Rated: T
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money from this.
Dean gets struck with a curse that reveals his insecurity.
Part 1 of 2
Sam was already awake when the coughing started- discreetly scrolling through the revealing photo shoot of some actress whose films he'd never seen. He jumped a little, feeling guilty although technically he wasn't doing anything wrong. He glanced over at his brother's sleeping frame, jealous at Dean's ability to seemingly switch off his brain at night and immediately fall asleep.
The coughing persisted, and Sam was about to tell Dean to go and get a drink of water already, when he heard the squeak of rusty bedsprings as his brother scrambled into a sitting position flinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. Dean's face was bright red and his hands groped at his throat.
His brother was choking.
"Dean!"
Rushing across the room, Sam thumped at his brother's back, desperately trying to clear his airway. When that didn't work he pushed Dean to his feet and stood behind him, arms around his brother's waist. Thankful for the first aid course he'd taken in high school, he performed the Heimlich manoeuvre, sighing with relief as something small flew out of Dean's mouth and rolled along the filthy shag carpeting.
"What the hell was that?"
"I don't know…" Dean finally gasped, lying exhaustedly back down on the lumpy mattress. "I just woke up coughing, and then I couldn't breathe. Thanks Sammy, I owe you one."
Sam bent down and picked something up off the floor; small and white with two perfectly intact roots- a tooth, probably a back molar judging by its size.
"Holy shit, it's one of your teeth!"
"What?"
"Open your mouth. I can see a gap on the bottom left near the back, it's not even bleeding- it just looks like you never had a tooth there."
Dean shrugged, it was weird but he saw weird things everyday, and a missing tooth wasn't exactly supernatural.
"It's almost seven, why don't we get something to eat at Mom and Pop's and you can check the yellow pages for a dentist."
Dean shrugged again, but got up and pulled on his jeans and a shirt and followed Sam out the door.
"May I ask why you're still holding my tooth, Jumbo?" Dean asked when they entered the diner.
"I'm going to stick it in some milk to preserve it; maybe the dentist can reattach it."
"You are so weird."
After ordering two black coffees for themselves and a glass of two percent for the tooth, Sam started talking about a spirit in a Delaware Laundromat that had sucked three people into washing machines and sent them through the spin cycle.
"Maybe you can do a few loads when we get there, Sammy. You must be running out of tighty-whities by now."
Sam flipped him the bird and took a sip of caffeine. Their meals arrived a few minutes later, delivered with a smile by a kind faced older woman- likely 'Mom'.
They ate quietly for a while, enjoying the homey food and relaxed atmosphere of the diner. They knew their diners, seeing as they ate in them more often than not, and this was a good one- the food was hot and fresh, and refills on the coffee were free- unlike their last pit stop experience which had involved a very large fly embedded in a pancake, and a very disgusted Sam.
Dean had just swallowed another bite of scrambled eggs when he coughed and spit something into his napkin; wiping it off, he showed it to his brother.
"Another one? Dude, that can't be normal."
"Thanks Einstein, I wasn't sure if my teeth were supposed to fall out or not," Dean snarked, dropping it into the glass to join the other molar.
…
They were sitting in the Impala outside of a drop in dental clinic when Dean's two front teeth spontaneously fell into his lap. A minute later he spat out an eyetooth and three more molars.
There was some blood this time, so he packed his mouth with fast food napkins and put his seatbelt back on.
"If I go in there I'll end up as a case study in 'Anomalies of Modern Dentistry'- I don't need a dentist, I think this is more our kind of thing."
"So… back to the motel?" Sam guessed, as his brother gunned the engine and cranked up the music.
…
"Find anything?" Dean asked for the tenth time, calling out to his brother from the confines of the dirty motel bathroom.
"Unless you have a sudden onset case of scurvy, then no, but I think my plan of saving the teeth was wrong… all these tooth fairy legends basically say that if anything supernatural gets a hold of your pearly whites… well it's not good."
Dean came out of the bathroom and flopped back onto the bed by the desk where his brother was bent over his laptop.
"I guess you can add these to the salt and burn pile," Dean lisped, setting down a glass filled with at least a dozen more teeth.
"Shit, man. Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine, Sammy. Let's just fix this."
Sam spent the rest of the day clicking through site after site, following every link that even remotely applied to his brother's situation. At seven o'clock he switched off the computer, blinking against the eyestrain, and stood up from the little desk to stretch his legs.
Dean was looking through their dad's journal, a wet rag in his mouth to soothe his bleeding gums. A quartet of incisors had recently joined the other teeth in the glass, and he was feeling a bit depressed.
What if this is permanent?
He couldn't go around flapping his bare gums to witnesses and victims, lisping and spraying spit and undoubtedly disgusting everyone around him.
How could he go out in public with a freakish old man-baby mouth? Play mute? Was he going to have to invest in some dentures?
And what girl would fall for a toothless guy? His megawatt smile was his best feature, or so he'd been told, and his cockiness was part of his charm. How could he be confident like this?
But they would find an answer- they always did, so there was no point worrying about what ifs.
"C'mon man, I'm starved. Let's get something to eat," Sam said, interrupting his reverie.
…
"At least get a milkshake or something. You haven't eaten anything since this morning- you have to be a little hungry."
Dean was feigning a complete disinterest in eating, not even picking up the menu. Sam acknowledged he could have been a little more sensitive in his restaurant selection and not picked a steakhouse, but he was tired of greasy diner food and it wasn't like his brother could eat much at Mom and Pop's either.
"They have a chicken soup… or you could get a side of mashed potatoes."
