Title: The Reader's Special: Third Edition

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: Set post 1x17 "Hell House"- This is the Reader's Special where you tell me what YOU want in each chapter & I write it. Every event prompted by you after each chapter. Hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean

Author's note: Last chapter kids! :D Seemed like a good place to round this one off and so many of the prompts called for dealing with the various bad parties. Now…on to the rewards! See the end of the chapter for the list and instructions!

After a new chapter is posted, please review AND give me your prompts that you would like to see in the next chapter. I will do my best to work them in. Your ideas will drive this story.

RULES:
One Prompt per Person per Chapter.
No Wincest/Slash
No MPreg
Prompts must be for the next chapter, not the story over-all. Leave that to me. :D

Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P

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Dean turned off the shower with a grateful sigh, happy to finally have a chance to be clean. He'd slapped himself for being unobservant earlier when he'd grabbed the salt to safeguard the house and found it already was and he hadn't noticed. Every window and door had a well-tended line of salt and there were protective symbols carved unobtrusively into every windowsill and door frame. He smirked as he toweled himself off for not seeing any of it before then. Some Hunter he was. He pulled on his clean clothes and padded down the stairs barefoot with a whistle to check on his brother.

"Hey, Sammy, you awake yet?" Dean slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and warning bells went off in his head. The front door was standing open. "What the hell?" He went to it quickly and shut it, noting the salt line beneath it was intact and then ran to the living room. "Sam?" The couch was empty and the quilt that had covered his brother when he'd gone upstairs lay in a pile on the floor. "Sam!" There was no answer. Dean turned back to the front door and hissed as he stepped on something sharp. "Shit!" He bent down and then stared as his brain made sense of what he was holding. It was an earring of concentric circles that jingled softly as he held it up in front of his face and his face darkened with a murderous rage.

"Son of a bitch."

CHAPTER 6

Sam swam up through a fog with a moan. His head was spinning and it felt like the couch was moving beneath him. He frowned; it didn't feel like Sylvie's couch anymore. He was lying on something hard. The last thing he remembered was Dean bringing him a drink. He frowned and cracked his eyes. It only deepened his confusion. He was in the back of a van on the floor.

"Dean?"

"Oh, dear, you're not supposed to be awake yet, Sam." A young woman leaned over him.

"Who?" Sam squinted, trying to see her clearly and distracted by the light, jingling sound of the multiple hoops in one of her ears. "Where's Dean?"

"Shh, shush now." She brought a hand up and covered his nose and mouth with a cloth.

Sam struggled as he smelled something sickly sweet, unable to stop himself breathing it in as she pressed it hard over his nose and mouth. He tried to bring his arms up and realized only then they were bound behind him. He tried to roll but couldn't escape as she held it firmly in place and smiled down at him. His head swam again, her voice sounded as though it was coming through water, and he groaned and darkness came to swallow him again.

Sam woke again, fighting the effects of the painkillers and whatever had been on the cloth. Opening his eyes, he saw the van again as the cloth returned, putting him under. The next time he managed to open his eyes, the van had stopped. He turned his head to avoid the cloth and couldn't. He blinked and fought the urge to throw up, finding himself slung over someone's shoulder and being carried. There were wooden steps, a door, then an aged, well-worn wooden floor. He hissed out a pained breath as he was dumped to the floor on his injured shoulder and rolled to his back with firm hands that held him in place as the girl and the hated cloth returned, pushing him back into blackness while he tried to shout for his brother.

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Dean strode out onto the porch, his rage at finding Sam kidnapped held barely in check as he headed for his car. He paused as Sylvie turned up the drive and parked behind him. He wanted to snarl at her to move her car, he had to go, but he bit his tongue while she got out.

"Sylvie, you need to move your car. Please." Dean slapped a hand onto the roof of the Impala. "Some teenage psychic bitch has my brother." He snarled it in spite of himself.

"What? Sam's been taken?" Sylvie pushed her own shock aside, still numb from the realization that her goddaughter was responsible for all the deaths. "Uh…ok. Wait, psychic?" She shook her head, trying to clear it and focus instead on the disaster she could fix.

"Couldn't be more than 18. Wears these." Dean pulled the jingling earring from his pocket and held it up, working hard not to close his fist and crush it. "Said her name was…"

"Gloria. Dammit." Sylvie groaned and wiped a hand down her face. "I always thought she was just a flighty pain in the ass. She's nineteen by the way. I think I know where we can find her. Let me move my car."

Dean watched her dash back to her car and then slid in the Impala. He looked over at the empty passenger seat as he turned it on and scowled. "Gettin' you back, Sammy," He said softly and cleared his throat as Sylvie returned, climbing into the seat beside him. He backed out quickly, turning onto the road as Sylvie pointed him in the right direction. Dean spared a glance at her as he drove and frowned. She was pale and her face drawn tight in that way Sam had when he was trying to hold something in.

"Sylvie? You alright?" Dean asked softly. Concern for her broke through his need to find his brother for a moment.

Sylvie shook her head, eyes stubbornly on the road. "I, uh…" She sighed and gave herself a shake, reminding herself that the woman she'd left in the hospital was no longer the girl she'd watched grow up. "I know who's controlling the creature." She raised a hand to stop him when Dean opened his mouth. "I swear to you, I had no idea she'd…turned like this or I would have done…something to stop her. God." She dropped her head into her hands.

"You know her, personally," Dean shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry."

"She's my goddaughter." Sylvie raised her head back, wiping at her eyes in irritation. "She was a good woman once, but a year ago she…she went blind and when it happened it was like…something gave her a new way of seeing to…compensate. I don't know."

"Blind?" Dean felt a little niggle at the back of his mind but brushed it off because what were the odds?

"It happened suddenly, no reason the doctors could find and then one day she said she could…see through the eyes of the cardinal outside her hospital window." Sylvie shook her head. "She said she was actually looking at herself. I never realized she could actually control the animals she…used…until today."

"What happened today?" Dean took a left turn when Sylvie pointed and glanced over at her. She looked miserable and a little scared.

"She admitted it," Sylvie said softly and twined her fingers together in her lap. "She actually told me she was controlling the creature…sending it to kill people…to kill you and Sam. Oh, God."

Dean had a bad feeling, the niggle becoming an all-out warning in his head. "Sylvie…please tell me your goddaughter's name isn't Jeanne." Sylvie's head whipped around to stare at him open-mouthed and Dean groaned. "Son of a bitch."

