Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine. Nothing of Edgar Allan Poe's is mine either. I merely found the toys in the toy box and thought up an adventure.


[October 6th, 2007]

Dean walked slowly, his face a mask of intense concentration, as he wound his way through the aisles of the 24 hour convenience store. In all honesty, Dean Winchester was focusing intently; in fact, he was pinning all of his thoughts on what he needed to purchase just to keep himself awake and aware of his surroundings. His observational skills, honed to near perfection thanks to his hunting lifestyle, were rendered practically useless at this point. He was simply that tired.

Dean narrowly avoided the corner of some shelving, his body turning awkwardly in his fatigue, as he headed down the next aisle; his boots practically scraped out his path as he dragged his feet along the ground. A yawn caught him by surprise somewhere in the vicinity of the paper goods and he raised a fist to his mouth to quell the noise of it. He blinked a few times, clearing his vision of the moisture that had popped up during his yawn, and snagged some plastic utensils that were tossed haphazardly into the basket in his hand.

A large clock at the front of the store caught his eye from over the tops of some boxes on top of the shelf and he groaned inwardly as he read the time. It was already 5:30am and he had yet to sleep. Then again, with his brother warring with some kind of supernatural virus, there was no way Dean would've been able to get some shut eye even if he tried. Sam had been so delirious with fever that Dean had done everything from cold showers to ice treatments to keep his temperature down. It was starting to get to the point that he wasn't sure if Sam should even be in the motel anymore.

For the time being, however, the fever was under control and Dean knew Sam was sleeping peacefully. He just didn't know how long that would last. A grimace marred his features as unbidden memories flooded his mind's eye. The elder Winchester knew all too well what it was like to wake up to an empty room; he was very familiar with the feeling of helpless vulnerability and had become best friends with the paranoia that could creep into one's mind with the worry of something slipping through the shadows and attacking. Of course, for their lifestyle, it was something to be expected.

It was true, though. Dean had dealt with those feelings on more occasions than he cared to remember and he would be damned if his little brother ever had to endure it himself.

The basket in the older Winchester's hand was already heavy with Gatorade, crackers and some more M&Ms when he found himself perusing the canned soups. His eyes flitted over the labels, not really taking in their letters, as he worked to squash the anxiety leeching into his system.

Get a grip, Dean, he thought, Grab what you need and go. Sam'll be fine 'til you get back.

It was hard, but Dean managed to push aside his protective older brother instincts. He knew Sam wasn't completely helpless. Hell, Sam had plenty of water within arm's reach and he was old enough to get himself more Tylenol if he needed it. Dean shrugged the tension from his shoulders as an image of his brother floated through his mind; he saw him laughing and smiling with only the carefree innocence that childhood could provide.

Sam was a long ways away from that now and Dean knew it. Sam Winchester was an adult - no longer completely innocent, no longer helpless and definitely no longer laughing and smiling with carefree joy. But to Dean, he would always be his little brother Sammy. Always.

"Whiny, little bitch too," Dean muttered under his breath.

A faint blush colored his cheeks as the words slipped out with more affection than he had intended and he glanced around self consciously. He was suddenly very grateful that it was so early in the day and no customers were within the store's confines with him.

He grabbed a few cans of chicken noodle soup and added them to the basket. They had been Sam's request in the few minutes of coherency he had had before he had fallen asleep. Dean had been relieved when his brother had snapped out of his trance like state following his delirium. He had even gone as far as to drop his fork full of stir fry back into the plastic container it had come in with complete shock.

Dean stood in the soup aisle, fingers skimming along the tin cylinders as the entire two minutes with Sam drifted through his thoughts.

"Dean?"

"Take it easy, Sammy. I'm right here."

Dean practically tripped over himself to get to his brother's side. He hated himself for showing his weakness and obvious concern, but his brother had that effect on him. He always had and he probably always would.

He watched as Sam wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and frowned at the sticky friction that the motion across his fevered brow created.

"It's Sam," his brother grumped.

Dean smiled weakly, amused and relieved that his brother was back for the time being. He didn't know how long it would last, though, and that set the gnawing sensation of worry to work away at his stomach again.

"How you feeling?"

"Pretty shitty," Sam replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.

Although Sam wasn't one to downplay his symptoms to the degree that Dean did, he also wasn't one to exaggerate them either. Dean scanned his brother and knew that if Sam felt like crap, he was being completely and truly honest.

