![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
daylight_darknightOkay, I admit it. This is just a plain and simple, sterotypical hurt/comfort fic. I just needed to get this scene out of my head. *wanders off to write something more deep and original, or possibly just completely silly*
Title: Time for Care and Time for Sleep
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG for blood and swearing
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2384
Spoilers: Up to 5x04
Summary: Castiel interrupts Dean's sleep but he has a very good reason.
Time for Care and Time for Sleep
By Daylight
The motel room had pea soup green walls and mud brown carpets. One of the lamps was missing, the chairs were mismatched and the table tilted at an odd angle as if two of the legs were shorter than the others. It also smelt significantly of rotting fruit, but Dean didn’t notice any of that. Dean didn’t notice the cracks in the ceiling, the odd yellowish stains, or the cockroaches crawling in the corners. All Dean saw when he opened the door were the beds.
He made straight for the closest one, dumping his duffle and falling face first into the pillow. The mattress was hard, the covers were stiff and starchy, and the sheets smelt of mildew, but he didn’t care. He was too busy revelling in the blissful sensation of being able to lie down and no longer carry his heavy weight on his tired feet.
Dimly he heard the sound of Sam entering, shutting the door and letting his own bag fall to the floor. Footsteps made their way passed him and the other bed creaked as Sam sat down. The younger Winchester let out a long tired sigh. Dean wanted to make a comment about how wimpy and girly it sounded, but all he managed was a grunt. Soon, he felt himself drifting off, sensations dimming as he passed into sleep, but a noise suddenly brought him back to consciousness or at least it tired to.
“Dean, your phone’s ringing.”
“No, it isn’t,” Dean mumbled into his pillow even as the cell continued to play its little tune.
“Do you want me to answer it?”
“No.”
“It might be important,” Sam pointed out already getting up and reaching for the pocket of the coat Dean was still wearing.
Dean slapped his brother’s hand away. “Paws off,” he grumbled, but it was too late. He was awake now and he got the feeling neither the phone nor his brother was going to leave him alone any time soon. So letting out his own sigh, he rolled over and pulled out the cell. “What?” he growled into it.
“Dean,” greeted the voice of Castiel.
The elder Winchester groaned. Cas’ voice was the last he wanted to hear. The angel might be his friend, but he never actually called with anything good. It was always demon this and apocalypse that. Just for once he’d like for Cas to call him up to invite him out for drinks or down to a strip club or something. Not that that was very likely considering the angel’s general attitude to such things, but he could still dream.
“I need your help. Where are you?”
It seemed he would have to keep dreaming.
“No. No. No. No,” Dean repeated hoping that would help it sink in.
“Dean…”
He was really getting irritated by the way people kept saying his name like that. Glancing over at his brother, he saw Sam shrug indicating the decision was up to him, but he could tell from Sam’s slumped posture and worn out expression that he wasn’t ready for another hunt so soon either.
“No. We’re not up for God hunting or demon hunting or Colt hunting right now,” Dean declared. “It’s sleep time, Cas. Call me in 24 hours and I might consider it, but no sooner.”
“This doesn’t concern that and I don’t believe it can wait.”
“Then what is it?”
“I… I need your help.”
There was a catch in the angel’s voice, a rare show of emotion, something that made Dean’s guts twist and every one of his instincts tell him to sit up and take notice. They fought against his desire for peace and sleep, and finally won. Moaning, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Myrtle Creek, Oregon, the Slumberville Motel, room 11.”
The line was immediately disconnected. Dean put the phone away and threw an arm over his face already regretting his decision. There was a silent pause, just long enough for Dean to begin wondering why Cas hadn’t appeared instantly like he usually did, before he heard the announcing flutter of wings. He stayed lying there almost drifting back into sleep and hoping vainly that he might somehow be able to help from the comfort of bed when he heard two things that spiked enough adrenaline to bring him instantly to his feet.
The first was his brother swearing in a way that set all of Dean’s nerves on edge.
“Shit…”
The second was what Cas said in response.
“It won’t stop bleeding.”
