A/N: Hooray! It's only taken me four days to get the document uploader thingy to work! Sorry for the severe delay (although not of my making...!) Luckily I didn't get derailed on a cliffie... Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - I've nearly made the 100! I'm almost as happy as when SN got renewed for a second season...!

Apologies: It's been pointed out to me that I've now tried to drown Dean in my last two chapter fics. I shall endeavour to think of a more creative way of trying to kill him in my next one...

Apologies 2: This goes a bit Corny Evil Dude somewhere in the middle. Hope the corn doesn't get too badly wedged in your teeth.

Apologies 3: Again, my American geography sucks big time and I had no idea where Pastor Jim was likely to have been living at this stage in the boys' lives, so I've gone for the place where he met his Maker (and Meg) in Salvation. I know Dean said it was a three hour drive to his house from Fitchburg in Something Wicked, so I'm just hoping that would kind of make sense... If anyone knows for sure, feel free to let me know!

Disclaimer: A little disclaimer renewal never hurts. Some day I will own the Universe and Sam and Dean will be mine... Until that day they're not. But it doesn't hurt do daydream. sigh

On with the show.

Chapter 7

Dean's head spun as he carefully inspected the reddening skin on his upper arm where Ian had grabbed him so forcefully. Throwing on a faded green t-shirt that had always seemed a couple of sizes too big for him no matter how big he got, he listened carefully for the sounds of Sam opening and closing drawers in the room next door, rooting around for dry clothes as if he owned any more than Dean did.

Despite the terror trying to bulldoze its way past his carefully constructed perimeter walls and right on into his brain, Dean couldn't help feeling a swell of pride warming his chest when he thought of the little guy jumping into the swimming pool and dragging his big brother to safety.

One less the little squirt owed him.

He could tell Sam was scared, not used to being the one who had to ride in on the white horse just in the nick of time. That was Dad's job. Or Dean's job. Not his. He wasn't used to having to protect his brother the way Dean was.

And Dean had never actually considered that Sam might have to some day.

Still, as concerned as Sam was for Dean's welfare, Dean was doubly concerned for Sam's. He didn't know what Uncle Ian was up to – and he was starting to have serious doubts about whether the guy actually was their Uncle – but three things he knew for sure.

First, he hadn't imagined those white eyes as Ian had stood over Sam's nightmare-ravaged form.

Second, he hadn't imagined Ian watching from the window when Dean was pushed into the pool. And he sure as hell hadn't made any attempt to help him, even, Dean was pretty sure, going as far as to call Sammy away before it happened.

Third, Dean definitely hadn't imagined Dad's Impala hidden away in Ian's shed, in one of only two places Ian had strictly forbidden Dean and Sam to enter. Which made Dean even more curious as to what might be going on in the basement.

But there was also a fourth thing Dean was sure of, and that was the best thing of all: Sam believed him. And that's all that mattered.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.

Sometimes Sammy's wish to be a normal kid didn't sound like such a bad idea.

"Dean?" Sam pushed open the door tentatively, shuffling into the room having changed into dry clothes.

Dean turned to look at him. "Well if it isn't My Hero," he said, tossing the kid his best grin. "What happened to your cape, dude?" Although he didn't feel much in the mood for smiling, Dean hoped if he did it might reassure Sam that everything was alright.

Which of course it wasn't.

Sam returned a sheepish little smirk, as if not sure whether or not Dean was teasing him. "It's in the closet, ready for the next time you need to use it," he replied.

The door closed behind him with a bang then, startling them both. "Sorry," Sam muttered, shrugging.

Dean shrugged right back at him. "Not my paintwork," he observed.

Sam tried to smile again, but just couldn't. "Dean – " he began, face screwing up in worry as it finally began to register that he'd almost lost his big brother today.

Dean sighed again. Sometimes he wished he didn't have to be the older brother any more. Sometimes he wished someone else could do it for a while. Just for a little while.

But right now, he knew that he was all that stood between Sammy and total meltdown. Or Sammy and Ian. Whichever was worse.

"It's gonna be alright, Sammy," he said, trying to force some conviction into his tired voice. "Don't worry."

