Rating: T for language
Story Thus Far: Dean pisses off a lot of people. That's all you need to know :P
Please Review! :D Pretty pretty please!
Two Weeks Ago
It was the hottest club in town. Or at least that's what the pamphlet in their motel room said. Not that Dean took the advice of a pamphlet in motel room, he usually asked around. Asked the locals, i.e. the hot waitress at the diner who told Dean that that was where she was going to be that evening. Totally the raddest club in town! She had said.
'Raddest'? Dean had shuddered at the word but she was hot enough that he could overlook her vocabulary.
'Was that before or after that dude went all Dracula on his friend?'
Dean found it strange when she failed to show the appropriate reaction of horror at the mention of the gruesome attack that had happened just days before and instead laughed, as if he had made a joke, "My god, it was like something out of Twilight!" Her eyes were shining with excitement. Probably the most drama Prescott, Wisconsin had ever seen.
And, she told him, the club had even created a special drink. In honor of the victim, of course. They had named the drink, "Bloody Barry". Apparently the poor dude's name had been Barrett. Yes, Dean was definitely looking forward to checking this place out.
The music in the club was deafening. Dean couldn't hear himself think. Not that it mattered, you didn't come to places like this to think. When you went to a club and hooked up with a chick you'd never met before it wasn't usually a well thought out, calculated decision you made after hours of contemplation. Well, maybe that's what Sammy does Dean snorted.
Okay, so the hot waitress wasn't there and the club was lame. But it compensated for it in loud music and alcohol. Once you got drunk enough you didn't care anymore. Not that he really had the option of getting drunk right now. After all, he was technically on a case. He needed to ask around, find out more information about this vampire attack. The answers he got were consistent. 'A stranger from out of town', 'it was a brawl, dude went for the other guy's neck', 'total freak, watched too much Twilight'. However nobody seemed to know his name, where he was from or where he was staying. Another dead end.
"Hey," a voice said behind him, "I hear you were asking around about that attack last week." The voice belonged to Mandy. She was blond, wide set blue eyes and dimples. Dean had tried to buy her a drink earlier that evening but she had declined. She was there with her boyfriend.
"Are you a cop?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Well, you're asking the wrong people." she smiled and moved in closer to Dean, "I know a lot about what happened to Barrett."
He raised an eyebrow, smiled, "Well, why don't you tell me about it while we dance?"
They had made their way over to the dance floor when boyfriend appeared,
He grabbed Dean by the shoulder, jerked him around to face him, his eyes flashing, "Don't go screwing with my girlfriend!"
He straightened to his full height, towering over Dean. Intimidation. Dean expanded to his full height as well, looked the man in the eyes, "Back off asshole." Turned to walk away.
The man grabbed him by the arm, but Dean pushed him off. "Man, don't even go there. I don't want to fight with you. But trust me, you screw with me and I'll shove your nose so far up your face you'll be smelling your brain." This time the man let him go.
Honestly, Dean wanted to avoid a fight if at all possible. It wasn't that Dean doubted his ability to take the man in a fair fight, or even an unfair fight, but he'd noticed a tattoo on the man's forearm. It was a five-pointed compound symbol with a center triangle pointing down. It made Dean uneasy. Dean couldn't remember what exactly it meant but it was definitely occultic. Dean had a rule, don't mess with dudes that are bigger than you and have satanic symbols tattooed on their forearm. Well, ok, he had just thought that up right then but he felt it was a pretty good rule of thumb to follow.
He went over to the bar, ordered himself some whiskey. Sat back and watched as a fight between Mandy and her jackass boyfriend heated up. The man was drunk and looking for a fight, he hadn't gotten one out of Dean. Dean could seem them screaming at each other, tattoo guy shoved his girlfriend and she shoved him back. Dean looked away, pretending he hadn't been watching when tattoo guy gestured towards him.
The fight continued on for several more minutes until tattoo guy gave the girl one last shove and then stormed out of the club.
Dean sighed. Turned back to his whiskey.
Again, Dean heard a voice behind him, "Hi there."
