"Monkey Paw"

[kellifer]

This was languishing on the hard drive for ages... *almost finished*. It seemed appropriately halloween-y so I got off my ass and got it done.

Title: Monkey Paw
Rating/Warning: PG (for language)
Wordcount: 2,750
Spoilers: None.
Fandom: SPN
By: kellifer_fic
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Summary: There was this whole memo about being careful and wishing that Dean Winchester apparently missed.

The thing Dean loved most about sorcerers was that it was part of their job to go through a sorcerer’s stuff when they’d taken one out. Before the magic scavengers or worse the police decided to go through the place it had to be cleaned out of anything too dangerous.

Sorcerers, more often than not, had some pretty fun stuff.

Dean was juggling three shrunken heads when Sam poked his face through the door of what had once been a study and grimaced. “Can you stop… playing with stuff?” he demanded. Dean caught the three heads deftly and tossed them into the corner, tipping Sam a smirk.

“I thought shrunken heads were more witchdoctor than sorcerer,” he commented, picking up a jar that had a foetal something in it that he wasn’t too keen on identifying.

“Who gives a crap? I just want to get out of here. It smells like death and eggs.”

“I noticed that too,” Dean said, nodding. “I mean, the death thing I get but eggs?” Dean noticed Sam had an armload of books and raised an eyebrow.

“Are we classing those as dangerous or are you just pilfering them?”

Sam flushed, cutting his eyes away and shuffling his feet. “They could be dangerous. I have to… study them further to find out.”

“Geek,” Dean snorted, at a loss as to why Sam would pick up books when there were things in jars, shrunken things and oh, shiny things Dean noted, picking up a gold amulet that was on a side table.

“Dangerous, remember?” Sam prodded and Dean waved a dismissive hand.

“You said it yourself, we won’t know until we have a chance to study it further.”

“Whatever. Let’s just finish up okay?”

Dean watched Sam disappear out of the room and pocketed the amulet without even thinking about it.

000

“I hate when people write in books,” Sam grumped. He had the late sorcerer’s books spread out over the motel table with one short leg and was thumbing through four at once, their father’s journal spread over his lap like some kind of reference guide. “I don’t think this guy was too powerful,” he added with a disgruntled huff. “Most of these books are junk.”

“He was powerful enough to make himself immortal, although oddly not impervious to bullets. Pretty lame if you ask me.” Dean had almost forgotten about the amulet he’d pocketed and he brought it out when he encountered it in his jeans, turning it over in his fingers. It was a plain gold circle with two long scratches on one side. It looked more like an odd coin and Dean flipped it.

“I know. Is it too much to ask that the evil guys make it challenging?” Sam snorted, eyes bright with amusement. Dean chuckled. He had to admit, an easy hunt had been a nice change.

“Ah well Sammy, they can’t all be geniuses. Now, I think we deserve a celebratory beer,” Dean proposed, snagging his jacket off a nearby chair.

“Nah, you go. There might be something in these that I’m missing.”

“C’mon Sammy. Nothing sadder than a guy drinkin’ alone,” Dean prodded; leaning forward to flick shut the closest book. Sam gave him an annoyed glare and flipped it open again.

“You won’t be alone for long,” Sam dismissed.

“Just come. One beer.”

“You’re always bitching that I cramp your style. Go without me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just do what I ask you for once?” Dean snapped and felt a sharp pain in his fingers. He dropped the coin he’d still been flipping. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Sam looked up.

Dean hunkered down and picked up the coin. It had felt scalding hot for a split second but as he rubbed it, it was once again cool metal. He turned it over and saw that there were now three scratches on the surface. “Weird.”

“What is that?” Sam asked, leaning across the table to see what Dean was doing.

“Just a coin I picked up at that Sorcerer’s place. Got weirdly hot for a second. Don’t worry about it. Come for a beer.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, standing up and pulling his jacket off the back of the chair. Dean blinked at him.

“Seriously?”

Sam was frowning as he stood. “Ye-es. Suddenly it sounds like a really good idea.” Sam clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times and then raised his brows at Dean. “Give me a look at that coin,” he said, holding out his hand.

Dean shrugged and handed it over, watching as Sam ran his thumb over the scratched side. “This looks like something…” Dean watched in growing confusion as Sam started to lower back into his chair, something unreadable flashed across his face and he stood again, walking towards the door with stiff legs. He opened the motel door and then looked back at Dean. “Apparently,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “We are still going out for a drink.”

“What are you…?”

“I think this is a Monkey’s Paw,” Sam said, holding the coin out to Dean. “And I think you just made a wish.”

“Oh… oh crap.”

000

“It doesn’t look much like a monkey hand to me,” Dean said, turning the coin over in his fingers again.

“It’s just a name. You’re oddly literal sometimes.”

