Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: This little plot bunny came to me while I had my own bout of Laryngitis this week – which sucked. BUT, I had to try it out!

AN2: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

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Without a Word

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Dean's been crabby since Tuesday. It's Saturday now and he's completely lost his voice. The constant coughing and hacking from his bout of bronchitis left his voice raw and raspy at first. It then escalated, as all things Dean-related usually do, to the squeaky and whispery voice. That lost its appeal around Thursday and, by law of Winchester, meant his voice had to get lost too.

Right now he's got one arms flailing angrily and glaring at his brother.

Sam, who had used a bacon and cheese burger as an excuse for consolation, looked up from his laptop, finally noticing Dean's attempt to catch his attention, "Huh, yeah?"

A frown and he gestures shaking. He motioned to his greasy burger and fries as if it were an explanation in itself. Can you not SEE what the problem is?

"I asked for extra salt and ketchup, don't pin this on me," Sam snapped.

A rudimentary pout followed Sam's explanation.

"I know, I know... sorry. I'll stock up when I go for dinner," Sam relented after a while. "You find anything yet?"

A shake of the head and his own croak of a sigh came as a reply. No, thanks, unless you can whip me up a handy-dandy morphine IV.

Sam scratched his head for a moment, "Maybe we've been looking in the wrong place?" he said, turning his laptop enough so Dean could see, "Looks like we've got a local website for the weird."

The screen had a huge purple pentagram glowing, some links to spells and summoning rituals, all of it.

The next morning Sam's up and dressed while Dean's snoring like a chainsaw. Sam took a seat on his own bed, staring at his brother. Considering Sam already finished cleaning the guns, packing the bags, taking a shower... Dean must be really tired to have not woken up yet. Sam prodded the side of Dean's bed with his foot, "Dean, wake up."

A squeak came from Dean's bed, followed by Dean's head poking out of the blanket fort. He looked over for a moment before jumping up.

"Wait-whao... Dude, I just wanted to know if I can get you anything." Sam quickly stated, standing up too.

Either Dean was decidedly ignoring his brother, or he was really determined to go along. He's tugging on jeans and a tee, his sneakers are slipped on in record time. And, the answer was apparent when Dean's eyebrows are waggling like he's just scored. See? I'm ready for action!

Dean suddenly snaps forward, a hoarse cough suddenly rips through his system. And it seemed that his bronchitis-episode hadn't completely receded yet. He coughs harshly a couple more times, clutching his chest.

"You okay?" Sam asked, not sure if jumping up and running over is a bit too extreme at the moment.

Dean held up the 'one minute' sign and rested his hands on his knees until he caught his breath. One second, dude... at least until I'm sure I won't hock out my own lungs. He finally held up a thumbs-up and looked up with a grin. Good to go.

"You are so going to stay here." Sam snapped, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

Now, Dean's got his finger pointing to himself then at Sam, a circle in the air followed by a forwards motion. We're both going.

"I'm just going to interview the creators of that website... nothing serious..." Sam said, his smile not as convincing as it should be.

Lost voice or not, all of Dean's other senses were fine. Including his 'lie-o-meter', and right now, it was going off like a fire alarm. It all comes from years and years of living with someone, learning their habits and give-aways.

To make his point clear, Dean jangled the Impala's keys in front of Sam before stalking out the door. You're not going anywhere without me.

They drive in silence until they reach a stretch of uptown apartments. Manicured lawns and sprinklers. Not exactly a witch's playground.

"Katelyn Westen lives in apartment hundred and fourteen, sixth floor..." Sam looks up from their Dad's journal with a frown, "If she's really a witch... shouldn't there be some angelica or something growing here?"

Dean scanned the area before smiling to himself and walking back to Sam. His brother stood patiently by as Dean paged through the journal until he reaches the page where their father wrote down all the herbs grown for the use of the occult. He runs his finger along the list of names until he reaches 'Wormwood'.

"Seriously?" Sam asked, and looked up. His brother points to the side of the building next to the ranking Ivy. The woody climbing plant was thriving in the shady spot, "huh... Good eye."

