Waxing and Waning

Chapter Four

"He thinks you're a witch," Dean heard Sam say quietly from one side of the bed.

Gentle laughter from the other, "He does, does he?"

"Yeah, he said he didn't mind."

"That was kind of him," still with laughter in the voice.

"I told him you weren't, but he insisted."

"As long as you don't decide to hunt me, I don't mind either."

Dean was slowly becoming more aware. This time the pain was still very much with him. It wasn't as bad as it had been when Sam had brought him in from the garden, but it definitely wasn't good. He could feel a weight on his legs, the stupid cat no doubt. He has a sense that it was late, the day gone. He thought he could smell the remnants of food. He wasn't hungry. He shifted his leg and the weight moved. Yep, stupid cat. He opened his eyes.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said. He was looking a little pale. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better than I was."

"Only a little?"

"Yeah, sorry." He wished he could say something that would take that look of his brother's face. He knew that a lie wouldn't help at this point, though, Sam would figure it out.

"I think I will go make you a cup of tea that should help a little, then grab a different book or two." Bryn stepped out of the room.

That was convenient, he looked at his brother. "Sam? You ok?"

Sam looked at him. Dean could see him trying to decide what to say. "What do you think?"

"Sam, it's gong to be ok."

"How Dean? She still doesn't have an answer, you are getting worse again," he stopped and ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"I talked to her, she said you could stay here if…" Maybe I shouldn't go there.

"If, Dean? If what?"

"Nothing." He found himself wishing he hadn't opened his big mouth. Diversion time. "Can you help me sit up?" Sam looked upset. Maybe not the best diversion in the world, but it was all he could think of right then.

"Sure," Sam gently pulled him up and slid another pillow behind his back. "How's that?"

"Thanks Sammy. Much better." He smiled at his brother. "What time is it?"

"Bout nine I think. I'm not really sure."

"I wasn't out as long that time, was I? Did you eat?"

"Yeah, Bryn brought some stew back for me. I didn't want to leave."

The conversation was more than a little awkward. Dean sighed, and it was probably going to get worse. He tried to relax, shifting didn't seem to ease the pain, actually nothing seemed to be helping all that much right now. His brother was looking more than a bit haggard. These last two weeks were beginning to leave quite a mark on Sam. I just hope this is over soon, one way or another, for Sammy's sake.

Bryn came back in the room carrying two mugs. "I made some coffee for you, Sam. I hope that's ok?"

"Yeah, thanks," he took the cup she handed him.

Bryn offered the other mug to Dean. He reached out to get it, his hand was shaking too badly to hold on to it. Sam put his hand around Dean's to help steady it. Dean smiled his thanks. This was getting embarrassing. The tea had a minty flavor that helped cover up something a lot more bitter and kind of slimy tasting. Dean wasn't sure how slime was a flavor, but this tea definitely managed it.

"Tasty," he said with a grimace.

"I put mint in to help cover the taste," she said.

"Yeah, worked, too."

"Fine, I'll let you have it plain next time," she said with a smile.

"What's in it?" Sam asked her.

"Slime," Dean said.

"That's right, slime and some valerian, elder flower, meadowsweet and betony," she said. "I'm going to go back to the study. If you need me, send Pyewacket," she smiled when Dean rolled his eyes. "He can have another dose of the—what did you call it? Swamp muck? If he needs it," she said to Sam. Dean watched as she walked out of the room. She must know I need to talk with Sam. The cat hopped back on the bed and settled beside Dean.

"The cat's kind of strange," Sam said with a smile.

"Yeah, I think he might be a familiar," Dean said.

"Still think she's a witch?"

"Still think she's not?"

"Dean…"

"Sam…" He smiled at his brother. "Can you help me with the tea?" Sam picked up the mug and helped him drink. Sam put it back down on the bedside table. "Thanks. Kind of sucks, not being able to do it myself," he said, purposefully leaving an opening for Sam, if Sammy needed to talk.

