Chapter 17
George rushed to lead Sam and Dean back to the main room. Dean's last words to him about needing to be worried because of the imp echoed in his mind. At first it made him feel guilty that Dean might think the only thing he worried about was some mythical creature attacking and not Dean's injuries. At the moment, he was far more worried about Dean's ribs and Sam's probable concussion. Watching the three men search his aunt and uncle's room was a revelation; they were all concerned only with this imp-thing. As he stepped into the main room looking up, George decided not to take offense to Dean's comment. It was probably what Sam always said, just Dean being Dean.
They needed to wrap this up quickly so he could get both brothers back to the hospital and thoroughly checked out. If it was true that Brad Wayne knew about this stuff, and even worse believed it, at least he might not have to worry about Brad reporting him to the hospital administration for negligence or endangering patients.
"Right here," George pointed to the ceiling.
"Right where?" Dean asked, standing directly under the spot where George pointed.
"It's their last resort. Aunt Birdie showed it to me last year at New Year's." Sam gave him a funny look. George shrugged. "Birdie can't handle her wine."
"So?" Dean demanded.
George motioned to a light switch on the wall then to the ceiling.
The intense expression Dean sported the whole way here dropped, replaced by disbelief. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me?" George shook his head. "Sam?" Dean turned around. "Time for a new plan."
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Sam resisted reaching out and throwing one of Birdie's knickknacks at his brother's head. New plan, huh? Yeah, right. He probably had a concussion, Dean had cracked and possibly broken ribs, Bobby was beat to hell, and they had a civilian and two cops. Well, at least the cops appeared willing and in good shape. He could use that.
"Dean, go get Reid and Mike. We're going to need them. And something to keep the imp in after we trap it."
"Uh, Sammy? Forgetting something?" Dean asked, one eyebrow up in that irritating manner his brother had whenever Dean assumed he forgot something.
"One thing at a time, Dean. It'll be the perfect way to find out if your theory about the gremlin is right," Sam replied, trying to keep his cool. He had to keep Dean's injuries in mind while he decided on a plan. That always made things so much harder. Dean was perfect bait, usually. Not today, Sam promised himself, Dean would not be the bait today.
"Fine." Dean headed to the front door. Sam waited, patiently he thought, until his brother returned with both cops. "Uh, Sam?"
Sam glanced over. Dean's expression clearly asked if something was wrong. Sam gave a slight shake of his head, there was nothing wrong in addition to their present situation. Dean looked pointedly down. Sam followed his brother's gaze. His hand rapped repeatedly on the endtable. Funny, he had not even noticed the noise, much less the fact he caused it. Sam clenched his hands into fists to stop the unconscious action, shooting Dean a glare. Dean shrugged, it wasn't his fault. Sam rolled his eyes, he knew it wasn't Dean's fault exactly, but he was certain he was doing it because he was worried about Dean. So, technically, that made it Dean's fault. Sam threw a glare back, which made Dean chuckle and shake his head. His brother was freaking impossible.
Bobby cleared his throat. "Sam? Got a plan yet?"
"Got something to keep the imp in yet, Bobby?" he shot back.
"We'll find something Sam," Dean cut in, motioning to the couch. "Bobby and I will be back in a minute." Dean shot Bobby a look and tilted his head toward the kitchen. Sam suspected they just wanted to talk about him, but he didn't have the energy to chase them down and confront them. If he had to be honest with himself, Sam did not have the energy to find a container for the imp, either.
He sank down into the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable considering the awful floral pattern. Sam leaned back, closing his eyes. He had to come up with something that Dean would agree to and keep his brother out of the line of fire. Easier said than done, Sam knew from experience.
If the opal was rigged to lower into the main room here in case of extreme emergencies, or as a last resort situation, then they needed to get the imp into the room and trap it here.
"George?" Sam asked with his eyes still closed. "How long will it take?"
"No idea."
Sam nodded against the couch. "We're going to need some flour, George," he said. Sam waited until he heard the man's footsteps leave the room. He cracked his eyes open. Reid and Mike stared at him.
"You do have a plan?" Reid asked.
Sam sighed. "Sure. Get the imp in here, lower the opal to take away all its powers, and trap it."
"Is it really that simple?" Mike asked.
