I'm just no good on my own, Dean thought miserably as he stifled a moan while he climbed out of unconsciousness. The first thing that assaulted his senses was pain, deep, consuming, throbbing pain. Here I go again. It's not the first time I've woken up to this feeling and it probably won't be the last, unfortunately.
Dean listened intently to his surroundings as he tried to diagnose his pain. Definite concussion, probably major, minor for sure. Keeping his breathing steady, he felt the possibility of damaged ribs but he couldn't know for sure until he moved or remembered what the hell had happened and where the hell he was. He knew it had been a couple of months since he left Derek's loft. He sensed someone else in the room. He heard them breathing.
He forced his eyelids to crack open as he tried to assess who was with him. He knew it wasn't Sam. Sam hadn't been around for the past year and a half. It probably wasn't his dad either because his dad would have noticed Dean waking up. There was another reason it couldn't be his father but he couldn't remember it right now.
He searched the dusky bedroom in the fading light. The room was filled with muted decorations in browns, oranges and yellows. There were native type designs on the wall, teasing Dean's memory. He knew what they were but couldn't remember them right now. It gave him a worse headache trying to. The light in the window was slowly lighting the room, meaning the sun was coming up. Then he saw her.
She was definitely beautiful with wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders. Deep brown eyes with mocha complexion complimented her already gorgeous face. Full ruby lips that beckoned him. She was definitely his type. She wore a loose flower print sundress with open toe sandals. Her dress stopped right above her knees. There was only one problem with her and it was a big one.
She was sitting by his bed, glaring at him, and if looks could kill, he'd be dead. He blinked once. Again it came to him that he should know her, both of them. Yeah, he was seeing double. Definitely a major concussion.
She stood over him at his bedside. She offered him a drink but didn't remove her glare. He slowly rose, testing his body. The room spun and his breath hitched as pain flared from his left side. Both his shoulder and ribs protested the movement. He gritted his teeth against the pain and took a couple of sips of water before relaxing back into the bed, breathing slow and shallow to keep from giving into his pain.
"Serves you right," she snapped irritably.
"You do this?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't think so but she obviously didn't like him.
She blinked slightly, taken back, then smirked, "I should have but no. I found you behind the bar like this. Although why I didn't leave you there, I have no idea. I mean, I know that it was just a one-night thing but did you have to have herthe same night then the next night as well? Couldn't you have waited at least a day before slutting around again?" she growled angrily.
He frowned, trying to remember. Pain filling his brain, pulsing like a living, breathing thing. He caught flashes of memory. Some of it came back to him although it hurt like a SOB. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment.
"So he did take advantage of you," an older female voice observed drily. "I thought I taught you better than this."
His eyes flicked open and he saw what looked like a voodoo priestess in the doorway, in her full regalia, no less. He looked at the two women and couldn't hold back the groan. Why me? He asked the universe who had started hating him when he turned four years old.
"Stay out of this. Please," the daughter pleaded. "I will handle it."
The older woman arched her brow, "Oh, and how will you handle it."
The daughter smirked and turned back to Dean. Dean growled and tried to roll off the bed as she started chanting with her arms stretched out. Dean managed to turn sideways and get his feet on the ground, barely. He also managed to stand up and push the chanting woman back into her chair before he realized that he didn't have a stitch of clothes on him.
The room spun viciously and he felt himself falling forward on to the woman which he decided was okay because then he could stop the chanting with his hand over her mouth. That should work, at least, until he found his gun or something. He didn't count on the white spots in his field of vision or almost passing out from the pain and exhaustion.
Slowly he became aware of hands holding him on his knees as he vomited into a trashcan placed in front of him. Throwing up hurt his damaged ribs but he couldn't stop. Stupid concussion.
Finally, he could lean back and away. He sagged heavily against the side of the bed that he had been in, both arms crossing his abdomen as he tried to get the pain back under control. He barely noticed the blanket placed around him, covering him.
He slowly opened his eyes and found the older woman in the chair now, not the young one. He glanced around and couldn't find the other one. He leaned his head back to rest against the bed and verified, "I'm cursed now, right?"