"You smell pretty shitty too," Dean replied in a half hearted attempt to make Sam laugh. He only let a chuckle leave his lips after one tumbled from Sam's.

There was a strain in Sam's voice as he tried to force himself into a sitting position, only giving up after he wasn't able to lift himself more than a couple inches from where he lay.

"Yea, but I'm sick or whatever, Dean. What's your excuse?"

"Bite me," Dean shot back. He knew it was the expected response and was happy to see Sam smile almost imperceptibly before he draped an arm over his eyes.

Dean was at the register, unloading his basket, without realizing it at first. His eyes met the cashiers, a middle aged man that eyed Dean warily, as if he were expecting him to pull out a gun.

"Quiet morning, huh?" Dean asked with a friendly smile.

The man's eyebrows knitted together in response, his face clearly denoting that Dean had crossed a line. The smile adorning the Winchester's face faded as he dropped his gaze and removed the last few items from his basket before placing on top of the pile of other baskets near his feet. The beep of the register scanner met his ears and he let his mind drift again.

"C'mon, just one round?"

Dean wanted to cave in, especially the way his brother was begging him with that damn puppy dog look of his, but he knew Sam needed to sleep before he had another fit.

"Tell you what," Dean started, checking his pocket for his keys, "You sleep now, I'll get you your soup and we'll play that stupid game when I get back."

Sam's eyes met his and Dean was shocked to find a bit of resentment there. Then again, Dean realized, he was also employing a technique that he hadn't had to use since Sam was a kid - bargaining. Sam hated it when he was a kid, so why wouldn't he hate it now that he was an adult?

Suddenly, Sam's gaze shifted emotions and Dean found himself pierced with a glance that said so much more. Sam wasn't upset that Dean had compromised with him; Sam looked scared and anxious, as if he knew something that couldn't wait to long to be shared.

"As long as you promise you'll wake me up when you get back."

Dean nodded, "Promise, Sammy."

He watched as Sam nodded and closed his eyes. He surveyed his brother for a few more moments after that, trying to figure out the hidden message in his brother's eyes. Dean had the sneaking suspicion that his brother's idea to play the game was a tool to tell him something much more important. It's how they used to pass information back and forth without their Dad knowing what they were up to when they were kids. It couldn't be that much different now.

Then Dean started to think, forcing his sleep deprived brain to function despite its pleas for sleep. Maybe whatever was plaguing his brother was intelligent. Maybe it was smart enough to keep Sam from tattling on it too. Dean left the room shortly thereafter, but only after Sam's chest rose and fell evenly for a few minutes and he knew that he was sound asleep.

"Eighteen, forty-seven."

The soft quality of the obviously gruff man before him startled Dean. He went to his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and let his fingers scrape together a ten and some singles. Dean glanced up with slight embarrassment as he emptied the worn leather wallet. His reserves were running low due to the fact that his plans to go out and hustle some cash had been put on hold with Sam's precarious situation.

He was surprised when the man's visage morphed from hostile to something akin to sympathy. He was even more surprised when the man that had shut down on him mere moments before began to speak.

"Takin' care of someone sick?"

Dean nodded, throwing down eighteen dollars worth of paper bills as he fished through his pockets for the change. The man started to put the goodies Dean had picked up into a paper bag that crinkled as the man handled it.

Two quarters rattled away on the counter top as the cashier swiped up the bills and counted his payment. He nodded in sad understanding as he punched away at the register. Dean grabbed the lip of the bag and dragged it towards himself as the cash drawer opened and the man stuffed his pay inside.

Dean was out the door before the man had a chance to give him his change.

+SUPERNATURAL+

The purr of the Impala stuttered to a stop as Dean turned the key in the ignition. He let out a tense sigh and let his head loll back against the seat for a moment. He couldn't afford to dawdle in case Sam was awake or worse, but he needed a moment to collect himself. Being this tired only ever served to get his emotions dangerously close to the surface and the current point in time was no exception.

With a rush of determination, Dean pulled himself up straight before he grabbed his groceries and hauled the driver's side door open. He knew Sam was probably fine and sleeping like he should be. However, he also knew he needed to wake his younger brother. He needed to find out what was wrong.

