed. Dean let his eyes fall closed waiting for the meds to kick in hoping that he’d wake up in the morning with this behind him.
The chair legs scrapped against the rough carpet as Sam settled back at his laptop.
Click…tick, tick, tick…
But this version was still missing something. I talked to faceted_mind who agreed that 'something' was missing from the story.
Which brought about my next attempt, where I made a few small changes to the beginning in the hopes that it would be clearer. faceted_mind thought the sound effects of Sam typing was more like a clock. I also worried that people might take the tick-tick-tick... as something like a scene break which they weren't supposed to be so I added a few in.
And here we go again [having fun yet?]
Tick-tick-tick...
“Sam,” Dean growled the name, voice rough from sleep.
Tick-tick-tick-tick
Dean rolled over on the lumpy bed with a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets down to his waist; the motel room felt stuffy, hot, making sleep impossible to find. Cracking open one eye Dean blearily saw his little brother seating at the tiny desk, laptop almost completely hidden behind his lanky frame.
Dean briefly considered trying again to get his brother's attention, but as he was feeling a little cooler now that the blankets were mostly gone he decided it was too much effort.
---SPN---
Tick-tick...click...click...
“Sammy...” the name barely escaped through chattering teeth.
Dean was curled into a tight ball on the center of his bed. The room that had been stifling only a little while before was freezing now. He fumbled for the blankets he'd discarded, every muscle trembling from both the temperature and effort. Forcing heavy lids to open, Dean saw that Sam was still seated at his laptop; shoulders hunched they way he did when he was interested in what he was reading.
-Don't you sleep?- he thought darkly but he couldn't seem to get his chattering teeth to cooperate enough to form the words.
---SPN---
Click...tick-tick-tick...
The room was stifling again when Dean woke; his skin feeling dry and stretched tight across his body.
Tick-tick-tick-tick...
He didn't feel like he'd managed more than an hour of sleep and Sam was still working on that bloody laptop.
“Stop it Sam!” he roared, his frustration actually managing to carry across the room.
“What?” Sam asked.
Dean forced himself into a sitting position, the blankets tumbling away from his hot skin. “Stop playing with the temperature,” he growled scrubbing a hand down his face. “It was amusing when we were kids,” he continued, dropping elbows onto knees.
Sam turned in his chair, the meager illumination from the laptop making his expression hard to read. “Dean what are you talking about?” Sam asked a note of concern in his voice.
“One minute you're cold the next minute you're hot?” he questioned with a shake of his head. “What's going on Sam?”
“Dean, I haven't touched the thermostat,” Sam said slowly, as he got up from his chair. “Are you feeling alright?” his brother asked crossing the room to Dean's bed.
“I'm tired,” he said pointedly, “I'd like to get some sleep.”
Sam's hands landed on the back of his neck and forehead simultaneously to keep him from pulling away. They felt suspiciously cold sending shivers down Dean’s body. “Dude, you've got a fever,” Sam told him bluntly.
Dean glared at his brother. “Do not,” he returned petulantly, unwilling to admit even to himself that the cool touch had felt good.
“Right Dean, ‘cause it’s much more likely I’m sitting here playing with the thermostat,” Sam said dryly. He walked across the room to his bag digging through it for a bottle of pills.
The older Winchester raised a hand to rub across his short hair not liking the tremble he felt and saw in the limb. His entire body ached, betraying him. Dean hated being sick but he seriously doubted there was anyone alive who actually enjoyed it.
“Here take these,” Sam instructed handing Dean a couple of pills and an open bottle of water. “Drink all of it,” he added heading for the bathroom.
“Yes Mom,” he replied sarcastically downing the pills with a mouthful of water. Dean drank about half the bottle before putting it aside; he just wanted to sleep.
Dean felt the mattress dip when Sam sat down beside him and he cracked open an eye a second before his brother dropped a cold wet cloth across his forehead. “Open up,” Sam ordered, holding out the thermometer.
