The Thorn Within

A Supernatural Fanfiction by Merrie

Disclaimer: How I wish the lovely Winchester boys belonged to me! But alas, they belong to Eric Kripke and all associated. Those selfish bastards!

Summary: What happens when a skirt chaser like Dean is cursed to become an incubus? Will he be able to fight his nature or will he give in to the darkness he now holds within? And how will Sam deal with the consequences?

Author's Note: Sorry this wasn't up sooner! My computer unfortunately crashed and I couldn't get on it to write. No fun, let me tell you. Thank you for your continued patience and I will valiently try to get ahead again in my chapters so I can post more often.

Rating: M for violence, naughty language and sexual content.

I am the secret
I am the sin
I am the guilty
I am the thorn within

'The Thorn Within' by Metallica

Chapter Nine

Dean couldn't remember a time when he had felt more like curling up into a ball on the floor and just letting the earth open up to swallow him whole. Not even on the terse and silent ride home with Pastor Jim after he had been picked up at the police station for a DUI. He sat on the couch alone, Sam in a recliner off to the side and Bobby sitting in a borrowed kitchen chair across from him. Both men were eying him as expecting him to grow horns and a forked tongue at any moment. He knew Sam didn't really mean to, but he had no doubt in his mind that every gesture Bobby made towards him was cool and calculated. It was clear they were waiting for him to speak, to tell his story from the beginning. Sam already knew most if not all of the details and could have given the story himself but it was clear he was keeping his silence in preference to Bobby.

Bobby himself didn't even creak in the old wooden kitchen chair as he sat with utter stillness, his arms resting in his lap instead of crossing his chest which would have tied up his hands surely as Dean's were tied up now. Dean had no delusions that Bobby wouldn't have the blade of a very sharp knife to his throat or a gun to his head should he make a single wrong move. Dean wondered briefly if this was what Meg had felt like last year when they had had her tied up in this very house. He had cautiously avoided the devil's trap however, not wanting to find out whether or not it worked on him right now. There were some things that were simply better off not known.

Still Bobby watched him, clearly waiting for something whether it be for Dean to start speaking or for his head to spin full around and pea soup to come spewing out of his mouth, he didn't know. He knew he should probably start speaking, knowing that no one else would do it for him and that he wouldn't be allowed to leave until he did, but for perhaps the first time in his twenty-seven years of life he couldn't think of a thing to say. He just sat there alone in the middle of a musty smelling brown couch wondering how it had come to this. The thing was, he still didn't know. Perhaps that was why he was having such a hard time speaking; he simply didn't have the answers. He had no idea how this had happened to him, how this could have happened to him. Bobby had made it clear before he had even set foot inside the house that he had never once heard of a situation quite like the one Dean found himself in now. This stole his voice away more effectively than one of the Gentlemen.

Aside from a quicker temper and an inability to cross salt lines, there was nothing on the outside to suggest that anything had happened to him. He thought he would have remembered some high-level demon or whatever cursing him for all eternity to be a demon himself. Then again, was he really a demon? He didn't know. He didn't really know anything beyond the fact that he was afflicted with sudden…urges from time to time and he couldn't quite remember if those were new or not. He wanted to ask if there was some way to test for sure whether he really was an incubus or not, but deep within the pit of his stomach he knew no test was needed. He was an incubus. His body knew it but his mind still argued. Just like he argued against how long he had been…afflicted. By the signs it seemed as if this were a recent thing with Anne and Cindy being his first and only victims thus far, but for some reason that didn't sit right with him. He couldn't explain it, but claiming that seemed like claiming a lie as the truth. He just couldn't do it.

He didn't want to believe that he had mutilated those girls either; he wanted to believe Sam's arguments for him. The evidence was pretty compelling that he wasn't guilty but that didn't bring him an ounce of relief. So what if he wasn't mutilating the girls he slept with? That didn't mean that he wasn't killing them beforehand. And that meant that he had some sort of monster on his tail that he had never once caught hide or hair of. No, the knowledge of such innocence brought no comfort with it at all.

