Title: When the Bogeyman Comes Calling
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Takes place directly after s2ep4: 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things". Hurt/Sick!Sam Hurt!Dean Comfort/Angst/Protective!Brothers
Author's note: Just me exploring Sam and Dean's brotherly angst and love and hey! There's a Boogeyman! :D Also, for those interested, I wrote the poem. K. J. Logan is my pen name though I've yet to be published. Working on that.
Please Read and Review and let me know what you think and how I'm doing. Thank you!
"When the Bogeyman comes calling
Keep your children near.
Lock your doors and windows tight
Don't let him smell your fear.
When the Bogeyman comes calling
Say prayers in the dark
Salt the door and hang a shoe
Before he makes his mark.
When the Bogeyman comes calling
Sleep not in your bed
For he is hungry, strong and fierce
and surely you'll be dead."
-K. J. Logan
"Dad! You have to come!" Little seven year old Tommy dragged his sleepy and un-amused father by the hand, down the hall and to his room. His He-Man PJ's scuffing the floor he pulled and pulled even as Dad lagged behind, sleepy eyes refusing to open all the way.
"Tommy." His father yawned. "There's nothing in your closet. You know that. We've been over this."
"Is too!" Tommy insisted. He dodged behind his Dad and pushed him into his room, pointing at the offending door. It was covered in Transformers stickers, a Pittsburgh Steelers pennant tacked proudly to the top. His father sighed and opened the door.
"See?" He waved his hand magically into the closet, batting the winter coat and wrinkly tee shirts, setting them swinging. "Nothin' here. Come on little man." He picked up his son and put him back in his bed, tugging the blankets up over him.
"But Dad!" Tommy argued, still pointing.
"No buts. Now go to sleep." The father patted his son fondly on his head and turned off the light as he went gratefully back to his own bed.
"Is too in the closet." Tommy whined softly, sitting against his headboard, blanket clutched to his nose. He watched. There was a creak. Tommy's eyes widened. There was a scuff from the open closet door. Tommy began to pant in fear. There were two red eyes blinking out of the closet at him. Tommy threw his blanket over his head and prayed.
Sam Winchester sat miserable in the passenger seat of the Impala, waiting for his brother Dean to emerge from the gas station. He held his arm, newly wrapped in a cast the day before and wondered how much longer he could go without taking the pain killers the Doctor had given him. They made him goofy and sleepy, two things that made his older brother want to screw with him. Well, normally it would but they had been anything but normal since Dad died. Dean putting his arm around him when they set his arm had been the most emotion he'd seen except for anger. Sam was almost grateful for Zombie Angela snapping his wrist, just for that.
Dean was hurting, they both were, but for Dean it was worse. He knew. The suspicion that their Dad had sold his soul to Hell to save Dean's life was tearing his big brother apart. His big brother who somehow, after all this time, all the monsters beaten and all the lives saved, still couldn't see his own worth.
Sam wiped damp eyes as Dean appeared and worked at putting a smile on his face. Dean hopped in the drivers seat and handed a coffee to Sam. "You find a job for us in there?" He nodded at the newspaper spread in Sam's lap.
Driven. That was Dean these days. Obsessed with the hunt as if throwing himself into it would drown out the sorrow and pain. Sam had no luck slowing him down and resigned himself to be along for the ride. He'd apologized yesterday and Sam held onto that though little had changed. It was a step in the right direction and with Dean, baby steps were all you got.
"Yeah, I think so." Sam tapped the page. "You'll like this. First, we have to go to Intercourse, Pennsylvania."
Dean's eyes went wide. "Wait. Wait." A slow grin spread beneath his green eyes. "What saint named a whole town after sex!"
Sam shook his head, smiling. "One track mind much, Dean? It's actually named after a conjunction of two important roads that used to connect in the center of town."
"My reason is so much cooler." Dean gunned the engine and shot out onto the road. "So what's the job?"
"Ok. So over the last couple years there's been some weird stuff happening in this renovated apartment building, Cross Keys Apartments. Little things like milk spoiling instantly, people getting sick more than they should, the odd dog or cat going lame for no reason."
