Sam: "It's good to see you smile."
Dean: "Well, I said I needed a big win. We got Cas back.
That's a pretty damn big win." 13x06
In silence the two hunters returned to Dorothy's house, the Impala was still standing there. Dean didn't feel like talking. He couldn't claim that the events of the past few hours had passed him by without leaving an impact. Indefatigable he stared straight ahead, trying not to think of anything. On the one hand he was grateful that Sam gave him time, on the other hand he didn't want anyone to show him consideration. Because that's how it went, and you carried on.
The night was drawing to a close and the city slowly began to awaken. Already, a fine silver line was growing stronger on the horizon. As early as possible they wanted to check out of their motel room, so that they could quickly make their way back to the bunker, and find out what they were dealing with the spell. They had been in this goddamn place long enough.
They were just about to get into the car, away from the ivy-overgrown little house, away from the remote district, away from Salem, as Sam asked: "Are you going to call him or should I?"
"Why?" Dean had paused in his movement and now looked over blankly.
"He'll want to know what happened. You would, too", the taller one replied with a telling look.
"Sam, it's nothing." Impatiently, he twiddled the car key between his fingers. He finally wanted to go home and into his own bed, maybe a cold beer first and afterwards a nice cup of hot coffee. When had he become so domestic? Perhaps he also was happy to see again the one they had left behind.
"All victims died the morning after a new moon night. It may take days, even weeks, before the symptoms will set in with you." They still didn't know what the runes meant. They had not the slightest idea how the curse worked, with which the clergy and now Dean had been burdened. What lay ahead of them? What did they have to expect?
Dean just snorted and left Sam's speculations uncommented. He didn't want to think about that now. He just didn't want to think at all. He wanted to sense the familiar feeling of the steering wheel in his hands, the road below him, the world flying by. Safe from everything out there and from everything inside of him.
"So, are you going to call him or should I?", Sam asked once again.
"That's nonsense. Why should he worry unnecessarily?", Dean tried disgruntledly to cover up his own insecurity. In front of his little brother he wasn't allowed to be weak. He wasn't allowed to be weak at all.
"Unnecessarily?!" With the best will in the world, the whole thing was not to be taken lightly! But the younger one knew that if his brother switched to stubborn it wouldn't get anywhere.
"And besides, it's five o'clock in the morning!", Dean interjected.
"He doesn't sleep", Sam countered.
The blonde rolled his eyes. What a smart aleck! He was running out of arguments, so he enfolded himself in silence. Noisily he got into the car, put the key in the ignition, and started the engine.
Sam joined him in the passenger seat. "Well, up to you, I'll call him." Already, he took out his cell phone and dialed the number. Dean snorted indignantly, but the younger one deliberately ignored his disapproval.
"Hey Cas. ... Yes, the case in Massachusetts, accumulated inexplicable deaths in the monasteries near Salem. As it turned out, a very old, vengeful witch was responsible, whose mother had been executed in the witch trials."
"Since the witch acted not exactly subtle, she was quickly tracked down and rendered innocuous", Dean shouted in between, as if he was proud to announce that they had been victorious.
The taller one thereupon just shook his head uncomprehendingly and added: "But Dean got between the fronts and was hit by a spell", a pause resulted, "No, he's fine so far. ... Yes, we are on our way. ... See you then."
Without having seen or heard him, Dean perceived that his brother's interlocutor was worried. Worried about him. Although he would never have admitted it to himself, this fact moved him against his will in a way that left a warm feeling in his chest.
A 25 hour drive and a few burger stops later, they finally passed the large sign welcoming them to Kansas. Well-known streets, familiar surroundings, home. In front of the bunker they already saw their friend in a trench coat standing, he must have been waiting for them. A wide smile flitted across Dean's face as he beheld him.
"Nice to see you again", he greeted the Winchesters and gave the older one a worried look.
"Can you do something with it?" Straightway Sam showed the angel on his mobile phone a photo of the symbols Dorothy Good had provided the wood paneling with.
Castiel drew his eyebrows together and tilted his head. "I don't think she was a witch in the classic sense", he noted.
The runes on the wall had been quickly deciphered with the help of Castiel and the seemingly endless records of the Men of Letters. Very old magic, traced back to a distant druid lineage from Brittany, which dated back to the time of the Roman occupation. Usually peace-loving and known for their healing arts, their connection to nature, and their ability to communicate with animals to a limited extent.
But the runes weren't the problem, the spell however was. It was complicated, twisted, and distorted. A mixture of many things. None of that of a comforting nature. Ominous.
"I now know why they died", Sam muttered absentmindedly.
"Let me guess, they have been cursed by a witch", the older Winchester replied sarcastically, rubbing his tense neck. The last few hours they had spent hunched over a never-ending pile of books. Blindly he reached for his cup and burned himself on the hot liquid. How many coffee was that by now? He had stopped counting. Maybe he should administer himself the tipple intravenously or switch to beer.
With narrowed eyes Castiel watched the spectacle, then stood up, stepped behind Dean and carefully, hesitantly, questioningly placed his hands on the shoulders of that human. The blonde man was surprised. Cas had never done that before. It was unaccustomed, this closeness. At first he wanted to shake off this hands, but they felt good. Groping they stroked along his aching muscle strands. Probably the angel could have just healed him, but this way it was kind of... more intimate? No, wrong word, completely wrong word. Personal. It was more personal.
Sam didn't know where to look. This familiarity wasn't new, but it had never been physical. He got the impression the two of them shared something that he had no access to. It was as if he was disturbing something private. Or maybe the angel was simply trying to behave more humanly. Maybe that was merely Castiel's attempt to demonstrate to Dean that he had missed him too.
Sam cleared his throat audibly. "So... um, yes... The spell killed the men, but they died because of their beliefs." At the questioning look of his brother, he added: "Celibacy, Dean."
He could practically hear the younger man's eyes rolling. Feignedly politely he asked: "Would you have the kindness of heart to explain your conclusions to me?" One always had to worm everything out of him!
"You've been put under a nymphic curse, Dean. That means you have to sleep with someone at every new moon, otherwise you'll die", Sam reported on his research with a serious expression.
Castiel sat down again and took the leather-bound book. "Technically speaking, it says here that the person affected must reach the climax during coitus while his, her or thier phallus is in another person or the phallus of another person is in him, her or them." He pointed at the parchment page: "An old Celtic dialect."
"Thank you for the clarification talk. You can't hear that about the bee and the flower often enough", Dean replied with a laugh. He remembered all too well how he had to have said conversation with Sam that time. One of the most embarrassing moments of his life. Quickly he dismissed the thought of it again. "How do you lift it?"
Sam looked at Castiel, but he only shook his head apologeticly. They had already taken every option into consideration. None of them would have been promising.
"Not at all. The curse is irreversible. I'm sorry, Dean", the younger Winchester answered with a sigh.
"Why is it always you who get caught between the fronts?! As if you were going for it!", Castiel got exasperated, "Imagine, there are people who care about your life, even if that cannot be claimed of yourself!"
An oppressive pause arose. Then the angel said, quieter now: "I should have accompanied you..."
"It was a common case. You couldn't have known that", Sam tried to calm him down.
"Why are you so upset? Well, having sex once a month should hardly be a problem for me", Dean opined lightly with a cheeky grin on his lips.
"That's one deep dark, nothing you got there, Dean.
Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.
You can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself,
but not to me. I can see how broken you are, how defeated.
You're not hungry, Dean, because inside you're already dead."
Famine to Dean 5x14
