Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: We're going pre-series this time! This one is set 2 years into Sam's time at Stanford to coincide with Dean saying he hadn't seen his brother for two years in episode one. I'll just shoehorn this one in there. Lol

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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O is for Obelisk -

Dean tossed his shovel up and out of sight, then gripped the packed earth sides of the grave and pulled himself out. He grunted and rolled his legs back up onto the grass. "Alright, you cranky bastard." He pulled over his bag, took out the salt and lighter fluid and upended both in a shower over the broken-open lid of the casket and the bones revealed inside.

He yelped when something struck him in the backside and took him to his knees. Dean tossed the cans aside and whipped around to find his own shovel lying on the grass behind him and the ghost a mere ten feet away. "Not funny, asshole." He rolled his eyes and picked up his shotgun. He aimed before the old man's ghost could reach him and fired, sending rock salt in a shower of spray through the air to temporarily dissipate the spirit.

He rubbed a hand through his hair and got back to his feet. Dean took out a Zippo and spun the wheel as his phone rang. "Rest in peace, jackass." He watched the flames burst to life and gave a satisfied smile, knowing the ghost was gone for good. He took his phone out of his pocket and answered without looking and a roll of his eyes. "Yes, Dad. Casper is toast. Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not comin' back to the motel. I need a beer."

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes blew wide in shock and he pressed the phone harder against his ear. "Sammy? Holy shit, Sam! Is that you?"

Sam gave a soft laugh. "Uh, yeah. Unless you've got another brother."

Dean grinned. "One midget's enough." He leaned against the dead man's headstone, letting the fire warm his legs and frowned. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why are you calling? I mean, I figured you were out and you wanted to stay out, you know?" He remembered the last time he'd been in a room with his brother and the harsh pronouncement their dad had yelled at Sam as he'd left. "I don't like it, but I wouldn't blame you."

Sam smiled sadly and was remembering the same night. "I am out. but, uh... I think I may have a problem here."

Dean straightened warily. "Our kind of problem? Dude, tell me you are NOT hunting without backup. Are you cracked? Do you wanna die?"

"Dean! Calm down!" Sam rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not hunting. Believe me, I have a normal life now and I like it, alright? I don't WANT to be hunting. It's just... I think a job found me and I need your help. And, by the way, what are YOU doing hunting alone? Dad's hanging out at a motel nearby and you're out roasting bones by yourself? What the hell, Dean?"

Dean let out his breath and his anger along with it. It was the first time in two years he'd gotten to speak to his brother and he didn't want to ruin it by being angry and stupid. "I'm fine, Sam. Long story. Let it go. I can be at your dorm in about two hours. You still in Wilbur Hall?"

Sam's jaw dropped open. "How could you know where..." he let the sentence trail off and groaned. "You asshole! You followed me?"

Dean snickered and began collecting his things, stuffing them back into his bag. "Like there's any way I'd let you outta my sight and not know where you're living." He snorted. "Please. Good thing you moved outta that shit hole room in Crothers hall too. That place had some serious roaches, dude."

"I..." Sam shook his head and couldn't decide whether to be warmed or annoyed by Dean's attention to his life, even from a distance. He settled for warmed. "Just get here, alright?"

"Two hours, Sammy." Dean promised him.

"Dean, you won't... don't tell dad, ok?" Sam asked softly.

"Yeah, no." Dean pulled his bag over his shoulder and started back toward the Impala. "I do not even wanna listen to that rant. You safe right now?"

"As I can be," Sam said uneasily. "But it's... I'll explain when you get here."

"That does not fill me with confidence." Dean tossed the duffel and the shovel in the trunk and got behind the wheel. "Just try not to do any bleeding before I get there." He peeled out of the cemetery and dialed his father. "Hey, dad. I'm takin' a few days off." Dean rolled his eyes at the expected shout. "I am not lazy, and you damn well know it. Something came up. I got a couple things to take care of. I'll meet you in Missouri next week. Stay safe, Dad." Dean ended the call in the middle of his father's confused yelling and knew that his dad would assume Dean was taking time off for a girl. He smirked. There were a lot of pretty co-ed's at Stanford; he could just get lucky. He wouldn't even have to lie when he got back.

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Sam sat on the floor of his dorm room with his back to the wall. He leaned against the end of his bed and kept his eyes covered. It had been just over two hours since he'd spoken to his brother. He was excited to see Dean again, and a little terrified. Two years was a long time to let things fester the way they had, and he didn't want to fight with Dean. He knew that the child in him just wanted his big brother to do what he had always done and make everything alright; but the young adult he was now wanted his independence and freedom to live his own life as he saw fit, without being berated and made to feel guilty about wanting to do something as simple as go to college.

