Chapter 2

Dean cranked up the radio, 'Thunderstruck' playing obnoxiously loud in the relatively small confines of the Impala. Sam scowled at his brother as he refolded the map, trying to follow the route they were taking whilst also being able to see where they were going. He shifted again as he tried to stop the map from blocking too much of the windshield so Dean could see the road too; a small voice in the back of head asked him why he even bothered when Dean took a swipe at the map, pushing it out of his way, nearly ripping it in the process.

"Dean!" he complained.

"What?" came his brother's voice, dripping in innocence.

"You know what!"

"I don't know what! What?" Dean flashed a devil-may-care grin in his direction, his eyes dancing, thoroughly enjoying winding his brother up, causing Sam to frown. Wasn't it the little brother's prerogative to do the winding up?

Sam gritted his teeth at his brother's teasing; sometimes it was like Dean was six years old. A part of him rejoiced however that Dean could still be so carefree and goddamn annoying when he felt like it after everything that had happened in recent years. Sometimes it was only that thought that stopped Sam from throwing Dean's entire collection of cassettes out the window to stop Dean from playing them as if they were listening to them from about a thousand miles away; well, that and the fact that Dean would have him hung, drawn and quartered if he knew Sam was even contemplating such a heinous crime. So, self-preservation winning out on this occasion, Sam refocused his attention back on the map, knee jiggling in his concentration.

"We've got about another 500 miles til we cross the state-line, then I'd say we've only got another 20 minutes or so from there."

Dean sighed in pleasure, sinking more deeply into the leather seat. He smoothed his hand along the steering wheel in an almost-caress, smirking once again in Sam's direction. "Excellent. Plenty of time on the road with my baby."

Sam made a fake retching noise, causing Dean to slug him in the arm hard enough to bruise.

Dean laughed at Sam's indignant glare as he rubbed his arm, watching as Sam fought to keep his face a mask of displeasure. It didn't last long though, one of Sam's sunny-smiles breaking out in the face of Dean's good mood.

"You wanna run why we're going to New Jersey by me again?" Dean asked, turning his attention back to the road, casually readjusting his lax grip on the wheel.

"Not really," Sam shrugged, folding up the map and choosing instead to gaze passively out of the passenger window, mentally counting down to Dean's retort.

"Ok, let me rephrase that. Tell me what's going on in Princeton, bitch."

Sam's mouth twitched at Dean's use of the nickname from their younger years.

"Well since you asked so nicely…"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for Sam to continue, or else.

"You know how we've been keeping a look-out for those cursed objects from the list we created a year or so back after collating Dad's, Bobby's and Rufus' intel?"

Dean nodded with a look that clearly said 'yes, I do remember thank you very much, now would you kindly get to the point?'

"Well, the Sahara Diamond? It's jumped back up on the radar."

"What? The necklace that sucks people dry until they're basically just giant prunes?" Dean interjected, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye as he carefully navigated the hairpin turn in the road, causing Sam to grimace at the image Dean's colourful description brought to mind.

"That's the one."

"Didn't Bobby pick up a case to do with that sucker when we were tearing the country apart looking for Dad?"

"Yeah, it vanished though, before he could destroy it. He flagged it up but it hasn't resurfaced until now."

Sam shifted in his seat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the print-out of the report he'd found on the recent acquisition and re-housing of the diamond from a university press release. Unfolding the paper, Sam glanced over the photograph of the necklace which held the diamond, sitting pride of place in a fancy display cabinet; it was a stunning piece with an interesting history, a prestigious acquisition for any establishment, nasty deaths notwithstanding.

Many centuries ago the necklace had been forged using a diamond created over millennia previous from the sands of the Sahara, and gifted to the princess of the Sahara tribe by a wealthy suitor; over the coming months they courted and she fell deeply in love with the man. She soon discovered however he was also pursuing her attendant in secret and she was watching as he crept into her royal quarters one night to steal back the necklace to present to his new love; furious at the betrayal the princess exiled the pair, leaving them stranded in the desert with no food or water in punishment for their crimes, before turning her dagger upon herself in her despair. Just before plunging the blade into her stomach she called upon the ancient gods to curse all those who sought to take the diamond from her, condemning them to a death such as the one suffered by the first who dared to steal from her.