He looked up to see Sam fidgeting in his chair against the wall, giving him looks and gestures as if to say 'hurry the hell up, would you? we haven't got all day.' Dean kept his expression fixed and his face free of emotion and opened his mouth to tell his story. "I can't cross salt lines any more." God, admitting this was like dry-swallowing razorblades. Saying such things out loud to Sam was one thing, but to share them with Bobby as well… Truth was agony and agony was truth.

"What happens when you try?" Bobby asked straight up. Clearly he wasn't just going to give Dean encouraging nods without speaking as he confessed his sins. He was definitely going for the jugular.

"It's like the lore of what happens to poltergeists or ghosts when they try. I have to count the grains and I can't. I'm compelled to keep counting and yet each time I do it's as if the numbers are yanked from my head and I can't keep going until I start over from the beginning. This happens over and over again until the circle's eventually broken."

Bobby nodded. "And holy water? Have you tried that?" the question was directed at Sam this time.

Sam nodded, thankfully not wussing out on him with silence as he went on to explain. "I tried it when Dean was unconscious, thinking he was possessed, but it had no effect."

"Well clearly he's not possessed," Bobby said with a frown and a shake of his head. "Your Daddy really should have taught you to tell the difference but he was never any good at it either. Not that he liked being told as much." The room fell silent once more as each man was envisioning their own version of their friend and father. "I take it you didn't try an exorcism ritual then?"

Sam blinked. "Well no. You just said he wasn't possessed. What difference would an exorcism make?" Dean turned from Sam to Bobby, curious to hear the answer, half wishing that they weren't speaking about him as if he weren't in the room and half glad that he wasn't the sole focus of Bobby's interrogation.

"You should never ever take an exorcism lightly but in a situation like this when you don't know exactly what's going on it can't hurt to try, now can it? We'll try one after you've finished telling me everything." His eyes never left Dean as he answered Sam's question.

Dean tried very hard not to blanch at the thought of undergoing an exorcism, how he would react being another one of those things he'd rather not know. He managed to sit without reactions in the chair save for the slightest clenching of his jaw. He didn't bother trying to argue, knowing that he would be outvoted two to one. He took a breath and continued. "I don't know when it started, exactly. I slept with some girl a few nights ago and Sam claimed I looked as if I had slept a month when I came back. The same thing happened the other night with another girl and with the fact that I couldn't cross the salt lines he came up with the idea that I might be an incubus. We went back to locate the girls to find out and they were both dead."

"But we don't think that Dean killed them," Sam was quick to intervene. "He couldn't have. He came back to the motel right after both times and there wasn't a drop of blood on him. Not to mention Cindy's blood was still warm, Dean. It wouldn't have still been warm if you had killed her an hour before hand."

Bobby leaned back in his chair, his eyes unreadable beneath the combined threat of his bushy eyebrows and ever-present hat. "Go on. There's clearly more to this than you're telling me, Dean so just get on with it."

Dean looked as if he wanted to respond to Sam's sudden idea in which he had to be exonerated from all crimes within Sam's mind but he continued his story as Bobby asked. "I think it started more recently than with the two women." He could feel Sam's eyes quickly falling upon him but he didn't turn his gaze away from Bobby. "I can't explain why I feel this way or how I know, I just do."

"What about the salt lines? That's recent, right? Surely you would have noticed something like that before," Bobby offered, showing for the first time since they had been invited into his house that perhaps he was willing to believe the best of Dean rather than the worst, all things considered.

Dean nodded. "As far as I know it's new but I can't be sure. Look, I know it doesn't make a lot of sense. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me either. It's just a feeling."

Bobby seemed to accept this for now. "And the ropes? I take it that Sam didn't put those there just for fun?"

"He wishes," Dean muttered on reflex before frowning and considering Bobby's question. "I don't always have control," he said at last, resolutely not shifting in the couch under the weight of Bobby's stare.

"Damn it, Dean," Bobby said suddenly very nearly causing Dean to start in his seat. "If you expect my help then you've got to be straight with me. Cut the crap. Either tell your story straight without all of this goddamned pussyfooting around or get the hell out of my house."

Dean stared at him, his jaw clenching. "I am telling my story, Bobby," he muttered. "And I'm not goddamned pussyfooting around."

