Author's Note:
Fanfic comes from a prompt from ALittleTwisted2 who wanted to see Sam cursed by a witch.
The title comes from an Aerosmith song.
Day One: Twenty-Five
"So, what's in Iowa?" Dean asked as Sam shifted through the papers on his lap, looking over his notes.
"Corn," the younger Winchester answered simply, "And a really bored witch."
Dean wrinkled his nose, "A witch? Are you sure?"
Sam nodded, "Almost positive. This one woman from… uh… Progress, Iowa, seems to have an amazing streak of good luck while the rest of the town is suffering from the Recession."
"What type of good luck?" Dean asked, turning down the rock music playing from the Impala's speakers so that he could hear his brother better.
"Well," Sam began, "Her granddaughter won this year's Corn Queen pageant, she won an all-expenses paid cruise to the Bahamas from a radio station she doesn't even listen to… and hers is the only house in her neighbourhood not infested with grubs."
Dean rose an eyebrow, "Uh huh. So, what, Grandma got bored of playing Bingo and knitting?"
Sam looked up, "It's Iowa, Dean, there isn't anything to do except watch corn grow."
Dean snorted laughter.
"Man," he muttered, turning the music back up, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along to Led Zeppelin's 'Your Time Is Gonna Come', "I hate witches."
W
Dean stared out the Impala's windshield suspiciously as they drove down Marigold Avenue, Progress, Iowa. Although the houses on the street were more or less well-kept, many reflected the air of hard times that had fallen on many towns and cities in the country.
Just as Sam had said, all of the lawns in front of the houses sported dry yellow patches of dead grass from the grub infestation… all houses, save one.
The bungalow was mint-coloured with white trim, boasting flourishing rosebushes, lawn gnomes and a mailbox shaped like a fat, pink piglet.
"Yup," Dean commented, putting the Impala into park two houses down from their intended target, "A witch definitely lives there."
Sam just smiled and climbed out of his seat.
Although it was a warm day- Dean noticed sweat beading along the back of his neck as soon as he left the air-conditioned Impala- the street was oddly empty.
"Just like in town," Sam commented and Dean nodded, recalling the eerily quiet drive down Progress' main street, deserted even of tourists.
Walking around to the rear of the Impala, Dean popped the car's trunk, taking a gun out and shoving it into the waistband of his jeans, hiding it beneath his leather jacket.
"What if it isn't a witch?" Sam asked suddenly.
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother; what a time to start second-guessing.
"Well," the older Winchester said with finality, slamming his baby's trunk shut as soon as Sam had grabbed his weapon, "If it's not, we can always ask that sweet old Grandmother we're about to visit."
The brothers walked casually up the sidewalk, acting to all the world as though they had been born and bred in the midst of corn country.
Dean smirked as he and Sam walked past the pig-shaped mailbox, stepping lightly along the paving-stone path that led to the front door.
Once they were at the threshold, the hunter took their guns out, ready to ward off an attack. Dean didn't think there would be any civilians to worry about; the only car in the driveway was the old woman's green Ford Taurus.
Silently, Dean reached out with the hand not holding the gun and tried the doorknob. It opened easily.
Raising an eyebrow at Sam, Dean pushed the door open and stepped into the entryway.
The first thing he noticed was the old-fashioned parquet flooring, the pink walls- a interior decorator would have called them something stupid like 'muted coral' or 'Italian dusk' but to Dean, pink was pink- and the vases of roses that failed to cover up the scent of something less pleasant than fresh flowers.
Something was definitely going on here, Dean knew, whether it was a witch or not.
Without making a sound, Dean motioned to head into the living room while he chose to head into the kitchen, just off the entryway.
Sam nodded and moved away, leaving Dean alone.
The older brother slunk into the kitchen, his boots moving silently across the yellowing linoleum floor.
Dean noticed a pot boiling on the stove- the source of the stench- and reached out to lift the lid from it.
He wished he hadn't.
Along with a noxious cloud of four-smelling steam that made his throat close up and his eyes water, there was also the sight of congealed blood and bits of… animals… that Dean didn't even want to know about.
Quickly dropping the lid from the pot, Dean exited the kitchen in a hurry and met his brother in the living room. There was nothing there of interest, a flower-pattered couch and two matching chairs, a brand new flat-screen TV and a shelf full of crystal animal figurines and family photos.
Just as Dean was about to motion to his brother that Sam go investigate upstairs while he take down, there came a loud thud from behind the closed basement door.
With a gesture for Sam to follow, Dean approached the door and opened it, staring into darkness lit only by a faint red light that flickered faintly in the interior of the basement.
I think we've found our witch; Dean thought and smiled at his brother.
Dean took the lead and headed down the stairs, now not even trying to be quiet.
The basement was unfinished, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, it had rough brick walls and a cement floor, it seemed to be only one large room encompassing the entire area of the floor above it.
At the far end of the basement, what might have been a card table draped in a black cloth and decorated with red tea lights and candles- among other paraphernalia- crouched like a living thing.
"Hunters!" A brittle female voice spat from the shadows and Sam and Dean were instantly on alert.
"Why are you here? I haven't hurt anyone?" the witch asked, moving forward into the light to reveal a tiny old woman who couldn't be more than five feet high, with fluffy white hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and a deeply lined face. She wore beige slacks, a pink knitted sweater over a striped shirt and slippers on her feet.
Dean frowned; she really didn't look like a witch, whatever the evidence suggested.
"How did you know about us?" Sam asked.
"I was warned about you," the old lady said coldly, "Told that I might attract attention."
"Damn right," Dean said, "You can't just suddenly have good luck like you're besties with a Leprechaun."
The elderly woman frowned at Dean.
"Why can't you just leave an old woman be? I haven't harmed anyone," she asked in a feeble tone.
"Because you don't know what you're doing," Sam told her, "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Surprisingly cold eyes turned to the younger Winchester, "And what makes you an expert on what I'm doing?"
Before Sam could answer, Dean interrupted, "You may think you're getting a good deal now, lady, but trust me, its gonna bite you in the ass one day."
"How dare you-" the witch began but stopped mid-sentence as Sam suddenly moved, racing towards the alter she had set up.