"So far not interested." Dean commented.
"Let me finish?" Sam grumbled. "Last couple weeks six people have woken up suffering Hypothermia and last night a guy died." Sam paused. "Single Dad. His kid said he saw the Bogeyman kill his Dad."
"Dude!" Dean looked excited now. "We get to hunt an actual Bogeyman? HOT damn!"
Sam chuckled. "Thought that would get you." He folded the papers away. "They're called Boggarts by the way, not Bogeymen."
"It bothers me when you know that stuff without looking. Geek." Dean grinned. "How do we gank one?"
"Ah." Sam shrugged. "No idea. I'll have to do some digging. Thing is, they're usually a harmless nuisance from what little I've read."
"So what set this one off?" Dean wondered and pressed the gas, speeding toward a job and action and another chance to forget for a while.
They found a motel only two blocks from Cross Keys Apartments. For the questionable side of town, it actually didn't look half bad.
"Let's drop our gear and go have a look around for Boogeymen." Dean said as he opened the room door.
"It's almost three in the morning, Dean." Sam argued. "Let's get some sleep and start fresh in a few hours."
"We can sleep when we're dead." Dean said firmly, anxious to be moving and hunting.
"Dean." Sam shut the door and dropped his duffel. He braced for another fight. "Burning yourself out isn't going to change anything."
"Shut up, Sammy." Dean growled. He knew where his little brother was going and didn't like it anymore now than he had the last thirty times.
"Dammit, Dean. You need sleep." Sam said, trying for reasonable. "I know you're hurting…"
"Sam." Dean warned but Sam carried on.
"But you're exhausted. So am I." Sam stepped closer to Dean, risking a bad tempered punch. "Never go half-assed and exhausted into a job."
"Don't you quote Dad at me!" Dean kicked the end of one of the beds and glared around at the blue walls, dark wood furniture and checkered carpet…anywhere but at the tormented hazel eyes trying to find his. "Fine." Dean ground out. "Job tomorrow." He stalked to the door and bumped Sam out of the way.
"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked, tired.
"For a drink, Sammy. Don't wait up." He slammed out of the room and Sam sighed.
Dean stood on the street below Cross Keys. Each time he thought to take that step and cross the street, Sam's voice and Dad's words stopped him. He'd struck out looking for somewhere to get drunk. The streets rolled up at two am in Intercourse. He knew he was being an ass…again. He scrubbed a hand over his face, disgusted with himself. He'd only just apologized to Sam for exactly this kind of hard-headed crap the day before and here he was all over again.
"Dammit." He turned away from the apartment building and headed back to the Motel, exhaustion in every bone. "I hate it when you're right, Sammy."
Sam sat on his bed against the headboard, cast on his stomach and tried to distract himself from the pain and the fever that had started with research. What little he knew about Boggarts didn't extend to how to kill them. The warmth from the battery of his laptop on his thighs was not helping his fever.
He took the water bottle from the table and rolled it across his forehead. It was still cool enough to feel good and he sighed in relief. Sam had hoped he'd avoid the fever the Doctor warned him of. "Healing bones wreak all sorts of havoc the first few days." He'd been told. The prescription pain killers the Doc had given him were in his bag, on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tempting as they were, he just didn't have the energy to move that far.
Dean opened the door and Sam looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected his brother back until the sun was up and piss drunk to boot.
"Hey." Dean said as he shut the door and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Hey." Sam tossed back and made an effort not to stare, comment or push. He was back and sober and Sam would leave this gift horse alone.
Dean stood there for a moment, glanced at Sam and then went into the bathroom, closing the door. Sam smiled in relief. Coming from Dean, that short look was tantamount to a hug. He smirked. Dean's own brand of a chick flick moment.
Sam closed the laptop, set it aside wearily and toed off his shoes. Now that Dean was back he could sleep. He slid down and stifled a groan, readjusting his arm. Dean emerged and headed to his own bed.
"Night, Sam." He said tiredly and got a grunt in response. Poor kid was beat; Dean thought and turned out the lights.
