Always with the Witches

Rated T [graphic descriptions]

Summary: After Sam and Dean wipe out a coven in Bristol, Kansas, some strange and disturbing things begin to happen to Dean. With the coven burned, Sam and Castiel struggle find out how and why this is happening, and more importantly, how to make it stop…

*~.~*

Day One

It was a Thursday in the middle of May. The Winchester brothers had finished up a hunt in Bristol, a little over six hours from home, and decided to stop for grub before heading back to the bunker. Sam's hair was still a little damp from the shower he took at the motel right before they'd checked out.

Their waitress, a dirty-blond woman looking in her early thirties, overheard them discussing something about having 'gotten rid of the Bristol coven' right outside of town, even though they were talking with rather hushed voices. It made her pause for a moment, but she shook her head as if to clear it, then made her way into their line of sight. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Dean told her, a flirty smile playing on his face. "I'll have the chicken-fried steak and a double order of mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh! And a chocolate shake. Large."

Sam made a face at his brother's selection before turning to the waitress. "I'll just have the grilled chicken salad, please," he said with a friendly smile.

She smiled back at him. "You want another beer?"

"Uh…sure, yeah. Thanks." They waited for her to head away before they resumed their conversation. "You should've gotten coffee."

"Dude, I'll get coffee when we gas up."

"Well you're gonna need something to recover from the inevitable sugar crash."

"Damnit. I think I got some gasoline on my boots. It stinks." He stuck his leg out to see if he could locate the source of the offense.

"Yeah, about that," Sam said. "You really think it was a good idea to burn the whole place down?"

"It was secluded, Sam. No other houses around for at least a mile. It was that or waste time building pyres to accommodate eight friggin' bitches." A crash came from behind the bar, and they both glanced over to see that their waitress had broken something glass that had tumbled to the floor. She quickly turned away from them and grabbed a broom. Sam and Dean turned back to each other. "Anyway, that place is probably already dust by now. All that old, musty barn wood barely keeping it standing in the first place. They were probably keeping it standing with some spell…"

*~.~*

Day Two

It was 9 a.m. before Sam rolled out of bed the next day. It'd been a long drive with Dean talking a mile a minute about how great the shake he'd had last night was and how he'd wished he'd gotten another to go. Sam splashed some water over his face and dried it, then caught a whiff of breakfast being cooked. He made his way toward the kitchen.

"Mornin', Sammy!" Dean said cheerfully as he plated a third pancake on a triple-stack. There was another plate beside it complete with equal portions of eggs and bacon. "I made us grand-slams. I know it's missing the toast, but that's because we're outta bread."

"Maybe because you made us Dagwoods for lunch Monday," Sam commented, a brow raised in amusement. "What's with the carb-fest lately?" he asked as he dropped onto a stool at the island.

"Carb-fest? What're you Dr. Atkins? I'm just trying to recreate the classics here."

"The grand-slam has two pancakes, not three," he said, ignoring Dean's comment.

"I'm making up for the missing toast. Now shut up and be grateful for this amazing bounty."

"Shouldn't there be orange juice?"

Dean, who had been rounding the island to take his seat beside Sam, stopped and glared at his younger brother. "There's coffee," he said, pointing it out where it sat beside the plate. "You want OJ too? Fine." He turned and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a glass from the counter on the way. "Always were a particular little bitch."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"We really shouldn't eat like this so much. It's not healthy."

"Dude, we burn all this off and then some. We need to eat like this." He quickly filled the glass and closed the fridge door. He took a step back toward the island but stopped suddenly when he felt something burst in his chest; something white hot and so fast, he wasn't sure it had been real.

"The pancakes are good, though," Sam said around a mouthful of the confection. "Musta been a short-order cook in a past life."

"Sam..." Dean could feel pressure begin to build behind his ribs.

"Okay, maybe a chef," Sam amended. Then he heard a glass hitting the floor and shattering and he quickly turned to look. That's when he realized that Dean was standing near the fridge still, his posture and expression strangely unreadable. "Dean?"

"Somethin' ain't right, Sammy," Dean said, his voice shaky with pain or fear, Sam wasn't sure. Then Dean's eyes were widening, and he was gasping for breath, his knees shaking beneath him before they gave out completely and he was on his knees on the floor.

"Dean!" Sam was out of his seat before his brother could fall over head-first. He skidded to his own knees in front of him, reaching out to catch Dean's upper body as it fell forward. "Dean, what's happening?" he asked fearfully as he searched Dean with his hands.

"I…I dunno. I can't breathe. Sammy, it hurts…"

"What hurts?"

Dean couldn't reply as his breath seemed to squeeze out of him completely. He clutched at his chest with one hand as his other gripped the front of Sam's shirt with the other, panicked. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dean, hey!" Sam felt his own chest begin to tighten in fear as he laid Dean down on his back to get a better view of what might be going on. "Oh god…" His eyes stung at the sight of his brother. Dean's skin was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, his face and neck red with strain as he tried to breathe.

His own breath now lost, Sam instinctively reached his fingers to Dean's neck, checking Dean's heartbeat. He could barely feel it, and that fact terrified him. "No… This is… This can't be…" He dug into the pocket of his jeans to grab his phone. His hand shook as it hovered over the screen. His eyes focused back on Dean's face to see his brother's eyes roll back into his head, his body spasming in its attempt to get air. "Nonononono, Dean! Dean, stay with me!" He pressed a hand to Dean's chest and tried to shake him back into consciousness. Fear and desperation brought Castiel into his mind, so he called out for him, hoping with everything in him that the angel would hear.

"Sam?" the angel's voice sounded beside him.

"Cas!" Relief hit Sam like a punch, though fear was still burning in his chest. "Something's wrong with Dean!"

"I thought I could sense his distress," Castiel said as he crouched down beside the older brother and reached out a hand to hover over Dean's body. His face pinched. "It's his heart…"

"I know! I couldn't find a pulse! You need to fix him!"

Cas's palm touched down on Dean's too-still chest and Sam's gaze went back and forth between his brother's face and the angel's as nothing happened. "Cas?"

"I…can't fix this," he replied. "Something is very strange…"

"What? What do you mean you can't fix him?" Sam nearly screamed at him as he looked at Dean's lifeless body. He looked back to Castiel's face which was painted in confusion, the image becoming hazy as tears stung at Sam's eyes…

TBC…