"Don't touch that!" she shrieked and lunged towards Sam.
Dean fired his gun and the force of the impact pushed the woman off her feet, blood rapidly darkening the front of her shirt.
Before Sam could tip the alter over, the woman began speaking quickly, her words running together as she before she ran out of time, her eyes locked on the eldest Winchester.
Crash!
The card-table alter smashed against the concrete floor seconds before a second gunshot rang out, silencing the witch for good.
Dean tore his gaze away from the woman's lifeless body and looked at his brother.
"You okay?" he asked automatically.
Sam nodded, "Let's get out of here before any neighbours come to investigate."
W
Back on the road- in an unusual stroke of luck, the brothers hadn't even had to stop to book a motel room- Dean felt strangely happy.
It was so odd for him to feel such an emotion, especially since recently he'd only been aware of darker ones, residual from his time spent in Hell, but now he felt simply, deliriously happy.
Glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye, Dean noticed that even his brother was smiling a little.
The brothers drove for several more hours before hunger forced them to take a break and Dean decided that the small town they had stopped in would be a good place to stay for the night.
Day Two: Forty-Five
Sam opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of the motel room Dean had picked out for the night. His brother in question was snoring loudly in the bed next to his but that wasn't what had woken him up- Sam had been sleeping in the same room as his brother for nearly twenty-five years and had learned to tune out his snoring, actually, it was more comforting to him than annoying- and lazily rolled his eyes to the side to check what time it was.
Seven a.m.
Might as well get up now that I'm awake, Sam reasoned, not bothered by the early morning since he was often up before his brother anyway.
Sitting up, Sam yawned widely, stretching his back, digging his toes into the thick, green motel carpet.
Standing, Sam made his way into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush his teeth. Closing the door and turning on the light, he peered into the mirror and screamed.
SPN
Dean's eyes snapped open at the sound of his brother's cry. Instantly on his feet, knife in hand- the very same one he always kept hidden beneath his pillow- the hunter's eyes took in the empty motel room in seconds, noticing the line of light shining out from underneath the bathroom door.
With rapid footsteps, Dean crossed the main room and yanked open the bathroom door- luckily it hadn't been locked- and stared at his brother.
Sam was leaning forward against the bathroom sink, his face inches away from the mirror, his hands gripping the edge faux-marble counter tightly.
He hadn't noticed Dean was standing in the doorway.
"Sam!"
The younger Winchester jumped- startled- and faced him.
"What's wrong? Why did you yell?" Dean asked impatiently.
"Look!" Sam exclaimed, "Grey!
Dean's brother raised a hand and brushed his bangs back, showing silvery strands mixed into the chestnut brown… or not, it could be a trick of the crappy motel light.
Dean relaxed; at first he'd been afraid Sam had somehow been hurt- he wouldn't put it past his brother to get hurt in their locked motel room with only the two of them inside- and chuckled.
Sam narrowed his eyes, clearly not impressed with Dean's reaction.
"Awww widdle Sammy's growing up!"
Sam glowered at him, "That's not funny!"
"C'mon Sam," Dean commented, more serious now, "Calm down."
The younger Winchester took a deep breath.
"You haven't been sleeping well," Dean continued, "And this job isn't exactly relaxing as it is."
Sam nodded and sighed, running a hand down his face.
"You're right," he muttered.
Dean smiled, "Of course I'm right!"
Sam looked up again and Dean could have sworn he saw crow's feet at the corners of his brother's eyes and laugh lines- or frown lines, since Sam hadn't been doing much laughing for a while- around his mouth but he dismissed it, the bathroom lights in motels were never flattering.
"Well," Dean commented, now that the threat had passed, "If you're not finished in the bathroom, Princess, I'm going to get us some breakfast."
Sam scowled but nodded, hand on the edge of the door, poised to close it.
"And if you're not out by the time I come back," Dean threatened, "I'll drag you out by those grey hairs of yours!"
"DEAN!" Sam exclaimed and slammed the bathroom door in his face.
The older brother chuckled to himself and left the motel room, ready for breakfast and coffee.
SPN
Sam looked up from the screen of his laptop when Dean stepped inside the motel room, arms laden with brown paper bags and a drink tray containing two steaming cups of coffee.
Chuckling, Sam closed his computer and watched as Dean dumped the bags onto the end of his bed.
"Did you buy the whole store?" Sam asked and Dean smirked.
"I was hungry," he said defensively, taking one of the cups of coffee and handing it to Sam.
"Thanks," he muttered and took a sip of the drink, full of cream and sugar, just the way he liked it.
Dean opened one of the brown paper bags and set it aside before handing another one to his brother, "Pancakes."
Sam nodded and pulled a Styrofoam tray out of the bag.
"What's in there?" he asked, eyeing a third bag that Dean hadn't opened.
His brother smiled slyly, "A surprise."
Sam narrowed his eyes, "What kind of surprise?"
"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean assured him, already stuffing his own breakfast of sausage and eggs into his mouth, "It's a good one."
"Mmhm," Sam muttered and turned his attention to his food.
"Are we leaving soon?" he asked after a while, as the silence drew on, punctuated only by the sound of chewing and slurping.
Dean shrugged, "Unless you've found a pressing case for us. I figure we're far enough away from Progress and if we don't have anywhere to be… I thought we could just hang out for a few days."
Sam looked up sharply, "Really?"
Dean nodded, "Why not? We could both use a break, right?"
Sam nodded, "I guess…"
As though on a whim, Dean spoke up again, "I passed a movie theatre on my way to the diner and I saw that they were playing that new Batman movie… you know, the Dark Knight? And I thought maybe, we could go see it, if you wanted?"
Sam tried to hide his look of surprise at his brother's request. Apparently he failed because Dean's smile widened, "C'mon, don't you wanna see the best superhero ever?"
"Batman is not the best superhero," Sam argued, feeling himself smiling with his brother.
"Oh, and who is? Superman?" Dean asked, jokingly.
"Of course! At least he has super powers!" Sam countered, "What does Batman have? A utility belt?"
"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, "Don't bash the belt!"
W
Sam settled into a theatre chair, finding that he was actually excited to be doing something so normal as watching a movie with his brother.
