Disclaimer: Don't own the Winchesters or anything Supernatural-related. Title taken from the song "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones.

A/N: Couldn't stay away too long...this story is more of a case-fic than my others were. Takes place in Jersey, cause that's what I know best. Time line is shortly after Born Under a Bad Sign, so there are spoilers up to and including that episode. I probably won't be able to update this one as quickly as I did Find Your Way Back, but I may work harder the more convincing (and prolific) your reviews are...(hint hint). Neways, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Set in season 2, a few weeks after Born Under a Bad Sign. Dean and Sam, mentally and physically exhausted from the events of the last year, take on a case in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, where they're told that the Jersey Devil has been hunting and killing tourists. Hurt!Dean, coming right up...

Chords from AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" pounded through the speakers of the small roadside bar as Sam watched his brother defeat yet another poor sap at darts. He's really cleaning up tonight Sam thought as Dean pocketed his winnings, smiling and flirting with the girls who had become enthralled with his performance.

Sam took a sip from his beer, looking down at the newspapers that he'd spread in front of him on the table. The brothers had stopped in Philadelphia after their last hunt, a relatively simple salt and burn involving a ghost at one of the dorms in Villanova. But that was the only thing that had been easy lately and Sam had been pressing Dean to let them take a break, just stop for a little while. The last few months had been hard on both of them.

Sam looked at Dean again, frowning when he saw him put a hand to his left shoulder, wincing slightly as he tried to rub a knot out of it. It had only been a few weeks since Sam had been possessed by Meg and Sam was having a hard time forgiving himself for what he'd done to his brother. Dean constantly told him to forget it, insisting that it wasn't him. But it was hard to forget, especially when he knew that Dean was still in pain from the bullet wound Meg had inflicted, could see it reflected in Dean's face whenever he let his mask slip.

And it wasn't just the physical pain either. Sam had heard what Meg had said to Dean about their father, about hell. If the issue hadn't been eating at Dean enough already, Meg's confirmation that John was in hell, suffering so that Dean could live, only added to Dean's guilt. Of course, he would never tell Sam how he was feeling. Gonna have to make him talk sooner or later, Sam decided, just as a round of clapping resounded through the bar. Sam looked up to see Dean collecting more money from his latest opponent, acknowledging the cheers coming from the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around him.

Sam caught Dean's eyes and Dean smirked back at him, saying something to one of the girls and then heading over to where Sam sat.

"You looked like you were doing pretty well," Sam remarked.

"Pretty well?" Dean held up a wad of bills. "Five hundred bucks, my brother. We're eating steak tonight."

Sam smiled at that. Sure, the fake credit cards allowed them to pay for room and board, but it was always nice to have real money.

Dean took a sip from his beer and pointed to the newspapers Sam had been looking at. "You find anything weird in there?"

"Not really, man. At least not our kind of weird."

Dean nodded, thinking. "I guess we can look a little harder tomorrow." Dean made a move to go back to the bar when Sam spoke up.

"Do we have to?" Sam asked, a pleading tone to his voice. Dean looked up at that and Sam continued. "I just mean, can't we take a break? I feel like we've been running on empty these last few months. Ever since dad…" he trailed off. Still couldn't force himself to talk about their dad's death. "And you were the one who had suggested we take a break. Back in Oregon," Sam reminded him, thinking back to the day when Dean had told him of his promise to their father to save Sammy.

Dean's face softened a little. "I know. I do," he insisted at Sam's skeptical look. "But I…" he paused, searching for the words. "I just feel like I need to be doing something now, you know?" Sam waited. "Saving people…it's all I've known. And I can't just stop. Not right now at least." Sam heard the unspoken, not while Dad's in hell because of me.

Sam shook his head, frustration warring with sympathy. He looked at Dean, saw the raw pain on his face, the pleading look he was giving him. Sympathy won out. "Fine," Sam grumbled. "We'll look tomorrow." He saw the look of relief that flashed across Dean's face. "But we're only taking a job if it really seems legitimate, okay? And only if people are really in danger."

Dean nodded. He could live with those terms for the time being. "Yeah, sure," he responded. No point in arguing with Sam now, Dean thought as his attention returned to the girls who were still gushing over his heroic darts performance. They were beckoning for Dean to come back. "Let me know when you wanna leave, Sammy. I'm gonna go play a few more games," he told him, wandering back over to his eager fans.

By the time Sam was ready to go, Dean had won an additional two hundred dollars. He had also consumed a fair amount of alcohol and was feeling pretty good. Sam had to help his inebriated brother to the car, depositing him unceremoniously in the passenger side of the Impala, all the while reassuring him that he was, indeed, the world's greatest big brother.