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Dean eased up to the porch of the small cabin Sylvie had led him too. She was making her way around the back with his shotgun that she held with an expert grip and grim smile. She had extracted a promise from Dean to not kill anyone unless he absolutely had to. The look on his face had apparently worried her. He smirked and brought his gun up level with the door. He could hear voices speaking inside and then a sound that had him rearing back and kicking the door in - Sam's voice raised in a groan of pain. The door slammed in, the lock shattering out the wood of the frame and Dean shouldered it aside as he stepped in and aimed at the head of Danny, Gloria's bodyguard, who had Sam over one shoulder while she stood beside him with a white cloth pressed into his brother's face.

"Get the hell away from him, you crazy bitch!" Dean shouted and was gratified when she stumbled back in shock at the rage on his face. Danny, however, seemed less impressed and didn't even flinch. Dean swung the barrel up between his eyes and snarled. "You have exactly two seconds to get your giant paws off my brother before I end you." Dean pulled the hammer back and Danny finally seemed to understand how much pain he was about to be in. He raised his hands and let Sam roll off his shoulder to crash into the floor. "Oh, you son of a bitch!" Dean took two quick steps while the idiot grinned and plowed his fist under the taller man's jaw. Danny slapped back into the wall and slid down it in a daze while Gloria screamed and dropped beside him.

Sylvie came in from the back and stared in surprise. "You didn't shoot anyone."

"You made me promise not to. Watch those morons." Dean put his gun up and bent, rolling Sam carefully to his back. He hissed in sympathy seeing fresh blood soaking through his t-shirt at the shoulder. They had re-opened his wounds. "Dammit. Sam?" He cupped the side of Sam's face and leaned over him. His nose wrinkled as an odd, sweet smell reached his nose and he looked over at Gloria, glaring death. "What'd you do to him?"

"I…nothing. It's just…chloroform. Perfectly har…harmless." Gloria stuttered fearfully.

"Harmless?" Dean yelled but subsided when Sylvie gave him what had to be a patented 'grandmother' stare. He turned back to his brother instead and pulled him carefully up so he was sitting against him. He was hot to the touch but opened his eyes as Dean watched. "Hey, tiger."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a whisper of confusion as his head rolled, trying to see where he was now.

"Hey, hey, easy," Dean soothed and took the side of his face again to still him. "Sammy. Right here, dude."

"Non hic…non magis…placere. Non…magis..." Sam's voice was rough and slurred.

Dean had to bend to hear him and scowled. "Dude is that…Latin?"

Sylvie sighed sadly. "He's saying he doesn't think you're really here and…" She glared down at Gloria. "…no more, please, no more."

"Ubi…ubi est frat…fratrem meum?" Sam shuddered in Dean's grip.

"He's calling for you." Sylvie told Dean and turned a look on her two captives that rivaled Dean's rage.

"That one I got," Dean said softly and tightened his hold on Sam. "Sammy. I'm right here, come on, man. English. Look at me." He wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned. He had seen Sam delirious from concussions, fevers, venom, and various other near disasters more times that he wanted to remember, but rambling in Latin? This was something new.

Dean's voice seeped through the delirium in Sam's mind and he looked up, finding his big brother hunched over him protectively. He smiled and let out a long breath. "Dean." He sighed and let himself drift away again. "Late."

Dean snorted with relief. "I am not late. Got your ass, don't I?"

"Up, both of you." Sylvie gestured with the shotgun and waited until Gloria had helped her still-dazed bodyguard to his feet. "Go on. Closet." She shoved them the way she wanted them to go with the gun in Danny's back until they were moving.

"Dean." Gloria spun back as Sylvie shoved Danny into the closet. "Sam has a destiny. One day, you might have to do something…" She shook her head and looked pleadingly at him. "I can do us all a favor, Dean, if you just let me…"

"You finish that sentence and Sylvie's only gonna have one person to lock in there," Dean growled and didn't even look at her; the temptation to hurt her was too great.

"Get the hell in." Sylvie took Gloria's arm and pushed her inside then slammed the door. She grabbed a nearby chair and tilted it, wedging it beneath the handle and effectively locking them in before going to the brothers. "How is he?"

Dean shook his head. "He's been better." He shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"What are we going to do about dumb and dumber?" Sylvie asked, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at the closet.

Dean smirked and held up the phone. "Got it covered." He smiled when a familiar voice answered. "Officer Gary. Dean here." He paused and smirked. "Yeah, that Dean. I need you to do me and Sam a favor…yeah. Need you to come arrest Gloria the psychic and her idiot bodyguard for kidnapping." Dean's face darkened as he looked down at his brother. "Sam. They took him right out of Sylvie's house, drugged him."

Sylvie reached over and pulled the phone out of his hand, putting it to her own ear while Dean growled. "Gary? This is Sylvie. Yes, they'll be at my house. Do us all a favor and keep it to yourself." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Gloria is for real. There are real psychics and real monsters." She chuckled. "Well, you can ask me about it later." She looked down at her watch and out at the fading daylight. "Better make that tomorrow. Sam's certainly not going to be in any condition to give a statement until then. Alright."

Dean took the phone she handed back with a shake of his head. "You're somethin', Sylvie."

"Oh, honey, you have no idea." She grinned and then put a hand on Sam's head. "We should get him out of here don't you think?"

"Yeah. Ok, Sasquatch." Dean got Sam up with Sylvie's help. "Go get the back door open. I'll bring him out." He wrapped Sam's good arm around his neck and sighed. Sam wasn't awake to walk for himself, and Dean couldn't make himself toss him over his shoulder after what Gloria's monkey had done. Instead, he risked crippling his back, bent and swept Sam's legs up with his other arm. "Holy…crap." Dean gasped. It took him a moment to find his balance with Sam's weight held in front of him but he did and staggered to the door and then outside. He was grateful there were only three steps down to the ground as he reached the bottom and headed for the car.

Sylvie stood by the door and while she smirked at the image of Dean carrying his larger brother like a child. Inwardly it warmed her heart to see the concern on his face. Dean reached the car and bent awkwardly, letting Sam's legs drop. Sylvie helped hold him up while Dean eased him around.

"This was easier…when he was nine," Dean panted, making Sylvie chuckle. "Need a damn can opener these days." Between them, and with Dean crawling across the backseat and out the other side, they got Sam inside and laid out as comfortable as possible before closing the doors. "Thanks, Sylvie."

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Sam woke groggy in the car as they reached Sylvie's, and Dean wondered if it wouldn't have been easier getting him inside and up the stairs if he'd just carried him again. His feet seemed to catch on every step with a muttered apology, sometimes in English and others in Latin. It was amusing and worrying at the same time for Dean. He had no way of knowing how many times Gloria had put Sam under with the chloroform and Sam had already had the painkillers Dean had slipped him in his system.

"Dean…tired," Sam mumbled as they reached the bedroom.

