Another chapter, nice long one for you guys.
And a couple of days late, through conflicting schedules, I'm bumping the update back to Wednesday. Not a big deal, just to make sure that its not late.
This I hope makes all of you happy. It was fun, well interesting, to write.
Grief's Possession
Chapter Four: In Your Mind
Mesmerized by the ominous gaze captivating his sight, Dean did not feel their father's well used and worn journal drop from the flaccid grip of his hands; did not feel the cool air around him whip with the presence of the eleven vengeful spirits. He could only feel, only see the cold vengeful glare of the one person, other than his father, whom he always- without question- trusted to watch his back.
The listless inky eyes pierced through to the core of him, holding him rapt and unable to move. The demon's bastardization of his brother's features was undeniably evil. Only one word managed to croak through Dean's drying, frozen lips, "Sam."
A low screeching chuckle passed through the possessed man's tightly pressed lips as a smile twisted its way across the once handsome face. Not an inch of its face resembled Sam's likeness; none of the distant hope, none of the intellect, and none of the goodness remained. Tilting Sam's broad brow down- his longish brown locks rushing to cover his face- its smile twisted deeper as shadows moved in to obscure the mess it was making of Sam's once wistful features. In shocked horror, Dean watched as the spirit tensed the muscles of its host. Leaning away from the rigid body of his possessed brother, the elder Winchester attempted to gather his wits and stay within the circle. Smoothly Sam's body catapulted him to his feet; his body seeming to flow into place. Still gathering his wits, Dean watched in astonished terror as the spirit rolled Sam's head in a semi-circle, relaxing the once tensed muscles. Sneering at the shaken man on the floor, still encased in the circle drawn on the floor, it turned to head for door.
How could Sam have been possessed? He wasn't afraid, wasn't angry, and Dean knew that his brother hadn't hit the bottle in some time. The implications that Sam- who spent nearly every moment with him- had hidden such an emotional rift from him completely floored his brother.
"Where the hell do think you' re going," Dean asked, forcing the words to form and his throat to produce the scratchy sound.
"It is not as I intended to escape my prison," the spirit said sharply; suddenly turning to face Dean standing across from the candle. Abruptly the flame of the candle flared- licking its hot tongues out at Dean- and instinctively he stepped back throwing an arm up to protect his face. Using Sam's quiet voice it murmured, "Nevertheless, I think that I will keep it." It shifted to face the only exit to the room, and tried to step out of the containing circle.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, snaking an arm up to haul his brother's demon inhabited ass back into the ring. Realizing too late that the demon was preparing to fight back, Dean felt it bring Sam's right foot back nearly behind him, and he plunged to the floor, punched strongly in the jaw. The demon glared at him- satisfied- as his grip on Sam's jacket broke. Again it turned and attempted to leave. Focusing his mind on the singular task of stopping that thing from walking off with his little brother's body, Dean shot a leg out connecting solidly with the back of Sam's knee. He couldn't help the smile that etched across his face as the thing in Sam's body let out a growl and dropped in a boneless heap to the hard floor.
Pushing himself from his awkward position on the floor, Dean observed his brother shaking. The black aura lifted partially, and Sam's deep brown eyes turned to Dean, locking onto his hazel ones. "Dean," Sam said in a horse whisper, "run, and get them out of the house…" a scream began to form in his mouth as the entity tightened its grip on him, pulling the black curtain back over Sam's body. "They aren't safe," his voice was little more than a strangled hiss as the words left his mouth.
Furious the demon cried out, "No! I will keep you!" and staggered to his feet.
Rushing up behind Sam, Dean attempted to grab him in an arm lock. Sam rotated and bucked his body once again lifting Dean's feet from the floor, and tossed him- as though he were little more than a rag doll- sideways; his spine connecting firmly with the corner of a desk. All the air rushed out of his lungs and grey spots speckled at the corners of his vision. All he noticed was that he had broken the containment barrier, and that another mass of dark was coming his way in a hurry. As it rushed toward him, Dean did the only thing he had the energy left to do- he swore.