Sam reached up to rub fingers over the top of his head, being careful to avoid the gash in back. "Never," he admitted.
Reid stepped forward to sit on the arm of the couch. "I take it you're worried about Dean doing something foolish?"
Sam shook his head. "Nope. Not at all. I'm worried about him doing something stupid."
Mike snorted. "How about if I stick close to Dean? Keep an eye on him for you?"
Sam stared at Mike for a moment. "You're certainly taking all this well. Really well." He frowned. "That's not exactly normal."
Mike shot a quick glare at Reid before turning back to Sam. "Well, lots of things aren't exactly normal, Sam. You and Dean don't corner the market on that." Then an odd smile crossed Mike's face. "But hanging with you two makes it a little more fun."
A short barking laugh escaped from Sam. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you deserve to have Dean as a friend."
Mike grinned. "Thanks."
Sam shook his head. "That wasn't exactly a compliment."
"I know." Mike winked as Reid chuckled. Reid cleared his throat. Sam's gaze shot toward the kitchen where George, Bobby and Dean headed toward him. Dean had his hunting face on and held a rooster cookie jar in one hand.
"Seriously?" Sam asked, motioning to the cookie jar.
"It was the only thing made from natural elements that we could find. Birdie really likes stainless steel," Dean said with a shrug.
"Isn't that an element?" George asked, setting a clear plastic container holding a white substance on the coffee table.
"It's refined," Sam explained. "Ceramic will work better. George, why don't you start lining all the doorways with the flour? If you have enough left over, make a big circle around us underneath where the opal should be."
"Ah, Sam?" Dean asked. Once again he used that irritating 'you forgot something' tone.
"What, Dean?" Sam demanded, pushing himself up to stand so he could tower over his big brother. Okay, maybe it was stupid, and it never worked, but Sam always felt like it gave him an edge.
"Well, shouldn't we make sure the opal really is there?" Dean asked, looking up at the ceiling.
Sam followed Dean's gaze. "Oh. Yeah." That would be a good idea. Why didn't he think of that? "George, hit it." Sam motioned to the switch.
George headed to the wall and flipped the switch. At first nothing happened, but then a whirring sound came from the ceiling. Dean pulled him back, out of the way. It might have irritated Sam, but he liked seeing Dean's protective, big-brother side coming out. It was all he could do not to let a big, goofy grin cover his face. Beaten, bruised and possibly broken, but his big brother was back!
A portion of the ceiling lowered into the room. When it reached eye level, Sam could see a box there. He flipped it open to reveal white satin with a large black ball in the center. A low whistle came from his left and Dean's hand reached into the box. His brother picked it up.
"Cool." Dean said as he examined it. "It has a cold flame in it."
"Cold flame?" Bobby asked, taking it from Dean. "What do you…oh. Huh. Never noticed that before."
"What?" Sam held out his hand. Bobby dropped the dark stone into his hand. Sam peered down at it. Just like Dean said, there was a blinking shimmer in the center similar to a flame. A cold flame. He held it up to the light and the flame shimmered with the iridescence of the rainbow. "Very cool." Sam dropped it back inside the box, motioned to George. George flipped the switch the other way and the box lifted into the ceiling.
Sam sat back down on the couch. "Now all we have to do is wait for it." He pointed out where George needed to lay the lines of flour.
"That's your plan?" Dean demanded, looking stricken. "Sammy, I could have come up with that."
Sam shrugged. "If you have a better idea, say so, Dean."
Dean blew out a breath. "Great." He took a seat opposite Sam, pulling out his gun. "Just great."
"Seriously, Dean," Sam started to feel just a touch irritated, "if you have any better ideas, I'm sure we'd all like to hear them."
Dean shook his head, checking his clip. "College boy," Sam was certain he heard his brother mumble.
"You got something to say, Dean?" Sam demanded, suddenly struck with an idea.
Dean glanced up, surprise clear in his eyes. "What?"
Sam pushed off the couch to stand again. "Come on, Dean!" Come on, follow my lead, Big Brother. "You just can't let that go, can you? But I don't see you coming up with any better ideas!"
Dean looked startled for an instant, but only an instant. "Like I said, I could have come up with that stupid idea!"
Dean called him stupid? Oh yeah, Big Brother was back in force! "Stupid? Stupid idea?"
