Disclaimer: "Oh no! Lord above! There is no disclaimer here! I think I will sue!"

"Wait! Oh sweet Mother of God, I see it, I see it!"

"Where? Gee, I can't seem to find it, will you help me?"

"No. Go to Chapter 1 and look at it. And it's one pretty disclaimer if I've ever seen one too!"

Chapter 4 – Jokes and Songs

"No way, dad! Absolutely no way!"

"Sam, it's what Jim was telling us to do. We don't do this, everyone's gonna die."

"There has to be another way, we've still got four days left, we'll find another way."

"No, Sam, there is no other way-"

"Look," interrupted Dean looking at his brother, "dad says there's a way to send me to Hell temporarily… and I'm willing to try it, if it means that some freak devil won't use my face to kill everybody else."

Sam stared from Dean to his father as if they had gone completely insane.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean tried, smiling at his little brother, "it's just like any other gig, only this time instead of them bugging the hell out of us, we'll bug the hell out of them. It'll be okay, you'll see. Plus, if I don't try, you know what's gonna happen? Exactly the same thing that will happen if I fail, so we don't lose anything by giving it a shot."

Sam looked down, unconvinced. He hated letting Dean go on his own. He hated his father's lack of concern and excess of focus on the task and most of all he hated his psychic abilities for showing him that dream. But he had clearly lost the battle; when his father and brother decided to do something, there was no way to make them rethink their options.

"Dean, I saw what's gonna happen to you… I told you both already! It's gonna do the same thing it did to you two months ago in Missouri, and this time, how do we know if the wounds-"

"Wounds are the least of our worries right now," said John looking through one of the books Sam had brought back from Jim Murphy's office. "Turns out your books were pretty useful after all, Sammy."

"What are you saying, dad? How can a wound like that be 'the least of our worries'?" demanded Sam, and both brothers stared at their father quizzically; Sam worried out of his mind, Dean simply curious.

"Look, it says here," he pointed with his index finger somewhere in the middle of one of the yellowing pages. Dean and Sam approached to stand behind at either side of their father. "It says that because only his soul, and not the body, would be sent to Hell, any injury suffered there shouldn't affect the body."

"Where are you reading that?" asked Dean trying to focus his eyes on the ancient indecipherable writing.

"It's in Latin," explained Sam.

"Oh… right, I thought I was going blind now too…so uh… how do I get back up here?"

"Once you've got the necklace you will return immediately to the spot where you appeared at first. You have to get back in less than an hour, though," he said reading further down the text.

"I thought you wanted me to kill this demon."

"No. Not in his own territory. Dean," he added looking straight into his son's hazel eyes. "I mean it, get back to that spot right after you get the necklace back. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," he replied automatically.

"What if Dean for some reason can't make it back before one hour?" asked Sam suddenly. Dean had been thinking about that too but hadn't wanted to ask assuming what the answer would be.

John didn't reply for a while and looked from Sam to Dean.

"Just make it back before that, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he repeated.

"Anyway, you boys should rest tonight; according to the book we can't start this spell until 06 in the morning with 06 minutes and 06 seconds exactly," he added. "That gives us almost twelve hours. I'll wake you up at five to set everything up."

With that, he left his boys' room and walked towards his own next door. Though worried as he was, it would be the first time he'd have a good night's sleep in a long time.

Sam's carefree laughter was so loud he thought the entire motel would hear it.

"Man, that's so messed up!" he exclaimed cheerfully, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I know, right? I swear that chick was insane," chuckled Dean, concluding the anecdote he had just shared with Sam. Their father had left them alone fifteen minutes ago and although they were both lying in their respective beds, exhausted and with the lights off, neither truly wanted to sleep. It was something they had always done before an important day as a way to calm their nerves. And in this case, as it had been before other dangerous hunts, to spend quality time with each other just in case something went wrong.

They had never admitted it of course. They had never even talked about this habit even though they had been doing it for as long as they could remember. Both had been relieved to find that the routine hadn't died away after Sam's two years in Stanford.

It had a couple of unspoken rules, such as no paranormal topics allowed and no saying "good night" or "we should sleep" either. The talk would stop on its own, slowly fading away as each brother fell comfortably asleep.

Calming down his laughter, Sam remembered a similar story.