"Well it sure doesn't look that way to me. It looks like you're sitting there waiting for your little brother to tell the story so you can just sit there looking sorry for yourself. Are you a coward, Dean? Is that why you're being such a damn wuss about this? Because that's what you look like. You look like a scared little boy all alone on that couch crying for his Daddy. Isn't that what he looks like, Sam?"

Sam just sat and stared in abject horror at what was happening. What the hell was going on? Was he the only one not possessed or controlled by whatever ghost or demon? What the hell was Bobby doing? There was clearly something very wrong going on. "Sure, Bobby," he answered hesitantly, readily agreeing to whatever Bobby said right now because it was clear not saying what the man wanted to hear could be dangerous. Especially as Dean was tied up and unable to offer direct help.

Bobby sneered and nodded, satisfied, turning back to Dean. "You hear that? Even Sammy over there thinks you're a coward, Dean."

The smile that crossed Dean's face was cold and bloodthirsty. "I'm going to rip that glib tongue from your skull, Bobby. You won't be able to scream after that but I swear you'll want to."

Sam was on his feet to put a stop to this because it was clear that Dean had been pushed over the edge, but he wasn't nearly fast enough as Dean launched himself off of the couch towards Bobby, knocking them both to the ground. It seemed as if Bobby had been waiting for such a reaction however, for he flipped Dean off of him with a fluid movement, regaining his feet and pointing the nearby shotgun at Dean's chest before Dean could attack him again.

"Bobby, don't!" Sam breathed frantically, praying he wasn't about to watch his brother take a chest full of buckshot right before his eyes.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean drawled in a sneering voice as he regained his footing, standing before Bobby seemingly without a care in the world for the shotgun aimed at his chest. "He won't shoot. He hasn't got the balls."

Bobby ignored the taunt, not about to play into the demon who was looking back at him with Dean's eyes' game. "There's a bag of salt behind your chair, Sam. Grab it and pour a circle around your brother. I'd force him into the devil's trap on the ceiling but I don't want to have to break it to let him out again. It was a hell of a thing to get it up there in the first place." If Sam was amused by Bobby's smirking pun, he didn't show it. He simply grabbed the bag of rock salt as directed and moved towards his brother, warily eying all three of them: Dean, Bobby and the shotgun.

Sam and Dean shared a look as he opened the bag of salt and it was clear he was no longer looking at his brother. Whatever Bobby's intentions had been—he didn't seemed to be possessed now—whether it be to get Dean to give him a straight answer or to see just how much it took before Dean "lost control," it was clear that they were going to have to deal with this now.

"Do it and I'll peel the skin from your face and rub that salt in the wound," Dean hissed, eying Sam as he started the salt circle coldly. It was clear he wanted to move; not wanting to be a willing prisoner but by Bobby's smug grin it was also clear that the shotgun he held in his hands was loaded not with buckshot but with rock salt. He was fucked either way. "I'm going to kill you both," he growled. "You'll be begging me to end it once I'm through." He snickered wickedly for a moment, causing Sam to frown at the sudden change in mood. "It's a pity you led such a good life, Sammy," he mocked. "You'll likely go to heaven when you die. But you know as well as I do that Heaven's not where Mom and your pretty little Jess are right now. They're in hell, Sam. They're burning and screaming in hell and you'll never see either of them again. Hey, at least she has Dad with her, right? Although I'm not sure how much help he'll be. He was a coward in life and it's clear he'll be a coward in death as well. He's probably just standing by and watching as your pretty little girlfriend is being banged by old Satan himself." Dean just laughed and laughed as Bobby stepped in before Sam could knock his older brother to the floor with a flurry of enraged fists and feet.

Bobby cursed silently under his breath for letting Dean go on for so long. He had forgotten that Sam wasn't as used to demon possessions as he was. He had heard it all before. He had grown immune to the kind of shit that came out of the mouths of the possessed once they got going. It was clear that Sam hadn't developed that yet. "On second thought, forget the circle, Sam. That usually brings him back, right?" He didn't wait for Sam's response, trusting his intuition for the answer. "I don't want him back just yet. I want to have a little chat with this thing. Grab his feet. We're going to put him in the trap. I can always redraw the edge."