"That's what I said!" Dean snarled, leaning in close.
Sam gave his brother a shove in the shoulder, careful to stick with the uninjured side. "You wanna back that up?"
"Uh? Guys?" Mike's voice was barely discernable in the background.
Sam watched Dean's eyes dart down and that quick tick on one side of his mouth. The imp was here, watching them. "Well?" Sam demanded, moving under the opal.
Dean followed, standing close to Sam. He didn't know whether it was to protect him from the imp or for show, but either way Sam felt relieved by it. "Yeah, I'll back that up," Dean said in a low voice that, if Sam believed it, would send shivers down in his spine. As it was, he didn't feel entirely comfortable on the receiving end. He took another step back.
"How?" Sam demanded, eyes tracking the tiny white footprints nearing them. It was within the inner circle now, directly under the opal. While Sam appeared to command Dean's attention, he saw his brother motion to George.
As the whirring sound came from the ceiling, Dean's face took on a snarl usually reserved for complete jerks in dark bars. "What's wrong, Sammy? Can't use your imagination for that either?"
"You know what? That's enough, Dean!" Sam flung an arm into the air. "I've had it up to here with you and your stupid threats, stupid ideas, and loose women!"
"Loose women?" The snarl dropped for an instant and Sam feared Dean might start laughing, but his brother recovered quickly. "Dude, I offered to share just that one time. I won't make that mistake again!" Dean leaned into his face, prodding his shoulder with one strong finger.
"Mistake? Like I would have anything to do with one of your airhead, drunk bimbos!" Sam snapped back while attempting to inconspicuously watch the tiny white prints. The box was a little over halfway down. What else could he say to keep this going? Dean didn't seem to have a comeback for the bimbo line. "And don't get me started on your car!"
"My car?" Dean's irritation melted into stricken, as though Dad had just popped up and announced he died again and oh, Dean, one more little thing you need to do…
"I mean, how stupid is it for us to drive around in such a recognizable vehicle? We should have ditched it long ago."
"Dude." Dean's eyes went wide. "Don't even joke!" Then the fury from earlier returned. "That's MY car you're talking about!" Dean leaned forward, getting in his face again, but Sam noticed his brother glance up to check on the opal. Nearly there. "You'll go before it does!"
"Oh, really?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Was that a threat?"
"No." Dean's face went cold and emotionless. "A promise." Just when Sam thought his brother might be serious, Dean reached up and flipped open the box.
"Now, George!" Sam shouted as Dean dropped the opal on the floor. White flour soared through the air, covering everyone and everything in a fine dusting. He and Dean were at ground zero, however, so Dean's face and probably his had a nice thick coating. Dean puffed a couple of times, blinking furiously to get it out of his eyes.
"There it is!" Mike shouted. Sam heard the scuffle more than he saw it; Mike, Reid and Bobby scrambling along the floor after a powder-white tiny figure. Bobby grabbed the rooster cookie jar as Reid and Mike worked as a unit to get the imp into it.
After Bobby successfully trapped the imp inside the rooster and applied some duct tape he conveniently found in the kitchen, Sam grinned at Dean. "See? Nothing to it."
"My car?" Dean asked with that stricken look again.
"Uh, uh, I didn't really, I mean… Dean, honest, I would never…" Sam fumbled for the words to set things right.
Dean's face blossomed into a full blown grin. "Dude, you are way too easy. Speaking of easy, when are we gonna hit that pool hall on the far side of town? Dude, there was that chick with the boots that came up to here." Dean motioned to his thigh. "Remember her?"
"And her boyfriend, a member of that biker gang. Dean, the last thing you need right now is to get into a fight," Sam heard himself pleading.
Dean rolled his eyes. "See George? You're not the only mother hen around here."
Okay folks, Dean and Sam will be taking a little break during November. November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo to those "in the know." I will be attempting to write 50k in 30 days of an original fiction story, so there will be very little time, if any, for fanfics. My goal was to finish this story by the end of October, but alas, it was not meant to be. I promise not to leave you hanging at the end of the month with an evil cliffhanger – honest! I have more adventure planned in this story when it comes back in December, with lots of potential for brotherly angst, affection and whumpage. The last update before Nano will be next week.