This story was inspired by a dream I had, wayyy back to the night right after Bad Day at Black Rock. I thought there should have been a little more Hurt!Sam...and my brain gave me a crap load of Hurt!Dean. lol my brain never ceases to amaze me. Anyway, so this is part 1/2, and this story is already finished, so quick update! Promise!

Disclaimer: Not even in my dreams

Invisible Touch

"Come on, man! You've got to be kidding me!" Dean complained, looking and feeling like a sad and lost child.

"I wish I was, Dean!" Sam argued. "But unless you can come up with something else, this is the only way to get rid of those things."

Dean just nodded, looking down and away from his brother. This was all pretty much adding up to the worst day in his life. Well, not as bad as the day after Sam had died, but it was a close second. He felt like crap. He was covered in bruises and he ached in places that he didn't know could ache. All he wanted to do was take a hot shower and go to sleep so he could forget this day, or better yet this whole week. Or maybe just skip the shower. Standing kind of sucked at the moment.

And it was all because of a stupid amulet.

--oo--

The Winchester brothers had arrived at yet another town in the middle of nowhere Indiana. The job was fairly straightforward, just a simple salt and burn. The ghost of a previous owner of a rather stately mansion had taken to killing random teenagers who thought it would be fun to break into the house. According to the information Sam had gotten from his research, the ghost was of an old lady who had died rather violently while her grandchildren were visiting her fifty years ago. The grandchildren had not been suspects in her death. Though there was a grave for her in the local cemetery, there had been no body. Which meant more frantic searching, much to Dean and Sam's annoyance.

A search back in the house had finally produced results. They found that the body had been hidden underneath the floorboards in the attic, not the easiest thing to uncover without falling through the ceiling. But neither of them had sustained anything more than a small bruise or two from flying furniture and general disagreement from the spirit. With the body dealt with and the spirit gone from the mansion, they packed and cleaned up the mess and prepared to leave with a job well done.

That is, until they were just about to leave when Dean spotted an old, dusty amulet on a gold chain. The amulet had odd and captivating designs that he had never seen before. He did not know what happened to his common sense, but it had definitely been M.I.A. when he decided to curiously pick it up and put it into his pocket for further examination.

Very soon afterward, it became evident something was wrong. Dean didn't just trip over random things. Multiple times. For the rest of the day and that night, objects seemed to go out of their way to make him trip, smack into something, or go face first into a door when he rounded a corner.

Sam tried to cover his smiles of amusement and occasional bouts of laughter while he researched the next morning to find out exactly what the damn thing was. But his laughter soon died down and he grew serious as his research took over. Dean began cleaning and checking his guns for lack of a better thing to do. It didn't help that the guns kept slipping from his usually adept hands. But bad luck be damned, he was going to finish cleaning his guns!

There was silence between the brothers except for the occasional thunk followed by a quiet curse coming from Dean's side of the room. After a solid two or three hours of Sam's silent searching, he finally had something of an answer.

"Dean, you're never going to believe this."

Uh oh. Not good. "What is it?"

"Well for starters, that amulet is cursed to anyone who touches it-"

Thunk. "Son of a BITCH! Wow, no shit Sherlock. I'm so glad you spent two plus hours of research to find that out," Dean ranted as he seized the gun off the floor and practically threw it onto the bed, fed up with everything. Sam just stared at Dean, completely unfazed. "Are you done?"

Dean's anger faded. He sighed and sat down in the chair opposite Sam. "Yeah. What else you got?"

"Okay, so the amulet is cursed to anyone who touches it. There are no accounts of it in the U.S., but in Europe the list of supposed owners is endless. It originated somewhere in a very early European culture, from what I could find. This thing is a legend all on its own, and it's just short of a miracle that we stumbled upon it," Sam said, clearly excited.

Sam continued before Dean could speak again. "I started research on items that bring bad luck, since that's obviously what seems to be happening-"

"Just like that rabbits foot! You know, at Black Rock a couple months ago…" Dean interrupted grinning, and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, sort of like that. Except the rabbit's foot brought good luck, which turned bad once it was lost. This one just gave you straight bad luck from the moment it was touched. Which wouldn't really be questionable except for that fact that this," Sam pointed to the stone design in the middle amulet, which was on the bedside table. "This is a Nazar."

"A what?"

"It's a very old Turkish talisman. For good luck." Sam emphasized the last point.

Dean looked baffled. "Then why the hell am I getting all this bad luck? I should be winning more lottery tickets, dammit!"

"I'm thinking it's been cursed, but I have to do some more research to be sure."

"Ugh, fine, but hurry up. I don't have all day."

"You can pitch in any time you feel like…"

"Yeah, but you already started. I wouldn't want to ruin your fine research."

"Whatever, dude."

The research continued on Sam's part and Dean tried his best to wait patiently.

He was just about to start pestering Sam when his brother got up with his laptop balanced in hand and started comparing the amulet to images on the screen.

"I don't believe it…" Sam muttered to himself, his hand hovering over the odd amulet, careful not to touch it.

"What'd you find?"

"This amulet is cursed. Very cleverly too."

"Well, who cursed it and why?" Dean asked, picking up the amulet from the bedside table to look at it more closely.

"That's just it. The question is not who cursed it. It's what cursed it," Sam explained patiently.

"Okayyy. I assume you know what it is?" Dean asked less patiently.

