Oblivio by Pheebs1
Title: Oblivio.
Author: pheebs1
Gen, PG-13
No Pairings
Warnings only for some v. mild cursing
W/C: 2000 or thereabouts (a little long… I got carried away).
Summary: Dean is given short-term memory loss by a cursed object.
The table is knocked over, papers and pens scattered to the floor.
Dean lets Sam right the table while he wanders over to the Warlock’s main desk.
“I guess we have to take care of anything in here that might be dangerous,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t bother replying because it’s not a question. The Warlock might be defeated - might have defeated himself with his backfiring spell - but the job is only half over. There are always bones to burn, or remains to destroy, or in this case, dangerous artefacts to rescue and lock away.
Dean takes the desk, because he thinks he’ll be able to get it done quickly. It has a cash register on it, a tub of pens, and a bottle of water with a muffin next to it. There are a few rows of herbs and spices that Dean will have to check over.
“Man. There are about a hundred different amulets here.” Sam’s exhaustion creeps out of his attempt to keep his tone level, making him verge on whiny. “It’s gonna take forever.”
“Yeah.” Dean grabs the guy’s muffin; no sense it going to waste. He takes a bite while he scans over the herbs. Mostly harmless, unless you knew what to do with them. He pockets a couple that will come in useful later and finishes off the muffin. The berries in it have a strange tang to them, like Dean hasn’t tasted them before, or they were a little rancid before the muffin got made.
Dean eats it anyway. It’ll be a while until dinner.
“Hey Sam-“
****
“Yeah?”
“Yeah what?” Dean frowns down at the desk. How did he make it over here? He turns, and watches as Sam rights the table. “What’s going on?”
“We’re cataloging, that’s what’s going on.” Sam bends down to pick up discarded papers. “We can lay stuff out we need to destroy here.” Sam pats the table with his spare hand, turning his attention to the papers in his other. He evidently decides they aren’t important because he balls them up and tosses them neatly into the waste paper basket.
“Something weird’s going on,” Dean starts, but stops because he isn’t sure what. He shoves his hand deep into his pockets, and draws out two small vials. “Huh.”
“What? Are they useful?” Sam nods at the vials in Dean’s hands.
“Yeah. I don’t remember putting them in there.”
“Stealing subconsciously Dean? That could be dangerous.”
“Ha ha, I-“
****
Dean squeezes his hand around two vials he doesn’t remember picking up.
“You what?”
“Huh?
“You said, I- then stopped and stared at your hand.” Sam paces toward a row of amulets, and starts picking odd ones up and tossing them gently onto the table. “It’s a hand. It’s used for sorting stuff out,” Sam says. “Like all of this.” Sam hunches his shoulders over and Dean doesn’t know why Sam’s pissed; Dean doesn’t remember agreeing to anything.
“We’re sorting?”
“No.” Sam places a few amulets very gently onto the table, as if he’s scared they’ll catch fire, then stands back and surveys the remaining ones. “So far only I am.” He waves toward a cabinet next to him. “There’s hundreds of rabbit’s feet and golem’s eyes and-“
“Sam.” Dean puts the vials back into his pocket; maybe he picked them up for some reason. “Something’s wrong. I don’t remember us saying we’d go through all this shit. I mean, we have to go through all this shit, but I don’t remember saying so. I don’t remember walking over to the desk.”
Sam stops what he’s doing, gives Dean his full attention. “What-“
****
“Are you saying?”
“Huh?”
“You were saying how you don’t remember us saying we’d go through all this.” Sam pats the cabinet firmly.
“I was?” Dean looks around, at the table which a second ago had papers on it and was falling over, and now is the right way up with a pile of amulets on it. “I don’t remember those getting there.” Dean points. “How did that happen?”
Sam crosses past Dean, and Dean tries not to panic, but it’s hard, ‘cause it feels like a huge chunk of time has somehow vanished, pulled out from around him without Dean noticing. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Sam says slowly, standing next to the table and placing both his hands flat on it, as if that will somehow bring him the answer.
“I remember you binding the Warlock’s powers, and he got pretty pissed, and did a spell which kind of sucked him away somewhere.” Dean racks his brain. “And there was a flash of light and the table got knocked over.”
“And then?”