“Let me sleep,” Dean growled shutting his eyes.
“In a minute,” his brother said, slipping the electronic device into Dean’s mouth.
He briefly considered spitting it back in Sam’s face, but didn’t doubt his brother would just try again. Sam could be like a dog with a bone when there was something he wanted; he’d been like that since he was old enough to crawl. When the thermometer beeped a moment later Dean did spit it towards his brother watching through his lashes to see the expression on Sammy’s face.
“Real mature,” Sam commented dryly while looking at the read out. “101.9.”
It was high; but not life threatening. No trip to the ER necessary, for which Dean was grateful. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand on his own and few things were more annoying or embarrassing than having to lean on his ‘little’ brother.
Dean was just beginning to drift when Sam’s cool hand came to rest on his sternum. “Mmmm,” the sound escaped him with a shiver.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice was quieter now as he tried to get Dean’s attention. “C’mon, you’re dehydrated you should drink some more.”
“Later…” the word sounded almost slurred to Dean’s ears.
He heard Sam release a breath and half expected an argument to follow. “Alright,” Sam conceded, “I’ll check you again in an hour.”
Dean just grunted in reply, no longer holding on enough to form words. A second later Sam got up from the bed and Dean immediately missed the cool hand resting on his chest; though he would never have admitted that out loud.
Vaguely he heard Sam move back across the room; the chair legs scrapping against the rough carpet as he sat back at his laptop. Dean let himself sink into the blackness, hoping this was just some bug that would be behind him by morning. The last sound Dean’s ears acknowledged was the ‘ticking’ of the laptop keys.
No surprise really but this version was still missing that 'Something'
I spent most of saturday mulling over my options. I've never been a big fan of trying to change something I've already written as it usually tends to feel like a big mess and even if its only in my brain I can't deal with that sort of change. I needed to find something that would easily slip into what I already had written that would give the story a little more depth.
After scrolling through season one's episode list I decided this story would best fit after The Benders which gave me some new material to work with and led me to the final result I'll be posting right after this
So there you have it. Usually I wouldn't dream of sharing these horrible attempts with anyone other than my editors but I'm bored and it feels like the thing to do ^_^
So here now for your amusement [if your bored this might prove interesting...or maybe not ^_~]
My own notes on changes will be in bold.
This is the very first draft I wrote and sent to Shuffles for approval
tick, tick, tick...
"Sam," Dean growled the name, voice rough from sleep.
tick, tick, tick, tick
Dean rolled over on the lumpy bed with a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets down to his waist; the motel room felt stuffy, hot, making sleep impossible to find. Cracking open one eye Dean blearily saw his little brother seating at the tiny desk laptop almost completely hidden behind his lanky frame.
He briefly considered trying again to get his brother's attention but as Dean was feeling a little cooler now that the blankets were mostly gone he decided it was too much effort.
tick, tick...click.....click....
"Sammy..." the name barely escaped through chattering teeth.
Dean was curled into a tight ball on the center of his bed. The room that had been stifling only a little while before was freezing now. He fumbled for the blankets he'd discarded every muscle trembling from both the cold temperature and effort. Forcing heavy lids to open Dean saw that Sam was still seated at his laptop; shoulders hunched they way he did when he was interested in what he was reading.
-Don't you sleep?- he thought darkly but he couldn't seem to get his chattering teeth to cooperate enough to form the words.
Click...tick, tick, tick...
The room was stifling again when Dean woke; his skin feeling dry and stretch tight across his body.
tick, tick, tick, tick...
He didn't feel like he'd managed more than an hour of sleep and Sam was still working on that bloody laptop.
"Stop it Sam!" he roared, his frustration actually managing to carry across the room.
"What?" Sam asked.
Dean forced himself into a sitting position, the blankets tumbling away from his hot skin. "Stop playing with the temperature," he growled scrubbing a hand down his face. "It was amusing when we were kids," he continued dropping elbows onto his knees.
