"C...Cosaint." Sam choked a little on the words. It was so hard to speak. He felt dizzy.

"Coamhu," Dean said, nudging him. "Come on, Sammy."

"Coamhu." Sam repeated, glassy eyed.

"Didean."

"Di...agh!" a scream ripped from Sam's throat as as Ellis placed the rock on his stomach, a few inches below his navel. He bucked and tried to twist away, but she pinned his hips with her hands. It burned. It felt impossibly heavy and Sam fought it as he felt something begin to pull out of him toward the stone. The energy moved like half frozen syrup and pulled agonizingly at every inch of him as it slid down.

Sam let out a sob and tried to pull away. Dean and Ellis both held strong.

"Stop!" He cried.

"It's helping you, honey." Ellis said urgently. "It's pulling the hex out of you."

"No!" Sam didn't even know what he was protesting.

Dean's voice was calm but forceful. "Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean."

Sam couldn't repeat the words. His mind was a white hot wash of agony and fear.

"Dean!" he cried.

"Sammy." Dean's calloused hands moved to Sam's face. He leaned in close and gave him a gentle shake. "Say it." Dean said. "Say it."

"Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean!" Sam sobbed the phrase and for a horrible moment the pain flared and then abruptly, it broke free and slid into the stone that lay below his heaving, panting stomach. He went limp.

"Sammy!" Dean cried.

"Dean," Ellis put her hand on his arm. He whirled as if stung. His face was streaked with tears.

"He's okay," she said. "He's okay."

Dean's knees buckled and he slid to the floor beside his brother's bed. He dropped his head back onto the mattress, breathing shallowly. "Tell me its over," he said, his eyes closed.

Ellis put her hand on Sam's well-muscled chest and slid it down to his pelvis, where she picked up the stone.

"It's over," she said, tossing the stone into the ring of salt. She knelt down to Dean's height and took him by the arms.

Dean opened his green eyes and picked his head up to look at her. "Never mind me. Take care of Sam."

"He's unconscious, honey."

' ''M fine."

Ellis leaned closer and very tenderly pressed a kiss against the older Winchester's forehead. He tensed and winced, almost like it hurt him.

"What..."he asked, confused.

"You look as bad as he does." She studied the stress lines on his handsome face and wanted to erase them all. There was a horrible irony that Dean Winchester never seem to crumble under blows, but a bit of tenderness set him on edge. She stood up and turned her attention to Sam, leaving Dean to collect himself.

"Is he going to be alright?" Dean asked from his spot on the floor.

"Yes." She said. "Possibly a little tired and sore from his ordeal tonight, but nothing permanent."

"Thank you." She looked down to see him staring up at her without guile or artifice. He was impossibly angelic looking like that, almost beautiful, even if he was distinctly masculine.

"You're welcome, Dean." She put her hand on his shoulder. "When you want to get off the floor, the couch is right there. I'll grab you a pillow."

Dean grabbed her hand and pressed his lips briefly to the back of it. There was nothing sexual about his demonstration, just a brief unbridled affection. It was all the payment she needed. When he let go, she made sure to drag her fingers lightly through the short cropped hair as she walked away.


Sam lazily opened his eyes.

"Well hello, sweetheart." A thin blonde woman walked over to him, her voice quiet. She was older, somewhere in her late 30's, pleasant featured and wearing no make-up.

Sam blinked, shifted and immediately regretted the movement.

"Take it easy." She sat on a chair she had pulled next to his bedside and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam's expression registered puzzlement.

"That hex hit you good. You're probably not going to feel great for a while."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm sorry. I don't remember who you are?"

She smiled, reached over to brush his bangs off of his forehead. She did it with familiarity, Sam noticed, as if she'd done it a hundred times before. "You wouldn't." Her voice was still soft.

"Where-"

"You're at my place."

"-is Dean?" Sam finished.

She smiled. "He's asleep on the couch just over there." She saw the relief register in the hazel blue eyes.

"I'm Ellis," she told him. "I'm an old friend of Dean and your dad's."

"Hi," he said with a weak smile.

Her hand went to his hair again. "You hungry?"

"Thirsty," Sam replied.

She reached over to the stand and handed him a glass of water. "Figured you might be."