The door to their room swung open after he fought with the lock and Dean was surprised to see Sam leaning back against the headboard of his bed, his hands on the remote as he flipped through the only four channels their TV was capable of displaying.

"You're awake?"

"Heard the car," Sam replied, aiming the remote at the TV and turning it off. He glanced at the screen and shivered slightly as the ugly little imp waved at him from somewhere near his feet. At least it was giving him some time to recover some of his strength.

Sam watched as Dean walked over to the kitchenette, placing the bag on the counter and shrugging off his jacket. He wasn't completely surprised when Dean took some Gatorade and soup out of the bag to prepare a meal for him.

"Think we can play snaps for a bit?" Sam asked. He hoped the desperation in his voice didn't concern Dean so much as spur him into playing. Then again, what he had to tell his brother was kind of important, so maybe it would be okay to let his brother worry a little more.

"Why, Sam?" Dean whined uncharacteristically.

"To help me beat my boredom?" Sam asked in return.

Dean turned to look at Sam as he popped the bowl of soup in the microwave and poked around at the buttons to get the machine whirring. The younger of the two men in the room could practically feel the question rolling off his brother despite the fact that the oldest hadn't said a word.

Dean's brow furrowed momentarily. The inflection in his brother's voice did not go unnoticed by him. He nodded, completely perplexed by the new development. If Sam knew what was happening to him, why didn't he just tell him?

"You start," Sam said, hoping to lull the imp that was now trailing hot fingers up and down his legs into a false sense of security.

"Oh, c'mon, Sam!" Dean said, running a hand over his face, "As if its not bad enough that I have to play the damn game…"

"Dean," Sam said barely louder than a whisper, "It's the only way…"

Sam's words were cut off with a gasp as the little imp ran a finger up his chest and settled a hand over his heart. It burned fiercely and took him a moment to realize exactly what had happened. When he finally did have the sense to try to figure it out, he looked up at the TV screen and saw the imp waving a finger at him in disapproval.

Shit.

"You alright, Sam?"

Sam looked to meet his brother's gaze, the hint of fear that the imp might have figured out his plan all but completely gone as a look of pure concern dripped from Dean's gaze. Sam noted the shadows under his brother's eyes, making the hazel hue that much more vividly green by contrast. He also noted, with some concern himself, the way Dean's freckles stood out against his skin that was paling from lack of sleep.

"Yea," Sam replied, "What about you, Dean?"

"What about me?" Dean asked turning to the microwave to avoid Sam's scrutiny.

"Gee, I dunno, Dean. Looks like you haven't slept in days."

Dean checked his watch again and did some quick math.

"Relax, man. It's been under 24 hours," he said, but noted the way Sam's face remained impassively concerned. He also noted, with some annoyance, the way his lips tightened into a thin line somewhere between a scowl and a frown and the way his eyebrows raised expectantly. He knew Sam wasn't going to let it go.

"Alright, so its been 17 and a half, but I have been sleeping. Better?"

Sam nodded, his lips curling almost imperceptibly into a subtle, acquiescent smile. He could tell by the way Dean shifted his stance and refused to break eye contact that he was telling the truth, but he could also tell that Dean was much more tired than he was letting on.

"So by sleeping, do you mean cat naps or actual REM cycle sleeping, Dean?"

"Sammy," Dean said with a weird mixture of warning and pleading that its namesake didn't like.

"Dean," Sam shot back in what he hoped was an appropriate imitation of that same tone.

Dean let a hoarse chuckle roll up his throat as he turned to Sam, "Forgive me for being a little concerned about my little brother, alright?"

The microwave beeped, effectively ending the conversation for the Winchesters. Dean turned to the machine and stabbed at the button to pop the door open with a little more force than was necessary before carefully grabbing the hot soup from the within and placing it on the counter to cool.

Sam turned his gaze away feeling guilty. Dean had always been doing this for as long as he could remember - losing sleep over his well being. Sam chanced a glance up at the TV screen and watched as the little imp began to play an invisible violin in mock sympathy to Sam's emotional struggle.

The hell? Is it reading my mind?

As if in response to his question, the little creature stopped playing air violin and put a long finger to something that Sam supposed was its nose in confirmation.

Shit.

