This story was written for this year's SPN-J2 BigBang over on LiveJournal.

I had the honour of working with the very talented Wataru_Kisugi,
her art for this story can be viewed here.

.

WARNINGS:Wincest, implied depression, angst


It had seemed so simple, so easy. A routine job, just like hundreds of hunts before it. The blinking of an eye, that was all the time needed for everything to go to hell. Not enough time for Sam to react, to do something. One small, stupid inconsistency, that was all it took to change their lives forever.

oo00oo00oo

They were pretty familiar with the legends and tales of the banshee of the South-Dakota Badlands. With Bobby living so close to it, how could they not have. They never paid any attention to it, it was just that, a story. No disappearances or killings aside from a few lost hikers, but that's all they ever really were, lost. Nothing that ever pointed towards anything supernatural. Until now.

Several hikers and even an entire family had disappeared while visiting the Badlands National Park, always in the area of Watch Dog Buttle, where the hill the so called banshee resided stood. Too much of a coincidence for the boys, a belief that was only strengthened when over a dozen of visitors reported having heard long, shrill wailing. One or two even swore that they had seen a figure dressed in white, long hair whipping around its head in a non-existent breeze. No doubt about that. The rumoured banshee had taken up her title.

It was an easy enough hunt. The fact that she grabbed her victims near the hill she was rumoured to live on made figuring out which exact spot she was bound to very easy. They just so happened to have a book on Irish mythology, one that had a very large and thorough part on banshees. Sam had been drooling over the book ever since he had seen it at Bobby's and when he stumbled on it inside a very small and very old second-hand bookstore, very much hidden between all the other, newer and fancier stores in the street, he had been ecstatic for days.

It took them a few days to get their hands on all the materials they would need for the ritual, they weren't exactly of the kind they could just have with them wherever they went. They had to be fresh and several things had to be specifically bound to the location of the banshee.

Sam must have studied the ritual a thousand times. Sure, Dean realized he was probably exaggerating but whatever. He was certain Sam wouldn't need the book to do it but when they left for the park, he still took it with him.

The ride there was filled with idle chit-chat, just like any other hunt when they weren't rushing somewhere and Dean was breaking most traffic laws to get there. The sun was starting to get low in the sky. They had decided to go in a bit after closing time so they wouldn't have to deal with tourists or anyone working there. They'd have enough time to get most of the way towards the rock before it was completely dark.

At the local library Sam had printed out several maps of the park. Despite Dean's complaints he had then circled the hill with a red pen and had tried his best to find the quickest and evenest way through the uneven area. Dean just kept right on grumbling and complaining that they didn't need a map, that he'd be able to find the hill just fine by himself. Sam really wanted to see him try and get lost. He could already hear the 'I told you so.'

Dean parked the Impala on the edge of the park closest to the hill. Sam checked the duffle one last time, making sure he had everything before grabbing his shot gun just like Dean. They both loaded the guns with salt rounds before stuffing their jacket pockets with them as well. Banshees were a type of ghost so salt should keep her away should she come at them while they were still setting up. Sam would do the ritual and Dean would make sure she wouldn't lay a single, translucent finger on his brother.

Getting in wasn't much of a problem. As Sam took out his maps Dean took a look at his watch. If everything went according to plan, they might be able to go and grab a beer after all this was over.

They walked in silence most of the time. Sometimes Sam would point out some special plant or Dean would comment on how dull the park was. Why would people want to drive to specific places like these just to look at some plants and stones all day and walk till their feel fell off? Sam just shrugged, saying that it can be very relaxing.

Not long after it was getting too dark to really see where they were going so they got out the torches. Not much later Sam nudged Dean's shoulder to point out the hill to him. When they were about halfway up the hill they sat themselves down for a few minutes. When they reached the top they would need to be alert and work as quick as possible. Spirits had the tendency to show up right when they were about to be killed. He told Sam this, smiling. Sam smiled back just a little before telling him that, technically, you couldn't kill something that was already dead. Fine then, banished, or whatever spirits were when they lost their spiritness.

