A/N: There was no reason for this chapter. It just popped into my head while I was heating up mini corn dogs for my son tonight. No beta, just impulsivity. Usual disclaimers and such apply. Happy New Year!


New Year's Eve

We were all crowded in Bobby's living room, watching the hoopla on TV for New Year's Eve. I was so fucking tired, I could barely keep my eyes open for more than fifteen minutes at a time. The stupid Christmas-witch-curse left me wiped out, and it'd been over a week since it happened.

Dad thinks it has something to do with the pear I bit. I've been lethargic and running a stupid low-grade fever for days.

So here I was, lying on the couch, head in Sam's lap, feet tucked against Dean, not really watching TV and ready for this curse to be truly over with. It was getting old.

I was thirsty and wanted some water and to go to the bathroom. I stretched a little and started to get up, which caused Dean to go into hyper-hover-mode.

"What's wrong? You need something? I'll get it, what do you want?"

That was getting old, too. I rolled my eyes and sat up.

"Don't roll your eyes. Just tell me what you need."

I snapped, "I need to take a leak. Do you have to help me with that, or can I handle it on my own?"

Sam laughed, until he caught a death glare from Dean. Then he choked down his laughter by clearing his throat and turned his attention back to the TV. Dean backed off, but I could feel his eyes watching me.

Pushing myself off the couch, I mostly walked, partly weaved down the hallway. I was hoping for a more dramatic, dignified exit, but at least I didn't fall on my ass. Once I cleared the room, I could hear Dean grumbling behind me, and Sam trying to pacify him. I rolled my eyes again and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, Bobby was in the hallway. I closed my eyes for a second and sighed. "Please tell me he didn't send you to check on me," I asked.

Bobby gave me his 'I have no idea what you're talking about' look. "Who?"

I gestured with my head towards the living room. "Mother Dean."

Bobby chuckled. "No, he didn't. I was going to the bathroom. Why? He hovering still?"

"Christ, Bobby, get him to back off, pleeeeeease. I can't take it anymore." I fake-sobbed, to emphasize my point, hoping he'd take pity on me and have a talk with my brother.

"Ha. No dice, missy. I ain't getting in the middle of this. When Dean's in the mood to protect and care, there's no stopping him. You know that."

"And when isn't he in that mood?" I groused, leaning against the wall.

"Good point. You gave us a scare last week, and the effects from the curse are still hanging on. You can't blame him for being worried. We couldn't do anything to help you then, but we can help you now. So just...relax and let him do his thing."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "He did send you."

Bobby straightened and moved past me to the bathroom. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sighing, I shuffled to the kitchen to get some water. I was barely two steps in the room when Dean was at my side.

"I told you I'd get whatever you wanted," he said, walking ahead of me to the cabinets and getting a glass. He had it filled with water and back to me before I took another few steps.

I looked at him. "Seriously. You need to chill out, Dean."

He huffed at me and pressed his palm against my forehead. Frowning, he handed me the glass and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol off the counter. "When you're back to normal, I'll chill out. Until then…" He handed me two white pills, recapping the bottle with the hand holding it.

Sighing yet again, I took the pills and swallowed them along with a healthy drink from the glass before handing it back to him. He set it on the counter and just stood in front of me.

Staring.

"What?" I asked, irritated.

He still stared, eyes searching my face.

"What?" I grated.

He shook his head and placed his hand on the back of my neck. He gently pulled me forward until our foreheads touched.

After a few seconds, I just sighed. He nodded and stood back up. "Now I'm up by ten. Back on the couch you go."

He wrapped an arm around me and walked me back to the living room. Sam looked up as we approached. One look told him I caved to Dean's hovering. He snickered and I flipped him off.

Dean guided me to the couch, this time pulling my head onto his lap. I tucked my feet against Sam's hip, and sighed when I felt Dean's hand in my hair.

I guess there were worse ways to recover from a curse.