A dip in the bed near his hip distracted Sam as Dean sat down, carefully balancing the hot soup in one hand and a plastic cup full of bright orange Gatorade in the other.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. You don't have to take care of me like this," Sam said, accepting the soup and stirring at it awkwardly with the plastic spoon.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment before quirking an eyebrow and responded, "And I'm not a girl, Samantha. So can we skip the Gilmore Girls crap?"

Sam rolled his eyes and blew on a spoonful of soup while he nodded to Dean. He began to eat, noting that Dean wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

"So, snaps?"

"Alright. Fine," Dean conceded with much less annoyance now that it was being brought up for a second time. He could obviously tell there was no way Sam was going to forget about playing this stupid little game.

"I still don't see why you just can't tell me wha-"

"I just can't," Sam shot back before Dean could spoil his plan. When he glanced at the TV screen, however, he was relieved to see that the imp was back to sitting on its haunches somewhere near his feet.

"Fine," Dean replied, pulling himself off of Sam's bed to relax on his own, "But you have to start."

"But Dean, I'm eating!" Sam said with a bit of laughter clinging to his words.

"You are such a pain in my ass," Dean replied, rubbing a hand over his tightly closed eyes.

"Tough. Now play," Sam said, punctuating his words with another mouthful of soup.

Dean gave himself a few minutes to think. He knew this wasn't just another game of snaps to pass lewd words back and forth under their father's radar. This time, the game was high stakes and Dean would be damned if he couldn't figure out what was after his brother.

"Alright, got one. This is the game of snaps. Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't. This time its both," Dean said, turning his attention to Sam who was still contentedly slurping away at his soup.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked and paused for a moment before he snapped his fingers three times. The last bit of the noise echoed through the quiet room as he paused again.

"This is stupid, Sasquatch. Can't we stop playing this game? How old are you anyways?"

Sam laughed weakly at his brother's sentences. Leave it to Dean to lace his displeasure into the silly game while actually playing it. When he looked up, Dean's eyes were studying his own. Both Winchesters knew that Dean wasn't asking for Sam to say the message he had conveyed, he was asking to hear whether or not he was correct.

"No," Sam said softly with a shake of his head. He chanced a glance at the TV screen, worried that the imp could maybe read his brother's mind as well. Sam felt relief as he saw the imp yawning with complete indifference. Sam focused on his soup, trying to keep his mind occupied with the need to fill his belly instead of the sneaky plan to tell Dean about the imp.

"Damn," Dean mumbled back, "Close at least?"

A soft snort left Sam before he said simply, "Not even a little."

"Its your turn, right?" Dean asked hoping to end his torture as soon as possible.

"Lemme finish this first," Sam said. Dean's angry glare softened immediately as Sam pouted and did his best impression of a lost little puppy dog. It was a low blow, but Sam was pretty sure he couldn't spell anything without his new best friend catching on. It was safer to let Dean try to figure it out.

"Fine," Dean huffed as he ran a hand down the side of his face and stared at the ceiling. His eyes squinted a bit in thought and Sam purposely began to pace himself with his soup. He was rapidly running out of chicken noodle which would only prompt Dean to make Sam play that much sooner and more insistently.

"Alright, this is the game of snaps. Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't. This time its both," the older Winchester brother said once again.

"Can you please take a turn soon?" Dean asked, albeit seriously.

Sam counted as his brother snapped five times, but focused on his soup to keep the imp from getting suspicious. He already knew where his brother was going.

"Really would be nice, Sammy. Seriously."

Sam slurped down some more soup as his brother snapped twice. He shook his head before he met his brother's gaze.

"But I thought you said…"

"Yea and I was wrong," Sam said simply, "Keep going."

Dean grumbled under his breath and he tried to think of something else that could be taxing his brother to such extremes. He sat up suddenly with a new idea.

"Alright. This is the game of snaps. Yadda, yadda, yadda," he said waving his hand dismissively at the introductory words.

"C'mon, Dean! You gotta play right! How else will I know when to start paying attention?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes skyward, "Fine. This is the game of snaps. Sometimes it is; sometimes it isn't. This time its both."

He shot his brother a look that asked "happy now?" and flipped him off in the same breath; Sam laughed heartily at Dean's frustration. They both knew the intro was completely pointless, but Sam liked to pay his brother back for all his little pranks every now and then.

"Here we go again," Dean said. He snapped his fingers twice without pausing, but it took him a moment to figure out another sentence to finish his thought.