Dean sank into the seat beside him, looking particularly pleased with himself and when the lights dimmed in the theatre and the trailers began playing, he reached up and pulled the third brown paper bag he'd brought back to the motel room from beneath his jacket.
"Dean," Sam hissed, eyeing the people around them, "What is that? Beer?"
In the darkened theatre Sam saw his brother roll his eyes, "Of course not."
Slipping a hand into the bag, Dean smirked and pulled out a package of Twizzlers licorice.
"There's no way I'm buying the candy at the concession," Dean told him, "It costs and arm and a leg."
Sam smiled and shook his head, surprised when his brother dropped the bag onto his lap.
"Don't think I forgot about you," Dean muttered, a long, red piece of licorice sticking out from the corner of his mouth.
Sticking his hand into the brown bag cautiously, Sam smiled when he pulled out a familiar orange package of Reece's Pieces.
SPN
Dean yawned widely and glanced to one side, catching sight of Sam already lying down on his bed, sleeping.
Checking the time on the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand between the two beds, Dean decided to finish what he was watching before following his brother's example and turning in for the night.
Leaning back against the headboard of his own bed, Dean grabbed the TV remote and turned the volume down so that the noise wouldn't wake his brother.
The hunter couldn't help but smile as he thought about the past few hours. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun with his brother.
It had been nice not to think about work, not to worry about monsters or people dying, and take a break. Even if it was just for a short time.
After the movie, the brothers had visited the same diner Dean had bought breakfast at and enjoyed a quiet lunch, talking about the movie they had just seen.
Back at the motel, Dean had fished a pack of cards from his duffle and he and Sam had played for a couple of hours.
The hunter remembered the first time Sam had learned to play cards. He and Sam had been staying at Bobby's and the power had gone out because of a storm. The grizzled hunter had lit candles, handed out flashlights and the three of them had played Poker until the power came back on.
Once the brothers had tired of cards, Dean had found a Rambo marathon on the TV and they had watched it for a while, ordering pizza for dinner before Sam had fallen asleep, as though exhausted from the mundaneness of the day.
Dean finished watching the TV and turned it off, sighing sadly because he knew that he and Sam would have to get back to the real world soon find more monsters to kill.
Pulling the blankets down, Dean reached out to turn off the lamp that sat on the nightstand, praying that he wouldn't have nightmares tonight, before plunging the motel room into darkness and laying down, the sound of his brother's steady breathing lulling into a deep slumber.
Day Three: Sixty-Five
Dean woke instantly at the sound of Sam getting up out of bed the next morning, which was unusually because his brother always tried to be as quiet as possible since he liked to wake up at ungodly hours.
This morning though, Dean was drawn out of sleep by the sound of his brother groaning as though he were in pain.
Sighing, the hunter sat up and turned to see… some old man sitting on the edge of his brother's bed.
Dean's face must have given him away because the man narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.
"What?" he snapped irritably, sounding exactly like the younger Winchester brother.
"Oh shit," Dean whispered before addressing his sibling.
"Uh… Sam… I think you should go look at yourself in the mirror."
Sam stood up, grumbling to himself and headed into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Dean held his breath and waited. Seconds later, the door swung open and Sam ran out, a confused and frightened expression on his face.
"What the hell did you do?" he asked, frantically.
Dean stood, "I didn't do anything, Sam!"
"You must have!" his brother exclaimed, "I wasn't like this yesterday!"
Sam reached up and grabbed the hair at the sides of his head, clearly panicking.
"Hey!" Dean snapped, "I don't know what happened but we'll figure it out, okay? Why don't you sit down before you have a heart attack or something?"
Sam staggered back over to his bed and sank onto the mattress. He shook his head, his expression still confused.
"I don't understand…. What could it have been?"
Dean stared at his brother for a long moment, taking in his altered appearance.
The crow's feet and frown lines Dean had noticed the day before had grown and his hair had thinned considerably, showing pink scalp at the crown of his head, the hair that still remained was now all steel grey with no sign of the chestnut brown it had been only days ago. Sam had bags beneath his green eyes, as though he hadn't slept in weeks and he sat hunched over ever so slightly. Dean smirked a little bit when he noticed that Sam had also developed a bit of a paunch as well.
"Dean," Sam said, suddenly looking up, "I think I know what did this."
The hunter raised an eyebrow inquiringly, "Oh yeah?"
"That witch from Progress," Sam suggested and Dean frowned.
"With what? A hex bag?" Dean asked and eyed the motel room suspiciously.
Sam shook his head, "I think… I think it was a spell. You know that she was saying something before I smashed her alter? She was staring at you as though hoping you'd burst into flames but I think that whatever spell she'd been reciting backfired when I interfered."
Dean mulled his brother's idea over in his mind for a moment. It did make sense. It could very well be that the spell was meant for him but had gone wonky when Sam destroyed the witch's alter.
Dean sighed, "I hate witches."
Sam looked like he completely agreed with him.
"What do we do about this?" he asked, pointing to himself, "I can't stay as a… sixty-something year old forever."
Dean nodded, "Well, since our witch is dead, we'll have to go to the next best thing."
Sam raised a bushy grey eyebrow at him.
"Bobby!"
Sam groaned, clearly not pleased with the idea of the veteran hunter finding out about this.
"He'll know what to do to change you back," Dean insisted, "I know he will."
Sam nodded, "Alright."
Standing slowly, face screwing up as he did so, Sam got up from the edge of the bed.
"You okay there?" Dean asked, trying not to smirk.
"Fine," Sam muttered.
"Hey," Dean called before his brother could disappear into the bathroom again, "Why did the spell suddenly work now? I mean, I killed that bitch two days ago and the mumbo jumbo she was spouting just suddenly decides to show up?"
Sam frowned, thinking. Suddenly his eyes widened in shock and realization.
"I don't think it just started today, Dean," he said slowly.
Dean looked at his brother curiously.
"Yesterday," Sam continued, "The grey hairs and…"
Sam's face contorted as though he were eating something sour, "…The wrinkles? I think that it was already working."
Dean nodded; he guessed it made sense. And he'd just thought Sam was looking haggard from lack of sleep.
