Dean was woken at half past six the next morning by the unfamiliar sound of the guest bedroom door clicking open. He heard the hum of the shower and felt the bed still warm beside him where Annabelle had been lying just a few minutes before. He rolled over on to his back and stared at the beige ceiling that matched the walls, listening to the guest bedroom door close quietly, and Sam's footsteps as he made his way downstairs.

When Annabelle re-entered the bedroom, she stopped suddenly. She had a white towel wrapped around her, her dark hair sticking to the contours of her neck and shoulders, and an expression of resignation on her face. In the five minutes she had spent in the shower, Dean had dressed, packed a bag and was pulling a pistol out from the drawer by his bedside.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Hunting," Dean replied, placing the gun on top of his shirts and zipping his bag closed. "Thought me and Sam could use some bonding time, y'know?"

Annabelle made a halfhearted noise of agreement.

"I'm sorry, baby," Dean sighed. "I'll be back in a couple of days, tops." He lifted the bag and walked to the door, stopping beside Annabelle to kiss her, her skin still warm and wet from the shower. "Have a great day at work, okay?" He kissed her again and this time she managed a smile.

"Have fun," she said. When Dean came down the stairs and into the hallway, Sam was just opening the front door.

"Wait up, Sammy." Sam turned to look at Dean in surprise.

"You're coming?"

"Sure. Like you said, I'm already wrapped up in this anyway, and besides," he checked over his shoulder to make sure Annabelle wasn't nearby, "if I'm a ticking truth bomb, I sure as hell don't want to be around Anna when I go off, not after I've spent so long trying to protect her from all this stuff."

"Okay," Sam shrugged, pulling his keys from his back pocket.

"Oh no, buddy," Dean scoffed, snatching the keys from him and tossing them onto a chair on the other side of the room. "No way we're driving that thing." Dean pulled his own keys from his pocket. "If you're lucky I'll let you ride shotgun." Dean grinned and walked out to the car, and Sam was about to follow when he doubled back, remembering he'd left his notepad on the kitchen table the night before. Just as he made his way back towards the front door, he felt someone's hand on his arm. Annabelle was standing there, fully clothed, but with her long hair soaking dark patches into her green sweater.

"Sam, I know there's something's going on," she said. "But Dean isn't going to tell me, and I would never ask you to go behind your brother's back, but please, you have to tell me, is he in danger?"

"No, he's fine Anna," Sam assured, with a smile. "Believe me, I know he's a secretive person. It used to drive me insane; but after a while, I realised that if I really need to know something, he'll tell me in his own time and on his own terms. Be patient with him, he's a pain in the ass."

"Don't I know it," Annabelle said, but she seemed to relax a little. "Look after him for me."

"I'll try."

An hour later, Sam had filled Dean in on the case, and he had watched his brother's eyes grow brighter and brighter with every detail. Now Sam was sitting on a rickety metal chair in a dank motel room, watching Dean pacing the peeling floor, theorising out loud with a bounce in his step that Sam hadn't seen in a long time.

"Okay," Dean said, "we should look in to whoever cast the spell in the first place, maybe they'll have some idea of how to reverse it. Chances are it's some stupid teenager who got her hands on a book of spells and got way out of her depth."

Sam's laptop and cell phone beeped at the same time, alerting him to an email from Charlie. He scanned it quickly, his eyes jumping to the portion that Charlie had highlighted for him.

"I don't think it's going to be that simple," Sam said, turning his laptop to Dean. "I got Charlie to send me a few of the books from the bunker that we managed to digitise and I think she's found something. This is really serious magic, Dean. I don't think we can just reverse it."

Dean's eyes widened as he read the list of materials that were required to break the curse. "Water of the Deluge?" he read. "You mean water from when Noah was playing pirate adventures on the sea for forty days? Actual biblical floodwater?" Sam nodded. "You've got to be kidding," Dean breathed. "That's impossible."

