Thanks to Shazza19 & Colby's Girl for their reviews!
Help Wanted
The low murmur of some daytime talk show slowly penetrated into Sam's awareness. It was a sound from his childhood. Add to that the slightly musty smell of industrial air freshener and old bleach and it was as comforting as a lullaby. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping, but he was a bit more rested. Keeping his eyes closed, Sam stretched out with his senses and caught the faint noise of denim sliding on denim and the soft puff of Dean breathing. His earliest memories were of Dean. If his brother was in the room, Sam felt safe, settled in a way he never did when he was by himself. Stretching, he rolled over.
"Hey Sam," Dean said. He was leaning against the headboard on the other bed, legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded across his chest. But Dean never looked away from the TV. To an outsider, he looked relaxed, but Sam could tell his brother was working hard to keep up that appearance. The tranquility Sam had been reveling in shattered.
"How're you feeling?" Sam asked carefully. At the question Dean shrugged and ran a palm over his mouth, his reluctance obvious.
"I'm okay." He paused and Sam could see him debating whether to admit the truth. "But, uh, the curse is back again."
"How bad is it?" Not that it mattered. If Dean was hurting, Sam was ready to help. He shifted to the edge of the other bed and sat by Dean's hip, but before he could touch his brother, Dean shied out of reach.
"What's the matter?" Sam stopped moving with his hand halfway between them.
"Nothing. It's just…" Dean looked at his watch. "It's only been about four hours since you last - you know." He waved his fingers vaguely between them. Did he sleep through the first half of this conversation?
"So?" Sam prompted, trying to piece together Dean's logic. It was kinda funny that Dean seemed uncomfortable talking about being touched.
"So, I wanted to see how long I could go before it got too bad." Dean huffed, recrossing his arms.
"Ah," thought Sam. Well it was probably a good idea to get a baseline, but the last thing he wanted was for Dean to suffer when Sam had a simple, albeit temporary solution. He would never complain about the privilege of caring for his brother, still Dean didn't find it easy to accept help.
"How bad is the pain right now? On a scale of one to ten," Sam asked out loud. Dean made a face. Still, when he answered, Sam could tell he was being honest.
"About a seven."
On the Winchester scale of misery, seven was high. Considering they had both been tortured more than once, to even admit that level of pain said something. Sam was glad he wouldn't have to badger Dean into accepting the relief he could offer.
"Okay, well why don't I," he gestured with his hand, "take care of it now and we can measure how long it takes the pain to build again?"
Dean thoughtfully chewed his lower lip for a minute then nodded, rolling up his sleeve to bare his forearm. Sam was grateful the cure seemed to work regardless of what patch of skin he was touching. It would get a little awkward if Dean had to get bare chested every time they needed to do this.
"Alright, but afterwards we need to find something to eat. I'm starving," Dean said, offering his arm.
Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist. After the first jolt, the feeling of being singularly connected clicked into place. The pain flowed into his body, but through him at the same time. A strange sensation, but not particularly uncomfortable. Sitting quietly with Dean, linked together with the magic - it made him feel especially close to his brother. They were always tight of course, living and working together, especially now that it was by choice and not cosmic design. But, although he would never admit it out loud, there was something profound in this experience. It took a full five minutes before he could see the tension ease from Dean's jaw and shoulders. Interestingly, Sam found he could also sense a lessening as the river of pain slowed to a trickle. He was so focused on analyzing the experience, that Sam was almost startled when Dean pulled away.
"That's enough, I'm good now." Dean studiously fastened the button on his cuff. He shot Sam a brief smile, but as he gathered his jacket and wallet, there was a faux casualness that had Sam wondering if Dean had felt the deep, magical link too. Sam shook off his philosophical thoughts and quickly got dressed and ready to leave. There would be time to research after they got some lunch. He made a note of the time and followed Dean out to the car.
xxxxxx
As small-town diners went, this one was very average. Battered, wooden tables and chairs, faded and patched vinyl booths, cracked and worn tile that had seen better days. But it was clean and Sam had to admit the food was fresh, hot and tasty. He was enjoying his club sandwich while Dean was busy devouring a cheeseburger. So far Dean seemed fine, but Sam was conscious of the time and he glanced at the cracked rooster-shaped clock above the door.
"Jesus Sam, you don't have to keep checking," Dean said around a mouthful. He finished chewing, swallowed and took a swig of coffee. "I'm fine. Nothing has changed since five minutes ago."
