Sam clicked the "back" button on his internet browser . . . again. He hadn't found anything and he'd been sitting on this stupid couch for hours. Dean had helped Jo to the kitchen, where he gave her ice for her headache and she offered to set his arm. He had smiled almost condescendingly before assuring her that Sam would do it. Said little brother argued loudly that he wasn't in any condition to be doing things like that, and Dean told him to shut up. Rolling his eyes in frustration, Sam actually had set the bone back into place and then told Dean to go away so he could concentrate. Obediently, the elder Winchester took Jo and left, saying something about research. They had now been gone for – Sam checked his laptop clock again – four and a half hours. Not only was he disappointed that he couldn't find anything on his current predicament, Sam was also irritated that he was still sitting here, alone. A demon could walk right through the door and Sam wouldn't be able to do a blessed thing about it. In fact, he'd probably end up getting stuck in the devil's trap with it. Sure, Dean had salted the entrances to the cabin, but for some reason that didn't feel like enough. Sam just felt helpless, defenseless.

He tried to ignore the pain shooting through his leg from the way he was sitting. He had tried an infinite number of positions and none of them were comfortable. Getting stuck on a couch when you've nearly bled to death was apparently not a good idea. He scratched his nose as a familiar pain started up behind his eyes. Oh, great, he thought. I'm going to have a vision while still recovering from previous wounds, trapped on a couch in the middle of nowhere with no defense. He thought he'd been taking everything pretty well up until this point. Now, he was starting to get angry. Angry Winchesters were never good.

----------------------

"We need to go back," Dean growled at Jo, fidgeting in his chair. "We've left him alone for too long."

"Sam's a big boy, Dean," she said sweetly, staring at the menu in front of her. "He'll be okay."

"Okay? He's been stabbed and beaten up – by us, I might add, and now the poor kid can't even go to the bathroom if he has to."

"That's a disgusting thought."

"It's true. And here we are, sitting in a diner to get dinner. What if he's hungry?"

Jo put the menu down. "Fine. You're right. Let's go check on the poor kid."

"Don't call him that."

"But you just did."

"Yeah, well, I'm his big brother. I can call him whatever I want."

She sighed. "Let's just go, then, okay?"

They slid out of their seats and went to the Impala. After making one stop at a fast-food restaurant for dinner, the two of them went straight to the cabin to check on Sam. As they approached, Dean heard a voice . . . and quickly recognised it as his brother's. Confused, he stepped in, expecting to see Sam on his phone. Instead, he found the tall hunter, trying to stretch across the length of the too-short couch, eyes closed, hands behind his head.

" . . . I'm good, thanks for asking," he was mumbling. "And yourself? Good? I'm so glad that you . . ."

"Sam? Are you asleep?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Nope," came the reply without any other acknowledgment.

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Sam's eye finally opened. "I can only have a conversation with a computer for so long, Dean." He sniffed the air. "Please tell me that's food. I'm starving."

Jo held up the bag proudly. "Dinner is served, then," she said with a smile.

Halfway through dinner, Sam said, "So, did you guys find anything?"

Dean glanced down, unable to look his brother in the eye. "Uh, no. Did you?"

The younger Winchester's eyebrow raised. "Did you look for anything?"

"Of course we did," Dean snapped, looking up.

Sam sighed. "Sorry, Dean. I'm just a little edgy."

Dean softened. "Yeah, well, you're the 'special' one, so none of this should surprise any of us."

"I just keep thinking that nothing else could possibly go wrong today," he grumbled.

"A lot more things could go wrong, Sammy. I mean, at least we haven't found any real people that are hunting you this time." After noticing the dark glare he received from his brother, Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"Did you have to say it out loud, though? I'm probably jinxed now."

"It wasn't like you didn't already jinx yourself by thinking nothing else could go wrong!"

Sam took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said slowly. "I know you're just doing your best."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "Christo," he muttered under his breath.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to be patient. "I already told you it's just me," he said. "I can't believe you said that."

"I had to check. You know as well as I do that demons lie. Why would a demon admit to possessing you if it knew I would exorcise it right away?"

"Could you two just stop for a minute?" Jo finally cut in. Both Winchesters turned to look at her. "I mean, you've been at each other's throats since we got here and it's not helping anything."

They continued to stare at her for a few seconds, before Dean said, "Do me a favor . . . shut up."

Sam opened his mouth as Dean turned to look at him and said, "You, too. Both of you, just be quiet until we figure this out."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked softly.

"Fine, Sam; fine. I have a broken arm from who knows what, I think I gave my little brother a concussion, said brother had to stitch himself up because I was unconscious on the floor from my own stupidity, I have a headache, and I haven't got a clue what to do to fix all this. So, yeah, I'm fine."

The younger Winchester glanced at Jo, who shrugged. "Maybe we should call it a day and figure this out in the morning," he said. Jo nodded her approval.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. There's not a bone in my body capable of doing that."

"Why not? You're exhausted."

"In case you'd forgotten, Sammy, you're confined to a couch with some pretty serious wounds and blood loss. As your big brother, I have failed to protect you, but I can still fix it. And it's what I have to do. So shut up."

"Dean, you can't just –"

In frustration, Dean grabbed a bottle of holy water off the table and threw it at his brother. Since Sam hadn't reacted to him saying "Christo," he assumed there would be no reaction to the blessed water.

He was wrong.

It splattered all over Sam's face and arms, and the younger hunter groaned as it burned, smoke rising off from it. He sank to his back on the couch.

Dean and Jo watched in awe for a minute, an finally Dean stepped over. "Sam? You okay?"

"No," came the grumbled response as the last of the steam faded away.

"Are you sure you're not possessed?"

"Not anymore."

"Would it offend you if I tried exorcising you? I mean, we have to get you out of there."

"Did you ever think that you could just break the trap?" Jo asked timidly from her previous position. "It's worked before."

Dean narrowed his eyes in anger, not so much at her, but at himself for not thinking of it hours earlier.

"No," Sam said suddenly, eyes clenched tightly. "You have to figure out why I'm stuck here before you let me go. I could be dangerous."

"You? Dangerous? Not a chance, Sammy," Dean said, adopting his characteristic grin.

When there was no answer, he leaned over the couch to look at his brother's eyes, which were now riveted on the ceiling. "I didn't draw that," he said.

Dean looked up, then back down. "You said you did. How else did it get there?"

"No, I drew the devil's trap," Sam said. "But I didn't draw that." And he pointed to a few extra marks that had been made next to the symbol on the ceiling. They were made with blood, and comprised a new symbol that neither Dean nor Sam were familiar with.

"Are you sure?" Dean queried. "Absolutely sure you didn't accidently do that?"

"I'm positive," Sam said, never taking his eyes off the bloody mark. "Let's find out what it is, shall we?"

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Note: Thanks again for everyone's support. This chapter is a little slow, but I promise there's more to come!