"Don't worry about it, I don't mind." There was an edge to his brother's voice Dean didn't like.

"Yeah? Really?" Dean raised his eyebrows, doesn't sound like it.

"Really, Dean. I don't mind helping."

"You don't, huh?"

Sam looked at him, anger briefly flaring in his eyes. "What do you want me to say Dean? I don't mind helping you, I want to help you."

"But?"

"But nothing Dean."

"Ok, fine, nothing." Sam was kind of glaring at him, Dean recognized the look. He'd seen it once or twice in the last couple of years. "You mad at me, Sammy?"

That seemed to surprise his brother, "What? Why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know, just a thought." He sighed. This was going to be a long night at this rate. He leaned back into the pillows and looked at Sam. Ok, fine, I'll bring it up. "We need to talk about this, Sam."

"About what, Dean?" Fear in his brother's eyes.

"What's going on."

"What do you mean?" Denial in his brother's eyes.

"Sammy," he said as gently as he could, "I, uh, I talked to Bryn about you staying here after I…if I…she said you could stay as long as you need to, here where it's safe." Sam looked stricken. "She even said that I could be buried…"

"Dean! No don't say that." Anger in his brother's eyes. Sam grabbed his arm. "No, Dean. I won't hear it."

That was it. "Sam, you have to accept that this might happen."

"Dean," Desperation in his brother's eyes.

"Sammy…"

"Don't say it." Sam was begging. "Please, don't Dean."

"What, Sam? The doctors told you a week ago there was no hope. You think I was asleep? You have to know, man."

"What Dean?" Everything gone from his brother's eyes except grief.

"I'm dying, Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes, turning his head away. He seemed to be struggling to breathe. "I know, Dean," He looked back, "I know."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"Yeah, Dean, me too."

Dean closed his eyes. That was fun. Nothing like making your baby brother cry to really make your day. He suddenly regretted forcing the conversation. Sam knew the score, making him say it out loud didn't help either of them. Crap. That's why I don't talk about stuff. It's a pain and I suck at it.

"Dean?"

"I'm still here," he said opening his eyes and smiling at Sam. His brother smiled back, it was a little damp, but a good attempt. Diversion time. "So, a wendigo up north, you said?"

"Yeah, Idaho. I thought it might be interesting to check out, At least everything points to it being a wendigo," Sam said, playing along. Dean knew that's what he was doing, but it didn't matter. It felt almost normal. "It could be something else, but I don't know what. Sasquatch? They don't usually leave quite the trail of bodies."

"True, but we haven't really hunted a lot of sasquatches. There was that hunt with dad when you were twelve. Remember?"

"Yeah, there was that diner on the way up the mountain. They had the best cheeseburgers I had ever eaten, and after you got me an ice cream sundae."

"I seem to remember you got sick after that, too. Had to pull over so you wouldn't mess up the car."

"You'd remember that, of course."

"Hey, I'd only just got the car," Dean said smiling, thinking about the drive all those years ago.

"Yeah, it was the first time we rode together in the car by ourselves. Just the two of us." Sam had a genuine smile on his face. "It was great. I realize now that having your twelve year old brother tagging along all the time probably wasn't all that much fun for you, but it was great for me."

"I didn't mind, Sammy. Never."

"Not even when you had that hot date?"

"Which one? There've been a lot of those, dude," he said smiling.

"You remember—the co-ed in Spokane, Michaela?—I was twelve or thirteen I think?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. Dad had to leave town and said I needed to keep an eye one you, so I brought you along."

"And the co-ed had a baby sister. My first serious kiss."

"Really?" He laughed. "You never told me."

"It wasn't a very good kiss. We held hands during the movie too, thought we were pretty grown up." Sam was laughing, too.

"You're such a slut, Sammy."