"X-rays are expensive," he said after a moment.

"That's the best you got?" Sam asked.

"Just shut up and tell me if I'm right," Dean shot back as he got up and fished his M&Ms out of his grocery bag.

"Not even close," Sam replied as his brother plopped himself down on his own bed with a rush of air.

"Not even close," Dean grumbled as he mocked his brother's voice. He continued, "Feel up to playing now?"

Sam nodded grudgingly and took a sip of Gatorade before glancing at the TV again. The imp was studying him carefully in the reflection, almost as if it suspected something was about to happen. Sam shrugged it off and tried to play it cool.

"Alright," he said placing his soup bowl on the night stand, "This is the game of snaps. Sometimes it is; sometimes it isn't. This time its both."

He wiped a hand down his face as traces of heat began to work its way up towards his chest again. Sam was suddenly very afraid that the imp knew what he was doing.

He looked at Dean, who blinked back at him with raised eyebrows of annoyance. It was all Sam could do to keep his scathing words in check before he gulped and snapped his fingers three times.

"Maybe you could help me. Please tell me you get it," Sam said quickly. He knew his words were rushed, but already he could feel a relentless heat licking at his neck and head. He knew the imp was back and definitely suspicious.

Dean blinked, his face pulled into a frown.

"That's it?" he asked.

Sam nodded, "Did you get it?"

Dean scratched the back of his head, "Well, yea. I know how to spell, Sam. But an imp? Really?"

Sam's response died on his tongue as the maniacal little demon grabbed his head and began its assault once again. Apparently it didn't like that Sam had tattled. That much was for certain as it unleashed a new kind of fury that Sam hadn't experienced yet.

"SAM!"

Sam felt his brother's grip heavy on his shoulder and he clenched his jaw tightly as the spasms tore through him in a new form of agony he had never experienced. He screwed his face tightly together, trying to hold back the yell that wanted to rip through him. He felt like he was burning from the inside out on every inch of his body. His muscles tightened and released convulsively, jarring him further and further. He rode the wave of agony for another minute or two before he began to yell.

"Fuck!" Dean spit out in panic, holding down his brother as Sam continued to seize.

He felt so stupid and careless on top of his unbridled panic. Sam had been handing him the clues the whole time. Imps were Faerie demons - Fae.

The last line of the poem. The obvious dropping of the word Fae. They popped into his head and Dean cursed himself under his breath, never removing his hand from his brother's shoulder. Sam had been trying to tell him and Dean had been too stupid to piece the clues together.

He felt a little better, though, as he ran through the normal signs of an imp attachment. Dean had never seen an imp cause such extreme fits like this in his entire career as a hunter; that, of course, was saying something, because Dean had been hunting nearly his entire life.

Usually, the ugly little creatures were content to hide keys, play with thermostats and occasionally shove someone down the stairs. To see one attached to his brother was painful enough, but the fact that it had this kind of control over Sam was horrifying in completely new ways.

A guttural groan pulled Dean from his thoughts and he found himself rubbing his hand over his brother's shoulder to try to soothe him.

"Breathe, Sam," Dean said with authority, "C'mon, man. Breathe through it."

Sam began to pant in an effort to get the much needed oxygen to his overtaxed muscles. He could just barely make out the sound of his brother's voice reaching out for him through the angry fog that consumed him. He knew what he needed to do; he had been trained just like Dean had for situations like this. His body, however, was far beyond the point of listening to his commands.

With a whimper, Sam's face smoothed and the tense muscles beneath Dean's fingers relaxed. A soft exhale left Sam's mouth and Dean found himself checking for a pulse out of instinct. It was much quicker than it should have been, but it was there and strong. That was good enough for now.

"Christ, Sammy."

Dean stood slowly and uncertainly, his hand wiping at his face as he contemplated the best course of action to get rid of the thing torturing his brother. Ordinarily, getting rid of an imp was an easy process. Usually, all a hunter had to do was stand in front of a mirror until the damn thing appeared and press a bloody hand to its reflection to banish it back to wherever it had come from.

Of course, the alternative was preferred by the elder Winchester as it killed the unnatural creature and prevented it from harming any more innocent lives in the future. This method, too, required a mirror in addition to a wrought iron spike that would be plunged into the imp's reflection.