The old one cracked a slight half-smile in confirmation.
"Great, that's just great. Like this month could get any worse," he grumbled to himself.
"What do you expect when you treat a woman with so little respect?"
He started to roll his eyes but stopped pretty quickly. Eye rolling and concussions really don't mix. "It wasn't like that, damn it. I'm no saint but I've never done it to two women the same night."
"My daughter says otherwise," she argued firmly. "My daughter does not lie."
He sighed heavily and grimaced with pain."I know." She raised her eyebrows in question. In response, he observed, "Voodoo priestess?"
"Hoodoo," she corrected.
He acknowledged the correction and continued, "Any good? Know about the supernatural?"
"Decent. Which part?"
"Look at the facts and take a guess," he challenged sardonically.
She studied him a moment before asking cautiously, "Succubus?" He flinched and nodded once slowly. "And yet you live?"
"Was tied up in her cage for a day but got away before the last. . .you know," he motioned slightly. "Wasn't sure how to kill her so I looked into it and then went to the bar where I met her last. A biker that she was after took exception to me trying to distract her but I got her out of there pretending to be under her spell. Barely managed to dust her before the bikers jumped me."
She nodded deep in thought. After a moment she prodded, "And my daughter?"
He closed his eyes for a moment then stared right into the priestess's eyes. "I'm not the marrying type if that's what you're asking."
Her eyes became hooded, "So you were just using her?"
He smirked, "We used each other. She told me about her ex and how she wanted to forget him. Have some fun. That's what I am. Fun." He smirked again but this time it was more self-mocking than anything else. "Besides, I'm not someone you want to stick around. And neither does she."
She cocked her head, hearing something in his words. "Did her ex see you two together?"
He smiled in memory, "Yeah. He was an ass and started swinging. It didn't take much to take him down. Hopefully I broke his jaw. She didn't deserve what he was saying. Or, at least, I didn't think so at the time. What did she curse me with anyway?"
She pursued her lips thoughtfully. "We will get to that. I have a few more questions first." He sighed and closed his eyes again. She took his silence as an okay. "What makes you someone that I don't want to stick around?"
He looked at her through slitted eyes. "Don't know. Just figured that's the way I am."
"Why?" the priestess prodded then she saw his stubborn jaw clench. "It is to your benefit to tell me the truth. It will help me remove the curse."
He studied her then realized he didn't really have anything to lose. He almost laughed aloud at that. He hadn't had anything to lose for a while now. All of his family had already deserted him. If he were honest with himself, he would realize that the predicament that he was in now was a direct result of knowing that there was no one to go back to. No one was expecting him. No one was out looking for him. No one would even know he was gone. Except for . . ., his mind tried to argue but he shut it down abruptly.
"Why?" she repeated, knowing there was something wrong with the young man in front of her.
"Why what?"
"Why are you not someone that I want to stick around?" she reiterated patiently.
She wouldn't let it go. Just like Sammy. Just like Dad. When there was something wrong with him, they wouldn't let it go. They would just keep nagging until he admitted what was wrong with him. Then they would use it as ammunition to leave him more often. He sighed again, wondering what he was going to do now. "If I tell you, will you lift the curse?" He bargained, all the while wondering why he was even bothering. Before she could even answer, he followed up quickly, "Is it a death thing?"
She arched an eyebrow at the quick change of emotions. "If it is a 'death thing'?" He shrugged with his good side and she knew what that meant. "You are willing to die," she observed quietly. "Why? What of your family?" He couldn't stop the flinch in time. She leaned back, piecing the boy puzzle together. "They left you." She read him well and knew she had found the answer to her earlier questions. "Which is why you think . . ." Dean interrupted her before she could finish.
"Look, lady, I don't know what you're talking about or going for but I'm kinda tired and I need to get back to my room so I can get some sleep. Besides, I'm not really into the caring-sharing Oprah thing," he informed her, clearly changing the subject. "Don't need any group hugs or anything."
He slowly moved his legs up to get them under him and used his good arm to pull himself up. He swayed heavily but she stabilized him before he even realized that she had moved. He was about to thank her when he felt her gently push him back into the bed. He started to protest but she cut him off quickly.
