The Great Plague of 1993-SN-Weechester-PG
The Great Plague of 1993
or
How Sammy Winchester Saved the Day!
“Dean?” Sam asked not daring to approach the bed any closer than he was. His held his hand over his mouth in case any of Dean's super germs could jump from across the room towards him and infect him with whatever crud his brother had.
“Wha?” Dean half groaned from the under the blankets, he sounded like he had already died.
Sammy sure hoped he didn't have to cut zombie Dean's head off if he tried to eat his brains.
“You ok?” he asked through his hands, he hadn't even noticed they had cupped tighter around his face when Dean responded.
“Mmm fine.” he said, his voice a half croak “You hungry? I can heat something up.” the covers started to move.
“NO!” Sam called out gesturing at the blankets and then covering his mouth again. In a more subdued voice he said “I can do it. You want some soup?”
There was a pause from under the covers “We have soup?”
Sam looked back at the small motel pantry...he wasn't even sure they had food at this point. Looking back to the bundle he said “No. But I can go buy some.”
“No” Dean said, the covers moving again “I'll go...” covers moved back and Dean laid there motionless. Sam had never seen his brother look so bad before in his entire life. His face was pale and blotchy and his eyes were not open. There was a weird wheeze coming from him as he drew breath and Sam was sure all the germs that were hiding under the covers had just been released and were heading towards him.
Backing away he grabbed the few bills on the table John had left for supplies and headed for the door backwards “No stay put!” he called out “Cover yourself up and I will be right back.”
Still looking like a corpse Dean recanted “Have to take care of you...” but he still didn't move.
“I'm ten Dean.” Sam said as if that explained everything “I can take care of myself to go to the store!” he tried not to get mad, after all his brother looked close to death but he hated it when Dean and dad went off on poor wittle Sammy needs to be protected. Sure he wasn't all buff and mean like Dean...but he wasn't made out of glass “I'll be right back!” he said slamming the motel door.
He paused as the cold wind cut into him like daggers, his teeth almost instantly chattering as he huddled against the door for a second. This was what Dean called balls cold. Sam didn't quite understand what that meant but he had a feeling it was dirty, as was everything with Dean these days. Since hitting fourteen he had gone from annoying big brother to annoying pervert big brother. Every girl they passed his tongue practically fell out of his mouth and he had this smirk thing that drove Sam nuts. He was pretty sure Dean was half dog the way he panted after anything in skirt and his sly little “Hey girl...what's up?” waggling his eyebrows.
Girls. Yuck.
Wrapping his arms around him in his jacket Sam began to stomp down the sidewalk, cursing whatever had dragged his dad up here making them suffer in the freezing cold. That was probably how Dean got sick.
That or a girl.
The sidewalks were slick from the piling snow as the snow plowers moved up and down the street pushing the white goop to the side, making every third step Sam take so treacherous he almost fell. He didn't have the same type of mouth Dean had, but by the fourth time of almost eating pavement he let out a muffled “Fuck” and then looked around to see if anyone heard him.
He saw the small corner store and took small, deliberate steps towards it now that his goal was in sight. The wind howled against him as he leaned into it, his teeth ground together as he inched his way to the door...one foot after another...one small step...
The door flew open suddenly, surprising the youngest Winchester and sending him to a hard, cold seat on the sidewalk. The man who barreled out didn't even look down at Sam as he ran to his car. Sam saw the door slam shut by the wind as he sat there, feeling the seat of his pants grow wet from the snow.
Sam tried to stand and felt his long legs slip out form under him. He took three cartoon steps of going nowhere before he fell, the palms of his hands slamming into the cement shooting two frozen bolts of pain up his arms. He stayed there, on all fours, his mouth set, his eyes watering as he forced himself not to cry in frustration. He could do this. He could walk to the gosh darn store and get a darn can of freaking soup without causing himself bodily harm or needing someone to help him.
He looked around, taking his entire environment into consideration before moving again. He was next to the store wall, since he was trying to avoid the snow piled up by the gutters. Placing a gloved hand to the wall he braced himself and tried to get up again. His feet began to slip again and he froze, going back to all fours. Shoving the glove in his mouth he tore it off with his teeth and tossed it aside. Using the bare palm he grabbed the brick and imagined that he had bitten by a radioactive spider...and then shuddered at the thought. He imagined had taken a radioactive spider serum that tasted like root beer and given him the ability to stick to walls with his hands as he slowly began to get to his feet. Leaning on the brick as hard as he could he used what leverage he had to hold himself up until the flat of his feet touched cement.
Sighing he let go of the wall and looked at his hand. It was red and pockmarked, points of blood were welling up in various places and there was small rocks imbedded everywhere. He wiped his hand on his pants and looked down at his discarded glove.
“Screw it.” he said to himself and kept walking towards the door, he was not going to lean down to grab it for all the money in the world.
Three more steps and his hand was on the door, the metal bit into his open sores as he hissed despite himself. Forcing himself to keep a grip he pulled himself around the corner, his boots literally sliding on the iced sidewalk until he was in front of the double doors in triumph.
Pulling the door open the blast of heat hit him and his face broke into needles of pain as it began to unnumb. He stumbled and almost tripped as his feet found traction on the black rug placed in front of the door, his hands rotated as he struggled to remain upright...