Sylvie opened the door more widely so they could get through. "I'll go put a kettle on and get some supplies to clean up that shoulder."

"Thanks. Here you go, buddy." Dean smiled seeing there were two beds in the room and took Sam to the far bed, sitting him down. "Let's get this shirt off first, huh?" Sam gave him a weary nod but made no move to do it himself. Dean snorted and carefully eased the now blood-spotted shirt off over his head, then helped ease him down to the pillow. "Be right back, Sam."

Dean left and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen, wanting to make sure Sylvie brought everything he'd need to fix up his brother's shoulder. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over one of the high-backed kitchen chairs. "Hey, I'll need…" He broke off as he saw her just standing, clutching a cordless phone to her chest. "You alright?"

Sylvie looked up at him and set the phone aside. "Jeanne. She's not in the hospital anymore. She checked herself out. She's hiding…from me."

"It's not your fault, Sylvie." Dean shook his head and patted her shoulder. "There's nothing else you could have done except sit on her twenty-four seven and then where would Sam be if you hadn't come back?" He smiled down at her as she rolled her eyes. "Never would have found him if you hadn't come back."

"Yeah, you would have." Sylvie smiled her thanks at him for absolving her of guilt but she still felt it. "Here." She handed him the first aid kit and a bottle of whiskey. "Figure you could use a medicinal hit or two yourself."

Dean chuckled and bent down to drop a kiss on top of her head. "You're awesome."

"So you've said. Go take care of Sam." Sylvie shooed him out of the kitchen. "I'll bring up some fresh bandages."

Dean turned to leave and then stopped. "Sylvie, if we have to…deal…with Jeanne, will you be alright with that?"

The question choked her up and Sylvie sighed deeply. "She was such a good girl until the blindness and the…I don't know…powers. Maybe her father and I were too soft on her." She shook her head. "Her mother died in a freak fire when she was six months old and I suppose we molly-coddled her."

Dean went cold with her words. "Freak fire?"

Sylvie nodded. "In her nursery. Jeanne's lucky to be alive. Dean?" She watched all the blood drain out of his face. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I gotta get upstairs." Dean turned and walked out with shock coursing through him; there were just too many parallels to be ignored. He climbed the stairs and had to stop in the door to just look at his little brother for a moment, collecting himself before he went in. "Hey, Sammy." Dean sat beside him and gently brushed the dark hair obscuring his eyes from his face.

"Dean?" Sam rolled his head into the cool hand and opened his eyes. "Where?"

"Sylvie's. You're ok." Dean leaned over and peeled the now bloody bandage from his shoulder as carefully as he could.

Sam frowned, raising his other arm to his head. "M'I runnin' a fever?"

"Yeah, genius." Dean pushed his hand back down. "How's your head?"

"Feels weird." Sam closed his eyes again and wished his head would stop spinning.

Dean looked down at him and then frowned, looking down at his own chest. His eyes widened and he slapped a hand to his neck looking for the familiar thong that held his amulet. It wasn't there. He scrabbled at the neck of his shirt, then his flannel then stood off the bed and shook his shirts, expecting it to fall out. When it didn't he sucked in a breath and laid a hand over the empty spot on his chest. He felt…naked without its comforting weight.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam looked up to see his brother standing beside the bed with a stunned look on his face. He reached out to him instinctively.

"What? No, uh….nothing." Dean took his brother's arm and folded it back beside him before sitting back down. There was no way he was telling Sam he'd managed to lose his amulet. It meant too much to them both. He couldn't. "Just thought…felt something crawling on me. Nothing there though. Relax."

Sam frowned, not believing him but let it go for the moment as the room did a lazy spin and turned his stomach at the same time. He slammed his eyes closed while his skin burned and Dean cleaned out the scratches on his shoulder. He jerked in surprise as something cold landed on his brow.

"Easy, Sam." Sylvie pressed the back of her hand to his cheek when he stared up at her under the cold cloth. She'd soaked some cold cloths and come up as quickly as she could after feeling the fever burning through him in the car. "Just me."

"Thank you," Sam whispered and let his eyes closed again on the two of them, Dean and Sylvie, leaning over him.

"How's his shoulder?" Sylvie leaned in front of Dean for a look and sighed. The skin was red and inflamed and the scratches oozing blood in a couple places.

"He's had worse." Dean smiled at her and shrugged. "He'll get over it." He checked to see that Sam was asleep and nodded before looking over at Sylvie as she handed him a clean bandage. "Sylvie, you should know…our mom died when Sam was six months old." Dean spoke softly, afraid to have Sam wake again and hear him. "Fire in his nursery, but it…wasn't an accident. Something caused that fire and…" He stopped, not sure why he was trusting this woman with something they hadn't even told their absent father about, but he thought maybe it was because she could understand like no one else because of Jeanne. "'Bout a year ago Sam started having visions." He watched her eyes widen in shock and recognition. "Gives him migraines that put him on the ground every time, but what he sees…happens."

"Oh, my God," Sylvie breathed and looked down at Sam with surprise.

Dean nodded and lowered his voice even more. "It terrifies him. He doesn't think I know that." He smirked fondly as he taped the last bandage in place. "He can be pretty dumb for someone so smart, but…it scares me too." He looked up at her, needing to be clear. "I'm not scared of him. Sam's…he's too good a person to ever be like Jeanne. I'm scared of what they mean for him…of what they do to him."

Sylvie nodded and put a hand to his arm. "I believe you. I've seen enough of Sam now to know that he's nothing like my goddaughter. Why don't you go grab a cup of coffee? You'll need it. I'll sit with him for a minute."

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, ok."

"Dean, thank you," Sylvie said sincerely with damp eyes. "For trusting me with him." She smiled as he gave a gruff nod and left. She sat beside Sam and put an affectionate hand to the side of his face. Sylvie leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss on top of his head. "I wish Jeanne had turned out like you, Sam," She whispered. "You're a good man."

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Dean woke, as he had twice already in the night, to the sound of Sam's voice rising steadily from the bed beside him. He rolled up with a groan and looked over. Sam was thrashing under the thin blanket and muttering.

"Damn." Dean went and sat beside him, clasping a hand on Sam's good shoulder with a wince for the fever driven sweat sticking the sheet to him. "Sammy?" He frowned, leaning closer to make out what Sam was saying.

"Sorry…sorry, Dad." Sam muttered. In his head, through the fever and the fog left from the drugs, he heard his father's voice raised in disappointment at him, telling him he was a failure as a Hunter and as a son. Sam shook his head to deny it, feeling the weight of a life time of trying to measure up to his big brother in their father's eyes. "Not a f-failure."