Hovering above Dean, the ghost tugged gently at the soft fabric of his shirt. Feeling slightly helpless and hollow Dean ignored the entity as it swirled and hovered above him. Instead he fixed his dazed eyes in the demon wearing Sam as a jacket, as its fingers closed around the doorknob.
"No," Sam's hand dropped from the cool metal of the knob. "I will not lose this host. That one will try to purge me from it." Turning sharply from the door, Sam crossed the room to where Dean leaned heavily against the desk he'd hit in the scuffle. Plucking Dean's abused body from the floor, the demon in Sam slammed his fist hard into Dean's solar plexus. What little breath Dean had been able to catch was instantly driven from his tired lungs and he sank back to his spot on the floor. Through the fog that was clouding his mind, Dean witnessed the demon prepare for another assault. Just as it brought Sam's foot down for a bone crushing stomp, Dean forced his aching body to roll in the opposite direction. With a loud grunt he forced his already bruised back and abdominal muscles to flip himself to his feet.
"Come on, bitch, that all you got?" Dean shot a smile at the thing inside his brother, trying hard to not all out laugh at the conflicted look he received from it. "What's the matter? Can't decide if you wanna finish me or not? Or is that brother of mine tearing at you from the inside?" Twisting his face in rage, Sam rushed Dean. Side stepping the sudden assault, Dean delivered a swift, hard hit to the back of his brother's neck. Something that would have stopped a bull of a man scarcely fazed the demon. Smiling its twisted smile, it straightened and took an overconfident step toward Dean; dropping its guard, momentarily. Mumbling an "I'm sorry," Dean let fly with a left hook, followed by a quick right uppercut into his little brother's jaw. A sharp, sickening crack filled the air as the demon stumbled back a couple of steps. Smiling through his newly mangled jaw Sam brought his hands to his face. Another crunch filled the air as his jaw snapped back into place.
"I will keep this host, boy," it said, starting towards Dean again. "I cannot feel his pain. I will not be stopped by it. But I assure you Sam's soul is screaming at your torture, though. Stop damaging this body… it will only limit me later. Know that you are assisting me in breaking the resident mind, and for that I will give you a quick death," it said, perverting Sam's voice as it spoke through a broken jaw. Dean couldn't help but wince with pain every time it forced Sam's jaw to move.
"Ya know, I'd really like to believe that. You might not be stopped by pain, but I'm not letting you walk out that door to hurt innocent people. Not over my dead body." Dean said dropping his aching body easily into a fighting stance.
"We seem to agree." It smiled as it lashed a fist out at Dean. Moving as fast as he could Dean attempted to dodge the blow. A low growl escaped him as his head snapped back and to the side from the blow landing solidly behind his ear. While it had Dean reeling from the first strike, the demon in Sam quickly brought its left fist up to hit Dean with an uppercut of its own. Staggering backwards, Dean regained his balance and caught Sam's arm; quickly twisting it behind the younger man's back. The elder Winchester struggled with his brother as Sam's tall frame thrashed around trying to get free of Dean's adrenaline powered assault. Wrapping his forearm around Sam's neck, Dean did the one thing he didn't want to and squeezed.
Its voice choked past Sam's lips, "Let go fool, you are killing us! I will go back to the shadows! I warn you, I will return!" A violent tremor tore through Sam's body as the demon exited him, and then fell slack against Dean's grip.
Heart pounding in his chest, Dean lowered his brother to the floor. He didn't just…his brother? He couldn't even bring himself to say or think the word kill; couldn't allow the questions to form in his mind. Tilting his brother's head back, Dean listened. A faint rattling wheeze stung his ears, sounding as good to him as a choir of angels singing "Halleluiah." Sighing in relief he righted himself. With a shaky hand Dean reached up to touch his face, when a small splash of clear liquid fell into the middle of Sam's forehead.
