This is the tenth story in my series.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own or have the rights to anything of the Supernatural universe. I am just playing in their sandbox.
Note: This chapter has been edited from it's original form for compliance with the M rating on FanFiction. For the full, MA version of this chapter please visit this same story on Archive of Our Own. The story title and chapter title are the same. The author name is DeepLittleSOB. The link to my Dashboard is in my profile.
There was no fucking way she was letting this happen. No fucking way.
She's always hated ghouls. They're disgusting, scavenging, nasty fuckers and right now the one they've been tracking is about to get the jump on her man. Her rage takes over with the sight of the evil piece of shit just a few short feet away from Dean and before she can do anything about it, Lizzy is marching swiftly and without regard for herself in the direction of the creature. She pauses only to stoop once to pick up the lone, stranded two by four on the rotting wooden floor of the long abandoned house, no real plan in sight.
As it's now just a few mere inches from Dean and ready to pounce by the time she gets to them, Lizzy takes a solid swing. The heavy wooden board collides with the ghoul's skull, making a sickening cracking noise. The inhuman groan of pain it produces as it falls onto the floor with the harsh blow leaves her with a disturbingly high level of satisfaction.
Dean spins sharply around when he hears the commotion to find Lizzy standing there, tossing the board haphazardly and sharply off to the side once it's played it part and pulling her gun out from behind her back. He looks over everything while stunned for a moment, realizing how she just saved his ass from, at the very least, a nasty, unrecognized attack.
With her gun aimed at the ghoul it begins to get up, moving slow at first but Lizzy finds that it's just a rouse; this thing was just pretending to be down and out. She should have seen it coming, known it was a trap, but before she can make the kill her legs are kicked out from under her and she lands on her back onto the floor of what was once a dining room.
"Fucking shit," Lizzy breathes out her complaint, her back flaring in quick pain with the fall.
Dean turns his gun on the ghoul as it climbs atop Lizzy's laying form but he never gets a shot off as he can't get a clear one in. Instantly Lizzy is in combat mode, her training putting her brain on auto-raging-out-hunter-pilot, and when the ghoul pins her arms to the sides she head-butts it immediately. Seeing how dazed by the blow it is, her arms now free once it's too hurt to keep its hold on her, Lizzy starts in with the punches. A strong right using the butt of her Glock followed by a left hook, her fist hitting the same spot on its skull that she hit with the board, she can feel the fractured bones shifting under her knuckles. Lizzy then pushes the thing off of her and she stands up.
"L, move!" Dean shouts, his gun ready to take the shot and end the son of a bitch on the floor.
"No!" Lizzy points her index finger strongly at him before turning back to the struggling ghoul on the floor. "He's mine."
She stalks over to the ghoul all the while enjoying its suffering. The blood pouring from its left cheek and the pool collecting under its head makes her smile a bit. It felt good that she's the reason for its suffering. She presses the bottom of her boot into its neck to hold it in place for her. With wide eyes the ghoul looks up to her with utter fear, the expression making something within Lizzy too happy.
"How's it feel?" she asks with utter amusement down to the thing under her foot.
"How's what feel?" it asks, voice nearly cut off by the pressure on its neck.
"To know your about to die?" she clarifies while aiming her gun right between its eyes. "Scary, ain't it?"
"Fuck you," it spits right back, not playing into her.
"You really shouldn't have said that," Lizzy returns calmly as she pulls the trigger, the bullet hitting its mark smack between the ghoul's eyes. As soon as the shot's booming sound stops echoing around the nearly empty, darkened house, Lizzy lifts her heavy boot off of the monster and turns to face Dean with a proud smile. "That'll teach him to try and turn my man into a Big Mac, huh?"
Dean's expression is dark as he looks at her, making her feel as if he's angry with what she did. Now that she takes a second to think about it Lizzy realizes she might have made a huge mistake. She went off the rails again, just like they said they wouldn't do anymore. And she should have let Dean kill the ghoul when he could. He had the shot lined up and it would have been the efficient and smart thing to do. But she was pissed. How dare this thing think it could try and take Dean from her? But this is exactly what they both needed to stop doing.