Sam nodded, fighting back the tears desperately trying to escape down his cheeks. "Promise?" he asked, brows drawn together over ever-darkening eyes.

God. How did Dean respond to that without lying? At this point, he and Sam were so far from 'alright' they may as well have been on another planet.

He beckoned Sam over to him, the kid shuffling across the room to stand in front of him, like some broken toy soldier just waiting for Dean to fix him.

Dean caught the younger boy beneath the chin, lifting his eyes up to meet his own, just like he remembered Dad doing so many times when Dean had been scared.

Sam gazed up at him like he was the Eighth Wonder of the World, and Dean almost crumpled under the pressure of a look so full of unshakeable trust and unquestioning faith.

He swallowed, trying to convince himself he deserved it.

"Sammy," he said, putting his hands on the kid's shoulders, again like he remembered Dad doing so many times. "I promise nothing bad's gonna happen to you as long as I'm around." That was the best he could do.

Sam's expression changed to one of resigned determination then, and he nodded slowly. "And I promise," he said stoically. "That nothing bad's gonna happen to you as long as I'm around."

Dean couldn't help smiling at that. "Jeez, Sammy," he said. "You save a guy's life just once… Talk about a Superhero Complex!"

"As long as I get to be Superman," Sam insisted.

Dean frowned. "Who does that make me?"

Sam smirked. "I'll let you be Lois Lane if you're really really good," he said graciously.

Dean's smile turned into a laugh, and it felt like the first time he'd laughed in weeks. "Why, you little…" he never finished the sentence, the sound of a car engine outside drawing his attention.

The two of them just looked at each other for a second, before Dean edged over to the window, cautiously looking out over the driveway as Sam peered round him uncertainly.

A big silver Mercedes had turned on to the drive, pulling to a halt in front of the porch, the same porch Dean had climbed out onto the night before.

Dean heard the front door open, and Ian came into view, walking hesitantly towards the rear door of the vehicle, before casting a quick glance back up at the house, causing Dean to jerk back from the window for a second, before resuming his surveillance.

As Ian bent down towards the car, the darkened glass of the passenger window slid down smoothly, and Dean caught a brief glimpse of slicked back silver hair and dark glasses before the passenger settled back into the shadows.

He wasn't sure why, but Dean somehow knew it was important he hear this conversation, moving to open the window a little to better eavesdrop.

But the frame wouldn't budge.

"What the – ?" Dean glanced down, stomach lurching as he spotted the glint of fresh silver nails sticking out of the window frame on the other side of the glass. "Damn!" he burst out, his tone one of utter disgust. "The guy was busy while I was drowning…"

"What?" Sam stood on tiptoe to try and see what Dean was looking at.

Dean inclined his head towards the window frame. "Nailed my window shut," he explained bitterly.

Sam let the implications of that slowly sink in.

Dean glanced out of the window one more time. "Come on," he said, heading for the door. Sam followed close on his heels, and once again Dean marvelled at how short the distance seemed to Sam's room when you had solid floor beneath your feet.

Sam's window slid open easily, and Dean couldn't help thinking Ian might be underestimating the little squirt by not nailing his window shut too.

Their Uncle's voice was drifting up from the driveway, a distinct edge to it as he seemed to be remonstrating with the passenger in the Mercedes.

"…But he's just a kid," he was saying. "Is it really necessary to…"

"You know what my Acolyte told me," another voice cut him off, a voice so cold it chilled Dean to his very core. He saw Sam shudder involuntarily, and figured the kid had obviously caught the same vibe.

Ian was nodding, almost reluctantly. "But why can't I keep both?" he asked, dejectedly.

There was a pause, where Dean could imagine the guy in the Mercedes sighing. "He almost ruined everything this morning," that cold voice said. "You almost ruined everything this morning! You are weak. My Acolyte said this would come to pass. That the older boy would be difficult – "

Sam glanced up at Dean, who bit his lip rather harder than he'd meant.

"She is very rarely wrong about such things."

"But – "

"Had I not acted," the icy tone was laced with an unmistakeable edge of malice now. "He may have discovered the truth. If that happens, you will lose both of them. Do you understand?"