"Oh, God…I…I'm sorry," he choked out quickly running his hands over his eyes to wipe away the tears dampening his face. "Fuck, am I sorry. I…I couldn't let you…I couldn't let it leave here…not…" his voice trailed off as he remembered the spirits still trapped with them in the room, needing to be released. He moved to stand, only to discover that his legs wouldn't support him. And suddenly he became aware, in a crashing wave, all of the places he'd been hit. His body started to tremble, and his back shot spikes of pain out in all directions. Beginning to feel cold he shook his head and thought wryly, "that's shock for you."
Slowly the door creaked open to an oblivious Dean, seated on the floor. Small tremors shook his hands and his head hung low, heavy with guilt. A low voice broke through to the muddled light in his brain, "my God!" it breathed, and a rush of footfalls filled the room. "What the hell happened! You two look trashed. What was all the crashing?" Andrew looked between the brother's and the mess of the room, he quickly moved back to the hall. Dean heard him shout, "Mom! We need the first aid kit! They're a total wreck!"
Running back into the room Andrew dropped to his knees at Sam's side. "What the hell happened? For this much trouble you guys had better have gotten it."
Dizzily looking up to where the spirits had been coursing through the air, Dean saw no sign of them. With a slight shrug he thought, 'They must've left on their own.' "Sorry, Andrew, we didn't." Crawling to the place where he had dropped his father's journal. Dean pocketed it. Dean attempted to stand once again, but an over powering sense of vertigo stopped him. Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder helping him back down. Looking at his shoulder in bewilderment, he saw thin rays of light emanating from the slim hand. Slowly his eyes moved from the shining hand to follow the length of an arm. Next to him sat a translucent spectre, smiling. Her gentle eyes and face radiated a strange sense of well being and off in a deep corner of his mind, he could have sworn that a brush of a "thank you," touch his ears.
Whispering incoherently she motioned toward Sam's prone form. His rasping breathing seemed to become less strained and even Dean felt some of his paralysing pain dampen. With a small sigh and a smile of his own Dean opened his mouth to speak to her only to shut it when he saw that she'd moved. Fading whispers filled his ears and he once again focused his attention on Sam. Looking at Dean she lifted her hand and beckoned him over to them. A smile still on her lips, she beckoned him one last time before turning her attention to Sam. Brunette hair flowed behind her, caught in an ethereal breeze, as she blinked her peace filled amber eyes a bittersweet smile danced upon her lips. With a final wave of her hand, she faded away into a mist.
Bleary eyes jerked back into focus, as Dean's head spun dangerously out of control when he attempted to stand. Stretching his aching arms out, he dropped to his hands and knees. Willing the room to stop moving, Dean carefully edged to Sam's side. "Sam?" he stretched a still shaky hand out and gave his brother's shoulders a gentle shake. "Hey, Sammy," he barely whispered, "come on, man, wake up. I need to see if you're okay." There were no signs of consciousness, nothing, not even a batted eyelid. 'No,' his mind began to chant as his hand once again gave his brother's shoulder a gentle shake. "Come one, man, quick slacking. You always seem to leave the hard work to me. Come on, Sam." Dean felt the pull of a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up into the quietly stern face of Mr. Lewison.
"Mr. Winchester, how about you come back over here to rest for a second. My wife is a retired nurse, she'll know if your brother needs any medical help. It'll be easier for her to work, if you're relaxing over here. Dean felt as the man put his arm under his shoulders and helped him to his daughter's bed. Tiredly Dean leaned against the pillows; thankful that he had something soft to lean against this time. The desk was probably not the greatest choice as a cushion. "Did you free my daughter?" The unspoken question thickened the air, not uttered in fear of the answer. Dean's eyes caught the unadulterated love and concern that rustled in the eyes of the family and spoke softly.
"She's free, Kent." He saw remorse lift off the grieving father's shoulders. "Your daughter has moved on." Sighing he shifted on the bed to get a better view of his brother. Margaret was sitting with his prone brother, gazing sadly upon his face, holding an icepack to his head.