Dean had used this method once before, when Sam was still at Stanford and John was still tracking Azazel. They had happened across peculiar occurrences at an old steam train station that still ran somewhere in the state of Connecticut. At the time, it had been all too obvious to Dean that it was an imp and John had left to get rid of an angry spirit somewhere down the street; he knew his son could handle something like an imp.

The annoying little creature had displayed many signs from setting the coal bed on top of the antique train engine ablaze to stirring up frenzied chaos in the form of poking at the engine's fire until the pressure was so great that the enormous pistons on the sides of the engine had nearly exploded.

Dean had had to improvise then, luring the little bugger into the men's room, an old railroad spike in hand. When he finally saw it appear in the glass surface, he had stabbed at it, expecting the mirror to shatter. He had been surprised when the spike had slid into the glass almost as though he were pressing a hot piece of metal into wax. The imp had started to smoke in the mirror, hissing and spitting curses in a language Dean didn't understand, until the young Winchester had been forced to let go of the weapon; the spike, searing with unbelievable heat, had burned his hand pretty severely.

As the imp disintegrated, the iron was expelled from the mirror and dropped to the floor with a loud clang. The mirror had looked as good as new, but the same definitely couldn't be said for Dean's hand. Much to his father's annoyance, Dean's injury had kept him from wielding a gun or a hunting knife for a week or two. However, the inability to hunt had allowed Dean to hone his abilities to hustle up some cash.

A tinny, jingling noise brought Dean out of his memories. Without thought, his hand darted into his pocket and grabbed the offending noise maker. He had it open and pressed to his head without even looking at the caller ID; he had been expecting this call.

"It's an imp," Dean said through the tense knot in his throat.

"And you're a regular Einstein," came Bobby's terse response. There was a sigh before he continued, "This one's the Mebd's pet. Her personal little hellion."

"The what?" Dean asked, completely at a loss.

"The Mebd," Bobby said, "As in, the Warrior Queen of the Faeries. Ya know, one of two Queens in the Land of the Fae? She rules over what's called the Unseelie Court."

Dean glanced back at Sam and noted sourly that his little brother would've understood this. Sam was well versed in this kind of stuff - the folklore and the fairy tales. Sam's eyes began to flutter beneath his eyelids and Dean half sighed with relief as he realized his brother was beginning to dream.

"Of course, Bobby. Everyone just knows that off the top of their heads," Dean snarked back.

"Boy, I don't think you get just how bad this is," Bobby countered.

"Then, enlighten me, Obi Wan," Dean replied with all of his stored frustration dripping from his words. To say his nerves were frazzled at this point was probably an understatement. Add a lack of sleep to the mix and Dean was rapidly becoming something nuclear.

"Gladly, young Skywalker."

Dean rolled his eyes and stalked off to the small kitchenette table. Bobby's words were rattling around in his ears again as he sat himself down in the chair by the table.

"Do you know anything about the Fae world?"

"Uhhhh, if by know anything you mean nothing, then yea. I'm an expert," Dean replied.

Dean knew it was bad when Bobby didn't offer an insult to his intelligence or even huff in frustration at Dean's remark. If it was this important, Dean knew he needed to just shut up and listen to what the man on the other end had to say.

"Alright, the Land of the Fae is ruled by two Queens. Sisters. One of them is the Cat Ana, the Seelie Queen. The one we gotta worry about is the Mebd. She rules over the nastier things in the Fae world. Tends to get herself associated with the notion of death and decay."

"Well! That's a relief," Dean said sarcastically, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No kidding. Anyways, story goes that both the Seelie and Unseelie Queens were human once. They were damned to hell, but the Devil didn't want 'em. Thought they'd take his throne away from him if he wasn't careful. He trapped 'em in a sort of limbo between our world and his. This is the Land of the Fae."

"Huh," Dean responded, "So what, its like an alternate universe?"

"Yes and no. It exists alongside everything we know, Dean. Hell, some people on Earth have even got Fae blood in them from Medieval England times. Point is, we can't see it anymore because we don't fear it like we used to."

Dean scoffed. "Wait. You're saying some people are part Faerie?"

"Duh! Course you and your brother run into them all the time and hunt them bastards down. Werewolves, vampires, changelings. They're all part Fae."

"Wait, werewolves and vampires are Fae?"

