They got straight to work. Bobby said he'd found a spell, but the spell itself still needed translating, and the materials needed to be collected. They set up camp in Bobby's library, each with a beer, and each with a book. Sam tried to write everything he was saying so Dean could understand, but more often than not, things inevitably got lost in translation.

Dean found himself having to read the same sentence multiple times in order to understand, as the absence of white noise caused him to get lost in his thoughts. He watched as Bobby suddenly got up and began rummaging in the drawers of the desk, saw Sam look up and ask something. He didn't bother asking what was going on, it was simply too much of a hassle.

Sam waving his attention brought him back to the present. He directed Dean to something he'd written.

'Translation

The bracken from the tree falls fast,

I reverse its affects

Tarry not the consequences'

"Consequences?" Dean said after reading the spell. Sam shrugged, then began writing again.

'The spell hasn't ever been successfully tested. Bobby thinks that's the consequence, that it could be permanent if it doesn't work.'

Dean took a breath and rubbed his temple with his fingers. The odds weren't very promising. But they had to do something...

"Could we summon the witch?" he asked, looking up at Sam. Sam grimaced and shook his head.

'Can't summon witches, they're just humans.'

Of course, Dean already knew that, but he at least needed confirmation that it wasn't possible.

"What about Cas?" he said. Sam leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Dean saw him looking up and mouthing something, then he looked around the room. Dean looked around as well, suddenly remembering that Bobby was behind them. Bobby had paused his search and was glancing around the room, but the angel did not appear.

"Cas, I don't know what Sam just said, but get your feathery ass down here now," he said.

"Forgive me, but I hear many prayers, it sometimes takes me a second to place it."

Dean almost fell out of his chair. Three days of silence was suddenly interrupted by the angel's monotonous voice. He turned in his chair, wide-eyed to see Castiel standing behind him, looking just as expressionless as his voice.

"Cas?!"

"You look surprised, Dean, did you not pray for me?"

Dean could only stare, until Bobby's wordless mouthing brought him back to the present. He turned to Sam.

"I can hear him!" he said. Sam's mouth dropped and he stared at Dean as if he had two heads. 'What?' He mouthed.

"I don't understand, Dean, why would you not be able to hear me?" Cas asked. Bobby went back to sit in his chair.

"There was a spell– a curse," Dean said, "some witch took my hearing. But I can hear you."

Cas tilted his head in confusion, then came forward and placed two fingers to Dean's head. He felt a whoosh of energy, but when Cas retreated, he still heard nothing. He looked up expectantly at Cas.

"Your hearing has been compromised," he stated simply, and Dean had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "This is not something I can fix," he said. Cas's gaze traveled above Dean's head, and Dean turned to see Sam asking a question.

"Whoever cast this curse has a bind on Dean. Because I can't grasp the origin, I have no way of eradicating the symptoms. I assume you can hear me because as an angel, I am able to project my thoughts and ideas as well as voice them."

"You're in my mind?"

"I am not physically in your mind, but yes, I can project my voice into your thoughts."

Cas suddenly looked up towards Sam, and Dean saw him saying something he couldn't read. Cas then went over and looked at the spell Sam had just shown Dean.

"I have not heard of this spell," he said, "what are the consequences?"

Dean watched as Cas had the same conversation with Bobby and Sam, and tried to follow what they were saying, but only made himself more confused.

"Alright, let's just– let's just get this done," Dean finally said. He was met with three blank stares. It was Sam who finally picked up the pencil and began writing.

'Are you sure?'

"Yes," Dean looked up at his brother. "If Cas is saying he can't fix me, and we can't track down the witch, then this is our last option, and I would rather we just get it over with than just sit here thinking about it."

He was getting tired of watching conversations, he missed the sounds from the refrigerator and the creaking floors. He was tired of not being able to hear. Screw the consequences, if there was a chance this would work, he was taking it.

He looked up to see Sam nodding, and writing something else down.

'All we need now is some of your hair.'

Dean reached up a pulled some from his head, handing them to Bobby. He watched as Bobby placed all the ingredients in a bowl and set it on the table. It was like watching a movie on mute. Conversation between Sam and Bobby was lost on Dean, but he somehow was still able to sense Cas's presence behind him. Sam quickly glanced at Dean before he began reading from a book he was holding, and Bobby threw in a lit match.

No sooner did the entire bowl go up in flames then Dean collapsed onto the floor as a searing pain shot through his head and an extremely high pitched noise bombarded his thoughts. No matter how hard he covered his ears with his arms, the earsplitting sound wouldn't let up.

"Dean Winchester, you've tried and failed. Accept the consequences. You've tried and failed. Accept the consequences. Accept the consequences. Accept the consequences…"

The ghostly voice flitted painfully through Dean's ears like static, and he pressed harder against his ears until finally it had stopped.

"Dean,"

Dean felt two fingers on his forehead slip away, and he opened his eyes. Cas was staring worriedly at him. Dean reached up and felt his ears. They didn't hurt anymore, but he heard nothing.

"How do you feel?" Cas said. Sam stood behind Cas, and Bobby behind him, all staring at Dean as if he might combust at any minute. The bowl was upturned on the ground, burnt leaves strewn about on the floor. Dean took a second to wonder how it had gotten there before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and his eyes flashed to Sam. He was saying something. He was saying something that Dean couldn't hear, and Dean knew that he wouldn't ever hear it again. Without another word, he stood up trying not to use the table for support, and left the house.

The spell hadn't worked. He didn't need Sam telling him that, he could figure it out for himself from the deafening silence. This had been they're only chance. His only chance, and now he was deaf. Freaking deaf. Was he supposed to just take that sitting down?

Sam had said it would work, he'd done the research. They'd both done the research, and not only had it not worked, but they were back at square one with nothing else to go off of. It had only been a couple of days, but he was tired of only getting the ends of conversations, having to read off of napkin corners, not being able to regulate the volume of his own freaking voice.

He needed to leave, to drive. It didn't matter where or how long, but he needed to be alone in the Impala with the windows down going ten miles over the speed limit. What he didn't need was Sam's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, trying to get him to turn around.

Without stopping, without even thinking, Dean turned around, put all of his pent up rage behind his fist, and thrust it at Sam's face. He watched Sam stumble to the side and bring a hand up to his eye.

It hadn't felt good. It felt wrong, and it only made him more mad. He started to turn back toward the car when he saw Sam waving at him, and saying something. Mouthing something. But not being able to understand only continued to fuel the animalistic rage bubbling inside of him, and he punched Sam again.

Sam immediately brought his hand up to his face, holding his jaw. He glared at Dean, but didn't say anything. Dean glared back, until Sam's fist was connecting with his face, and he was seeing stars.

It was as if all sense of balance had left him. One minute he was standing, and the next, he was tipping over, his arm colliding painfully with the ground. He pushed himself up, dazed, and shook his head to clear the dizziness. A blow like that wouldn't normally have brought him to the ground. Then again, a blow like that probably wouldn't normally have come at such a surprise either.

Sam looked horrified down at him, and immediately reached out a hand to help him up. But Dean scrambled back until he was against the car, and used it to pull himself up.

"Can you just give me a freaking minute, Sam?" Dean exclaimed.

Sam flinched, cupping his face protectively with his hand. His nose had already started to bleed, and he eye was definitely going to bruise by the morning.

Breathing heavily, Dean turned back around and pulled the keys from his jacket. He watched Sam watching him leave, and he gunned the engine once he was on the road, feeling the accelerator's vibration, and knowing he'd left a noise.