The sky was littered with stars of all intensities. Some glowed bright like lights in the distance or a whole swarm of fireflies, while other seemed to be nothing more than stardust that had been strewn al thorough the universe, barely giving off any light. For several moments the brothers were captivated by the glowing canvas above their heads. Sure, they often saw the stars at night, when they were driving or hunting, but here, out in the open, no outside source of light, no noise besides their own breathing to fill the air. It was something different, something magical neither of them had ever really thought about, had never appreciated enough. Sure, Sam knew all the constellations and could recognize then without a second though, he had done so often back at Stanford, with Jess, but this was different. Sitting here, next to his brother, on a hunt and watching the stars. It was something he'd never pictured himself doing after he left.

A soft autumn breeze danced on their faces and through their hair, making the long grass rustle and whisper. Realizing that they had sat there for far too long Sam and Dean got up and continued on their way. After that it didn't take them very long to reach the top. The breeze was stronger here but Sam managed to find a spot that was flat and lay just a little deeper than the rest, protecting it from the wind. Sam made quick work of emptying his duffle. With a nod to Dean he started laying down the foundations for the ritual.

With a place like this, open on all sides Dean couldn't exactly stay in one place to look out for the banshee. With his gun at the ready Dean started circling the top of the hill, each circle a little bigger than the previous one but not so big that he was out of shooting range from Sam. The slope of the hill was as far as he went, or at least, that's what he intended until he heard something rustling in the bushes. Turning around he took one good look at Sam, he had his shotgun lying next to him and there was no banshee is sight.

The slope was steep and dry, causing stones and dirt to glide down. More jumping and sliding than walking Dean got to a flatter part, the one with the bushes. He pushed the leaves and branches with his gun as he kept his eyes open for any sudden movement. A flash of white caught his attention but before he could even lift the gun it was gone again. Grinning he went into the direction he saw it disappear. If it was here that meant he could keep it occupied until Sam finished with the ritual. It was a pretty simple one, really, and he knew that Sam would be able to get it over with real quick once everything was set up. A simple incantation and burning of some herbs and other stuff mixed with the soil from the hill to free her spirit from this place. Piece of cake for them.

He saw a few more flashes of white but always did they disappear before he could shoot it. Too focussed on distracting and hopefully shooting the bitch Dean didn't notice she was leading him farther and farther away from Sam. He didn't notice the soft singing either. The banshee had chosen him as her next victim.

Dean's grin grew when he saw her standing still inside a circle of trees. The banshee's hair swirled around her almost as if she were underwater, dark tendrils reaching out. Her torn, white dress fluttered around her legs, contrasting with her copper skin. She smiled at him, placing one foot in front of the other.

The singing in Dean's head intensified as he stood there, frozen in place. He wanted nothing more than to lift his gun and shoot her but he found that he couldn't. Her lips didn't move as the song kept growing in intensity and it was then that Dean realize how stupid he had been. She had taken him as her next victim. 'please Sam, please, anytime now, come on, hurry, I'm about to die here Sammy, HURRY!' He chanted inside his head, willing Sam to hurry up and finish the ritual already. She had now gotten so close that if she wanted she could have touched him but she didn't. She just kept on smiling. Her song had grown into a deafening crescendo when she suddenly pulled back, surprise followed by fury on her face.

Dean could see her form fraying at the edges, watched her fall apart like fog in a breeze. The song inside his head fell silent and just when he thought he was safe, that Sam had been on time and had saved him she let out a scream that caused the ground underneath Dean's feet to vibrate, the trees to shudder and the bushes to lose half their leaves. He tried to bring his hands up to cover his ears but he found himself still paralyzed. When she was finally gone Dean stumbled with the sudden feeling of being able to move again.

With the uneven and treacherous ground underneath his feet he tripped and knocked himself out against a protruding piece of rock. The slope of the hill caused him to collide with a few bushes and smaller trees before coming to a halt against a broader one. If the rock wouldn't have knocked him out the impact from his head against the tree would have surely done it.