Sam jumped when someone pounded on the door to his room. He slowly took his arm from in front of his eyes and opened them. He let out a whoosh of relieved breath to see only his room and got to his feet. "Hang on. I'm coming!" he called and took the four strides across the room. Sam pulled the door open, expecting his brother, and found Brady there instead. "Brady. What's up?"

"Heya, Sam." Brady grinned and landed a light punch against the front of Sam's left shoulder. "Me and the guys are heading out for some adult fun." He waggled his brows. "Alcohol and girls; the only way to spend Thanksgiving properly. You in?"

Sam smiled but shook his head. "Uh, no. I'm good here. Thanks, though."

"Dude, Jess is in friggin' Milwaulkee or whatever! She's never gonna know you got wasted and looked at stripper's tits!" Brady chuckled. "Besides, you only started dating last week. Don't let her suck all the fun out of you until after the first year."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm just not feeling well, ok? Go on. Have fun. Don't catch anything."

"Your loss, Sam." Brady shrugged and left.

Sam closed his door and then rested his forehead against the wood with his eyes closed. He wondered if Dean would laugh at him for just how much he missed his girlfriend. He snorted and decided he wouldn't even tell Dean about her. The last thing he needed was advice from Dean about women.

"You gonna sleep standin' up over there?"

"Shit!" Sam startled badly and spun to find his brother sitting in his open window with one leg in the room and a ridiculous grin on his face. "Jesus, Dean. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Dean chuckled and swung the other leg in. He stood and surveyed the small room. "Just keepin' you on your toes, little brother, and, man, I gotta say, you're slackin'. Didn't even hear me come in behind you."

"I was distracted," Sam said defensively. He sighed and ran his hands through his shaggy hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He did feel a little ridiculous for not hearing his brother sneak in. "You can't use a door like a normal person?"

"Where's the fun in that? Come on." Dean saw a backpack under the edge of the definitely too-small bed, pulled it out and tossed it to Sam. "Pack up and let's go. Got us a room at a motel a few blocks away." He shrugged again when Sam gave him a puzzled look. "Figure you wanna keep the freaky stuff on the down-low from your college besties."

"Jerk," Sam grumbled but started putting clothes into the bag.

"Bitch," Dean retorted easily and smiled. He looked at Sam, really looked at him, and decided college life seemed to be agreeing with him. Usually when he saw his brother, Sam was several blocks away through the lenses of his binoculars, where he'd have no idea his big brother was checking up on him. He'd filled out, added some muscle, but he was still lean and Dean wondered if he was getting enough to eat. It was a habit he had picked up from too often being left with a hungry, growing kid to take care of and not enough money to restock groceries when Dad was delayed on a hunt. More than once Dean had gone to bed hungry to make sure Sam was getting enough.

"My tuition grant has a subsidy for food," Sam said suddenly into the silence and looked over at his brother, highly amused and raised his brows.

Dean glared at him. "Stay outta my head." It never ceased to amaze him how Sam could know exactly what he was thinking about at any given time. And it was a little comforting to know that connection between them hadn't weakened since the last time they'd been a family. "Now, you wanna tell me what you need me for?" He had noticed the careful salt line on the window sill, and been equally as careful not to disturb it. He saw specks of white in a line at the edge of the carpet in front of the door and knew that Sam had hidden that one beneath the edge of the carpet so prying eyes wouldn't get curious why he was throwing condiments all over the room.

Sam pulled on a green hoodie over his t-shirt, zipped it up, and put his backpack over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here and I'll tell you, before someone else comes looking to get me drunk."

Dean grinned and followed his brother to the door. "You doin' college right finally, Sammy?"

"It's Sam, and I pretty much spend my days studying."

Dean groaned and clapped him on the back as they went down the hall toward the stairs. "Dude, you're supposed to get drunk as often as possible, find loose women, play the 'where did I leave my pants' game..."

"Shut up, please?" Sam reddened as two female students passed them in time to hear his brother's comments.

Dean grinned shamelessly at the women. He turned, walking backwards and winked at the one who looked over her shoulder at him for a last view. "Hey," he said easily. He turned nimbly back around, expecting to see the patented 'Sammy disgust' all over his little brother's face and had to make a grab for him when Sam gasped, slammed his eyes closed, and nearly fell down. "Whoa! What the hell?"

Sam sagged into his brother's grip for just a moment before he pulled himself free and stood on his own. He opened his eyes grudgingly and looked at Dean. "This is part of that thing I need to tell you about."

Dean scowled and grabbed Sam's arm, giving him a shove toward the door. "Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do."

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Sam sat on the edge of the far bed in the motel room Dean had chosen. He looked aroud at the peeling, lime green wallpaper, the giant, multicolored plastic cheerio looking things that hung as a divider between the beds and the front half of the room, the faded yellow carpet... and he felt a little homesick. He wasn't sure what that said about his upbringing and he couldn't decide if it was the room or Dean standing it, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest looking every bit the dangerous big brother who knew something was screwing with his 'Sammy'. Maybe a little of both.