In the five minutes it had taken Sam to drive to the motel that the brothers were staying at, Dean had passed out, snoring softly against the window. Sam was able to rouse him long enough to get him into the room and deposit him on the bed, but Dean was out again almost immediately. Sam tugged off his boots and threw a blanket over his prone form. Hope it was worth it, bro, he thought, knowing he'd be hurting in the morning. Sam shut off the light and fell into a deep sleep, trying his best to forget about demons and hell and his brother's promise.

Sam awoke just as the sun was coming up, feeling more refreshed than he had in quite awhile. He heard the water running in the bathroom and noticed the blanket that Dean had discarded on the floor. Sam was mildly surprised that Dean was up already until he heard the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. That's why, Sam thought as he rubbed the remains of sleep from his eyes and made his way over to the bathroom.

Dean looked up at Sam from his perch beside the toilet, misery plastered on his face as he groaned softly. And Sam was this tempted to feel bad for him. But then the memories of his night of drinking at the Pierpont Inn came back to him and he changed his mind. "You know there's a really good hangover remedy," he started, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw the recognition cross Dean's face. "It's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray," he finished, relishing the groan of disgust that Dean offered in reply.

"I hate you," he muttered, echoing Sam's own response to that advice. Dean closed his eyes as he felt another wave of nausea wash over him. "Man, what they hell did I drink last night?"

"Dunno," Sam replied honestly, stepping into the bathroom and wetting a wash cloth for his brother. "You were the hit of the night though. Everyone wanted to buy you a shot. Apparently you were more than willing to accept."

"Bad idea," Dean asserted, swallowing thickly. He gratefully took the wash cloth from Sam, holding it against his forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache. He sat on the floor for a few minutes, waiting for the room to stop spinning. When he felt steady enough to get up, he reached out for the hand that Sam was offering and stood slowly, stumbling back into the room to sit on his still-made bed.

Sam looked over at his brother whose eyes were squeezed shut again. "Want some Tylenol?" he asked, and Dean nodded tightly. Sam grabbed a glass of water and a few pills and handed them to Dean, who gratefully swallowed them down. "It's still early, Dean. Why don't you try and sleep for a bit? I'll go out and get some newspapers and coffee." Dean nodded, scooting back on the bed and lying down. "Call me if you need anything," Sam told him, grabbing the Impala's keys and opening the door. The only response he got was Dean's steady breathing.

Sam returned an hour later to find Dean in the same position he had left him, snoring softly against the pillows. Sam had sat in the little cafe down the street from the motel, drinking coffee and reading the paper, enjoying the constant bustle of people. He still hadn't found anything that he deemed hunt-worthy, but then he hadn't been looking all that hard, despite what Dean had insisted. Sam had headed back to the room after he'd finished his coffee, deciding he and Dean could stop at a diner for breakfast and coffee once his brother was awake, thus neglecting to bring Dean back his own coffee. Sam settled down with some more newspapers at the little table in the motel and waited for Dean to wake up.

Dean began stirring around 10:30 and Sam looked up as he rubbed a hand across his sweaty face. "Ugh," he said, gingerly pulling himself into a sitting position, his hair sticking up in all directions.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, putting down the newspaper he'd been reading.

"No," Dean replied shortly. "Ugh," he repeated and Sam smirked at him.

"You learn your lesson, dude?" he asked him, knowing Dean would be pissed that he was treating him like a 5-year-old. But hey, what did he expect?

"I learned that I'm awesome at darts," Dean retorted, "and an idiot," he added as he pressed his fingers against his temples.

"Uh huh," Sam agreed. "Why don't you get dressed? We can head over to the local diner in a bit," Sam suggested.

Dean looked like he was going to object, but nodded anyway. "I'm gonna shower," he said instead, "I feel gross."

"And brush your teeth!" Sam shouted at him as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut.

Dean came out of the shower fifteen minutes later looking and feeling decidedly better than he had when he'd gotten up. He agreed to go to breakfast with Sam and the two headed out, walking the short distance to the diner Sam had mentioned earlier. Their waitress, Jolene, was the sweet, motherly type and immediately took to the boys when she saw them walk in. Sam was always amused by the way he and Dean were often treated by their older waitresses, like the women just knew the boys needed someone to take care of them.

Jolene placed the menus down in front of the brothers, already filling up their mugs with coffee before they'd even asked for it. Sam smiled at that, thanking her. "I could tell you needed it," she explained. Sam laughed softly, knowing she was referring to Dean. "Do you know what you boys want or would you like a few more minutes?"

"I'll have a short stack of pancakes," Sam answered immediately. "And a western omelet," he added when he felt his stomach rumbling at the thought of real food.

Jolene nodded, turning her focus to Dean, "And you, Sweetie?"

"Can I also have the pancakes?" he asked, "and a side of bacon." Jolene took their menus, assuring them she'd be back in a jiffy.

"So still no hunts?" Dean asked after a few minutes. Sam frowned at Dean's unrelenting desire to find a hunt.

"Nah," Sam said halfheartedly. "You can help me look after breakfast." Dean seemed satisfied with that answer and the two sat in companionable silence for the next few minutes until Jolene bustled back to their tables holding two steaming plates.