Dean was standing before he’d even fully processed what the angel had said. Castiel stood stiffly at the far end of the room. The normally unchanging appearance of the angel was marred by a large trail of blood coming from his shoulder and covering the entire right side of his trench coat. The expression on his pale face was one of mild concern mixed with some confusion and possibly even a little fear. It seemed very inconsistent with the enormity of his injury, but for Cas showing that much emotion was the equivalent of full on panic.
“Shit,” said Dean mimicking his brother.
Sam was ahead of him already reaching the angel and yanking him over to the end of his bed. He removed the bloody trench coat and forced Cas to sit down. Years spent patching each other up after hunts gone wrong set in and they went into automatic mode. Dean grabbed a towel from the bathroom as Sam quickly removed Cas’ jacket, tie and shirt. Castiel offered no resistance or help, letting himself be manipulated and watching with a slightly perplexed expression which would have been funny if things hadn’t been so dire.
“Crap,” said Dean swearing again when he finally got a good look at the large hole in Cas’ shoulder.
“It goes all the way through,” Sam informed him as he pulled out the first aid kit.
Dean shook his head resisting the urge to swear a third time as he glanced at Cas’ back and saw the exit wound he’d missed before. Taking the towel, he pressed it firmly against both of the sluggishly leaking holes. Cas winced and tried to flinch away, but the brothers held him still. The reaction surprised Dean. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten the impression that angels didn’t actually feel pain. He could clearly recall Castiel not even blinking when he’d stabbed him the day they’d first met. Obviously from Cas’ response, it wasn’t true. He could now recognize the lines of pain around Cas’ eyes and he really didn’t like seeing them there.
While Dean kept pressure on the wounds, Sam went over to the sink and filled an old plastic bottle with water. He brought it back and handed it to the angel. “Here. You need to replace the fluids you lost.”
Cas stared at it presumably not used to the necessity of filling such a human need, but after a moment, he obediently drank. Sam dug through the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of pills. Shaking two into the palm of his hand, he offered them to Castiel. Cas just looked at them in confusing.
“They’re painkillers,” Sam explained.
An image flashed through Dean’s mind of Castiel popping pills with a half-mad grin on his face and a broken look in his eyes, and he found himself fighting the urge to knock the pills out of Sam’s hand.
Cas took the pills and placed them in his mouth.
“Swallow. Don’t chew,” Sam said quickly as he handed him back the water.
The angel managed to swallow the pills pulling a face as he did so. Dean added it to the expressions he’d never expected to see Castiel make.
“What happened, Cas?” Dean asked as they waited for the bleeding to stop. “How come your angel healing mojo isn’t kicking in?”
“I was careless. One of my sisters caught up to me.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Another angel did this?”
Cas met his startled look with a steady stare. “All the angels have been ordered to kill me on sight.”
Neither of the brothers knew what to say to that.
“So your mojo doesn’t work on injuries made by other angels?” Dean said after a pause.
“Only wounds that have been dealt by an angel’s blade,” Castiel replied. “The blade pierces not only the body of our vessels but our true forms as well.”
Dean remembered seeing Cas wielding one of those short silver blades as he was forced to kill two of his brothers. He also remembered noting exactly where the blade had been thrust into the others angels in order to kill them. Glancing back down at Cas’ wounds, now covered by the blood stained towel, Dean realized exactly how close Castiel had come to dying just like them in a brief flash of light and he swallowed convulsively.
“Did you kill her?” he asked, only realizing after he’d said it that it probably wasn’t the best question to ask.
Gazing at the ground, Cas didn’t answer, but the look on his face was enough.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam quietly.
The angel remained silent.
After a few more minutes, Dean carefully peeled the towel away from the wounds and decided the bleeding had stopped enough for them to start stitching. “Grab the whiskey,” he told his brother.
“Can angels even get infections?” Sam questioned as he fetched the needed bottle from Dean’s duffle.
Castiel didn’t offer to enlighten them so Dean shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” He took the whiskey and unscrewed the cap. “This is going to sting,” he warned Cas.
The angel nodded.
