Chapter Eight

Dean wasn't all that surprised to find that the inside of his head looked like a cheap motel room with all of his memories tacked and taped and stuck to the walls in a messy clutter. He'd always imagined it to be something like that. His would be messy and cheap, Sam's was probably some neat, filing system with everything labeled and pretty flowers. He had kind of hoped his mind would take on the form of the inside of the Impala, but really, where would all his memories go? There was only so much you could fit into a glove box. But as Dean sat cross legged on the bed, not really knowing how he'd gotten there, he realized this place wasn't so bad. It had a kitchenette and a bed with soft sheets and a window with drawn shutters and a door that led to his subconscious and a bathroom…wait, a bathroom? Was that a toilet flushing?

And the door to the bathroom swung open and Dean should have been surprised to see Genie standing in the doorway buttoning his pants, but he wasn't. The man didn't look too wraith-like right now. He looked how Dean remembered him. He wore a nice silk black shirt and jeans. That stupid vintage Batman watch was around his wrist. Genie had never taken it off, or at least that's what he'd told Dean. The man was tall, looming almost. He'd give Sam a run for his money. He was bald and hairless, but utterly harmless looking. Dean had always joked with him that he looked like a cancer patient, and Genie would always spit it back and say that Dean was one giant, walking, talking tumor. Crude jokes, but he guessed that's why they had gotten along so well. Until Dean shot him in the head.

"Foul," Genie yelled, making baseball referee movements with his hands. Dean watched in mild fascination. He hadn't really expected this friendly, joking treatment. He'd completely expected to be chained to a wall or some weird ass kinky stuff that Genie had been into. "You might want to light a candle if you go in there." Genie hiked a thumb towards the bathroom before closing the door behind him.

"You took a shit in my mind?" Dean asked, watching as Genie grinned and turned to look at some of the pictures and papers that represented all of Dean's memories tacked to the wall.

"If you didn't want the shit, you shouldn't have made the toilet," Genie answered. He moved along the wall, studying all the pictures before he suddenly straightened and clapped his hands together. "Oh look, here's me," he said with a cruel joyfulness to his voice. He reached up and plucked a picture off the wall. "Right between your acquired taste for garlic stuffed olives and the lyrics to Dead or Alive." Genie held up the picture. "I'm glad I hold such a special place in your heart."

Dean tried to say something, but the other man held up a hand and put the picture back on the wall. He pushed the tack in deeply, like he was making sure there was no way that picture was coming down, no way that memory would be forgotten. Then he turned around and walked over to where Dean still sat cross legged on the bed. He stood in front of him with his hands on his hips and looked down at him. "I don't want to hear any excuses, Dean," Genie spat, venom in his voice. "You did what you had to. I understand that. Really, I do." He reached forward and took Dean's face in his hands. Dean flinched but Genie didn't let go. "So I hope you'll understand that now I'm doing what I have to do."

"No, you don't have to do this," Dean pleaded. "Please, don't." He didn't like the way Genie's hands felt on his face. Everything else in the room, even himself, felt like a dream, felt like something he knew wasn't really there. But Genie's hands, they were really there, and they hurt. And Genie wasn't doing anything but touching him. "You were going to kill those people. I had to…"

"You didn't have to do shit!" Genie yelled and Dean flinched as the room darkened slightly. Genie laughed. "Oh Dean, I haven't even started," he said and suddenly pulled Dean forward, yanking him up and towards the window. Then he let him go and Dean had to resist the temptation to touch his face. He could still feel Genie's hands on him. It made him shiver. "You know, Dean, you're not a bad guy." Dean just frowned. Then why the hell was he doing this? "But you will be once I'm done with you."

And as Genie pulled back the blinds, Dean's eyes widened as he saw himself holding Cecily in his arms, a knife to her throat. He saw Sam staring at him with sad, horrified eyes. It was like watching a movie but he knew it was happening. Everything he saw out this window was happening right now, right as he was watching it. Dean's hands clenched into fists. No, he had to stop this.

"He's going to die," Genie whispered in Dean's ear. Dean froze, panic coursing through him for a moment. He looked at his brother outside the window. Sam looked so lost and confused and terrified. Oh God, Sammy. Just hang on, I'll beat this asshole and then we'll get out of here and everything will be okay. "You're going to kill him," Genie said. "And he'll cry out for you to stop. Oh Dean, Dean please don't kill me, please don't hurt me." Genie made his voice sound just like Sam's. "And you're not going to hesitate to slit his throat and stare into his eyes so the last thing he sees is your face telling him he's weak, he's not good enough, that you don't really love him."

And something inside Dean snapped at that. He gave an angry scream and turned, fists flying. No, he wouldn't hurt Sam, ever. He'd never do that to his baby brother. "No!" Dean found himself crying as he swung a fist at Genie's face. But Genie ducked his head back and in an instant he had a hand wrapped around Dean's throat and was squeezing. Dean choked and Genie screamed back at him before punching him across the face once, twice, a third time, and on the fourth he let Dean fall onto the bed, where he lay panting for breath, wondering how pain could feel so real if this was all just inside his head. How could that really be blood leaking from his nose, dripping from his brow?