"Shit," Lizzy laments. "Hot Shot, I know I shouldn't have done…"
Before she can get the words out Dean has closed the space between them. He swiftly crushes his lips against hers, his arms around her immediately. That dark look he gave her wasn't anger after all. It was something very much different.
Pushing her back into the nearest wall, Dean attacks. He knows he should be mad, should be furious, but he just isn't at all. Instead the whole display was the biggest fucking turn on he's gotten from her in a while… and that's saying a lot. She was protecting her man and she was fantastic at it, nearly flawless. For once he's letting himself get caught up in how damn good she is and how fucking much she loved him instead of be too concerned and protective to enjoy it.
"What has gotten into you?" Lizzy pants out with his lips still working against hers.
"You," Dean quickly explains as he drops his gun to the floor in order to reach for the front of her jeans with both hands.
"I take it you're not mad at me then?" Lizzy wonders, eyes already heavily lidded as the button of her pants are popped open, followed quickly by her zipper.
"You're fucking amazing," he tells her, attacking her neck. "The way you just saved my ass… so fucking hot." He tumbles into a total frenzy of need and rushed desire, attacking her without thought.
"Damn," Lizzy huffs with a half-smile on her lips as she turns to face him once it's over. She pulls him down to kiss her once before asking, "What the fuck was that?"
"Uh… me being awesome?" Dean shares a shit eating grin. He needed to stall as at the moment as he really isn't too sure what just happened there.
"Very true," she nods with a warm smile. "But try again."
"I don't know, honestly," Dean tells her, arms around her frame and pulling her in as he looks down at her happy face. "You just really turned me on there."
"So you like being the damsel in distress?" she pokes fun and Dean pushes her away from him immediately.
"Fuck you…" he complains with disgust at her words.
"No! It's cute," Lizzy pulls him back and locks her arms around his waist. "And I like that you find my badassery sexy."
"Jesus Christ," Dean rolls his eyes and brings his arms around her shoulders. She's making his fucking her in a craze so embarrassingly lame.
"Well if this is the thanks I get for saving your hide then let me tell you…" she presses up on her toes and moves in closer to him. "I'm gonna kill anything that comes within a mile of you."
Dean huffs a small, amused laugh and kisses her long. She really would do as she said, he doesn't doubt it. Greatest fucking woman ever.
"That's why I married ya," he jokes back.
"You're God damned right," Lizzy cheers as she looks through the doorway to the dining room. The dead ghoul is still lying motionless on the floor. "Can't say I've ever had sex while this close to a dead monster before."
"There's a first for everything I guess," he jokes right back and sighs. "So salt and burn then check on Sammy?"
"Uh," Lizzy complains loudly as she lets go of him, not wanting to go through all that work. "Yeah yeah." She reaches down to her half-on pants and starts to put herself back in order.
"Hey I don't want to do it either," he assures, also pulling his pants back on. "And I definitely don't want to head back to the motel and hang out with Upchuck Buck."
"Aw, stop it," Lizzy coos as she buttons her jeans. "The poor dude is so sick right now. He can't help it."
"Yeah, I know," he responds in a down tone. He may play it off and make fun but when Sam's sick he hates it. He feels helpless. It sucks.
"Alright, let's get this over with," Lizzy grumpily states as she walks towards the ghoul's lifeless body. "Fucking hate these disgusting things." For good measure she kicks it in its once head with the full force of her boot.
Cold. There is something seriously cold on his cheek and it feels… damn good.
Leaning up off his pillow just an inch and into the gentile coldness, Sam sighs as he comes out of his hazy, thick sleep.
"How you feeling, Sam-I-Am?"
"Your hand is freezing," Sam comments in his roughed up voice as he pries his watery eyes open to see her. Lizzy is smiling softly at him as she sits on the floor by the edge of his bed.