Dean wasn’t surprised this time when Cas flinched from the pain or even when he gasped. He was surprised however when the lights suddenly flickered and sparks came from the television.
“Um, Cas,” said Dean glancing around slightly nervous. “Was that you?”
“Sorry.” The angel managed to look mildly sheepish.
The Winchesters exchanged looks. It was a sharp reminder that even though Cas was injured, he still definitely wasn’t human.
“’S alright. Just try not to blow anything up. I’d really rather not have to explain that to the owner.”
Once the wounds were clean, the brothers began stitching. Sam took the back and Dean the front doing both at once in order to get things over quickly. Cas remained quiet throughout, but Dean could tell from the tension in his shoulders that even with the painkillers, the angel was still feeling a significant amount of pain. Dean was glad that though the wound was deep, it wasn’t too long so it didn’t require too many stitches. When they finished, Dean wrapped some gauze around the shoulder and taped it into place.
“All done,” he said letting out a sigh of relief.
Castiel immediately tried to get up only to find his legs would no longer support him.
“Whoa,” exclaimed Dean as the brothers steadied the wobbly angel before he fell over. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You said you were done,” replied Cas frowning. “I should leave.”
“We’re done patching you up, but you still need to take it easy for awhile,” Sam explained. “You lost a lot of blood.”
They lowered the angel back down until he was seated on the bed once more. He continued to sway even then. His normally intense eyes were becoming cloudy and his complexion had become even paler. Dean had a bad feeling. He reached out placing the back of his hand against Cas’ cheek. The skin was clammy and much too cool.
“Not good.”
Sam imitated the movement and frowned. “He’s going into shock.”
Dean put a hand on the angel’s good shoulder. “You are not going anywhere.”
He expected a protest, but all the energy seemed to have left Castiel. It felt like they were caring for a sleepy child as they removed his shoes and settled him into the bed. He remained quiet and still as they piled all the blankets on top of him and used a pillow to prop up his feet.
“You still with us, Cas,” Dean asked as he tucked him in.
The angel’s head nodded imperceptibly. “I feel…” Cas’ lips moved silently for a moment in dazed uncertainty. “I feel… unwell,” he finally concluded.
Dean snorted. “I’m not surprised. A good portion of your blood is currently decorating your trench coat. Exactly how long did you stand around bleeding before you decided to call?”
“I was uncertain as to whether or not the bleeding would stop on its own.”
“Remind me to give you a few lessons on basic first aid,” replied Dean rolling his eyes. He noticed that the angel’s eyes were beginning to droop. “But I’ll save them for later. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
“I don’t sleep,” Castiel mumbled his eyes already closed.
“Sure. Try telling me that again in two minutes.”
But Cas’ made no reply, his breathing already settled into an even rhythm.
Dean pressed two fingers to the pulse point in Castiel’s neck and rested his other hand against his forehead. He was relieved to find that Cas already felt a little warmer. Taking a step back, Dean let himself collapse onto the edge of the other bed, his exhaustion returning as everything caught up with him. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the sleeping angel.
Eventually, a hand on his shoulder made him look up. Sam was gazing down at him with a look of sympathy but there was a slight teasing glint in his eyes as well.
“Lay off,” Dean said shrugging off the hand and trying to re-establish his macho manner. “It’s not like you haven’t done the same for me or me for you.”
“I know.” Sam gave him a warm smile. “He’s going to be alright,” he said.
“Of course he is. This is Castiel. He’s like us. Not even death can keep him down,” replied Dean rubbing his forehead worriedly even as he said it.
“I can watch him for awhile if you’d like to get some sleep.”
“No. No, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying up,” Dean said eyes still on his injured friend. Suddenly, sleep didn’t seem so important anymore.
Title: Time for Care and Time for Sleep
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG for blood and swearing
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2384
Spoilers: Up to 5x04
Summary: Castiel interrupts Dean's sleep but he has a very good reason.
By Daylight
The motel room had pea soup green walls and mud brown carpets. One of the lamps was missing, the chairs were mismatched and the table tilted at an odd angle as if two of the legs were shorter than the others. It also smelt significantly of rotting fruit, but Dean didn’t notice any of that. Dean didn’t notice the cracks in the ceiling, the odd yellowish stains, or the cockroaches crawling in the corners. All Dean saw when he opened the door were the beds.