He turned around when he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Mandy again.
She smiled coyly, she grabbed a bar stool next to Dean, "The boyfriend left for now."
He laughed. "Is your boyfriend always such a dick?"
She laughed again, "Yeah, pretty much. Sorry about that."
There was a comfortable silence for several moments, then she said, "You know what, I'm just going to be honest. You're really hot. But I bet you hear that all the time!"
Dean smirked, "Yeah, all the time." He threw back another shot of whiskey.
"Hey, wanna go back to my apartment with me?" That was sudden. Revenge sex.
Hell yes. He didn't mind being used.
They were back at her apartment. Had been there for maybe an hour. Dean didn't hear it when the front door opened, didn't hear the heavy footsteps through the apartment, coming towards the bedroom. But he heard when the bedroom door shoved open.
Oh crap. Tattoo guy and he was livid.
%%%
Present Time…
Sam returned to the hotel room several hours later to find Dean hunched over, sitting on the edge of the bed, stripped down to his boxers and wrapped up in the quilt off his bed. Mindlessly flipping channels on the television set.
"Dean, what are you doing?"
He looked up from the TV, eyes glassy, "Nothin.'" His voice was tired.
"No, I mean, why are you sitting there naked, wrapped up in a blanket?"
"I was cold."
"Then why don't you put on some clothes?"
"I was getting overheated. Are we done with this inquisition?" Annoyed. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes.
"No, we're not. I left you here to sleep off your fever- did you sleep at all?"
Dean shrugged, "I dunno. I tried."
"Aww, come on Dean! You gotta get better- go back to bed!"
Dean rolled his eyes, but was too tired to protest and right now he could barely keep his head up.
Dean crawled back into bed and lay there for what felt like hours. He didn't know if he finally managed to doze off or not. It had been so long since he'd slept that he barely remembered what it felt like. In fact he doubted if he'd recognize it if it came.
If he eventually fell asleep, he couldn't tell. He certainly didn't feel like he had when the sun finally rose, indicating that it was morning. At least the fever had passed. Sam wouldn't be able to use that to keep him locked up in their hotel room any more.
%%%
"Are you sure you're feeling well enough? You were pretty sick yesterday. If you want to stay here and watch TV, that's fine with me. I can finish this case by myself, you know."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Damn right, I'm gonna let you finish this case by yourself! Stop being a mother hen. I'm feeling better." He stood up, grabbed his jacket and checked his gun. Shoving it into the back of his jeans.
But Sam hadn't taken Dean's word for it. Had insisted on taking Dean's temperature. 98.6. Dean had smiled smugly at him, "Can't keep a good man down for long there Sammy boy! Whadya say Doctor, can I be released now?"
They spent the morning at the library, Sam was looking into local history. Then they had followed a few leads from the previous day. They had found nothing.
Now they were sitting in a diner waiting for their food to come.
The waitress had talked a mile a minute as she'd poured their coffee, a flirty smile on her face. Never taking her eyes off Dean. Dean barely noticed, or at least he gave no indication that he did.
She was pretty in a cheap sort of way, Totally Dean's type Sam rolled his eyes. But Dean was unusually quiet that day and just sat there eating his fries. Well, one of his fries. Maybe two. Mostly he just sat there and watched his food grow cold.
He stared at his cheeseburger. It stared back. He took a bite of it. Stared at it some more.
Sam took notice, "Dude, why aren't you hungry?"
Dean looked up startled, "Say what? Oh… hungry?" he shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I've eaten too many cheeseburgers. Ya know, that's pretty much all I eat. Guess I'm tired of them"
Sam looked surprised, took out his flask of holy water and splashed it in Dean's face. Dean sputtered, "Dude! What was that for?"
"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam grinned but then his face grew serious, "Seriously Dean. First off, you didn't notice that the hot waitress has been flirting with you and practically begging to give you her number and then after 30 years you just now decide you're tired of cheeseburgers?"
"Aw, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not hungry."
"You said you were better… are you still sick?"