Dean stared at him as Sam's voice rose and tears rolled from his closed eyes down to the pillow. It had only taken a moment to realize that in Sam's delirious state, he thought their father was there and it was not a happy conversation. "Sam. Sam, wake up." Dean gave him a shake but his brother's voice rose.

"No, not a…sorry, Dad. I tried." Sam argued with him and wanted him to see how hard he had tried and was trying again to be what he wanted him to be but then… in his fevered mind, his father blamed him for Jessica's death, and then he broke Sam's heart when he laid his mother's at his feet as well. "No; not my fault. Dad, please!" Dean's heart broke a little at the guilt and desperation in his brother's voice.

"Sammy, you're not a failure." Dean told him and took his face in his hands to hold him still. "Sam."

"Mom…not my f…fault." Sam's tears were falling hard and Dean fought the pressure behind his own as he held his brother's head and tried to talk sense to him.

Dean looked at him horrified when he realized just what was going on in his brother's tortured mind. "You are not responsible for Mom, Sam," Dean said fiercely. "And not for Jess either. It's not your fault, Sammy. Come on, you gotta wake up."

Sylvie stood in the hall with her hands over her mouth and her own tears on her face. Sam's distressed voice had woken her from a sound sleep and pulled her down the hall, and the words he spoke had driven into her heart. She had a sudden, intense need to meet their father and give him a strong talking-to for loading so much guilt on such a young man's shoulder. She choked up even more as Dean's low voice died away and he gathered his younger brother up into his arms in a hug to comfort him. She sniffed without realizing and startled as Dean's head spun to find her in the door.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry," She said softly and hastily wiped the tears from her face. "I didn't mean to intrude."

Dean nodded with Sam trembling against his chest. "It's alright." He started to lay Sam back and rolled his eyes when he found his brother had curled his fingers into his shirt, holding on. He sighed and let him settle back.

"I'm going to go…check my library." Sylvie pushed her hair off her face and straightened her dressing gown. "See if I can find you a better way to kill…Birdzilla."

"You have a library?" Dean asked quietly.

Sylvie sniffed. "Of course I do. Any Hunter who stays around as long as I have has one." She left him with his brother and went downstairs, doing her best to put her emotions back in order. Those boys had worked their way into her heart without a doubt, and she thought any father should be proud of them. She passed the kitchen on the way to her cellar and stopped as she heard the strains of a rock song coming from Dean's jacket. She fished his phone out of the pocket, looked upstairs and decided he didn't need bothering just then. She flipped it open and headed for the cellar.

"Hello?"

"Dea…who the hell is this?"

The gruff, instantly angry voice on the other end made Sylvie chuckle even as she hoped it was their father. She wanted a word with him. "My name is Sylvie. Dean can't come to the phone just now. Who is this?"

"Sylvie?" The man said in surprise. "Name's Bobby Singer and, lady, you better give me a good reason not to come lookin' for those boys right now."

"If you're their father, you're more than welcome to." Sylvie went down the stairs into her cellar and geared herself up for an argument. "I'll be more than happy to give you a piece of my mind in person."

"Whoa! Whoa, I'm not their Dad." Bobby said hurriedly and then chuckled, sensing a kindred spirit. "But, as it happens, I've unloaded on the jackass more than once."

Sylvie smiled as she pushed on the false wall that hid her Hunter's library and clicked on the light. "Dean's taking care of Sam. He's alright…well, he will be."

"Sam?" Bobby's voice dripped with concern with just a single word and Sylvie smiled softly as she sat at her desk.

"I promise, he really will be fine. There was a bit of…excitement…today. Dean's taking good care of him." She assured him, choosing her words carefully, unsure of how much this stranger on the phone knew, despite his very obvious concern for the boys.

"Of course he is." Bobby laughed softly and leaned back at his desk, appreciating the woman's voice. He hesitated a moment and then took a chance, giving in to a sneaking suspicion that had formed in the back of his mind. "So, Sylvie. Hunter?"

"Retired." Sylvie leaned back in her chair, listening to the gravelly timbre of his voice and enjoying it. "You?"

"Still kickin' and tryin' to keep those boys in one piece." Bobby chuckled. "Woman with a voice like yours oughta be answerin' phones and makin' men blush."

Sylvie burst into laughter as she blushed herself. "Bobby Singer, have you ever actually used that line on a woman before?"

"First time for everything." Bobby smirked and slapped himself in the head for saying something so ridiculous.

She wiped her eyes and readjusted the phone. "Oh, I needed that laugh. I'm doing some research for your boys. Hoping I can find them a better way to kill Birdzilla in my library."

"You have a library?" Bobby sat forward with a grin on his face. "Sylvie, I think I like you. And what in hell's a Birdzilla? Fill me in."

Sylvie kicked back at her desk, putting her slippered feet up on the corner and settled in to talk shop. "Well, there's a lot to tell. Best get a drink."

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Sam woke to sunlight streaming through a window into his face and rolled away from it with a groan. He blinked his eyes open and saw he was alone in the room. He rubbed grit out of his eyes and sat up, careful of his shoulder. He smiled when he found his fever had broken sometime in the night, then frowned as bits and pieces of dreams came back to him.

"Mornin', sunshine." Dean said cheerfully as he came in and saw his brother sitting up. He'd managed three or four hours of sleep once Sam's fever had finally broken and the limpet had let him go. He held out a cup of coffee under Sam's face. "How you feelin'?"

"Better, Dean…was Dad here?" Sam looked up in confusion and it only grew at the expression on Dean's face.

"No, Sam. Just us." Dean gestured to the cup. "Drink, dude, and take a shower or somethin'. You stink." He left Sam rolling his eyes and headed back downstairs rubbing a hand over where his amulet should have been. He was missing it like a limb or a sense and the lack of its weight was throwing him off.

Sam watched after him curiously, knowing something more was going on but obviously his brother wasn't in the mood for sharing. He shook his head, sipped his coffee and stood. He swayed for a moment and steadied with a smile. "Shower sounds like a slice of heaven right now."

Dean strode back into the kitchen and smiled to find Sylvie there and all but cuddling the coffee maker. "Morning, Sylvie."

"Oh, I do love a man who knows how to make a brew." She poured a cup and took a deep sniff before turning and giving him a wide smile. "I was up a little late tracking down your Birdzilla with Bobby. His research skills are really quite exceptional."

"Bobby?" Dean said in surprise and then began to grin as Sylvie's face reddened and she gave all her attention to her coffee mug. He chuckled and shook his head. "That sly dog."

"Don't get any ideas, Dean Winchester." Sylvie found her pride enough to shake a finger at him. "We just talked."