Dean hissed and snarled as he was lifted into the air without trouble, thrashing as best he could and spitting out curses and bloody promises of what he'd do to the two men carrying him into the other room. It was to no avail however. He was outnumbered two to one by men bent on seeing him suffer. He would rip the bones from their bodies.

"That's it. He's in," Bobby declared, dropping Dean to the ground beneath the trap with a grunt, pulling Sam out beyond the edge of the circle in case he got the bright idea in his head to stick around and make sure his brother was alright. Bobby admired the trait, but there was a time and place for everything and right now, Dean was the enemy. "Now we find out if this thing will keep him in—" Bobby was cut off by an enraged roar as Dean beat his fists against the invisible barrier the circle provided. Bobby could only stare as the skin of Dean's hands was compressed, as if he really was pushing against a glass wall that only they could pass through. It was good to know he wasn't faking it. On the other hand, it meant…

"Dean's a demon. He's really a demon," Sam whispered in abject horror. "These things, these Devil's Traps, they only work on demons, right? Oh God."

Bobby had never wanted to lie to Sam more than he did right now. He wanted to clap Sam on the shoulder with a shake of his head and assure him that the traps were good for all your supernatural hunting needs. He didn't want to have to tell this kid not even months after his Daddy's death that his brother was now one of the damned as sure as they were standing here watching him. "People don't just become full demons, Sam. It's unnatural and something did this to him. And if something did this to him, then the chances are good that that same something can turn him back."

Sam didn't respond to that, his jaw and eyes hardening in tandem. "Why did you do this? Why did you push him? Was it just to see him break? Is that it? Is that why he's in that fucking thing right now?"

Whoa. Ok, it was clear Sam was upset here, but Bobby wasn't the bad guy. "You brought him to me so I could find out what's wrong with him, Sam. I'm doing my job," he said evenly, not wanting to irritate Sam further but honestly not having time to coddle him over the choices he had made now.

"Your job," Sam growled irritably. "I am so goddamned tired of people justifying the things they do because it's their job. You didn't do this for Dean. You did this because Bobby the demon expert wanted to poke and prod at my brother just to see what makes him tick."

"If you don't want my help then just go," Bobby growled in return with a scowl. "You came to me, remember? I didn't ask to have your demon of a brother dropped on my goddamned door step. Now you can either shut the hell up and let me do things my way in order to help you, or you can get the hell out."

Sam clenched his jaw and fists in tandem but didn't say a word as he fought to catch ahold of his breath.

"Looks like little Sammy doesn't like being given orders," Dean mocked from inside the trap. "Do you, Sam? No, you like doing things your own way and to hell with the consequences. But that's only because you're a coward and a control freak. You can't stand to follow. You have to be in charge or else the world ends. Poor little Sammy."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam muttered, glaring at his older brother. "You don't know what you're talking about." He turned back to Bobby, fighting to ignore his brother's mocking responses. "Explain this to me, Bobby," he said evenly, trying to see things from Bobby's point of view. "You clearly want to talk to Dean while he's like this, but why? You said he wasn't possessed. You're not talking to anyone but Dean. You're not going to find out anything that Dean couldn't have told you if you had just asked him. So tell me why. Tell me why you forced me into having to deal with him like this again if not just for your own amusement."

"We've already learned that he can't pass the Devil's Trap, Sam," Bobby pointed out rationally, his voice forcibly cool and collected to match Sam's.

"And what did that accomplish? We know he's a demon. Fine. So what? That doesn't help us!" Sam began to pace a short circuit to Bobby's side, dutifully avoiding and ignoring his brother in the trap. Dean was going on about something or other but Bobby was only half listening, attempting to glean the more telling facts from the usual demonic bullshit.

"Do you expect me to have all the answers for you, Sam? Because I sure as hell don't! I've never even heard of a situation like this let alone witness one! So we're left with Dean and what he knows."

"He doesn't know anything else! We already told you everything!" Sam insisted breathlessly, desperate for Bobby to have the answers he clearly didn't. They didn't have anyone else to turn to. If Bobby didn't know how to help Dean then no one would. Sam would just have to figure out a way to help his brother himself.