"I know." Sam wasn't about to apologize for worrying. But for failing to find a permanent cure for this curse? Sure. He was always going to be a little anxious anytime Dean was in danger. Munching on a french fry, his mind turning towards the spell. Maybe he hadn't drawn the sigil correctly? Or it could have been his translation. He'd gone with Irish, based on Rowena's notes, but maybe he should have taken the time to translate it into Britonnic?
A balled-up napkin bounced off his face and landed on the table. "Hey, you're going to hurt yourself if you think that hard, Sammy. Relax - eat your lunch." Sam resisted rolling his eyes; Dean could be so bossy sometimes. It was a good thing he was awesome in other ways. Still, Sam picked up his sandwich and took a deliberate bite.
"Happy?" he said with his mouth full.
Instead of being disgusted, Dean grinned at him, warm eyes crinkling in the corners. "Delighted, little brother," he said, waving a fry at him before stuffing it into his mouth.
Sam snorted, any irritation melting away. It was hard to be angry with Dean when he smiled like that. He resolved to just enjoy hanging out with his brother and shoved thoughts of magic and curses to the side for the moment. Leaning back, he worked his way through his sandwich and didn't even argue when Dean ordered them both slices of Derby pie. Sam was pushing aside the last crumbs of his dessert when he heard a faint buzz. Dean dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"It's Jody," he said. With a quick glance around, he tapped the screen and brought it to his ear. "Hey Sheriff Mills, what's up?" Dean listened for a moment, his expression darkening. Sam took out his wallet and put some cash on the table.
"Okay, hold on for a second Jody." Dean held the phone against his chest and jerked his head towards the door. Sam followed him outside. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, so once they were standing by the Impala, Dean put the phone on speaker.
"I've got Sam with me now," Dean stated into the cell.
"Hey Jody."
"Hey Sam. I'm hoping you boys can help me out." Jody's voice sounded far away and a little tinny.
"What do you need?" Sam asked. Jody was family, so there was very little they wouldn't do for her.
"Do you remember Jane McDade?" An image of a blonde hunter, sitting on Jody's sofa flashed through Sam's mind. He hadn't seen Jane since they'd attacked the British Men of Letters' compound a few years back. A quiet woman, she'd managed to survive the foray, one of the few hunters who had. Guilt turned his lunch into a stone in his gut.
"Who?" ask Dean, cocking an eyebrow at him, but it was Jody who answered.
"She was part of the assault team Sam led against the Brits - Jerry Hollister's girlfriend." Dean shrugged but of course that didn't translate over the phone.
"Yeah, I remember Jane," Sam said, trying to shake off his regrets.
"Well, she called me this morning looking for some back-up on a case. I'd help her out, but I have to be in court for the next few days, Claire and Kaia are in California and Donna's short staffed. I was hoping you two were free and could give her a hand."
"Of course," Dean answered for them both before Sam could say anything. "Just text us her location and we'll see what we can do."
"Thanks guys. I owe you one of my roast chicken dinners next time you're in town!"
Sam let Dean wrap the conversation and offer their good-byes as he walked around the car and climbed into the passenger seat. He closed the door a little harder than usual. It was annoying that Dean had agreed without even asking. Okay sure, generally he was fine with his brother taking the lead, but didn't they already have enough on their plate with this curse? One of the first rules Dad had drilled into them was you didn't hunt if you weren't on top of your game. It was a good way to get you or someone else killed.
By the time Dean got into the car, Sam had squashed his irritation a little. Dean was always putting other people first and he was never going to change. It was as much a part of him as his freckles and Sam knew it. Even though he'd sometimes like to beat a little sense into the guy in the driver's seat, there was no point in picking a fight. Instead, he slouched against the window and tried not to look grumpy.
"Geez Sam, who pissed in your cheerios?" Dean shot him a glance as he started the car and headed back towards the motel. Sam resisted a sigh.
"I'm not sure we should take on a case when I'm still trying to find a solution for the curse you're under." He congratulated himself on keeping his tone neutral.
"Well considering we've got a 12-hour drive ahead of us, you'll have lots of time to figure something out, Einstein. And if you can't, we still know that touchy feely thing works." Dean was far too nonchalant about his own health. After all, bouts of debilitating pain weren't something you could disregard. It did have Sam checking his watch.
"Speaking of the temporary cure - how are you feeling?" With a case looming, the pressure was on to solve their little problem. It was more important than ever to get some kind of timeline for the magic that was working.
"Good. Nothing to worry about for now." Dean rolled his shoulders as if to prove his point, but Sam privately vowed to keep a close eye on him. "Let's swing by the motel, get our gear and hit the road."