"Hold on a minute while I call Bobby," Dean told his brother and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand.
Quickly punching in the grizzled hunter's number, Dean smiled when he heard the familiar growled greeting.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Bobby!" Dean replied, his greeting uncharacteristically cheerful.
"What did you two idjits do now?" Bobby grumbled.
Is this man psychic or what? Dean thought before answering.
"Who says we did anything?" Dean asked innocently, peering at his brother.
"'Cause ninety-nine percent of the time you call me it's cause you two knuckleheads have messed up."
Dean cringed a little but kept a smile plastered on his face.
"Now that you mention it…" he began and heard Bobby groan.
"…We could use your help."
"What'd you two do?" the veteran hunter asked accusingly.
"We killed a witch," Dean gave him the good news first.
"Oh yeah?" Bobby commented.
"…And Sammy got cursed."
There was silence on the other end of the line for about a half a minute before Bobby swore loudly.
"It's not that bad!" Dean insisted, "He's just… old."
"Old?" Bobby asked, "What do you mean?"
"He's old," Dean repeated, "Like he could be my father."
"What?!" Bobby exclaimed.
"It wasn't his fault this time!" Dean defended his brother, seeing Sam frown at him, "It was an accident. We think I was the one who was supposed to be cursed but it kind of messed up when Sam broke the bitch's alter."
The grizzled hunter sighed, "Do you know what she said? The spell, do you remember it?"
Dean looked to his brother, "Do you remember what the witch was saying when she cursed you?"
Sam nodded, "I think so."
Dean relayed the message to Bobby.
"Thinking so isn't good enough," the hunter grumbled, "You have to know so. These things are very sensitive, one wrong word and it can go from bad to shitstorm in seconds."
"Sam knows it," Dean insisted.
"Alright," Bobby said with a sigh, "Get over here and I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, Bobby," the younger hunter said.
"Don't thank me just yet," Bobby warned and ended the call.
"Get ready, Sammy, we're going to Bobby's," Dean told his brother.
Sam nodded and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
SPN
Sam stepped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, frowning to himself.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked from the end of his bed.
Sam shook his head and saw that Dean had packed the Impala while he'd been in the bathroom.
"Sam," Dean said, "Is something wrong?"
Sighing, the other hunter nodded, embarrassed, "My clothes don't fit."
Sam had been upset to find that he seemed to have grown a beer gut overnight and that it made doing up his jeans and buttoning his flannel shirt more than a little challenging. Sam now feared that at any moment the button on his jeans would come loose and cause the pants to slide down his legs. Not liking the way his shirt had strained across his stomach, Sam had decided to leave his overshirt unbuttoned; the blue t-shirt underneath tight but there was no helping it.
Dean smirked, "I never thought you'd be one of those fat old men, what with all the salads you eat."
Sam glared at his brother and sat down on the edge of his bed carefully, grabbing his boots.
"I want to go straight to Bobby's," Sam told Dean as he pulled on his shoes, "No stops."
"What about gas?" Dean asked innocently and Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother, "You know what I mean!"
Sam turned his gaze to his boots and frowned.
"What now?" Dean asked.
Sam wiggled his toes inside the boots but the pain he was feeling did not ease.
"Sam?" Dean asked, moving towards him.
Sighing, Sam stood, trying to hide a grimace as he did so, "Let's just get to Sioux Falls."
SPN
Dean tried not to smirk when Sam spoke up from the Impala's passenger seat.
"Why are we slowing down?"
Dean turned down the rock music playing and glanced at his brother.
"I'm starving," he told Sam, "And I want something to eat before driving seven hours to South Dakota."
"Can't we just stop at a McDonald's drive-through?" Sam asked and Dean shook his head.
"No way! I want some real food," he argued.
Dean pulled into a parking spot of the diner he had bought breakfast from the day before, and unbuckled his seatbelt.
"Are you coming?" he asked his brother when Sam didn't move.
"Can't you just grab something to eat on the way?" Sam asked, his expression even more hangdog as a result of the bags beneath his 'puppy eyes'.
"I'm going in," Dean told his sibling, "You can wait in the car if you want but I am not going to rush just because you're pouting."
Sam glared at him, "I am not pouting, Dean. I don't want to go out in public like this."
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Why not? No one here knows you, to them you're just another dirty old man."
Sam frowned, "That's not funny, Dean."
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean begged, "Don't make me go in by myself."
After a moment's hesitation the younger Winchester sighed and undid his seatbelt and opened the car door, "Fine, but no jokes, Dean. I mean it."
Dean nodded and mimed a halo hanging over his head with his hands before climbing from the vehicle.
As he and Sam walked across the parking lot, Dean noticed his brother limping slightly.
"You okay there, Sam?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah," his brother muttered, "I'm fine."
Dean nodded and decided to give his brother a break. Opening the door to the diner for Sam, Dean followed him into the restaurant and instantly headed for a booth at the back.
There were a few people enjoying the diner, mostly senior citizens. Dean smirked and leaned across the table towards his brother.
"See Sam, this isn't so bad," he whispered, "You fit right in."
Sam said nothing but only glared daggers at him. Dean straightened up and smiled at the young waitress who was approaching their table.
"Good Morning," she greeted, "Welcome to Daisy's, can I get you two gentlemen something to drink to start?"
Both Winchesters asked for coffee and the waitress nodded before leaving to fill the order.
"Don't worry, Sam," Dean murmured to his brother, "Bobby will fix this."
"I hope so," he replied and sighed, peering out the window beside their booth.
Both Winchesters looked up when the waitress returned with coffee and menus. She gave Dean a smile as she poured his coffee and handed him a breakfast menu. Turning to Sam, she held out a slightly different menu, "Would you like to look at the senior's menu, Sir?"
Sam's face scrunched up as though he was constipated, "Uh, no… no thank you."
"C'mon Dad," Dean said, "You know you have to eat before you take your pills."
"Dean," Sam began but his brother just smirked from behind the waitress and took the menu from her, "Thanks, Sweetheart."
The girl smiled and told the Winchesters to let her know if they needed anything else.
"What the hell was that?" Sam hissed angrily.
"Sorry, Sammy," Dean apologized insincerely, "I couldn't resist. Besides, we can't really be brothers, you're like thirty years older than me."
