Once again, this story was written for Tyranusfan. I don't think it was exactly what he was looking for but I do hope he enjoyed my feeble attempt anyway. This chapter is unbeta'd so any mistakes are definitely my own. I just wanted to get this posted and do appreciate all the support my beta, Red Hardy does give. I was just a bit anxious to get this one done. I hope you will enjoy it.
'I wish to God, Dean had never gotten his wish…'
And just like that, it was over.
KATT was gone.
The Impala rocked to a halt mere inches from the edge of the precipice as Dean's feet stomped hard on the brake. Shit!
For one long second he thought it was a trick and that KATT was just messing with him but then he realized he was in control again. Halla'freakin'luja…Wearied, relief had him pressing his head against the steering wheel and groaning softly.
What a crappy day.
And then the smell of vomit had him gagging again.
Bobby scrabbled for his cell phone desperate to make sure Dean was okay. His heart almost stuttered to a stop when it took three rings before a hoarse, 'She's gone.' And he knew Dean was all right. Maybe not stellar, from the sound of his voice, but alive and Bobby was willing to take what he could get.
The older hunter let out his breath and, exhausted, plopped down on his bottom, hard. It was over. But then he glanced across at the pale face slumbering restlessly next to him and sighed, No, it wasn't, and started looking for the next clover. What were the odds of them finding three four-leaf clovers in one night and in one field?
He prayed for Sam's sake, and his own, that they weren't any worse than before because, to tell the truth, Bobby wasn't eager to face the wrath of Dean when the other man found out about Sam's newest ailment… After all Bobby was supposed to keep Sam safe. Not make him mute.
Dean couldn't figure out why Bobby and Sam just didn't meet him back at the motel. It would have made more sense but when he tried pressing the issued, the older hunter brushed him off and repeated directions for where Dean could find them.
It wasn't like Bobby to be so reticent but Dean, feeling hung over from his concussion and relived that the older man had helped fix this mess, couldn't exactly find it in himself to give the him any grief. Besides he just wanted to see for himself that Sam was okay.
But as Dean pulled up behind the tow truck angled towards a vast field and could just make out Bobby, or rather Bobby's backside as the older man stooped over, he started to get a very bad feeling about this.
Immediately his eyes sought out his brother and exhaled in relief when he made out the long lanky form sprawled out in the field. Bobby had told him Sam was out for the count, and a part of Dean was relieved that, other than the fact it looked like Bobby was still flower picking – and what was up with that – nothing else seemed amiss.
Leaving the windows down, Dean got out of his car and hurried towards the duo.
Bobby straightened up and arched his back painfully to stretch out the apparent stiffness.
"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted as he crouched down next to his brother. His eyes appraised every bump, bruise and swollen part even as he continued addressing the older man. "Mind me asking why we're here?"
"Well, see," Bobby seemed unusually hesitant and Dean's concern rose. "It's like this -" The old man shifted slightly and seemed to have great trouble meeting Dean's eyes and then he just blurted out. "Sam was yammering on and on and I was just ready to kill'em when I said I wished he'd just shut up and, ha, ha, what do you know, I was holding a four leaf clover and now Sam's mute but you're safe and he isn't freaking out any more so I think we're good. We just have to find another four-leaf clover. Piece of cake, right?"
Dean blinked and took a moment to digest what Bobby was saying. He shook his head and frowned. "Huh?"
Bobby huffed in exasperation and then summarized. "I wished Sam mute. Now stop gaping at me and help me find another damn clover!"
The younger man stared at Bobby as his words finally sunk in. He glanced back down at his brother and sighed. Scrubbing a hand across his face he just shook his head. "This just keeps getting better."
"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "You're telling me." He paused and then added contritely, "I'm sorry, Dean."
"Not me you need to be apologizing to…" Dean slowly stood up and sighed loudly, easily imagining how upsetting this must be to Sam and hoping his brother didn't wake up until they were able to fix him. "Okay then. Let's get this done."
With a curt nod, Bobby passed Dean a small flashlight and the two men started picking flowers. In respect for the sleeper, they worked in silence and when the morning first rays warmed their faces, Dean stood up, triumphant. And this time, when he made his wish, his brother was forefront in his mind.