"Learned from the best."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Sam was looking at him. "You need more of the swamp muck, Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so." Sam held the bottle so he could take sip. "You should try it, it's tasty. Really. Take a sip. Dare you."

"What?"

"Double dare you."

"Grow up, Dean." Sam was smiling, but the worry was back in his eyes. "How bad is it?"

"Tastes terrible."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. It's not good, but it's ok."

"You trying to make me feel better?"

"Nah, why would I do that?"

"Thanks for that."

"We need to talk," Bryn said coming back into the room.

"What?" Dean said looking at her.

"You've figured it out, haven't you?" Sam said, hope and a little fear in his voice.

"Yes, I have, I think I have at least. It matches up."

"Well?" Dean asked.

"Onflyge." She said looking from one to the other.

"Huh?"

"It means flying venom in rough translation. It's a magical weapon wielded by elves, faeries and witches. It creates a wound that slowly destroys life force. Physical symptoms like pain and weakness caused by the invisible wound."

"Well, that explains why the doctors couldn't find anything. Invisible arrows just don't show up on X-ray." Dean said looking at Sam. His brother looked sick.

"Can you cure it?" Sam said. Dean could hear something in his brother's voice. It wasn't really fear, it sounded like dread, like he knew what was coming.

"There is a possible cure," she hesitated.

"It's like those ones you talked about at Stanford, isn't it? Half poison? You have to slow the body down almost to death out so the spell can work without actually killing the patient?" Sam said, Dean was worried about his tone.

"Yes, Sam."

"Only a lot of the time the patient dies anyway?" Sam was getting angry, Dean could see it.

"Sometimes. A lot of the time the patient wakes up just fine, too."

"You know that from personal experience?" Sam was definitely angry, defending him.

"Yes, I do. I have dealt with something similar before. Once or twice. It was a long time ago, but I have done it."

"And? Did they live or did you kill them?" Sam had stood and walked over in front of her. "Well?"

"I've lost people, I won't lie to you. Sometimes the wound is too big, the spell doesn't work right. The patient doesn't want to recover. Those all play a part."

"How many? How many have you killed?"

"Sam, that's enough," Dean said. His brother looked like he was about to take a swing at Bryn. The cat had walked to the end of the bed and was growling at his brother. "You, too." Brother and cat looked at him. "Let her finish."

"Dean…"

"Listening won't hurt anything, Sam. I missed the lecture, want to fill me in?"

"Dean," Sam looked at him, then backed down. He walked back over and sat on the edge of the bed. Like he was protecting Dean from a physical threat.

Bryn looked warily at Sam, she seemed to sense his mood. She walked to the other side of the bed so she could look at them both. "Magical weapons do a lot of damage. They kind of spread out, like roots, working their way through your body, heart, lungs, blood, after awhile they are pretty much everywhere. So, when you go to remove the roots and get rid of the wound, it is traumatic to the body. The pain is enough to kill all by itself. A long time ago they discovered, though, that if you slow the body down—knock the patient out—so the spell can work without the patient fighting the pain, fighting the effects of the charm, they can recover."

"Tell him the rest," Sam said. The cat hissed at him.

"You don't know when you give the medicine if the patient is going to recover. It might just help them go to sleep."

"Forever?" Dean said.

"Yes, it is kill or cure."

"And you won't know?"

"Until you die, Dean. We'll know then." Sam said still angry.

Dean looked at her, "Do you think it will work?"

"I think so, I hope so. I'm not sure, but I think it will."

"How long will it take to get ready?" Dean asked, knowing that spells could take awhile.

"Not all that long. I have the herbs all ready to go—I will have it within the hour, I think. It's a new moon, which is helpful," she said.

"Ok, do it, get it ready," Dean said to her, looking at Sam.

"Dean, no. No."

Still with his eyes on his brother he said "Is there any other way? Anything else that might work?"

"I'm sorry, no. This is all there is."

"Go ahead, get it ready," Dean didn't take his eyes off of Sam. He heard her leave the room, she called the cat to go with her.