"Uh huh." Dean nodded and dropped into a chair. "What'd you two talk about? …all night."

Sylvie groaned and rubbed her blush-warm face. "Honestly. I'm too old to feel like a teenager caught out. We talked about the hunt, about the creature."

"Mmm hmm." Dean grinned at her, enjoying himself and looking forward to eventually teasing Bobby about it. "So, what'd you find on Birdzilla?"

"Not a lot, I'm sorry to say." Sylvie shrugged and sat across from him. "It's not a mystical creature as far as we can find. I mean, it doesn't seem to require any special means to kill it." She smiled. "You shoot it in the right place and it should die."

"Ok, that's a relief." Dean's expression turned serious. "What about Jeanne?"

"I'll handle her," Sylvie said determinedly with a nod of her head. "That's my mistake." She raised a hand when he opened his mouth. "My oversight. I should have watched her more carefully. People have died because of her. I'm going to stop her."

Dean didn't ask if she would be able to kill her goddaughter if it came to it; he could see it on her face. Sylvie was a Hunter and family or not, Jeanne had gone darkside. He rubbed at his chest again and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. "Hey, Sammy." He looked up guiltily at his brother and stood.

"Dean, what…" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"We got a plan." Dean smiled and took his mug to refill it.

"Ok." Sam watched Dean go to the coffee maker with a frown. Something was definitely off with his big brother. "What's the plan?"

"How's your shoulder, Sam?" Sylvie rose and went around the table, pushing him gently into a chair. She tugged the neck of his shirt away to peek in at the wounds.

"Fine. It's good this morning," Sam smiled and rolled his eyes when his brother grinned at him. "Plan?"

"We're gonna go hunt down Birdzilla and gank it." Dean set the fresh mug of coffee in front of his brother and shoved over the sugar and creamer. "While Sylvie takes care of Jeanne."

"Who?" Sam looked up as Sylvie's hands suddenly stilled. "Sylvie? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Sam." She shook her head and sat beside him. "So much."

Sam sat in shock as they explained what they'd learned to him. When they were finally finished, he looked up to his big brother with such a tortured expression that Dean's heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest.

"Just like Max," Sam said softly and looked back down at his coffee cup, turning it on the table as if held answers.

"You're not Max." Dean said fiercely. "And you won't be. You've got me to keep you straight, idiot." He cuffed the back of Sam's head and felt a little better when he smirked up at him.

"Max?" Sylvie looked between them and then sighed. "Another child like Jeanne and…"

"Me. Yeah." Sam finished for her. He shook himself and pushed the coffee away. "Let's go do this." He stood and took Sylvie's arm gently as she rose beside him. "Sylvie, are you sure you can…handle Jeanne on your own?"

"I'll be fine, Sam." She reached up and patted his cheek with a smile. "You boys go take care of the creature."

"Come on, Sammy." Dean headed out of the kitchen and stopped himself rubbing the empty spot on his chest as he passed his brother, relieved that Sam hadn't noticed the missing amulet yet. He wasn't looking forward to having to explain that.

"Sylvie…be careful. Please?" Sam couldn't stop himself leaning down and placing a soft kiss on top of her head before following his brother.

Sylvie watched them bustle out the front door and sighed. "You boys be careful too," She said softly and then headed upstairs to dress and fortify herself to confront her goddaughter. She had a good idea where to find her.

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Each time Dean bent down to check a track on the forest floor, he missed the need to keep the heavy amulet from slapping into his face. He sighed and straightened, trying not to notice Sam watching him with a little frown. "You see anything yet?"

Sam shook his head and adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Nothing. Maybe we need to look a little higher up." He nodded up into the trees. "Logically, there's no way the creature's been able to see us through the canopy every time it's come after us so, maybe it's hanging out in a tree top somewhere, watching."

"Huh. Not bad." Dean smiled and headed deeper into the trees with Sam at his back. He focused his attention on the bases of each tree as they passed, looking for signs of things being knocked down.

Sam paced behind him and rolled his shoulder carefully. It ached and he knew he was still running a fever, though not as high as the night before. He was keeping his distance from Dean to keep him from noticing. The last thing he wanted was his big brother going 'mama bear' on him again. He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Hey." Sam stopped and pointed the wide trunk of an old tree ahead of them. "Check that out." The base of the tree was littered with pine cones and branches, resting around and on top of a large thorn bush snugged up against the trunk.

"Looks promising." Dean walked over, looking up and groaned. "Tree climbing. Awesome." He handed his rifle to Sam and then jumped to grab the lowest hanging branches, pulling himself up.

Sam chuckled as Dean's legs pulled out of sight. He suddenly didn't mind his messed up shoulder just then; it got him out of having to climb. "Careful!" He called and danced back as several small branches rained down over him.

Dean growled as he pulled himself up the tree. The bark was rough, irritating his hands as he climbed. "Almost as bad…as camping," He grumbled as he curled around between a close grown group of branches and pulled himself above them. He was a good thirty feet up in the tree and nearing the wide crown when the first angry chitter sounded. Dean turned his head and his eyes widened. Inches from his face was a nest, an evil looking crow hunched over several eggs, glaring at him with beady eyes, and three very pissed squirrels whose tails rose up behind them, fluffed out and twitching.

"Oh, crap," Dean whispered. He started to pull away and shouted in surprise as two of the squirrels launched at his head. "Shit!" He ducked the furry projectiles, cursing again when he felt claws swipe across his forehead and tried climbing back down as the squirrels followed his retreat chittering and hissing at him.

"Dean?" Sam heard the commotion above while leaves and more branches showered down and his brother cursed.

Dean shouted as one of the hairy little bastards attached itself to the front of his jacket. He batted the squirrel away and then made a frantic grab for anything to hold on to as he lost his balance. His feet slipped and he went down fast through the remaining branches. He had a glimpse of Sam's surprised face and then he crashed into the bush at the base of the tree.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled and threw himself out of the bush and to the ground as a multitude of stings stabbed into his backside.

"Holy crap! Dean? Are you alright?" Sam knelt beside him where he crouched on the ground, glancing up into the tree apprehensively, half expecting an attack. "What the hell happened?"

Dean growled. He tried to sit up straight and ended up back on his hands. "Don't…ask."

"Come on." Sam took his arm and pulled him to his feet where Dean bent double with a hiss of pain. "What? Your back?"

Dean shook his head miserable and pointed behind him. "Thorn bush."

Sam looked back, then looked down and couldn't help the chuckle that forced its way out of him. The backside of Dean's jeans were riddled in thorns and spots of blood. "You look like a porcupine."

"Dude, I swear, you keep laughin' at me, I am gonna toss you face first in that damn bush!" Dean craned his head to glare up at his brother. He tried to reach around and ended up brushing several of them, driving pain up into his spine. "Dammit!"