Sam slowly opened his eyes and then startled as Dean's grinning face hovered just above his own. A bloody gash marred his brother's temple. "Dean?" he rasped as he reached out to touch the injury but his hand was gently slapped away as Dean's grin grew. "What the hell?"
"Hey, Sammy," Dean sounded way to chipper. Probably concussed then. "How you feeling?"
"I feel," Sam frowned. "…fine?" And he did. Other then being a bit chilled from lying on the ground, he felt okay. Puzzled, Sam slowly lifted his injured arm; no aches, no pains. Nothing. His arm looked fine. His body felt fine. He really was fine. Confused, he stared at his brother. "Dean?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow, winced and then held out his hand. Sam hesitated briefly and then let his brother slowly pull him to his feet. "Would you believe? I finally got my wish…"
And he did. He got his little brother back, just the way Sam was two days ago.
Sam found his brother outside their motel room. Dean was standing in front of his car, his arms crossed, his lips pursed in a frown and a hard look on his face. The younger hunter sighed. This had to stop.
Since Bobby had left almost a day ago, Dean would periodically disappear and Sam always found him in the same place, glaring at his car. And it just wasn't right, for either of them.
Moving to stand beside his brother, Sam mirrored his pose. After a moment, Dean growled, "Knock it off."
"Knock what off?" Sam feigned innocence.
"You know what." Dean sounded genuinely angry so Sam dropped the act.
"Let it go, dude. Your car didn't do anything wrong."
Dean gave him a 'you've got to be kidding me look' and snorted. "I dunno, Sam. Tried to kill you, tried to kill me, that's kinda 'wrong' in my books."
"It wasn't the car, Dean," Sam countered, "it was the spell, curse, wish, whatever you want to call it. But it wasn't your car," he paused unable to believe he was actually going to say this, but his brother needed to hear it. "I know your baby would never do anything to hurt me."
Dean appeared to consider what he was saying for a moment and then sighed heavily and turned to Sam. "Then it was my fault. I never should have made that wish. I just got so caught up in thinking how cool it would be that I sorta forgot something important…" Sam waited but when his brother didn't continue, he prompted,
"You forgot something important?"
"Yeah," Dean turned away, his eyes suddenly looking everywhere else than Sam. "It's our car. I know Dad left it to me… but its as much yours as mine and I didn't even think about that when I made that stupid wish." He rubbed tiredly at his face and finally looked back at Sam. "Man, I am so sorry, Sammy. I-"
Sam cut him off, uncomfortable with his brother's guilt. He knew Dean felt bad and had known his brother would the moment KATT turned against him. Dean would never do anything on purpose to hurt Sam, his brother just didn't have it in him. Not where Sam was concerned. "Dean. It's okay, man… I know."
Looking like he'd swallowed something bad, Dean nodded anyway and went back to looking at his car. At least he wasn't glaring this time. His jaw twitched, he slewed a glance at Sam and then asked, "You sure you're okay?"
The younger man fought to keep the fond smile from his face. He was loved… "Only if you'll let me drive your car…" and returned it, ten-fold.
Dean scowled even as the remaining rigidness bled from his body. "I asked if you were all right – I don't remember anything about you being on your death bed!"
Sam did smile this time, and Dean smacked him lightly on the arm.
He didn't even miss a beat. "Jerk."
Things were back to normal. And God, it felt good.
Just Sam, Dean, their car…
And a trunk load of weapons.
Yep, absolutely freakin' Winchester normal.
Until Dean absently wondered if leprechauns really did have pots of gold.
Author's note. I did like the season ender right up to Dean actually going to hell... That I did not like and it has cast a very dark and bleak shadow over the show for me at this time, and so I need to take a break from writing for a bit.
I had been finding Season three depressing as it was (which is why, except for a couple of references, I tried to avoid the whole Deal thing) and now I am just depressed about the whole thing...
Anyways I wanted to say thank you to every one who has been reading and reviewing my stories, and I do hope that I will find some hope in the series again. In the past I had turned to fan fic to comfort, but I gotta admit, its getting harder to find it there as well. I am just tired of Sam angst/hurt Dean. I want Dean angst/hurt Sam. Wonder if that still makes me a Sammy-girl?
Take care. Love Phx