Day 6

Title: Day 6
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None? Sam/Dean?
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: After Sam crashes the car, Dean's mad at him.
Notes: Written during my 13 Ficlets in 13 Days in 2016 project for sexualoddity

They say that most car accidents happen within five miles from home. When your home is actually a car, it pretty much blows that statistic out of the water. Sam's left hand gripped the passenger seat and his right pressed flat against the glove compartment to steady himself as best he could. The side mirror dangled uselessly. The side door wouldn't fully close. And the car rocked unevenly, as though wobbling on wheels that were bent at opposing angles. Dean had a listed about a dozen other things that were wrong, every single one of which was Sam's fault.

It didn't matter that the car could be fixed. It didn't matter that they were both all right. It didn't matter that Sam had been trying to avoid the car behind them that kept trying to rear end them. All that mattered was the one time the Winchester brothers actually found themselves smack in the center of a car chase, Sam happened to have been behind the wheel.

Dean had been anxious and tense until Sam managed to shake the car by taking it down alleyways and driving it over the sidewalk, hitting trashcans and light posts and anything else in the way in the process.. And then Dean had just been thoroughly pissed off. No amount of apologizing on Sam's part had done any good. The only that had stopped him from yelling was Sam's offer to stay somewhere else tonight.

Space was what Dean needed right now. Space and time to work on his baby. He could get parts in town tomorrow and, if anything was seriously damaged, he could do a quick fix to keep the car running long enough for them to get to Bobby's salvage yard for a more extensive overhaul.

They spotted the motel about a block away, easy to do because of its neon glow. The Secret Keeper motel advertised available rooms, adult television channels, and econo prices, which basically meant they charged by the hour. But they had a vacancy, which none of the other motels in the area did, so this was where Sam had to stay. Dean would be at the motel they had gotten a room at two days back when they'd rolled into town on this case. Sam had tried to get a second room there, but everything was booked except for the Secret Keeper.

“I'll come by to get you at eight,” Dean said. “Be ready. I won't want to wait for you.”

Sam nodded. He didn't want to make Dean any angrier. “See you at eight.” Carefully, Sam opened the broken door and closed it after him again. He bent to wave to Dean, but Dean's foot hit the gas and the broken Impala lumbered away at once, as though scared Sam was going to damage it again somehow, leaving Sam feeling silly with one hand on his duffle bag and the other raised pointlessly in the air.

Sam headed into the motel's main office, a dark, seedy den that Sam wanted to leave the second he arrived. A balding, sweaty man sat behind a computer at a desk, and from the sound of it, Sam didn't want to know which porn website he was looking at. “I need a room for the night,” Sam said. The counter looked sticky, so he did his best to stay clear of it.

The man quoted an insane price, Sam talked him down to half of that, and accepted an old fashioned room key. He made his way down the indoor hallway, trying not to wince each time his shoe hit a squishy portion of carpet. But when he got Room 115 open, he did wince. A mirror on the ceiling, threadbare sheets, and a layer of dust or grime or dirt or all of the above on every surface in sight.

What it needed was a thorough cleaning... or perhaps new furniture altogether. Sam didn't want to touch anything here either, but he didn't have a car or any other way of getting to a store to buy cleaning products, so he'd have to stand this. It would only be for a few days, until they were done with the case or until Dean wasn't so angry with him, whichever came first.


At a quarter until eight in the morning, Sam stood outside the main office, right where Dean had picked him up. It was drizzly and windy, overcast and miserable out, but Sam still preferred it to the alternative of spending even one more second in Room 115. Besides, he didn't want to arrive late and make Dean even angrier.

Sam Winchester was allergic to a lot of things. Dean had cats on his list, sure, but Sam had just about everything else—mold, ragweed, dust mites, some tree pollen. Apparently, after one night, he was confident he could add the entirety of Room 115 to his list. When Dean had called him in the morning to make sure he was ready to be picked up, Sam had been in the middle of a sneezing fit, much like the one's he'd had all night long. Running on almost no sleep and powering through an almost constant urge to sneeze, he had at least managed to tell Dean he'd see him at eight. But the moment he had hung up, he had buried his nose in a wad of toilet paper and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed so more.

His nose was tender and sore. His throat so itchy that scratching it with his tongue only made it worse. But the worst of it was the sneezing. He just couldn't seem to stop. Even now that he was outside the room, it seemed to have followed him. “heyyyTISHphh!” he sneezed into his sleeve, instinctively, lacking anything better, but he knew that wasn't a good solution. His sleeve was going to get wet pretty quickly, and though he had another sleeve, there were only the two. “hehhh hehhh-YIHTchhhhh!” He sneezed freely. This was no better, as it left him with a wet nose that needed wiping, exposed to the cold temperature and the irritating wind.