"Uh…ok. Ok." Sam worked to catch his breath, fighting the urge to all out guffaw at the sight. "Here. Come here." He pulled Dean over to a partially fallen tree so he could lean his arms on the trunk. "Maybe if you just…uh…yank your pants down, they'll…they'll come out. Crap." He had to turn away and cover his face as the laugh bubbled back up.

Dean snarled as he undid his belt buckle. He stood as straight as he could, checking to make sure Sam wasn't looking. He took several deep breaths and then pulled his jeans and shorts down in a swift move. He shouted with pain and leaned on the trunk again. "Are they out? You're gonna have to look, asshole, if you can stop laughing long enough."

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Sam turned back, ruthlessly biting his lip and rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother's bare ass, speckled with blood and several thorns still standing out of it. "Oh, man." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Um…didn't get them all."

"Well, I can't see 'em, Sam." Dean turned his head to look at him with raised brows. "Can't hunt Birdzilla like this. You're gonna have to take one for the team."

"Me? Dude, I'm not…" Sam trailed off and groaned. He leaned his rifle up beside Dean and pulled the Swiss army knife from his pocket. "Can't believe I have to do this."

"Hey! Not exactly a picnic for me either. Hurry up!" Dean closed his eyes as his face flushed bright red in humiliation.

"Grumpy." Sam pulled the tweezers from the end of the compact knife and bent over Dean's butt. "This is not happening." He gripped the first thorn and did his best to ignore the fact it was his brother's bare ass he was bent over. He pulled it out and Dean yelped. "Sorry. Few more." Sam plucked two more free and laughed softly as Dean cursed. "One left."

"I think you're enjoying this," Dean growled, hearing the chuckle behind him.

"Just…shut up." Sam gripped the last thorn in the tweezers and had to wiggle it free, groaning as Dean twitched under him. Finally, he got it loose and tossed it aside. "Thank God."

Dean straightened, smiling that he could do it without something stabbing into his ass and turned to find his little brother beet red from the neck up and studiously not looking at him. Dean's smile turned into an evil grin. He grabbed Sam in a hug and held him tight.

"Sammy, my hero!"

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed and struggled to get loose but Dean held him tight. "Get off me!"

"I love you man!" Dean squeezed him tighter, enjoying the disgusted noises and making the hug as uncomfortable as possible for his squirming brother.

"Aw…aw, come on," Sam groaned and closed his eyes. "Could you at least…pull your pants up? Oh, my God."

Dean released him at last with a laugh and did pull his jeans back up, chuckling. "Suck it up, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam glared at his brother's grin. "Can we please go kill something now?"

Dean snorted and took his rifle up, handing Sam's to him. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Sam gave himself a shake, working to wipe the image of Dean's bare ass out of his mind and followed after him. He stumbled to a stop when it hit him as he watched Dean reach up to his chest again; his amulet hadn't dug into Sam's chest when he'd hugged him. It always poked him in the chest but this time…it hadn't. Sam's jaw dropped as he realized what was off about Dean - he'd lost the amulet.

"Hey, pokey! You takin' a nap back there?" Dean turned and waved an arm at Sam who seemed to shake himself and quickly catch up.

"No, no. Sorry." Sam looked at Dean and smiled softly, warmed by the knowledge that his big brother was sorely missing the presence of the amulet Sam had given him so long ago.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Dean glared at him and the ridiculous, affectionate expression on Sam's face.

"Huh? Nothing. It's just…nothing." Sam smiled and went ahead of him, knowing if he pointed it out it would just piss him off.

"Yeah, well…knock it off." Dean shook his head and went after him. The hug had done one thing for him; it had let him know Sam was still cooking a temperature and, as usual, not mentioning it. "Stubborn jackass," He muttered.

Sam stopped and cocked his head. "You hear that?" He looked up into the trees and brought the rifle up as they heard the clear screech of the creature from close by.

"That way!" Dean broke into a run with Sam on his heels. They could hear it crashing through the trees above, leaves falling in a trail ahead of them as it moved.

"Sounds like it's after something," Sam panted as he ran and kept his eyes up.

Dean skidded to a stop as the noise ceased. "What the hell? Did it take off?"

"No." Sam strained his ears for any sound. He wasn't sure why but he was sure it was still up there.

The creature dropped out of the trees not ten meters from them with a scream. They could no little more than turn to face it before it leaped and swept into them. Dean grunted with the impact and rolled off across the forest floor while Sam was knocked sideways. He struggled to his knees and saw Birdzilla rounding on Dean's unprotected back. His brother was on his knees with one hand to his head and swayed, not completely with it.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. He sprinted the distance between them and shoved Dean to the side as the creature struck, its arm sending him spinning off and into the trunk of a tree. Sam slid to the ground with a thump and tried to breathe, his vision darkening as the creature screamed.

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Sylvie stood outside the little cabin, backed against the forest and took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew Jeanne was inside. It had belonged to her mother an age ago and her father had kept it in the family…for Jeanne. She climbed the steps and stood at the door, staring at it and the faded 'welcome' sign that hung askew on the old wood. She took out her gun, running a finger comfortably along the barrel before gripping it. She leaned back and kicked in the door, slamming it back against the wall behind it.

"That was easier twenty years ago," Sylvie muttered and strode inside with the gun raised.

Jeanne sat indian-style on the floor in front of the fireplace and spun in surprise at the noise. "Who's there?"

"We need to have a talk, Jeanne." Sylvie took a few more steps into the cabin, eyes searching every corner and allowed herself to relax slightly. They were alone in the single room cabin.

"Sylvie." Jeanne smiled suddenly and rose to her feet, blind eyes finding her godmother from the sound of her breathing. "Have you come to bring me back to the light? Make me see the error of my ways? I could make you see the error of yours."

"This doesn't have to end badly, Jeanne." Sylvie spoke calmly but never lowered the gun. "You were a good person once. You can be again. This thing that's happened to you, it doesn't have to change you like this."

"You think this is bad?" Jeanne shook her head. "This was the best thing that ever happened to me, Sylvie. I never saw clearly before my sight was taken and now…now the man with yellow eyes whispers such wonders to me in my dreams." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Things I will do, a destiny I can become."

Sylvie shook her head, horrified at hearing the madness in the woman's voice. "No one else has to die, Jeanne."

Jeanne laughed. "Sorry, Sylvie. Too late for that. My pet is going to eat your pets." She shrugged with a grin. "You really shouldn't have sent Dean and his brother into the forest this morning."