Sam turned in his chair the meger illumination from the laptop making his expression hard to read. "Dean what are you talking about?" Sam asked, a note of concern in his voice.
"One minute you're cold the next minute you're hot?" he questioned with a shake of his head. "What's going on Sam?"
"Dean, I haven't touched the thermostat," Sam said slowly as he got up from his chair. "Are you feeling alright?" his brother asked crossing the room to Dean's bed.
"I'm tired," he said pointedly, "I'd like to get some sleep."
Sam's hands landed on the back of his neck and his forehead simultaneously to keep him from pulling away. "Dude, you've got a fever," Sam told him bluntly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Dean glared at his brother fighting to keep his eyes opened. "Do not," he returned petulantly.
"Let me take a look at your arm," Sam said with a frustrated sigh as he reached for the limb. "You told me you'd clean it."
"I did," Dean defended looking down at his bandaged arm. He'd all but forgotten about the gash he'd received in their last hunt.
The younger Winchester peeled aside the gauze relieving an angry looking cut on Dean's forearm. "Apparently, you didn't clean it well enough," Sam said with a sigh. "Wait here I'll get the first aid kit."
I'd like to state for the record that I felt this version needed work. At the same time I was trying to keep it short my version of a 'drabble'
It was agreed that more needed to be added to the ending of the story. I decided to move the injury that had caused the infection as a cut on Dean's arm would be too easy for Sam to get to and take a look at himself once they'd finished the hunt.
Which lead me into this version, which only changed after this paragraph:
Dean glared at his brother, fighting to keep his eyes opened. "Do not," he returned petulantly.
Sam shook his head at Dean's useless denial and pulled the blankets off his brother's legs. “Let me see your hip,” he instructed trying to push Dean back to lying down.
Dean attempted to knock the hands away with a hiss of pain. “Its fine,” he forced some strength into his voice; trying to counteract the weakness he felt in his body.
“You said you'd take care of it,” Sam's tone was accusatory.
“I did,” Dean glared, knowing he was going to loose the fight on this one.
“Obviously you missed something.” The younger hunter said bluntly, changing tactics as he got up from the bed walking into the bathroom.
The older Winchester looked down at his right hip; he’d all but forgotten about the injury his brain still fuzzy from his attempts at sleep. He’d refused to let Sam help him take care of it when they’d got back earlier that evening.
“Here.”
Dean jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice; totally unaware that he’d come back into the room. His brother was holding out a bottle of water and two pills. Dean took them without complaint, noticing now that the worst of the heat he was feeling seemed to be originating from his hip and not the room.
Sam sighed; an all too familiar sound. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he demanded rhetorically as he walked back into the bathroom.
“I didn’t ignore it,” Dean defended, slowly lying back on his bed.
“No, you just had to refuse help and now you’ve got an infection and I don’t think we have enough antibiotics to take care of it.” Sam fumed coming back out with their first aid kit and a damp cloth.
Dean could easily read the worry on his brother’s face before Sam dropped the cloth across his eyes. The cold water he’d soaked it with sent a shiver running down Dean’s entire body and he quickly lifted it from his eyes.
“Hey,” Sam reprimanded taking the cloth only to replace it on Dean’s forehead. “Leave it. We need to get your temperature down, unless you want to make a trip to the ER.”
“No ER,” Dean said with a slight shake of his head. It was bad enough having Sam tend the wound; the last thing Dean wanted was some stranger doing it.
The mattress dipped when Sam sat down and Dean watched through partially opened eyes as his brother took hold of the hem of his shorts. He was relieved for the moment to have the fever knowing the flush of embarrassment he felt wouldn’t show.
“Damn,” Sam breathed the word as he peeled away the last of the bloodied gauze. “What did you cut yourself on?” he asked cool hands probing the skin on either side of the gash.
Dean shrugged eyes closed tight against the pain. “Was too busy trying to keep my head to notice.”
however the problem I found with this path was I could figure out where I wanted the story to end. It felt like it was getting messy to me. I couldn't seem to get inside the story, kept feeling like I was just floating on top with no real idea what either of the boys were thinking.