He made straight for the closest one, dumping his duffle and falling face first into the pillow. The mattress was hard, the covers were stiff and starchy, and the sheets smelt of mildew, but he didn’t care. He was too busy revelling in the blissful sensation of being able to lie down and no longer carry his heavy weight on his tired feet.
Dimly he heard the sound of Sam entering, shutting the door and letting his own bag fall to the floor. Footsteps made their way passed him and the other bed creaked as Sam sat down. The younger Winchester let out a long tired sigh. Dean wanted to make a comment about how wimpy and girly it sounded, but all he managed was a grunt. Soon, he felt himself drifting off, sensations dimming as he passed into sleep, but a noise suddenly brought him back to consciousness or at least it tired to.
“Dean, your phone’s ringing.”
“No, it isn’t,” Dean mumbled into his pillow even as the cell continued to play its little tune.
“Do you want me to answer it?”
“No.”
“It might be important,” Sam pointed out already getting up and reaching for the pocket of the coat Dean was still wearing.
Dean slapped his brother’s hand away. “Paws off,” he grumbled, but it was too late. He was awake now and he got the feeling neither the phone nor his brother was going to leave him alone any time soon. So letting out his own sigh, he rolled over and pulled out the cell. “What?” he growled into it.
“Dean,” greeted the voice of Castiel.
The elder Winchester groaned. Cas’ voice was the last he wanted to hear. The angel might be his friend, but he never actually called with anything good. It was always demon this and apocalypse that. Just for once he’d like for Cas to call him up to invite him out for drinks or down to a strip club or something. Not that that was very likely considering the angel’s general attitude to such things, but he could still dream.
“I need your help. Where are you?”
It seemed he would have to keep dreaming.
“No. No. No. No,” Dean repeated hoping that would help it sink in.
“Dean…”
He was really getting irritated by the way people kept saying his name like that. Glancing over at his brother, he saw Sam shrug indicating the decision was up to him, but he could tell from Sam’s slumped posture and worn out expression that he wasn’t ready for another hunt so soon either.
“No. We’re not up for God hunting or demon hunting or Colt hunting right now,” Dean declared. “It’s sleep time, Cas. Call me in 24 hours and I might consider it, but no sooner.”
“This doesn’t concern that and I don’t believe it can wait.”
“Then what is it?”
“I… I need your help.”
There was a catch in the angel’s voice, a rare show of emotion, something that made Dean’s guts twist and every one of his instincts tell him to sit up and take notice. They fought against his desire for peace and sleep, and finally won. Moaning, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Myrtle Creek, Oregon, the Slumberville Motel, room 11.”
The line was immediately disconnected. Dean put the phone away and threw an arm over his face already regretting his decision. There was a silent pause, just long enough for Dean to begin wondering why Cas hadn’t appeared instantly like he usually did, before he heard the announcing flutter of wings. He stayed lying there almost drifting back into sleep and hoping vainly that he might somehow be able to help from the comfort of bed when he heard two things that spiked enough adrenaline to bring him instantly to his feet.
The first was his brother swearing in a way that set all of Dean’s nerves on edge.
“Shit…”
The second was what Cas said in response.
“It won’t stop bleeding.”
Dean was standing before he’d even fully processed what the angel had said. Castiel stood stiffly at the far end of the room. The normally unchanging appearance of the angel was marred by a large trail of blood coming from his shoulder and covering the entire right side of his trench coat. The expression on his pale face was one of mild concern mixed with some confusion and possibly even a little fear. It seemed very inconsistent with the enormity of his injury, but for Cas showing that much emotion was the equivalent of full on panic.
“Shit,” said Dean mimicking his brother.