"That's the point," Sam said, rubbing his eyes. "This curse is like a virus, it wants to live, and once someone gives it life, it's going to be pretty damn hard to kill."

"Well what do you suggest?" Dean asked, his eyes scanning over the computer screen again, as if looking for a loophole that Sam or Charlie had somehow missed.

"I think we should call Cas, for a start."

"No," Dean protested abruptly, standing up so quickly that he almost tipped his chair.

"Look, I know you haven't talked in awhile, but don't you think it's time you got over whatever it is that's going on with you?"

"I said no, Sammy. I don't want Cas here."

"Why not? He's your best friend!"

"He's my only friend! That's like saying you're my favourite brother, it doesn't mean anything." Sam opened his mouth to reply but Dean cut him off. "I said no, Sam, so back off."

"Give me a real reason and maybe I will," Sam shot back.

"Look," Dean said, taking a breath, "I just want to minimise the fallout if this curse gets me too. You said it yourself, Dana lost her job, that woman destroyed her marriage, some kid is spending the next four years of his life in prison…"

"But Dean, you haven't had an affair or killed an innocent person…" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Recently," Sam added reluctantly. "What I mean is, you don't have any secrets that can ruin your life, as far as I know. And there's nothing new you can tell me that would change the fact that I'll always have your back."

"That's what I'm saying," Dean said. "If I'm with you when the curse catches up with me then maybe I won't ruin my entire life, but if I'm with Anna, or - "

"Or Cas," Sam cut in, putting two and two together, watching his brother carefully. Dean fell silent. "What are you so afraid of telling Cas?"

"Nothing!" Dean said, not meeting his eye. "But you said it yesterday, I have no idea what I might say, I've probably got secrets I don't even know about, and I don't want Cas here to hear them."

"Fine," Sam sighed, accepting defeat. "But if you're not going to let me call for backup, then maybe there's something else we can do about this curse."

"Like what?"

"Well if it forces you to reveal your darkest secret, maybe you should just beat it to the punch."

"You mean just announce all my private thoughts to the world? No way."

"It might mean the curse will let you go and you'll get to say everything on your own terms."

"...Okay."

"Okay?" Sam echoed, surprised by how easily Dean agreed.

"Yeah. Okay," Dean submitted, pulling two sodas from the fridge and sitting down opposite his brother. He seemed lost in thought for a few minutes, before he looked up.

"When you were sixteen, I told Lisa Moretti that you had chlamydia." Sam choked on his cola.

"Oh my God, why?"

"I dunno. I thought it was funny," Dean shrugged, smirking at Sam over his soda can.

"That's why she said no when I asked her to prom! You're an ass, you know that?"

Dean laughed. "Well you never ended up going to prom anyways, we had that - "

"Ghoul problem in Utah, I remember." Sam smiled reluctantly. "What else have you got?" Dean thought for another moment but this time his light-hearted expression dropped slightly, and his gaze fell.

"Before I left, me and Cas had a huge fight," he said to the table. "He turned up unannounced and saw me packing and he was pissed that I hadn't told him I was leaving. We argued, he threw a couple punches and then I left and we haven't spoken since."

"Why didn't you tell him you were leaving?" Dean just shrugged. "Come on, Dean," Sam pressed, "the whole point of this is that you're honest with me."

"I knew he'd be upset," Dean said, "he'd try to stop me. Seeing his face would have made everything ten times harder."

"So why did you have to leave?" Sam said, not managing to keep the betrayal from his voice any longer. "I thought everything was fine, for the first time in years we were all getting along great…"

"You know what, this is pointless," Dean said sharply, his mood changing so rapidly it was almost as if he had never been laughing at all. He stood up, grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "I'm going to find the sonofabitch that cast this spell and I'm going to fix it, because I am not spilling my guts like some fourteen year old girl. Not in front of you, not in front of anyone."

"Dean, what are you so afraid of?" Sam asked, standing up and going after his brother, his frustration growing.

"Stay here, Sam," Dean barked. "Find something in those books."