Until the wind slammed the door closed.
Sam went flying forward, his already sore and torn up hands hitting the tiled floor. Tears welled in his eyes as his palm burned with the impact...he was not going to cry...he was not going to cry...
The laughter that came from the back of the store hurt more than his hands.
Sam looked up and saw a group of five kids huddled around a video game, all of them laughing and pointing at the kid who had fell into the store like he was Chevy Chase. Sam knew his face was red for more than the cold as he got up slowly. The man behind the counter looked down at him with concern “You ok son?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
Which just made Sam madder.
“I'm fine!” he practically spat as he unzipped his jacket and began walking down an isle. The laughter had died down but Sam knew they were watching him, they were a pack of local kids with nothing to do and Sam was an outsider...you didn't need to be a genius to know where this was heading. Sam found the canned goods, he grabbed three cans of chicken soup along with a few Spagettios and a can of Spam for good measure. He tossed them all into the red hand basket as he moved over to the candy...no use in going to the store if you can't buy yourself some sugar.
Why did that sound like something Dean would say?
Sam made a face as he tried to decide between chocolate, which was more expensive, or taffy, which meant you got more candy. It was not a decision any kid made without thought since it might never come around again. He was in midreach for a chocolate bar when a hand grabbed his other arm hard.
“Were you giving me and my friends a loo....” the voice began to say.
Which was about the time Sam moved to face him, his knee thrusting upwards at an impressive velocity. The older boy froze as his testicles waited the standard four seconds before sending the pain information to the brain, crippling him instantly. Sam took a step back as the boy let out a startled groan and sank to the floor. In a whisper Sam leaned forward “No thanks...you're not my type.”
And then he grabbed the chocolate bar.
He walked calmly to the counter as the boy's friends ran over to him and helped him up. Sam kept watch on them through the huge mirror behind the counter as the man rang him up. He saw him toss the soup in one bag and then pull out a second plastic bag. Sam held out a hand “No thanks, I'll take them all in one bag please.”
The man paused and then shrugged as he threw the rest of the cans into the bag. Sam smiled at him “Can you double bag it please?” The storekeeper tried not to frown as he put the bag into another, Sam watched the boys begin to move down the isle at him.
Grabbing the wad of money in his pocket he threw it down on the counter and took the bag “Thankskeepthechnage!” and hightailed it to the door.
The pack of boys were right on his ass.
This time Sam was ready for the ice, as he hit the sidewalk he held his hands out, balancing as he slid out the door and towards the curb. He grabbed the nearest parking meter and stopped himself as the door burst open...and five boys fell to the ground as one. Sam laughed as he began to move farther away down the sidewalk “Walk on two legs much?” he called out, ditching to his right into the alley between the buildings.
Taking a few seconds to wrap the strap of the bag around his ungloved wrist he turned to face the alley's opening as the five boys came around the corner looking like a pack of wild dogs. The largest boy, the one Sam had kneed, had a snarl on his face as they advanced “You're dead short shit.”
Sam paused and cocked his head “Short shit? Really?” and shook his head “You kids these days...” and he held up his gloved hand motioning to the boy like Bruce Lee“...no imagination.”
The boy screamed and raced at Sam full boar, his hands clenched into fists as his eyes flashed murder at the younger boy.
Unphased Sam brought his other arm up in a flash, knocking the boy right under the chin with the cans. The sound of metal clanging filled the alley as the boys chin flew back and his feet actually left the pavement. Like a great tree he fell backwards like board, unconscious. The other four boys froze in midcheer as they saw their leader felled in one blow. Not being able to resist Sam brought the bag around into a spin and grinned “Who's next?”
There was a complete silence and the four boys turned and rushed out of the alley as fast as they could. Sam tried not to laugh as they tripped and fell several times on the sidewalk before taking off. Sam knelt down and checked his victim's jaw...nothing seemed broken...he was breathing ok. He made sure the boys hands were in his pocket and replaced his hat over his ears before leaving the alley with a jaunt in his step.
Whistling a nameless tune he made his way back to the motel in a few minutes. When he walked in Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, looking like he was a staged corpse from a gangster movie. He looked up, his eyes barely open as he looked at Sam “You ok?”
Sam sighed as he put the bag on the counter and took off his jacket “I'm fine Dean.” he moved over and put his brother's arm around his shoulder “Come on, get back in bed while I make you some soup.”
Dean got to his feet like a newborn colt and Sam grunted as he supported him for a few steps “Shouldn't go out by self...” Dean said as Sam dumped him face first on the bed.
Sam grabbed the covers and pulled them over Dean “Yeah yeah, and don't run with guns and if you keep your face like that it will freeze...I got it Dean.”
Dean rolled over, wrapping himself in the covers as he sat up “Seriously. You ok? Have any trouble?”
Sam paused at the stove and looked back at Dean with a smirk of his own “Nothing I couldn't handle.” he dumped the contents of the can into the pot “Don't have to worry about me Dean.” he said tossing it away “I got nothing to worry about.”
And then he exploded with a huge sneeze that almost knocked him off his feet.
Dean chuckled as he laid down “Uh-huh....welcome to the plague Sammy.”
Sam wiped his nose and he mumbled under his breath “Balls!”