Dean was running circles around Sam when they got back to their room. They cleaned up in record time but when they were through Dean just couldn't will himself to keep still. He was bouncing as he sat on his knees in the middle of the bed trying with every fiber of his being to focus on the TV. Sam was sitting in a chair, mouth hanging open as he stared at his brother in disbelief.
"Dude, you haven't stopped moving in an hour," he snapped in annoyance.
"I can't help it," Dean whipped. "I feel like my skin's crawling. My hands are even shaking," he said a little too quickly, voice jumping with each bounce.
"No more coffee," Sam stated flatly. Dean nodded sporadically in agreement, eyes wide and nearly black from caffeine blown pupils. He looked like a hyper-active puppy trying to catch its tail.
A few hours later Bobby arrived. He stopped in his tracks after catching sight of the small boy curled up in a knot, asleep on one of the beds. Dean's hair was sticking up every which way and his thumb was in his mouth. Bobby was speechless as he approached the bed, unable to take his eyes off the boy.
"He passed out about thirty minutes ago," Sam sighed. "He drank some coffee and it may as well have been crack with the way he was acting. I guess he finally crashed."
"Y-you idjits have done it now," Bobby stuttered, trying to find his voice. "I don't know who or what you boys pissed off this time but it can't be good," he barked, shaking his head. Dean began to stir, eyes fluttering open. Shining jade peeked out from beneath dark lashes and his jaw hinged in a yawn.
"Bobby?" Dean mumbled around his thumb. He quickly realized what he had been doing and dropped his hand with a jerk, wiping his thumb on his clothes. "Did you find out anything?" he groaned, back arching into a stretch.
"Not yet," Bobby frowned. "Nothing turned up in the room or your car?" Both boys shook their heads in response. "Damn!" he huffed.
"There's no sign of anything unusual going on within fifty miles of here," Sam cut in. "What the hell's going on Bobby?"
"Well, I have some ideas but I can't say for sure…" Bobby grabbed an old leather book from his bag and started flipping through the yellowed pages. "This could be the work of a witch, a curse…" he started as he scanned the text, "…maybe a trickster…" he trailed off.
"I guess all we can do now is look for any kind of evidence," Sam sighed. "Try to figure out what this is and if we can fix it." He ran a hand through his hair.
"So I'm freaking stuck this way?" Dean shrieked.
"For now anyway," said Bobby.
"Look at me! What the hell am I supposed to do?" he spazzed.
"Calm down Dean. We'll figure this out," Sam replied softly.
"We'll figure this out? I can't even open a fucking beer! How the hell can I even help you guys with anything?" he whined. His foot was stomping again and his bottom lip quivered, hot tears spilling down chubby freckled cheeks. "Damn it! What the hell is wrong with me?" screamed Dean as he rubbed the tears from his face. He took a few deep breaths to collect himself.
"Well, that was different," said Bobby after a few seconds, eyebrows raised.
"Bite me!" chirped Dean. "Let's just get to work. The faster I'm me again the better."