“And then I was here. And the table was there without the papers on.”
“Hmm. You’ve lost time,” Sam says.
“I’ve what?” Dean looks around, as if the missing minutes are going to leap up in front of him, then curses himself for doing it.
“We have a problem.“
****
“You’ve lost time.” Sam is saying, with a waver in his voice.
“I’ve what?”
“The last thing you remember is the Warlock destroying himself with his spell, right?”
Dean nods. “Right.”
“That was over thirty minutes ago. You seem to be forgetting things.” Sam walks over real close and stares into Dean’s eyes. “You don’t look any different.”
Dean steps back. “You think losing time would make me look different? Like thirty minutes younger or something?”
“No, I-I don’t know.” Sam runs his hands over the amulets, picking one after another up carefully, then putting them down. “Maybe one of these did it, when I threw them down.”
“Maybe.” Dean puts his hands in his pockets, searching for clues. He pulls out two small vials of herbs. “Look.” He holds them out. “Are these-“
****
Dean stares at his own open hand, which appears to have gained two small vials of herbs in the last two minutes. He tries really hard to remember how they got there, but he has no idea. The resulting tremor running through him causes the vials to fall away.
Sam leaps forward with lightning speed and catches them. “Maybe these caused it.”
“Caused what?”
“The…” Sam tears his attention away from the herbs to blink at Dean. “Doesn’t last long does it?”
“What?”
“Your memory. Under ten minutes.”
“I can remember things for longer than ten minutes!” Dean joins Sam and stares at the herbs. “Okay, I never used to memorize shit for school like you, but I remember shit. I remember ways to-“
****
“You forget what you were saying?” Sam’s nose is right next to Dean’s, and somehow, they’re standing next to each other, next to the table.
“Yeah.” Dean backs away, reaches the cabinet and is forced not to move any further.
“Dean. You have short-term memory loss. You remember for about ten minutes, then forget.” Sam drops the vials onto the desk. “I don’t think it’s these. Do you remember doing anything else?”
“No.” Dean shrugs. “Last thing I remember the Warlock popped himself into oblivion with some random spell.”
“Right. Then you went over to the desk,” Sam says, striding purposefully over. “What did you do then?”
Dean joins Sam at the desk. “Dude, I’ve no idea.”
“Right. Me neither.”
****
Sam heaves a big sigh before Dean can even speak. “You have short-term memory loss. We don’t know what caused it. I’m trying to find out.”
Dean shuts his mouth, opens it again, but isn’t sure what to ask. Maybe he’s already asked everything. He wonders how much time has passed that he can’t remember. He wonders how many times Sam’s had to explain this.
“You were here. You would have checked the desk, you-“ Sam leans over, puts his nose right on the table, then presses his finger firmly onto it, and straightens up, lifting his finger in front of his eyes so close he goes slightly cross-eyed looking at it. “You ate a muffin!”
“I what?”
“You ate a muffin.”
“I never ate a muffin.” Dean rubs his stomach. It doesn’t feel full.
“Yes you did. I bet it was cursed.”
“But I’m hungry.” Dean licks his lips. “How can I be hungry if I ate a muffin?”
****
“I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“What’s what it was?”
Sam smacks his head with his palm, and crosses behind the desk to pull open drawers. “I think you ate a muffin that gave you short-term memory loss.”
“Right. And you ate a steak that gave you big ears. And an apple that made you sleep.” Dean swallows, and doesn’t admit to Sam that he tastes a strange tang as he does so, as if he’s been given a nasty candy he’s not had before.
“No. Really.” Sam pulls papers out of the drawer, and lets out a triumphant snort when he gets to a particular one. “It is the muffin!” He waves a sheet of paper in the air. “Here’s a recipe.”
“There’s a page labelled ‘memory loss muffins?’ Is it right there next to hair growing cookies?”
“I’m not kidding Dean. In two minutes I’ll have to explain this to you all over again.”
“Oh, re-“
****
Sam’s holding a piece of paper, and he’s behind the desk now.
“How did you get over there?”
“I-Oh great. You have short-term memory loss, brought on by eating a muffin. I’m gonna call Bobby and see what he suggests for fixing it.” Sam’s pulling out his cell and calling already.