Ian nodded sheepishly, but didn't reply.

"He knows too much already – "

"Only guesses! He doesn't know anything – !"

"Yes he does!" the voice hissed. "Do not suppose the boy to be stupid. He must be dealt with. If you do not have the stomach for it…" the words trailed off, and Ian bowed his head.

"I do," he interrupted quietly. "To protect Sam."

Sam turned wide eyes on Dean, who was continuing to chew on his lip, pretty damned sure he knew who had to be 'dealt with'.

"Yes," the passenger was saying. "The younger. You will keep him. For me."

Ian nodded again. "But – what happened this morning…"

"Will be remedied. The younger will come to understand his mistake."

"Not if his brother has any say in the matter."

"He will say nothing else," the voice was positively glacial. Final. And Dean felt like icy fingers were clawing up his spine. "The younger will come to see. He will come to understand. But it must be done quickly. He will not be ours until the elder is disposed of."

Dean was pretty sure he had stopped breathing by this point, suddenly acutely aware of Sam pressing against his side as he slipped his fingers into his big brother's hand.

"And the other?" Ian sounded decidedly shaken now.

There was a long pause, then, "When the younger is ours, we will have no further use for him. You will dispose of him as well."

Ian hesitated before continuing, his voice even shakier than it had been before. "I'm not sure…" he gulped down the words. "I'm not sure I can. I mean. Why – why can't both of them – "

"Only the younger."

"But – "

"Remember the others?"

The words stopped Ian in his tracks, and Dean could see his shoulders slump, even from that distance.

"What did you call them?" the voice was mocking now, and when Ian didn't answer, the tone became more forceful, more cruel. "What did you call them?"

Ian hung his head. "Daniel," he said, his voice barely audible. "Daniel and Jamie."

"We lost them both. Remember?"

"Yes."

"After she chose them. My Acolyte. Hand-picked from an entire school!"

"Their mother – "

"Should not have been a problem. Would not have been a problem if you had not disobeyed my orders. I told you to dispose of her – "

"She was so young. She was all they had in the world."

"As we should have been! They were perfect. The younger was perfect."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. And with good reason."

Another pause, during which Dean was sure he could hear Sammy's heart thumping even over the sound of his own.

Then the frosty blast of that sleek voice again. "But your transgression may not be irredeemable," he said. Ian straightened slightly. "This one? The younger? He is even stronger than the last. He will be a fitting vessel."

Dean was pretty sure Sam whimpered at this point, and he squeezed the kid's hand a little tighter.

Ian was nodding. "And when you – when you're not – not using him?"

"He will be yours. Just as you've always wanted. Your greatest wish."

"Yes," Ian whispered. "My only wish."

Dean had heard possessed people before. And he'd heard people held in the thrall of some nameless demon, bent to their master's every whim.

But they didn't sound like this. They didn't sound so…blissful.

"Yes," the icy voice again. "Yes. Remember that. Your only wish… It will be yours. But only if you obey me. It will never come to pass – he will never be ours – yours – as long as his brother remains to poison his mind against you."

"Yes."

"And he will poison the boy against you."

"Yes."

"And then he will never be yours."

"Yes."

"You understand?"

"Yes."

"You understand what must be done?"

Ian straightened, looking taller than he had before. And with a voice as strong as iron, he said, "Yes. I understand what must be done."

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Sam didn't sit up front with Uncle Ian on the drive to the mall, preferring to sit in the back, as close to Dean as he could get.

The little squirt had barely left his big brother's side since their overheard conversation, and Dean wasn't sure whether it was out of fear of their Uncle or fear for Dean's safety.

Either way, Dean didn't care. If Ian was planning on hurting Sammy in any way, then damn straight Dean was going to have something to say about it, and he was pretty sure 'poisoning' Sam's mind against the guy was going to be the least of it.

When the man in the silver Mercedes had gone, Ian had come back inside, immediately calling to the boys that it was time to go.

Sam didn't seem quite as ecstatic about this little shopping adventure as he had at breakfast, but Dean could see potential in the trip: Escape potential. If Ian was planning on hurting Sammy, then Dean had to get him away. It was as simple as that. He had to get Sammy away to somewhere safe. He had to get to Pastor Jim's. He'd know what to do.