"I… we… what can I say? You saved our daughter from the clutches of a demon, and put her at peace. I can only hope that it did not cause too much trouble for you." Margaret stood slowly and made her way to Dean, regarding him with scrutiny. "Are you any better off than your brother?" she murmured coming to rest on the edge of the bed next to him. "Come, let me take a look at you." Deftly her fingers probed the darkening contusions.
Pulling back Dean gave her his most charming smile. "Thanks, but…a….I should probably take Sam, and get going," Dean said stiffly moving from the bed, trying to suppress the cries of protest emanating from his back. "Glad we could help you." Frowning he turned back to Sam-still lying prone on the floor.
"If you insist, but please come back in a few days to collect your payment and maybe a good meal. I still remember what your father did for my family, we will be forever grateful. My sister's apartment had a water sprite in the basement pipes. I can only imagine what kind of person it takes to help people, and receives no thanks." The middle-aged woman's gaze was once again transfixed on Sam, concern etched across her tender face.
Walking the few mile long steps to his brother's side Dean pulled Sam up into a sitting position. "Come on Sam, wakee waky."
Slowly Sam's eyes slid open and locked with Dean's. The brown orbs widened dramatically, before being clamped shut again. Dean pulled Sam to his feet, and the two stood there rocking trying to find their balance until Andrew hastily slid under Sam's other side. "It's the least I can do."
Nodding in appreciation, Dean watched the young man like hawk as they eased Sam's nearly unconscious form down the stairs. Every step they took with Sam's limp body between added to a steadily rising worry in Dean's heart. At every corner Dean relived the brutal way he'd defended himself from Sam, and the malicious way Sam had attacked; forced to see the undying malevolence glinting in the dark eyes staring out from Sam's face.
After the long journey through the narrow hallways, across cluttered living room and down the steep porch steps, they safely settled into the car, Andrew looked through the open window at the driver's side at the two of them. Dean slid behind the familiar steering wheel trying get comfortable and vainly collect all of his faculties. Taking a reassuring glance in the rear-view mirror he saw Sam, still stretched along the back seat. He lay with his head and neck propped against the passenger side door. The rare used seat belts were buckled tightly along Sam's lean tall body. Dean realised that had Andrew not been there, he would have never been able to procure a position that would have stabilized Sam's body. Dean whispered a small prayer to whom ever was listening to hold Sam's body in place until they returned to the hotel. Andrew, have apparently heard Dean's small faith, elicited a surprised smile.
Turning the engine on Dean looked up to see Andrew still standing there studying them. "I'm glad that you could help her." He looked uneasily at them. Dean could feel the mistrust and anger that still burned in him, though it was now being overpowered by thankfulness. "I'm coming with you to your hotel. Help you get him settled. I'll call a cab to come back. She'd want me to."
"Thanks," he said with an easy smile, "but I really don't think that's necessary. Sammy and I'll manage." Dean watched half expectantly as the young man sighed, and slid in the seat beside him, clicking the lock shut.
"And I passed my history final." Seeing Dean's confused countenance, he explained, "I was being sarcastic." He looked over his shoulder at the pain washed face of Sam, and he shuddered. "What the hell happened in there?"
"You'd die a happy man not knowing," Dean said curtly as he backed the Impala out of the driveway. Dean drove slowly through traffic, making the trip to the Best Western Hotel last longer than the twenty minutes it'd taken to get to the house. He noted that every once in a while the young man sitting next to him would look between them, a question on his tongue, but he never asked; just let it hang in the air before fear killed it.
Dean guided the Impala mechanically through the traffic while is mind attempted to sift through the day's events. He couldn't shake the image of Sam's face twisted in rage at him, and how that thing had tried to use his little brother against him. Sam would never have let that thing kill him, no matter what it claimed. Sam was too strong to completely succumb to that thing's will. Play by play of their fight raced through his mind, and he realized now that many of Sam's moves were wild and missed their mark. Sam was too good and knew better than to throw those wild punches. He would never have missed an opportunity to deliver a crushing blow; no he would've found ways to create the opportunity to hit harder and faster than his opponent- like when he fought the shape shifter. Shaking off the disturbing thoughts, Dean pulled in behind the hotel; right into a handicapped spot next to an ill-used door and an elevator.
