Holy cow, I hadn't realized just how long this story had become. Wow. Anyways, never fear it is almost over :) just a couple of chapters left! I hope you enjoy this one!
Oh and wish me luck - by a fluke I found out where Supernatural is filming on Monday night and I am going to go and watch. Unfortunately the scene is being filmed in a bar, but I can hope to catch a glimpse of the boys when they leave, can't I? Phoenix
Close Encounters
"The wraith that attacked you," John addressed Laura, "it didn't go anywhere." His jaw twitched. "It's inside Sammy…"
Dean hurried back into the kitchen with a long coil of thin, strong rope.
"We've got to exorcise him…"
Dean dropped the rope.
"Or kill him."
Chapter 28
For a moment no one said anything, the weight of John's pronouncement hanging heavily like the death sentence it might very well be.
The Hardys were stunned and even Dean had paled, though he didn't look as shocked. Surprisingly, it was Laura who reacted first.
Eluding her sons' attempt to restrain her, Laura pushed herself between John's gun and Fenton, her hands on her hips and her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "No one will be killing anyone in my house," her tone warned as she addressed John specifically, "do you got that?"
"Dad…" Dean attempted to interfere, his fondness for the courageous woman making him want to ensure she didn't get shot. John quieted him with hardly a glance.
Fenton wrapped an arm around his wife and tried to pull her back but Laura fought him, her eyes never once leaving the armed man's face. "I said, 'do you got that'?" she repeated, more slowly this time.
Amusement warred with a much deeper emotion on John's face. He addressed Fenton. "Don't ever let her go," he said softly and then nodded to the petite woman. "I got that."
"Good," she asserted, "now do you want to put that gun down so we can talk about this like civilized people?"
John actually seemed to consider that – for a half a second. "Nope. Now if you'll behave like good little boys and girl, we'll get this over with quickly and be on our way."
"Dean," Joe implored the middle Winchester. His vibrant blue eyes begged the young hunter to stop this but Dean refused to look at him, preferring instead to lean down and pick up the rope again.
"This is insane," Fenton erupted, "you can't seriously be considering tying that boy up!"
John held his glare but didn't answer him, instead talking over his shoulder to his older son. "Secure your brother, Dean."
"You're crazy," Fenton barked and started to move towards John. The hunter fired into the wall behind him.
Laura smothered a small cry as both Frank and Joe flinched – badly startled by the noise and the unexpectedness of the shot.
"I don't have time for this crap," John growled impatiently. "Next shot ventilates…" He waited until he saw Fenton physically stand down and then he nodded, "Good. Now, Mr. Homeowner, drop your gun to the floor and kick it towards me – slowly. Laura," again another apologetic look, "move back with your sons please."
Behind them, Dean spoke softly to his brother, apologizing under his breath even as he quickly tied Sam's hands behind his back and then lashed his legs together. He tugged on the knots. They were tight.
"Circle of salt," John reminded, somehow knowing when his son had finished the bindings. He kicked the gun back towards Dean when Fenton complied.
Mutely the younger hunter followed the order.
"Does your basement have a back door or a window large enough to crawl out of?" the senior Winchester addressed Laura. Fenton opened his mouth to protest but John shook his head and repeated. "Laura? Does your basement have a back door or a window large enough to crawl out of?"
Laura shook her head. "No."
Satisfied with the answer, John tipped his head and just said, "Basement."
Understanding what the man wanted, Fenton ushered Laura and his sons' towards the basement door.
Joe paused as he passed the armed hunter. "Don't hurt him," his words were soft but beseeching, leaving no doubt that he considered the Winchester brothers as friends.
The muscle in John's jaw twitched and something akin to anguish washed across his face, gone quickly. He just gave a curt nod but promised nothing.
John followed Fenton to the door and then waited while the family went down the stairs before he closed it and then moved a chair in under the knob, effectively locking the Hardys in their own basement.
…
"Dad?" Frank questioned quietly, "Now what do we do?"
Fenton cast a furtive glance at the closed door. He frowned, his brow wrinkled in consideration and then he moved towards his wife. Laura was already rubbing her arms in the cool basement air and he pulled her close. "Now," he said, making a judgment call. "Now we wait."