The older Winchester shrugged smugly and walked towards the building. He seemed fine, unless you discount his swaying walk, hunched shoulders, his occasional suppressed coughing. Oh yes. A picture of health.

Even the stairs up to the witch's apartment were a pain in the ass. Dean could feel his thighs burning and shaking from the exertion, his hands tingling and dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. He stopped on the landing at the fourth floor, flipping open his cell and checking the messages on his phone. He leaned on the wall, holding up the 'one minute' sign again.

The younger of the two took the time to check their gear, shoving the nine mil glock in the waistband of his jeans. He had the good graces to take his time to give his brother time to rest as he checked the ammo.

After a few minutes, Dean shoved himself away from the wall, elbowing Sam in the ribs.

Sam handed him a sawed-off, "Ready?"

A wink came as his reply. You know it, Sammy.

Five minutes later and the pair of them were standing on the sixth floor. It's still pretty early, it being just past eight and all. Late fall in Denver, Colorado is kinda cool. Freezing, actually, and even at 2 centigrade below, it seemed as if the sky was only seconds away from cursing them with snow. It might be October, but the feeling of hands going numb because of the cold... yes. They hadn't planned on it being this cold so early.

"You still okay, dude?" Sam looked over to Dean, and he can't help but wonder if allowing him to come along wasn't one of the many things he'll regret.

Dean's got his hands withdrawn into his jacket, blowing air into the cuffs of his sleeves to help warm them up. He looked at Sam pointedly for a minute before jerking his head to the direction of the apartment. Mind your own damn business.

"If you don't feel okay, you should let me know now... you know what dad said about hunting when you're sick," Sam said and tugged on Dean's elbow, "We can always come back later... she's not going anywhere."

Dean frowned darkly and opened his mouth but all that came out was a squeaky whisper. And, of course, that didn't help things. He's got gesturing wildly with both his hands now. He cups his hand, motions a ripping action, punches his fist in the air and whirls it around for a moment. I'm going to rip off you-

Sam turns pink and frowned deeply, "It's not my fault your immune system's gone to hell, " and couldn't help but add a "If you actually added some salad to your four pounds of grease burgers, maybe you'll be able to fight off more than just blocked arteries."

His brother suppressed another cough and flipped him the bird. Bitch.

"Jerk", followed a roll of Sammy's eyes.

They made their way down the hallway, silently checking each door for any other signs. 110, 112... They stop in front of hundred and fourteen, both crouching on either side.

A nod in unison and Sam knocks on the door, "Ms Westen, we've got reports of gas leakage in this floor... would you mind if we came in for a spot check?" he asked formally.

No reply.

Dean readies his sawed-off and stands up. He holds one hand above his head for a second. Cover me.

Sam nods and got his safety pin and wrench to the lock. He fiddles with the lock, swearing several times as the lock springs back into place. He finally manoeuvres the lock open and pulled on the handle. He pushes the door open and Dean moves into the apartment, scans the area. Sam followed up and cleared the right.

Dean motioned to the right and headed towards the left.

The whole apartment was searched through but nothing was found. Katelyn Westen looked like a normal, twenty-six year old woman. They meet up in the kitchen.

"Place is clean... nothing out of the ordinary," Sam said with a frown, still scanning the room warily.

It isn't until Dean walked over to the fridge and checked out the contents when he noticed it. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the drawers next to the sink. He kicked the fridge closed and opened up the first drawer. Only, the drawer didn't open... instead, all four fake drawers were a cover for a single slide cabinet. He pulled it out until the rollers stopped. And there it all was. Rows and rows of herbs, dried bones, threads...

"Are you turning into Daredevil?" Sam joked, checking out the contents of the cabinet.

Dean's waggling his eyebrows again and straightened up, cringing as his back protests.

Sam sighed after a few minutes, "We'll have to come back later... "

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Thanks for reading!

I'm not too sure I'll complete this... I've never tried writing something like this before, so... I'll see how it goes with fave's and reviews. So, if you did like it, please let me know! I'll really appreciate it! :D