Part 65

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Dean's POV

"Is he... having a sex dream?" Will asked, looking at Sam, who had fallen asleep sitting in a chair, hunched over the desk at the corner of the motel room.

He had begun making noises that definitely made it seem like a sex dream wasn't out of the question. "Sam! Wake up."

He twitched awake at the sound of my voice, slowly sitting up and wiping drool from his face. I chuckled, turning back to the experiment notes I was reading. "Dude, you were out. And making some serious happy noises."

Sam didn't turn around, but his head was angled just enough for me to see red stain his cheeks, even if he tried to play it off.

"Who were you dreaming about?" I questioned.

"What? No one. Nothing," he answered too quickly.

I exchanged a look with Willow, who seemed to believe him as much as I did. I winked at her before turning back t my little brother. "C'mon, you can tell us. Angelina Jolie?"

"No."

"Brad Pitt?" Will supplied. I raised an amused brow at the suggestion.

"No. No!" Sam finally turned to glance at Will and me. "Dude, it doesn't matter."

"Whatever." I turned back to the paper again. "I called Bela."

"Bela? Yeah? She- What'd she... you know, say? She... gonna... help us?"

"Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one. I've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do," I quipped. "You gonna come help us with this stuff?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably for a second, adjusting. "Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Will jumped to attention, getting her gun from the tv table she had had her feet on a moment earlier. I followed her to the door, ready as she opened a crack, looking out.

Annoyance overtook her features as she shifted the safety back on her gun, opening the door to let whoever was outside in.

Bela strode inside like she owned the place.

"Bela. As I live and breathe."

"You called me. Remember?" she sassed.

"I remember you turning me down," I snarled.

"Well, I'm just full of surprises." She turns to acknowledge Sam, who still sat by the desk, looking awkward.

He rose a few fingers in a low greeting, "Hey, Bela. What's going on?"

I gave him a look, not understanding what was wrong with him but then focused back on the living pest in the room.

"I brought you your African Dream Root," Bela said, handing over a glass jar to Will. "Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by." She took off her trench coat and put her bag on the closest table.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

She gave me a look of faked indignation. "What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?"

"No. You can't," I answered, noticing how Sam had suddenly tensed up as she slipped off her coat, as if he expected her to hide weapons or something. He then released a long breath.

"Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them," I pressed.

"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?"

I indulged her questioning with a nod.

"Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you," she informed us.

"Why?" Will asked, narrowing her eyes at the other woman.

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