“Nah, just saw it on the Simpsons. Every time Homer made a wish, a finger turned down.” Dean shrugged, lying back and throwing an arm over his eyes. “I seem to remember the wishes turned out nasty.”

“Yeah, well, that much is true,” Sam allowed. “So, it looks right. How many scratches were on it when you picked it up?”

“Two.”

“How many now?”

“Three.” Dean heard Sam huff a frustrated sigh and sat up. “What?”

“That’s what I was afraid of. It seems Monkey’s Paws have a limited shelf-life. They’re good for three wishes and that’s it. The thing’s just a hunk of metal now.” Sam had the journal folded open on top of one of the sorcerer’s books that he’d found a reference to the Monkey’s Paw in. Sam had started reading aloud, Dean had told him to quit it and Sam’s jaw had closed so quickly it had clicked. Dean was now trying out the whole only speak when spoken to thing.

He figured it was safer.

“I never even said I wish,” Dean grumbled and Sam shook his head.

“You don’t actually have to say those specific words, there just has to be intent behind what you’re asking for.”

“Are you sure there're only three charges in this thing?” Dean asked and closed his fists around it, squeezing his eyes shut. “I want blonde, busty triplets and a million dollars.” Dean opened one eye and then the other, making a snort of disappointment.

“You’re probably lucky that didn’t work,” Sam noted. “You weren’t specific enough. You probably would’ve ended up with three large blonde guys with man-boobs.” Dean shuddered, tossing the coin at Sam who plucked it out of the air deftly.

“So you reckon the guy we wasted wished to be immortal but wasn’t specific enough?” Dean hazarded and Sam looked at him.

“Probably,” Sam agreed, pushing the books aside and standing, stretching his back until it popped loudly. Sam wasn’t normally a fidgeter but Dean had watched him getting increasingly agitated over the last hour.

“What’s wrong with you? Ants in your pants?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know… I feel weird,” Sam admitted. “Feel like I should be doing something.”

Both Winchesters looked at each other and then Dean dropped his head into his hands.

000

After Dean had asked Sam to go get them dinner, go for a run around the motel and fill the Impala with gas, Sam finally looked like he was able to relax. He flopped down on his bed with a relieved groan and then rolled over, face mashed into the mattress. “I hate you,” he growled, voice muffled.

“It’s not my fault,” Dean protested, but when Sam turned his head enough to treat him to a baleful glare, Dean ducked his head. “Okay, not entirely my fault. Who knew a guy would leave a magical wishing coin just lying about, huh?”

“You couldn’t have just wished for a sandwich?” Sam grumbled.

“I didn’t know I was wishing for anything. I certainly wouldn’t put your abject obedience at the top of my wish list if I had a choice.” Dean grinned. “Maybe somewhere around the middle.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Sam accused, rolling off the bed and storming towards the bathroom. “I can’t believe you!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” Dean said to the closed bathroom door.

000

Dean called Missouri while Sam was sulking in the bathroom and she pointed him in the direction of Madelyn Lane, after she yelled at Dean for at least twenty minutes. “Of all the damn-fool things I’ve heard of!” she shrilled. “Messin’ with stuff you don’t understand.”

Dean sat patiently through the tirade until Missouri ran out of steam. He hung up and dialed again almost immediately and wasn’t even surprised when Madelyn answered the phone with his name. “Hi, Dean, watch’a done now, hon?”

“I made a completely accidental wish with a Monkey’s Paw and need to reverse it.”

“What did you wish for? Something good I hope?”

“Is that really the point?”

“I would think so,” Madelyn said and Dean realized she was amused. He tried not to feel too insulted. For Sam’s sake they needed help and Dean had already sat through Missouri calling him every name she could think of for irresponsible behavior including a colorful few he’d never heard of. He could put up with Madelyn having a little fun.

“I asked my brother to do what I say while I was holding it and now… he does what I say.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Madelyn observed as the bathroom door swung open and Sam came out. Dean noticed the badly shaking hands and how Sam’s eyes had gone glassy and felt something tighten in his chest. On paper, what he’d wished for wasn’t that bad but the old adage was true, be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, holding the phone away from his mouth.

“No… I think… I need…” Sam wrung his hands in the bottom of his shirt and looked miserable.

“Go sit on the bed over there and don’t get up till I tell you,” Dean instructed and felt completely horrible when a beatific smile broke across Sam’s face and he practically jogged over to the bed on the other side of the room. He sat down and then lay back with a contented sigh.

“Believe me, it’s that bad,” Dean said.

“Okay, give me a few hours to make some calls,” Madelyn said, her voice reassuring.