"He doesn't have any answers for you, Sammy," Dean mocked, his words finally getting through amongst the shouting as Bobby hesitated. "He's the only one of Dad's friends left alive and you know what? Do you want to know why the demon killed Caleb and Pastor Jim and left you alive, Bobby? It's because you're worthless. You weren't worth killing. You haven't got a clue and Sam knows it but poor Sammy, you're the only one he has. You wouldn't even begin to know what to do with me. Coming here was a waste of time. Now let me the fuck out of this goddamned thing."

There was a moment's silence after that, just long enough for Dean to smirk and snicker, his lips twisted into a cruel smile as his taunts were obviously taken to heart.

"Perform the exorcism, Bobby," Sam said finally, offering no reassurances whatsoever as to Bobby's worth in regards to the yellow-eyed demon. "Dean's here, trapped, so just do it. I don't know if it will help but we don't really have any other choice."

"What? You treacherous bastard!" Dean hissed, pounding his fists against the barrier created by the Devil's Trap in frustration. "You're just going to let Mr. Useless here lay some mojo on me without even knowing what the fuck it will do? Have you ever actually seen this jackass perform an exorcism before? He doesn't know what the hell he's doing!"

Sam turned a level look in his brother's direction. "If it was really my brother speaking right now instead of the demon that's controlling him, you'd agree with me; you'd let Bobby perform the exorcism without comment." Well, that wasn't completely true. Dean may be good at following orders, but he also had a master's degree in bitching and moaning. He'd do whatever it is you wanted him to do, but only after making you feel sorry for asking in the first place.

"And if you were really my brother then you wouldn't be so ready to send me to hell!" Dean shot back, his eyes filled with betrayal and rage.

"I'm not going to send you to hell, Dean," Sam argued in annoyance.

"Oh yeah? And what does an exorcism do, Sam? What is its chief purpose? To send demons back to hell! And as we've recently found out, I'm a demon!"

"People don't just become demons, Dean. Not even the yellow-eyed bastard can be here in the flesh. I don't care what you say, I don't care what Bobby says. You're possessed and I'm going to send the bastard controlling you screaming straight back to hell." Sam's jaw and eyes were set with this declaration and it was clear he truly believed in what he was saying. He wasn't just making up a line to reassure Dean. "Grab the most powerful exorcism book you have Bobby, and any other supplies we'll need."

"Just be careful, Sam. Demon or not, that's still your brother in there," Bobby said as he handed him a heavy tome from the middle of one of the tall stacks of books scattered throughout the room. "I know you don't believe me, but I still say he isn't possessed. What he's saying might actually be true. You're risking the chance of sending your brother to hell, Sam. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Give me another option and I'll more than happy to try it," Sam murmured, not looking up from the book as he read over the 'Ritus Exorcizandi Obsessos a Daemonio.' He then went on speaking as if Bobby had never asked the question. "We already know that holy water's useless against him but hopefully this won't be," he murmured, balancing the book on his forearm as he held up a long beaded rosary with his free hand.

"Are you going to lead it or am I?" Bobby asked evenly. If they were going to do this, then they were going to do it right.

"I'll lead, you can read the responses," Sam murmured after a brief moment's thought. If anyone was going to do this to Dean, it was going to be him. "But the minute anything goes wrong we're stopping." The instruction was for Bobby but he met Dean's eyes when he said it.

"Save your worthless reassurances," Dean hissed. "See you in hell, little brother."

Sam couldn't help but flinch at the utter hatred in his brother's voice but quickly shook it off. When Dean was himself again, he'd be thanking him for performing the exorcism. Until then, he'd put up with Dean's threats and growled insults and stinging barbs. He pushed all doubt and insecurity about performing an exorcism against his own brother and what the consequences would be—going into an exorcism with an unsure heart and mind would surely end in disaster—and opened his mouth to speak.

"Ne reminiscaris, Domine, delicate nostra, vel parentum nostrorum: neque vindictam sumas de peccatis nostris," He gave the invocation in a strong voice, calling upon God and all the saints and angels in heaven for guidance as Bobby whispered the Lord's Prayer in Latin at his side. He waited until he and Bobby spoke the 'and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil," before continuing on with the 53rd psalm.

"Salvum fac servum tuum," he called out, asking God to save His servant.

"Deus meus, sperantem in te."

"Esto ei, Domine, turris fortitundinis."