Sam checked his watch. Ten minutes to eight. He waited as long as he could, sniffling, shivering, and then checked his watch again. Nine minutes to eight. Sam groaned. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He blew into his cupped hands. He dragged his poor nose against his sleeve, trying to rub away the tickle there. And he sneezed again. “heyyyyy-IHHHchhh!” He checked again. Still nine minutes to eight.

At fourteen minutes after eight, Sam spotted the Impala lurching around a corner and coming toward him. Finally, Dean was here! Not wanting to leave his bag in the room, where things could be stolen from it, Sam had brought it with him. He threw the duffle bag into the back seat and then practically threw himself into the passenger seat he was so eager to get out of the cold rain. He cleared his throat and mumbled a good morning, just before pitching forward with a sudden “heyy YIHTch!” The quick sneeze sprayed the dashboard, and Sam groaned inwardly this time. First he wrecks Dean's car, then he sneezes on it? No wonder Dean hated him so much right now; Sam couldn't seem to do anything right these days.

As they pulled away from the motel, Dean smirked as he took a good look at his brother. “Did you... um...” Dean was trying not to laugh. “Did you have a good night?”

“Just woderful snrriff!” Sam replied, rubbing his itchy nose into the crook of his arm. If it had only been his allergies he'd had to worry about last night, maybe he could have handled it. His allergy medicine had helped his reaction a little, after all. But he hadn't been able to get comfortable on a bed where who knew what had happened. And the moans and cries and thumps of headboards against walls on both sides from Room 113 and Room 117 had woken him from sleep every time he'd even been close to nodding off.

“Good, because we've got to get to the local library as soon as it opens in order to get information about this Teech guy. I have a feeling that car accident he died in was no accident at all.”

Sam remembered the way that ghost had tried so hard to run them off the road. The ghost definitely had unfinished business.

“Let's get some breakfast on the way. This place looks good.” Dean pulled up to a fast food drive-up.

Greasy breakfast food was the last thing Sam wanted to put in his belly. He wanted something healthy, preferably if it came with an immuno-boosting level of Vitamin C. This was clearly another way Dean was working out his anger toward Sam. Through Dean, Sam ordered a breakfast sandwich he only nibbled at and an orange juice that came in a plastic kiddie cup, which Dean had to have done on purpose. Sam was oddly glad for it when he sneezed and none of the orange juice spilled.

They reached the library just as it opened, and they got to work. Or, rather, Dean got to work. Sam had trouble concentrating. He was tired, and the quiet of the library wasn't helping. He was cold, and sitting in an air conditioned reading room while dripping wet wasn't helping. Most of all, though, he was sneezy. The itch just wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how many times he sneezed. “h'Ytchh! Ihchhh! Hih ih IHTchh!” He snuffled weakly into a wad of toilet paper he'd liberated from the library bathroom.

Dean glanced his way a few times but didn't say anything. He did, however, shoot a “you'd better not shush my brother” look at any of the librarians and library patrons who seemed to have a problem with Sam's sneezing. He also didn't say anything when Sam crossed his arms on a table, set his head upon them, and fell asleep.

His own sneezing woke him up after an hour and a half. “Hihtch! Ehtchhh! Ihhtchh! Hihshh! Heh hih IHTchhh! Ihhshh!” Desperate to stop, Sam pinched his nose. He sneezed into his hand one last time “ihh HIHShh!” The pressure between his eyes was intense, the itch still in his nose even more-so.

“Hey,” Dean said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading through. “Go out to the car and take some more of your allergy medicine.”      

Sam checked his watch. How could Dean have known it was time for another dose?

“Seriously, Sam. Your sneezing is driving me crazy here. Go hang out in what's left of the car. I'll finish up here.” Ah. So Dean just wanted to get rid of him again. That made more sense. But it also meant he could sit in the car and sneeze without people shooting him dirty looks.

So he headed to the Impala, took more allergy medication, and curled up on the backseat, head on his duffle bag. “hah hah IHShhh! Chddshhh!” Oh God, his nose wouldn't quit today. What the hell had been in that motel room? Sam closed his eyes, unable to fall asleep but hoping the rest would help him anyway. “IHPTshhh!


