Hi again all! Sorry about the wait on this chapter…as I told you all at the beginning, this one is being posted as I write…I haven't finished it at all and am sort of working on it as I go. So I hope you all enjoy, and big thankyous to everyone who has already reviewed and inspired me to keep going…I love hearing from you! xoxo

Dean is at the end of his tether.

He doesn't kid himself. Dean knows he is a strong person. He knows Sam looks up to him for this very reason, that he has his whole life. Not many four year olds could have coped with the death of their mother and the breakdown of their father the way Dean did. Not many small children could have shouldered the responsibility of a baby brother.

He holds it together when others are falling apart; it's what Dean does. He did it when their father died, in his own way, when their mother died, when Jess died. He's tried to be Sam's strength when his little brother had none of his own left, too many times to count. He doesn't worry about his own feelings often. He just soldiers on.

But this is too much for him, and suddenly he doesn't feel so strong anymore. He feels weary, beaten down, tired, so tired.

He thinks his movements must be lethargic, the way he feels, thinks his voice must be dull and emotionless and dead.

The hunt took a lot out of him as well, and Sam isn't the only one having nightmares.

Dean can feel himself breaking under the pressure, the need to help Sam, the futility of it all. He doesn't know how to help. He doesn't know what to do.

"Please, Sam, pull it together." He whispers to his brother's sleeping form, watching silvery moonlight play over his brother's weary face. "Please. I don't know how much longer I can do this." As soon as the words leave his mouth he feels instantly guilty, and selfish.

He wonders what this horrible aftermath is doing to them, and as much as he doesn't want to feel this way, as much as he hates himself for it, he can't help the tiny seed of resentment that is flowering in his deepest self.

Resentment at Sam, for being so…needy. Dean can't help but ask himself, why does he always have to be the strong one? He knows such thoughts are unfair and unworthy of the relationship he and his brother share, but he just can't help it.

When Sam whimpers in his sleep and comes awake with tears in his eyes, Dean strokes his hair just like he always does. Sam's hair is damp with sweat and when Dean lets his hand trail lower and rest on the side of Sam's neck he can feel his little brother trembling.

"It's okay," he murmurs, trying to soothe his baby brother, "It's okay." He wonders whether Sam can feel the difference in Dean's touch; hear the difference in his voice. It's not that Dean doesn't care anymore, or even that he cares less. He simply doesn't care with the intensity he once did, can't summon the strength to take care of his brother with the same determination he once had, not so very long ago.

He is tired, so tired. Tired of everything, including looking after Sam, but he knows he'll keep on doing it until he collapses from exhaustion.

He doesn't know how to do anything else.

When they returned to the house not more than fourteen hours had passed, but Sam thought Faye looked older and wearier already. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she looked paler, worn down.

When she opened the door and saw who was standing there, her eyes lit up a little.

"You're back. I'm glad." She said huskily, reaching out and catching hold of Dean's sleeve, tugging him inside. Sam followed closely and she shut the door quickly and firmly behind them, as if afraid that they might leave again.

"What's going on?" Dean asked sharply, sensing immediately that something had changed overnight.

"That thing…" Faye shuddered a little, and Sam put a soothing hand on her arm. "It's not my son anymore." She finished miserably.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and then started towards the stairs, Faye close on their heels. "You don't have to come with us, Faye." Sam said gently, halting.

"Yes I do." She said quietly. "What if somehow my son can see still, can hear? I don't want him to feel alone. I want him to know that his mum is here."

Dean found himself nodding before Sam could speak. "Good idea." He said gruffly, leading the way forward again. He was remembering the way he had felt once he realized that his little brother was possessed, how worried he'd been for Sam. Not just because he was possessed, and because of what the demon controlling his body might do to him, but because his little brother might feel alone and scared and frightened.

Dean was grateful that he always kept his leather jacket on as they reached the bedroom door. The temperature changed suddenly, dropping, the air around them cold and sharp. He reached out and laid a hand on the doorknob, and the metal was cold under his fingers.

Behind the door the thing that had once been Faye's son sat on the end of the bed, and when they entered it looked up and grinned, but there was no warmth or real happiness in the expression. It was cold and calculating and evil, and it made Sam shiver to see such a look on the face of a child.

