The boys Deal with a witch's curse - again … Dean comes off worst - again … are you in any way surprised?

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my addled mind!


Sam awoke to the sounds of yawning from the bed next to him, he rolled over and glanced across to see the sprawled lump in the bed beside him sway to his feet and stagger across to the bathroom.

"Make the coffee. bitch!" it mumbled as it made it's way.

Sam sighed; he rolled onto his back, and yawned, enjoying a mighty stretch as he did. He decided to make an attempt at getting vertical when he heard the shower start up.

He got vertical very quickly when he heard the scream …


Sam leaped out of bed and smashed his way through the bathroom door with his shoulder to find his brother standing wide eyed and bewildered in the middle of the steamy room, arms wrapped protectively across his bare chest, silently mouthing words which Sam couldn't make out.

He stepped across to his brother and placed his hands on the hunched trembling shoulders. Dean's face looked grey with shock. "S-s-sam" he muttered incoherently, "O-o-h my God!"

"Dude?" Sam stared at his brother, "what's wrong man?"

Dean shook his head slowly, still hugging himself protectively.

"The witch …" he whispered, "the freakin', fugly, hell-bitch … " he tailed off. He looked up at Sam with huge frightened eyes.

"What?" asked Sam, still clutching his brother's trembling shoulders, looking directly into the glassy green eyes, "hey, what's wrong Dude? Why are you hugging yourself?"

Dean shook his head slowly, still trembling violently.

Sam gently took hold of his brothers' elbows, "I'm going to move your arms, OK Dude?" he reassured softly.

The grip of the arms tightened, and the head shaking accelerated.

"C'mon dude? Are you hurt?" Sam's voice took on a sense of urgency, "Let me help."

Dean shook his head violently and tried to back away.

Sam held him tight. "Dean!" he snapped, and grasping Dean's elbows, pulled his arms away from his chest.


Sam's mouth dropped open.

"oh. my. God."

Dean looked up at Sam sheepishly.

"friggin' witch" he said in a small voice.


Sam's experience was relatively limited (compared to Dean's at least), but in his opinion, they were about a double D cup, and really very firm and pert; a pair any woman would have been proud of. Under any other circumstances, Sam would have feasted his eyes. However, after a long and embarrassed silence, he spoke. "How did this happen?"

Dean had bashfully covered himself up with his folded arms again. "that witch we ganked yesterday …" he mumbled miserably.

Sam stared at him, "and …?"

Dean's head bowed, "erm … I might have said something …" he muttered, barely above a whisper.

"What? What did you say?" asked Sam suspiciously.

Dean looked up guiltily. "Um, I think I said something about her having a decent pair of hooters - for a witch"

Sam slapped his palm against his forehead …