If looks could kill Dean was certain he would be reduced to a pile of ash on the vinyl seat from the heat of his brother's glare but luckily Sam's eyes didn't quite have that effect so instead he just smirked and opened his menu.
SPN
"I'll be right back," Sam told Dean and stood, feeling the call of nature.
"If the waitress comes while I'm in the restroom," Sam instructed his sibling, "Tell her I'll have the pancakes."
Dean nodded without looking up and waved a hand dismissively.
SPN
"I don't know what you were so concerned about, Sammy," Dean told his brother as they left the diner, "No one even noticed us and you got breakfast for cheaper than usual."
Sam shrugged and made an attempt to smile, "I'll just be happy to get back to being twenty-five again."
Dean nodded, "No more stops until we get to Sioux Falls, okay? Baby's full of gas and my stomach's full of food, we should be good until then."
The brothers climbed into the vehicle and Dean headed out to the highway that would take them west to South Dakota.
SPN
Sam couldn't believe it!
They were stuck in traffic!
As far as he could see, the road was covered in bumper-to-bumper traffic, cars idling but going nowhere.
"It's not like I planned for this, Sam," Dean grumbled irritably, just as annoyed as his brother.
"Maybe there's an accident," Sam suggested and rolled down his window, the sun beating down on the dark interior of the Chevy and heating it up.
"Don't worry," Dean assured him, "I'm sure it'll clear up soon."
SPN
Dean was exhausted.
He couldn't believe that they had had to wait for hours for traffic to clear from what was normally a quiet stretch of highway, turning an already seven-hour drive into a twelve-hour one.
The sun was going down now since they had been stuck in traffic most of the day but Dean wasn't going to stop until they reached Bobby's old salvage yard, just as he'd told Sam.
And speaking of Sam, his brother was fast asleep in the passenger's seat, mostly out of boredom than anything Dean guessed.
Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Dean rubbed at his eyes. He knew that if Sam was awake he'd offer to drive but Dean wasn't going to pull over. He'd be okay for a while.
Day Four: Eighty-Five
At first Dean didn't notice Sam had changed. He was just too focused on making it to Bobby's before midnight and his brother had been so quiet, sleeping the intervening hours away that when Dean again looked at his brother from the corner of his eye he was even more shocked than he had been that morning.
"Fuck!" Dean cried and slammed on the brakes- luckily the Impala was now the only car on the road- and reached out to his brother.
"Sam," he said, touching his sibling's shoulder, "Sammy, wake up, man."
Slowly his brother opened his eyes, "Wha- What's wrong?"
"It happened again," Dean said simply, startled by how thin and reedy his brother's voice was.
Sam's eyes widened and he lifted his hands, staring at them. The knuckles of his fingers were badly swollen, the fingers curled over on themselves to resemble claws.
Dean cringed in sympathy. In the dim light of the Impala's dashboard he could see that his brother's appearance had changed dramatically, now no longer as old as their father, Sam could pass for Dean's grandfather instead.
Sam's face was lined with deep wrinkles, his green eyes rheumy and sunken into their sockets. His hair had nearly all fallen out and what little remained on his head was snow white and wispy. As well as being deformed by arthritis, Sam's hands were covered in liver spots and he seemed to have lost all the weight he had rapidly gained the day before, plus more so that he seemed literally skin and bones. He sat hunched in the Impala's seat; his shoulders curled forward, his back arched with age.
"Dean," Sam said, his voice quivering, "I'm sorry."
The hunter frowned, "Sorry for what?"
"I sh-should have destroyed the a-alter as soon as we got to the b-basement," Sam apologized, his eyes welling with tears.
"You didn't know, Sammy," Dean told him gently.
"But-" he began again but Dean interrupted.
"It could just as easily have been me that bitch cursed," Dean told him, "Don't be sorry. We're close to Bobby's and he'll get you back to your old self in no time."
Sam nodded and seemed to relax. As Dean started the car again, his brother spoke once more.
"What's going to happen to me tomorrow if Bobby can't fix this?"
Dean didn't answer. He didn't want to think about it. Sam was so old now; he couldn't imagine he'd last much longer before nature took it course.
Not that Sam was going to die of old age at twenty-five. Dean knew Bobby would find a way to lift the curse and get his brother back to his normal age.
SPN
Bobby Singer stood up from his desk when he heard the familiar grumble of the Winchester's beloved Chevy Impala pull into his driveway.
"About damn time," he muttered as he headed to the door and opened it, stepping out onto the porch illuminated by an overhead light.
He watched as Dean opened the driver's side door and stepped out, a sheepish expression on his youthful face.
"Did you get lost on the way here?" Bobby growled and Dean shook his head, "Traffic jam."
The veteran hunter watched curiously as Dean walked around the front of the car to the passenger's side and opened the door.
Bobby frowned when he heard the older brother murmuring quietly to his sibling but he couldn't make out the words.
Dean had said Sam was old, enough to be his father, at any rate, so why was it taking them such a long time to get out of the car? Bobby thought he could pass for the boys' daddy if he wanted and he sure as hell could get in and out of his own vehicle just fine on his own.
"Y'all need some help?" Bobby asked and Dean straightened up, nodding.
Sighing, the grizzled hunter stepped down from the porch and approached the Impala, expecting to see a Sam Winchester not much older than himself… but what he did see made him swear out loud and hurry forward.
"The hell did you boys do?" he asked, finding it hard not to stare at the octogenarian that was Sam Winchester.
"I told you," Dean said, "We killed a witch but Sammy got cursed."
Bobby shook his head at the brothers.
Sam was sitting in his seat with his hands against the dashboard, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
"The seat's too low," Bobby said, "Sam can't pull himself up out of it."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Bobby, we hadn't noticed."
The grizzled hunter glared at him, "I wasn't the one who got himself turned into an old fart, was I?"
Sam lowered his head, ashamed at his stupidity.
"Well, hopefully I can help you get back to yer proper age," Bobby commented in a gentler tone, "But right now we've gotta get you outta that seat."
After a moment's thought, Bobby turned to the older brother.
"Dean, you go round to the driver's side and push Sam forward while I pull."
