Hola everyone! This here be a squeal to Eden. and goes out for all you Hurt!Dean lovers! hehe, this is gonna rule...long live the twist. anywho, thanks much to Glitz for bein' one mad awesome beta, y'all know reviews are like Christmas, and I don't own anything on the Supernatural...though there are a few teeth marks on Sa-hehehe, nevermind! enjoy, review and have fun!


The Accessories Make the Outfit

Lately, the downtime between hunts was Sam's favorite event. There was no violence, no new nasty waiting for them, no worrying if that hunt was their last. Plus, he had a new project that exercised his mind rather than his limbs. He decided to catalogue Tiffany's amulets and jewelry.

A witch who tried to use the Winchesters as a sacrifice, Tiffany had died at Sam's hand. Of course, after attacking Dean twice, and himself once, the witch had it coming. No pun intended. The late woman wove magic through her hands and her chains, storing and sorting power in endless ways. Predictably, she didn't exactly label each gaudy piece, and she wasn't Glenda, so Sam decided to research and document the collection rather than risk something malevolent be released if he tried destroying them.

Dean, however, wasn't interested in this task. He thought they were ugly hunks of junk, suitable for pawning only. He reserved trepidation for things with fangs or a bad allergy to salt.

"Hey Bobby, yeah, it's Sam." He figured that the older hunter would help in preliminary research. "Yeah, hunt was fine, usual crap, pesky black dog." He snorted at Bobby's reply, "Alright, pain in the ass black dog. So I'm looking at these amulets again..."

Dean toned Sam out, looking at the jewelry lying on the bed behind his brother, taking them in with his keen eyes. This stuff really was butt-ugly. Unable to resist, Dean skimmed his fingers along the cool chains. Some glittering and delicate, others heavy and stiff. Sam, his attention on Bobby and the laptop, paid his curious brother no mind. Steadily Dean's amusement turned into a slight grin as he thought of the fit Sam would throw at the prospect of Dean's fondling. Sheesh, didn't Sammy know, I'm the responsible one?

"Alright Bobby, thanks. I'll check that site out." Dean stepped back, feigning innocence. But Sam simply turned his attention to the proffered website.

Dean gave into his bored nature, picking out an amulet from the pile. He slipped it over his neck and struck a pose. "Hey Sam, check out my bling." He grinned his widest grin and waited for the reaction he knew was coming.

"Bling?" Sam looked up distractedly, his reaction perfect. "Dean! What the hell? I told you not to touch those!" He made a grab for the chain.

Dean danced out of his reaction, "What? It doesn't go with my outfit?" Eyes twinkling, he gave a mock sad face and held the chain out from his body, jutting out the opposite hip.

"No, you retard." Sam huffed, "It might do something...unpleasant to you. Take it off."

Looking down, Dean fingered the stone, joke forgotten. It was black, but shone like a diamond, and was surrounded by wrought silver in a whiplash pattern. It wasn't ugly, really, gothic perhaps, but not ugly. He ran his thumb across the cool smoothness of the obsidian.

A sudden jerk in his solar plexus, Dean grunted and felt himself falling back into a black abyss.


Sam jumped as Dean grunted and fell back. "Dean?" Sam said half suspicious and half concerned, watching his brother's stocky frame fall and disappear from his line of sight. Sam startled as Dean hit the floor and disappeared from his line of sight. "Dean. You okay?"

Wary of another Winchester prank, Sam got up slowly to peer over the bed and found his brother sprawled, head back and hands clawing at the sky. His previously grinning face was twisted in a grimace, eyes screwed up against an invisible pain.

"Dean!" Sam crossed the small motel room in two strides and knelt by his brother, grabbing his rigid hand in his own. "Dude, wha-?"

The amulet, still hanging around Dean's neck, was pulsating slightly. "Dammit." Sam reached for it, figuring the pain would stop as it was removed. But he stopped as Dean's face and hands relaxed and remained still. "Dean?"

Sam made to let go of his brother's slack hand, but jumped again as Dean suddenly gripped Sam by the wrist. "Hey, Dean. You okay? Talk to me here."

Dean's eyes shot open, electric blue and vacant. He took a gulping breath and met Sam's concerned gaze. Those weren't Dean's eyes; Sam's trepidation increased ten fold as a malicious smile curved his older brother's lips. He sat up, still holding onto Sam, and pulled their faces inches apart.

"Sorry, Dean's not here right now, can I take a message?"

Reacting on instinct, Sam jerked back and gasped. That wasn't Dean. The calloused fingers surrounding his wrist tightened until the bones ground together, eliciting a wince.

"Didya miss me, Sammy-boy?"

"Who-?"

"Oh, I'm hurt." It pouted, an expression foreign to Dean's countenance even on a normal basis. "C'mon wonder child, I know you recognize me. Here," HIs free hand, the hand not gripping Sam's, moved in a complex pattern, "I'll remind you."

Pain rippled through Sam's head, sparing no space, and offering no mercy.

"Argh!" Bringing his free hand to his head, Sam tried to drive out the power, pressing his palm against his temple. It felt like serrated knives were cutting slices of his brain, moving with such slowness that Sam silently begged it to go faster. Instead, the force moved its way through his body.

Curling his aching head to his chest and shrinking in on himself, Sam barely felt the wrench and pop on his wrist.

The voice above him spoke, "You remember now boy? Do you remember?" So many times, that voice comforted him, laughed at him, even yelled at him. But now, as Sam shivered against the pain and horror, he feared that voice and its hijacker.

"Tiffany," he grunted as waves of burning pain continued to assail him. "You're dead. I killed you."

A low chuckle met his ears, "Ooh, and you'll pay for that, dear one. But no, I have back up methods."

The pain spiked as it rippled down Sam's spine. Arching, attempting to get away from a pain he couldn't escape, Sam yelled.

"Hmm, you've grown stronger than last time. Good. It'll make it so much more potent."

"Where's...Dean?" Sam ground out.

"Oh, don't worry, he's fine, trapped and mine." Again, a chuckle sounded. "I love rhyming."

Sam squinted through the din in his body at the witch possessing his brother. He arrived at one solution. Mentally uttering an apology, Sam drove his unbroken hand into his brother's alien expression, knocking the witch flat out.


yeah, yeah, so i still gotta pimp the limp, so sue me. actually, don't. i have no money. hehe, anyway, hope you enjoyed. more to come...airing live from Dean's head!