"Sorry," she laughs quietly while taking it away. "It's fucking cold out."
"Felt good," he simply tells her, already missing the relief.
"That's because you're burning up," Lizzy explains as she gets up.
"S' hot in here,' Sam complains, his legs weakly kicking off the blankets over him. He was turning into an ice cube when Lizzy and Dean left to go find the ghouls they'd tracked into town. Before getting into bed Sam had put on a hooded sweatshirt, sweatpants, and a pair of the wool socks Lizzy had bought them a while back. It wasn't enough. Even bundled in thick sweats and two comforters (he stole Dean and Lizzy's to double up) he was shivering while half watching the news in bed. Now it's like their room was a sauna and he'd give anything to cool off.
"Here," Lizzy says while handing over three ibuprofen pills and a bottle of water. "This should help regulate the temperature in there." She points to his overall form before pulling his plastered bangs off his forehead. "You at least feeling less nauseous?"
"Haven't puked since you left if that's what you mean," Sam answers while sitting up and leaning into the headboard with his back. He downs the pills immediately, looking to feel better in any way possible.
"That's good," she nods. "Ginger ale?"
"Sure," Sam tells her just to make her happy. Lizzy heads to the mini-fridge.
"You ready to try some saltines or something?" she wonders over while pouring him a glass of soda.
"Don't wanna," Sam makes a disgusted face.
"Fine, but soon you have to," Lizzy scolds lightly while sitting on the edge of his bed and handing over the drink. "You haven't eaten in like two days." As Sam takes a sip he peers at her, her face concerned and set in a completely fake smile.
"I'm ok, Lizzy," Sam complains to her. "Relax. It's just the flu."
"I know," she assures. "I just hate seeing you like this. I mean, you're Sam. You're supposed to be this big, walking and talking wall of a badass hunter, not some sick little kid who looks so miserable and sad."
"I'm not a kid."
"But you look like one."
"Hey, don't piss off the nurse," she points at him jokingly.
"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't," Sam admits. "Dean sucks as a nurse."
"He'd look good in the uniform though" she laughs aloud, picturing the ridiculous thought in her mind. "But that's weird. I figured over protective big brother would have been awesome when you were sick."
"He was too afraid to catch it," Sam tells her, leaning his head back onto the headboard for support. "When Dean is sick… Jesus, just try not to find out what he's like when sick."
"Complains his ass off?" she surmises while pulling off his heavy socks for him.
"Understatement," Sam rolls his eyes before closing them. "And when I was sick as a kid he had to do everything… research, weapon cleaning, everything dad needed done."
"So he was grouchy as fuck," Lizzy adds in simply, knowing already that it's true.
"Oh yeah," Sam manages a weak smile at the memory.
"I bet it was because he couldn't make it stop though," Lizzy makes an assumption knowingly. "He can't kill a flu and it was something going after you…"
"Bet you're right," Sam agrees while thinking it over. "He did always get soup for me though."
"Of course he did… he probably got some for himself too," Lizzy laughs. "The man thinks with his stomach more than he does his brain."
"His dick still trumps them all."
"Ha!" Lizzy shouts loudly in sheer amusement before laughing again. "You have no idea how true that statement is." Considering where she just came from, Sam is absolutely right.
"Gross," Sam complains. "I'm sick enough. Don't wanna talk about Dean having sex."
"Hey, that's not gross," Lizzy says in faux offence.
"Oh come on," Sam weakly rebuts while sinking back into a lying position under the thin sheet. "You two are definitely gross with what you do together."
"And how would you know?"
"I just do," Sam answers with another eye roll. He knows them well enough. "Gross is the perfect word."
Lizzy just shrugs the insult away. How could she say anything after having sexy next to a dead creature corpse in a dirty, probably vermin infested house?
"Go back to sleep Sam," Lizzy says while patting him on the knee and standing back up. "You look like you're exhausted."
