A/N: Okay, so make fun of me if you must, but I only JUST NOW realized that this fanfiction site now has the capability to let authors reply back to feedback. *facepalm* In my defense, when I first signed on to this site YEARS ago that feature wasn't there, and I just never noticed that it got added until just now. So I will be actually replying to y'all… now that I know it can be done!

"Whoa… hold up a minute, Bobby," Dean said while he visibly balked. They were in Bobby's living room, surrounded on all sides by old books and scattered silver, iron, holy water, and car parts.

Bobby looked stern. "Quit being a baby."

Dean scowled at Bobby. "When you said a cleansing process, I was expecting something like an exorcism incantation."

Truthfully, Sam had been, too. He looked askance at Bobby standing in front of Dean holding up a syringe full of a murky brown liquid. Sam couldn't really say so (considering how hard it had been to get Dean to Bobby's in the first place), but he honestly shared Dean's misgivings when Bobby came out wielding a needle like Nurse Ratched.

"That crap the djinn put in you is more chemical than spiritual, so the cure is, too," Bobby returned. He narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You saying you don't trust me, boy?"

"I trust you with a hell of a lot, Bobby, but letting you shoot me up with… whatever that is," he gestured in disgust at the needle, "falls short."

Bobby snorted.

"What exactly is in that?" Sam asked, no longer able to hold back his uncertainty.

"Ground up plants, mostly, blended together and added to water," Bobby answered, "stuff from the Arabian peninsula – djinn homelands – that was not cheap or easy to come by." Bobby turned his gaze back to Dean. "I don't get why you're freaking out; all I want to do is give you one little shot. You wouldn't think twice about hobbling in here with your guts hanging out and say 'hey, Bobby, fix this'."

Sam smirked because that was true.

Dean frowned. "As a field medic, you're awesome, but something you whipped up with your Junior Chemistry Kit…"

Bobby sighed in frustration and turned to Sam. "All right, you hold him down, I'll inject him."

The shift in Dean was immediate. His body went on the ready, his eyes hunter-sharp. Sam was already bracing to refuse to let it go down that way. He opened his mouth to tell Bobby no, when Bobby lowered the needle and said to Dean, "Look, Dean… I'm not saying this doesn't suck, but ain't nothing in here's going to hurt you. It's all nature, nothing you wouldn't consider adding to a food dish, or rather, no one with a taste for exotic food wouldn't, just in lower concentrations and the right combination to counteract the markers of the djinn."

Dean glowered and shifted a look to Sam. Sam could only shrug. He knew they had man-handled Dean as far as they could – from now on, it had to be Dean's choice. Sam wouldn't force Dean to do it, especially now that an injection was part of the plan.

With a snarl of disgust, Dean threw up his hands. "Fine. Give me your damn condiment shot."

Bobby nodded. "Good… now lay down on the couch."

Sam couldn't make out Dean's grumbling as he took off his jacket and threw it in a corner, but Bobby must have. "Told you already, it won't work if you're conscious. The brain works differently when you're awake, and it won't let this do its job," he waved the needle. "Besides which, where this all started was in your unconscious… that's where we have to fix it."

Dean eyed the cloth and bottle of chloroform at the ready on the end table next to the couch. He bristled. "For the record, I hate both of you right now."

"Duly noted," Bobby retorted dryly, "now lay down."

Dean did, scowled viciously the whole time. When he was flat on his back, Bobby took a paper towel wetted with alcohol and cleaned a patch of skin at the bend in Dean's elbow.

Sam inched closer to watch. He caught Dean's eye and paused at the shadow of betrayal in his brother's eyes. Sam swallowed. "You're doing the right thing, Dean."

Bobby found Dean's vein, slid the needle in, and slowly injected the compound into his bloodstream.

Dean looked away. "Whatever."

When the needle was empty, Bobby set it aside and went for the bottle and cloth. "Hold his hands, Sam, in case he tries to resist the mask when he starts getting foggy."

Sam came closer to do as Bobby asked, closing his hands over each of Dean's wrists and holding them down to the couch. Dean kept his gaze resolutely on the ceiling, his jaw clenched.

Bobby dipped a splash of the knock-out liquid on the cloth and covered Dean's mouth and nose.

Dean blinked, took in a deep breath, then another. His eyes lost their fury and slipped into surprise and Sam felt Dean's hands try to wrest free. Sam held them tight. Dean's chest heaved in panic, then his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

Bobby kept the cloth in place a few more seconds, then pulled it away. He gave Dean's shoulder an experimental shake. Nothing. Dean was out.

Bobby sighed. "Well, that's it. Shouldn't take long."

Sam gently released Dean's wrists and looked up as Bobby started clearing away the supplies. "How will we know it's worked?"

"Dean will know soon as he wakes up."

"I, Carmen Porter, take you, Dean Winchester, to be my lawfully wedded husband. In good times and in bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as we both shall live."

"Dean?"

"I, Dean Winchester, take you, Carmen Porter, to be my lawfully wedded wife. In good times and in bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as we both shall live."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

To Be Continued…