"I'm not hungry, Sam. Let it go."
"I'll pick up some meal replacement shakes at the convenience store- to keep up your strength. I need you in peak condition so we can fix this," Sam babbled. He was trying to sound optimistic, but the day of researching had turned up no real leads and he was starting to feel a little discouraged.
"If we can fix this," Dean muttered, taking a drink of his beer and cursing when some of it dribbled out of his mouth.
…
The next morning Dean woke up, experiencing the brief joy of ignorance before his brain roared to life and the events of the previous day came flooding back. A quick slide of his tongue over mostly smooth gums confirmed that nothing had changed overnight, and he felt a little disappointed that this hadn't been a freak twenty-four hour type deal.
"How's the mouth?" Sam asked, peering at Dean from over his laptop.
His brother flashed him a nearly toothless grin, with a sarcastic 'thumbs up' thrown in for good measure.
"Okay… we just have to figure out what caused this, and we have to do it fast. The first forty eight hours are crucial."
Dean wrinkled his forehead incredulously.
"I'm not a missing child, Sammy."
"I know, but some spells have a time limit, and if they aren't reversed quickly…"
"If they aren't reversed quickly…?"
"They can be permanent," Sam said quietly.
Dean rummaged through his bag for some clean clothes, not meeting his brother's eye.
"Why don't you go grab something to eat- I'll be in the shower," Dean said in his I don't want to talk about it voice. "Then we can hit the library."
"Sure, man. I'll get you some eggs."
…
A week later they were no closer to finding any answers. Both brothers had taken turns pouring through their dad's journal, and looking through huge stacks of dusty volumes at the local library, not to mention Sam's nightly marathons on the laptop.
Dean barely ate or slept, lying awake at night listening to the clack of computer keys, his mind too full of questions and uncertainty to sleep. He refused to go out for meals, so Sam would bring takeout back to the room and try to get his brother to eat what Dean disdainfully referred to as 'mush'. Sam tried to keep their spirits up, but one-sided banter was sort of like dancing without music, so most of the time the room was silent.
Both boys were losing hope.
"We can't stay here much longer. The manager said our American Express and Visa have both been declined, and I couldn't exactly give him a card in another name. I say, we hit the road and start backtracking to all the places we were before this happened. Maybe we'll find a lead."
Dean nodded and started shoving clothes into his duffel. He was speaking less and less, communicating mainly through looks and gestures. Sam knew he was self conscious about his mouth, but the silence made the situation so much worse. He missed his cocky, pain in the ass brother more with each passing day.
They spent the next week backtracking; reliving the previous month of their life in reverse, revisiting case sites and looking for some seemingly insignificant detail that would turn everything around.
…
Dean's mood seems to improve. He starts talking again, it's just meaningless chatter about day to day stuff, but Sam is relieved at the return to a semblance of normalcy.
Dean's eating almost enough to satisfy Sam, and he even agrees to go out to the bar when his brother suggests it. They have a few rounds of beer, and play a couple games of darts, and for an hour or two it feels like old times. Then the bartender that's been making eyes at Dean all night gets off shift and comes and sits on the stool beside him.
She gazes at him over the edge of the glass as she sips her beer, licking her lips suggestively. Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything, his joints are well oiled by now and he's up for a little flirting.
They exchange cliché pickup lines for a while before she reaches in for a kiss. Dean thinks it's going to be a peck, but her tongue snakes into his mouth without any warning.
"What the fuck?" She pulls away, looking disgusted and grabs her purse off the counter.
"Wait, I can explain," he protests, not entirely sure what he's going to say.
"Don't bother, I don't do freaks."
Sam stands up suddenly, his stool squeaking at the sudden movement, he steps toward her and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but his brother grabs his arm and mutters something about not making a scene. The girl heads over to the rowdy group of bikers watching some game or other on the big screen, without so much as a backward glance, and Sam starts to say something but Dean cuts him off.
"It's okay, man, she wasn't even my type." Sam raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything, relieved his brother doesn't seem upset.
Dean slaps a few bills down on the counter and starts ordering shots.
…
He keeps telling himself that this day will be the one.
This state.
This town.
He's been hanging around on Main Street all day of the latest town in the string they've revisited, asking questions and following up with the old woman they'd saved nearly two months earlier. She insists on loading him up with baked goods but doesn't give him any answers, and he heads back to the motel, the familiar ache of disappointment settled deep in his chest.
Sam comes back late one night with takeout. Dean isn't in one of his usual spots (desk or bed) so Sam checks the bathroom.
The door's ajar and he's about to tell his brother to come on already, that the food's getting cold, but the look on Dean's face stops him. He's staring at himself in the mirror; cool and appraising, like he's surveying a crime scene or something. He's not just staring; he's looking- he's really looking. He opens his mouth in a fake smile and then relaxes his face back into a neutral expression. The last of his teeth have fallen out, so the bared lips reveal only pink gums and empty space. He covers his mouth with one hand and smiles again. His mouth smiles, but his eyes are so empty and dead looking that it scares Sam.
"Dean."
Dean whips around with a start looking like he just got caught jerking off.
"Dude, a little warning. I don't even know how you can sneak up on me with those ginormous clown feet of yours," he says easily, the vacant look vanishing from his face as quickly as it had appeared.
They eat the Chinese food, and make small talk, and then Sam turns on his laptop and Dean gets into bed. It's only eight o'clock, and he can't be that tired, but Dean rolls over to face the wall. Sam wonders if he can still just switch his brain off and go right to sleep, but he no longer envies his brother.
It's time to call Bobby.
TBC