"Smells delicious," Sam said enthusiastically. Dean just nodded his thanks.

"Let me know if I can get you two anything else," Jolene told them and hurried back to the kitchen once Sam had reassured her that they were fine for now.

Sam devoured his breakfast, eating like he'd been starved for weeks. He looked over at Dean who had approached his breakfast far less ravenously and who now had a hand against his head again.

"You okay man?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Stupid hangover," Dean answered. "I'm never drinking again."

Sam smiled. "Sureee," he drawled.

Dean managed to eat a little more than half of his breakfast, letting Sam finish the bacon which was just too greasy for him to stomach at the moment. Dean threw down a few bills from the giant wad he'd won the night before and the two got up and walked back to the motel.

Sam was seated at the bed, searching the internet for hunts while Dean scoured the newspapers. Sam was pretty sure Dean wasn't actually reading the papers since every time he'd looked over at him, Dean had been pressing his hands against his forehead. Sam was just about to say something when Dean got up from the table, heading quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

Sam waited a few minutes before getting up to check on Dean who was still in the process of puking up his breakfast. He knocked once, slowly opening the door and stepping into the bathroom. The scene was a near facsimile of the one from that morning, only this time Sam did find himself feeling sympathetic for his brother. That had to be one mother of a hangover.

Sam crouched down next to his brother. "You okay, man?" he asked.

"Nngh," Dean responded. "Shoot me now."

Sam chuckled a little. "Don't think so, brother. You done in here?" Dean nodded slightly. "Okay barf boy, let's get you back to the bed," Sam said, helping Dean stand. The two stumbled to Dean's bed and Sam deposited him there. "No more research for you today," Sam said, looking critically at his brother, "just sleep it off, okay?"

Dean wanted to protest but he knew Sam was right. So instead he closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep, hoping the pounding headache would be gone when he awoke.

Sam kept surfing the internet for a few hours before he felt his eyes drooping shut. He closed his eyes, intending to open them in a few minutes. Instead, he was jolted awake by the ringing of his cell phone a good two hours later. He looked over at Dean who was still in a dead sleep. Checking the caller ID, Sam saw that it was Bobby, and he stood up and walked to the door of the motel room before picking up.

"Hey Bobby," Sam said warmly, still feeling indebted to the hunter after all he'd done for him and Dean. Heck, if Meg hadn't made Sam go to Bobby's after her rendezvous with Jo, it was likely that she would still be inside him. Sam shuddered at the thought.

"Hey Sam," Bobby answered back, and Sam noticed that his voice seemed less tense than it had the last time they'd talked to him, after he'd told them that Steve Wandell's buddies were looking for someone to string up for his murder. "How are you boys doing?"

Sam looked back at Dean. "We've been better," he answered honestly. "It's been a tough few weeks."

"Dean okay?" Bobby asked, concern seeping into his voice.

"More or less," Sam answered. "Right now he's sleeping off a hangover though."

Bobby snorted at that. "Kid did always love his liquor." He waited a beat. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that Wandell's buddies haven't been able to find diddly-squat at the crime scene. And they seem to be giving up their head hunting for the time being."

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Finally, some good news. "That's great, Bobby. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. Oh, another thing. Last time I talked to Dean he said you two were headed to the east coast. You still there?"

"Yeah, we're in Philly now. Just finished up a case."

"Philly, huh? Well I may have a hunt near there, if you're up for it." He waited for Sam to answer.

"Dean'd kill me if I turned you down," Sam responded, though Bobby could hear the weariness in his voice.

"Boy's not letting up, is he?" Bobby asked.

"Nah, you know him. But it's okay, I'll get him to stop eventually. This is what he wants right now though."

Bobby waited a few seconds and Sam thought he wasn't going to continue. "If you say so. Anyway, the case is in New Jersey. The Pine Barrens, to be more specific."

Sam thought he knew where this was going but he let Bobby continue.

"I don't know how much your daddy told you about the Jersey Devil legend, but it seems as though there have been a bunch of recent sightings of a big, flying, horse-like creature with glowing red eyes."

"Red eyes?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, I know. But it's already killed three tourists in the last month alone."

"Crap."

"Yeah, nasty creature. Anyway, could be a wendigo, could be a werewolf. Or it may just be a plain old, non-supernatural animal killing people. Or it could be the Jersey Devil. But I got a few calls from some friends who wanted to see if I had someone who could check it out."

"Okay," Sam said, mulling over the situation. "Can I get back to you in a little? I want to talk to Dean first and he may be out for a couple hours."

"Of course. And tell that brother of yours to slow down." Bobby added warmly.

"I will. Thanks, Bobby. I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye Sam."

Looks like Dean got his wish, Sam thought wryly as he looked down at his peacefully sleeping brother. Dammit.

Hope you're liking where this is going. Please review and let me know!