"So, spill." Dean nodded to Sam.

"Ok. The history department is putting on this big exhibit next week. Ancient Egyptian artifacts." Sam smiled. "It's a big coup for the school. They were going to loan them to Harvard, but the dean manage to wrangle it for Stanford. Harvard's pissed, and I'm pretty sure there's going to be blood at the next football..."

"Sammy. Focus," Dean said though he smirked at the enthusiasm Sam was showing. Some things would never change. "What happened?"

"I don't really know." Sam shrugged and rubbed his hands together with a frown. "Brady's trying to get lucky with one of the seniors, and he volunteered us to help them unpack the exhibit and set it up." He looked up at Dean with a smirk. "Bobby would drool, man. Some of the things they've got in there..." His face lit up. "There's an actual page from one of the original copies of the Book of the Dead, carved in stone and everything. It's beautiful."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can call him and geek about it some other time. Get to the part where you need me and you start fallin' over for no reason. Are you in danger?"

Sam shook his head. "Maybe. I touched a lot of stuff in there helping them to set it up. But I'm pretty sure it's an obelisk causing my problem."

Dean growled and threw his arms out. "What problem?"

"I'm seeing things," Sam admitted slowly. He raised a hand. "I'm seeing the obelisk. Awake; asleep. Doesn't matter. Sometimes it's just a stone column, but sometimes it's... it's covered in blood. Sometimes it screams in my head. I turn and I see it out of the corner of my eye, and when I blink, it's gone, and it's always there and it's driving me...

"Whoa! Ok, slow down." Dean went to his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. Sam was babbling, and he just didn't do that; not since he was a kid. That told Dean just how freaked out about the whole thing he really was. "So, okay. I'm gonna go with cursed object." He sat on the other bed and looked at Sam. "Is it doing anything else? 'Cause what happened in the hall, that looked like it hurt."

Sam nodded. He pinched the bridge of his nose to back off the headache that hadn't left him for three days and sighed. "It feels like..."

"What?"

Sam shook himself and looked over at Dean. "It's like, I don't know, like I can feel my skin being peeled off of me." He closed his eyes moment, drew in a breath, and opened them again, looking directly into Dean's. "And yeah, it hurts like hell."

"Jesus." Dean could see the pain in Sam's eyes and felt the urge to kill something, preferably whatever was screwing with his brother. "Alright. So we go find this obelisk, and I say I go at it with a sledge hammer."

Sam shuddered lightly. "I'm not sure if that would make it better or worse. I need to get a better look at it. There was some writing on the base, but the guy curating the exhibit was so freaked about it almost falling over that he wouldn't let anyone near it after that."

"How big is this thing?" Dean asked and rose to pace. "Can we do a smash-and-grab?"

Sam shook his head. "It's only a little taller than me, but it's heavy. I barely managed to keep it standing. Almost got squashed."

"Damn. Ok. How good's the security where they're keeping it?" Dean went to his bag and dug through for his lockpick kit. "Electronic or is Stanford old-fashioned?"

"Both I think." Sam scrubbed his hands over his face and stood. "I just need to read the inscription. There are, like, a hundred pictures of the thing, but none of the inscription." He looked over at Dean meaningfully. "None that are clear, anyway. It's like it doesn't want to be photographed."

Dean looked at the clock and grabbed his leather jacket. "No time like the present."

"Yeah; it's late enough the building should be locked up now." Sam stood and flinched. The obelisk stood in the corner of the room; from the corner of his eye he could see it. He saw something dark and viscous dripping to pool on the yellow carpet beneath it. Everything around him fell away - the room, his brother - until the obelisk was all that was left in his field of vision. The familiar burning pain began. It spread along his limbs, into his chest, and made his heart pound against his ribs. It screamed across his nerve endings and he felt himself falling.

"Sammy!" Dean caught his brother as he collapsed and went to his knees with him. Sam's eyes were open and staring. He propped Sam's face up and watched his brother suddenly wheeze in a long breath. He flinched as a scream tore itself out of brother's throat and Dean gave him a shake. "Sam!"

Sam blinked and found himself on his knees being held up by his brother. His throat hurt and he could feel the moisture of unshed tears in his eyes. "Dean," he gasped and clamped his hands around Dean's arms to ground himself.

"Yeah, take it easy. You're ok." Dean loosened his grip and eased Sam back a little.

"We really need to figure out what's going on," Sam said breathlessly. He took a hand back from his brother and rubbed it over his aching chest. "That really hurt."