Sam took the glass and tried to prop himself up on one shoulder. He was so sore. She put an arm behind his back and helped him hold his weight as he took a few deep swallows. "That's it. Not to much. We don't need you barfing up water." She took the cup away and he collapsed back on to the mattress. "You've been through a lot. I think you're going to need a few days."

"Yeah." Sam replied honestly. "That was... horrible. Really... horrible. I can't think of another word for it." There was an indefinable softness about the younger Winchester that neither John nor Dean possessed, something the harshness of his existence had not yet erased.

"Dean is fine?" He asked abruptly.

She smiled. "Yes, he is. Except for worrying about you."

"Normally he's a light sleeper. I thought he'd have heard us by now."

"I drugged his tea."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise and then a slow smile crept across his face, revealing a flash of dimples. He snorted.

"He's been worried sick and I know I can't talk any sense into him... so well, he'll sleep now at least."

"Good. " Sam nodded to himself. " Wish I had a way to drug him myself sometimes. He's a pain in the ass."

"That he is." Ellis leaned forward and encircled Sam's wrist with her fingers. Sam felt her settle on one of his pulse points and she stilled, counting in time with her watch. After a minute she seemed satisfied. Instead of releasing her grip, she slid down to Sam's palm and twined her fingers with his. Sam's face registered surprise at the tenderness of the gesture.

She looked sad. "Its okay." She said softly. "Relax, Sam." She squeezed him again.

Slowly, and very unlike Dean, Sam relaxed and squeezed back with a soft "Thank you."

"Anytime, honey. I'm just happy you're feeling better." Sam turned his head sideways and caught sight of Dean's form sprawled across the couch at the far end of the room. The visual soothed him a little further. Ellis' thumb caressed the back of his hand. He started to feel drowsy. His blue green eyes fluttered closed and he surrendered to sleep.


"Sammy."

Sometime later, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean leaning over him. His brother looked disheveled and groggy.

"Hey," Dean said with the smile as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Hey." Sam replied hoarsely. He realized someone had covered him with a blanket. He pulled it down a bit and looked at his brother. "You look like hell."

"Ditto." Dean replied, still scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm so freaking tired." He shook his head. "I feel like I want to sleep for a year."

Sam started to sit up and groaned. He felt sorer then before if that was possible and his bladder told him that he needed to use the bathroom. He leaned up against the headboard and looked balefully at Dean. "Then why don't you sleep, Dean?"

The older Winchester shrugged. "I just woke up and I kind of wanted to make sure that you were okay. I mean really okay."

"I'm okay." Sam replied. "Really."

Dean nodded. "Okay, cause you were in a pretty bad way."

Sam locked gazes with him. "Really," he said and even though his tone was quiet, his eyes were strong and clear.

Dean nodded. "Okay." He stood up and a half-reeled into the wall.

"Jesus, Dean." Sam said.

"Dean, honey." Ellis's feminine voice cut the silence. She rounded the corner and put her arm around the older Winchester to steady him. "You need to go back to bed."

"'M fine."

"You're so full of shit. Go to sleep."

"I don't know why I'm so tired."

Ellis glanced over to Sam and gave him a wink. He suppressed a smile. "Because when people need sleep there's this weird phenomenon where they become tired."

"Ha. Almost funny." Dean said.

"Lie down and let me help your brother to the bathroom." Dean dropped back to the couch. He swatted away her hand as she tried to cover him with a blanket.

"I'm fine."

She walked over to Sam who was already climbing out of bed. She moved to help him. "I'm fine," he said.

"Jesus! Is this a family motto?"

Sam's dimples flashed. "Yeah. I think so."

"Okay," she pointed to the right. "Bathroom is over there." Hovering by his elbow, she kept in tandem with his halting stride.

"Ellis," Sam said. "No offense, but even if I do fall I weigh a couple hundred pounds. What are you 120?"

"118."

Sam snorted. "I'm going to crush you if you catch me. Plus," he said, bracing himself against the bathroom door frame and smiling warmly. "I'm fine."

He winked at her.

He was ultimately okay. Dean was okay, if a bit groggy. They seemed safe with a friend. This was the Winchester definition of a victory. Everyone alive and in one piece.

He was fine. He gave her a dimpled smile and closed the door.

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