"Oh, God," Sylvie breathed and stared as Jeanne laughed cheerfully. She straightened her shoulders, steeling herself and took careful aim. "I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner…that I didn't save you." She pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot filled the cabin, and Sylvie watched sadly calm as Jeanne stumbled back, a look of shock on her face while blood blossomed on her chest. She fell back in a heap in front of the fire and lay still.

"I'm so sorry, Jeanne." Sylvie lowered the gun and huffed a sad breath out as she looked on the body of her goddaughter.

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Sam groaned and raised his head, trying hard not to give in to the urge to pass out. Dean was rolling to his knees a few feet away looking dazed still. Sam rolled his head and spotted his rifle to his right. He gripped the stock and pulled it back.

"Dean!" Sam called and shoved his rifle toward his brother with what little strength he had left.

Dean's head whipped around at his brother's voice. He reached out and caught the barrel of the rifle. "You alright?" Sam didn't answer him but he nodded his head. Dean got to one foot and pulled the rifle to him, bracing it against his shoulder as he faced the agitated creature. "Alright Birdzilla." He aimed and loosed a shot at it, hitting in the chest. It reared back with a scream, and Dean grinned, jacking another round into the chamber while the creature flapped and rose up into the air.

"Die already, dammit!" Dean yelled and brought the rifle up for another shot. He paused as it screamed again, seeming to falter in the air and dropped back to the ground as though disoriented. It was strange behavior. Dean shrugged and took his second shot. The bullet took it between the eyes. It keened loud enough to make Dean's ears hurt and fell forward into the ground. The creature twitched once and went still; dead.

"Finally," Dean nodded with a smile and lowered the rifle. He went to his brother and dropped down next to him where he still lay on his back. "You still alive?"

"Sadly," Sam groaned and took another deep breath. "Knocked the wind out of me."

Dean took his good arm and stood. "Come on. Gotta get back and see how Sylvie is."

Sam nodded and let Dean pull him to his feet. He swayed and would have gone back down if not for Dean's grip around his chest. "Crap." He let his head fall forward on a gasp.

"Just cannot catch a break on this job, huh, Sammy?" Dean smiled sadly and propped him against his side.

"I'm good," Sam insisted and even got his legs moving at the same time in a slow walk. His collision with the tree hadn't done him any favors. He could feel the bruising starting along his chest where he'd struck. He curled his left arm along his stomach as his shoulder burned with fresh pain from the scratches.

Dean half pulled, half carried his brother back through the woods to the car while Sam insisted he was 'fine' the entire way. He helped Sam ease into the backseat and lay on his back before shutting the door and dashing around to slide behind the wheel. He was worried about Sylvie and what had happened with her goddaughter. Dean didn't envy her having to deal with that and had a feeling he knew how it had turned out. Birdzilla had seemed to lose focus right at the end. Dean figured that last scream had been its master dying right before it did.

Sam laid in the backseat doing his best to breathe evenly through the pain across his chest. He'd be surprised if he hadn't fractured a rib or three; it hurt that bad. He let his right arm drop off the seat to the floor, closing his eyes and then frowned as his knuckles brushed something hard. He felt around and brought his hand up. Sam grinned and tucked the item away in his pocket as they drove.

Dean squealed to a stop in Sylvie's driveway and heaved a relieved breath when he saw her little car already there. He got out and opened the back door, helping Sam slide out and stand. "You make it to the house or do I have to carry you…again?"

"Bite me." Sam slapped his arm and then slid his own over Dean's shoulders. They limped up to the front door and Sam stopped. "By the way…"

Dean watched as Sam dug something out of his pocket and held it up. Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he saw his amulet drop from Sam's fingers. "Where'd you find it?" He took it and slipped the thong over his head, grinning as the familiar weight landed on his chest where it belonged.

"Back seat on the floor," Sam said and smiled, just as happy to see it in its usual place.

Dean opened the door and blinked furiously. He would never admit just how happy he was to have it back. It had been like missing a piece of himself.

Sylvie came down the hall to them with a smile, though her face was sad. "What's happened to him now?" She went to Sam and put a hand up to his face, frowning when she felt the start of another fever.

"Birdzilla got in one last smack," Dean informed her and pulled his brother toward the stairs.

"Yes, get him up to bed." Sylvie moved to let them pass. "I'll bring something up to drink."

"Sylvie?" Dean stopped to look at her. "You alright?"

Sylvie nodded. "I'm fine, Dean." She straightened the apron at her waist and looked back up at him. "Jeanne won't be threatening anyone again."

Dean nodded. Neither he nor Sam said anything; there was nothing that needed to be said. He headed up the stairs with a quickly wilting Sam beside him. "Little further."

Sam nodded but his mind was on Jeanne. Another child like him had turned evil and had to die. He couldn't stop the wave of fear that swept through him for himself and for Dean. He let Dean lead him down the hall and shove him onto the bed, still too wrapped up in his own mind to pay attention, so he jumped when Dean's hand hit the back of his head.

"Knock it off," Dean said gruffly and watched Sam stare up at him.

Sam smiled and nodded, letting his head fall forward into his good hand. "Ok."

"Good. Shirt." Dean slapped his arm and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the other bed. He considered sitting for a moment and changed his mind. The drive back had been a misery sitting. The thorns may have been gone, but his ass still felt like swiss cheese thanks to them.

"Dammit…little help here." Sam groaned in irritation, unable to get his t-shirt off his bad shoulder.

Dean snorted and tugged it carefully off and then sighed, seeing his chest. "Damn, Sam." A wide bruise was coming up across his chest from the tree he'd been thrown into. "Anything broken?"

"Can't decide." Sam suffered his big brother pressing along each rib up and down his chest, gasping a few times and sighed in relief when he finished.

"All in one piece, but you're gonna be hurtin' pretty soon." Dean shook his head and smirked. "Get horizontal. I'll find something for the pain."

"I can handle it," Sam swung his legs up to the bed and laid slowly back, holding his breath through the discomfort. "Been drugged enough, thanks."

"Uh huh." Dean rolled his eyes at him. "Fine."

"How are you, Sam?" Sylvie asked as she came in with a tray and two mugs. She tsked on seeing his chest and sighed while Dean took the tray and set it down on the table between the beds. "Thanks, dear. Here, Sam." She took one of the mugs and held it out to him. "Thought you might appreciate a cup of coffee."

"Thank you." Sam smiled and took the mug. He took a sip and puffed out a breath in surprise. "Whiskey?"

Sylvie chuckled and patted his arm. "Little something to take the edge off that." She waved at his chest. "One for you too." She handed the other mug to Dean and took a whiskey bottle from her apron, setting it on the tray. "How's your shoulder?"

