Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters. I play with them. Very very gently. And...well sometimes not very gently at all.

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"Sammy?" Dean cautiously took a step forward into the room, hands held up somewhat in front of him to show him he was safe; like approaching a frightened animal.

Sam cowered back against the wall, fear etched onto his face as he took quick, panicked breaths. "Leave me alone," he pleaded in a small voice. "Please...please leave me alone..."

"Sammy, it's just me," Dean assured him. "You know I wouldn't hurt you..." his heart was hammering in his chest at the sight of his brother reacting this way.

"Guh! No!" he recoiled, bending over as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"Sam!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please stop! Gah!" he dropped to his knees, hard, wrapping protective arms around himself.

"Jesus...what the hell?" Dean crossed the room toward him, reaching out to grab hold of him, pull him away from whatever was causing him this obvious pain. There was no ghost in here, or they'd feel it in the air, the cold, sudden drop in temperature and their breath becoming visible. None of that happened. So what the hell what going on?

"No no no, please no!" Sam scrambled away, eyes wide with fear and wet with tears that were now streaming down his face.

"Sam, what the hell is happening? Talk to me!" Dean stood there, helplessly, as Sam started to writhe on his back on the floor, like he was being held down.

"Help!" he yelled out. "Help me, please! Somebody please!" and then his voice cut short like someone had his neck in a vice.

"Curse," Dean thought, eyes shifting wildly in thought. "It's gotta be a freaking curse. Hex bag!" he started searching the room, shoving things over and tearing his knife through the old, decrepit mattress that lay on its rusting iron frame, as Sam's struggled screams reignited. "Damn it! Where the hell is it?" he shouted, fear for his brother's cries fueling his anger.

He pushed off of the bed and threw his hands under the frame, flipped the entire thing over with a grunt, scanning the floor beneath it with his eyes. Then, overhead, a humming, buzzing sound started, and he looked up at the light bulb that hung from the ceiling as it began to glow more powerfully. Then it snapped and blew out.

Sam's screams stopped.

Dean's eyes went to him and he dropped to his knees beside him on the floor. "Sammy?" his hands hovered over his still body, gratefully seeing the rise and fall of his chest before looking up at his face. "Sam?"

Sam was staring up at the ceiling; at nothing. His face was slack, void of emotion, and Dean's heart clenched in his chest as he watched tears slip down the sides of Sam's face and into his hair...

TBC