Sam looked up, alarmed, and tried to protest but Bobby had already carefully taken a hold of his arms at the elbows.
"When I tell you," Bobby told Dean who was kneeling on the driver's seat, hands on his brother's shoulder blades, "You push. Not before, 'cause we don't wanna hurt him."
Dean nodded, biting his lip.
Bobby peered down at Sam, "You ready? You gotta help too, stand up if you can once yer straight, okay?"
Sam nodded, clearly nervous.
"Alright…go!" Bobby ordered and as gently as possible tugged at Sam's arms in one smooth motion to help him up off the seat.
They moved slowly, carefully, but once Sam was upright, Bobby relaxed. Sam reached out and grabbed the open door of the Impala.
"You okay, son?" Bobby asked and Sam nodded.
Dean rushed around the front of the Impala, concerned for his brother.
Sam reached out for him and Dean lifted his brother's arm to put it over his shoulder.
Bobby quickly turned away and headed towards the porch. He might not be an educated man but he knew when someone was in pain and he could see it written all over the younger Winchester's face.
SPN
Dean let his brother set the pace and Sam shuffled forward, his boots scraping against the gravel of Bobby's driveway harshly. Walking side by side, Dean noticed that Sam had shrunk considerably, now younger sibling's head reached his shoulders.
"Let me know if you need to take a break," Dean told Sam but his brother shook his head; apparently he had had enough with having to be helped out of the Impala.
It took much longer than it should have to make their way across the driveway and through the front door of Bobby's house.
Dean instantly guided his brother into the living room and helped Sam sit down on the couch. The younger sibling sighed gratefully as he sank into the cushions and closed his eyes as he gathered himself.
Looking up, Dean saw Bobby approaching with a glass of water and two yellow and white pills in his hand.
"Sam," he said and the other hunter opened his eyes, "Take these, they're for arthritis and they should at least take the edge off."
"Sam doesn't have-" Dean began but then stopped.
He peered down at his brother; feeling like an idiot for not noticing Sam was hurting sooner.
"I'm okay, Dean," Sam assured him but he took the offered pills anyway.
"Now, you boys want to tell me exactly what happened with this witch?" Bobby asked and both Winchesters grew sheepish.
Dean scratched the back of his head for a moment before he spoke up, telling Bobby everything that had happened since they had arrived in Progress, Iowa four days previously.
W
"We think that maybe her spell hit Sammy instead of me, like it was supposed to," Dean told the older hunter.
Bobby nodded, "Seem like it. Either way, it's Sam who got into trouble."
"But can you fix it?" Dean asked concernedly.
Bobby nodded and walked over to his desk where a pile of books sat.
"Lucky for you two," he commented sarcastically, "There's only a few aging spells."
Pulling out three books in particular from the stack, Bobby brought them over to Winchesters, placing them on the coffee table.
"All we need is the incantation and we'll know which one it is and how to reverse it," he told them, much to Dean's relief.
Looking to his brother, he noticed Sam's eyes were closed.
"Sam? Sammy? C'mon, wake up man," he said and touched his brother's shoulder.
If the situation hadn't been so serious he might have found it funny that his brother was falling asleep at such an important time.
Sam blinked up owlishly at Dean, "Sorry… I think those pills made me tired."
"Do you remember what that witch said before you got cursed?" Dean asked and waited expectantly for the answer.
Sam's brow furrowed in thought for a moment before his eyes widened, "I… I don't know… I don't remember…"
"You said you knew what it was yesterday!" Dean exclaimed, trying not to panic but failing.
Sam looked at him, his expression hurt.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, "Maybe I should have written it down."
Dean frowned and laid a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, "Don't worry, Sammy. You'll remember it, I know you will."
"I'll make us some coffee," Bobby announced, "This may take a while."
Sam lowered his gaze for a moment before looking up; his faded green eyes suddenly hard.
"Give me a book," he demanded, "It might help jog my memory of what that witch said."
Dean peered at his sibling uncertainly, "You sure? You were just about ready for a long snooze there on the couch a moment ago."
Sam glared at him, the expression somewhat less intense than it would have been if he'd been his proper age, "I am the one the witch cursed, I am responsible."
Dean looked to Bobby and the older hunter nodded, "If you think you can keep up, Son."
Lifting one of the books he'd set down on the table, he handed it to Sam, sitting it in the now-older Winchester's lap instead of handing it to him directly.
Dean watched Sam shakily open the tome, his wrinkled brow furrowed in concentration as Bobby headed into the kitchen to make the promised coffee.
SPN
Bobby held back the urge to sigh as he brought the coffee mugs out to the Winchesters. Sam was still on the couch, the tome open on his lap, his gnarled hands gripping the sides of the book. Dean had moved to take a seat at the veteran hunter's desk and was likewise pursuing one of the volumes Bobby owned on witchcraft.
Sam looked up and thanked Bobby as he set a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.
"You need more light, Son?" the hunter asked and Sam shook his head.
"I'm fine," he assured the grizzled hunter, even as he squinted at the small, spidery text the book was written in.
Making his way over to Dean, Bobby deposited the second coffee cup within reach.
"I was thinking," Bobby began and Dean lifted his head, frowning.
"Yeah?" the younger man asked, clearly not wanting to know what Bobby was thinking about but he knew they'd find out anyway.
"What if it ain't an incantation?" Bobby suggested, "They're damn hard to do, since the witch has to really want something bad to happen to her victim. It ain't like a potion or a spell, all they use are words alone and most witches I've seen can't boil water with an incantation."
Bobby felt eyes on his back and knew that Sam was also watching him.
"What are you suggesting?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Did you check that car of yours for hex bags before you left town?"
Dean's expression turned insulted.
"Bobby, we didn't even have time to stop at a motel so unless the bitch had time to sneak out to the Impala while Sam and I were walking through her house and then sneak back into her basement without us seeing her, than yes, I'd agree and say that it could be a hex bag."
The veteran hunter scowled at the young man, "Don't you take that tone with me, boy."
"It's true," Sam said from over Bobby's shoulder and the grizzled hunter looked over at the young man.
Bobby's expression softened as Sam stood unsteadily, one gnarled hand gripping the arm of the couch for support.
