A/N: I would like to thank SupernaturalGeek for what I think is a truly brilliant and beautiful title that really captures this story. In fact—I'd like to dedicate this one to her, for brilliant titles, amazing encouragement and unflagging support even with my gremblings!

Waxing and Waning

Chapter One

It was the smell that woke Dean. Fresh coffee. Not the crap that Sam tried to brew in a hotel room. Real honest to god coffee. He opened his eyes and found his gaze returned by a large green-eyed cat. "Get off me," he pushed at the cat, but it ignored his efforts. In fact it started purring.

Sunlight was pouring through the curtained window. Dean sat up, much to the cat's disgust. He looked around the room, stretched gingerly and rose from the bed. He padded quietly across the tiny hall to check on his brother. Sam was still sleeping, looking relaxed and childlike in his sleep—the deep lines of worry partially missing from his face. Dean sighed, the last couple of weeks had been hell on the kid, but what a difference a day could make. He turned and headed downstairs, in search of coffee.

It was just yesterday that he had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice, and Sam's vehement protests. The long stay at the hospital had finally gotten to be too much. All the doctors, coming and going, shaking their heads, not knowing why their patient was dying, but dying he was. "Nothing we can do, out of our hands, don't know, wasting disease." Their words echoed through his head and he could see what it was doing to Sam.

His brother had stayed in the room as much as he could. Dean chased him out from time to time to give them both a break. Sam would come back a few hours later, showered, still exhausted, and sit back by the bed. Hour after hour, the lines of worry getting deeper, the smudges under his eyes getting darker and Dean could do nothing to help. Nothing to ease his brother's pain, except wish, even hope, that whatever was killing him would just hurry up and get it over with.

Dean knew he was in bad shape. The pain was eating away at him and the dark hole inside himself continued to grow. Nothing helped, nothing stopped the pain, nothing stopped the growing darkness. It even denied him sleep. Oh, he pretended, but as soon as he heard Sam drop off, he would open his eyes and lay there, listening to the sounds of the hospital, occasionally watching his brother sleep.

Then, yesterday, he couldn't take it anymore. What was the point of just waiting there? He knew he had only a day or two left and he didn't want to die in the hospital, didn't want Sam to have to be in that sterile place alone. Sure, there were a couple of hot nurses—well, actually one hot and two passable, but that certainly wasn't enough keep him there. It was late spring, the sun was out and he wanted to feel the sun on his face one more time, so he told Sam they were leaving. It had not been pleasant.

"What the hell? You can't just leave," Sam said, desperate, angry.

"Why not, they can't do anything for me here, they just poke and prod and shake their heads," he had nearly yelled back.

"They might help, they might figure it out:"

"It has been two weeks Sammy, they are not figuring it out," he looked at his brother and saw the fear and grief in the younger man's eyes. "Please Sammy, I don't want to die in this room. Please." Wishing, hoping his brother would understand.

"Dean…" Sam sighed, shook his head and started again. "Ok, on one condition."

"What?"

"I heard about this herb shop. I want to try out some...I want to stop by there and get a few things, just…"

"An herb shop? Dude, have you lost your mind?"

"I've been doing some research," Dean rolled his eyes at that. "I found a few items in plant lore that I thought might help and I was going to go by there and come back here, but now you could go with me?" He made it into a question

The admission had cost his brother. Dean knew that, so he relented. "I'll go to the shop. It's probably full of crystals and incense and nothing more."

The shop was on a busy street so Sam dropped Dean off. He groaned, the effort of walking was enormous and the name of the shop was—god help me—the "Happy Health Nut." The door was brightly painted and the bell tinkled cheerfully as he entered the store.

"Welcome to the Health Nut," the girl behind the counter greeted him. "Can I help you?" She really looked the part, long skirt, beads and Dean was pretty sure he smelled patchouli.

"I'm meeting someone. Can you just get this stuff for me?" He handed her the list Sam had given him. "Just do that and you can go push the crystals and sage wands on someone else."

She looked upset and stepped out of the room.

"I can't have you talking to my employees that way."

Dean looked up. This one didn't look the part quite so much. Jeans, t-shirt, shoulder length hair, no patchouli, maybe forty? She was holding his list.

