So, this is a little short and fluffy…
But, here you go!
Nikki POV
"God," Sam moaned about half an hour later. He was at the table, elbows on the table, head resting in his hands.
"You ok?" I asked from my spot on one of the beds. I was sitting cross legged in the center of the bed, index in my lap. Dean and John had gone to try and find a gun that looked enough like the Colt to fool Meg.
"It's just...My head..." He mumbled, eyes pinched shut in pain.
"You want me to get you something for it?" I asked, closing my book.
"I've tried everything over the counter, nothing helps." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. My gaze flickered to the herb and potion book sticking out of my backpack.
"You want something not over the counter?" I asked.
"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked as he leaned on the counter.
"Yeah, I tried this a few weeks ago. Tastes pretty bad, but got rid of the pain in less than half an hour." I said, dropping camphor into the pot of boiling water. I'd asked the person in the motel office for a hotplate and a pot, and once the water was boiling, I started adding the various herbs and the other ingredients listed in the book.
"How bad is 'pretty bad'?" He asked skeptically.
"...Really bad," I mumbled, sprinkling fennel leaves into the now brown, thick liquid. The leaves made the concoction give off thick, large bubbles. Sam's face contorted into one of distaste and what looked like what I imagined his 'fear' face looked like.
"What's in it?" He asked, looking cautiously at the pot.
I paused before dropping in a little bit of powdered barley and slowly looked up. "You...You really don't want to know." I mumbled, sprinkling the green powder into the pot, making it turn a darker brown.
I added a few more herbs, then poured it into a coffee mug. "You have to drink it when it's hot." I said, handing him the mug. He hesitated, then raised it to his face.
He immediately turned his face away and held the mug at arm's length. "God that smells disgusting." He said, his nose wrinkled. "How much do I have to drink?"
"What I gave you is the least amount you can ingest and still feel the effects. It'll only last about ten hours. If you take twice that it can last up to 48."
Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes and raised the mug to his lips to take a drink. I saw his eyes open wide, and saw him slam the mug onto the counter as he spat and gagged into the sink. "You think that's pretty bad?" He asked, head in the sink. He had his forearms on the edges of the basin, his eyes pinched shut in pain.
I shrugged. "How bad do you want the pain to go away?" I asked him.
He opened his eyes, looking at me from under his braced arms. Sam's eyebrows pulled together as he stood back up, taking the mug again. He took a deep breath, pinched his nose shut with one hand and held the mug to his face with the other. Since his head was thrown back, I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly.
"Hey, you guys-" I heard Dean say from the door. He stopped as he saw his brother with a pained look on his face, nose pinched shut, quickly drinking from a grimy coffee mug. He just raised an eyebrow at me.
When Sam finished the potion, he threw the mug on the counter, somewhat out of breath from pinching his nose shut and stuck his head in the sink, turning on the faucet to take greedy gulps of water.
"I don't know what to say," Dean finally said, shutting the door behind him as he walked into the motel room. "What the hell are you doing?" He asked his brother.
"That was the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted." Sam moaned, still bent over the sink.
"What'd you drink?" Dean asked, curiously picking up the mug. He raised it to his face and gave it a sniff. His face quickly turned into one of disgust as he held the mug at arm's length.
"Cephalalgia," I said shyly. "It's-It's a Wiccan remedy for severe headaches."
Dean just stared at me, then narrowed his eyes. "What are the side effects?" He demanded, just like I thought he would, as he threw the mug (permanently stained brown on the inside) in the trash.
"Nothing! Nothing, I swear. He may be a little sleepy for the next hour or so, but then Sam'll be fine." I assured him.
"No, Sam will not be fine," Sam moaned from the sink. "That taste doesn't go away!"
"Ok, fine, he'll be a little tired and have a bad taste in his mouth for a few hours." I corrected myself, shrugging. Dean seemed to think about it for a second before shrugging and grabbing a beer.