Dean didn't have time to figure it out as Genie leapt on him, his hand around his throat again, pushing him onto his back and pinning him there, straddling his waist. Genie screamed in rage and Dean tried to draw in breath, but he was choking, being strangled. He tried to buck and kick Genie off, but the other man was just too heavy. "Hurts, doesn't it?" Genie hissed, bringing his face close to Dean's. Genie laughed as Dean brought up his hands to try and claw at his face, to try and pry his fingers from around his throat. It was a feeble attempt. "Even souls can bleed," Genie whispered, brushing a hand over Dean's head in a gesture Dean would have found extremely disturbing if he could focus on something other than the hand around his throat, closing his windpipes. "Mine's already bled out. Let's see how much yours can take."

Sam was paralyzed. It was as if he'd forgotten how to move, forgotten how to breathe, forgotten how to feel anything but utter terror throughout his entire body. Sam had dealt with possessions before. He'd taken part in numerous exorcisms to extract demons and spirits from people's bodies. But never, never in all the time that they'd been doing this, had he been forced to perform one on his brother. Never had he ever had to throw holy water onto Dean and watch his skin blister and boil and his face contort with a pain Sam didn't even begin to understand. He wasn't sure he could do it. But the knife that was held against Cecily's throat told him that he had no choice.

Finally able to tear his eyes away from the dead black ones staring at him with such malice, Sam uncorked the holy water and held it in his hand as he started to read the counter verse. He ignored Genie's taunting. He ignored Cecily's small sobs. Just get that thing out of Dean and this would all be over. Simple as that. But Genie wasn't going to make it that simple. When did they ever make it that simple?

"Are you going to turn your brother into a monster?" Genie said with Dean's voice. Sam tried to ignore him, tried to focus on the words. "Do you think he'll be able to deal with the guilt of knowing it was his hand who slit her throat?" And at Cecily's small cry, Sam couldn't help but look up and scream inside his head. But he throat wasn't slit. Dean, no, Genie was just holding her tighter. "Throw that book out here," he demanded. Sam looked down and read another passage. Genie growled. "You really want to watch her die?" And Cecily screamed so loudly that Sam's whole body tingled with horror. He looked up and saw a small trickle of blood running down Cecily's neck. God, he couldn't do this.

"No!" Sam yelled and closed the book. Genie smiled at him with Dean's face. "Okay, don't hurt her," Sam said and tossed the book into the hall. Genie looked down at it before violently kicking it away, out of Sam's sight. Well shit. "What do you want?" Sam demanded, not knowing what else to do. If only there was a way to reach Dean. Or get Cecily away from him so he didn't hold any leverage over Sam.

"Care for a sparring match, little brother?" Sam had to block out memories of the shapeshifter at Dean's words. The way he said them, the way he was looking at him. It was just like the shapeshifter. Just like the creature that had walked around with his brother's face. Sam thought that had been hard, but he would have preferred the shapeshifter over this. At least then it had just been a creature. A creature that Sam could hit and fight all he wanted without hurting his brother. But this, this was actually Dean. Whatever happened to this body happened to Dean.

"Don't talk to me like you're my brother," Sam spat lowly, trying to not let the fear seep into his voice.

Genie laughed and took the knife away from Cecily's throat to point it at Sam. "But I am your brother," he said. "I am Dean Winchester. I've lived through fires, ghosts, ghouls and even my own stupidity induced electrocution. I've killed demons, wolves, zombies and two years ago I looked a man in the eye and told him that I was the only person he could trust and two days later I shot him between the eyes."

Sam felt anger grow within him. Stop talking about Dean like his whole life is summed up by the things he's killed or have tried to kill him. There's more to him than that. "He did it to protect the other people in the room…"

"Is that what he told you?" Genie laughed. "That my murder was a selfless act of heroism?" He shook his head. "Your brother's full of it. He's a goddamn liar and I'm going to show the world what a monster he really is." Genie lifted Cecily up a little higher, his face near her neck. "Do you think your brother will enjoy being a pedophile?"

"No!" Sam let out before he could stop himself. He took a few steps forward, but stopped himself before he stepped through the doorway. Sam's mind was racing, bursts of panic keeping him from coming up with any real plan. God, what would Dean do if this were the other way around? He'd knock your ass out and perform the exorcism and feel guilty about it later.

"I like you, Sam," Genie said suddenly and Sam's attention was back on the monster invading his brother's body. "We have a lot in common." Sam frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "So I'm going to give you the opportunity to end this." And with that, Genie reached out a foot and kicked Dean's discarded handgun through the doorway. Sam stared down at it. "I'm giving you the chance to save your brother from this, Sam."

The dream. This was the dream. The nightmare. Sam eyed the offending weapon with hatred. Could he really? Could he really pick up that gun, aim it at his brother's head, and pull the trigger? He knew the answer almost immediately, but leaned down to pick up the gun anyway. He looked at Dean. Not at the monster inside of him, but at Dean, at his brother, at the one person who had been there whenever he needed him. The one person who continuously pulled him away from danger, pulled him to safety. Sam's hand shook as he held the gun up and aimed. Could he really be doing this? Was he about to pull the trigger on his own brother?