"No kidding." Dean shook his head and stood. He pulled Sam up, steadying him and watched him for a moment to see if there was going to be a repeat performance. He let go once he was sure Sam would be alright, at least for now. But it made his teeth grind knowing something was hurting him. He was at college. Sam was supposed to be out of the game and safe. And as much as it had killed Dean to watch Sam walk away and as much as he desperately missed the one person who had been pretty much a constant presence in his life for eighteen years, part of him had relaxed for the first time in pretty much forever with the feeling that at least Sammy would be safe.

"Let's go figure this crap out so you can get back to your boring college experience." Dean opened the door and looked back at him. "Seriously, dude. NO girls? No keggers?" He groaned when Sam smiled and shook his head as he walked out. "Dude, you're blowing it!

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"That's it," Sam whispered and pointed to a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Getting into the history building had actually been dead easy, considering the many priceless artifacts inside. They had climbed a tree to the second floor and gotten in thanks to a teacher who didn't close his office window before leaving for the day. "You get the doors and I'll go to the security office and get the cameras turned off."

"And the alarms," Dean said with a grin. "Don't get me busted 'cause you forgot to hit the damn off switch."

"Dude." Sam glared at his brother.

Dean shrugged. "You been outta the game for two years, Sammy. Gotta make sure you haven't lost your edge."

"It's Sam, jackass. And I can still take you." Sam turned away before Dean could protest and jogged back toward the security office.

Dean smirked and moved into a better position where he could see the doors and the softly, blinking red light on the security camera overlooking them. He got comfortable against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He looked down at his watch, clocking his brother. "Going on two minutes, Sammy," he whispered and chuckled as, at the three minute mark, the red light on the camera went dead. He gave a grudging smile. "Not bad, kiddo." God, he hadn't even realized up until now just how badly he had missed this, hunting the bad thing with his brother at his side. Yeah, he could do the job by himself or with his dad, but it wasn't the same. And part of him longed to think they could somehow go back to what they had been, even though he knew it would probably never be. He shook himself mentally and got back to work.

Sam found Dean kneeling in front of the exhibit doors working on the lock and jogged up to him. "Two minutes, forty-eight seconds."

"Fifty-three," Dean corrected him and snickered at the angry, inarticulate growl from behind him. "Here we go." He pulled his picks out of the lock and eased one side of the doors open, then squeezed inside with Sam behind him. "Where is this thing?"

Sam walked into the crowded room and frowned. "Well, it was right here." He gestured to an empty pallete on the floor. "Look around. You'll know it when you see it."

Dean sighed and took the right side of the room while his brother went left. There were crates lining the narrow aisles, their tops open and packing straw littering the floor around them, and tables and pedestals, some with artifacts already on display. Dean stopped and tapped the handle of a jeweled, golden dagger. "That'd break the first time you stabbed someone with it."

"Dude. Focus," Sam called in a loud hiss, hearing his brother's comment easily in the big room.

Dean chuckled and moved on. He eyed a jeweled and gilt sarcophagus, wondering if the mummy was still inside. He rapped his knuckles on the lid and looked up into the white eyes. "Creepy."

"Dean. It's here." Sam rounded a collection of gilded spears and looked at the obelisk warily. The stone was nearly black with age and wear, with several chips taken out of the pyramidal point at the top. "It didn't look creepy when I first saw it. Does now."

Dean looked at the thing as he came up alongside his brother and nodded. "Wasn't trying to kill you before." He waved a hand at it. "Go on. Do your thing." He caught Sam's shoulder when his brother moved closer. "But, uh, how about you don't touch it again."

"I've already touched it."

"And we're not gonna tempt friggin' fate! Hands off, monkey boy."

Sam rolled his eyes with a fond smirk and knelt in front of the obelisk. He took a flashlight out of the pocket of his hoodie and flicked it on, aiming it at the base. For a moment he just stared at it unseeing and then took a breath. "I've missed you."

Dean would never admit the warm feeling that spread through him with those three simple words. "No chick flicks, Sammy. Do your homework already."

Sam smiled more broadly, hearing the gruff affection in his brother's tone. "It's Latin." He scowled. "That means this isn't as old as I thought it was."

"Does that matter?" Dean asked and wondered if it wouldn't be easier and simpler to just take a sledgehammer to the thing.

"No, you can't pulverize it." Sam looked up and caught the startled glance on his brother's face. "Dude, your face is so easy to read sometimes." He chuckled and looked back at the inscription. "Latin means this thing is probably from the Ptolemaic period, at least a couple thousand years younger than they said it was."

"We need to find you a Latin desk reference so you can read that?"

"Dude, please." Sam gave Dean a scornful look. "You act like I couldn't speak this when I was twelve…. fluently." He leaned a little closer to the obelisk and angled the light so the carvings were more clear. "Ubi enim sunt duo stabit, commovebitur terra."

