See first chapter for disclaimer.

Warning: Violence and slight language, but nothing too bad.

My Brother's Keeper

Chapter 8: Curses

Dean had woken up some time ago. It was hard to miss. John had winced and muttered about how he was thankful that the neighbors weren't close. He then headed for the stairs and, though it took some time, he was able to stop Dean's shouting.

By that time, Sam was also awake and pouring over books again. They were making little progress and Sam didn't want to stop, but he couldn't help himself. He wasn't sure why, but hearing Dean's angry voice had put knots in his stomach. He kept telling himself that it wasn't his brother, but it didn't help. Even though it wasn't Dean, it was still something that had hurt him, and had taken a strange amount of pleasure in doing it. He couldn't just forget what had happened to him. It was amazing how strong a memory of pain could be.

When John had come back in he could clearly see the fear in his son's expression and did something he wasn't comfortable with, but found necessary anyway. Wrapping his arms around trembling shoulders, he pulled his son close to him and just held him.

The younger hunter hadn't realized how badly he needed it until he receive the tangible comfort from John. Sam put his free arm around his father's waist. He buried his face in the soft folds of the older man's shirt and breathed in his scent, finding comfort in it.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy." John assured the boy, rubbing his back gently. He felt Sam nod and then mumble something. He pulled back slightly, "What did you say?"

"It's Sam."

John laughed and patted Sam's good shoulder. Giving it a squeeze he said, "I guess your feeling better, huh?"

"Yeah... dad?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll get him back right?"

"Definitely."

"It's just... we're not finding anything."

"We will."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

Sam's voice made John think of when the boy was five and asked endless questions about anything and everything. It had driven him and Dean crazy, trying to keep their patience with the boy.

"I just do." That had been one of the father's favorite answers.

"That's cheating." Sam replied in turn. He easily remembered the game of words he would play with his father, seeing how long he could go before the older man got completely frustrated.

"Not gonna work this time, Sammy. Get back to your book." John said with mock sternness.

"Yes, sir."

John had brought him another sandwich not too long ago, telling him that if he was well enough to complain about his nickname he could finish the sandwich this time. The older man had made sure he was eating it, but allowed him to keep the book. He was just taking a bite of the second piece when he pushed the book away. Sam set the food down and rubbed his eyes, trying to get the strain of reading the small print out of them. He was wondering if it was even worth it, looking through the old books. He was about to shut it when something caught his eye.

"Dad."

"You're finishing the damn sandwich, Sam." John ordered, not even turning to look at his son.

"No. I think I found something."

This got the older Winchester's attention. He leaned over Sam's shoulder to get a look at the book, "What is it?"

"Here." Sam said, pointing to the title of the chapter. The book was about curses, one of the more informative and reliable that John owned. The chapter was about houses.

John skimmed over the page. He chewed on his lower lip as the pieces started to fall into place.

Sam continued to read it to himself and when he was done looked up at his father, "Did you see any statue in the room Dean was in?"

"No, but I really wasn't looking. Did you?"

Sam shook his head.

"We're gonna have to go back there." John said. He thought back to the house and was disappointed with himself that he hadn't come to this conclusion first. It all made sense. The former owner was into some nasty stuff, and paranoid as hell. It made sense that he would put a trap in the house. And even though he had died long ago, the curse was still there, waiting for Dean to come and set it off.

"Why?"

"First I need to find what he touched, if he even touched anything. We may be going in the wrong direction, but it's worth a shot. And if we are right, we're going to need him there, in the house when it's 'cleansed'."

"Okay." Sam said. His eyes shot up to look at the loft, "He won't be wakin up soon... will he?"

"No."

Sam nodded, "Hurry."

John cursed at the house as he pulled up to it. He cursed at the woman in front of it too. He got out of the car and started towards her, talking quietly to himself, "What the hell does she want?"

Her back was to John, acting like she hadn't even heard him drive in. She had curly red hair down to the small of her back, and wore a thick flowing skirt and white peasant top. She held a small bag over one shoulder and a worn book in her arms.

John narrowed his eyes at her. He decided to use intimidation to get rid of her, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

She finally turned to look at him, but showed no other reaction.

"This is private property!" He growled at her. He didn't have time for this. His boys didn't have time for this.

"Well, it isn't yours."

"It sure as hell isn't yours, darlin'."

"Don't call me darlin', hunter."

TBC