Sam looked at the small fire with satisfaction before he heard the ear-splitting scream. Quickly covering his ears he tried to block out as much of the sound as possible before looking around. When the sound stopped Sam dropped his hands and picked up his shotgun. He knew Dean would make sure the banshee wouldn't sneak up on him but the fact that he didn't see him had him worried.

"Dean" He yelled. Nothing. He tried yelling his brother's name a few more times as he ran towards the side of the hill the sound had come from. Reaching the edge he saw skid marks in the light of his torch, just a few feet from where he was standing. He followed them down the slope until he reached the spot where Dean had first glimpsed the banshee.

Yelling Dean's name several more times the tried to track Dean's footprints. It wasn't all that easy; the loose dirt quickly covered the disturbed places, making it harder for Sam than it already would've been in the dark. Not impossible, just harder. He was determined to find his brother and if there was something Winchesters had to the extremes, it was determination.

It was purely by chance that Sam found the clearing the banshee had lured Dean to. When he spotted him, Sam almost tripped as well he was so eager to get to his brother. Falling to his knees next to him he dropped his torch and shotgun to the ground without care. The only thing he saw right now was his brother and the fact that he was hurt. "Dean." He whispered, reaching out to cup one cheek real quick before hovering his palm above his mouth and on his chest to ensure he was still alive. Satisfied with the result he grabbed his torch to take a better look at Dean's injuries. Blood was dripping from his ears, the back of his head was wet with blood and a cut just underneath his hairline was dripping into one of his eyes.

Sam pulled out one of his shirt sleeves from under his jacket and, pulling it over his hand, wiped the blood out of Dean's eye. Just as he was doing so Dean stirred. He quickly removed his hand as he watched Dean come by. Dean just stared at him for a few moments before squinting. "Sammy?"

Sam nodded before putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Yeah, it's me."

Dean frowned and blinked a few times before shaking his head. This caused him to close his eyes with a pained expression and bring a hand towards his head. It was a little clumsy but he managed. When he felt the wetness on his face he lowered his hand to look at the blood. "My head hurts, Sammy. Bad." His voice croaked and his words were a little slurred and seemed to come from somewhere far away.

"I know, Dean, I know. You hit your head. Twice I think."

This seemed to make Dean frown even more. "I can't hear you."

Sam looked at him for a few moments after that. He still had a buzzing going on in his ears from when the banshee let out her last wail. Judging from Dean's location he must have been quite a bit closer to her than he had been. As Sam just sat there, thinking, Dean had started to pull himself up by the tree. Sam quickly rushed forward to grab his arms and steady him. When he finally got to his feet Dean simply stood there, swaying and leaning more on Sam than his own legs. His eyes went wide and he quickly turned away from Sam a bit and placed an arm against the tree to prevent himself from falling over as he started to vomit. Sam just held him, softly rubbing his back. He was pretty certain Dean had a concussion. When he was sure Dean was done vomiting he let him lean against the tree while he looked for Dean's shotgun and torch and picked up his own gun as well.

They'd have to get back to the top of the hill first to pick up their stuff before they could get Dean to a hospital. He was contemplating whether he should leave Dean here while he picked up the stuff or if he should take him when he thought of something. He quickly dug out his phone and started typing. Sure, Dean may not hear at the moment but he could read, or so Sam hoped. It depended on how well he could focus because of the concussion. It was worth a try, though. Having typed the question out he held it in front of Dean.

Dean squinted a bit and grabbed Sam's hand to bring it closer but he finally let go and said: "I'll come." He may feel like shit but Dean was not going to let Sam think he was a pussy, concussion or not.

With Dean's arm around his shoulders they managed to get back to the top of the hill. Sam quickly put everything into the duffle while Dean sat on the side. In under two minutes Dean was being hoisted up again and dragging his feet as they descended the hill. Sam could feel an ache settle in his back what with Dean being smaller than him so he had to walk at a bit of an angle, slightly slumped forwards. They had to stop several times because Dean felt too dizzy or he had to throw up again. The sky was just starting to pale on the horizon when they reached the Impala.