"I got 'two' and 'earth' out of that." Dean snorted and felt a little pride at Sam's still flawless accent.

"'Where both shall stand, the earth shall quake,' basically. Both?" Sam frowned and read on. "Si unus ceciderit altera tollet. Animum qui ultimo tetigit fratris. Invenies date illi tormentum et desperatio sed consistitis sude. Ruina paritar et manet in morte."

"Ok, none of that sounds very pleasant. That time I got 'torment' and 'death.'" Dean sighed. "What's the bad news?"

"I'm not really sure. I think it says 'If one should fall, the other take the mind of he who last touched… uh, mate, or brother." Sam ran the words through in his head again. "Brother. Who last touched brother shall find torment and despair of fate. But if stood together side by side or fall together, in death abide." He rocked back on his heels and stood. "There are two of them. Two obelisks."

"And you touched one so now you're screwed?" Dean asked angrily. "What the hell kind of curse is that?"

Sam shook his head. "I think… I think if we find the other one, the brother to this one, and put them together, it'll leave me alone."

Dean scowled at the obelisk and couldn't help but see the obvious parallel between him and Sam. "Wonder what idiot decided to split them up?"

Sam flinched slightly at that, feeling the sting of guilt. "Maybe they didn't have a choice."

Dean snorted. "Someone always has a choice. Where do we find the other one?"

Sam opened his mouth to snap back and then closed it. He didn't want to fight with Dean. It had been so long since he'd seen his brother and it made his heart ache with how normal and 'right' it felt to be working a case with him again. He had never imagined he'd miss hunting the tiniest bit, but now… "I, uh, I don't know. For all we know, it could have been destroyed a thousand years ago. I need to check the manifest."

"Alright, where's that?" Dean worked at swallowing back his hurt, but it was difficult.

"In the office. Back…" Sam cried out as he was wrenched off his feet. His body flew at the obelisk as his vision darkened, and he saw it covered in blood again. The air punched out of his lungs as his chest slammed into the stone. He felt hands on him, heard his brother calling his name, and then he mercifully passed out.

"Shit!" Dean grabbed for Sam as he flew through the air past him and missed. He watched as his brother crashed into the stone obelisk with a sickening thud and then seemed to hang there. "No you don't!" Dean grabbed a hold of Sam and pulled. He braced a foot against the stone and leaned backward, yelling out with the effort and finally Sam came free all at once. Dean fell backward to the floor with Sam a dead weight against his chest. "Sammy!"

Dean scooted further away from the obelisk with Sam and shifted him so he could see his face. "Hey. Sam. Come on." He curved a hand around his face worriedly. He looked so damn young all of a sudden. Dean brushed Sam's floppy bangs out of his eyes and for a moment, all he could see was the ten-year-old who begged him to make the monsters go away. In that instant, Dean didn't begrudge Sam one second of his normal life at college; he just wanted him to be safe. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up. Hey." He held on a little tighter when Sam moaned and finally blinked blurry eyes open and up at him. "Hey, little brother."

"Dean." Sam groaned and wrapped his arms around his chest. "Hurts."

"Shit." Dean eased Sam up a little and pushed at his brother's arms. "Move and let me look."

Sam grudgingly lifted his arms, letting his brother tug his hoodie and t-shirt up to get a look at his chest. He looked down himself and groaned anew, seeing the bright red line that ran up the center of his chest. It was quickly darkening into one massive bruise and the pain radiated out from it. "Ok. That really hurts. What happened?"

Dean pulled the hoodie back down and helped Sam to slowly sit up more. "I'm starting to think it's not just a cursed object. Something picked you up and tossed you at that damn rock."

Sam's eyes went wide. "Ghost?"

Dean nodded. "It's haunted. That inscription said something about brothers. So maybe…"

"Maybe it was being literal. Crap." Sam got stiffly to his feet with Dean's help and looked at the obelisk again. "We have to find the other obelisk."

"Yeah, not like we can go to Egypt and find something to salt and burn." Dean glared over at the stone. "Get your own damn brother, you asshole."

Sam smirked and braced a hand over his chest. It felt like something was broken though he knew it wasn't. He'd have been in a hell of a lot more pain if it were, though he was in enough. "Shipping manifest."

"Let's go." Dean kept a firm grip on Sam's arm, unwilling to let him go in case something decided to use him for batting practice again.

Sam swayed once in Dean's grip and led the way to the office at the back of the exhibit. He pushed open the door and went to the old oak desk. He sank wearily into the chair and pulled a thick, black binder over to him. He opened it up and started going through the pages. "Has to be here somewhere."