"Did I stutter?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he tried to process the information. He knew better than anyone that werewolves and vampires alike were created by a virus that spread from person to person. It didn't make any sense.

"And don't roll your eyes at me."

A dark chuckle left Dean's lips before he continued, "Still trying to see how the wolf-man and blood suckers are Fae over here."

"Faerie virus, moron. For werewolves, passed along through saliva. For vampires, passed along through the blood. Better?"

"…But I already knew that!"

"Then quit askin' stupid questions and let's get back to the damn imp!"

Dean had to grip the edge of the table hard to keep himself in check.

"Alright, so how did Sam get wrapped up in all this?" Dean asked, somehow managing to keep the angry quiver out of his voice.

"Well, this is where it gets tricky. Poe was a little obsessed with Fae folklore. Course, he didn't know it was more than just stories. Dean, you ever hear the story of Tam Lin?"

"Pretend I did but need a refresher," Dean replied.

Dean heard the sigh and knew the chastising was coming. Bobby didn't disappoint, "Boy, you're hopeless, you know that?"

"Just shut up and tell me already."

"Alright, well the abridged version goes like this. The Mebd fell in love with a mortal. Name was Tam Lin, but he was in love with a mortal girl. So, to keep the girl from stealing him away, the Mebd took out his heart and put a stone in its place. Boy's heart got locked away in a chest that she made out of her undying love for him and hid it somewhere in Faerieland. She kept him for herself and made him her King."

Dean fought back the snort of laughter as the word "Faerieland" hit his ears. Sure, he was used to dealing with urban myths and legends, but this was starting to sound more and more like something Disney would have owned the rights to already.

"'Kay. Mortal guy trapped in the Faerie world and married to some messed up Fae Queen. Was she hot at least?" Dean asked.

"The guy's got a stone for a heart and can't feel a damn thing and you're wonderin' if the Mebd Queen is good lookin'? Besides, that's not how the story ends," Bobby replied flatly.

Dean kept silent as Bobby finished the tale.

"Tam Lin's true love comes back and by some miracle, she reminds him how to love again. He gets his heart back without havin' to look for the chest and the two disappear and live happily ever after."

Dean couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him this time. He heard Bobby clear his throat on the other end of the line and worked furiously to get himself back in control.

"And this is relevant how?" Dean couldn't help but asking.

"Ain'tcha wondering about the stone?"

Dean blinked and sat up straighter in his chair. He could feel that they were getting to something really important.

"What about the stone, Bobby?"

"There's two things. First, you gotta know that the stone went back to the chest in place of Tam Lin's heart. By the time the Mebd figured out what happened, her love for him twisted itself black and became an imp, same one that's got its claws in your brother now. It wouldn't let go of the stone."

"'Kay. That's creepy," Dean responded and after a thought added, "Explains those broken hearted dreams Sam and I had though."

"Yep," Bobby replied, "What's the quote… 'Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn' or somethin' like that."

There was an awkward pause in the story and Dean knew Bobby was waiting for him to ask.

"Alright, I'll bite. What else is so special about the stone?"

There was a dark chuckle before the older hunter said, "What do you think they used for Poe's memorial?"

Dean's face fell in shock and his mouth opened and closed once or twice as he fought to find his voice. Bobby's gruff tone snapped him out of his daze.

"Also a fun fact, Poe's a descendent of Tam Lin somewhere down the line. Also explains why the imp killed him."

Dean's gaze snapped to his brother at the word, "It did what?"

"It killed him. Why do you think they still don't know what kinda illness he had?"

"Shit," Dean said sharply. He heard papers shuffling around through the earpiece of the phone and knew it was Bobby's way of sounding busy so Dean could process what was happening to his brother.

"Wait, so are we descendents of Tam Lin? That why this thing is after Sam?"

Another dark chuckle and then Bobby spoke, "No, Dean. Woulda had you too if that were the case. This thing is after Sam 'cause of what happened to one of the women he loved."

"What? He broke her heart! I mean, not to brag or anything, but I'm a bit of a heartbreaker myself. Shouldn't that thing be after me instead?"

There was an awkward silence and Dean knew it was because he wasn't going to like what Bobby was about to say.

"I don't know, Dean. Did you end up killing any old flames?"

Dean struggled with the implication in Bobby's voice as his vision swam with a red haze. His words dripped with protective malice as he spoke. "My brother is not a murderer, Bobby."