Sam carefully placed Dean into the passenger's seat, giving him the rag he had found in the duffle and had used to dab at Dean's injuries. The one on the side of his head had stopped bleeding, as had his ears, but the one on the back of his head had only slowed, not stopped. He needed to get Dean to a hospital as quick as possible, and not just because of the concussion. His bleeding ears and the fact that he couldn't hear anything worried him.

The entire ride to the hospital Sam kept an eye on Dean, shaking his shoulder whenever he noticed him falling asleep. When they finally reached the hospital Sam let out a sigh of relief. They were at the hospital, the doctors would take care of Dean and fix him right up. Everything would be fine, Dean was strong.

There were only two other people in the emergency unit when they arrived. Sam hadn't exactly thought about what to say when they would ask what happened. He couldn't exactly tell them they had gone after a banshee so he told them some half-assed story about how they had gone hiking the previous day and had gotten lost and separated. When he found Dean he had been unconscious and hurt. When a nurse returned with a pad of paper and asked Dean what had happened he just shrugged, saying he didn't remember.

Sam was quickly ushered into an empty waiting room while they took Dean with them to run a shit load of tests. Hours passed by and Sam just sat there, hoping there wasn't any permanent damage to Dean's hearing. A hunter needed his ears as much as his eyes, even more in some cases. What you see isn't exactly always what you get, not in their line of work.

Other people entered the room before leaving again after a while. Once a nurse came in to tell him that Dean definitely had a concussion, a pretty bad one at that. When he asked her about his hearing she just shrugged, said they were still running tests. She didn't know when all the testing would be over either so he just nodded and she left. It seemed like forever until Sam decided to get himself a cup of coffee. It was something to do, something to occupy his mind, even if only for a short while. He didn't lie to himself. Their job was dangerous and they both knew that, but still, the thought that there was a very real chance that Dean would suffer from life-long consequences hit him hard. Dean would probably shrug it off, no, would definitely do so. He'd say there was nothing wrong and not to worry, Sammy.

Dean's tough. Tough as nails, tougher than anyone Sam had ever known, but he also knew that any sort of inability, anything to compromise his skills as a hunter, no matter how small, would gnaw at him. Gnaw and chip until there was nothing left. He'd already taken on too much responsibility, always has, always will, it's just who he is. But this would break him. The thoughts and realization that he's not good enough. Not good enough to protect his baby brother and shoulder all of the world's suffering like he always did.

His hands were shaking and he fumbled with his money and then the paper cup of coffee. Why was it taking so long? Was it supposed to take so long? He had only just made it back to his seat when a doctor came in looking for him. "Is he alright?" Were the first words that tumbled out of his mouth. The doctor gave him a small smile that was supposed to be reassuring before answering. "He will be. Now if you'd please come with me."

Relief washed over Sam as he heard those first words but a stone of fear quickly took its place and settled cold and hard in his stomach at the next. "Of course." Sam dumped his untouched cup of coffee into the trash before following the doctor out of the waiting room. Inside the empty hallway the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Coleman before telling Sam that Dean was suffering from a pretty bad concussion so they'd like to keep him for a few days, to monitor his condition. Sam nodded but really just wanted to know about Dean's hearing. He was getting twitchy and was wringing his hands. He knew it was rude but he just really needed to know.

"What about his hearing?" Dr. Coleman stopped mid-sentence and just looked at Sam for a moment before taking a deep breath. That combined with his body language and slightly hardened expression told Sam all he really needed to know.

"We...can't seem to be able to determine exactly what happened. I've never seen a case like this. The hair cells in his inner ear are gone, all of them, at the same time. Both eardrums are completely ruptured and he may or may not have sustained damage to any of the organs that make up the inner ear. We'll have to wait until he recovers from his concussion so we can figure out if his balancing problems are simply symptoms of his concussion or not." Dr. Coleman continued talking but Sam tuned him out. Damage to the hair cells, he knew what that meant, he told Dean every time he turned up his music way too loud. Now he won't be able to hear the music ever again. "-permanent damage. He'll never hear again." Those were the last words Sam heard and they broke his heart, absolutely shattered it. Dean, his big brother who cared for him, always looked after him, deaf.