Dean tries to remember what he’s just been doing. He remembers the Warlock and the spell, he remembers the table getting knocked over. He doesn’t remember anything since. It’s as if Dean’s just woken up, and he’s aware he’s been sleeping but isn’t sure for how long, and he can’t remember what he was dreaming.
Sam’s muttering in the background, and then slamming his cell shut with a fierceness that cannot mean good news for Dean. “So?”
“Bobby thinks- it’s not permanent.” Sam’s lips quirk into a smile. “His exact words were, his memory will be as bad as ever.”
“Remind me to kick Bobby’s ass for that,” Dean stalks over to Sam. “When you know, I forget.”
“He thinks it will last until you pass the muffin.”
“Until I pass the-I have to wait until I sh-“
****
“How long does it take for food to pass through the body?” Sam’s over by the desk now, and where that random question came from Dean has no idea.
“I don’t know. Depends.”
“Yeah. On metabolism. So maybe a day, maybe less. Great.”
“Why?
“You ate a cursed muffin and it gave you short-term memory loss and it will be fixed when it’s out of your system.” Sam delivers this all in one breath, as if he’s nervous he won’t be able to get to the end of his sentence.
“Which means?”
“Which means we have to have this conversation every ten minutes for the next 24 hours.” Sam reaches for one of the balled up pieces up paper in the waste paper basket, and pulls it out. “I might need a sign, I’m gonna get bored saying this.” He grabs a pen and scrawls something on the paper that Dean can’t see.
“You could come up with some shorthand like, shit out the muffin.”
****
“What’s-“
Sam holds up his hand and waves a pen in the air. “You have short-term memory loss. While I figure out how to fix it, you agreed to catalog the Warlock’s stuff.”
“I did?” Dean narrows his eyes, and looks around. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d agree to.”
Sam holds up a sign that says, in block capitals, I, Dean Winchester, agree to catalog, while Sam fixes my memory.
The capitals could belong to Dean.
They could equally belong to Sam.
“Are you shitting me?”
Sam shakes his head solemnly. “No.”
“Give me that pen.” Dean snatches it from Sam’s hand, and writes firmly on his own skin,
When this is all over, kick Sam’s ass.
**
I would love to know what you thought.
Author: pheebs1
Gen, PG-13
No Pairings
Warnings only for some v. mild cursing
W/C: 2000 or thereabouts (a little long… I got carried away).
Summary: Dean is given short-term memory loss by a cursed object.
The table is knocked over, papers and pens scattered to the floor.
Dean lets Sam right the table while he wanders over to the Warlock’s main desk.
“I guess we have to take care of anything in here that might be dangerous,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t bother replying because it’s not a question. The Warlock might be defeated - might have defeated himself with his backfiring spell - but the job is only half over. There are always bones to burn, or remains to destroy, or in this case, dangerous artefacts to rescue and lock away.
Dean takes the desk, because he thinks he’ll be able to get it done quickly. It has a cash register on it, a tub of pens, and a bottle of water with a muffin next to it. There are a few rows of herbs and spices that Dean will have to check over.
“Man. There are about a hundred different amulets here.” Sam’s exhaustion creeps out of his attempt to keep his tone level, making him verge on whiny. “It’s gonna take forever.”
“Yeah.” Dean grabs the guy’s muffin; no sense it going to waste. He takes a bite while he scans over the herbs. Mostly harmless, unless you knew what to do with them. He pockets a couple that will come in useful later and finishes off the muffin. The berries in it have a strange tang to them, like Dean hasn’t tasted them before, or they were a little rancid before the muffin got made.
Dean eats it anyway. It’ll be a while until dinner.
“Hey Sam-“
****
“Yeah?”
“Yeah what?” Dean frowns down at the desk. How did he make it over here? He turns, and watches as Sam rights the table. “What’s going on?”
“We’re cataloging, that’s what’s going on.” Sam bends down to pick up discarded papers. “We can lay stuff out we need to destroy here.” Sam pats the table with his spare hand, turning his attention to the papers in his other. He evidently decides they aren’t important because he balls them up and tosses them neatly into the waste paper basket.
“Something weird’s going on,” Dean starts, but stops because he isn’t sure what. He shoves his hand deep into his pockets, and draws out two small vials. “Huh.”
“What? Are they useful?” Sam nods at the vials in Dean’s hands.