"You're never going to believe this. I mean this is farfetched, even for us-"

"There's not much you can say that will surprise me, Sammy."

"It's pixies, Dean."

Silence. "Except that…. What?"

"Pixies. You picked up an amulet that was cursed by pixies or faeries or goblins or whatever you want to call them. See this design right here?" Sam pointed to the silver encasing the Nazar, looking almost like a Celtic knot. "This is from a design found in the Lisheen Ruins."

Dean thought for a second. "That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?"

"The Ruins in Ireland? It's probably one of the most haunted places in the world. According to local lore, the wooded area around the Lisheen Castle, called The Rath, is occupied by faeries. And faeries in Irish lore are known for their mischief and misfortune."

"Okay, so I just got a little bad luck from pixie things, we can fix that no big deal."

Sam chewed his lip a little nervously. "Right?" Dean asked for confirmation.

"Not exactly. It's bad enough that you're cursed, but they're the ones doing the cursing."

"Wait, wait, wait, so you're saying that I have little Tinker Bells following me around? Why haven't I seen them? Why haven't you?" Dean said, still struggling to put it all together.

"They must make themselves invisible. And the moment you touch that thing, they are attracted to you and will never leave you alone until let someone else touch the charm and pass on the curse."

A thought struck Dean. "So this is probably why that old lady died!" Sam stared at him as if he was missing something.

"Oh… this is why the old lady died," Dean said in a more subdued voice, staring with disgust at the little pendant that was causing so much trouble. "And the others who touched this…?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "Anyone who's touched it died. It must have been a gift to that old lady from her grandchildren or something, because no one's supposed to live passed a week if they can't get rid of it in time."

"What's with the seven day timeline?" Dean asked to himself and sat quiet for a moment, pondering. "So, what's the bad news?"

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes. "It looks like there's a spell to take the curse away, but I'm going to call Bobby to see what he thinks. Man, he's going to blow a gasket when he finds out what you did."

Dean laughed. "I know I'm kinda feeling sorry for the old man."

"Me too. Give me thirty minutes, then we'll go get something to eat."

"Can't I just go-"

"No!" Sam quickly cut Dean off. "You're not moving until we figure this out." Sam smirked mischievously. "Don't even scratch your nose."

"Always throwin' that in my face, Sammy. Fine, look." Dean moved his chair so he could see the TV better, turned it on, and propped his feet up on one of the beds. "See, I'm not moving."

Unfortunately, Dean was bored within seconds. Who the hell invented daytime TV? This is getting ridiculous. Sam had only been talking to Bobby for ten minutes when Dean began looking for another form of entertainment. Sam was deeply engrossed in whatever Bobby was saying. Perfect.

He resorted to leaning his chair back and letting it fall back in place with a thud, leaning it farther and farther back each time. Sam duly ignored him, which only prompted Dean to keep going.

Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud… "Woah!" BAM.

Sam turned around just in time to see flailing arms before Dean and the chair flew backwards onto the floor. "Dean, would be quiet please? I'm trying to talk to Bobby."

"I can't win, can I?" Dean muttered. He thought he could hear cackles of laughter coming from somewhere. I'm going to kill them myself.

Instead of getting up, he put his hands behind his and stared at the ceiling, waiting for Sam to be done. Oh gross, is that a stain? How did that get on the ceiling? Maybe I don't want to know…

"Okay, thanks, Bobby. We appreciate it." Sam snapped his phone shut and looked over at his brother, still lying on the ground.

"You ready to eat?"

"When am I ever not ready to eat?" Dean was up and out the door, jacket and keys in hand, before Sam could respond.

--oo--

"I swear, Dean, you make my bad luck look like a joke!" Sam teased as they walked back into the motel room. "It's a good thing we ordered everything to go, or you'd be wearing it by now."

"Ugh, shut up. Just gimme my food, I'm starving," Dean growled. He had tripped no less than ten times over nothing and had a bucket of water dumped on him by some old lady (who the hell did that anymore??). And he didn't even want to think of all the near misses with the cars and bicycles and people. It wasn't that hard to avoid one person was it? For all the energy he had earlier, he was beginning to feel tired and grumpy and fed up with this day. "So what did Bobby come up with? Please tell me we can get rid of these little bitches," Dean asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, we can…"

"…But?" Sam still hesitated. Not a reassurance at all.

"Don't freak out okay?" At Dean's nod, he continued. "But we figured out that we have to let them… draw your blood."

"What?!"

"Dean, just let me explain! The ritual has two parts. The first is going to make the pixies visible. Once they're visible, they become vulnerable as well. But part of that is to let the pixies draw the cursed one's blood. We aren't sure how much, but it's gotta be enough to fuel the spell. And we're going to have to go back to the mansion because it's 'the dwelling of the last owner'. Bobby and I checked everywhere for something else." Sam shrugged and looked up through his bangs sheepishly at his brother.

"Come on, man! You've got to be kidding me!" Dean complained, looking and feeling like a sad and lost child.

"I wish I was, Dean!" Sam argued. "This is the only way to get rid of those things. It's either that or your life." And he'd be damned if he was going to let Dean go downstairs ahead of schedule.

Dean looked at Sam's distressed face and nodded. He knew Sam and Bobby would have scoured every place possible to keep him as far from harm's way as they could.

"Okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Okay."


Good? Bad? Shouldn't bother with the next chapter?

The second chapter will be up sometime next week regardless lol, unless you want me to put it up sooner.