Sam fixed his gaze back on Dr. Coleman and gave him a smile he didn't feel while excusing himself. Dr. Coleman nodded, saying, "Of course." before walking away and disappearing through one of the many white doors. Sam stood there for a moment, frozen in place while his brain was still trying to catch up and process everything he had been told. Snapping out of it Sam started walking, face devoid of any emotion. He quickly found the big sliding doors they had entered through and walked outside and towards the Impala. The keys jangled lightly as he took them from his pocket, hands shaking. It took him several tries and while he tried his hardest not to damage the paintjob, he was shaking so bad, before he realized he hadn't locked the car.

Once he managed to get inside he could feel himself fall apart. After him dying and Dean making a deal to bring him back, resulting in him going to hell and then the whole thing with the angels and the impending apocalypse they thought they had survived the worst. Nothing could possibly be as bad as that. Sam would never admit it but deep down he was glad Heaven and Hell had been at each other's throats, seeing as without it they would have never sent in Castiel to bring Dean back. Sure, their lives had been shit while they were preventing the seals from being broken, chasing horsemen, preventing angles from stealing their bodies and coming face to face with the devil.

Sam still thought it was all worth it to have Dean back. After all the shit and drama the solution had been very simple. So simple it was absolutely ridiculous. Lucifer still loved Michael, even after being thrown into the cage all he really wanted was for him to understand why he had done it. Michael still loved Lucifer and felt guilty about what he had done even if it was the right thing according to God. He didn't want to fight his brother, he just had to because that was what God expected from him. After playing messenger between the two and telling them about how the other felt and thought did the trick. Lucifer managed to convince Michael - with some reluctant help from the Winchesters, they weren't exactly sure if it would work or was simply a way to get their bodies – that thinking for yourself wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

As much as he may look down on them Lucifer told Michael to look at the humans, they had free will and did things just for themselves, yet they were God's favourite creation. Still a bit reluctant Michael agreed and just like that the whole apocalypse was cancelled. All other angels had been called back upstairs as well after that. The angels taking sides and fighting against each other was not something Michael was looking forward to dealing with. Even if it was partially his fault.

After that they didn't meet anymore angels. Dean had then said that if he never saw an angel again it would be too soon. He kept bitching about how Michael and Lucifer should've just gotten on one of those relationship fixing talk shows or something instead of bothering them, for almost two months after and he still brought it up every once in a while.

All the things they had been through, all the things they had seen and none of it could compare to this. Demons, ghosts, vampires, gods and everything else they could handle, they knew how to kill. But something like this? There wasn't anything they could do. It was bad for Sam but infinitely worse for Dean. The things he knew how to do, he was good at, and he wouldn't be able to do that anymore. Not being able to hunt, to save people, to look after Sam, to Dean, that was no life. Dean thought he hid it well but Sam knew, could read him like a book. He knew Dean saw himself only as a hunter and a big brother, nothing else, and if he couldn't do either of those he was nothing. Sam knew that wasn't true, was convinced of it, but it didn't matter. Dean was the only one who needed to realise that, and he never would.

Sam closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before wiping away his tears. He got out of the Impala and back inside. The woman behind the desk wasn't the same as when he had checked Dean in. He cleared his throat to get her attention and asked after Dean Fawkes, his current alias. He really hoped they were done testing so he could just see Dean already. The woman checked her screen, clicking around a few times before telling him he was in room 521. Sam nodded and thanked her before heading towards the elevator. His mind was reeling as he waited for it and while he went up.

When he reached room 521 Sam took a deep breath before opening the door and going inside. He had absolutely no idea what state he would find Dean in. Dean didn't notice when Sam entered, didn't turn his head around to glance at him real quick like usual. The absence of something so small, something Sam never really realized until it was gone broke his heart. The way Dean was sitting there, in the chair right next to the window and was just staring outside, it was almost more than Sam could handle. Whatever happened to them, no matter what crazy shit the universe decided to throw their way, they always came out okay, even if it took a while. Sam knew that this time, it wouldn't be, couldn't be. He almost ran over towards Dean to throw his arms around him and hold him like he was the only thing left in the world. Wanted to apologize to him that, for all the times Dean had kept him safe, he couldn't to the same thing for him. He didn't though. He just walked over towards Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean's head quickly snapped around, not used to having someone being able to sneak up on him. It was instinct, reflexes created by years of hunting.

