Summary: Sam's powers are blocked by a demon. Dean has a revelation about said powers.
A/N: This is set pretty early in the series. Maybe around season 3. And it's an angst-free fic! Well, I guess Sam's a bit sulky but just gets like that sometimes. And Dean's a bit of a jerk in this but he's doing that on purpose. On a related note: I really like Sam's nose and don't think it's too long.
"I feel so useless!" Sam dropped his forehead onto the open book in front of him with an audible thunk.
Dean grinned and shook his head. "You're not useless. You're just normal, Sam. As normal as a freak like you can be, anyway."
Sam turned his head so that Dean could see his face and glared at him, which would have been much more intimidating had the right side of his face not been squashed against the library book. "I can't do anything," he growled.
Dean rolled his eyes. "So some demon blocked your weird powers. You've lived without them pretty much all your life and you got along fine."
"We have to get them back."
Dean loudly slammed the book in front of him shut. A nearby librarian who was lurking behind the stacks scowled at him. "Well, these books ain't exactly helpful. Come on, let's go find out what else this demon has been up to."
"This sucks out loud." Dean downed his black coffee and glared at his notes as if blaming them for his lack of success. "Dude, we didn't get anything. Usually people just see my stunning good looks and your puppy eyes and they just…" He trailed off, furrowing his eyes at his brother. Sam, perusing Dad's journal while sipping his cappuccino, looked up expectantly.
Dean leaned forward, his green eyes boring into Sam. The younger Winchester tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
"Sam," said Dean, his tone deadly serious. "You know that even without your powers you're still a half-demon monster, right?"
Sam paled and his mouth dropped open. "Dean! Why would you say that?!" His blue eyes had widened so that looked large and pained, his brows drawing in to create an overall effect of absolutely adorable sadness. Something was missing though… Dean leaned forward over the tiny café table between them, not taking his eyes off Sam's face. As Dean's nose approached his own Sam's expression morphed from a mixture of sad and horrified to bemused.
Dean pouted. "No, don't change your expression! Ugh! Er, you're a failure at college! Your nose is too long! Your shirt's stupid! Dammit, Sam, look sad!"
A number of other café customers were watching Dean, whose voice was rising with frustration, disapprovingly. Sam shot them a nervously apologetic smile.
"Dean, keep it down!" he hissed. He stared at Dean pleadingly, eyes wide and innocent, and Dean leaned back in his chair looking satisfied.
"Huh," he said, then let out what could only be described as a giggle.
"I hate you," sulked Sam.
"No, you love me. Because I just figured that you have another ability." He grinned smugly and crossed his arms. Damn, he was smart!
"Well, don't rush to tell me or anything," snapped Sam. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Your puppy eyes!" Dean pronounced triumphantly. Sam regarded him with a look that clearly indicated that he didn't believe Dean's theory at all.
"I don't believe you," he said. "My… 'puppy eyes' or whatever are not part of a set of powers given to me by Azazel."
Dean spread his hands in a come on! gesture. "Yeah they are! It's like that kid who could psychically persuade anyone to do what he said. Your puppy eyes are your power of persuasion."
Sam looked unconvinced. Dean stood up and crammed his notes into his jeans pocket. "Come on, we gotta get your powers back. We're lost without your puppy eyes." He gulped down the dregs of his coffee, took a step away from the table, then paused. "By the way, I didn't mean what I said earlier. You're not a monster, and your shirt's fine."
He ran out of the café without paying. Sam sighed and muttered "Jerk" under his breath while dropping some cash onto the table before following.
Sometimes he really did hate his brother.