"You cannot make it to the door, much less to your hotel. You will rest here for now and I will talk to my daughter. We will speak again when you wake up," she ordered firmly. She pulled up the covers over him. Against his will his weary eyes closed and everything faded to black. With a soft sigh, he slept.
Metallic rifts played through bad speakers slowly penetrated Dean's consciousness. He fumbled into his pocket for his phone. He finally got it out and was able to answer it about the time it would have normally switched to voicemail. He answered groggily, "Yeah?"
"Dean?" a voice questioned frantically.
"Yeah," Dean rasped, then tried to clear his throat. "Who?"
"Dean. It's Derek. Are you okay?" Derek demanded in a very panicked voice.
"Just peachy," Dean answered automatically. "Why are you so panicked? Are you okay? Liam? Is everyone okay?" He rattled off while he slowly moved to sit up, swinging his legs over the bed. He leaned his head into his hand as he bent over to cradle his side.
"I'm panicked because I've been trying to call you for the past two days and you wouldn't answer your phone. What the hell happened? How bad are you hurt? Where are you?" Derek exploded.
"Calm down, Der? Just calm down and take a breath, man," Dean instructed calmly. "Look, I'm sorry. Remember that talk we had about my job a while back? You know, the talk. Well, I was tied up the past couple of days before I could break away."
"How bad is the damage, De? And don't lie because I can hear the pain in your voice," Derek snapped irritably.
Dean sighed slightly, "About the same as usual, I guess."
"Dean," Derek warned harshly.
"A lot of stitches, more cracked ribs and several bruises. Definitely another concussion," Dean added absentmindedly.
"Come home, Dean," Derek coaxed pleadingly.
Dean's head lowered a little more and his shoulders slumped. He replied huskily, "Wish I could but I can't. It got away this time and I have to track it down before it gets too much of a lead."
"What?!" Derek exploded loudly. "You sound like you can barely walk and you're going to track something then try to take it down. Do you want to die?"
"No, I don't want to die," Dean retorted with patronization. "But I have to do this. I have to. There's no other way."
"Shit. You do want to die," Derek snarled irritably. "I'm the one who's going to have to bury you. I'm the one . . ."
"Who cares," Dean finished for him. "Derek, it's really not like that. I have to find it. Look, let me see where I am and give you a call back in a couple of hours. Okay?"
"Fine," Derek sighed reluctantly. "Just take care and be sure to call."
"I promise," Dean answered softly. "Call you soon." Dean closed his phone, ending the call. He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face.
"You need to go to this friend," her voice sounded from the doorway.
Dean snapped his head up and stared over at the doorway. "You eavesdropping on me now, you old bat," Dean growled angrily. He already felt bad about being cursed which only added to his past two months of Hell. Now Derek was mad at him too and his body ached like a son of a bitch.
The lady advanced quickly into the room and slapped Dean on the back of the head. Dean let out a yelp, "Ow! What the hell?"
"Don't you dare call me that or I'll give you more injuries. You got me, boy?" Naomi snarled irritably.
"Okay," Dean backtracked quickly. "Sorry. I . . . it's just been a hard couple of days. Shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."
Naomi sighed and ordered firmly, "Go heal up with your friend. I will get my sister and friends to go look for Heather and the other. I promise that I will let you know as soon as I hear anything. That way when we do find either one, you'll be able to handle the rest."
Dean studied her for a long moment then acknowledged reluctantly, "Probably right. You promise . . ."
Naomi placed a hand on his shoulder and stared him into eyes then explained intently, "You were cursed by my child over something that wasn't your fault. Plus, she added black magic which is not allowed in this house. You have been wrongfully harmed by my child. I must make it right so, yes, I promise."
Dean stared into her eyes for a long moment before he relented softly, "Okay. We'll exchange contact information then I'll head out."
"You sure you're ready to go?" Naomi verified cautiously.
"I'm sure," Dean confirmed. "I've driven with worse."
They exchanged information and within thirty minutes, he was on the road to Derek's house. He called Derek to let him know that he was on the way. The search for the succubus would have to wait.