"You know, once in Stanford," he began, "well- the thing is Jess always had a pretty bad temper, it was damn easy to get her pissed and she would always pace around the room shouting to herself and doing these growling noises… it was the funniest thing. So one day, she couldn't find this skirt she wanted to wear and so she started doing all that again and saying something about how her friends always stole her clothes and never gave them back, so I got the camera when she wasn't looking and left it filming on the night stand in our room where she was looking for the skirt. Later I was like, 'Jess, you gotta see this,' so we watched the video and we just couldn't stop laughing… all you could see was Jess going in and out of the shot freakin'… striding from one side of the room to the other mumbling how irresponsible her friends were and growling randomly… ah good times…" he said between his own nostalgic chuckles and his brother's laughter. "And like, anyway, it turned out she had thrown the skirt under the bed the last time she'd worn it."

Dean had to try to control his own loud laughter at this point because his chest had started to hurt agonizingly again.

"Oh, God the girls we go out with," he commented making both of them laugh lightly.

"Hey, Dean," said Sam after the chuckles had died out.

"Yeah?"

"Take care tomorrow, alright? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Whoa, wait, does that mean I should run into a fire because the 'demon's still in there' and then when I'm dead say something like 'I could have taken him'?" asked Dean imitating his younger brother's voice and chuckling weakly. He could feel Sam's dark eyes glaring at him even though he couldn't see them. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'll be okay. And I promise that unlike some other people I won't try anything stupid."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Unknowingly, they mirrored each other's smirk and fell asleep at peace.

Sam woke up a couple of hours later for no apparent reason. Or so it seemed until he noticed his brother's bed was empty. Panicking, he jumped out of bed only to hear a voice singing from the little living room that was separated from their bedroom by a thin wall. The voice was definitely Dean's. He had turned on the radio and one of his old favorites, Dust in the Wind by Kansas was playing at a very low volume. Dean was melodically singing along like Sam had never witnessed before.

Usually, Dean would fast forward this song in his Impala because he said he needed something more energetic for the road. If he ever sang along to any other classic rock song, although surprisingly melodiously and on tune, he had usually done it loudly and carelessly to annoy Sam or to make him laugh by singing him an extremely romantic verse in a melodramatic tone.

His singing had never made Sam feel so calm, safe and soothed like it did now. Wishing it to continue, he stayed hidden behind the door listening to his every word, every change in tune, and every breath he took to sing the next words.

Finally, Sam decided to open the door and found his brother lying on the couch, arms folded over his wound in the same way he had done in the abandoned house in Missouri. His eyes were closed in a pained expression, but he kept singing until he reached the end of the song. Sam realized Dean was using the song as a distraction against the pain and he knew he needed his painkillers immediately, but he didn't dare interrupt him.

Only did he walk into his older brother when the song was completely over.

"C'mon, Dean, let's get you back to bed."

Dean moaned loudly, not even bothering to open his eyes as Sam pulled him up. His fever had risen again and he was shivering uncontrollably.

"Just a couple of steps, your bed's right there, Dean. Then you can have the painkillers and you'll be as good as new." Finally, he managed to get a half-conscious Dean in bed, gave him his usual painkillers, put a damp towel on his forehead and went back to his own bed. However, his brother's voice made him turn back to kneel on the floor next to Dean's head.

"Sammy…" whispered Dean in his delirious state, "remember… remember that I used to sing that to you whenever you were scared? I think you were about two… and it always made you calm down no matter what was worrying you… I always tried to imitate singing whatever dad listened to and you just seemed to like that song… I wish-"

"Shhh… you need to sleep now-"

"I wish things could go back to the way they were before… with mom and without demons…"

"So do I, Dean, so do I."

Sam lay on his bed unable to remember about what Dean had just told him, but he believed him even if he was raving because of the fever. He knew it was true because after almost an entire year of fear and uncertainty, he had felt completely safe at that moment only by hearing his brother's soothing voice.

Sleep proved to be impossible until Dean began breathing more regularly and only then Sam began counting the rise and fall of his brother's chest forty times before sleeping again.

A/N: Yeah shortish, I know, but hey. Not much action either, but I thought it would be nice to add a little normality to these poor boys' screwed up lives... especially considering what's coming up in later chapters. Last night I finished writing chapter 7 and I think it will end with chapter 8, though you never know what might go through my freaky head as I write it and maybe I'll change the original idea completely cuz that happened like majorly as I wrote chapter 7. Anyway, thanks a lot for your reviews, I still love them more than I love your mom. Yeah. Thank you so much for reading my story and your little comments and nice or not so nice words are obviously still very much appreciated, so please keep reviewing!

Random Note: English exams today. My favorite. :(