"You really are thick headed, aren't you?"

Dean felt like he had just been slapped across the face, but fought the urge to hang up on the man. He still needed to figure out how to get rid of this thing.

"I don't think your brother's a murderer, boy, but that thing does. Think about it. It's technically part of the Mebd herself. The thing is killing your brother because of what he killed!"

Dean paused for a moment as comprehension washed over him with a tidal wave like force. He glanced at his brother with sadness as he remembered how determined he had been to finish the job himself. He couldn't imagine the anguish Sam had felt, the bitter disappointment. After all, Sam had given his heart over to - even made love to - a woman that couldn't be cured from the virus that flooded her system and changed her with the cycling of the moon.

"A werewolf," Dean breathed out with resignation, "Madison was technically part Fae."

"Bingo."

Dean paused for a moment before dragging the heavily used notepad towards himself and picking up a pen. In the pit of his stomach, he knew it would be much more difficult to get rid of an imp that was part of a Fae Queen than an ordinary one.

"Alright, so how do I get rid of this thing?"

The sound of Bobby blowing air through his lips hit his ears.

"You ain't gonna like it."

+SUPERNATURAL+

Dean was back to cleaning their weapons, his nerves close to completely shot and his patience almost completely gone. He was exhausted on top of it too, which only made him feel more raw and that much closer to exploding.

Bobby had been wrong. Dean didn't just not like what he had to do, he absolutely abhorred it. Then again, maybe he wouldn't have hated it so much if the thing didn't have a timeline to adhere to…or a story to settle on before he could actually kick its ass back to the Land of the Fae.

The whole thing was simple enough, but it meant a lot of hurry up and wait. For example, Dean had to wait until it was officially October 7th, the same day that the stupid little thing had killed Poe. Dean also had to wait for the picky little bastard to decide which of Poe's stories best represented what had happened between Sam and Madison. For the record, he really wished the damn thing would hurry up already.

Fortunately, Sam was sleeping peacefully again and inwardly, Dean knew that he should probably grab some shut eye himself before they had to hit the road. The spell to get rid of the imp required him to take Sam to Tam Lin's stone - it did once mark Tam Lin's heart, after all - which further complicated things because they were at least four hours away from Westminster Burying Grounds, barring any traffic. He sighed as he reassembled his colt and placed it down on the bed beside him.

A list of things needed for the incantation crinkled beneath the weight of the gun before Dean slid it out from under the weapon and reread it. It was pretty specific, but at least everything he needed was easily obtained.

Sam needed to offer some of his blood, partly because the iron content in it would weaken the connection between him and the imp and partly as a sacrificial offering to open the door to the Fae world. The enchantment also required holy water which would purify Sam's blood and completely sever the tie between him and the nasty little creature hanging around. Because the imp was attached to Poe as well, Dean also needed to get a hard copy of the story the imp was still trying to settle on. The blood, holy water and text would be combined and burned on top of Tam Lin's stone to send the imp back where it belonged.

"Way to get caught in a fucked up fairytale, Cinderella," Dean griped as he watched the sleeping form of his brother.

Dean stood up, noting with frustration that the room felt like it was spinning due to his fatigue. He started to clear the weapons from his bed and pack them back into the duffel bag they had come from as he caught himself checking his watch yet again. It was only just after 1pm.

Dean weighed his options carefully. He wouldn't have to worry about finding a hard copy of whatever story the imp chose thanks to his brother's ginormously dorky habit of carrying around all of Poe's works in one heavy book. As much as his brother would probably hate him for it, Dean knew he could just rip the pages out and use them when the time came. They had enough holy water stashed away in the trunk that he didn't really need to cook up another batch anytime soon and he didn't even want to think about slicing his brother's hand at this point.

With the necessities taken care of for the time being, Dean dragged his feet back over to his bed and collapsed on top of it without covering himself with the scratchy sheets or the blanket. His hand curled around the handle of his favorite knife hidden beneath his pillow and he allowed himself to get a few hours of sleep before the inevitable happened.


A/N: Huzzah! Another chapter! Also, I did this in my other fic (Storm Chasers) so I thought I should do it here too. The first one to leave a review that includes all 3 of Dean's guesses encoded using the game of snaps will get a one-shot written just for them! Good luck and REVIEW!

xoTrebleMaker