"Why hasn't this thing kicked someone's ass before now? Plenty of people must have touched it packing it up and getting it here." Dean asked as he poked through the books on the shelf behind the desk. "Dude, he reads Voltaire. This professor's kind of a douche."

Sam chuckled and nodded. "He uses a monocle too."

"Giant douche."

"Artifacts are almost never touched with bare hands," Sam glanced up at Dean. "Everyone wears gloves to protect them from damage, oils from human skin, moisture, that kind of thing." He shrugged. "But when it fell, I wasn't wearing gloves. I just grabbed it."

"So, typical Winchester luck then." Dean turned and leaned over his shoulder. "Find anything?"

Sam ran his finger down a page and found the entry for the obelisk. "Got it. Obeliscus ex veo cruciarus. Obelisk of the Tormented."

"Fantastic."

Sam snorted and then frowned. "It says here there were two crates, but I only saw one."

"So where the hell is the other one?" Dean asked angrily.

"Maybe it was never shipped from the warehouse." Sam closed the book and stood, grateful when Dean's hand steadied him as he wobbled. "I know where it is."

"Let's go get our Indiana Jones on." He smirked and swaggered a bit more than usual as they left the room.

Watching him, Sam smiled. "You want the hat and the whip, don't you?"

Dean stopped and looked at him. "Okay, dude. This is just getting weird. When did you start being able to read minds?"

"Yours? When I was about twelve. I just never told you." He pushed past Dean and led the way with a smirk of his own.

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The warehouse loomed up in front of them as Dean parked the Impala and he looked up at it and frowned. "Hey, here's a question. How the hell are we gonna get this thing back to campus?" He looked over at Sam and raised a brow. "'Cause we are not strapping that thing to my roof."

"Oh. Crap." Sam considered as he got out of the car. "We'll figure it out."

Dean rolled his eyes and got out with him. "'Cause that always ends well for us. Come on." He strode to the warehouse and the small door set in the side. "Doesn't look like this place is too high tech."

"Yeah, it's old. There probably aren't any silent alarms." Sam leaned against the wall beside the door in deference to his bruised and aching chest while Dean bent and picked the lock. "Can't believe this is happening because someone forgot to ship both obelisks together."

"Only you, Sammy." Dean shook his head and stood. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. "You stay close." He took his EMF meter out of his pocket and flicked it on. "Figure this might help us track it down if it is haunted and not just cursed."

"Good idea." Sam followed his brother and nodded when the meter began to whine softly as they walked deeper into the rows of twenty-foot-high shelves. They were lined with boxes and crates of every size, and it did make him feel like they were in a bad Indiana Jones rip-off. "If you see the ark of the covenant anywhere, don't touch it."

Dean chuckled and turned down a new aisle when the signal became stronger. He slowed when the meter began to whine loudly, the needle burying itself in the red. "Yahtzee." He looked around the aisle they were in and spotted a tall, wide crate. "That looks like it."

Sam went to the crate and checked the stickers. "Yeah, this is it." He put a hand out and jumped when Dean knocked it away. "Hey!"

"Think we've already established that you touchin' these things is a bad idea."

"It's the crate, Dean." Sam shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Uh-huh." Dean snorted in disbelief and at the bitch-face that Sam threw at him. "Just don't get handsy with the damn thing until we find a way to get it out of here."

"Whatever. I'm going to look around. See what I can find." Sam waved a hand and then a pointed a finger at his brother. "And don't YOU touch the damn thing or we're both gonna be in trouble." He ignored the middle finger Dean flicked at him and headed to the end of the aisle. He went back to the front of the warehouse and on the opposite side from where they came in, he found a forklift. "Nice." He patted the side of the machine and went to a long row of narrow windows behind it. Sam looked out and grinned. "Dean! I got it! There's a forklift up here and a pickup truck outside!"

Dean jogged up the aisle and found Sam standing beside the machine. He grinned. "Awesome. You go hotwire the truck. I'm gonna drive this bad boy back there and load up our souvenir."

Sam found the latch for the garage door behind the forklift, opened it, and pushed the door open enough to make room for Dean. The pickup was an old blue Ford that had definitely seen better days, but the driver's door was unlocked and Sam smiled as he climbed into the driver's seat. He started to bend down to hotwire the engine and then looked up. "I wonder…" he hooked a finger on the sun visor, flipped it down, and the keys fell out into his lap. He chuckled. "Damn, I love trusting people." He put the keys in and nodded happily as the engine turned over and sputtered to life. "Dean's going to hate you." He patted the steering wheel and climbed back out. A wave of pain suddenly rolled over him. The ground seemed to ripple beneath his feet and Sam's knees buckled. He fell to the gravel, feeling it bite into his knees, and grabbed his head as the obelisk filled his vision once more. The blood dripped and poured down the smooth sides of the stone but this time, there was a second obelisk in shadow behind it. They loomed above him in his vision and he felt like a weight was pressing down upon him, stealing his breath.

