Sam bit his lip as the peanut hit him in the head and landed on his laptop. He picked it up, sighing, adding it to the pile on the table. He continued searching for the next hunt even though he had been through all the news stories posted for the last three days. Outside, a chilly rain beat against the motel. As far as he knew, they were the only people staying in this dismal little place. He decided to check the weather patterns again, maybe an elemental demon…a thunk against his head. Another peanut. Sam closed his eyes, counting to ten. Again. Ok, twenty.

"Dean, why don't you call the garage again? The sign said they were open late. See if the car's ready."

The aggrieved sigh from his brother gave Sam no hope for this cold, dreary late evening. He was doomed. Stuck in Podunk, Nowhere with his completely and totally bored, channel flipping, over caffeinated older brother. Dean, who was going insane and taking Sam with him. There was only ONE tiny bar (closed today), one even smaller restaurant, yet for some odd reason there was a state of the art auto shop. The Impala was currently residing there as they waited for parts to come from Bobby's yard and a couple of other places. They'd been here three days. It seemed like three weeks to Sam. There was nowhere to go to escape Dean. For the last six hours he had ignored the coffee cup juggling, the paper airplanes war and the cartoon tune a thon.

Then the peanuts started flying.

Sam was beginning to consider either ritual suicide or murder.

He stopped, looking at the current internet newspaper. A new article. Wait, this could be it. Three mysterious deaths, all in the last month, all found with their…whap, ping, thwap. Three peanuts, not out of the shells and hurled at a deadly force.

"OW! Son of a… that's IT!!"


Dean struggled as he lay on the bed. He was spread-eagled, unable to move and pissed. He tried for a reasonable tone.


The tapping of the keys on the laptop was his only answer.

"Ok, I get the point, you and your ginormous brain with your special powers. You're a master, a warrior." Dean grunted as he tried shifting side to side to get free. "What's the matter, Sam? Afraid you can't fight me fairly without your "telekinesis"?" Dean strained against the invisible force holding him, and then fell back, panting.

"This isn't fair. Fighting family with super powers is cheating, Sam."

He tried again, pushing with all his strength. Nothing.

"NOW COME ON, let me up! This isn't funny," he whined. Still nothing.

"Cheater," he then growled petulantly.

At that the tapping stopped. 'Finally,' Dean thought smugly. He had another bag of peanuts hidden under his mattress. Sam was so going to…What the? Dean was barely able to raise his head and look down towards his shoes. He frowned. His boots laces were untying themselves. Un-tying themselves. Dean narrowed his eyes, barely able to glance over at Sam who was still sitting at the table. Sam, the little shit who was still typing and smirking at the same time. Dean started as he felt his boots come off his feet. His heart suddenly leapt into his throat.

"Sam, what the hell?" Suddenly, a fear that Dean hadn't felt for years started to knock at the back of his mind, a memory of mad little Sammy after Dean had picked on him one time too many. Only, Sam wasn't little anymore. Dean stared back down at his feet as he watched his socks come off next. One then the other, pulled off by an invisible force.

"Uh, bro? Sammy?" he whispered. He could see the evil smile on Sam's face across the room. Then

"NO! NO! Stop!"

Dean's yell turned to laughter as a feeling of ghostly fingers suddenly trailed down his bare feet. He struggled, but was unable to move away. He tried moving his feet, tried twisting them around, but he couldn't escape. Feather light touches between his toes and the maddening feeling of fingers dancing along his soles, he was helpless against it. He bit his lip, refusing to give in. He struggled to hold back the laughter, struggling to hold his breath; only to lose to the laughter again as the tickling grew worse. Dean laughed even harder, fighting to escape with no success.

Suddenly the tickling stopped. Dean sagged back against the mattress, struggling to catch his breath, a few stray chuckles escaping. Breath still a little ragged, Dean cleared his throat, muttering under his breath. He glared at the ceiling, then over at Sam. The little shit was still sitting at the table, but now Dean could see him shaking with silent laughter.

"Okay, I get it, you've made your point," Dean narrowed his eyes. "I see that you can't fight fair." Dean tried moving, shifting off the bed. "I am so kicking your ass, bitch. Now LET ME UP. "

Sam slowly turned his head towards him, raising his eyebrows as he stared back. Dean gave Sam his best BIG BROTHER glare.

"I mean it, Sam. Now!"

Sam smiled.

Dean jerked as he felt a poke in his side. His eyes widened.

"You wouldn't dare…"

Immediately his ribs stomach and under arms came under attack. Dean's screams of laughter echoed off the walls as the tickling sensation crawled down his lean frame, hitting all the most sensitive spots along his ribs, and then trailing down to his stomach and back to his feet. He was lost. Howling with laughter, squirming as tears ran down his face, he was totally defenseless against the only man alive who knew his weakest points, who would live to take advantage of them, his little brother.

"Sam, Sammy, no...No more, please," Dean's voice trailed off into laughter again.

The overwhelming feeling of tickling fingers gliding down his sides and along his feet was just too much. He couldn't fight it. He laughed even harder as the tickling intensified along his overly sensitive ribs He could hear Sam snickering in the background. Dean couldn't help it, he couldn't stand it anymore. He gave in.

"Please! Uncle, uncle, you win," Dean's words stuttered around his laughter.

Just as suddenly, the sensations stopped and he could move again. He slumped back against the mattress, still laughing as the tickling feeling slowly began to fade. Dean lay still, trying to catch his breath. He was totally exhausted, his whole body turned to jello. He rubbed his arms over his sides, trying to chase the residual feelings away. He started to get up, only to hear the crackle of cellophane from the side of the bed. He reached down and pulled the other bag of peanuts out. Dean noticed the utter and complete silence in the room immediately. He twisted his mouth to the side, sighing and then got up, placing the peanuts in the trash can near the door.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in, he headed into the bathroom to change. Five minutes later, he came out, dropped his clothes on the floor and sat on the bed. His eyes were already closing. He lay back down on the bed, but only after a sneaking glance to make sure Sam was still typing and ignoring him.

"I still say that's not fair." He muttered, very quietly under his breath.

He yawned. The lamp on his side of the room went out. The blankets rolled up from the end of the bed and over him. Dean rolled his eyes, turning over onto his stomach. He snuggled into the protection of the blanket.

"The things we fight don't fight fair."

Dean snorted. He chased a last giggle away with another yawn and a surreptitious glare at his little brother. Ten seconds later he was sound asleep. A peaceful silence finally reigned, broken only by the happy tapping on the laptop.