Chapter Text
Dean had only stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes earlier to make himself a cup of joe when Cas found him.
Of course, the angel didn’t look half as terrible as Dean was feeling, but instead seemed like his normal self as if he hadn’t drunk every last bottle of alcohol they had found stored away somewhere in the bunker the night before.
Figured.
Dean was sure Cas had been tipsy, too, even though he had drunk Dean under the table…
“Dean—”
Flopping down onto a chair, Dean preemptively held up his hand to signal Cas to stop talking (or better yet, not start in the first place).
“Let’s not do this right now, okay? I have the hangover from hell…”
Before he could list more reasons why talking about the night before was a bad idea, Cas leaned over and pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead. The pounding headache that had been killing Dean since he had woken up was gone in an instant.
“Uhm… thanks.”
Dean took a huge sip from his coffee because even though he was healed of any after effects, his mind hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that he wasn’t hungover anymore.
“I was wondering…” Cas started, who was still standing next to Dean awkwardly.
“Seriously,” Dean interrupted him once more. “Really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”
“Lecture? No.—I…”
Luckily, Dean’s cell phone started ringing right then and Dean, happy for the excuse, hurried to answer it, ignoring Cas’ sour expression.
“Yeah.”
“Dean? It’s Brad.”
Sam chose this moment to walk into the kitchen. He nodded at Dean and Cas in greeting and went for the coffee machine.
Dean made an honest effort to listen to what Brad was saying, but he got distracted as Sam and Cas started whispering to each other as to not disturb Dean’s phone call.
Since there was really no reason for Sam to know about the whole thing, Dean tried to signal Cas to stop talking by moving his hand back and forth across his neck as if he were cutting his throat.
Of course, the only one who noticed his gesture was Sam who raised his eyebrows at him.
“…worked together on that Banshee case?” Brad was saying on the phone.
“Yeah, of course I remember you guys,” Dean said. They had met the cousins a couple of years ago in… “Iowa, right? How’s Chris doing?”
Dean watched Sam dragging Cas out of the kitchen, having interpreted his ‘stop talking’ sign the wrong way.
He was about to follow them to make sure that chatty Cassie didn’t say anything about… anything, when Brad said, “Actually, we need your help.”
***
“So, there’s no way to get Chris’ memories of Brad back?” Dean asked Sam, who was skimming over whatever he had found about the monster on the Internet.
They were all sitting in the library, trying to come up with a plan to help their hunter friends—so far, in vain.
Sam nodded, reading out, “Once the Storgephagos consumes the memories, they’re gone for good.”
“Damn,” Dean swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So, Chris is missing half his life because of that monster, and Brad… well, he basically lost the closest thing he had to a brother.”
Annoyed that they had hit a dead end so quickly when he had promised Brad that they would help, Dean muttered, “They should have called us earlier. What are we supposed to do about it now?”
“Maybe we should focus on finding a way for Chris to keep the few memories of Brad he has left instead of searching for a way to reverse it,” Sam suggested.
“Maybe we should just kill the monster,” Dean countered. “See if that reverses the effects.”
“It has already fed off those memories,” Cas butted in. “They are gone.”
“Well, it still needs to be taken care of,” Dean said. “We can’t let it do that to anyone else.”
They were silent for a moment, trying to decide what their next step should be.
“So, this Sarcophagus…” Dean began.
“Storgephagos,” Sam corrected him promptly.
“Whatever—can we just call it ‘coffin monster’?”
“That would be highly inaccurate,” Cas pointed out, “since its name loosely translates to ‘eater of familial love.’”
“Well, that’s a mouthful, I think I’m gonna stick with ‘coffin monster.’ So, this coffin monster…” Dean trailed off, waiting for Sam to jump in with the relevant information they’d need for ganking it.
Sam didn’t disappoint as he immediately rattled off, “It takes away the victim’s memories of a blood relative by latching on to the love between them and feeding off that love.”
“Whoa, hold up there, ‘blood relative’?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “You mean, like brothers?”
“Yeah. Brothers, sisters, parents, children. Cousins, obviously…”
“Or brothers,” Dean repeated more firmly, motioning between Sam and himself.
“Oh.” Sam finally seemed to get what Dean was getting at.
"Well, we're definitely not going in there, guns ablazing, and risk the coffin monster making us forget each other.”
So much for plan A…
“Aw,” Sam said, turning towards Cas. “Did he just admit that he loves me?”
Cas, of course, just frowned at him.
“Fuck off!” Dean grumbled.
Cas was still squinting at them. “I do not understand the problem,” he stated. “He has admitted his love for you before.”
That made Dean turn around to glare at him.
“You’re on my list, too, buddy,” he declared, which apparently only served to confuse the angel more.
“What list?”
Sam snickered. “The list of people he loves.”
Picking up the book about old mystical creatures that was lying on the table in front of him, Dean threw it at Sam in retaliation, but his brother just ducked out of the way and laughed harder.
“Seriously, though,” Dean said, trying to get them back on track. He pointed at Sam, deciding, “You’re staying here. Cas and I'll take care of it."
“That won’t work,” Cas shot down that idea.
When Dean just raised his eyebrows at him, waiting for an explanation, he continued, “It’s not about whether Sam is there or not. The Storgephagos can still go after your memories of him.—I think it would be best if I were to go alone.”
“No,” Dean immediately declined.
Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him. “No?” he repeated.
“Yes, ‘no,’” Dean said gruffly and a bit annoyed because only Cas could come up with a plan that would most likely put the angel in danger while keeping Dean and Sam out of harm’s way. “No, as in that's a stupid idea and we're not doing that. Moving on.”
“What if we use a spell?” Sam suggested. When both Dean and Cas turned to him, he explained, “A memory spell to take our memories of each other away and then, after the hunt, we reverse it. I think I heard Rowena mention a spell like that once.”
“There.” Dean looked at Cas as he gestured towards Sam. “That is an idea that’s not monumentally stupid.”
After a moment of contemplation, he added, “Although, that would take away the memories of most of our lives.”
That would most probably not prove very helpful in a fight against a monster.
“There might be an Enochian spell that can help,” Cas said. “A spell to protect the bond between relatives. You would not forget each other, but the fact that you are family will be hidden from those you wish to hide it from.”
“Man, angels are weird,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Why would you have a spell for that?”
The only answer he got was a dark look from Cas.
Two hours later, they were getting ready to hit the road to hunt themselves a monster that fed on memories.
As they carried their duffle bags to the Impala, an uneasy feeling was gnawing at Dean.
With a shake of the head, he tried to dispel the feeling.
They had taken precautions; Cas had enchanted both Sam’s and Dean’s watch with the Enochian protection spell so that the monster would not be able to steal their memories as long as they were wearing them.
What could possibly go wrong?