Sam came back to himself and realized he was sitting on the ground, bent forward over his brother's arm, and Dean pounded on his back again.

"Take a damn breath already!" Dean yelled and slapped Sam's back again. He stopped when his brother took a deep, wheezing breath and rested his forehead in the back of Sam's hair for a moment, just listening to him pant ragged breaths. "Holy crap."

Sam fumbled his hands up and held on to his brother's arm, trying to ground himself. "Dean… what?"

"I don't know. I drove out here and found you on the ground." Dean tightened his grip on his brother for a second and then made himself loosen it and sit Sam up on his own a little. "You weren't breathing." Sam had been seizing on the ground and clawing at his own throat, oblivious to Dean beside him. It had shaken Dean hard. "Come on. Get up and get in the truck." He got to his feet and brought Sam up with him, then walked him around to the passenger side.

"What about the Impala?" Sam asked as he sat down and wrapped his arms around his chest.

"No way in hell you're drivin' with that thing knockin' you on your ass with no warning." Dean closed his brother's door and sighed. "I'll drive this piece of crap back later and pick her up. Stay."

"Not a dog."

"Well, you look like the Shaggy Dog so…" Dean smirked at Sam as he walked away, though he didn't feel it; Sam was in far too much danger. He went back to the loader and climbed in, making quick work of driving it around the back of the pickup and sliding the obelisk in its crate into the bed. He backed it away and jogged back to the truck. "How you doin'?"

Sam groaned softly and nodded. "Been better." He tried to straighten up in the seat but his chest was in too much pain for that much movement. "Really glad it's Thanksgiving break and I don't have class tomorrow."

Dean startled and looked over as he pulled away from the warehouse. He had completely lost track of what time of year it was. "Huh."

"What?" Sam glanced over but Dean was focused on the road.

"Nothing. You got a way to get this thing into the exhibit?" Dean asked and made the turn toward campus. "Because there's no way we're carrying it. It's too damn heavy."

"There's a loading dock. It's where all the deliveries were made." Sam pointed a hand out to Dean's left. "We should be able to get in that way, and there'll be equipment for moving it."

Dean drove, following Sam's directions and kept a watchful eye on his brother the entire time. He kept expecting Sam to collapse again at every moment and his nerves were stretched to the breaking point wondering how bad it would be the next time it happened. They reached the building and had the truck parked at the loading dock in no time, though it seemed to take forever. Dean was relieved to find a forklift as Sam had said he would and drove it out to the truck with Sam standing in the bed and a hand resting on the crate.

"Thought I told you not to touch that damn thing!" Dean yelled as he slid the bars of the forklift under the crate and eased it out.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's the stone that's dangerous. Stop worrying."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear you say that. Get in there." Dean waved a hand at Sam and watched as he stiffly climbed down from the bed and headed into the building through the loading dock. Dean followed, driving along slowly behind him. How they managed to get through the building and to the exhibit hall without being busted was a mystery to him until he remembered; it was Thanksgiving. Most of the college was away spending quality time with their families. Dean watched Sam lean heavily on the door to the hall before opening it and stepping aside. He smiled to himself as he drove inside. He had a few more days before he had to meet up with dad. He'd make the best of them.

"Go left around the sarcophagus," Sam told him and followed the forklift through the aisles that were barely wide enough to allow it through. He stood by while Dean lowered the crate to the floor several feet away from its mate and frowned. "Is that it?"

Dean climbed out of the forklift after backing it off and shrugged. "I don't know. You feel any different?"

"No." Sam sighed. "We're going to have to open it."

"You stay the hell over there." Dean checked around the open crates until he found a crowbar. He went at the side of the tall crate with purpose. "If this doesn't work… I'm blowing them up. Fair warning. I don't care how old the damn things are." He pried the side loose and let it fall to the floor with a clatter. Dean took a firm grip on the crow bar and hammered it up at the top, knocking it off. He kicked one of the remaining three sides and the crate fell apart; the sides dropping to the floor. The second obelisk stood revealed and looked nearly identical to the other, except that it was slightly lighter in color. "Well?" Dean glared between the two things. "Now what?"

Sam felt a curious pulling sensation begin in his stomach. "Uh… Dean?"

"Sam, what…" Dean gasped as his brother was yanked from his feet. The obelisks began to glow and Sam was jerked forward until he was suspended in the air between them with his arms and legs outstretched. "Sam!"

Sam struggled in the invisible grip that held him tight. He shouted as his arms and legs were pulled painfully tight in their sockets and felt two cold waves of air wash over him from either side. "Dean!"