"A facie inimci," Bobby responded, his voice strong to match Sam's as together they asked God to grant Dean the strength to fight.

"Nihil proficiat inimicus in eo."

"Et fillius iniquitatis non apponant nocere ei."

"Mitte ei, Domine, auxillium de sancto."

"Et de Sion tuere eum."

"Domine, exaudi orationem meam."

"Et clamor meus ad te veniat."

"Dominus vobiscum."

"Et cum spiritu tuo," Bobby ended the invocation and both of them glanced at Dean to see how he was holding up before continuing.

All throughout the invocation, Dean had been pacing the confines of his circular prison back and forth, back and forth, searching for some way to escape what could not be escaped. So far he didn't feel any different at all, giving no thought toward the two men except to try and follow what they were saying as practice for his admittedly rusty Latin, but he knew once they started addressing him personally, or rather the demon they thought was possessing him, then the real fun would start. He ignored their prayers and invocations for the protection of his soul and blah, blah, blah and waited for the blows to come. He didn't have to wait long.

Sam took a deep breath and seemed to gain a few inches in height as he prepared to speak directly to the demon; to command it to leave and never return. "Praecipio tibi, quicumque es, spiritus immude, et omnibus sociis tuis hunc Dei famulum obsidentiubus: ut per mysteria incarnationis, passionis, resurrectionis, et ascensionis Domini nostril Jesu Christi, per missionem Spiritus Sancti, et per adventum ejusdem Domnini ad judicium, dicas mihi nomen tuum, diem, et horam exitus tui, cum aliquot signo: et ut mihi Dei ministro licet indigno, prorsus in omnibus obedias: neque hanc creaturam Dei, vel circumstantes, aut eorum bona ullo modo offendas.

Dean was sure that if he had been able to force his eyes open long enough to look down at his belly, he would have seen barbed hooks trying to pull him inside out. That was what it felt like, anyway. It felt like something was doing its best to yank his…well, soul or essence or whatever out of his belly and up through his mouth, but he kept choking on the results. He wasn't about to beg for mercy though. These two bastards who had once called themselves his blood and his friend could do whatever the hell they wanted to him. It wouldn't do any good. He'd find a way out of this accursed circle even if he had to lie and cheat his way back into Sam's trust. And then when they finally started to believe he was 'cured' he'd strike. He just had to hold out until then…

Sam refused to let any doubt enter his mind about how Dean didn't seem to be getting any better throughout the reading of the first part of the exorcism. He refused to believe that this wouldn't work; that it wouldn't free his brother from whatever demon was calling his body home and return him back to his old, annoying self. He would continue to refuse to let doubt gain a hold in his mind until the exorcism was finished and Dean remained unchanged. Until then he would keep reading the Bible verses and the commands to the demon within and pray for the best.

Bobby kept his eyes on Dean as Sam read from the Gospels of John, Mark and Luke, watching for any signs of change or reaction to the spoken words. He had seen and participated in more exorcisms than either Winchester could even imagine, but there was just something different about this one. He, like Sam, prayed that it would work and that Dean would be freed, but he was prepared for what would have to happen next if it didn't.

"Domine, exaudi orationem meam," Sam finished the readings, asking the Lord to hear his prayers.

"Et clamor meus ad te veniat," Bobby responded in turn.

"Dominus vobiscum," Sam whispered reverently, giving the first part of the blessing.

"Et cum spiritu tuo," Bobby responded in matched tones.

The Sam bowed his head and prepared to pray. Once he had finished he looked up and his eyes locked with Dean's. He would finish this; he would free his brother from this demon one way or another. He only hoped that the next stage of the exorcism would do its work and that God would grant him strength. He knew that Dean didn't really believe in God even when he wasn't possessed by a demon, but Sam had always and would continue to believe enough for the both of them.

"Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus, omnis incursion adversarii, omne phantasma, omnis legio, in nominee Domini nostril Jesu," He made the sign of the cross, "Christi eradicare, et effugare ab hoc plasmate Dei." He made the sign of the cross again, his voice rising with determination and reverence, "Ipse tibi imperat, qui te supernis caelorum in inferiora terrae demergi praecepit. Ipse tibi imperat, qui mari, ventis, et tempestatibus imperavit. Audi ergo, et time, satana, inimice fidei, hostis generic humani, mortis adductor, vitae raptor, justitiae declinator, malorum radix, formes vitiorum, seductor hominum, proditor genitum, incitator invidiae, orio avaritiae, causa diccordiae, excitatory dolorum: quid stas, et resistis, cum scias, Christum Dominum vias tuas perdere? Illum metue, qui in Issac immolatus est, in Joseph venumdatus, in argon occius, im homine crucifixus, decinde ingerni triumphator fuit."

Sam took a breath and stepped wholly into the circle where Dean still stood, knowing that if this didn't work Dean could and likely would try and kill him. But he had faith and he didn't have a choice.

Dean watched, unable to move, unable to react as Sam traced the sign of the cross over his forehead once with every call to God and command to Satan and all his devils. His breath was coming too quick in his chest now, and spots danced before his eyes as he fought tooth and nail to get ahold of himself. It was a fight he was going to lose as the hooks that had been painfully tugging at his soul suddenly yanked without warning and with more force than he could have ever imagined. The purity of Sam's beliefs and the resoluteness he had that this would work was quickly killing him.

Sam recoiled back in horror as he found himself spattered with a choking cough of hot blood from his brother's mouth. His Latin faltered as he reached out to catch Dean's suddenly boneless form. He hadn't even finished the exorcism and yet this was a clear result that something was going horribly wrong. His eyes flashed to Bobby in fear as he crouched in the middle of the circle, clutching Dean to his chest as his older brother thrashed and flailed about as if his skin were on fire. "B-Bobby?" he called, not knowing what to do or if this was even normal. He could count the actual exorcisms he had preformed in his life on one hand and still have fingers left over.

Bobby was admittedly at as much of a loss as Sam was. He had never seen an exorcism end like that before, especially before it was even through. He didn't say a word, instead moving into the circle at Sam's side, crouching down to place two fingers at Dean's neck, half fearing what he would find. He breathed a sigh of relief to find a pulse there; a little erratic and quicker than it should be especially as Dean seemed to be unconscious, but at least he was still alive. "I don't know, Sam. I've never seen anything like that before."

"I don't know about you, but that sucked," Dean interrupted whatever Sam had been about to respond with, his voice rasping and harsh. "And you could use a breath mint, dude," he murmured, his eyes meeting Sam's as their faces were mere inches away from each other.

"Dean? Are you…are you with us?" Sam asked, both relief and habit paranoia colouring his voice.

"If you're asking if the exorcism worked then no, it didn't. But on the plus side, I don't feel like killing either of you any more," he said with a forced smile that looked grotesque and macabre on blood covered lips.

"Well that's something," Bobby responded wryly. "That's a lot of blood you've lost there, Dean. Tell me straight. Are you going to need a hospital?" Bobby asked directly, knowing Dean wouldn't respond to the question if it were voiced any other way.

"I don't know but I could find out if Francis here would get the hell off of me," he muttered good-naturedly, pushing away from Sam's frantic embrace slowly. Sam frowned but let go of his brother since they were both already on the floor and he couldn't fall any further than that if he tried to again. Dean winced, but he sat upright within the confines of the circle, not able to pass the edges like Sam and Bobby could. "Besides feeling like someone tried to yank my insides to the outside, I'm alright now." He could practically feel Sam start brooding and was quick to continue. "I'm fine Sam, so you can just cut that shit out right now. You did what you had to do. It didn't work but you didn't know that it wouldn't."

"Why didn't it work?" Sam asked slowly, already knowing the answer but not wanting to fully believe it.

Dean attempted to take a deep breath before speaking and came up short with a wince and a grunt. He held up a hand to forestall Sam's worry. "The exorcism didn't work because I'm not possessed by a demon, Sam. I am the demon."

TBC

A/N: I decided to end this scene there because this chapter was already long enough as it was. Look for the next one as soon as I finish writing it. Until then, please review. Thanks.

A/N2: The Latin exorcism rite was directly taken from a real Catholic exorcism rite and while I didn't post any translations of the Latin (the show doesn't either) if you're itching to know what Sammy's saying, drop me a line and I'll get you a link to where I got the whole shebang from.