So I decided to remove the injury altogether and see where that would take me. Again the beginning stay the same
“Right Dean, ‘cause it’s much more likely I’m sitting here playing with the thermostat.” Sam said dryly, he walked across the room to his bag digging through it for a bottle of pills.
The older Winchester raised a hand to rub across his short hair not liking the tremble he felt and saw in the limb. His entire body ached, betraying him. Dean hated being sick but he doubted there was anyone alive who actually enjoyed it.
“Here take these,” Sam instructed handing Dean a couple of pills and an open bottle of water. “Drink all of it,” he added heading for the bathroom.
“Yes Mom,” he replied sarcastically downing the pills with a mouthful of water. Dean drank about half the bottle before putting it aside; he just wanted to sleep.
Dean felt the mattress dip when Sam sat down beside him and he cracked open an eye a second before his brother dropped a cold wet cloth across his forehead. “Open up,” Sam ordered, holding out the thermometer.
“Let me sleep,” Dean growled shutting his eyes.
“In a minute,” his brother said, slipping the electronic device into Dean’s mouth.
He briefly considered spitting it back in Sam’s face, but didn’t doubt his brother would just try again. Sam could be like a dog with a bone when there was something he wanted; he’d been like that since he was old enough to crawl. When the thermometer beeped a moment later Dean did spit it towards his brother watching through his lashes to see the expression on Sammy’s face.
“Real mature,” Sam commented looking at the read out, “101.9.”
“So, ’m I going to live Doc?” he asked tone bone dry.
Sam dropped a hand onto the center of Dean’s chest. “Try and get some sleep.”
Dean’s body betrayed him yet again when a sigh of relief escaped his dry lips at the cool touch. Sam held his hand there for a moment longer before getting up from the bed. Dean let his eyes fall closed waiting for the meds to kick in hoping that he’d wake up in the morning with this behind him.
The chair legs scrapped against the rough carpet as Sam settled back at his laptop.
Click…tick, tick, tick…
But this version was still missing something. I talked to faceted_mind who agreed that 'something' was missing from the story.
Which brought about my next attempt, where I made a few small changes to the beginning in the hopes that it would be clearer. faceted_mind thought the sound effects of Sam typing was more like a clock. I also worried that people might take the tick-tick-tick... as something like a scene break which they weren't supposed to be so I added a few in.
And here we go again [having fun yet?]
Tick-tick-tick...
“Sam,” Dean growled the name, voice rough from sleep.
Tick-tick-tick-tick
Dean rolled over on the lumpy bed with a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets down to his waist; the motel room felt stuffy, hot, making sleep impossible to find. Cracking open one eye Dean blearily saw his little brother seating at the tiny desk, laptop almost completely hidden behind his lanky frame.
Dean briefly considered trying again to get his brother's attention, but as he was feeling a little cooler now that the blankets were mostly gone he decided it was too much effort.
---SPN---
Tick-tick...click...click...
“Sammy...” the name barely escaped through chattering teeth.
Dean was curled into a tight ball on the center of his bed. The room that had been stifling only a little while before was freezing now. He fumbled for the blankets he'd discarded, every muscle trembling from both the temperature and effort. Forcing heavy lids to open, Dean saw that Sam was still seated at his laptop; shoulders hunched they way he did when he was interested in what he was reading.
-Don't you sleep?- he thought darkly but he couldn't seem to get his chattering teeth to cooperate enough to form the words.
---SPN---
Click...tick-tick-tick...
The room was stifling again when Dean woke; his skin feeling dry and stretched tight across his body.
Tick-tick-tick-tick...
He didn't feel like he'd managed more than an hour of sleep and Sam was still working on that bloody laptop.
“Stop it Sam!” he roared, his frustration actually managing to carry across the room.
“What?” Sam asked.