Sam was ahead of him already reaching the angel and yanking him over to the end of his bed. He removed the bloody trench coat and forced Cas to sit down. Years spent patching each other up after hunts gone wrong set in and they went into automatic mode. Dean grabbed a towel from the bathroom as Sam quickly removed Cas’ jacket, tie and shirt. Castiel offered no resistance or help, letting himself be manipulated and watching with a slightly perplexed expression which would have been funny if things hadn’t been so dire.
“Crap,” said Dean swearing again when he finally got a good look at the large hole in Cas’ shoulder.
“It goes all the way through,” Sam informed him as he pulled out the first aid kit.
Dean shook his head resisting the urge to swear a third time as he glanced at Cas’ back and saw the exit wound he’d missed before. Taking the towel, he pressed it firmly against both of the sluggishly leaking holes. Cas winced and tried to flinch away, but the brothers held him still. The reaction surprised Dean. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten the impression that angels didn’t actually feel pain. He could clearly recall Castiel not even blinking when he’d stabbed him the day they’d first met. Obviously from Cas’ response, it wasn’t true. He could now recognize the lines of pain around Cas’ eyes and he really didn’t like seeing them there.
While Dean kept pressure on the wounds, Sam went over to the sink and filled an old plastic bottle with water. He brought it back and handed it to the angel. “Here. You need to replace the fluids you lost.”
Cas stared at it presumably not used to the necessity of filling such a human need, but after a moment, he obediently drank. Sam dug through the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of pills. Shaking two into the palm of his hand, he offered them to Castiel. Cas just looked at them in confusing.
“They’re painkillers,” Sam explained.
An image flashed through Dean’s mind of Castiel popping pills with a half-mad grin on his face and a broken look in his eyes, and he found himself fighting the urge to knock the pills out of Sam’s hand.
Cas took the pills and placed them in his mouth.
“Swallow. Don’t chew,” Sam said quickly as he handed him back the water.
The angel managed to swallow the pills pulling a face as he did so. Dean added it to the expressions he’d never expected to see Castiel make.
“What happened, Cas?” Dean asked as they waited for the bleeding to stop. “How come your angel healing mojo isn’t kicking in?”
“I was careless. One of my sisters caught up to me.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Another angel did this?”
Cas met his startled look with a steady stare. “All the angels have been ordered to kill me on sight.”
Neither of the brothers knew what to say to that.
“So your mojo doesn’t work on injuries made by other angels?” Dean said after a pause.
“Only wounds that have been dealt by an angel’s blade,” Castiel replied. “The blade pierces not only the body of our vessels but our true forms as well.”
Dean remembered seeing Cas wielding one of those short silver blades as he was forced to kill two of his brothers. He also remembered noting exactly where the blade had been thrust into the others angels in order to kill them. Glancing back down at Cas’ wounds, now covered by the blood stained towel, Dean realized exactly how close Castiel had come to dying just like them in a brief flash of light and he swallowed convulsively.
“Did you kill her?” he asked, only realizing after he’d said it that it probably wasn’t the best question to ask.
Gazing at the ground, Cas didn’t answer, but the look on his face was enough.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam quietly.
The angel remained silent.
After a few more minutes, Dean carefully peeled the towel away from the wounds and decided the bleeding had stopped enough for them to start stitching. “Grab the whiskey,” he told his brother.
“Can angels even get infections?” Sam questioned as he fetched the needed bottle from Dean’s duffle.
Castiel didn’t offer to enlighten them so Dean shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” He took the whiskey and unscrewed the cap. “This is going to sting,” he warned Cas.
The angel nodded.
Dean wasn’t surprised this time when Cas flinched from the pain or even when he gasped. He was surprised however when the lights suddenly flickered and sparks came from the television.
“Um, Cas,” said Dean glancing around slightly nervous. “Was that you?”
“Sorry.” The angel managed to look mildly sheepish.
The Winchesters exchanged looks. It was a sharp reminder that even though Cas was injured, he still definitely wasn’t human.
“’S alright. Just try not to blow anything up. I’d really rather not have to explain that to the owner.”