Dean was only too aware of Ian's incessant glances in the rear view mirror throughout the drive, and he couldn't help wondering if the guy could read his mind, see what he was planning. Or maybe he didn't need to be psychic; maybe he just needed to read Dean's body language; the way he held a protective arm around his little brother's shoulders; the way his eyes hadn't left the mirror all the while Ian had been in the car; the way he set his jaw like some kid soldier about to go into battle.

Trouble with a capital 'T'.

That's how the Acolyte – Mrs Pritchard – had described Dean, Ian remembered. Get rid of the older kid and you'll have no problem getting the younger one…

Dean saw Ian squeeze his eyes shut as he started the engine, and couldn't help wondering what he was thinking about.

"You sure you don't want to sit up front, Sam?" Ian had asked then, reopening his eyes and forcing a smile. But Sam just shook his head and moved closer to Dean.

Of course, Dean hadn't been able to resist flashing a triumphant smirk at their alleged Uncle, whose own plastic smile never faltered.

Dean knew he could be wrong about Ian. And he knew he could be wrong that whatever Ian was up to meant danger for Sam, but Dad had always told him to follow his instincts and they'd very rarely steer him wrong.

Right now, his instincts had joined in a chorus with the little voice in his head that had reverted to screaming, protect Sammy, protect Sammy, protect Sammy… over and over again, unrelentingly.

So that's what Dean was going to do.

If this guy really was their Uncle, then he'd understand.

If he wasn't…

If he'd done something to their Dad…

If he was planning on doing something to Sammy…

Not. Gonna. Happen.

Dean would see to that.

The mall was so huge it hurt Dean's eyes. Dad wasn't one for shopping, and he and Sam had rarely had time to hang out in places like this after school, like normal kids.

He felt Sam tug at his sleeve, and his arm automatically wrapped itself reassuringly about the boy's shoulders.

"So," Uncle Ian said, the light, friendly tone his voice had taken at their initial meeting having returned full force. "Kid food." He glanced down at the two of them, as if assessing puppies in a pet store window. "And kid clothes."

"What's wrong with our clothes?" Dean demanded, as if criticising their appearance was a slur on their Dad. Which of course it was.

Ian smile apologetically. "They're just a little…" he paused, searching for the right word, "…old," he explained. "Wouldn't you like some new stuff?" When Dean didn't reply, he added, "Huh? Sam?"

Sam, always the one craving normality, could think of nothing better than being bought new clothes by a previously unknown uncle, rather than the hand-me-downs and stuff their Dad got at the Goodwill he usually had to make do with.

But right now, he was pretty sure Ian wasn't just after buying clothes.

And Sam wasn't going to be bought.

So he merely shrugged, a perfect imitation of his big brother.

This time, Dean didn't even try to hide the smirk. That's my boy…

Ian's smile remained rigidly plastered across his face. "Well okay," he said, trying to hide his disappointment but failing pretty miserably. "Look, I need to pick up some stuff, so I'm going to let you two have a look around the clothes store anyway – "

"You're leaving us?" Sam's eyes widened in alarm, and he sounded genuinely panicked, causing Dean another stab of that annoying thing called Jealousy.

What, Sam didn't think Dean could take care of him in a mall? Dean, who'd gotten Sam through covens, lairs, nests, you name it as long as it was dark and full of bad stuff – how hard could a mall be?

Ian, however, frowned at Sam's suggestion. "No!" he burst out, sounding quite offended that Sam should think such a thing. "What kind of person would leave two little kids alone like that?"

Dean could feel Sam looking at him meaningfully, but stubbornly refused to return the look.

"I just thought you guys might want to look around," Ian ploughed on, waving casually in the direction of the cavernous clothes store on the corner. "You know. Without some old fogey like me cramping your style."

Dean would have found that funny if it so patently wasn't. So maybe Ian couldn't read his mind after all…

"You can choose whatever you like. Really."

Dean suddenly realised that Ian was looking at him for some kind of assent.

Reluctantly, Dean nodded, although the distrust was obvious on his face.