It was nothing the astute detective could put his finger on, but there was just something about John Winchester that Fenton recognized in himself….And he hoped he was right because if he wasn't, Sam might just pay with his life.
…
Silently Dean watched over his brother as his father got the holy water and herbs they needed for the ritual. He didn't like this one bit. It went against his every instinct to see his brother trussed up…but as much as he hated it, he trusted his father more.
John would die for Sam. For either of them. And he would do everything within his power to save Sam. Dean knew that but it still chilled him to the very soul that Sam was in this position to begin with.
He never should have left his brother here. Exhaling loudly, the young man spoke wearily as he scrubbed at his face. "Trust you to fuck up 'normal…'"
"Dean," John's voice, suddenly loud beside him, jerked Dean's attention towards the older man. His father must have seen something past his son's stoic mask because his tone softened when he continued, "Ancient Latin or holy water?"
The younger hunter blinked in shock. His father was giving him the choice of what part of the ritual he wanted to handle? That was a first.
Normal protocol was that John dictated, Dean – or Sam – followed.
"Uh," he hedged for a moment and then blurted out, "holy water." If Sam got violent, which was most likely, Dean would rather be the one to restrain him. John hadn't seen Sam's bruised torso yet and could end up inadvertently further injuring him. That was what Dean told himself anyway. Though if he was honest, the young hunter would admit that he felt guilty for Sam being possessed in the first place, and was punishing himself with the much more emotionally difficult job as penance. He figured he owed the kid that much….
John nodded and passed the blessed vial to Dean.
Then after carefully sprinkling a meticulously selected and mixed assortment of herbs and wildflowers over Sam, John plucked a small black and badly worn notebook from his coat pocket and flipped it open to a dog-eared page.
His dark eyes lingered briefly over his youngest son and then he nodded to Dean. Holy water would start it.
Uncorking the vial, the young hunter dipped his fingers into the water and then crouched down next to his brother. He cast one final furtive glance up at his father and then quickly made the sign of a cross on his brother's forehead—
And so it began.
…
"I don't get it," Joe admitted as he paced restlessly in the large basement. Waiting didn't sit well with him.
"Get what?" Frank asked as he leaned back against an old workbench, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his normally active brother.
"What's up with Dean," the blond teen clarified. "He's like a completely different person with his father around!"
"Most boys are," Laura commented as her gaze flickered towards the closed door. She was pressed into Fenton's warmth as they stood next to Frank.
Joe glanced at her and then at his father. "We need to do something." He couldn't understand why Fenton was making them wait.
"My first priority is my family," the detective told his impetuous son.
"We're safe," the blond teen countered and ignored the amused look that his brother shot him as he teased:
"We need to work on your definition of 'safe', little brother."
"My second priority is finding out what has been happening since I've been gone."
Joe paled. "Oh, that."
"Yeah," Fenton's dark brown eyes tracked the seventeen year old. "That."
Frank smirked at his brother, obviously anticipating the impending joy of watching Joe squirm through another 'interrogation'.
"Frank?" the detective turned his attention towards his older son.
Joe cocked an eyebrow as all the blood drained from Frank's face—
"You want to tell me what's been going on?"
An earsplitting shriek answered.
…
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Dean cursed as Sam bucked and writhed away from him. As soon as he had touched his holy water-dampened fingers to his brother's forehead, the younger hunter had reacted, and Dean had actually forgotten just how strong a possessed person could be, until right now.
Shrieking, Sam struggled to get loose—
John started to read—
Dean used his full body weight to try and pin his brother—
John's voice rose over the commotion—
Sam's eyes flashed open. Seething red.
Dean recoiled. The intensity of hatred burned.
For one brief second, Sam's hazel eyes extinguished the red as the teen struggled to surface from beneath the wraith.
"Fight, damnit!" Dean yelled at his brother, encouraging Sam to resist. "Fight!"
John was shouting now—
Hazel eyes held an apology but before Dean could comprehend, the red was back and the hunter was being thrown through the air.
Dean heard his father shout his name, and then his head struck something hard and he was out.
His last thought was that they'd failed….His father would have to kill Sammy.
TBC