Sam sat on top of the closed lid of the bathroom toilet, snuffling into toilet paper. His nose was so sensitive. Every touch made it tickle or hurt or both. “ehTSHHHH! HehTSHHH!” The rough toilet paper didn't help. Last night he'd searched his bag a hundred times for a small tissue pack, but he'd come up empty. Desperate, he checked his duffle bag again; Sam decided he didn't care; he'd take a soft, cotton undershirt to sneeze into at this point. But he saw something out of the corner of his eye and grabbed for it. Stuffed in the corner pocket of his duffle bag was a pack of Kleenex and one of Dean's clean bandannas. Sam checked, making sure he hadn't taken Dean's bag by mistake. But, no, this was Sam's, only with a few bonus items Dean must have stuck in there when Sam wasn't looking. Why would he do that?

iihhhhh!” Quickly, Sam couched his nose in the soft, cool cloth. “hihh-Tishphh! HihTchphhhh!” It would have felt wonderful if his nose weren't still so sensitive and ticklish. “hehh IPTshphhhh! Hihtchphhhhh! HehhKtshphhhh!  Hih ihhhTshphhh!

Sam checked his watch. Dean was going to pick him up again at eight. And the time was only Three twenty-two in the morning. He wasn't sure he would be able to make it. Not in this dump. Not with this many allergens that bothered his nose.

hehh IHPTschhhhhh!” But at least he had something to blow his nose into now. He pulled a tissue out of his bag and blew.


At five minutes after eight, Dean and the partially repaired Impala pulled up to the Secret Keeper motel. The wheels splashed water from the gutter onto Sam's shoes and his jeans below the knees. He shivered violently as he climbed into the car, hugging his duffle to his chest. He slouched, hunkering down, shaking with shivers. He was wearing extra layers and everything, but he hadn't been able to get warm this morning. “Bordig,” Sam snuffled.

“What the Hell, Sam?”

“I wasd't late.” Sam glanced at his watch, just to make sure this wasn't the reason Dean was angry with him already today.

“Yeah, I know. I hit some red lights on the way over.” Dean turned right at a stop sign, onto a parkway. “But why do you sound like you swallowed a bag of cotton balls?”

“I... hihChihhh! I thig subthig's ihhhKTShhhh! subthig's wrodg with be.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But I'm talking about how stuffed up you are.”

Sam wasn't in the mood for humor. Two nights without sleep, three days of Dean being pissed off at him, and two days and nights of sneezing fit after sneezing fit all came to a head. “Look, you dow I'b... ihhh hehhh hehCHIHH! Sniff! I'b so sorry about the car. Add I dow you're adgry with be. But I cad't sbed adother dight id that crabby botel. I... I... ihhhh hihhh hihhhKTSHH! Sniff! I ab covered id dust add I cad't sleeb add cad't stob sdeezig. Add hah hehhKTshhh! HEHSchhhh! I bight sniff hab a sniff sidus idfectiod.”

“Great,” Dean said, sarcastically. “So first you put my baby at risk, and then you put the case at risk?”


“Well, you're not going to be any help digging up Teech's grave tonight with me or watching my back when you're back in my motel room trying to get well again.”

Sam sat up straight in the passenger seat, realizing that they were just a couple blocks from the other motel. “What? How did you...”

“You look and sound beyond pathetic, Sammy. Did you think I hadn't noticed? Your nose is bright red.” He pulled into a parking place. “What the hell else am I going to do with you except dose you up with something strong and tuck your ass in bed?”

Sam smiled weakly. “Thadks.”

Dean laid an arm across the back of the front seat. “I'm your big brother. I'm always gonna take care of you, even when I'm mad at you.”

Sam nodded. “I really ab sorry about the car.”

“Yeah, I know. And eventually I'll forgive you. But until then, you keep apologizing, 'cause I like the sound of that. It's never gonna get old.”

ihh ihhh YIHTChhhhh!” Sam sneezed suddenly, covering mostly with his hand.

“Just try not to sneeze all over the place, would ya? I've got a big box of tissues in there for you already. Dean opened up the room for Sam and Sam headed straight of the bed. “Uh-uh! You're covered in dust and dirt. Get out of those clothes before you get under the covers. I'll heat you up some water for that girly tea of yours in the coffee maker. Should be soothing for your sinuses if you can manage to get it down without sneezing and spilling it. I can handle a tired and sneezy Sammy, but a tired, sneezy, burned Sammy would piss me off.”

“I'll try dot to sbill,” Sam promised, crawling naked into bed between soft, cool, clean sheets.