"Dean-" but before Sam could say anything else, the door closed and Dean was gone.

Sam knew they weren't going to be able to stop the curse themselves, even if Dean tracked down whoever it was that started the chain reaction of truth, so he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and hit speed-dial two. It rang twice before a deep voice answered.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Cas," he greeted. "Listen. Dean needs you-"

And then there was silence. Sam took the phone away from his ear just in time to see the words Call Ended flashing on his screen. He called back.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Whatever it is, Sam, he can deal with it himself," Cas said, flatly.

"No, he can't, that's why I'm calling."

"The answer's no. He made his decision when he left."

"C'mon, Cas, this is Dean we're talking about. What happened to your profound bond or whatever?"

"He put an end to that."

"Please, Cas."

"No. Goodbye, Sam." Cas hung up on him for a second time, and Sam threw his phone across the room. He aimed for the bed, and it landed on the duvet with a soft thump. Sure he was angry, but he wasn't going to break his cell phone for the sake of a tantrum. So once again, doing the only thing he could do, he sat back down and hit the books.

It was already growing dark when Dean came back through the motel door, kicking off his brown boots and throwing his jacket on to the bed.

"Pass me a beer, would you? Please," he added. And Sam knew that was as close to an apology as he was going to get. He went to the fridge, freshly stocked by them that morning, and pulled out two cold beers.

"Listen, Dean," Sam started, keeping his back to his brother, bracing himself for impact. "I called Cas."

"Damn it, Sam! What did you do that for?" Dean asked furiously. "I don't know how much clearer I could have been!"

Sam turned to Dean and laughed in disbelief. "Clear?! You've been nothing but evasive for months! Maybe I just got sick and tired of you slamming doors in my face and taking out your issues with Cas on me. It's time you faced up to whatever the hell is going on between you two!"

"It was none of your Goddamn business! How many times-" but Sam interrupted.

"He's not coming, Dean." Dean faltered and fell silent. "I called and I asked and he said no."

Dean's shoulders sank and his angry glare dropped to the tabletop as though it had wronged him somehow. "Well… good. That's good," he said at last, as though he were assuring himself.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, the fight drained out of him as he pushed the beer bottle towards his brother and opened his own.

"'Course I am," Dean mumbled, before clearing his throat and clapping his hands together. "Anyway, I got a lead."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You know the girl that was killed in the hit and run?"

"Chloe Huntley?"

"Yeah, well she's the niece of Mrs. Barber, the woman from the restaurant who's doing her brother-in-law."

"Okay…" Sam said, waiting for more, but Dean was just watching him expectantly.

"Well, don't you think that's weird?" Dean asked.

"It's a small town, Dean."

"But isn't is possible that Mrs. Barber is the one who started the curse off, trying to find out who was responsible for her niece's death? Maybe she already suspected Kyle Langham so she planted the coin for him to pick up, and then when he did he admitted to the whole thing."

"But how did she end up getting cursed by her own coin?"

"I don't know, Kyle must have spent it before he confessed." Sam's mind began to run a little faster, theories, names, and possible connections flitting through.

"Okay," Sam said slowly, "so what if Kyle spent the nickel in the restaurant? As soon as he spent it, he went to the police station to confess. Then Dana the waitress puts it in the cash register, and it doesn't come back out again until a couple of days later when she gives it to Mrs. Barber with the rest of her change. So as soon as Dana gives it away, she admits to stealing and the curse moves on to Mrs. Barber."

"Surely she must have realised her curse had just come back to bite her in the ass?" Dean asked. "Why didn't she run for the hills or reverse it herself?"

"If she wasn't actually there when Kyle Langham picked up the coin in the first place, she wouldn't have kno -". Sam stopped talking, his eyes widening slightly as he looked over Dean's shoulder; there was a man standing in the middle of their motel room, dressed in a dark suit and trenchcoat with a deep frown on his face.

"Hello, Sam."

"Cas."