Andrew hopped out of the car, opening the door that Sam was propped against; he carefully manoeuvred the unconscious man so that he could undo the seat belts. Stealthily Dean swooped in behind Andrew to aid in pulling his brother out. Dean's back balked angrily and Dean let out a low hiss. The teenager's arm positioned suddenly under Sam's torso, and Dean gave the kid a look. "I got him."
The kid shook his head and pulled Sam's arm tighter around his shoulder, kicking shut the Impala's door. Dean didn't notice. With some amount of difficulty they opened the glass door and headed toward the deserted looking elevator. On their way up to the door and button panel, four important well-dressed business men opened the door to the get out and took one long look at them, with horrified eyes, and pompously ran away. Dean could not help but laugh. "We get that a lot."
The ding to the fourth floor finally sounded and the trio made their way slowly to the door of the room. Fumbling through his pockets manically Dean and stopped rolled his eyes. "Guess who has the keycard?" After going through Sam's jacket pockets, shirt pocket and front pants pockets- he swore, drawing out a quieted chortle from the teenager- and moved to the back pockets. Sam's eyes chose that moment to open, and he moaned in protest. "It's all right, little brother, just looking for the room key."
Dean flashed the card victoriously at Andrew whose grunted acclaim of, "Just open the damned door, already. This guy's about twice my total mass when I'm soaking freaking wet," was obeyed as Dean shoved open the now unlocked door. Fumbling around with Sam's semi-conscious form they settled him onto the bed. For a moment Sam lay there looking like a wounded puppy trying to push himself up until he seemed to tire of that and fell back asleep, they hoped, not unconscious.
Andrew picked up the phone and dialled room service. "Yeah Room 412. We'd like some extra towels… yes… yeah we'll pay for those. Sorry must have…" a dial tone assault Andrew's ears. Looking up at Dean – Andrew's bright blue eyes clouded slightly with shock- he exclaimed, "You stole towels? Already!" Dean gave a 'what are you going to do?' shrug and put the single remaining cold towel on his brother's jaw. The look of guilt and betrayal plastered across Dean's face did not escape Andrew, and he had to physically quell the rising questions that hung in his head. "Hey, they have a pool here right?" Dean gave a quick nod, "I'll go grab some from there, I saw an ice bucket down the hall, and you could go get some quickly. It'll help with the swelling."
After a quick run to get the suggested supplies, both men returned at the same time. Dean would never admit how much effort it took him to walk down the hall after carrying his brother. Andrew seemed to notice some of Dean's controlled and stiff movements. "Hey, whatever did this to him got you too. Why don't you relax and I'll keep watch over Sam," suggested the young man.
Dean glanced up warily, seemly to size the boy up. After a much-extended staring match the elder Winchester relented to sitting in the large recliner, and pretended to close his eyes. He heard dimly through approaching sleep- spurned by injury and exhaustion- as Andrew took the ice and held it to Sam's head. Holding the too cold towel against his own swelling face, Dean watched Andrew flick off the lights.
After a stiff and uneasy night Dean's eyes popped open at a quarter after nine in the morning. They focused on Sam, as he shifted forcefully in the bed- caught in the grips of a nightmare. Dean's back flamed painfully as tried to stand; his numb legs only half responding. After tripping over Andrew's body, snaked along the floor, asleep, he staggered to Sam's side he shook the younger man's shoulder. "Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty, your prince is leaving."
After a trembling shout of, "No," Sam's eyes snapped open. The young man shook himself, and locked slightly panicked eyes with Dean. "Dean!" In Dean's eyes he saw everything that they'd done to each other and witnessed. Pure remorse and shame echoed in the eyes of Sam. He looked away, unable to face the pain he knew he'd been forced to inflict on his brother.