“Yeah. I don’t remember putting them in there.”
“Stealing subconsciously Dean? That could be dangerous.”
“Ha ha, I-“
****
Dean squeezes his hand around two vials he doesn’t remember picking up.
“You what?”
“Huh?
“You said, I- then stopped and stared at your hand.” Sam paces toward a row of amulets, and starts picking odd ones up and tossing them gently onto the table. “It’s a hand. It’s used for sorting stuff out,” Sam says. “Like all of this.” Sam hunches his shoulders over and Dean doesn’t know why Sam’s pissed; Dean doesn’t remember agreeing to anything.
“We’re sorting?”
“No.” Sam places a few amulets very gently onto the table, as if he’s scared they’ll catch fire, then stands back and surveys the remaining ones. “So far only I am.” He waves toward a cabinet next to him. “There’s hundreds of rabbit’s feet and golem’s eyes and-“
“Sam.” Dean puts the vials back into his pocket; maybe he picked them up for some reason. “Something’s wrong. I don’t remember us saying we’d go through all this shit. I mean, we have to go through all this shit, but I don’t remember saying so. I don’t remember walking over to the desk.”
Sam stops what he’s doing, gives Dean his full attention. “What-“
****
“Are you saying?”
“Huh?”
“You were saying how you don’t remember us saying we’d go through all this.” Sam pats the cabinet firmly.
“I was?” Dean looks around, at the table which a second ago had papers on it and was falling over, and now is the right way up with a pile of amulets on it. “I don’t remember those getting there.” Dean points. “How did that happen?”
Sam crosses past Dean, and Dean tries not to panic, but it’s hard, ‘cause it feels like a huge chunk of time has somehow vanished, pulled out from around him without Dean noticing. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Sam says slowly, standing next to the table and placing both his hands flat on it, as if that will somehow bring him the answer.
“I remember you binding the Warlock’s powers, and he got pretty pissed, and did a spell which kind of sucked him away somewhere.” Dean racks his brain. “And there was a flash of light and the table got knocked over.”
“And then?”
“And then I was here. And the table was there without the papers on.”
“Hmm. You’ve lost time,” Sam says.
“I’ve what?” Dean looks around, as if the missing minutes are going to leap up in front of him, then curses himself for doing it.
“We have a problem.“
****
“You’ve lost time.” Sam is saying, with a waver in his voice.
“I’ve what?”
“The last thing you remember is the Warlock destroying himself with his spell, right?”
Dean nods. “Right.”
“That was over thirty minutes ago. You seem to be forgetting things.” Sam walks over real close and stares into Dean’s eyes. “You don’t look any different.”
Dean steps back. “You think losing time would make me look different? Like thirty minutes younger or something?”
“No, I-I don’t know.” Sam runs his hands over the amulets, picking one after another up carefully, then putting them down. “Maybe one of these did it, when I threw them down.”
“Maybe.” Dean puts his hands in his pockets, searching for clues. He pulls out two small vials of herbs. “Look.” He holds them out. “Are these-“
****
Dean stares at his own open hand, which appears to have gained two small vials of herbs in the last two minutes. He tries really hard to remember how they got there, but he has no idea. The resulting tremor running through him causes the vials to fall away.
Sam leaps forward with lightning speed and catches them. “Maybe these caused it.”
“Caused what?”
“The…” Sam tears his attention away from the herbs to blink at Dean. “Doesn’t last long does it?”
“What?”
“Your memory. Under ten minutes.”
“I can remember things for longer than ten minutes!” Dean joins Sam and stares at the herbs. “Okay, I never used to memorize shit for school like you, but I remember shit. I remember ways to-“
****
“You forget what you were saying?” Sam’s nose is right next to Dean’s, and somehow, they’re standing next to each other, next to the table.
“Yeah.” Dean backs away, reaches the cabinet and is forced not to move any further.
“Dean. You have short-term memory loss. You remember for about ten minutes, then forget.” Sam drops the vials onto the desk. “I don’t think it’s these. Do you remember doing anything else?”
“No.” Dean shrugs. “Last thing I remember the Warlock popped himself into oblivion with some random spell.”
“Right. Then you went over to the desk,” Sam says, striding purposefully over. “What did you do then?”