"Back so soon?" It greeted them. There were bruises and scratches on Jordan's face and arms; and Dean wondered for a moment how they had gotten there. The child's skin was pale and sickly looking, almost grey, his hair lank and greasy. He was skinny, far too skinny, and Dean recalled Faye saying something about his refusal to eat.

His eyes were inky black, and Faye whispered from behind Dean, "His eyes are like that all the time now."

The thing that was once a child regarded the Winchesters for a moment, and Dean got the impression from its' coldly amused expression that it didn't need them to speak to know what they were thinking. "You're back already, and with no solution."

Faye looked from one to the other Winchester, her eyes pleading. "You can't help him?"

"We didn't say that." Sam said quickly. "We haven't found anything yet. We just need a little more time."

"Time?" The thing shook its' head sorrowfully at the three in front of it. "Time is something little Jordan here doesn't have."

Suddenly the grin disappeared, and the body on the bed sagged forward, the inky black fading away and leaving blue eyes filled with frightened tears. "Mummy," Jordan said hoarsely, wrapping his arms around his stomach and doubling over. "It hurts…"

"Jordie!" Faye rushed to her son's side and wrapped her arms around his sobbing form. "It's okay, baby, Mummy's here…"

"It hurts." The child wept weakly, looking up over his mother's shoulder at the Winchesters. "Please, make it stop…" He coughed weakly then through his tears, and bright blood spilled forth over his lips and stained his mother's shoulder.

"Shit." Dean muttered, horrified, and Sam moved forward to crouch near the frightened child.

"We're going to help you, Jordan. You just hang on, okay?"

The little boy sniffled and nodded weakly. "Okay."

Almost instantly his eyes turned black again and his expression cruel. "Get away from me, bitch." He said in a much stronger voice, and shoved Faye with supernatural strength. She flew across the room and slammed hard into the opposite wall, crying out in surprise and pain.

Sam straightened and moved warily away from the child while Dean helped Faye up.

"You're going to help him, are you, Sam?" The demon taunted. "And how, exactly, are you going to do that? You shouldn't lie to the kid, you know. Give him false hope. He's so scared, and in so much pain…"

"We will help him." Sam said through gritted teeth. "We're gonna send you back to hell where you belong, asshole."

The thing smiled, unconcerned. "No, you're not. You don't know how, and even if you could work it out, it would take you a lot longer than this kid has left to live. He's got some pretty nasty internal injuries."

Faye made a soft whimpering sound, and Dean squeezed her elbow in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"How about we make a deal?" The thing invited, and both Dean and Sam turned their heads towards it warily.

"What kind of a deal?" Sam spoke first, his voice cautious and suspicious. The incident with the crossroads demon was too fresh in both their minds for them to be anything but wary of the 'deals' these creatures could offer.

The 'child' smiled evilly, satisfied that it had their attention.

"This body has been…interesting." It shrugged, looking down at the bruised and bloody skin it inhabited. "But a child's body has its' limits. For that matter, so does any normal human body." It looked up again then, and its' eyes were smouldering. "But your body, Sam Winchester," and the desire and want in its' voice made Sam shudder, "Your body would be a whole different story."

In a heartbeat Dean had released his grip on Faye and crossed the room to stand in front of Sam, placing himself between the thing on the bed and his younger brother.

"Fuck off." He growled, his voice low with rage. "There's no way that's going to happen."

"Come on, Dean, you want to save Jordan too, right?" The thing coaxed. "I promise I'll leave his body and leave him alone. All Sam has to do is take off that charm he's wearing and let me possess him instead." It turned its' eyes back on the younger Winchester, and they were dark with greed. "The yellow-eyed demon isn't the only one interested in you and your powers, Sam."

Sam felt like he was going to throw up, and he could feel himself trembling.

"I can see you need some time to think about it. That's fine." The thing on the bed smiled cruelly. "I'll give you about twenty four hours. If you're not back, this time tomorrow morning, and without that little charm for protection…then it's over for Jordan. And it won't be quick. It won't be painless. Can you let a little boy die, Sam, when it's in your power to save him?"

"Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch." Dean practically snarled, taking a step towards the bed, his fists clenching and unclenching in fury.

"You boys have a lot to talk about." The demon winked at them. "I'll see you in the morning."

As it spoke the Winchesters and Faye found themselves flung backwards by an invisible force, tossed out the door and it slammed, hard, behind them, locking them in the corridor.