Sam is sick, feverish and hanging somewhere between life and death. For Dean is 'just a flu'. He can't see that Sam is fighting off some kind of demonic infection. But when he hears Sam calling Lucifer to help him (when Lucifer does, in a sweet and creepy way) Dean panics (and is ridden with guilt?).
FILLED: "And If I Die Before I Wake" (Gen,R) Part 1
“You’re still sick?” Dean asked, eyeing Sam warily. He’d barely left his motel bed two days. His skin looked grey, and he had a constant sheen of sweat. He’d had next to nothing to eat or drink, and he drifted in and out of sleep regardless of the hour.
Sam didn’t answer, but pulled his blanket up higher around his shoulders and turned on his side, facing his back towards Dean.
They hadn’t spoken much in the weeks since the spectre hunt in Kearney. Dean wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that they couldn’t take back what they’d said. Truth was, he did remember most of what he’d said when the spectre had been in him. It wasn’t all that far off from how he really felt. Sam not looking for him, was so wrong somehow, so unlike what they’d always done. He felt abandoned. And even though Sam was still right by his side, he’d never been further away in spirit
( ... )
For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to go back to giving him the cold shoulder, but then he noticed a tear running down Sam’s cheek. He shuffled his feet oddly, unwilling to leave his spot.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, but he kept his eyes shut.
He could have asked, For what? and maybe he should have, but what Dean actually ended up saying was, “So am I.”
Sam’s eyes opened, glassy and bloodshot and he looked up at the ceiling. “He always does this.”
“He…who?” Dean’s heart started thudding unhappily in his chest again.
“Lucifer.”
“Is that who you were talking to before?”
Sam turned his head away and cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “He says I deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Sam, what did he do to you? That light - was that- was that him“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that
( ... )
Dean jogged back across the street, suddenly uneasy at having left Sam alone so soon after - whatever had happened. He threw open the door and found Sam changing into a clean shirt. His skin looked a little more normal and his smile, even though it was weak, was genuine.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah well, the first machine didn’t have anything good.” Dean pulled the bundle he was holding out from under his arm and threw it to Sam.
Sam fumbled with the oddly shape package but caught it, looking up at Dean, confused.
“And maybe I had to get something else, too.” Dean shrugged his jacket off and cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”
Sam stared at the bundle and then back up at Dean. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yup.”
“But I- I didn’t get you-”
“Yeah, yeah. You can get me something when you can walk by yourself again.” He handed the can of ginger ale to Sam. “Now shut up and open it.”
“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that.” That broke me. OMG poor Sammy. And if he WASN'T hallucinating? I would love to see you turn this into a longer story. This could be awesome.
fighting off some kind of demonic infection. But when he hears Sam calling Lucifer to help him (when Lucifer does, in
a sweet and creepy way) Dean panics (and is ridden with guilt?).
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“You’re still sick?” Dean asked, eyeing Sam warily. He’d barely left his motel bed two days. His skin looked grey, and he had a constant sheen of sweat. He’d had next to nothing to eat or drink, and he drifted in and out of sleep regardless of the hour.
Sam didn’t answer, but pulled his blanket up higher around his shoulders and turned on his side, facing his back towards Dean.
They hadn’t spoken much in the weeks since the spectre hunt in Kearney. Dean wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that they couldn’t take back what they’d said. Truth was, he did remember most of what he’d said when the spectre had been in him. It wasn’t all that far off from how he really felt. Sam not looking for him, was so wrong somehow, so unlike what they’d always done. He felt abandoned. And even though Sam was still right by his side, he’d never been further away in spirit ( ... )
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"...angels watch me through the night, and keep me safe…" Sam muttered, the tremors running through his whole body making his voice shake ( ... )
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For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to go back to giving him the cold shoulder, but then he noticed a tear running down Sam’s cheek. He shuffled his feet oddly, unwilling to leave his spot.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, but he kept his eyes shut.
He could have asked, For what? and maybe he should have, but what Dean actually ended up saying was, “So am I.”
Sam’s eyes opened, glassy and bloodshot and he looked up at the ceiling. “He always does this.”
“He…who?” Dean’s heart started thudding unhappily in his chest again.
“Lucifer.”
“Is that who you were talking to before?”
Sam turned his head away and cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “He says I deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Sam, what did he do to you? That light - was that- was that him“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that ( ... )
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*******
Dean jogged back across the street, suddenly uneasy at having left Sam alone so soon after - whatever had happened. He threw open the door and found Sam changing into a clean shirt. His skin looked a little more normal and his smile, even though it was weak, was genuine.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah well, the first machine didn’t have anything good.” Dean pulled the bundle he was holding out from under his arm and threw it to Sam.
Sam fumbled with the oddly shape package but caught it, looking up at Dean, confused.
“And maybe I had to get something else, too.” Dean shrugged his jacket off and cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”
Sam stared at the bundle and then back up at Dean. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yup.”
“But I- I didn’t get you-”
“Yeah, yeah. You can get me something when you can walk by yourself again.” He handed the can of ginger ale to Sam. “Now shut up and open it.”
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The part where Dean asks if Sam is hallucinating at all was just perfect. Thanks
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That broke me. OMG poor Sammy.
And if he WASN'T hallucinating? I would love to see you turn this into a longer story. This could be awesome.
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