"What? No! Of course not. Cut it out Sammy. I'm sick of your hovering. I'm perfectly fine. Trust me, if I were sick I'd let you know."
"Really Dean? Cuz you never tell me any of that kind of stuff. You wouldn't tell me if you had a hole blown in your head and you were bleeding to death!"
Dean chuckled, "You're probably right. I wouldn't tell you. But trust me, I'm feeling awesome. Never felt better."
Sam looked doubtful.
That was a bunch of crap. Dean was feeling far from awesome. He stared down at the cheeseburger staring back at him. He was feeling nauseated just looking at it. And the onions. Whose idea was it to put onions on it? Way too overpowering.
Had to get to the bathroom now. "I'll be back Sam. I gotta… uh… I'll be right back…"
He turned and walked towards the bathrooms. Don't run He thought. Couldn't let Sam onto how sick he was feeling.
Wasn't sure he'd make it in time. Wow, that would be classy Throwing up all over himself in the middle of the restaurant. Couldn't imagine that would go over too well.
Walk normal. Would it be too suspicious to look behind him to see if Sam was watching? I'd really like to run these last few feet. He was feeling a bit dizzy too. If Sam was watching there was no way he didn't see Dean stumble a little. Or how Dean wasn't really walking in a straight line. Damn, I must look like I'm drunk!
He made it to the bathroom just in time before he lost his lunch. And then his breakfast as well. "Uughh," he groaned, "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at food again."
And then he puked some more.
It was times like these that he wished he carried around a toothbrush and some minty-fresh toothpaste. He rinsed out his mouth and splashed some cold water on his face. Hoped Sam wouldn't notice his breath. Just gotta make sure Sammy doesn't try to kiss me! He smirked to himself. And then flipped off the man next to him at the sink who was giving him strange looks.
He could really go for a 7-Up right now. But there was no way he'd be able to order one without Sam noticing. Damn, hiding illness was nearly impossible around Sam. Growing up whenever they were sick or had an upset stomach for whatever reason, their dad would always toss a 7-Up at them. The carbonation helped settle their stomachs. At one point it had been Dean's favorite soda but this practice had ruined it for him. Not that he didn't like it anymore, it just tasted like sick.
%%%
"Catch." Sam said, tossing a 7-Up at Dean as he got back in the car after a quick stop at a gas station.
"What's this for?" Dean asked. Surprised.
"It's to help settle your stomach."
Dean rolled his eyes, "What makes you think my stomach needs settling?"
"Oh I don't know, maybe it was the fact that you didn't eat your lunch, or the expression on your face right before you ran into the bathroom at the diner, or maybe the fact that your face is really green."
He's so smug Dean scowled.
"Yeah well…" he was about to open the can of soda but looked suspiciously up at Sam, "Wait, did you shake this up? Cuz I swear I will kick your ass if I open this up and it explodes all over my car!"
"Dude! Why would you think I would do such a thing?"
"I don't know… Maybe to get back at me for all the times I did it to you?"
Sam laughed, "Thanks for reminding me. I'm still plotting my revenge, but believe me, it's not going to be anything as bush-league as shaking your can of soda!"
Dean hated being sick. He rarely got sick. But what freaked him out the most was the nagging fear in the back of his mind that maybe whatever it was wasn't normal. He wanted to just suck it up and continue on with the case. Pretend that everything was fine until everything was fine.
But he had to tell Sam his suspicions. As much as he wanted to keep it from Sam, he needed Sam's help. And so he brought it up.
"Uh Sam. So have you noticed anything weird about my being sick?"
"Weird? Weird how?"
"As in cursed weird. As in I pissed off a witch weird."
Sam looked startled, "You think you pissed off a witch?"
"Well, actually, yeah. I'm pretty sure I did. And I mean, hell, I never get sick."
"So. You think that you're not really sick, you've been cursed?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Well, you gotta admit, it sounds crazy Dean."
"Mhm. I know. I don't want to think it either but," he shrugged, "I've suspected it for quite awhile and it's only going to get worse."