A/N: Sam girls... you so rock. *bows to your collective powers of bunniness*
Black cloth cradles white paper. Kitchen, steady candle flame.
"You are covered."
Slowly, deliberately, Sam scoops up dried dill, sprinkles it over the page.
"You are smothered."
Vervain now. So much depends on mental associations, and Sam's visualizing, working to equate the sheet with the curse.
"Trapped you stay..."
He doles out powdered ginger. The paper's almost buried. He thinks of white skeletons, leeched skin, the suffocating cling of paper.
"In every wahh... HAHhhh-hahh... h-h-HIH-KGFFHBPJJJSHSHSHH! HASHSHHOOOOO!"
Across the table, Dean snickers, brushing down. "Curry spice: three. Winchester: zero."
Sam sniffles, blows his nose... caresses his hexed laptop. "One more try."
A/N 2: This is part of a (debates quotation marks) real spell, taken from a Wicca site. You equate the piece of paper with the curse you're countering... bury it in spices... wrap it up in the black cloth... and I do believe, bury it in the ground someplace; after that, the curse should be gone.