Disclaimer: I own nothing related to these characters, except the plot line. Also, I have a bag of marshmallows I'm willing to share.

Author's Notes: Winjennster, thanks for pre-reading this and telling me about the mistakes; hopefully I found them all. If not, feel free to drive down and give me the bitch face!

Also, the addition of the Sam whumping is a gift for Lucydolly22 since she loves a whumpy Sam. More to come!

Also, does anyone have more guesses? I'm going to start leaving more clues as we go…think old school European…Please leave a review as well!

It was late or rather extremely early in the morning when Bobby crept downstairs, his knees aching from years of unforgiving work. He found Dean snoring slack jawed on the couch while Sam sat at the desk, his feet propped up on the desk and a coffee mug in his hand.

"Any more of that in the pot," Bobby asked, startling Sam out of his tiring stare. Dean had barely moved during the night, apparently too exhausted to even roll over into a more comfortable position.

"Uh…yeah," Sam said with a yawn. "Should be a cup or two left."

Bobby settled into the armchair near the couch and pulled a book from the stack. "Guessing you figured the handcuffs weren't worth it?"

Sam shook his head silently before deciding to lure Bobby into the conversation he needed to have with him. "They obviously can't keep him from disappearing and they'll just increase his changes for getting hurt... I noticed he's got bruises on all four extremities now."

Bobby kicked himself. Of course Sam would notice the extra bruises. He hadn't gotten around to divulging all the details from Washington yet and considering Sam's protectiveness over Dean, he might not.

"Patrick used a full set of restraints on him. Not sure if that actually kept him grounded or if whatever it was just didn't want to take him at the time. Either way he stayed put."

Sam nodded before saying, "I did tie some bells to him."

Bobby choked on his coffee and looked up at Sam in surprise. "You did what?"

"Remember how when we were kids, you took us fishing? Only you didn't use those bobbers, you had a bell tied to the end of the pole? Well, same principle. He starts levitating or thrashing, we'll hear it."

Bobby nodded his understanding. "A Dean theft alarm, sounds like something we should have started using years ago. Where did you find a bell in this mess?"

Sam smiled and walked over to Dean, moving the lightweight blanket to reveal a small animal collar, pink with white bells, around Dean's wrist. "I'm guessing it's a cat collar, based on its size. Found it in the back of a kitchen drawer."

"Can't remember the last time I had a cat. But anyhow, not surprised, you can find near about anything around here if you look hard enough. How the hell did you get it on him?"

Sam pointed to his busted lip.

Bobby snorted. "The usual way."

They sat and flipped through page after dusty page, Bobby occasionally relying on multiple volumes in order to cross reference possibilities.

"You have any ideas yet," Sam asked as he dropped his own book back onto the pile with a loud thud. He glanced towards Dean, hoping the sound had elicited a response, but Dean kept on sleeping.

"I'm thinking it's a curse of some kind maybe. Or something else using magic," Bobby said as he exchanged his own book for another. "I think we can safely rule out vampires, werewolves, shifters, and demons."

"Why are you crossing demons off the list of possibilities? Goodness knows we've pissed off enough of them," Sam stated, his eyes closely watching Bobby. This was the conversation he had been waiting for.

Bobby didn't answer him; he just turned another page as he took a sip of his black coffee.

Sam scowled when he realized Bobby was ignoring him. "Bobby! Why are you ruling out demons?"

"Hush, Sam," Bobby said with a glance towards Dean. He motioned for Sam to follow him to the kitchen. Sam stood in the doorway, where he could still keep an eye on Dean.

"I want to know why you're ruling demons out."

Bobby sighed; kicking himself for ditching the hours of sleep he could be getting. Instead, he'd spend the next hour getting his ass chewed by Sam.

"Because we—Patrick and I—ruled out possession already," Bobby said as he glanced past Sam to Dean. Bobby stood silently, watching Sam turn the information over in his head.

"You tried to perform an exorcism," Sam spat angrily. "On Dean?"

"Yep," Bobby said casually. "Seemed like as good a place to start as any."

"And?"

"And he wasn't possessed, Sam. We read the rites, nothing happened, so I say we can rule it out. He was unconscious the entire time, never even flinched."

Sam swallowed a lump of anger and tried to hold back as he hissed though gritted teeth. "Did you consider what it could have done to Dean; to have him wake up, restrained, in an unfamiliar place, with you reading the exorcise rites over him!? He could have freaked out! Or worse— flipped some switch on his memory bank— his time in Hell maybe!"

Bobby grimaced at the thought. Honestly, he hadn't thought of that. His plan had been to help Dean out of whatever mess he was in now. Not the mess he had been in years ago.

"Did you even consider what you would have down if he had been possessed," Sam whispered, trying to keep his voice down.