Dean forced himself into a sitting position, the blankets tumbling away from his hot skin. “Stop playing with the temperature,” he growled scrubbing a hand down his face. “It was amusing when we were kids,” he continued, dropping elbows onto knees.
Sam turned in his chair, the meager illumination from the laptop making his expression hard to read. “Dean what are you talking about?” Sam asked a note of concern in his voice.
“One minute you're cold the next minute you're hot?” he questioned with a shake of his head. “What's going on Sam?”
“Dean, I haven't touched the thermostat,” Sam said slowly, as he got up from his chair. “Are you feeling alright?” his brother asked crossing the room to Dean's bed.
“I'm tired,” he said pointedly, “I'd like to get some sleep.”
Sam's hands landed on the back of his neck and forehead simultaneously to keep him from pulling away. They felt suspiciously cold sending shivers down Dean’s body. “Dude, you've got a fever,” Sam told him bluntly.
Dean glared at his brother. “Do not,” he returned petulantly, unwilling to admit even to himself that the cool touch had felt good.
“Right Dean, ‘cause it’s much more likely I’m sitting here playing with the thermostat,” Sam said dryly. He walked across the room to his bag digging through it for a bottle of pills.
The older Winchester raised a hand to rub across his short hair not liking the tremble he felt and saw in the limb. His entire body ached, betraying him. Dean hated being sick but he seriously doubted there was anyone alive who actually enjoyed it.
“Here take these,” Sam instructed handing Dean a couple of pills and an open bottle of water. “Drink all of it,” he added heading for the bathroom.
“Yes Mom,” he replied sarcastically downing the pills with a mouthful of water. Dean drank about half the bottle before putting it aside; he just wanted to sleep.
Dean felt the mattress dip when Sam sat down beside him and he cracked open an eye a second before his brother dropped a cold wet cloth across his forehead. “Open up,” Sam ordered, holding out the thermometer.
“Let me sleep,” Dean growled shutting his eyes.
“In a minute,” his brother said, slipping the electronic device into Dean’s mouth.
He briefly considered spitting it back in Sam’s face, but didn’t doubt his brother would just try again. Sam could be like a dog with a bone when there was something he wanted; he’d been like that since he was old enough to crawl. When the thermometer beeped a moment later Dean did spit it towards his brother watching through his lashes to see the expression on Sammy’s face.
“Real mature,” Sam commented dryly while looking at the read out. “101.9.”
It was high; but not life threatening. No trip to the ER necessary, for which Dean was grateful. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand on his own and few things were more annoying or embarrassing than having to lean on his ‘little’ brother.
Dean was just beginning to drift when Sam’s cool hand came to rest on his sternum. “Mmmm,” the sound escaped him with a shiver.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice was quieter now as he tried to get Dean’s attention. “C’mon, you’re dehydrated you should drink some more.”
“Later…” the word sounded almost slurred to Dean’s ears.
He heard Sam release a breath and half expected an argument to follow. “Alright,” Sam conceded, “I’ll check you again in an hour.”
Dean just grunted in reply, no longer holding on enough to form words. A second later Sam got up from the bed and Dean immediately missed the cool hand resting on his chest; though he would never have admitted that out loud.
Vaguely he heard Sam move back across the room; the chair legs scrapping against the rough carpet as he sat back at his laptop. Dean let himself sink into the blackness, hoping this was just some bug that would be behind him by morning. The last sound Dean’s ears acknowledged was the ‘ticking’ of the laptop keys.
No surprise really but this version was still missing that 'Something'
I spent most of saturday mulling over my options. I've never been a big fan of trying to change something I've already written as it usually tends to feel like a big mess and even if its only in my brain I can't deal with that sort of change. I needed to find something that would easily slip into what I already had written that would give the story a little more depth.
After scrolling through season one's episode list I decided this story would best fit after The Benders which gave me some new material to work with and led me to the final result I'll be posting right after this
So there you have it. Usually I wouldn't dream of sharing these horrible attempts with anyone other than my editors but I'm bored and it feels like the thing to do ^_^