Jeez, this was one mistrustful kid. Ian had dealt with street kids less suspicious of everything than Dean.

"Okay then," Ian kept his tone deliberately light. "I'll be right over here – " he motioned to the menswear section of the store which stood just across a walkway from the kids' section. " – If you need me. I need a new suit so bad… My old ones are practically walking by themselves! Come get me when you're done, huh, and we'll go pay for what you've chosen." And with that, he turned and headed off amongst the racking, towards a couple of mannequins modelling suits that Dean thought would probably break in half if you actually tried to move in them.

Dean watched Ian's retreating back for several seconds, Sam looking up at him as if waiting for instructions.

Finally, decision made, Dean looked down at his brother, steely determination in his eyes. "You know what, Sammy?" he said.

"What?" Sam asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer. Ian may not have been able to read Dean's mind, but Sam sure as hell could.

"Don't feel like clothes shopping," Dean declared. "How about you?"

Although Sam would have liked nothing better under ordinary circumstances, he and Dean rarely found themselves in ordinary circumstances, and today was no exception.

Dean was still watching the direction of Ian's retreat in case of any unexpected returns when Sam eventually replied, "You think we can find Blue Earth?"

Dean flashed the kid a wicked grin. "How big can Minnesota be?" he asked, his voice having regained some of its usual cocky over-confidence.

Although Sam would have liked to, he didn't really believe Dean's bravado for a second. But Dean needed him to believe in him right now, so he just nodded his agreement and took his older brother's outstretched hand.

Sam didn't know whether Dean would have known what he meant if he'd described his big brother as a complete contradiction.

But that was what he couldn't help thinking as he followed him dutifully between the clothes racks, ducking down and shadowing his stealthily winding route towards the exit, always keeping cover between them and the direction Ian had taken.

Sam had never known anyone get in as much trouble as Dean did for not doing as he was told, not blindly following instructions like a good little sheep. Although Sam was pretty sure Dad hadn't read one of Dean's report cards since he was about six years old, Sam had been reading them for as long as he'd been able to read, and phrases that recurred most often usually went along the lines of, 'not a follower', 'has difficulty following instructions', or Dean's personal favourite, 'has little or no respect for authority'.

So when Ian told them to pick out clothes like good little boys, let him buy them off with presents, Sam wasn't a bit surprised that Dean intended to do no such thing.

Yet, and here was where that big word 'contradiction' came in, when it came to an order from their Dad, there was nothing on God's green earth that would stop Dean obeying it to the letter.

Dean was one big contradiction, and Sam wasn't sure he'd ever be able to figure him out completely.

Right now, he realised, all he needed to know was this: When Dean said he'd never let anyone hurt him, Sam believed him. And when Dean said they needed to get to Pastor Jim's, Sam believed that too. And while Sam was even less of a follower than Dean most of the time, right now he knew that following Dean was probably the most important thing he'd ever done.

So he ducked his head when Dean told him to, and allowed his older brother to guide him in a less-than-direct route towards the exit, heart hammering in case they should be discovered, but even more terrified in case they actually got away.

Dean might not have much of a clue how far Minnesota was from Kansas, but Sam sure as hell did.

Quite how Dean was expecting to accomplish this little road trip, Sam wasn't sure. Two kids, no money, no real clue where they were going, no weapons and no protection.

But if anyone could do it, Dean could.

Sam tried not to think about all of those special visits they'd had in school from police officers come to warn them of the dangers of talking to strangers, taking candy from strangers, and, the biggest no-no in the book, getting into cars with strangers. After all Sam, unlike most kids his age, knew that there were two types of monster in the world. And human monsters were often the worst.

Sam fought back a wave of panic. Anything could happen to us…

"Where are you going?"

Dean pulled up short so suddenly, Sam actually walked into him, letting out a startled yelp as his brother's grip on his hand tightened threefold.

Hardly daring to follow the direction of the voice, Sam finally looked up.

To see Uncle Ian looking back down at them, hands on hips, blocking their exit from the store.

Dean sighed heavily, pulling Sam slightly behind him.

"Crap," he muttered.

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Well you didn't think the Great Escape would be that easy did you?