Sam stood at the sink, hand grip tight to steady his balance, staring out the small window into the darkness beyond. He heard Dean call for him but didn't respond; hauling Dean out of the tub had made his head spin, the dizziness had yet to subside and he'd yet to gain control of his shaking arms and twitching back.

"You…..aah….want me to get him?" Garth poked his head out the door but his body was behind what safety it offered. "I can….you know, see what he wants…?"

Sam waved him on, groping for the chair and lowering himself into it before he hit the floor. He crossed his arms on the table and carefully lowered his head, praying his nose wouldn't decide to bleed out again. He needed a moment to regain his equilibrium and convince his quaking limbs to obey the command to cease and desist their uncontrollable trembling.

The Problem: Dean, cursed by a charmed talisman; Sam, weak and exhausted from an illness not of earthly origins.

The Dilemma: Neither could be cured or healed or helped by a human doctor or modern medicine.

The Issues: Obtaining the cure for Dean and ensuring there was adequate time to heal him: Sam weak and unsteady and at the end of his physical limits yet needing to push on to save his brother.

The Solution: Garth

Resisting the urge to thunk his head repeatedly, Sam rolled his forehead on the table top, Okay, pull it together Sam, this is one time you can't expect Dean to make everything all better….it's your turn to take care of him – whether he likes it or not. With a sigh, Sam pushed up from the table and pulled the laptop around. The cure….hell, they just had to be holed-up in a cabin that lacked electricity in the middle of nowhere during a frick-fracking monsoon somewhere in Kansas or, for all he knew, Missouri.

His eyes strayed to the bottle of aspirin. How along ago had it been that he'd taken any? Dare he take more? Probably not a good idea…he didn't really want any more nose bleeds. Sleep would no doubt benefit him but….no, Dean came first and that meant finding the strength and means to make the cure. He swallowed three aspirin, cast an eye across the room to make sure Garth wasn't about to dump Dean in a heap on the floor and turned his attention to the computer.

"Hey." Dean heaved a heavy sigh when Garth presented himself in the doorway, all happy smiles and thumbs up.

"Sam's….aaah, taking a breather….he's wiped out man." Garth explained. "What you doing? Oh, trying to get up, huh?"

Dean wanted to care, he did…and he did care…it was just…..right then…..he was in too much misery to give Sam any sympathy. 'Yeah, yeah…whatever…." he extended his right hand. "Help me up."

"Okay….upsee-daisee…..here we go. One, two…..and we're up!" Garth crowed in delight. "Bed?" Dean was unsteady and Garth stumbled under his weight but kept his feet. "Wow, so okay...you..you're not gonna walk on your own, huh? No problem, I'm right here."

"Sofa." Dean corrected tiredly.

"Sure. Guess Sam couldn't find you a shirt." Garth huffed and puffed and panted. "What, none clean? I doubt mine would fit but…."

"Can't get one on." once on his feet, Dean was able to hobble, hop, hobble on his own. It was getting up and down that required help, stomach and leg muscles refusing to clench.

"Oh….well, what about…..?"

"I had a…..blanket….." he was shivering from exertion or maybe it was from being cold, or both….hell he didn't know nor care. "You…you're here? Sammy let you in?"

"Aaah…..yeah. You said a blanket…? Oh, yep, right there." Garth removed it from the bed and carried it over to the sofa where Dean snatched it from his hands. "Okay, ok, chill out."

Dean stepped around the coffee table and tried to sit down but his hip and buttock protested and he stumbled forward with a groan. He reached out to stop his forward fall and remained humped over with both palms planted on the coffee table, breath coming in pants. Garth stared at him stupidly, no idea what to do or what the problem was.

"Hey." Sam was beside him. "Get your weight off your left shoulder. Bend your right knee and left gravity take you down…..you won't fall, I'm right here….I've got you."

With Sam by his side, Dean collapsed and let him ease his descent to the sofa. He ended up going face-first into the pillow against the arm but he was down. He maneuvered ever-so-gingerly until he was laying on his right side, Garth prancing about behind the sofa, making sure he was covered with the blankets until only his ear was visible.

