"Sam, I don't know about this" Dean was having serious second thoughts about this whole "no feelings" thing, but his brother looked so desperate that he eventually caved to the Sammy stare.
"You'll be fine, I'll reverse it once the spirit is destroyed, I promise." But Dean wasn't afraid of that. He wasn't afraid of what his brother would do when he was stripped of emotion, he was worried about what he would become. But he hid his fears in that dark place of his heart that was slowly growing bigger.
"Alright" he agreed warily, "what do I have to do?" Sam set up the alter for the seriously old school incantation. There were things on that table that Dean didn't even want to think about how his little brother got his hands on them. There was a craggy old paper-back book in Sam's hands and his eyes were scanning the pages like two miniature sprinters racing the words before them.
"Stand here" Sam said pointing to a chalk circle in the middle of the room, not lifting his eyes from the pages. Dean stepped carefully into the spot that was allocated for him. He scanned the little enclosure for his father, but John had disappeared two days ago, he was in the caravan somewhere but he seemed to be avoiding his sons.
"Sam…" Dean's voice trailed off as his brother started reading in a tongue that sounded like gibberish even to Dean's trained ears. He didn't like the look on his brother's face, and he was seriously considering running for the hills at that very moment. Lord knows there had to be a better way. Sam didn't respond, his eyes grew darker and his lips were set in a fierce grimace. His voice grew deeper and more threatening as the intensity of his foreign words caused his voice to waver. And then, like a great gust of wind blew through every one of Dean's pores the eldest brother was knocked off his feet. Sam stood still, staring at the book in front of him, his hands shaking, it took him a good minute to gather his senses, and by that time Dean had pulled himself up off of the floor. Sam's eyes cleared of their darkness and filled with concern.
"Are you alright?" He asked, but Dean didn't respond, he just…stood there. "Dean? Dean, how do you feel?" Still, his brother gave no answer. "Dean?" Sam's voice filled the whole tent with uncertainty and regret, yet Dean seemed unfazed. He finally moved at the sound of his name, his mouth opened but no words came out, and puzzled he closed it again with a shrug.
"Sammy?" It was their long forgotten father making his overdue entrance, "Sammy…don't do it, I've just come back from Alda's and she knows the spell….she says he won't care anymore…says he'll forget every emotion." His speech ended and his eyes finally drifted over to his sons. It was clear that he was….as usual…too late.
"Dean?" Sam tried again, shaking his head, "Dean, do you feel…anything?" His brother finally seemed to get a hold of his body and could control his mind again and he spoke.
"No." It was what Sam had hoped for, yet the victory seemed hollow in the wake of his brother's lifeless eyes. John was dumbfounded, he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of his son not being able to feel anything, he was scared, but in a way he was also sort of jealous.
"Who am I?" John asked, finding his voice, that came out as regular as he could manage, the deep tremor bringing back floods of memories in Sam's mind if he cared to linger on them, but Dean's remained blank.
"John Winchester" he said blankly, not even blinking. Sam felt a shudder of repulsion creep up his spine as he immediately regretted his rash decision. Dean wasn't Dean anymore, he was a shell, a sack of skin with no substance, and Sam began to wonder if such a life was worth living.
"I've got to reverse it" Sam said reaching for the book again, avoiding his brother's vacant stare.
"No. Not until the spirit is destroyed, Sam…it's all we've got." John said and although it was twisted, Sam agreed. Plus, even if the spell was reversed, when the spirit showed it would take his brother with it. But something in his brother's eyes made his wish that there was a better way.
"So he couldn't feel anything, Daddy?" Lucy asked and the man shook his head,
"Not one thing." He said,
"So he couldn't feel pain?" His son asked and the man nodded, "cool" his son breathed and the man shook his head,
"No, he couldn't feel any of the good stuff either…there was nothing." Something in his father's eyes made the boy very uncomfortable and so he shifted and remained silent so that he could continue on with the story.
They couldn't coax Dean into a conversation. He remained stonily silent for most of the time and Sam was beginning to wonder if he was sleeping with his eyes open. He just sat, and when night came he closed his eyes like a machine, without one word to either Sam or John for the entire day past that first no. That night there was a chill in the air and Sam and John were tossing and turning in anticipation for the coming specter, Dean however was sleeping as soundly as ever, seemingly unaware of the supernatural events that may well kill him.