Before we start, I just want to point out that Dean feels a certain sympathy for abused rabbits... is it too much to assume that someone (The Kripkeeper, perhaps?) read "The Bunny Hop?"

Yeah, I thought so, too. Anyway, enjoy :)

Chapter 4

You Caught Me Off-Guard

"I don't think this is such a good idea," Sam muttered as he stood outside the crowded bar with his brother.

"Stop yelling," Dean ordered, "I know you think it's stupid. I know you think that we should call Bobby and find out what's going on. The thing is, though, you don't want to make Bobby mad, and given the time zone difference and the current darkness, he's probably asleep or trying to get there. It's best not to wake him."

"I wasn't yelling," Sam replied, following his brother into the bar, "and we can wait until tomorrow to call. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be waltzing around given your…condition."

"My condition?" Dean asked, scoping out the bar for any hot chicks or easy hustles, "and what, exactly, might that be, Geek Wonder?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I guess you kind of developed superpowers."

"You guess? What part of ripping the door off its hinges and traveling across the continent in an hour leaves room for guessing?"

"We don't know if that's all you can do," Sam reasoned, trailing behind his brother as the older man headed to a booth in the back and sat down, "and we're not even entirely sure if there are any limitations involved in this."

"Like?"

"Like, for all we know, each time you… you know, whatever it is that you do, you're sapping your energy or life-force or whatever and slowly killing yourself."

"Or maybe each time I… you know, I'm just being totally awesome and you're jealous." Sam glared at him, but Dean honestly couldn't see his brother's reluctance to join in the party. In the older hunter's book, it didn't get much cooler than developing super-human powers, and, although Sam had had his own special taste of being special, Dean was new to the whole thing, and was loving every minute of it. Besides, it wasn't his fault if he got super strength and speed and Sam got death visions. It was out of his hands.

"I'm not jealous, Dean. It's a curse. It's gotta be a curse."

"Then show me the downside, Sammy, because I'm drawing a blank on the consequences."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but didn't get the chance as worry for his brother overcame any and all snaky retorts. The smile that had been permanently etched on Dean's face since his triumphant return from Canada fell from his handsome features in an instant as his hands flew up to his ears and he slammed his head down on the scuffed table with enough force to crack the wood.

"What is it?" Sammy asked, sliding from his place across the table from his brother to sit beside the older man and placing a reassuring, yet nervous, hand on Dean's back. He was completely unaware that the concern he had voiced only added to the problem.

If Dean had been able to find it in himself to reply to Sam's question, said response would have been laced with words and phrases that would embarrass even the dirtiest-mouthed of all sailors, yet still would not have been able to aptly describe the pain that had invaded his mind as the volume in the bar had been cranked up to a level that no mere mortal would have been able to handle. Instead, all he was able to manage was a soft moan, one that was amplified to a horrible level as it reached his ears.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, louder this time, unsure that his brother had heard his first attempt to assess the situation, unaware that Dean had, in fact heard every word, every breath, every twangy note, every crunch, every sip, everything that had happened in the bar at that exact moment.

"Whisper," Dean choked out, turning pained eyes up to his brother.

"What?" Sam asked, finally lowering his voice, "you want me to whisper?"

Dean nodded slowly, the sharp ache in his head protesting every movement, every sound, every scuffle, every breath. "Too loud." His hands were a weak defense against the onslaught of sounds, the cacophony whirling through his head.

Something like realization dawned in Sam's eyes, and before Dean could protest, the younger man had pulled his brother from the booth and slung one of the older man's arms over his own shoulder. He wrapped his arm protectively around Dean's back and led the other hunter out of the bar and into the quiet night.

Well, it seemed quiet to Sam, at least. To Dean, it was no better than the bar. The bugs whirring through the air, the sound of cars speeding past in the distance, even the wind rustling through the trees was enough to make him go crazy.

Fortunately, Sam had a better handle on the problem than Dean did, and, thinking it best to leave the car in the bar parking lot, began the slow and laborious walk back to the motel room.

Dean stopped him before they even left the lot, though. He absolutely refused to leave his baby behind, even if the sound of her engine alone would have made his ears bleed.

"We're not taking the car," Sam argued in a whisper, realizing too late that his mouth was right beside his brother's ear. Dean flinched away from the sound with enough force to nearly send Sam toppling down to the ground.

"Do you have any idea how stubborn you are?" Sam demanded, turning away from his brother to whisper his discontent. Dean reached up weakly and grabbed Sam's chin with his hand, obviously being careful not to use too much force. He turned his brother's head around and gave him a look that clearly meant that he understood the problem, but wasn't about walk back to the motel and leave his precious Impala to face the elements alone.

"It's quieter out here, though," Sam argued.

Dean shook his head. "Still loud," he muttered, wincing at the grating sound of his own voice as it hit his ears, "out here."

Sam looked around, eager to find the source of the noise that was irritating his brother and make it disappear. It was then that he noticed the crickets, the cars, the dry leaves crackling across the pavement. "It's better than the bar or that boat you drive," he insisted, again turning away to whisper, "so I don't know what you want to do."

"Fix it," Dean moaned through gritted teeth, "please."

Sam, who had been about to kindly point out to his brother that he had told him so, softened at the desperate tone in Dean's voice. Anything was worth a try.

"Ok," he attempted quietly, "I've got an idea." Dean nodded. "Just listen to my voice. Tune out everything else, all the bugs, the cars, the wind, everything. Listen to me." Dean closed his eyes with the effort. "Remember when we were kids and we used to read all those old comics? We'd just go to the drug stores in the Podunk little towns and stay for hours reading, remember that?" Dean nodded. "And you liked Batman best because he didn't have any powers."

Dean nodded again, gulping back the lump that had formed in his throat with the recollection of those memories. Before his mom had died, before his dad had changed, before Sam had become more like a son to him than a brother, Dean had loved Superman. Who didn't want to be able to run faster than a speeding bullet, leap tall buildings in a single bound, be stronger than a locomotive, and get mistaken for birds and planes?

After his mother's death, though, Dean had changed. Superpowers weren't cool, anymore. There were no heroes looking out for the little guy. There were only normal people who did something about injustice, who suffered greatly, who lost their loved ones and went on the offensive. John had been one of those people. Dean was one of those people.

"But I liked Superman," Sam continued, turning his face slowly back toward his brother, "I felt different than everyone else, just like Clark Kent. I was a freak, I guess. I told you that and you just laughed."

Dean smiled at the memory. He found it easy to focus on Sam; after all, he'd always focused on Sam. It was his job, to take care of his pain-in-the-ass little brother. He honed in on Sammy's voice, and the world seemed to fade away. Every bug, every gust of wind, every speeder flying down the highway. Even the sound of the police sirens as the speeder fell into a carefully-set trap didn't bother him. He just focused on his brother's voice.

"You said," Sam began, a little louder, now looking at his brother as the older man opened his eyes.

"I said," Dean grinned, "that there aren't any freaks among freaks. You're in good company, Geek Boy."

"I'll say, Supes," Sam replied with a wide smile, "come on, let's go home."