"You good?" Sam asked, plopping his ass on the coffee table. "I'll go to town first thing in the morning….." wherever the fuck it was. "….and get your prescription filled." Sam said tiredly. "Until then, you're just going to have to make do with what we have and that's ibuprofen." he remembered the white packets. "Or Vicodin."

"Fuck you Sam." Dean mumbled from the sofa, too ill with pain to even flip him off. "The violin…..that what I took?" he nuzzled his cheek against the pillow. "Oh God, lemme die now…." he moaned pitifully.

"Don't say that." Sam reprimanded sharply. "Christ Dean….."

"Gimme more…from…..the car."

"No."

"Why not? There's enough…I took….a lot."

"It's Toradol Dean! It's not shit you wanna fuck with and I don't know enough about it. I can't even figure out why the hospital had sample packets!"

"Huh? Well, so what? They work….so…gimme."

"No."

"Sam…come on…you want me to beg?"

"Won't matter. The side effects scare the shit outta me."

"What? Dry mouth? Blurred vision? Nausea?" Dean scoffed. "Been there…."

"Ulcers, gastrointestinal bleeding, perforation of the stomach or intestines, which can be fatal."

"Meh, I'll be ok."

"Renal failure, cardiovascular thrombotic events, myocardial infarction, and stroke. All of which can be fatal Dean." Sam continued to read from the list on the screen of his phone. "These events and/or symptoms can occur at any time during use and without warning."

"Saaa-ammm…" Dean groaned. "Gimme."

"You know Dean….if you weren't in so much pain you couldn't get up on your own, I'd put you flat on your back in bed for a month from the ass-kicking I'd give you!" Sam fumed. "Toradol is given following IV dosing of Ketorolac…which you didn't have. It's not recommended for long-term use. I don't know the strength of the pills…."

"No long term…..just 'til you get the 'scription filled."

"Yeah, and that's for Dilaudid." Sam said flatly. "I'm not happy about that either."

"Went down a flight of steps Sammy."

"Keep it up and I'll smother you with the pillow." Sam threatened. "And it was a flight of stairs, you ass." he set his phone on the table beside his hip and rubbed his red, swollen eyes. "You need to eat…can't take it on an empty stomach. They won't even give it orally to patients in the hospital unless they are eating and drinking on their own. That's some serious shit."

"Sam….."

"Dean, please. Give it and me a rest." Sam sighed. "You never should have taken it in the first place." he shot Garth yet another glare of death. "I'm wiped out. Just go to sleep."

Dean buried his face in his fleece. "Gimme the violin then."

"No." but Sam was beginning to weaken. "You don't always respond well to strong meds, Dean. Garth never should have given you anything until I'd had time to research it and see if it contained any opiates."

"Don't need you anyway." he muttered. "Do just fine on my own."

"Oh yeah? Say, how soft and comfy is that sofa? Why don't you get up and go lie down in bed? Oh, right…yeah, you can't, 'cause you can't get up on your own." Sam gushed sarcastically. "Don't need me? How was getting out of the tub? How'd that work out for you?"

"Have Garth." Dean muttered, ignoring Sam's mini-rant. "Sam…..come on…have a heart." he begged, extending his arm, palm held up. "Please?"

"Here's a package of crackers…eat them and you can have the Vicodin."

"Not hungry."

"Not negotiable."

"They're stale. Any donuts?"

"Sure Dean, yeah sure. Jelly or glazed?"

"Don't be a prick."

"Crackers and Vicodin or ibuprofen."

Dean accepted the package of peanut butter and cheese crackers with a lip curled in disgust. "Three?"

"Six."

"But I don't….want…" Dean ducked at the look directed his way. Man, Sammy sure could say complete sentences with some of the faces he made. "Okay, ok…have it your way, burger king."