"We already had a pretty good idea about who the witch was and so instead of wasting time, we just went in," Sam explained.
Dean brushed past Bobby and went to his sibling's side, reaching out to grip his brother's elbow.
Bobby scratched the back of his head through his baseball cap and nodded, feeling somewhat sheepish. Sam and Dean had been hunting for a long time and they knew what they were doing. If there were even the chance that they'd brought a hex bag with them, Dean would tear that precious car of his apart to find it.
Glancing out the window and seeing the sky turning grey with the beginnings of dawn, Bobby decided that some breakfast would help all of them concentrate on finding the proper incantation to reverse the curse.
SPN
Dean couldn't help but wolf down the bacon, scrambled eggs and toast Bobby had cooked up for the morning meal, he was just far too anxious to figure out which incantation that bitch had used on his brother and turn him back to his normal age.
Glancing over at his brother, Dean noticed that Sam was more or less pushing his eggs around the plate with his fork, the bacon and toast untouched.
"You should eat something, Sammy," the older brother suggested.
"I'm not really hungry," the younger sibling commented.
Dean turned to look at Bobby for help but the grizzled hunter just shrugged.
"Do you remember anything?" Dean asked Sam instead, hoping that maybe his brother had recalled at least a little of what that witch had been muttering when she'd cursed him.
Sam shook his head sadly before reaching for his mug of coffee and draining it in one long gulp.
"It's still early," Dean said, sounding more confident than he felt, "We have all day still… 'til tonight."
Neither Bobby nor Sam looked especially confident.
W
"Dean."
The older Winchester looked up as soon as Sam called his name. They had returned to the living room and had been going through the tomes Bobby thought might hold answers for the past two hours.
"Did you remember?" he asked, approaching the couch where Sam was sitting.
"Uh… no," Sam replied, looking slightly bashful, "I just… uh… I have to use the washroom."
"Oh…okay," Dean replied and reached out to help his brother up.
Luckily, Sam didn't have to try and climb the stairs to get to the top floor; there was a half-bath on the main floor.
Dean followed his brother down the hallway to the bathroom, ready if Sam needed help. Opening the door, Dean peered around the barely-used bathroom complete with only a toilet and sink and followed his brother into the room.
"Dean-" Sam began but he interrupted, "I don't see any handrails or anything; I'm here to help you."
Sam opened his mouth but then closed it again, a pink flush creeping up his neck and cheeks.
"Oh come off it, Sammy," Dean muttered, "You don't have anything I haven't seen before."
Sam sighed, resigned and nodded lowering his hands to unbutton his jeans.
"Even if it is old and wrinkled now," Dean added, smirking.
"Dean!" Sam gasped, the pink tinge on his face turning bright red with embarrassment.
"Here," Dean said, brushing his brother's hands away as he fumbled with the button, his arthritic fingers no longer as dexterous as they used to be.
Sam grunted a thanks and pulled down his pants and boxer shorts. Dean instantly reached out and gripped his brother's elbows, easing him down to sit on the toilet before stepping out the door to give Sam at least some privacy.
"Dean."
Stepping back into the bathroom, Dean saw that Sam had managed to stand up again but he was once again having difficulty with his jeans.
Quickly helping his brother with his pants, Dean was about to turn away when one of Sam's gnarled hands gripped his wrist.
"Dean," Sam said, his green eyes wide, "I think… I think I remember it… some of it at least but-"
"That's great!" Dean exclaimed, closing his own hand over his brother's and leading him excitedly from the bathroom.
"Bobby!" Dean called, seeing the grizzled hunter appear at the end of the short hallway, a concerned look on his face.
"Grab paper and a pen! Sam remembers it!"
Once all three hunters had returned to the living room, Bobby sat poised with pen and paper to write down what Sam could recall of the witch's incantation.
"It's not a lot," the young hunter lamented but Bobby assured him that whatever little bit he could recall would help.
Sam nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration and recited the few words he could remember before looking guiltily up at his brother and Bobby.
"That's all I've got," he apologized, "Does that help?"
Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure it will."
Turning back to the collection of books he had set out about witchcraft, Bobby flipped through a few pages of a fat red tome bound in leather, working with renewed purpose.
SPN
"Bobby! Dean! This is it! I think this is it!"
Sam exclaimed excitedly, holding up a thin volume bound in purple silk, its pages so thin they were almost translucent, the words written in faded blue ink.
Setting the book out on the coffee table, Sam pointed one crooked index finger at the lines of verse written in small, neat letters on the page.
Bobby and Dean both peered down at the incantation, a smile curving the older Winchester's lips.
"You sure, Son?" the grizzled hunter asked Sam.
The young man nodded, "I read it in my head about six times just to make sure. I'm positive this is what she said."
Bobby picked the book up to get a closer look at the words written in it. Dean flopped down on the couch beside his brother and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, drawing him closer.
Sam was just glad to have found the right spell when he had. His eyes were sore from trying to read the fine print and his back was starting to ache in protest from being bent over for most of the day.
"Well Bobby, do you think it's right?" Dean asked and Bobby nodded, "If Sam's sure than I'm confident it's the right one."
Dean beamed at Sam and the younger brother returned the gesture.
"What do we do now?" Dean asked.
"We have to reverse the incantation," Bobby said, "It's actually pretty simple to do, we just need to hope it's the right one 'cause we won't be able to get a second chance at this."
Dean's smile drooped a bit with the gravity of the situation.
"It's the right one," Sam insisted, "I know it is."
Dean nodded but suddenly Sam felt a twinge of uncertainty in his gut. What if he was wrong? He'd been poring over these books all day and what if this one suddenly sounded like the words the witch had spoken but were not in fact the correct ones?
No, don't think about that, Sam told himself; they are the words she said, you know they are.
"Let's go into the kitchen," Bobby suggested and the Winchesters followed him, "And get this fixed."
W
Bobby hadn't been joking. It was extremely simple to- hopefully- break the curse the witch had put on Sam.
All three hunters sat at the kitchen table, palms sweaty with nerves and hearts hammering in anticipation.
Bobby had the book open on the table, ready to recite the incantation backwards and Dean stood poised beside his brother with a sprig of thyme and his lighter.