Dean joins Sam at the desk. “Dude, I’ve no idea.”
“Right. Me neither.”
****
Sam heaves a big sigh before Dean can even speak. “You have short-term memory loss. We don’t know what caused it. I’m trying to find out.”
Dean shuts his mouth, opens it again, but isn’t sure what to ask. Maybe he’s already asked everything. He wonders how much time has passed that he can’t remember. He wonders how many times Sam’s had to explain this.
“You were here. You would have checked the desk, you-“ Sam leans over, puts his nose right on the table, then presses his finger firmly onto it, and straightens up, lifting his finger in front of his eyes so close he goes slightly cross-eyed looking at it. “You ate a muffin!”
“I what?”
“You ate a muffin.”
“I never ate a muffin.” Dean rubs his stomach. It doesn’t feel full.
“Yes you did. I bet it was cursed.”
“But I’m hungry.” Dean licks his lips. “How can I be hungry if I ate a muffin?”
****
“I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“What’s what it was?”
Sam smacks his head with his palm, and crosses behind the desk to pull open drawers. “I think you ate a muffin that gave you short-term memory loss.”
“Right. And you ate a steak that gave you big ears. And an apple that made you sleep.” Dean swallows, and doesn’t admit to Sam that he tastes a strange tang as he does so, as if he’s been given a nasty candy he’s not had before.
“No. Really.” Sam pulls papers out of the drawer, and lets out a triumphant snort when he gets to a particular one. “It is the muffin!” He waves a sheet of paper in the air. “Here’s a recipe.”
“There’s a page labelled ‘memory loss muffins?’ Is it right there next to hair growing cookies?”
“I’m not kidding Dean. In two minutes I’ll have to explain this to you all over again.”
“Oh, re-“
****
Sam’s holding a piece of paper, and he’s behind the desk now.
“How did you get over there?”
“I-Oh great. You have short-term memory loss, brought on by eating a muffin. I’m gonna call Bobby and see what he suggests for fixing it.” Sam’s pulling out his cell and calling already.
Dean tries to remember what he’s just been doing. He remembers the Warlock and the spell, he remembers the table getting knocked over. He doesn’t remember anything since. It’s as if Dean’s just woken up, and he’s aware he’s been sleeping but isn’t sure for how long, and he can’t remember what he was dreaming.
Sam’s muttering in the background, and then slamming his cell shut with a fierceness that cannot mean good news for Dean. “So?”
“Bobby thinks- it’s not permanent.” Sam’s lips quirk into a smile. “His exact words were, his memory will be as bad as ever.”
“Remind me to kick Bobby’s ass for that,” Dean stalks over to Sam. “When you know, I forget.”
“He thinks it will last until you pass the muffin.”
“Until I pass the-I have to wait until I sh-“
****
“How long does it take for food to pass through the body?” Sam’s over by the desk now, and where that random question came from Dean has no idea.
“I don’t know. Depends.”
“Yeah. On metabolism. So maybe a day, maybe less. Great.”
“Why?
“You ate a cursed muffin and it gave you short-term memory loss and it will be fixed when it’s out of your system.” Sam delivers this all in one breath, as if he’s nervous he won’t be able to get to the end of his sentence.
“Which means?”
“Which means we have to have this conversation every ten minutes for the next 24 hours.” Sam reaches for one of the balled up pieces up paper in the waste paper basket, and pulls it out. “I might need a sign, I’m gonna get bored saying this.” He grabs a pen and scrawls something on the paper that Dean can’t see.
“You could come up with some shorthand like, shit out the muffin.”
****
“What’s-“
Sam holds up his hand and waves a pen in the air. “You have short-term memory loss. While I figure out how to fix it, you agreed to catalog the Warlock’s stuff.”
“I did?” Dean narrows his eyes, and looks around. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d agree to.”
Sam holds up a sign that says, in block capitals, I, Dean Winchester, agree to catalog, while Sam fixes my memory.
The capitals could belong to Dean.
They could equally belong to Sam.
“Are you shitting me?”
Sam shakes his head solemnly. “No.”
“Give me that pen.” Dean snatches it from Sam’s hand, and writes firmly on his own skin,
When this is all over, kick Sam’s ass.
**
I would love to know what you thought.