Once the wounds were clean, the brothers began stitching. Sam took the back and Dean the front doing both at once in order to get things over quickly. Cas remained quiet throughout, but Dean could tell from the tension in his shoulders that even with the painkillers, the angel was still feeling a significant amount of pain. Dean was glad that though the wound was deep, it wasn’t too long so it didn’t require too many stitches. When they finished, Dean wrapped some gauze around the shoulder and taped it into place.
“All done,” he said letting out a sigh of relief.
Castiel immediately tried to get up only to find his legs would no longer support him.
“Whoa,” exclaimed Dean as the brothers steadied the wobbly angel before he fell over. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You said you were done,” replied Cas frowning. “I should leave.”
“We’re done patching you up, but you still need to take it easy for awhile,” Sam explained. “You lost a lot of blood.”
They lowered the angel back down until he was seated on the bed once more. He continued to sway even then. His normally intense eyes were becoming cloudy and his complexion had become even paler. Dean had a bad feeling. He reached out placing the back of his hand against Cas’ cheek. The skin was clammy and much too cool.
“Not good.”
Sam imitated the movement and frowned. “He’s going into shock.”
Dean put a hand on the angel’s good shoulder. “You are not going anywhere.”
He expected a protest, but all the energy seemed to have left Castiel. It felt like they were caring for a sleepy child as they removed his shoes and settled him into the bed. He remained quiet and still as they piled all the blankets on top of him and used a pillow to prop up his feet.
“You still with us, Cas,” Dean asked as he tucked him in.
The angel’s head nodded imperceptibly. “I feel…” Cas’ lips moved silently for a moment in dazed uncertainty. “I feel… unwell,” he finally concluded.
Dean snorted. “I’m not surprised. A good portion of your blood is currently decorating your trench coat. Exactly how long did you stand around bleeding before you decided to call?”
“I was uncertain as to whether or not the bleeding would stop on its own.”
“Remind me to give you a few lessons on basic first aid,” replied Dean rolling his eyes. He noticed that the angel’s eyes were beginning to droop. “But I’ll save them for later. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
“I don’t sleep,” Castiel mumbled his eyes already closed.
“Sure. Try telling me that again in two minutes.”
But Cas’ made no reply, his breathing already settled into an even rhythm.
Dean pressed two fingers to the pulse point in Castiel’s neck and rested his other hand against his forehead. He was relieved to find that Cas already felt a little warmer. Taking a step back, Dean let himself collapse onto the edge of the other bed, his exhaustion returning as everything caught up with him. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the sleeping angel.
Eventually, a hand on his shoulder made him look up. Sam was gazing down at him with a look of sympathy but there was a slight teasing glint in his eyes as well.
“Lay off,” Dean said shrugging off the hand and trying to re-establish his macho manner. “It’s not like you haven’t done the same for me or me for you.”
“I know.” Sam gave him a warm smile. “He’s going to be alright,” he said.
“Of course he is. This is Castiel. He’s like us. Not even death can keep him down,” replied Dean rubbing his forehead worriedly even as he said it.
“I can watch him for awhile if you’d like to get some sleep.”
“No. No, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying up,” Dean said eyes still on his injured friend. Suddenly, sleep didn’t seem so important anymore.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 02:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 02:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 02:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 02:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 03:02 am (UTC)Love Castiel's otherworldliness even while he's in pain, and Dean and Sam's ability to help without a fuss. I also loved that you used an angelic blade to wound him; I have a hard time imagining much of anything else actually putting a lasting scratch on an angel, even an exiled one.
Thanks for the awesome!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 03:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 03:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 03:29 am (UTC)Thanks for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 04:02 am (UTC)time for care/time for sleep
Date: 2009-11-11 04:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 05:58 am (UTC)And Sam and Dean working together to patch him up was pretty cute, too.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 06:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 08:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 08:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 09:17 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 11:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 12:09 pm (UTC)Thanks!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-11 03:48 pm (UTC)Thanks a lot for this, it's been a real bright spot in my day :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-13 10:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 04:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 01:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-17 12:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-22 11:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-12 04:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-12 04:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-09 04:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-18 02:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-09-03 11:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-09-29 12:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-09-29 12:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-12 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-14 02:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-01 06:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-02 08:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 04:34 am (UTC)