A/N: This is the beginning of the end, Ladies and Gentlemen. One more chapter after this one (13 is my lucky number!). Warning – chick-flick moments ahead. ;)
Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, his forehead pressed to the window as he watched the landscape fly by at 50 mph. They were on the road again, headed West towards Kansas. At a loss, they had decided that perhaps Missouri Mosley would be able to assist them. Sam secretly felt that it was a pointless effort. This was going to end soon, one way or another.
He couldn't hang on to his sanity much longer. Already his mind seemed jumbled and distorted, irrational thoughts and fears wreaking havoc with his ability to remain calm. He felt like he was slipping away, bit by bit. And he was terrified that this time, Dean wouldn't be able to save him.
"Dean, I need you to promise me something." He said, looking up.
"Sam…"
There was a warning tone to Dean's voice. He knew where this was going.
"No, Dean. I need you to promise. That if this thing… takes me, if we can't stop it – I don't want to live like that, Dean. A prisoner in my own mind, watching myself do horrible things… Promise me you won't let me go on that way."
Dean's hand's clenched on the wheel and the muscles in his jaw flexed and released. He shook his head.
"I'm not gonna let that happen, Sam. It's not going to come to that."
"But if it does, I need to know that…" Sam trailed off, staring intently at his brother.
"What, Sammy? That I can kill my little brother? That I can fucking murder you? Cause I'm sorry, but I can't promise you that. Now stop thinking that way – right now. You need to keep a clear head."
Sam sighed, recognizing that the conversation was officially over, and went back to watching the road speed by. He could only hope that when he did succumb to madness and possession, Dean would find the mercy and the resolve to end his life.
Dean ground his teeth, resisting the urge to smack Sam. He was glad that his brother had dropped the subject when he did – otherwise he might have had to physically gag him. The thought of killing Sam made Dean want to double over and puke his insides out. It was simply inconceivable. Sam was going to beat this, they were going to beat this. They'd faced unspeakable creatures and killers their whole lives – no way was some sneaky little snake taking them out.
Must be easy, hanging back and waiting until your prey goes insane. Try showing up in person, motherfucker. I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you'd never taken corporeal form.
He glanced over at Sam, who was slumped against the door, his eyes beginning to drift shut.
Helplessness flooded him and made him feel lightheaded. It was nearly dusk and they were still entirely too far from Kansas – it would be another few days of driving before they could get to Missouri, and Dean wasn't even sure she could help them. They were going to her simply as a last resort, a last ditch effort in the absence of any other options.
He had no way to fight this thing. He was letting Sammy down, failing him.
"Sam," he said softly, suddenly needing to hear his brother's voice.
Sam turned and looked at him, his face oddly blank. As Dean was opening his mouth to speak again, Sam's eyes slid to the right, staring blankly, and his body went limp against the seatbelt.
"Sam?" Dean decelerated and extended an arm, shaking his brother's shoulder. Sam jerked rapidly under his hand, unresponsive.
Dean cursed and slammed on the brakes, pulling the car off the road onto a flat patch of tall grass surrounded by trees. Sam stopped convulsing almost as soon as the car stopped, but his eyes remained wide and vacant.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, trying to call his brother back to reality. Desperate, he slapped Sam hard in the face.
Sam's eyes focused hazily on Dean for a moment.
"It's here…" he breathed, and Dean had to lean forward to hear his voice.
"The dijiin?"
Sam's eyes rolled away again.
"Now… hap'ning now…"
"No!" Dean cried, realizing what his brother was trying to tell him. They needed more time, time to fix this.
Sam pulled in a deep, gasping breath and his back arched up off the seat. His eyes rolled completely back in his skull.
"Sam, don't!"
Dean felt furious tears form in his eyes. He grasped his brother's face in both his hands and leaned toward him.
"Sammy, you can't go. Listen to me – fight it, okay? Come on…"
Dean heard a soft, eerie hissing and a white smoke filtered into the car through the vents. Dean swatted uselessly at it – his hands passed straight through without effect and the mist advanced towards Sam's head.
"No!" Dean screamed as the dijiin streamed into his brother's ears, nose, and open mouth. He clutched at the front of Sam's shirt and shook him.
"Fight it, Sam!"
Sam's eyes snapped forward again and the air left his body in a violent rush. His eyes locked onto Dean's, full of panic. He made a choking sound and his hands shot up to grab at Dean's wrists.
"Sam? Please…"
Sam choked again, his eyes screaming at Dean.
"Dean…" he gasped, and his eyes started to close.
"You can't have him!" Dean screamed, "He's mine!"
Sudden comprehension struck him like a blow and he gasped. Please don't let it be too late… he prayed silently. Please let this work…
"Sam, hang on! Keep fighting!" he ordered, and Sam's eyes opened a little wider as he continued to pant for breath. Dean pulled his knife from under the front seat, his fingers stinging as he cut them in his haste.
Gritting his teeth he pressed the blade into his right palm. Brightly colored blood pooled in his hand and dribbled from the ends of his fingers. He grabbed at Sam's right hand, his grip slippery, and with a silent apology sliced open his brother's palm as well.
He clasped Sam's bleeding hand in his own, pressing the cuts together and sqeezing.
"He's mine." Dean hissed, pulling Sam to him and compressing their joined hands between them. "Mine, you hear me? I claim him, with my blood."
Sam wheezed and shuddered, his eyelids fluttering wildly as his eyes darted back and forth beneath them.
"Come on, Sammy…" Dean pleaded, their mingled blood seeping into the chest of his shirt. This hadto work – if the spell was bound to Sam with the dijiin's blood, then his blood had to break the spell. He was Sam's brother.
Sam jolted against him and arced back. His limbs twitched and he moaned, his eyes closing. Dean sobbed with relief as smoke began to seep from under his brother's eyelids like tears. He watched as it disappeared back through the vents before turning back to the younger Winchester.
He cupped the back of Sam's neck with his free hand and pressed their foreheads together. Sam's eyes snapped open and he gave a weak cry of alarm.
"It's okay, kiddo. I got ya. You're okay." Dean reassured, squeezing the back of his neck.
"Dean?" Sam sounded lost and very young.
"Yeah, Sammy. It's me."
"Is it over?" he whispered, his voice wavering.
"It's over,"
Sam sobbed wordlessly, collapsing against Dean with relief. He clung to his older brother as all the fear and grief he'd tried to suppress for three days was finally released.
Dean wrapped his arm around his brother's back and held him, unable to form any more words around the lump in his throat. He pressed his cheek to the top of Sam's head and concentrated on the thump, thump, thump of the heart that beat under his blood-slicked hand, still sandwiched between them – a heart that said only Sam, Sam, Sam when it beat.
His brother was still his brother.
A/N: One more chapter, folks. Then, according to my contract, I am free of this particular plot bunny. Alas, bunnies are known for their rapid reproduction, and several more have popped up as of late… :) All the kind feedback is definitely motivation to keep writing, so thanks.