Sam got up to stoke the fire and add another log. "We have a problem." he walked over to the sink for a cup of water. "Garth was right about the talisman." he sat down on the table. "That's two." he said to Dean. "Four to go." how long until morning anyway? "You…aah, feel up to riding…" he hadn't thought it possible but Dean went paler and Garth hung over the back of the sofa with a wet cloth to blot the sweat from Dean's forehead and cheeks "So, no, then?"

Dean turned his face away from Garth, growling a threat of where the cloth would be shoved if he didn't stop.

"It's just…..I'd feel better if we were back at the bunker, you know?" Sam counted the consumption of a third cracker. Truthfully, it wasn't a good idea to move Dean. Course, he could try to get up on his own and fall and hurt himself just as easily but….

"Sam….let me be." he whipped his head around, teething snapping in an attempt to bite. Garth jumped away, leaping back, and counting his fingers to make sure there were still ten. "I'm not getting in the car with your erratic driving. You ain't fit to be behind the wheel."

Sam got up and brought back one of the pails he'd used to lug water and set it on the floor next to the couch. "Puke in this. Don't go trying to get up on your own." he told Dean. "Garth, enough. God, do you ever know when to stop? What's his problem?" he complained to Dean.

"Scared shitless of you." Dean retorted. "And you look like shit."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Sam assured him hastily. "Just need some sleep….head hurts a bit….." he let Dean get away with eating only four crackers and gave him the Vicodin. "You good?"

"No." he wanted ice and a heating pad and strong meds and a bottle of whiskey. "Feel like I got kicked down a flight of steps." he joked. "Seriously, if I'd felt like this in the hospital, I mighta stayed."

"Stairs." Sam corrected absently. "Concrete stairs and the talisman was cursed with magical charms." ok, so Dean was speaking in complete sentences, the words came slowly, with a bit of a slur but he was lucid. And he paid no attention to the fact he was cursed; he simply didn't care.

"Whatever." he squirmed. "Ow doesn't cover it."

Sam bit his lip, so no help would be coming from Dean. He sat once again on the table, facing his brother, who while lying limply was tense. "I can break it….the charm….it's….it can be….the cure is simple." he thumbed his eyebrows, vision grey and ears ringing. "It's…just….I need you to behave Dean."

"Wha'm'I gonna do?"

"Be you." Sam snapped shortly. "Give me a hard time." he continued bluntly. "But Dean, I'm flat-out telling you, I'm not up to your usual antics. I'm just not. And don't even point out Garth's here….I'll smack you until your ears bleed."

"You wouldn't feel…so bad if you'd stayed home where you belonged."

"If I had, you'd be dead."

"Garth would have…." wrong thing to say. Full-blown conniption fit happening right there in front of him on the coffee table. "Ok, okay…..right…sure, no…bad Garth." he let his eyelashes flutter, quickest way to weaken Sam's grip on that tight leash he kept on his emotions. "Garth's bad."

"The weather….." Sam looked at the window as rain slashed and pinged against the pane. "Think Garth can handle the car….." he turned back at Dean's sound of disgust. "Now what?"

"My car?" Dean chirped, rousing and coming up on his elbow. "No fucking way. You let him get behind the wheel of my car and I will end you."

"Then I'll go." Sam got to his feet. "Someone has to….."

"Sam?" Dean went down, burrowing into the depths of the sofa cushions, pillows and blankets. "You can't drive."

"I'm open to suggestions Dean. You won't let Garth drive, you don't want me to, and you sure as hell can't. Fuck, you won't even get in the car."

"Sam...I'm telling you...and for once in your life, hear me. You let Garth behind the wheel of my baby in this rain, on that dirt road and he will drive her straight into a ditch." not a slurred word or missed letter, voice strong and clean and adamant.

Sam sat on the table until Dean succumbed to the medication, then stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed. Dawn was roughly an hour away, but he'd be able to catch a couple of hours of sleep before being on the road by eight.

***000***

Sam woke, fuzzy-headed, dry-mouthed and exhausted. He washed up, dressed, allowed Dean more pain meds, despite the fact he refused to eat, ate an energy bar and was attempting to discern the closest town to their location when the sound of an engine roaring to life blasted the peaceful stillness of the cabin.