000

The words, “Eat something,” were out of Dean’s mouth before he could think of the ramifications. They were in a diner one block down from their motel and even though there was a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of Sam, his napkin was closest to his hand and went promptly into his mouth. It didn’t help when Sam bit down as soon as Dean reached across and tried to yank the damn thing out; chewing the corner he had left when Dean managed to tear some of it free.

“Spit that out!” Dean hissed but it was too late. Sam had swallowed.

“For once in your life would you think before you speak,” Sam grated back, looking annoyed. His hands were now firmly planted on the tabletop and Dean realized that for the last few hours, Sam had done exactly nothing without prompting.

The wish was finding a new level on which to screw them.

“Please eat the breakfast we ordered for you,” Dean said carefully, holding up an imperious finger when Sam reached for his cutlery. “Chew carefully.” Sam frowned, hacking a bit of pancake off with his fork and then sticking it in his mouth. Dean watched him chew and swallow, looking heartbreakingly tragic about the whole thing.

“C’mon man, Madelyn will find some way to reverse this soon and we can go back to you disobeying me as a matter of course.” The skin was tightening around Sam’s eyes and he was shifting in his seat, so much so that Dean finally got what the problem was. “Oh c’mon,” he said, slapping a hand over his eyes. “You can’t go to the bathroom unless I tell you to, can you?”

Sam shook his head slowly, still looking bereft.

“Go to the bathroom, Sam,” Dean said and watched his brother’s retreating back until he disappeared through the restrooms swinging door.

“I think I found something,” their waitress said, standing at Dean’s elbow.

“What?”

“Oh sorry. It’s me, Madelyn. I thought this was quicker than calling.”

Dean jerked backwards, eyes wide. “Did you just… did you possess someone?” he demanded. He’d known from the small dealings he had with Madelyn Lane that she was walking a bit of a darker path than he would normally like, but there were just some things you didn’t do.

“My goodness, don’t be so delicate,” Madelyn dismissed, sliding into the booth seat opposite. “You hunters, always so black and white.”

“Possessing someone is pretty friggin’ black,” Dean snapped and Madelyn rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’m getting the bum end of this deal, believe me. Sarah here,” Madelyn explained, flicking the name badge on her chest, “Is asleep in my house, in my body. I’m stuck with her sore feet.” Madelyn lifted her chin and looked down her nose. “I’m doing this as a favor to you.”

“Alright, fine,” Dean said and then looked around. Sam had been gone awhile. “Just wait here a sec and don’t do anything evil.” Madelyn poked out her tongue.

Dean found Sam in the bathroom, jigging from foot to foot. “You asshole,” Sam yelled as soon as Dean appeared. “You said I could come to the bathroom but you didn’t say I could… go.” Sam flailed his hands, indicating the urinals only a foot away.

“Aw, geez,” Dean sighed. “Would you just-“

“Dean!” Sam practically screamed. “If you just tell me to go-”

“Is it me or is this just getting worse?”

“It’s not just you,” Sam snapped, making desperate motions in the direction of one of the stalls.

“Oh right, sorry. Sam, would you please go inside that stall,” Dean said, pointing. “Undo your jeans and take a piss in the appropriate receptacle.”

“That’s not funny!” Sam snarled, flinging himself in the direction of the indicated stall and then letting out a long groan of relief.

“When you’re done, come back out to the table,” Dean said, calling over his shoulder on his way out, “Wash your hands first.”

Madelyn was where Dean had left her. “Please tell me you can fix this?” he said, sliding back into the booth and dropping his head on top of his folded arms.

“Take this,” Madelyn said, holding out a piece of what looked like blue chalk. “Write this down.”

“Where?” Dean asked, motioning with the chalk.

“Anywhere. On the table is fine.” When Dean nodded, Madelyn said, “Notrus decume ne pasha nocht.”

“Could you spell that?”

Madelyn rolled her eyes again. “N-O-T…”

000

“That wasn’t Latin.”

“No, she said something like draconic.”

“You’re kidding.” Sam was pacing around the room, picking up books and setting them down, taking a sip of coffee, tossing clothes from one bed to the other, anything to prove that he once again had free will.

“Old magic.”

“What did it mean?”

“I am not my brother’s keeper,” Dean said with raised eyebrows, leaning back on his hands.

“Damn straight,” Sam snorted. “If anything, I’m your keeper. You’re the zoo animal.”

“Hey,” Dean protested. “Be nice to me. I didn’t make you do anything demeaning, and I so wanted to.”

“What would you have wished for?” Sam asked in a completely different tone. “If… if you’d known what it was.”

“Nothing. I would have destroyed the damn thing,” Dean said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Really? There’s nothing you want?”

“There’s stuff I want,” Dean said, eyes studying his hands. “Nothing I’d risk going bad like that, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

“Now, get me a sandwich, bitch,” Dean ordered and felt immensely better about the whole day when Sam tackled him off the bed.