"Dammit, let him go!" Dean bellowed. He reached out to pull Sam clear and grunted as he was picked up and thrown across the aisle into the collection of spears. He went to the floor in a painful sprawl and scrambled back to his feet.

The obelisk overtook Sam's vision again. This time both of them stood together, and in front of each was a man. They looked alike, one younger than the other, with dark skin, dark hair and dressed in white shifts. They looked angrily at him, and Sam cried out as the pressure on his limbs increased. His vision was beginning to go red and black and he knew he was almost out of time.

"Habitas fratrem tuum!" Sam shouted the Latin as loud as he could. "Ne derelinquas me ad laban fratrem meum!"

Dean gritted his teeth, prepared to go flying again but too desperate too care, and ran for Sam again. He reached out to grab hold of Sam and was surprised when his hands connected. He all but tackled Sam out from between the two obelisks and they slid across the floor for several feet before coming to a stop. Dean leaned up and rolled over quickly to look back. The obelisks each flared once in a bright pulse of light and then went still and dark, looking like harmless stones once more.

"Shit. Sam?" Dean turned and looked down at his brother. Sam was gasping for breath and lying on the floor barely moving. He put a hand to his chest to feel his heart thudding frantically. "What happened? You alright?" Sam gave him a slow nod and Dean slid an arm behind his back, easing him up until he was resting against Dean's knee. "What was that you shouted at them?"

Sam coughed and groaned softly. "Uh, you have your brother. Now leave me to mine." He shrugged and winced at the ache in his shoulders. "Basically."

"Holy crap. I'm glad that worked." Dean shook his head and looked over at the stones. He glared at them. "Don't you assholes touch my brother again."

"Can we go now?" Sam asked wearily, though he wasn't sure he could actually stand at that point. He would damn well try.

"Yeah. Here we go." Dean gently helped Sam to his feet and ended up supporting most of his weight when Sam's legs threatened to give out. "We'll go grab the Impala and I'll pour you into a bed. Think you earned some naptime."

Sam groaned and took a few shaky steps with Dean there to support him. "Not a kid."

"Yeah, I know, tough guy. Been hearin' that since you were twelve too. Come on. Keep walkin'." Dean smiled as they made their slow way out of the exhibit and back to the ratty old pickup. Sam was alive, mostly in one piece, and safe again. At least he would be if Dean had anything to say about it. "Keep those flamingo legs movin', dude. I ain't carryin' you."

Sam chuckled, walking with his eyes closed, and grinned. "Would too."

"Shuddup."

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Sam pulled his t-shirt on slowly, groaning at the effort it took to get his arms over his head. The spirits in the obelisks had done a number on his shoulders, not dislocating them but coming damn close. The long, hot shower had helped some. He braced a hand over the ache in his chest. The bruise from his impact with the obelisk the night before had darkened and purpled. It looked like he'd been hit by a truck.

"Sammy!"

Sam jumped as his brother pounded on the door. "What?"

"You gonna move in or get your ass out here sometime tonight?" Dean smirked, imagining the bitch face Sam was sporting and went back to the table.

"I'm coming." Sam shook his head fondly and finished pulling his shirt down. Dean had dumped him into the far bed when they'd gotten back from picking up the Impala and refused to take Sam back to his dorm until he could walk on his own again. He sighed. That would be tonight. He was looking forward to getting back to normal and a little loathe to lose Dean's company at the same time. He didn't miss hunting, not really – his multitude of aches and bruises had reminded him of that - but he had missed his brother horribly. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he missed his dad too.

"Sam! Get the lead out!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Impatient much, Dean?" He pulled the bathroom door open and then stopped and stared. "Dean… what the hell?" The little table was covered in food; turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, biscuits, coleslaw… Sam's mouth fell open in shock.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Sammy." Dean said with a smile and nudged a chair out toward him. "If you're gonna leave your mouth open like that, at least put some food in it, geez."

Sam sniffed, watching Dean sit down and start dishing up a plate of food. He went stiffly to the table and eased himself down into a chair, then looked at Dean over the top of the small feast. "Dean…"

"What?" Dean looked at him and the expression on his face was clear - don't make this weird.

Sam sniffed again, cleared his throat and grabbed a plate. "Uh… just… where did you get all this?"

Dean grinned in gratitude to his brother for not turning it into a chick flick and tossed him a biscuit. "Lady who runs the motel. I may have batted my eyes a few times."

Sam laughed and sat back, chewing on the biscuit. His eyes were suspiciously wet and he knew Dean could see it. It made his heart hurt how much he was going to miss him once he went back to his normal life. "This is awesome," Sam said quietly and passed the mashed potatoes to his brother.

Dean nodded happily. "Yeah. It is." And he knew they both meant something other than the food.

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The End.

Next Chapter: P is for … possibly poison? It'll come to me. Lol