"Dean, you can't."

"It's no bigger risk than surgery, Sam. They knock you out then, too, and you don't know if you'll wake up."

"This is different than surgery, Dean. Much different."

"Yeah, it is, Sammy. Because there is no other hope for me."

"The hospital?" Desperate.

"So I can die there? No, I'm not dying in a hospital, I would rather take this chance. This is what we understand, what we deal with everyday, it actually makes sense to me."

"Dean, I don't know."

"Yes you do. You always know. We have to try this, it's this or nothing." He looked at Sam and laid a hand gently on his knee. "I'm not going to make it through the night, Sammy. I think you know that, too. If we don't try this, I'll be gone anyway."

"Dean, I just don't…" He didn't seem to be able to go on.

"Yeah, me, too." He tried to smile at Sam, it didn't feel quite right. They sat together, not saying anything, each lost in thought. At least he'll be safe, Dean told himself, trying to ignore the fear he saw on his brother's face. He was getting worse, the pain was almost at the point he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to mention it and add more to his brother's worry. Then he half laughed at himself. I'm dying—who do I think I'm fooling, anyway?

The cat hopped back on the bed, Bryn came in carrying a chalice. "Fancy cup," Dean said.

"Ritual cup," she said. "It's supposed to be fancy."

"That the stuff?" He was getting nervous. Kill or cure.

"Yes, it doesn't taste good, and I can't put anything in it to mask the flavor. It does have fennel in it which does help but the plantain, mugwort, yarrow and some other herbs kind of overpower the fennel."

"Not to mention the spell, right?"

"Yes, but they don't really have a lot of flavor."

"Is it quick? I mean to put me out?" He hoped so, lingering just didn't seem like all that much fun for him or Sam..

"Pretty quick, yes."

"Ok, I'm ready." He reached his hand for the cup, it was shaking, partly from the effects of the illness and partly because he was now completely terrified. Kill or cure. He hoped Sam couldn't see his fear.

"Here, Dean, let me" Sam took the cup and held it for him. He slipped his arm behind Dean's back so he could sit up a little. He couldn't really hide anything from Sam, could he? Dean drank the liquid, it tasted unbelievably bad. Too late to change my mind now. He leaned back again.

Bryn took the cup from Sam, "I'll be in the garden." She left them alone.

Sam shifted so he was sitting beside Dean. The cat settled on the end of the bed, looking at them. "Stupid cat."

Sam tried to laugh, it sounded a little more like a sob. "Yeah, Dean, stupid cat."

Dean could feel the drug beginning to work, consciousness was already getting harder and harder to hold on to. Should I say good-bye? If I do will it jinx me? I'm getting a little delirious.

"Dean, I…I…"

"Yeah, Sammy, me, too."

"I'll see you in the morning, Dean."

"Yeah, I'll see you, Sam. In the morning." The last shreds of consciousness were leaving him. "Sammy?" He said, suddenly afraid, for Sam, for himself.

"Dean?"

"Don't leave."

"Don't worry, Dean, I'll be here when you wake up."

Dean slid his hand desperately towards Sam, he felt Sam take it in his. He'll never let me live this down. A part of him smiled at the thought. He relaxed and let the spell, let the drug take him into the dark. He was aware of Sam's warm hand holding his long after all other sensation had ceased.

Surprisingly the dark was neither quiet nor pain-free. It was filled with nightmare images and occasional bursts of pain. At one point awareness, not really consciousness, but awareness, enough to think maybe he had cried out. He thought he felt Sam holding him down against the bed. He thought he heard his brother begging Bryn to give him another dose of the medicine, more of the spell. He thought he heard his brother saying even death was better than watching this. He wasn't sure what Sam had meant. Then liquid burning his throat and slowly awareness slipped away again. The dark was finally quiet, and still he could feel Sam's hand on his.

To be continued