Dean felt himself start to quiver as every blow they exchanged, every cruel word that Sam'd uttered- the demon uttered-replayed in his mind, but remaining unsaid between them. Dean stood up as rapidly as his body would allow, trying to hide his limp as he ventured into the bathroom. "I'm gonna get you some water," he said ignoring Sam's faint 'I'm fine.'
Andrew entered in behind him, looking at Dean guiltily, "I didn't mean to fall asleep, my mom, she's probably expecting me, well minus nine hour's ago." The kid gritted his teeth, "You two will be alright?" Dean nodded appreciatively, and the kid muttered a quick thanks and good bye, and went outside into the hall.
In the bathroom alone Dean dropped heavily to the edge of the tub. Staring down at his shaking hands, he slammed the door. Breathing heavily, he quickly stood and splashed water on his face. Get a grip, Dean. You did what you had to, that wasn't Sam you were fighting. It was a demon. The words reverberated like a mantra through his skull. He could not summon the courage to walk back out there and face his brother. It may have been a demon he was fighting, but it was Sam that had taken the blows.
He rubbed his cold hands together and poured the glass of water that had been his excuse to come in here and collect himself- to repress everything.
Striding out with makeshift confidence, he turned into the main part of the room to see Sam sitting on the bed, with his back to Dean. All words died on Dean's tongue as he went to sit beside him. Sam didn't acknowledge him. Dean sat hesitantly still, not wanting to break the thought trail he could scarcely read behind Sam's half-lidded brown eyes. He could see the deep and forceful breath thrum out of his brother, and back in again. Sam swallowed, and Dean noticed the grimace. Opening his mouth, Sam spoke to the floor. "I tried to kill you."
The total culpability of the statement pulled at Dean's heart, and settled into his mind as he allowed a quick, "Are you serious?" slip from his mouth.
Sam whipped his head around locking haunted eyes with his brother's. "I tried to kill you, Dean. I think that I almost did… I could have. I don't know why she didn't. I felt her anger…" he trailed off and blinked. "Dean, I'm sorry."
"Hey you fought that thing tooth and nail, Sam," Dean said, glancing down. "That takes some strength."
Sam looked away and shuddered. His voice barely above a whisper, Sam said flatly, "it wasn't a demon." Dean looked back to him incredulously. "That was the most powerful ghost I have ever met. I felt her heart, her mind, she's lonely. She's angry."
"Sam, you don't have to apologize to me for that bitch. It wasn't your fault." He gingerly touched the bruises on his face and sat a little straighter. "These are nothing you did. This isn't your fault. But the things I did… to stop you, to keep her from walking out that door with you… I knew you were in there somewhere, you could feel pain, and I punched just as hard hoping it would get through to her. I could not let you walk out that door and start a massacre."
Swallowing hard Sam looked away. "I don't blame you. You did what you had to do. You not stopping her from leaving is what she wanted. She wanted people to join her, to feel her pain, to be as alone as she is in the grips of the ghostly plain and forsake of whatever afterlife awaited them. I saw her mind. I saw what a tormented and twisted spectre she's become." Standing gingerly, Sam winced in pain and rubbed his jaw as he spoke, "I actually felt sympathy for her."
Sam turned and looked down at his brother who sat with one hand wrapped behind him, knuckling his back spasm. "But the deed done to her doesn't excuse the atrocities that she committed."
Pulling himself up, Dean faced his younger brother, "I won't say it again. I'm sorry."
Flinching Sam took a long look at the guilt-ridden face of his brother, "I know you are. I do." There was a quiet beat, "You do realize that you instigated a chick flick moment, don't you?"
Dean let himself be pulled by that diversion of topic and smiled. "Yeah, I did…so do you feel like painting each others toenails, now? Hot pink, maybe?"
Sam stopped dead and whipped around to face his brother. "If you allude to that vampire incident one more time I will hang you out to dry with a sign that says 'bight me' and a hot pink bulls eye tattooed to your neck."
"Now, now no need to get sensitive about it." Dean shot at him with a practiced smirk plastered across his face. "What exactly did that vampiress do to you anyway?"
