Sam had managed to fill the flask with fresh holy water without incident. The church had been practically deserted given the time of day.
As he walked back towards the apartment in the late afternoon sunshine, he was suddenly overcome by a feeling of dread. It was like someone walking over his grave, but magnified tenfold. One thought came unbidden into his head.
Dean.
Sam began to run.
Please don't let anything have happened to him he prayed as he ran.
It seemed to take forever to reach the building but finally he got there. Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced to the door and after some slight fumbling managed to get the key in the lock. Out of breath, he didn't care if Dean teased him for letting his imagination get the better of him, as long as he was alright.
The scene that greeted him would be burned in his memory forever.
Anna was standing there, tears pouring down her face, screaming Dean's name and trying ineffectually to grab hold of his legs. And Dean – he was hanging, a noose tightly round his neck, lifeless.
Sam's knees almost gave way, but somehow he managed to stagger into the room. There was an anguished cry coming from somewhere and it took him a moment to realise it was him making the noise. Anna said his name, and was babbling hysterically something about 'shadows' and 'Anderson' but Sam wasn't listening – nothing existed for him right now except his brother.
He threw himself at Dean's legs, taking the weight of his body and reached up with one hand desperately trying to loosen the noose. It seemed to take forever, but eventually it was loose enough for Sam to get it off Dean's neck. Staggering as he took all of Dean's weight he managed to gently lay him down on the floor. His eyes frantically searched Dean's face for signs of life all the while praying as hard as he could.
Please don't do this – please don't take him. Not Dean, not now!
Struggling to stop his hands shaking violently, Sam reached out to feel for a pulse. It felt like the longest moment of his life, but suddenly he could feel it, a little weak but still there. Tears of relief now joined the tears of anguish and fear that had been pouring down his face.
He slapped Dean's face lightly.
"Dean! Dean,come on man it's me. Dean open your eyes, please!"
Nothing. He put his cheek to Dean's mouth and was rewarded with a light brush of air that told him his brother was still breathing. Thanking whichever God might be listening right now, Sam suddenly remembered Anna and looked up.
She was standing a few feet away, her arms wrapped round herself, shaking and crying silently with a wide eyed gaze that had never left Dean.
"Hey, Anna it's ok - he's alive." said Sam trying to sound reassuring, something that wasn't helped by how shaky his voice sounded.
"I tried to stop it!" her voice was barely a whisper "I tried, but there was nothing I could do!"
Sam shook his head "It's ok – it's not your fault."
Suddenly he realised that if Anderson had done this then he must still be around. Grabbing John's journal from the table he scrambled to his feet and began reading.
The latin poured from his lips easily. He'd always found it easy and years of practice had helped, given Dean's dislike for having to learn it. He took the flask out of his pocket as he read and, fumbling, managed to get the cap off. He sprinkled the water within the symbols they'd chalked on the floor and continued speaking.
Suddenly, he froze. He heard Anna's choked "No!" and saw out of the corner of his eye a dark shadow appear. He tried to carry on but his throat felt like it had seized up.
"Well, well – if it isn't the other Winchester boy." said a silkily cold voice in his ear. "So good of you to join us, although I fear too late for your brother. It was so interesting in his mind you know. All that fear, it was almost too easy. And you were his last thought – he was begging you to come and save him, but alas you never came."
Sam felt fresh tears sting his eyes at the words. He knew Anderson was baiting him, trying to make him feel despair and pain, but he could imagine how scared Dean must have been and the thought that he hadn't been there for his brother was like a knife through his heart.
Suddenly he heard Anna's voice.
"Hey you – you know if someone writes this stuff for you, I'd ask for your money back. I mean hello? Could you sound more tacky and predictable?"
The shadow seemed to turn and for a moment Sam felt the dread and paralysis lift. He managed to start speaking again – he only had a few more lines to go and if he could just finish it...
But then it was back.
"Oh that was good my dear – try and distract me while Sam here finishes the ritual? Tut tut – that wasn't nice."
To Sam's horror he heard Anna cry out and she suddenly disappeared.
"Now, where were we?"
The journal fell from Sam's suddenly lifeless fingers. He was trying with everything he had to resist but it was no good. He felt his feet dragging across the floor towards where the noose still hung. Dean was still lying there, motionless, and Sam was terrified that he'd stopped breathing but he couldn't control his limbs enough to check.
This is it he thought I'm so sorry, Dean.
He heard an evil laugh as Anderson made him pick up the chair that had fallen. He felt himself climbing onto it, his hands reaching out to re-tighten the noose. He hoped he'd at least see Dean when it was over. He gave a brief thought for John, and wondered if anyone would be able to find him to give him the news.
"I suppose you thought that was clever did you? Well guess what mister – you may have killed me once but you don't get rid of me that easily."
Sam could have jumped for joy at hearing Anna's voice again, if he'd been able to move. It sounded weaker than before, but he couldn't turn his head to see if she was alright.
"My, we are persistent aren't we?" said Anderson, sounding mildly annoyed. "It won't work though you know – I'm afraid young Sammy here is mine now."
"It's Sam." he managed to say through gritted teeth. No one was allowed to call him Sammy except Dean – no one.
However much of a distraction Anna was causing though, it wasn't enough to give him back control of his movements. So he could only stand there, listening to Anna and Anderson as they seemed to moved round the room.
Suddenly he heard something else though. Something he'd thought he might never hear again.
Dean could hear Sam voice speaking latin, as if from a great distance, but he just couldn't get enough energy to open his eyes. His throat felt like it was on fire and his mind was fuzzy.
What the hell happened? he thought, and then he heard it. That other voice.
Shit – Anderson! It all came flooding back to him and with monumental effort he opened his eyes. Shifting his gaze without moving his head he saw Sam freeze. He heard Anderson taunting Sam about his own last moments and he clenched his jaw to keep from saying something, not wanting to alert the spirit to his presence.
He heard Anna's voice too and his stomach clenched when he heard her cry out. He saw Sam coming towards him, his movements jerky and clearly not in his control, and he closed his eyes again. As they passed he heard Sam picking up the chair and he realised what Anderson was about to do.
Over my dead body he thought fiercely.
Forcing his eyes open again he shifted his head ever so slightly and saw John's journal lying a few inches away. He moved his hand, so slowly, and managed to pull it towards him.
Suddenly he heard Anna's voice again and it was all the distraction he needed. Forcing himself up onto his elbow, he scanned the page with a single glance and saw where Sam had reached.
It was all he needed.
Dean's voice sounded like hell but it was the sweetest noise Sam had ever heard. His brother croaked out the last few lines of latin perfectly and Sam saw from the corner of his eye the shadow suddenly fly towards them.
"No!" Anderson cried but it was too late.
Wind suddenly howled through the apartment, forcing Sam to close his eyes, and Anderson's anguished screams seemed to go on forever. And then suddenly it stopped. Sam sagged as control of his body became his again and he opened his eyes, his gaze frantically going to Dean.
He slammed to his knees beside his brother, not caring about the jolt of pain that caused him. Dean had slumped back to the ground again and his eyes were closed, but as Sam gently put his hand on his face he opened them again.
"Dean?" said Sam, his voice still trembling and Dean looked up at him with a tired smirk.
"Who said I was no good with latin?"