"Sure," Bobby said with a shrug. "We would have finished the exorcism."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, Bobby. I get it, you wanted to use his down time to try and figure it out….I'm just not happy that I'm finding out about it now….a day later!"

Bobby scrutinized Sam. "What's got your panties in such a twist? I figured you'd be right at the forefront of getting this figured out."

"I am," Sam said defensively, his voice rising slightly.

"So then," Bobby asked. "You wanna cut to the chase and tell me what's gotten up your ass? Or are we gonna waste all night with me trying to pussyfoot around your feelings?"

Sam huffed and turned on his heel, plopping himself back into his chair. Bobby eased back into his own armchair and returned to flipping pages, pointedly not looking at Sam. If Sam wanted to have a mood, Bobby would let him; for a little while anyhow, until Bobby decided to put his foot down in order to avoid the inevitable fight it would cause.

It took less time than Bobby thought for Sam's silence to break.

"I should have been there," Sam said quietly. His eyes were locked onto Dean's sprawling form on the couch. "What if he HAD been possessed? What if I couldn't have gotten there before—"

"Sam, if I had found anything serious, I would have called you sooner than I did," Bobby interjected. "You know that, son."

"I know, Bobby," Sam said, dropping his head down. "But…I should have been there."

"Sam, if he goes poof again, you're taking the next trip. No doubt about that. I'll be staying here and researching while you chase his levitating ass."

Sam laughed and turned another page, a tired smile on his face.

They sat for another hour, reading and occasionally comparing notes. The sun slowly started to brighten the room as it rose. Dean rolled over with a groan and nearly died of embarrassment when he heard the bells ringing around his wrist.

"Dean," Sam called out suddenly, startled out of his unintended nap by the sound of the bells; his book hitting the floor with a loud thud as it slipped through his fingers.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean snapped. "Just rolling over, not running away."

Sam started to settle back into his chair when Bobby motioned for him to get up. "Time for you to hit the hay."

"Bobby, I'll be fine down—"

"Boy, this ain't no democracy. When I say go to bed, I mean it. You're going to be behind the wheel if Dean flies the coop; so you need to get some decent shut eye."

Sam and Bobby locked eyes across the room. Dean watched from his place on the couch, knowing without a doubt that Bobby would win the argument.

As Sam bit back a yawn, Bobby motioned to the stairs. "Like I said."

"Fine, I heard you before. Wake me if—"

"We know, if anything happens I'll yell for you," Bobby said, feigning annoyance.

Dean watched as Sam slowly made his way up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, Dean yanked the cat collar from his wrist. "Sometimes, Sam's creativity worries me."

Bobby chuckled. "You want to help me start looking for a way to keep you here?"

Dean shook his head. "Bathroom first, then breakfast."

Bobby was flipping pancakes when Dean hobbled into the kitchen. They said nothing as they dug into breakfast, each man deep in their own thoughts.

"Dean, how you taking all this," Bobby asked gently after several minutes of silence. Dean hadn't said much about his sudden disappearances and Bobby was getting worried that he was sitting on some helpful, but damning information.

Dean shrugged as he shoved another forkful of pancake into his mouth. "I'm tired of it," Dean mumbled around the food. "Want to get back to work. This is a pain in the ass."

Bobby nodded. "So what do we know?"

Dean snorted derisively. "Not anything helpful. I get zapped from where I am to someplace else. I lose hours or days. There's a weird smell and my feet hurt like hell."

"Sound like anything to you?"

"Other than a bad case of me sleep walking, while dousing myself with perfume; not anything I've been able to come up with," Dean said as he sipped his coffee.

"Doesn't sound very likely," Bobby chuckled. "You rarely even roll over in your sleep, much less walk a thousand miles."

"That's just creepy," Dean said. "Been watching me sleep, Bobby?"

Bobby huffed and adjusted his cap. "Well, if you boys could keep out of trouble for more than five minutes, maybe this old man could get some decent shut eye and not need to keep one eye on each of you at all times."

Dean chuckled before getting quiet; his demeanor suddenly serious. "Worse case, what is this?"

"Not a clue. But I know of a few ways we can start ruling things out."

"Let's get started then."

Bobby hesitated. "Dean, maybe we should wait for Sam. He might want to be there when we start this."

"Bobby, he nearly cried into his girly locks over the thought of you performing the exorcise rites over me…you really think he's going to be helpful while we sort through possibilities? Let's just get this done."

Bobby stared at Dean. "You heard me and Sam talking about the exorcism?"

Dean shrugged sheepishly, barely making eye contact. "Not a big deal, Bobby. You had to rule it out. Now, let's get this done, okay?"

Bobby nodded slowly. He didn't want to choose sides, but Dean was right. They needed to start working their way through the list.

"Fine," Bobby said as he grabbed a wooden box from the countertop. "Panic room or garage?"

"What are we ruling out," Dean asked as he eyed the box.