"What the fuck?" he cocked his head to listen. "Oh, no." he shoved to his feet and hit the door running. He leapt off the porch and promptly slipped in the ankle-deep mud. He fell hard on his ass, hands splayed behind him to break his fall. He sat on his ass, in the mud, rain a steady downpour and watched Garth spin the Impala's tires, digging ruts and burying her ass belly deep in the mud.

Sam was going to kill him.

"JESUS CHRIST GARTH! CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?" Sam slopped around in the mud before finally gaining his feet and surging forward with all the grace of an enraged bull. "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" he yanked the driver's door open and dragged Garth from behind the wheel by the collar of his coat. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" he shook Garth about until he resembled a puppet dangling from string.

"ACK!" Garth squawked. "She's an ass heavy car." he whined defensively. "I'm not used to rear-wheel drive….her weight….." Sam dropped him, hands in his hair as he surveyed the dismaying sight of the car, rear tires sunk so deep in mud, they couldn't be seen. "I just wanted to drive to town….get what we need…bring you back something hot to eat."

Sam ducked in and switched the ignition off then reached down and hauled Garth to his feet by his ear. "Push." he gave Garth a hard shove to the rear of the Impala and got in behind the wheel.

The Impala gave her all, but not even Sam could coax her out of her bed of mud. He toyed with the idea of waking Dean up to drive her out but reality told him even Dean would fail. Then would come Dean's outraged righteousness over Garth attempting to drive the car; Sam would have to hear, "I told you so' chanted at him repeatedly; (like Sam had allowed Garth to steal the keys); deal with Dean's insistence to help get the object of his affection free of her mud prison and listen to the reprimands of the proper way to treat his baby.

No, just no. He wasn't up to any of that. Besides, Dean was in no shape or condition to push the car or dig with a shovel or gather enough wood to layer the mud and give the car traction. He could have used his help though, would have welcomed it under different circumstances. Relying on Garth for help, who once again was responsible for the situation they were in, was going to give him an ulcer, if not a stroke.

Sam sighed, staring at his second and last pair of shoes; there'd be no saving them after this day was done. His dress shoes were lost at the hospital with Dean's cell phone – top two items on the list of things to buy.

"Move." Sam ordered. It was going to be a long day.

Garth had heart and gumption and determination and a willingness to never quit. He tramped the woods alongside Sam, selecting and lugging and layering twigs and limbs and small logs. He got on his knees next to Sam and dug in the mud with his hands when shovels proved ineffective to free the tires of their prison.

He pushed while Sam drove, drove while Sam pushed….worked side by side without complaint, layering more wood in the trench they'd managed to dig each time the Impala gained an inch out of the mud. The rain started and stopped, poured and drizzled, cold and wind-driven. The walls of the hole collapsed more than once, causing them to lose any ground they'd gained and forcing them to start again.

Garth fervently prayed Sam wouldn't be buried under an avalanche of mud and steel. If that happened, he'd have to wake Dean up to come help him free Sam and…well…he'd rather not think about the methods Dean would use to murder him should Sam ever come to harm. And hey, if he were the one buried, he was quite sure Sam would just leave him there.

Finally, hours later - the day wasted, Dean worse, Sam exhausted and sore and shaking and hiding nosebleeds….the Impala popped free of her mud bed and spun down the road, fish-tailing wildly, tires flinging mud, Sam chasing after them, shouting as he lunged and grabbed for the bumper.

"Get off the gas! Let off the gas! Don't ride the brake…STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"

Either Garth heard Sam's frantic shouting and obeyed, or the Impala herself did. She came to a stop in the middle of the road, dripping mud from her under-carriage but purring and raring to go. Sam yanked the driver's door open, and once again, dragged Garth from the seat.

"You ever pull another stupid stunt like that and I will handcuff you from a tree." Sam held him with one hand and popped the trunk with the other. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Garth asked nervously. "Oh, hey no. No, no…see I don't…..did you say from a tree? Sam, come on. Let's talk about this…..I wasn't trying to steal the car."

