Title: Complications
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: DJ Sparkles
Rating: FRAO (language, mostly, so far)
Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue. I'll put them back when I'm done.
Spoiler Warning: Um, possible spoilers for all seasons so far… don't want spoiled, don't read. BIG spoilers for In My Time of Dying, Heart, All Hell Breaks Loose, Parts 1&2, and season 3.
Timeline: Diverges from Canon after episode 3x03, Bad Day at Black Rock. This means it's AU, folks. Alternate Universe. Some facts, features, and faces might be different than in canon. Don't like? Don't read. You've been warned.
Beta: Ithil-valon and River.. You ladies just ROCK, you know that?
Dedication: To my Darling AJ, without whom I would never have survived the hard times. Rest well, my darling. You are sorely missed.
Pairings: None so far.
Part Twelve
Dean was face down in a book of werewolf lore. Hard to read, really, since it was written in Old English, but he thought he was doing all right. Sam had the laptop open, as always, desperately searching for some form of cure for his beloved brother.
"Hey, Sam," Dean spoke as he marked a page with his finger and went looking for another book. He kept his eyes on the book spines while he spoke, still searching for the one referenced in the Old English volume. "Twenty bucks says Bobby tries to knock the crap out of Dad."
"No bet," Sam replied as he scanned page after page. "He won't try, he'll do it. Bobby throws a mean right hook, remember?"
"Yeah, but it's about all he's got. Dad's a hell of a scrapper. If he gets one good hit in, Bobby'll go down." Dean found the book and pulled it out, turning to the requisite page and growling in disgust. "Here, geek boy. I don't read Latin."
"You read exorcisms." Sam didn't look up. One of the pages had caught his attention until he realized that the formula presented was nothing but crap. Holy water didn't work on werewolves; they already knew that from bitter experience. "Bobby'll drop him like a brick. Dad's hurt, remember? He won't be able to keep up. Besides, neither one of them fights fair."
"Not from choice. Just tell me what it says, okay?" Dean didn't want to waste the brainpower on the Latin, not right now. Not when he was struggling to come to terms with new abilities and instincts from the werewolf side of himself. Even now, here safe at Bobby's, he was being inundated with new scents, new perceptions. It was almost overwhelming. "Dad may be hurt, but he's still strong. He made it here on his own, right?"
"Yeah, but he probably used up a lot getting here. Look, Dean, if you're so interested in who'd win, why don't you go watch?" Sam was getting frustrated with the lack of information he was finding. Or rather, the absolute glut of misinformation. "You know as well as I do that Bobby took him out there to knock some sense into him."
"Yeah, whatever." Dean sat back down after placing the volume carefully onto the desk with Sam. One thing Bobby had taught them was respect for books. Yeah, he'd tear out a page if the occasion called for it, but not from one of these. His rear twinged with a remembered sting from long ago swats for defacing the precious resources. "He'll end up on the ground. Dad was a Marine, remember?"
"So was Bobby." Sam was perusing the book Dean had left him and coming up empty. The Latin flowed easily through his mind, so easily it was a little frightening, but he put it down to the constant need for it in their hunting. He'd long ago memorized several exorcism rituals. "This isn't worth much, Dean. All the ingredients are ancient plants, nothing we can get now. I don't even know if there are evolved species for these."
"Bobby was a Marine?" The man grew even more in Dean's estimation. "How come you know that and I don't?" He paused for a moment, listening. The two older men had come to an understanding, it seemed. They were on the way back to the house, and Dean had a moment's pause when he realized he was hearing them from across the salvage yard. Just how keen was his hearing, now? His sight didn't seem any better, but his hearing and his nose, well, those were in overdrive.
"Because I listen." Sam's fingers were again on the keyboard, and he let out a groan of pure exasperation. "This is getting us nowhere, Dean. We need to find something else to do. We're driving ourselves crazy here." He tapped out another sequence, working on his secondary goal. He had to save Dean from his own folly. He had to find a way to break that deal.
"Hey, I listen." Dean thought how understated that comment really was in the face of his transformation. "They're on the way in." He flopped back down into his own chair and picked up another ancient text. "You do what you need to, Sam, but you start working on deal breakers and I will stop you." He had to throw that out because he knew Sam was trying to find a way to get him out of the deal, and if he tried, he'd die. If the deal was broken, Sam would die, and Dean couldn't stand that thought. Abruptly he tossed the book onto the table, feeling restless. "Let's go see who's still standing."
TBC….