"Curses, hexes, the usual run of witchcraft. Won't be quick either."

"How are we going to do that?"

Bobby eyed at the hesitant young man. "Sam already checked through the Impala and your duffel bag. No hex bags to be found, but there are some other ways we can check."

"Like how," Dean asked, folding his arms over his chest, his stance straight and stiff.

Bobby stared at Dean. "You got a sudden inclination to avoid getting this done?"

Dean shook his head. "Of course not, Bobby, just…"

"Just what?"

"I don't know…maybe," Dean said, avoiding Bobby's gaze.

Bobby scrutinized Dean from across the room before making his decision. "We need to wait for Sam."

"No! I don't want him hovering around while we do this later. Besides, maybe we'll get lucky and figure it out."

"So like I said, garage or panic room?"

"Garage, I guess."

"Think you can walk out there? Your feet are in pretty bad shape."

"I can handle it."

They trudged across the muddy yard without talking; Dean moving slowly and with more care than usual. Bobby dropped a step back and took notice of the weight loss Sam had been talking about. He'd have to buckle down and figure this out soon.

Once they were in the garage, Bobby pointed to a small chair. "Might as well grab a spot to sit. Like I said, this could take a little while."

Dean watched as Bobby unpacked herbs, books, and some odds and ends from the box.

"Bobby, other than finding a hex bag, how do you check for hexes?"

"Curses and hexes leave marks most of the time. Might look like a burn or a scar, a brand, or a tattoo; even an unusual freckle that you didn't have before. Think of it like a signature, except that it gives the type of curse or hex. Makes it possible to hone in on the specifics."

"So you're looking for freckles and scars," Dean mumbled. "Like I didn't already have enough of those. Great."

Dean watched as Bobby used chalk to draw sigils on the floor surrounding him. After lighting some foul smelling incense, Bobby held up a book, old and worn from use. "We'll start with the easiest first. Just stay put and let me know if you notice anything."

Dean sat silently as Bobby read from the book; he didn't recognize the passage, but he could follow the Latin easy enough. He waited patiently until Bobby was done.

"Feel anything yet?"

"Nope," Dean said with a yawn.

Bobby frowned and started flipped through the pages; finally he began to read aloud again. Dean sat and listened. The words seemed to run together, the incense filling the room; as the garage began to warm up, Dean fought to keep his eyes open.

Three hours later, Bobby tossed his fifth book back into the box with a frustrated sigh. "Not a goddamn clue."

Dean opened his eyes, bloodshot from exhaustion and shrugged helplessly. "Not a curse then? Or a hex?"

"Not one I've seen before, if it even is one," Bobby said as he adjusted his cap. "Describe that smell you said you woke up to, back in Washington."

"It was sweet, the sweetest thing I've ever smelled. Like spun sugar or honey, but more intense," Dean explained.

Bobby fiddled with his cap again. "When Patrick and I got your spirit back into your body—"

"Wait! What do you mean, my spirit back into my body," Dean said loudly, surprised.

"Back in Washington, Patrick and I tried everything we could think of to sort out what was messing with you, but finally realized your body was just an empty meat suit. Maybe it was one of those out of body experiences; I don't know a better way to describe it. Either way, we summoned your spirit back to your body," Bobby explained. "The point is, when we got you back, you said 'they'. So whatever is it, there's more than one of them."

"Sonovabitch."

"Yep, and to be honest, by the sound of it, you didn't want to come back from wherever you were."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, a defensive look on his face; but Bobby held up his hand to silence him.

"I'm not saying you don't want to here, with us. I'm just saying that I've never known you to sound so full of…hell, I don't even know. You sounded like you were full of disappointment to be pulled back into your body."

Dean didn't know what to say. How do you defend something you didn't even know you did?

"Bobby…I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?! You didn't do anything wrong! The only reason I'm even telling you is cause it might help us figure this out." The expression on Dean's face, one of hurt and self-loathing, made Bobby shake his head in frustration. It was a forever hard line to walk, between revealing information that might be helpful and information that could only be harmful.

Dean slid from his chair, standing painfully before changing the subject. "What if it's a Jinn?"

Bobby thought about it and shook his head. "Unless it's a type we've never seen before. They like to take their victims for the long haul, drug them up with toxins and feed off them while the victims unconsciously dream their fantasy life. They don't let them go. Besides, you'd have died from the toxins already. Anyhow, just because we didn't have any luck with the books doesn't mean you're not carrying a hex mark. We'll have to look you over for one."

Dean nodded and headed for the door. "Can we wait a little while? I've gotta lay down for bit."

Bobby frowned but followed Dean. It wasn't like Dean to admit tiredness or anything short of 'I'm okay'; it even more unlike Dean that he didn't have a smartass remark about the inevitable strip search that lay ahead of him.