"It's alright," Sam assured her. He chuckled when Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle and added more to his own coffee. "Should have just brought him a shot glass."

Sylvie laughed and rose. "I'll leave you boys to it. Roast chicken for dinner tonight. Seemed appropriate, somehow."

Dean made a happy noise at that. "Oh, hell, yeah." He finished off his 120 proof coffee and set the mug aside. "You need anything? I'm taking a shower."

"I'm good. Go." Sam waved a hand at him and sipped at his own coffee.

Dean grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went down the hall. He raised a brow when he found Sylvie waiting for him. "Sylvie?"

"Two things." She said softly, making sure Sam wouldn't overhear. "First, Jeanne said something about someone coming to her in her dreams. If that hasn't started with Sam yet, you should be on the lookout for it."

"In her dreams?" Dean asked, surprised. "He doesn't dream. He has nightmares."

Sylvie nodded. "Alright, probably nothing to worry about then. Second, I uh…spiked Sam's coffee." She smirked up at him. "I assumed he'd turn his nose up at being medicated and then assumed he'd probably need it anyway." She patted Dean's arm when he grinned at her and started past for the stairs.

"Sylvie…"

"I'm awesome. I know." She laughed and went downstairs.

Dean grinned and shook his head. "I really like her."

Sam felt his coffee mug slipping from his fingers and tried to catch it while fighting the urge to giggle. He frowned. What the hell was wrong with him? He rolled slightly and managed to get the mug on the table. His head swam a little and he snorted a soft laugh. He looked at the mug, focusing on it and suddenly he knew; they'd dosed his coffee.

"Son'fa'bitch," Sam slurred. He growled angrily and flopped back into the bed. It didn't help that his chest and shoulder were hurting less with the painkiller in his system. He didn't like that they'd been right. He glared over at Dean's bed and then at the whiskey bottle. His grimace turned into a smirk and he started chuckling

"Ok, Dean." Sam sat up slowly, wobbling and leaned over his bed to look. He saw what he wanted; his bag tucked under the side. He chuckled and leaned down, overbalancing and ended up on his knees. He snorted and pulled his bag out. Sam rummaged through and found what he wanted in the bottom.

Dean walked back into the bedroom, toweling his hair dry and cursed to find Sam picking himself up off the floor. "Sam, what the hell?" He went over and reached down to his little brother who was actually giggling. "Geez, man. How much did Sylvie put in there?"

Sam groaned. "Aw, too soon!" He still held the tube of glue in his hand. He'd squeezed it too hard and had been about to try to wipe off what he squirted out to cover his hand. As Dean pulled him up, Sam reflexively took hold of his forearm. "Uh oh."

"Dude, get back in bed. You're high." Dean shoved him back onto the bed. "Let go and lay down ya clingy girl."

"Can't." Sam snickered.

"Yes, you can. Just lay down already." Dean tried to take a step away but Sam kept his grip on his arm. "Dude, are you five?"

Sam's snicker turned into a laugh and then he snorted. "Can't."

"What do you mean you…" Dean raised his right arm and Sam's came with him. He looked at his brother's other hand and groaned. "Tell me that's not super glue again. Sammy?"

"Ok. I's not…It's not super glue again." Sam tossed it onto the table and laughed while Dean tried to pry his now stuck hand from his arm. "Was gonna glue the bottle."

"Well, you missed!" Dean yelled and pulled at Sam's fingers. His hand was cemented to Dean's arm. "We're out of solvent, jackass! I had to use it all to get the damn beer bottle off last week!"

Sam fell back laughing, unable to comprehend the level of rage on Dean's face in his drugged state.

"What is going on up here?" Sylvie came into the room and stared at them.

"Please tell me you have solvent around here somewhere?" Dean raised his arm and Sam's hand. "College boy glued himself to me!"

Sylvie snorted. "Oh, my." She clapped a hand over her mouth while Sam continued to laugh flat on his back and Dean glared death down at him. "Uh…I uh…no, actually." She laughed into her hand and took a deep breath to try and contain it as Dean turned the death-glare on her. "I can get some, though." She backed to the door as her laugh threatened to bubble up again. "Tomorrow. It's Sunday. Small town. Nothing's open."

"Dammit!" Dean's yell followed Sylvie and her laughter as she fled down the hall. "Sammy," He growled down at his little brother and rolled his eyes. Sam's laughter was slowly fading and he was heading quickly into a drugged sleep. "Son of a…I am gonna kill you. Swear to God." He manhandled Sam around so he was lying on the bed properly, head on his pillow. It was more problematic than normal thanks to Sam's hand being glued to his arm and his boneless state from the painkiller and whiskey.

"Now what the hell do I do?" Dean dropped to the side of the bed, hissed and stood back up. His backside was still tender and he rubbed his free hand over it, grimacing as his jeans rubbed at the thorn wounds. He looked down as Sam snickered and gave his arm a tug. "Shut up. You are not on my list of favorite people right now. I'm friggin' tired, man!" He looked over at his own bed longingly and sighed. He looked back at Sam and slapped his free hand into his head. "You suck, Sam."

Dean groaned again and climbed up on the bed and over his brother to the other side. It took some shifting but he ended up on his side with his right arm, attached to Sam's hand, over his brother's waist. It had been a comforting way to sleep when Sam had been a kid and Dean rolled his eyes at himself. "Guess this is one way to keep a damn eye on you," He muttered to the back of Sam's head, feeling the low grade fever warming him from Sam's back.

Sam chuckled softly, sleepily and tugged on his brother's arm. "We're cuddling."

"We are NOT cuddling, jackass!" Dean slapped the back of Sam's head lightly, making him snort a laugh as the drug and the whiskey pulled him under to sleep. He shifted around, finding a comfortable position for his other arm and settled his head. He closed his eyes and listened to Sam who was breathing deeply. The sound lulled Dean to sleep as it had a thousand times as a child. His head rolled into the back of his little brother's neck and he sighed, contented.

Sylvie peeked her head around the door and smiled softly at seeing the brothers curled up together, never mind it was because Sam, in his drugged state, had glued himself to his older brother. She snorted a soft laugh and looked down at the bottle of solvent she'd unearthed in the basement. "It can wait," She said softly and pulled the door quietly closed on them.

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The End.

Author's Note: DON'T GO ANYWHERE! :D If you prompted this story, you'll find your name in the list below. As a thank you to all of you who did such an amazing job keeping me on my toes, I offer the only gift I can give. A One Shot Story of your choosing.

Either comment this chapter or Private Message with: Which season you would like it set in and what you would like the story to be about either in general or in detail. Anything your little supernatural hearts desire. Except Wincest. As stated in every chapter...I don't write that. :D

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