"Nothing you need to know about," The conditioned response had Dean grinning.
Sam rolled his eyes and took a swallow from the glass of water. The effort Sam put into swallowing and closing his mouth visibly tore at Dean. Catching Dean's look of empathy deflated Sam.
"Don't worry about it, okay?" Sam knew that Dean would. He knew that Dean saw it all as his fault, but Sam knew better. He knew that this could be avoided again if he could just find a way to break the dreams to Dean. Find someway to explain to Dean what he saw. Last night they had expanded, the rage of the spirit had imprinted more of the future into Sam's nightmare. In five days it was going to happen again.
Dean broke the silence, "So you saw into her head?" He waited for an affirmative response, before he continued, "would she happen to know where she was entombed, buried, anything?"
Sam marvelled at the focus that suddenly erupted out of their blatant humour. "France."
Dean's pure expression of horror would've had Sam laughing if his head would have taken it. "I think we need to find another way of banishing her."
"Ya think?"
So what did you guys think, ie, really want to hear from you.
Really, really want to hear from you. It's pathetic. I have security issues.
So will our boys go to France, will Sam confess, will Dean realize what he was not evil, all these questions and more answered in the next episode of Grief's Possession.
Reviewer Responses:
Gator-Girl: Thanks for the review, I tried to update soon, really I did!
Kits: Thanks for the detailed review, and that some one aprieciates the effort I put in to try and stay as close to the creators vision for the characters. And I, this is kinda sad, just figured out which 'its' or 'it's' to use.
Sensue: Thanks!
Twisted Flame: I hope I satiated you appetite. And I glad you like this, and took the time to put a detailed review.
Sarah: Thanks for the compliment and I will
Cyberchick2007: I luv giving out cliffies. Thanks for the review.
Nate and Jake: Thanks a lot for the review, and I have a compulsion to beat up on hot male characters. So, yah, love angst.
Dreema Azaleia Wingblade: Hope you like this when you get back. I'm glad someone gets annoyed with my cliffy, it make me feel good.
Flutterbybutterfly: I can't resist causing mental/physical pain to my favourite guys like Sam, far too much fun.
Dark Fires: Thanks for the review and the sympathy. See latah!
Charli: Thanks for your expressive appreciation. I glad you enjoy this, I might as well make longer chapters, if it take me this long to update, thanks for your support. And I agree, I am not a fan of incest, at all.
Nerissa: I am glad that you like this fic so much. Hope to see such positive reviews again.
LostAngel2: Heh heh, heh. Can't be nice, I know I'm doing a good job when I get a "poor Sam" or something like that.
Tanya: Wow! Thanks, I happy that you love this story that much.
Violet Eternity: I glad that you enjoy reading this so much. I'm glad you notice the little things I do to try and make it more 'realistic'.
Ghostwriter: Here it is, hope you liked. I need to think of my own catch phrase, I like what you have going.
Jessica: I probably killed you with the long update time, but it's a lengthy chapter, so it sorta balances out, right?
Sweet as Punch: Thanks a lot for the story, and its fun trying to write the brothers, it kinda like the things I do to my sister, expect we're both female.
Dyrne-Faemne: I didn't talk a lot about the knife, but you'll see in the coming chapter. And no, it wasn't exactly saving Dean did, it's kinda a perspective thing. But for the coming chapters, you'll see.
Stony Angel: I'm glad that you love this fic, so much. I gotta love cliffies too, though I ended this own nice.
Windyfontaine: I'm glad you reviewed, (and the cyber soup was good).
Moonfairyhime: Thanks for the review; writing is really an art, usually unnoticed by most people. I try and do my best.
Chaigirl: I am glad you reviewed, and Dean really didn't get him out of it, not really. I like to evolve the characters to be independent. I like to think of them as being able to fix messes they created. You'll see.
LittleWing: You are an asset to this story, I really don't think I could do as good of a job filtering and make this flow without your suggestions and ideas. I'll email you later, with more praise/ideas later. Gotta update.
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