When her tomb was unearthed the necklace was taken as an historic artefact, being passed from collection to collection, from private owner to museum curator, down through the years, leaving a trail of horrific deaths in its wake. It would appear that the legends were correct and the diamond could indeed unleash the power of the Sahara upon its unsuspecting owner; there had been cases over the past decades of people dying of dehydration with a bottle of water clutched in their hands, skin blackened and charred, shrivelled and shrunken bodies having been drained of every last drop, sand pouring from their mouths. Bobby had shown Sam photographs of the body he had investigated down in Milwaukee in connection with the diamond and he hadn't been able to eat for the rest of the day. He'd seen some pretty gruesome things during his hunting life but that image still made him gag at the thought of it.

It hadn't been heard of for years, no strange deaths which could be attributed to it, but now it seemed a professor in charge of his university's collection had purchased it, less than a week ago, from goodness knows where. They didn't know how long the curse took to come into effect so Sam and Dean were making all haste to Princeton University to hopefully save one Professor Brokowitz and to put an end to the diamond's evil once and for all.

"So what's our angle? Dress up in the monkey suits and persuade Brokowitz to sell the bling to us and then we destroy it, or..."

"No," replied Sam slowly, chewing on his lip as he considered the options. "I'm thinking after the amount he paid for it, he's not going to be wanting to sell it in a hurry, not even for a profit. And anyway, no matter how good you claim your hustling skills are, even you wouldn't be able to scare up $3,000,000."

Dean whistled in awe, "Who'd pay that for some dead chick's jewellery?"

"It seems he really wants it as part of the university collection; apparently the auction was brutal."

Dean scoffed, snatching the picture from Sam, holding it up over the wheel so he could look at it whilst he drove. "Ugly piece of crap if you ask me. If some guy had given me this to persuade me to go out with him I'd have had him exiled and put a curse on the damn thing too!"

Sam turned to his brother, a disbelieving grin on his face, eyebrows arched high in amusement. Swallowing down his laughter, he waited until Dean realised what he'd said. Dean looked at him in confusion at the sudden scrutiny and Sam smiled as he watched the cogs turning in Dean's brain, replaying the conversation his head; the moment of realisation was clear to see in the horrified expression on his face. Snapping his mouth shut, with an audible click, Dean coughed, turning back to the road, grumbling, "You know what I mean."

Sam couldn't hold it in any longer, letting loose a chuckle which only increased in volume at Dean's indignant scowl.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up!" Dean grouched, screwing up Sam's precious report and slinging it at him, hitting him in the forehead before bouncing down the side of the seat.

Sam's only response was to laugh even louder, enjoying his brother's embarrassment.

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean said loudly, trying to get the conversation back on track. "So if we're not gonna fake-buy it from him, what are we going to do, steal it?"

Taking deep breaths Sam tried to calm himself down and focus on what Dean was saying.

"Well, yeah, actually."

"What? Saint Sammy is condoning, nay, advocating the theft of a historical artefact from an institution of learning?!" Dean teased in his best disapproving 'professor' impression.

"Well, considering the said artefact is killing people then yes, yes I am!"

"Great!" Dean exclaimed, snapping back to his normal voice. "I love a good robbery. We haven't done a good old-fashioned burglary in way too long." The excitement on Dean's face was so obvious, Sam just knew that if he wasn't driving his older brother would probably be rubbing his hands together in glee right now.

"A day doesn't go by without us stealing Mr. ..." Sam snagged Dean's wallet from his jacket pocket, pulling out his current credit card, brandishing it at Dean to emphasise his point, "...Scott."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Dean snatched the card back, pocketing it, "That doesn't count. I'm talking black clothes, security systems, sneaking down corridors..."

"You're a geek," Sam interrupted matter-of-factly, ignoring Dean's offended glare. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think we can get the information we need about where it's kept, any security precautions they've got on it, things like that, from the professor's student assistant..."

"Good call," Dean agreed. "Keep Brokowitz in the dark about the whole thing, until we're far away and the diamond is dust. I don't wanna to be running from the cops again; I've had enough of that for ten lifetimes."

"You and me both," Sam agreed as he fished blindly down the side of the seat to find the report. Scooping it out from where it had wedged itself, he uncrumpled it and smoothed it out as best he could. Turning it the right way up, he scanned the account for the name he was looking for.

"Nathan...Nathan Jenkins seems to be our guy. I'll see if I can pull up his contact details when we stop for food."

"Was that a not-so-subtle hint to tell me that you're hungry?"

"No."

"Well, too bad. Because I am. Wanna stop at the next diner?"

"So long as it's not covered in quite as many layers of grease as the last one," Sam complained.

"I'll see what I can do princess," Dean smirked, revving the engine to get them there faster, content to enjoy the company of his brother and the soft purr of his baby in the meantime.

Chapter 3 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)