They just looked at each other for a moment. Usually Dean would have made some joke about Sam being overly emotional or that he cried because he was a girl, this time he just ignored Sam's puffy, red eyes and the tear tracks on his cheeks. Dean quickly turned back towards the window after a few more moments but Sam had seen the glint of wetness in his eyes.

He gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze. Dean lifted a hand as if to place it atop his brother's but seemed to change him mind halfway and let it fall in his lap. "I'll never hear again." He finally said, voice a little too loud and uneven at the edges. Sam almost broke down and started crying again right there and then. To prevent his knees from suddenly buckling and sending him sprawling towards the floor Sam drew up the second chair next to Dean's and sat down in it.

"Can we please go, Sammy? I don't want to be here anymore." Sam had never seen Dean quite as vulnerable and lost as he looked right now.

"Dean, we can't. The doctors-" Sam's voice died down as he realized his mistake. It was going to take a lot of getting used to. Gulping, he looked around the room but saw neither paper nor pen so he just took out his phone again. 'We can't. The doctor said they need to make sure your concussion doesn't worsen.' He tapped out before sliding it towards Dean.

"We've dealt with concussions before." Dean said, looking up from the phone and back outside. Despite his voice being slightly off due to the fact that Dean couldn't hear himself Sam could still hear the hurt in it clear as day.

Sighing he grabbed back his phone. He didn't know if Dean knew already or not but if not he felt bad for having to tell him. Being deaf was bad enough already. 'They need to make sure your problems balancing are because of the concussion, not damage to your inner ear.'

Dean was silent for several minutes after that. Sam guessed that the doctors hadn't wanted to say anything about it until they had run more tests and were sure of it. Sam went to squeeze Dean's shoulder again but Dean shrugged it off. "Could you…please leave, Sam. I need to be alone."

Sam understood. As much as he wanted to be with Dean he understood. If he still hadn't been able to completely wrap his mind around the fact that Dean was deaf, then how hard would it be for Dean to admit and accept it. He got up and picked up his phone, but before putting it away he quickly tapped out a last message. 'I'll be back tomorrow.' Dean nodded at that but didn't look at Sam. Resisting the urge to touch Dean's shoulder one last time Sam walked towards the door. He had it partially opened and right before he slipped through he turned around one more time. He had to avert his head and almost ran out of the room when he saw Dean's shoulders shake as he cried.

He made it to the Impala and drove to the motel on auto-pilot, all the while whishing banshees had a corporeal form instead of just a spectral one. He would have made the bitch suffer for what she did to his brother, as much as he knew Dean would.

When Sam entered their room he made straight for the bed closest to the door, Dean's bed, and fell down on it. The alarm clock on the nightstand showed him it was barely noon but he didn't care. He didn't know how long he lay there, drifting in and out of sleep and thinking when he was awake. There was a hollow in his chest. He should be happy, Dean was still with him, not dead or in Hell as he had been, but somehow, that only hurt more. This would change them, both of them, but Dean most of all. After everything they've been through, even Hell, Dean shouldered on and did his best to become the Dean he used to be again. This time he wouldn't be able to do so.

Thinking about it only made Sam feel worse but there was just no way he could stop. With a sigh he reached for his jacket that lay on the floor, he didn't even remember taking it off, and took out his phone. He opened up the contact list and scrolled down a bit, but didn't press the call button right away. After a few more moments he pressed it and held it to his ear, the dial tone overly loud.

For a moment Sam thought no one would pick up but just before it could go over to voicemail a familiar voice flooded over him. "Whaddaya idjits need this time, I'm kinda busy right now. You killed that banshee yet?"