"I am." He snuggles into the lumpy pillow that today feels a lot better than it normally would. Being up and conversing for five minutes knocked the shit out of him.
"Alright, I'll keep it quiet…"
Right then the door to the room opens.
"Hey Sammy!" Dean says in a cheery voice when he sees Sam's eye open. "How ya' feeling?" He slams the door shut behind him and Sam wince with the loud sound hammering through his skull.
"Clearly not half as good as you," he answers while burying his face in the pillow and pulling the sheet over his head to get away from everything happening in the suddenly too small room.
"Sam's still exhausted so he's going back to sleep," Lizzy informs Dean as she places her index finger to her lips to keep him quiet.
"He can't do that," Dean says quickly.
"Why not?" Sam questions through the pillow obscuring his voice.
"Soup time, dude."
The simple answer makes Sam groan with disgust.
"Hot Shot, he's seriously not hungry," Lizzy answers, knowing how badly Dean wants to help out. He dropped her off before heading to the grocery store to pick up everything he needed to make soup for Sam. She hates to disappoint but she thinks Sam will start throwing up again if he has to eat.
"What?" Dean brushes off, pulling out the microwavable minute rice and cans of premade tomato-basil soup from the paper bag he'd been carrying. "Sam always feels better after some tomato-rice soup. Always."
Sam stays under the covers but the corners of his mouth turn up just slightly. Ever since they were kids this was the one thing Dean did when he felt like shit to make it all better. He would dump cans of tomato soup together with cooked rice into a bowl and call it the sick cure all. Sam is well aware that this was something their mother did when Dean was sick. Of course, whenever Dean was sick as a kid the soup their mother made was from scratch and was probably perfect, but his brother did what he could with the crap that they had in the shitty motels they would be in. Sam has to respect the effort.
"Dean," Sam can hear Lizzy whisper, keeping it quiet for him. "He's gonna start throwing up again. Just let him sleep for now and make it later."
"It's fine," Sam lies as he pulls his head out from his cocoon and talks to the two others in the room. "I can eat."
"Sam, you just said…" Lizzy starts before he gets cut off.
"I know what I said," Sam says with fake assurance. "But Dean's right. That stuff makes me feel better." Ok, so maybe it didn't. And Lizzy was right; the last thing he wants to do right now is eat. But this is what Dean does to help. He makes tomato rice soup. It's a quirk he has, has always had, and Sam would never deny Dean the chance to use one of their mom's old tricks to make him feel better.
"See!" Dean says with glee as he pops the bag of microwavable rice into the small microwave their room came with. "Sam will be on his feet and ready help kick some ass in no time with a little homemade soup."
"Homemade, huh?" Lizzy jests as she picks up and examines the premade canned soup.
"Well, as homemade as a hunter on the run can get," Dean rebuts, not liking her making fun of his ways. "It may not be perfect, but it's what we got. And when Sam is sick, tomato-rice soup it is."
"Ah, and why tomato rice?" Lizzy keeps prying, never having seen this kind of behavior from Dean before. "Why not just the tomato soup as is?"
"Because that's not what mom made," Sam says, his face still half smashed against the pillow under it with his eyes closed. "When Dean was sick as a kid mom made him tomato rice soup."
"Ah," Lizzy nods her understanding. It's a learned behavior from the woman he never had enough time with. She walks to Dean's side and presses up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Then that's very sweet of you, Hot Shot."
"Oh yeah, now it's sweet," Dean says sarcastically after her change of tune once she knows the reasoning behind his weirdness.
"Thanks, Dean," Sam calls out from under the covers and Dean just smirks a little. So maybe he's not as good as Lizzy is at taking care of sick Sam. Sam is gross right now and he doesn't want to go near him. Lizzy has that mothering thing going on anyways and Sam's never really had that. But, Dean will always do what he can to give his brother glimpses of what life was, what it could have been, had Yellow Eyes never met them.