"What?"

"You can't just come in here and start insulting my employees," she said. She cocked her head and frowned at him. "Have we met?"

"Doubt it. I try to avoid freaked out New Age wack jobs," he hurt and it made him even more belligerent than usual cheery self.

"Freaked out New Age wack job? Maybe I should sell you a crystal and a sage wand so you can shove them up your ass."

"Great customer service," he shot back.

"Maybe be you would like to take your business elsewhere?"

"I just want the things on the list then I'll leave," he said. Where was Sam? He was starting to feel like he needed to sit down—or fall down. Nice choice.

She looked at the list in her hand. "This is what you came in here for?"

Dean nodded. "That and the sage wand for my ass."

She smiled at that and then looked back at the list. "Vervain, dill, St. John's Wort and red clover? You crossed a witch lately?"

"What?"

"Trefoil, John's wort, vervain and dill/hinder witches of their will," she said, obviously reciting. "It is one of the oldest herbal charms against black magic. Pre-Saxon, probably."

"Huh?" He was surprised, what the hell was Sam up to anyway?

He heard the door and hoped it was Sam. Dean was trying to figure out what to say when he heard Sam gasp "I don't believe it." When he turned to look at his brother he saw relief on Sam's face, pure, unadulterated relief. "I don't believe it. Thank god."

The woman was smiling, "Sam? It's good to see you!" Sam hugged her.

"I take it you two know each other?" Dean said.

"This is my brother, Dean."

The smile she turned on Dean was warm and welcoming. "Nice to meet you."

"This is Bryn, um, Dr. Bryn Elswyth," Sam said to Dean. He turned back towards her, "I can't believe you're here. I was thinking about you just last night. Odd coincidence."

"How many times do I have to tell you, there is no such thing as coincidence?" she said with a smile. "Are you alright?" She said looking at Dean.

"Dean?" Sam was looking at him a little strangely. "Dude, are you ok?"

For his part, Dean was struggling with the pain that had suddenly welled up inside him. It had been slowly building since he left the hospital and the steady flow of painkillers, but now it felt like something was twisting in his chest. His heart was racing, each beat excruciating, it felt like a heart attack, he felt like he was hyperventilating, his awareness was focused inward. He felt himself lowered to a chair.

"Support his back," Bryn said to Sam. "Susie! Bring me the blue bottle from the locked cupboard." Then Dean felt a hand on his chest. "Dean, breathe, slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth," her voice was gentle, but firm, compelling him to obey. "Again, breathe. Come on." Sam was supporting him with an arm across his back, Dean leaned back into that comforting embrace. "Good, breathe again." The pain was receding a little, the relief moving outwards from where her hand was placed on his chest. "Thank you Susie," she said, then Dean felt something held to his lips, "Drink. It'll help."

Dean swallowed and gagged a little. It tasted like brandy and swamp muck. The pain backed off a little more. He sagged against his brother.

"Can you help Dean?" He heard his brother ask, hope and fear coloring his voice. "You helped Jess…"

"I don't know, but we'll see. Where are you staying?" She said, her hand still on Dean's chest, somehow keeping the worst at bay.

"The Blue Spruce Motel," Sam said.

"Wow, you could have picked a bigger armpit, but I'm not sure how," she said with a smile. "Are you able to get going?" She asked Dean softly. He nodded. "Susie bring me my purse. You will have to close tonight, and probably open for the next few days."

"What's going on? Where are you going?" Sam asked a little desperately.

"We're going," she said. "First to get your things and then to my place."

"What?" Sam said.

"I can't let you stay at a pit like the Blue Spruce when I have two perfectly good brand new beds in my brand new addition at my house. And you look like you could stand a little home cooking," she said with a gentle smile.

"We can't impose," Sam said automatically. Dean knew his brother was thinking that if they were at the motel Sam might be able to talk him into going back to the hospital.

"Didn't you just ask for my help? This is part of that, you two are coming home with me. End of statement. There is no such thing as coincidence, Sam. My addition was just finished and the beds were just delivered and I had a feeling I would need an extra loaf of bread today, so it is there, waiting to be baked. "

"I don't know."