Dean snapped awake, his sense of 'something wrong' pulling him out of sleep.
"Sammy?" He asked and heard his brother moan. "Crap." He flicked the lights on and rolled out of bed. Sam was tossing restlessly, sheets wrapped around his legs. His shirt was stuck to his chest with sweat, hair matted to his face.
"Sammy?" Dean smoothed his hair away and cursed when he felt the heat pouring off of him. Sam was burning up with fever and he suddenly remembered the Doctor's warning for just this. The expression on Sam's face said he was in pain as well. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should have seen this earlier."
"Sorry." Sam whispered. Dean leaned over, trying to still his brothers movements. "I'm sorry, Dad." Sam said in such a lost, heartbroken voice Dean felt his own chest tighten.
"It's okay, Sammy." Dean held Sam's shoulders while he shook in his fever dream, brushed a hand over his forehead. "Dad knows." He said softly.
He turned away and went to Sam's bag. He dug through it for aspirin and the pain killers then wet a rag in the bathroom and got a glass of water. He set them on the table between the beds and laid the ice cold cloth on Sam's forehead.
"Wake up, Sammy." Dean tapped his cheek. "Come on, buddy. Stop scaring me."
Sam's movements slowed, his breathing began to even out and his eyes fluttered open. They were fever bright and looked up at Dean with complete trust. In that moment Dean hated their Dad. Save Sam or kill him. What the hell kind of crap was that to put on his shoulders? Of course he would save him because there was no way he would ever, ever kill him.
"Dean." Sam mumbled. "Don't feel so good."
"Got news for ya. You don't look so good." Dean picked up Sam's good hand and dropped the pills in. "Take these." He ordered. Sam didn't argue and took the water shakily, washing them down.
"Thanks." Sam gulped the rest of the water and Dean rescued the glass as it slipped.
"Alright, that's enough for now, Sammy." Dean took the washcloth from his forehead and went back to the bathroom to re-wet it as it had already gone warm from touching Sam's skin.
"Dean?" Sam's weak voice had him back at the bed at a run.
"Hey, Sammy. I'm right here." Dean laid the cold cloth back again. Sam sick and in pain revived old instincts in Dean. He'd spent all of Sam's life taking care of him, raising him. Even now with all the misery in Dean's head, Sam took precedence. Caring for him slowly gave Dean some small measure of peace. If nothing else, he was glad to still be alive for this; for Sam. He just wondered if it would be enough.
Sam's eyes closed and his body relaxed inch by inch as the medication started to work. Dean untangled the blankets from his legs and pulled the sheet up to Sam's chest.
"That's it, Sam. Get some rest now." He propped Sam's cast on a spare pillow and settled next to him, hand on his shoulder, to keep watch until his fever broke.
Sam came back to waking with a groan, wanting to stay where he was; asleep and not in pain. He blinked gritty eyes open and was happy to not feel as hot as he had when he fell asleep. He looked down and saw stockinged feet resting on his bed attached to legs that belonged to Dean. Tilted all the way back in a chair between the beds with his head resting on his own bed, he snored.
"Dean." Sam said and made a face. His mouth felt full of sand. "Yeck." Dean didn't stir, sound asleep. Sam smirked and sat up slowly. The pain in his arm was thankfully less today and he sighed in relief. He tossed the sheet off and pushed himself to the end of the bed around Dean's feet. Sam stood, swayed a moment and decided he could stay that way long enough to shower, shave and by god brush his sandy teeth.
The shower was heaven. The toothpaste nirvana and Sam stepped out of the steamy bathroom feeling much more himself.
"Afternoon, Sasquatch." Dean greeting him, now awake. "You leave me any hot water?"
Sam smirked. "Maybe."
"Bitch." Dean smiled and then studied Sam's face. Deciding he liked what he saw, he nodded. "Let me grab a cold shower." He punched Sam's shoulder lightly on his way past. "And we'll go find food and then maybe a Bogeyman."
"Jerk." Sam laughed. Today was starting out much better than yesterday had ended.
to be continued...