Chapter Text
"Sam. You've gotta stop doing this, man."
Dean held a handkerchief over Sam's lower face, trying desperately to slow the blood streaming from his brother's nose.
Sam's hands were otherwise occupied, gripping his head tightly as his eyelids fluttered, eyes squeezed shut against the migraine levels of agony pulsing through his skull.
Dean had just witnessed Sam throwing out his hands to catch a chandelier in midair after it was ripped from the ceiling by this week's poltergeist, narrowly saving his big brother from becoming a smear on the floor of the old mansion.
"...So how many abilities do you even have now, Professor X?"
Sam chuckled weakly. "Jus' th'two s'far, D'n."