"Yeah, you were."

"Borrow, I was borrowing it. I was coming back. Honest."

"Garth….the thing about that car." Sam pointed to the Impala. "Is she's a high-strung beast who responds best to her owner. That's not you."

"What? It's a machine Sam, not a horse. Really, dude. Hey, where are we going? You weren't serious….you can't leave me out here…. Sam…Sam? Big guy? Dude? Wait…whoa, whoa, whoa….wait….is that soap?

"Don't push me Garth." he shoved mud-clumped hair out of his face, shivering in the cold rain. "I'm going to wash off in the lake, check on Dean and drive to town."

"The lake? Oh now Sam, I don't think that's a good idea. That water has to be cold and…"

"There's no shower Garth and I'm not going anywhere until I wash this mud off." he grabbed Garth by the back of his neck. "And you're going with me." he removed a bag from the trunk of the car and proceeded to drag Garth with him to the lake.

"WHAT?! Oh no, I'm not! I don't like to swim in open bodies of water…" really, Garth thought, losing purchase in the mud. Where did Sam find the strength to drag him along and did he still possess enough to - gulp - drown him? He stopped protesting and dragging his feet when Sam let him go and began to undress. He eyed the lake nervously and began sidling backwards.

"With or without your clothes." Sam said calmly. "Either way, you're going in." he made a fist. His arm shook and his thumb shot a twinge clear up to his shoulder but yeah, he could hold a 90 lb. soaking-wet light-weight under water until he ceased to breathe.

***000***

Dean stirred at the draft of cold air as the door to the cabin opened but didn't awaken. Not even two, wet arguing naked men entering the cabin roused him from his drug-induced stupor. The over-large shadow moving about speaking in a low timbre was all that was visible from the slit he managed to open his eyes to but it was enough. A cold palm touched his forehead, then his cheek and a thumb pried opened one eye but otherwise, he was left alone.

"He…aah…asleep?" Garth joined him behind the sofa, Sam nodded. "We good to go?"

Sam rubbed his face, eyes burning with fatigue. "Yeah….."

"You sure you don't want to stay here and get some sleep?"

"I can't." Sam snapped, on the fringe of once again losing control. "You can't drive the car…and symptoms from the talisman are all here Garth, the fever was the only one absent….."

"Was?"

"Once all symptoms present….." he choked on emotion, and cleared his throat. "I'm not going to lose my brother again…..I can't."

"You mean, you can't lose another brother." Garth corrected. "Bobby….he, aaah….you know, told me about…"

"Shut up."

"Right….zipping up." Garth nodded. "You can stay….I can drive….." he gulped at the look Sam directed his way. "I mean….maybe I can walk back to my car…..get it free and….."

"I don't have the energy or strength to free another car." Sam said tiredly. "Or the time…"

"You wanna leave me here with him?"

Sam wanted to, oh did he want to. But he didn't know how far away the next town with a pharmacy was. He was so tired and shaky, another nosebleed would likely cause him to faint. Hit with muscles spasms and cramps frequently, he wasn't sure he'd make it back to the motel on his own, let alone to the nearest town and back. Once they were off the dirt road and on pavement, Sam would have to let Garth drive.

"Hey, Dean." Sam leaned over the back of the sofa with pain pills and water. "Take these. You get sick, use the bucket. You gotta piss, use the bucket. You gotta…..well, crawl to the bathroom."

"Waah-ere? Huh?"

"Gotta go to town. We need food, ice, water….your prescription…." ingredients to break the charmed talismans effects. "Not awake, huh?" Dean was sleepy-eyed and heavy-lidded from the effects of pain meds. "I'll leave my phone here….you need me…call Garth's phone."

"Mmpfm?"

"Garth's going with me so you'll be alone. Don't get off the sofa unless you have to…ok?" he grinned at Dean's attempt and failure to respond. "Pain meds knock him out, he'll sleep." Sam pushed away from the sofa. "Let's go."