The warlock felt himself solidifying into the body of Simon Keller. His strength diminished to that of a mortal human, and he lost his grip on his victim. Dean fell heavily to the ground as the warlock struggled to pull free of the restraining body of his vessel but he was firmly caught. His senses diminished to those of a human, he squinted at the lack of color and cringed at the fact he needed to breathe to exist.

He spun to see the younger Winchester stalking toward him, and in an instant he knew his options were limited. He dove for the woman. All her attention was focused on the hex she read. They apparently valued her in some fashion, and he would use that to his advantage.

He wrapped his arm around her neck pulling her off balance and pressed a sharp metal shard from the burned door frame against her throat, drawing just enough blood to show he was in control.

Sam stopped in his tracks as he saw Kim's eyes widen in shock. The spell dropped from her hand and floated slowly to the ground. Their eyes met and Sam saw her expression change from shock to anger to steely calm.

Sam could see what she was thinking, but before he could voice the "NO" forming on his lips, she twisted away from the weapon. She spun the man, sharply inverting his wrist as she brought her arm down cleanly snapping his elbow. He dropped with a wail and she felt the satisfaction of kicking him in the ribs before Sam pushed her aside to lift the man by his hair.

"Let my brother go." Sam said, reaching for the man's throat.

Kim dropped next to Dean to look at his wounds, but as horrific as they had originally appeared they seemed to be superficial and already healing. She ran for a bottle of peroxide and poured it over Deans chest, washing away the blood. A spattering hit his chest and she realized it was her own. She brushed it away without a second thought. Dean was breathing, his heart beat was steady, but he was again in an unnatural sleep. She rolled him onto his side and took off her hoodie to cover him with it. It looked ridiculously small and out of place draped across him. She wondered fleetingly of she would ever see the man awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

Sam dug his hand into the man's fractured elbow with a malicious smile, imagining what his brother had been put through. He turned his head toward Dean and saw Kim leaning over him, again, but this time he caught sight of Kim's blood slowly dripping onto his brother's bare chest. Without thought his fist landed squarely against the warlocks jaw.

O00o0o0oo0o0o0o0o

Dean was back in the quiet place. He could feel air, or was it water, drifting around him, soothing his muscles. Whispered voices hung in the background. He kept them there. A cold rush hit his chest but it wasn't unpleasant. It just was.

His body rolled bonelessly to his side and he considered opening his eyes to see whose hands were on him. He decided against it. His work was done, his penance was done, he liked this place where he drifted between sleep and wake. He realized he always liked it, those few seconds of floating before slipping into a dream. He would just stay here. The world would go on without him, after all no one was indispensable.

0oo0o00o0o0o00o00o

Simon woke on tied to a chair. He suddenly thought of himself as Simon because he was limited by the man. The last warlock wearing the last vessel capable of holding one. Here he was, here they were, tied to a chair in a room above a bar. Demeaning, infuriating! His vessel was damaged, it had been near death for years thanks to the rough use he had put it to, but now he knew when he pulled from the man, there would be no going back. He could not inhabit a corpse.

He closed his eyes and tried to call to a demon, any demon to inhabit the body while he pulled out to vivisect the younger Winchester. The thought brought a pleased grimace to his face. He forced the bones to slowly realign and knit together in his arm.

No demon answered his call.

He saw Sam lift his brother onto the bed in the center of the room. For all intents and purposes the man was dead. His body lived but his mind was gone. He would love to carve the tattoo from the man's chest and slide into him. If he could host an archangel he could certainly hold a warlock. What a magnificent vessel Dean Winchester would make. He would make it happen.

He could start a dynasty in that vessel. Plans twisted in his head. No one saw the satisfied smile creep across his face.

He felt a cold dread pass over him as Sam pulled a charm out of his pocket. He hoisted his brother into a sitting position and dropped the cord around his neck. When the pewter talisman hit the man's chest he felt shards of the old magic fill the room.

He wouldn't have it. The old magic was gone forever, he had crushed it himself. It just couldn't be.