Sam felt relief wash over him. No matter what happened, Bobby would always be there for them. "Yeah, we..euh..we killed it. It's just," Sam heard his voice break but he didn't care, he just needed to tell someone. Bobby didn't say anything, just hummed short and soft to let Sam know he was listening. Over the years he had learned when it was best to be silent and just listen and now was one of those moments. He could hear from Sam's voice that something had happened so he gave him the time he would needed to get it out. "It's Dean, he…euh…the banshee…when we killed it….she….euh…" Sam's voice faded away and turned into a sniffle.

"Sam?" Bobby prompted when Sam didn't continue. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. What happened to Dean, Sam?"

A few more moments of silence and Sam was crying again. "No, it's not Bobby, it won't be okay, it never can be. He's deaf, Bobby, completely, and there's nothing they can do." Sam could hear Bobby stumble on the other end of the line, probably getting to a chair and falling into it.

"Deaf? Completely? He can't hear a thing, at all?"

"No. Oh god, Bobby, what do I do?" Despair was evident in Sam's voice as he rubbed at his face, at the hot tears that spilled from his eyes. " This is all my fault."

"I don't believe that, Sam. You'd never let him get hurt, not intentionally, now tell me what happened." Bobby said.

Sam nodded even though Bobby couldn't see him. He took a few deep breaths to even out his quivering voice before starting. "I don't know what happened exactly but we were on the hill, and Dean was supposed to look out for her while I did the ritual. I guess he must have spotted her or something and have thought that if he distracted her I could complete the ritual. She…she must have lured him down the hill quite a bit because it took me a while to find him. When I finished with the ritual, she screamed, like, really screamed. My ears are still ringing, it's lessened but it's still there, and I was atop the hill. Dean, he was with her. I should've kept an eye on him, have prevented him from following her."

Bobby let out a sigh when Sam finished. "Sam, it's not your fault. You couldn't know that was what was going to happen. I've never heard of a banshee screaming like that, they usually just fade out. Now, you boys get your asses over here as soon as you can and we'll figure this out, okay?"

Sam felt a small smile creep up on his face, the first since he found Dean. "We will. He's still in the hospital right now, he's got a concussion and they need to see if his problems balancing are because of that or damage to his inner ear. Thanks Bobby."

"No problem, Sam." Static filling the line as Sam ended the call.

Still holding onto the phone Bobby ran a hand over his face as he sank deeper in the chair, trying to process everything Sam had just told him. He knew he'd do anything for those boys short of making another deal with a demon. Complete and permanent deafness. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd be able to do about it but that wouldn't stop him from trying. One thing he did know was that Dean was probably never going to hunt again. Good sensory abilities were just too important in their line of work.

For a while Sam just lay on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and phone still in hand, even after almost two hours. The only reason Sam got up at all was because he became aware of the painful gnawing in his stomach, and only because it rumbled loud enough to snap him out of his daze. He still took the Impala's keys with him but didn't take the car. He thought maybe the crisp, cool autumn air might clear his head. It did none of the sort, to be honest. It didn't clear his head as much as he just forced himself to notice and pay attention to every little detail, no matter how stupid or useless, on the road to the store.

He bought some pre-packaged sandwiches, several bottles of water and some whiskey. He wasn't really sure how much Dean had left but he knew that he'd need a couple of drinks to get through this. When he went up to the check-out register he saw a display of candy bars and grabbed a couple for Dean. He distinctly remembered the other times Dean had been in a hospital, his biggest concern the food, always the food. This brought a hint of a smile on Sam's lips but it disappeared almost instantly. He quickly paid before returning to the motel.

As he passed the Impala in the parking lot he opened up the trunk and took out the duffle they had taken with them to banish the banshee.

Back in the room he turned the bag upside down, letting everything fall on his bed before grabbing the book as well as some of the others that lay strewn around the room and his laptop. With those books spread out over the tiny, rickety motel room table he opened up his sandwich and poured himself a glass of whiskey. If there was nothing they could do, if Dean was going to stay deaf forever it wouldn't be for lack of trying on his part.

Sam had no idea where the sudden motivation, maybe even an inkling of hope came from, just that if there was anything to find on the subject, he would find it. Dean had been strong for him for as long as he could remember, now it was his turn to return the favour.