"Sam," Dean said, his brother looked at him. "I don't really care where we go, but I think we should go." He needed to lay down, amazing how much energy sitting up took.

"Ok, Dean," Sam paused, obviously torn. "We'll stop by the hotel and I'll get our bags and we'll be on our way before you know it." Sam pulled Dean to his feet, he had to help his brother to the car. He settled Dean into the passenger seat, Bryn got in back and they headed towards the hotel.

Dean stayed in the car while they went into the room to get their stuff. He wouldn't have been all that much help, and dragging him in and out of the car might have bothered Sam. He leaned his head against the window. It was nice to be in the Impala again. There was a breeze coming in through the open window on the driver's side. Much nicer than the hospital. The door to the room opened again and he heard them talking when they came out.

"How long?" He heard her ask.

"How long what?" Sam answered her, he heard the confusion in his brother's voice.

"How long has he been in the hospital fighting this?"

"How did you…almost two weeks," Dean could hear the catch in Sam's voice. I think this is harder on him than me.

"It'll be ok, Sam" she said as they got back into the car.

It was about fifteen minutes before they pulled up in front of the smallish house. It was ringed by gardens and trees stood at each corner of the yard. Dean tried to get out of the car. The attack had exhausted him. All he could focus on was getting in the house. Sam came around and helped him up. The gate creaked as Bryn opened it. The walk to the door was a blur, just one more step, just one more step, he kept repeating to himself. Then the door was open and he sank gratefully into the couch.

"I'll be right back, Dean. I need to get our bags. You ok?"

Dean nodded, closing his eyes, and before Sam was even out the door something happened that had not happened for more than a week. Dean slept.

It was the smell that woke him that time, too. The scent of freshly baked bread snaked itself into his consciousness even before he opened his eyes. He was aware he was still on the couch. His shoes were off and someone had pulled a blanket over him and put a pillow under his head. An odd sound coming from the region near his head caused him to open his eyes. A black cat was sitting on the back of the couch purring at him. When it saw his eyes open it stretched and hopped off the couch.

He sat up carefully. Odd, the pain had receded a bit more. Must have been the sleep. He could tell most of the day had slipped by, the light coming through the windows had the look of late afternoon. He followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.

Sam was perched on the counter. "Dean!" He hopped down when he noticed his brother. "You look better." He said surprised.

"I feel better," Dean was equally surprised. "Is that bread I smell?"

"Bread and stew and apple pie for dessert, if you think you can eat." Bryn said, getting plates out of the cupboard.

"I think I can," again surprised. He hadn't felt like eating for a long time.

He sat down at the table. Sam sat across from him, his eyes searching Dean's face. "I really do feel a little better. I think the sleep helped." Sam smiled and nodded. His eyes were bright. "No chick flick moments before dinner." Dean said.

"Yeah, right," Sam said still smiling that idiot smile.

"How did you meet?" Dean said, hoping to divert his brother's attention.

"At Stanford," Bryn said putting a plate of food down in front of Dean. "He and Jessica attended a series of lectures I was giving."

"A series of lectures?" Dean said trying to reconcile the image of someone who gave university lectures with the woman serving him food.

"Yeah. It was Jess's idea," Sam picked up the narrative. "She saw the flyer for the first one on the psycho-spiritual aspects of healing in the Western world and said she wanted to go. We ended up signing up for the whole series and even took the class she offered."

"Psycho-spiritual aspects?" Dean said. "Man, you are such a geek."

"Thanks."

Dinner was pleasant. The conversation light. Sam didn't bring up the hospital stay, Bryn asked no questions and Dean relaxed. He could feel the tension of the long encounter with the medical profession (honestly, not his favorite profession) ebbing away. Halfway through his apple pie he found he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Dean? You ok?" Sam said from beside him.

"Sleepy Sammy. I want to go to bed," Dean said, sounding to himself like Sam had when he was about six. He smiled.

"Let's get you upstairs." Sam helped him up the stairs and into bed. Dean was pretty sure Sam carefully tucked him in and sat by the bed until he was fully asleep, although that could not have been more than a very few minutes.

To be continued