"No, Sam!" Cecily's voice broke into the tense silence and Sam glanced at her. Wide eyes stared back at him, pleading. Oh God, she still trusted him. She still trusted Dean. Sam felt tears sting at his eyes. Sam looked back at Dean, whose dark eyes were shining, grin still spread wide, face still foreign yet oh so familiar. No, he couldn't. He couldn't do it. Because deep down, Sam still trusted Dean as well. Dean was still in there, behind those dark eyes, and Sam knew he was fighting. Sam grit his teeth suddenly, fury rising up in him. What the hell was he supposed to do? Why the hell was this happening? And when the fury came to a boil, Sam dropped his arm and let the gun slide from his grasp. He'd never taken a human life before and he was not about to start with his brother.

"I once had values too," Genie said softly. Sam watched as Dean's body relaxed slowly. Genie looked down at Cecily in his arms. He was quiet for a minute before he suddenly let go of the little girl. She fell to her knees but was up in an instant and running towards Sam. He was surprised that Genie actually allowed her to make it inside the room. Cecily clung to his legs, but he didn't look down at her, he watched Genie, wondering what he was up to. Why would he give up his only leverage? "I guess I'll hold on to one and let her live."

"Genie," Sam tried. "You can hold on to a lot more. You don't have to do this."

Genie snorted. "That's the same thing your brother's saying." Sam's heart stopped. Oh Dean, please keep fighting. "I know he feels guilty. But he hasn't begun to feel guilt," Genie spat. He was suddenly rolling up his sleeve and Sam tensed a little. No, what was he doing? Don't do that. Don't you dare do that you son of a bitch. "I need to kill you, Sam. So are you ready to come out and play?"

Sam watched as Genie brought the knife to Dean's exposed wrist. Oh God. Sam was an idiot. Of course he still had leverage. He'd always have leverage as long as he had Dean. "Please…" Sam started, but apparently, Genie was done playing games because he sunk the knife into Dean's skin, dark, deep red blood instantly seeping out.

Sam was moving before he could stop himself.

Genie pulled Dean up from the bed and forced him back to the window, holding his head in a firm grip, making him look out at the scene unfolding before them. Dean's breath was shaky as he saw what was going on. No, Sammy, why did you leave that room?

Dean watched, helpless to do anything, as his brother dashed from the doorway towards him. He noticed the knife pressing down into his body's wrist. Dean glanced down at his own and was surprised to see a real cut forming there. And almost instantly the pain that accompanied it made itself known. Dean cringed, but looked back up to see how his brother was faring. Sam had managed to wrestle the knife away and it now lay discarded on the ground. But that's about all Sam managed to accomplish before Genie landed the first punch that sent his little brother flying back into the wall. Sam looked dazed.

"Watch out!" Dean screamed from his position behind the window. "Sammy, block!"

And Sam brought his arm up at the last minute in answer to the backhanded fist he was about to get across the face. Sam ducked and moved away from the wall, taking a fighting stance but barely able to do anything as Genie came at him, using every fighting move he and Dean knew combined. Sam was trying to counter as best he could, but it was clear Genie had the upper hand.

"Stop!" Dean yelled and turned to look at Genie. "Fight me you mother fucker!" he screamed. Genie, who was sitting down on the bed, looking amused, glanced over at him but didn't say anything. "Leave him out of this!"

"Oh, here comes a good part," Genie said and Dean whipped his head back towards the window. His eyes widened as he watched Genie grab Sam's arm and use his own momentum to slam him against the wall. Genie got a handful of Sam's hair and slammed his head into the wall three times before letting go and watching Sam slump to the ground, fighting to stay conscious.

Dean felt his stomach tie itself into knots. He clenched his fists and screamed, "Sammy, get up! Kick my ass, dammit, fight back!" He ignored Genie's laughter from the bed behind him. He watched as Genie went to kick Sam in the face and gave an excited yell as Sam caught Genie's leg and pulled, bringing the other man to the ground harshly. But as soon as Dean saw his body's head hit the cement floor, pain exploded in the back of his own head and he winced, unable to keep from falling to his knees. "Son of a…" Dean muttered, shaking his head to clear the stars. He could feel hot, sticky blood running down the back of his neck.

Genie came forward then and pulled Dean back to his feet. "You don't want to miss this," he said and Dean forced his vision clear just in time to see Genie's hand wrap around the hilt of a knife and swipe it backwards, across Sam's cheek. He watched his brother grunt and scramble away, a hand instantly going to his face, blood already dripping between his fingers. "It's a good look on him," Genie said conversationally. "I think we'll add a nice slash right across that pretty throat of his, how does that sound?"

"Fuck you," Dean spat out and took another swing at Genie who just laughed and moved out of the way. He grabbed Dean's shirt and shoved him up against the window, forcing his head into the glass painfully.

"I'm having fun with him," Genie said harshly. "Are you ready to watch your brother die?"

And if souls could bleed, then they could cry. And Dean had never felt such tears.