The veteran hunter cleared his throat, peered at the two brothers, his grey eyes hopeful, and began to carefully, slowly speak the incantation backwards.
Sam listened silently as Bobby spoke, his own heart galloping painfully in his chest and a bead of chilly sweat slipping down his spine.
There was a pause as the grizzled hunter finished and Dean stared blankly for a moment, forgetting what he was supposed to do.
"Dean," Bobby hissed and Sam's brother jumped, flicking the wheel of his lighter and causing a small orange flame to spring to life. Holding the sprig of thyme in the flames, the bright green leaves curling and turning black before thin tendrils of smoke began wafting upwards.
Sam leaned forward and Dean moved his hands closer, knowing that his younger brother had to breathe in the smoke. After a moment Bobby began to recite the backwards incantation again.
The burning thyme created an acrid smoke and Sam had to resist the urge to cough as it seared his lungs.
Once Bobby was finished speaking he snapped the book shut and waved a hand to dissipate the scent of burning thyme.
"Let's just hope that it works," he muttered seriously and Sam couldn't agree more.
SPN
The rest of the day Dean found himself wishing that it were night so that they could find out the spell had been right.
After Bobby had performed the reverse incantation, Sam claimed to be tired and fell asleep on the couch. Dean sat nearby in one of the armchairs, watching television and keeping an eye on his sibling.
"Do you think we got the right one?" he asked Bobby who was sitting at his desk with a hunting and fishing magazine.
"Sam's a smart kid," Bobby said, "I'm sure he remembered what that witch said as clearly as the sky is blue."
Dean smiled and glanced at his brother sleeping peacefully.
Bobby was right; he really had nothing to worry about. This was Sam they were talking about. He could get out of anything.
W
Dean couldn't help but be more than a little concerned when Sam continued to sleep.
"Do you think I should wake him up?" he asked Bobby worriedly.
The grizzled hunter shook his head, "He's fine, Son. I think he's just exhausted. Let him be."
Dean bit his lip but did as Bobby advised, instead turning on the television and watching some mindless shows for a while, trying not to worry too much about his brother.
W
"C'mon Sammy," Dean urged, "You didn't eat anything for breakfast and we all skipped lunch. You've got to be starving."
Sam sighed and shook his head, "I can't, Dean. I keep thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow if… if…"
Dean gazed determinately at his brother, "You're going to be back to your normal age, that's it. So stop worrying and eat something."
Sam scrunched his face up, making it seem more shrunken and creased, but did as Dean asked and slurped up a spoonful of the stew Bobby had taken out of the freezer and thawed in the microwave for dinner.
Dean, the hypocrite that he was, barely ate his own bowl of stew, instead stirring its contents around with his spoon until it turned to mush.
W
"Are you sure, Dean?" Sam asked for the nth time and Dean sighed, "I am. I'm staying down here with you."
Dean was sitting in one of Bobby's armchairs while Sam lay on his back on the couch. It was already a quarter to eleven at night- where had the time gone- and the older Winchester was not going to let his brother out of his sight. Not tonight. Not when he needed to see if Sam's curse would be lifted or… or not.
Bobby had already left the brothers in peace, heading upstairs to his own bedroom and Dean felt grateful that it was only himself and his brother in the living room.
"Okay, well… night," Sam replied, "See you in the morning."
Dean cringed a little, "Yeah."
Reaching out, he turned out the lamp sitting on the end table beside his chair and filled the room with darkness. Dean did not sleep for a long time.
W
Dean startled awake early the next morning when a ray of yellow sunlight slanted right across his face.
Sitting up and wiping a hand down his face, Dean blinked tiredly, trying to recall why he was sleeping in one of Bobby's old armchairs.
Suddenly, the events of the past few days returned to him in a rush and he bolted out of the chair, eyes locking onto the figure lying on the couch, shrouded with a blanket.
"Sammy," Dean breathed, his heart clenching in his chest.
The younger Winchester slept with the blue and green tartan blanket pulled completely over himself, obscuring his body from view.
Dean felt his mouth go dry and he reached out with one hand to pull the blanket down.
What would he find? Would Sam be younger? Would he be older? Dean didn't know exactly how old Sam had been the day before but he was certain that he couldn't age for much longer before nature took its course.
"Sam?" Dean choked out, "Sammy?"
His brother stirred beneath the blankets and Dean acted before he could loose his nerve, pulling the blanket down and stared at his sibling.
Sam sat up, his gaze groggy and peered owlishly at him.
"Dean?" he asked and the older brother lunged forward, crushing his brother in a hug.
"Sammy! Sammy! You're back!" he exclaimed happily, feeling his brother return the embrace.
"I'm back? I'm okay?" Sam asked, confused and Dean nodded, "Twenty-five again! Go look in the mirror if you don't believe me."
Releasing his sibling, Dean followed Sam's lead as his sibling stood and stared down at himself, fingers plucking at clothes that now fit perfectly before raising his hands to his face and staring at them, the fingers long and straight and free of crippling arthritis.
Dean trailed behind his brother as Sam nearly ran to the bathroom on the main floor and flicked on the light, gazing at his own reflection.
"You did it, Dean," Sam turned and smiled happily at him.
Dean returned his brother's expression but he shook his head, "I didn't do anything. It was all you, Sammy. You're the one who remembered the incantation."
Despite the fact that Dean had really only been along for moral support, Sam grabbed him in a tight hug anyway, and the older brother felt tears well up in his eyes unexpectedly, not realizing how good it was to have Sam hug him like this and how close they had been to being torn apart by so mundane a monster as a witch.
"Let's go tell Bobby the good news," Dean suggested and grinned as Sam practically bound up the stairs to the second floor.
Dean leaned against the wall and smiled. His heart swelled at the thought of his brother. Sam was the smartest kid he knew. He recalled how fervently his brother had fought to save him from his trip Downstairs. And Sam was the one to say that Dean had been responsible for lifting the witch's curse.
Dean shook his head, still Sam looked up to him, seeing him as his hero, even after he'd been to Hell and back.
Dean had the best little brother ever.
Author's Note:
Special thanks to BerserkerHellhound for helping me with Sam's curse!
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