Dean winced as his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. His head pounded worse than the time he'd gotten wasted on tequila with that rancher's daughter south of Albuquerque.

The pain was so great the room looked red.

"Ugh, I feel like I've been hit with a freight train."

"Good morning, sunshine."

Dean frowned and lifted his head. "Damn." The room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. There were clothes strewn across the floor, the bureau, and table. Drawers were open and shut, the lamp shade slightly tilted, and the TV had seen better days. Sam stood in the center of it all.

"Have a party last night without me?"

"If only. How are you feeling?"

Dean swallowed. The light stung his eyes, and he could still hear fragments of the quarrel going on next door.

He collapsed back into bed. "Super."

"It'll take some time to sweat out the dead man's blood."

"Awesome."

"You did pump the whole syringe into yourself. Dumb move, by the way."

"Saved your sorry ass. You'd have been dinner and dessert."

"You wouldn't have killed me."

Sam said it so matter-of-fact, but Dean had been so close he could almost taste his blood. The craving was still there, lurking under the surface, even if it wasn't as urgent as before. Dean would give anything to come off that high.

He covered his face and let out a heavy sigh. "What happened after I blacked out?"

"I killed Linus and destroyed the amulet." Sam paused. "And I gave you this."

Dean lifted his head again. Sam was holding up a small vial filled with blue stuff.

"You poisoned me?"

"You poisoned you. This is the cure."

Yeah, Dean wasn't buying that. "Your heart is pumping like a well-oiled machine. That's no cure."

"It'll take some time to kick in. I think the dead man's blood is slowing it down," Sam said. "It will make any of the vampire virus active in your system permanently dormant."

"Permanently?"

"So I'm told."

Dean didn't like that answer. "What if you were told wrong?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"That's not good enough for me, Sammy."

"It's going to have to be."

The two glared at each other.

Feeling too tired to fight, Dean flopped back down and sighed. "Where'd you get it?"

"Same person who made this mess in the first place." He glanced at the table.

Dean turned to the table beside Sam. Next to his laptop, there was a large plastic bag with two sprigs neatly wrapped inside. Dean didn't have a clue what herbs or plants they were, but he knew it was bad news. The wrappings had all the markings of magic, and some heavy stuff at that. Ruby level crap.

And since there was no more Ruby…

Lenore. It had to be. Man, that chick had some serious nerve.

"Bitch set me up."

"I found one in the Impala and the other under your pillow. They must have triggered the virus in your bloodstream."

"Magic? Seriously, we're talking magic?"

Sam nodded. "And before you say anything, the cure's legit. Just trust me on it."

"You're taking recipes from Vampy Crocker and I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

"Yup."

Hunter recipes were one thing. Magic brews from Sam's secret stash were something else altogether. "Come on, Sam."

"It'll work."

"Why? For all we know this could make me howl at the moon."

"Because I told her if she didn't set things right, I'd come wipe out her family personally." He smiled.

Dean shivered. He wasn't sure if it was the poison or the fact that when Sam smiled liked that, he looked like his soulless doppelganger. Sam trusting vamps and feeling bad for them one minute, and off threatening them the next. Dean needed Sam to stop being a yo-yo.

Though when he studied Sam, he saw none of the deadness, the cool detachment that had been the core of the other thing posing as his brother. He didn't want to tell Sam, but even now he was having a hard time getting used to Sam's soul being back, of trusting it to be real. He got his brother back. He didn't want it to be some sick, cosmic joke.

Sitting there, hearing the loyalty and sense of justice in Sam's voice, and seeing the determination in his face, helped ease some of that pain. His brother got his soul back. Dean wasn't about to let him crash because of hellish mess trapped in his head. And he was never letting that other soulless thing return.

First step out of this joint was to delete those files on Sam's laptop. For now…he didn't have a clue what to do next. Dean hated feeling off-balance.

He reached into his mouth and scraped at the tip of one of his fangs. It felt loose.

"Don't pick at it."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Just rest and let it work through your system."

"Like hell."

"Or you can clean this mess."

Dean just groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his arm.

As he lay there, he listened to the world around him. Someone was making some coffee. There was the snap of a bra-nice-and a kid crying over burnt toast. He could hear the trickle of water as it missed the clogged gutter and a mouse gnawing on some of the wiring in the wall. Sam remained the constant. His heartbeat was faster than it should be, but steady as he worked on straightening the motel room. Dean didn't feel anything for it either way.

He nodded off some time after that as he listened to Sam's heart. As the minutes ticked by, it had become fainter and fainter until he could barely hear it at all. By the time he woke, there was blissful silence all around him.

Slowly, Dean sat up. The room dipped, but after a few blinks and deep breaths, the furniture and walls righted themselves. He picked at the damp clothes that stuck to his skin. The bed smelled like mud, grass, sweat, and blood. Dean took a whiff at his armpit.

"Man, that's ripe."

Sam looked up from his computer. "Tell me about it. You stink." Once Dean had managed to stand on shaky legs, Sam shut the computer's top and leaned back. "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap, but human." Dean grimaced, reached into his mouth, and pulled out a stray fang. Gross. He made a face and threw it across the room. "We should probably hit the road."

"Yeah, after you shower. I'm not staying trapped in a car with you when you smell like gym socks. I'll pack up our stuff."

"But you'll stay in a car with a vampire. Unbelievable."

"I have standards."

Dean shook his head. He was glad Sam was back, but, man, his brother was strange.

He realized he'd take strange any day.

"Vampires messing with magic?" Dean whistled. "Things just get better and better." He grabbed some clothes and headed toward the bathroom.

"No more rules," Sam said. "Makes you wonder what else will happen."

Dean didn't want to think about it.

Not even twenty minutes later, the two of them were on the road out of Brownsville and heading to Bobby's. Though Dean knew he was well enough to drive, Sam insisted on taking the wheel again. Dean was starting to think he was finding excuses on purpose.

But at least they were together and that was all that mattered.

They didn't say anything for the next couple of hours. Dean rolled the window down and let the cool breeze filter into the Impala. It was just him, Sam, and good music on the open road. For those couple of hours, they didn't feel like hunters or freaks. Just two brothers hitting the road, as normal as apple pie or any other schmuck on the planet.

And it tasted good.