As Dean dropped onto the couch, Bobby headed for the coffee pot. He was pouring a cup when he heard a curious sound filling the room. He turned towards the sound and froze.

The room was in motion. Coffee cups hanging on hooks were swaying and clinking together, while silverware jumped in the bottom of the sink. The screen door opened and closed slowly, the squeaking joined by another faint sound, something light and airy and fluttering; something Bobby couldn't pinpoint. Bobby didn't dare move.

Everything moved in time, tapping out a rhythm that seemed hypnotic.

Movement in the doorway caught Bobby's eye, the coffee cup slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.

Dean was moving through the kitchen towards the backdoor, his movements rough and uncoordinated, as though he was a puppet on strings.

"Dean!"

Dean didn't respond to Bobby's shout, although Bobby could hear Sam already racing down the stairs. Dean's strange march across the kitchen continued towards the door. Sam raced into the kitchen, pausing momentarily as the unreal symphony of sounds met his ears. He faltered for a second before lunging at Dean.

Bobby watched, stunned.

The second Sam touched Dean, he felt himself being forcefully launched away from Dean. His feet left the floor and for a few seconds the world moved in slow motion as he was thrown backwards across the room. Sam slammed into the doorframe hard, his vision swimming as he tried to regain his footing.

Bobby jumped to lock the exterior door, hoping to block Dean's exit from the house. Dean's face was impassive, his eyes all but empty.

"Dean! Snap out of it!"

Recognition flooded Dean's face; he struggled to regain control of his body. Dean's eyes flicked this way and that, again tracking something only he could see. As he tried to regain control of his body, a searing pain enveloped him.

Dean fought against whatever it was that had him, tears of pain and fear streaming down his face as he was forced to reach towards the door, towards Bobby. "Bobby, move out of the way," Dean cried out, his voice once again sounding muffled and distant.

"Boy, I can't let you out that door," Bobby replied firmly as he bolted the door. "We've got you. You're not going anywhere, Dean. Just fight whatever's got hold of you."

"I don't want to hurt you too, Bobby," Dean sobbed as he tried to look back at Sam.

"I know it's not your doing," Bobby said. He knew he needed to do more; he needed to slow Dean's escape from the house. "Fight to regain control."

Sam watched from across the room, his vision swimming. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, making it hard for him to focus on anything in the room. The buzzing in his ears made it hard to hear the words coming out of Bobby's mouth. He needed to get to Dean. He needed to get back on his feet.

With a grunt and a groan, he pulled himself up using the doorframe as leverage, trying to keep ahold of his rolling stomach. "Dean…can you…can you see anything? What is it?"

Bobby could hear the slur in Sam's voice and kicked himself. Sam was probably concussed. Just the little complication they needed. Only the Winchesters could complicate an already difficult case with medical maladies. He just hoped it was going to be the kind of concussion that they could deal with at home. He wouldn't even be able to try to keep Dean grounded, much less watch the phones if he flew the coop, if he had to drag Sam to the emergency room. Worse, Sam would know that as well.

"Bobby! Stop him," Sam cried out as he watched Dean reached past Bobby and pull hard on the door handle.

Bobby didn't know what to do. Dean was still in constant motion, moving in small jerky motions, seemingly unable to control himself. And Sam, well, it was obvious that Bobby would end up like Sam if he tried to grab Dean. Something wanted Dean badly.

He stood firmly against the door, pressing all of his weight back against it. Dean pulled the door handle with more strength; far more strength than they both knew he truly had. The door shuddered in its frame.

"Bobby, please," Dean whispered, his voice cracking in emotion. "Let me go. If I go, the pain will stop."

Bobby caught the anguish and fear in Dean's green eyes.

"I can't, Dean."

"I'll pop back up somewhere. You know that! Please…let me out," Dean sobbed as the waves of pain increased. He had to go. He had to answer their call.

Bobby knew Dean was probably right but that didn't make the decision any easier. With a shaky sigh of emotion, he moved out of Dean's way and headed for Sam. At least he could help one of them.

As Dean yanked the door open and crossed the threshold, he was swallowed up by the morning light, his silhouette lingering for a second before he vanished in a brilliant flash. Instantly, all the chaotic motion and sound in the kitchen stopped, everything resuming its inanimate state; the sudden silence was deafening.

A sudden sound filled air. It sent a shiver racing down Bobby's spine; it was full of fear and disbelief.

It was Sam. Un-fallen tears of frustration glittered in his eyes as he gazed at the empty doorway.

He fought to find his voice before glaring hatefully at Bobby. "What did you do?"

Please leave a review if you liked it. If you hated it or felt cheated, let me know! I aim to please!

Alright, so…how mad do you think Sam will really get over Bobby letting Dean go like that? I'm thinking he's probably going to be a little pissed off. Any thoughts were Dean will surface next?! I'm just writing this on the fly, people. Help me out!