A/N: The only way I'm getting this chapter out before Wednesday evening, is if I post it now. While I really don't like what I have now, I also want to get this out ASAP, so I'm posting despite my better judgment on the quality of the writing. I hope this chapter works decently and doesn't totally destroy what I was building, but whatever--at this point I've just got to go for it. Much thanks as always to Gem.

Chapter Eighteen

Dean researched until dawn and fell asleep as the sun was still low in the sky. By the time morning had come fully into itself, he was sprawled awkwardly in the chair.

He awakened with a crick his neck and an ache in his back in the morning sunlight.

He forgot his stiffness, however, as the events of the previous night came sharply back into his memory--Sam and the demon.

One of those things he could deal with later. The other, he had to deal with now.

He stood rigidly, grimacing as his back protested. It was nearly noon, and Dean knew the sedatives in Sam's system should have worn off by now. He never liked it when Sam was incapacitated in any way, but he couldn't say he was eager to deal with explaining the truth to Sam, not after everything that had happened. Part of him feared that was had been broken by all of this, and Dean didn't know if he could assuage the emptiness he had seen in Sam's eyes.

But no matter what Sam's mental state was, Dean needed to be there for Sam, and he needed to move ahead in conquering the demon that started this.

As he approached Sam, he saw his brother stir, rolling toward him. He opened his eyes. "Dean?"

Dean sat on the opposite bed, leaning down to be in Sam's field of vision. Purposefully, he plastered a smile across his face. "Hey there, Sunshine."

Sam licked his dry lips, trying to ease the cottony feeling in his mouth. He squinted in the daylight. "...this a dream?"

"Nope. This is the real thing."

"Why am I not in the hospital?"

"Busted you out, that's why. And you're heavy, Sam, especially when you're doped up."

Sam's brow creased deeply as he tried to make sense of it. He remembered the hospital, remembered it vividly, but he also remembered the pawn shop, Dominic... "But I thought...it wasn't real? Is this real?"

Dean felt his lightheartedness give. Sam's grip on reality had seemed uncertain before, but ever since Dean had first disbelieved, Sam had seemed to fold into himself. To see Sam so unsure, so confused--it was difficult to deal with. He only hoped he could buoy his brother's mental acuity up again with his renewed faith. "This is real. It was all real, Sam. Well, the pawn shop, the things you saw, Dominic--they may not exist like you'd think, but they're no illusion, not for you."

Sam slowly pushed himself up. "What do you mean?"

"Come here," he said, with a nod to the surveillance equipment. "Let me show you something."

Sam tentatively pushed himself out of bed and followed his brother to the monitor. The tape was cued and Dean played it.

"Sam, you were right."

Surprised colored Sam's face; his wide eyes revealed suspicious uncertainty.

"Look. Right there. See the imprint? I did some research. It's a demon all right."

Blankly, Sam looked from the recording up to his brother, his mouth somewhat open.

"You were right, Sammy," Dean repeated, trying to convince his brother. "Something's after you, in that freaky little head of yours."

Sam's brow crinkled again. Dean had been so adamant before, that it was all in his head, and Sam had trusted his brother's word over his own sense of reality. The sudden shift in his brother's thoughts made his mind reel. "You mean...I'm not..."

"Not crazy. Least no crazier than usual," Dean said.

"But...you said..." Sam remembered the empty lot, the blank card, Dean checking him in to the hospital. It's not real, Sam.

Dean looked away, hoping to hide his guilt. "I know what I said, Sam." He paused.Showingworry and fault was not somethinghe was good at, buthe needed to do it now. He met his brother's eyes."I should have believed you. There was--just no evidence, and I didn't know what to think. I was worried, and I made the wrong call on this one."

Sam shook his head slowly. This didn't make sense. It's not real, Sam. We've got to help you, little brother. Sam felt himself pulling away, trying to hide within himself. He remembered the small hospital room, the doctor, the nurses, the sedatives. "This is a dream. You're just trying to confuse me. Dean said I needed to stay in the hospital--"

"Sam, stop. I know what I said before. But that was before all this," Dean insisted. "Trust me. This is real."

"But then why did you take me to the hospital? How do I know that was real?"

Dean contained his frustration, gritting his teeth. He needed Sam with him on this one, but clearly more damage had been done to Sam than he cared to admit. I should have believed him sooner. "You're going to have to trust me. I'm sorry for what's happened, for you not knowing what to believe, but believe me now. This is not a dream. You have to believe it, because I believe you."

Sam studied him, looked for any sign that this Dean would turn on him, vanish into nothingness like his other dreams and visions. But the scene was unchanging, even after a long pause, and Sam had no other choice but to trust in it. The questions--why had Dean put him in the hospital, why hadn't Dean believed him then--could wait, had to wait. It was easier to deal with the supernatural problem rather than the emotional one. Sam reached down and rewound the footage, playing it again. "What is it?"

Dean reached to his notes, almost relieved for the change in topic. "Well, I think I've found it. It's a demon. It's non-corporeal and ancient, from the looks of it. That's why it's able to move in and out of things, why it's able to get around without anyone seeing it."

Sam chewed his bottom lip. "But don't even non-corporeal demons usually have some point of reference, some safe haven where they would spend most of their time?"

"Usually. Unless something draws it out."

Dean held Sam's gaze and understanding passed between them that neither of them could give voice to.

Sam pressed his lips together thinly. "Wouldn't it go back, though, return there? Even a strong demon would want someplace safe to recuperate."

"Right. From what I can tell this is a Celtic forest demon. They usually stalk the backwoods and are pretty elusive. There have only been about three recorded interactions with humans that I can identify."

"And what happened?"

"Well, in two, the victims are just described as hearing voices and then progressing into madness before killing themselves. But they insisted something was after them, all the way until the end. There's one recorded case, though, of a priest in England who caught one. He claimed to exorcise it, but the Church didn't believe him. He was excommunicated and never heard from again."

"So they can be caught."

"And exorcised."

"But we've got to find the exorcism."

"Already on it," Dean said, reaching for their father's journal. "I think I've found something that will work. Any exorcism powerful enough to do what we want is going to take awhile, so we have to make the thing visible in order to be able to pin it down long enough to complete it."

"How do we hold it down?"

Dean shrugged, hiding his nervousness. It was never easy to put Sam in danger, and he hated to have to do it after all of this. "We have to give it what it wants."

Sam pursed his lips. "Me."

"If we can preoccupy it, we can finish the first part. Once that thing is corporeal, we'll have a much easier time keeping that thing in one place. Which leaves only one question: how do we find it?"

Sam's face was grim. "We don't have to. It'll find me."

OOOOOOO

Sam had insisted on looking through the journal, double-checking Dean's exorcisms and his conclusions. Dean watched as Sam stared at the screen for a minute. Then his kid brother's eyes would lose focus and his head would drift down toward his chest before Sam jerked it up again.

After about the fifth time, Dean said, "You might be more comfortable on the bed."

Sam looked blearily at him, his brow knitted. "I can't fall asleep."

"Sam--"

"Don't let me fall asleep, Dean. Please. I don't want to dream anymore."

"Sammy, you're still exhausted. Demon or not, you need you rest."

Sam shook his head with pleading eyes on his brother. "Please."

"It comes when you're asleep. And we are trying to lure it here."

"It comes if I'm awake or asleep."

"So it shouldn't matter if you're asleep or awake and you'll feel better if you sleep."

Sam looked desperate, his fear completely unhidden in his pale features. "Please."

Dean let out a low laugh. He couldn't bring himself to force his brother into something again, not after being so wrong about it before.. "I can't wait until this is all over and you can finally get some real rest, bro."

With that, Sam looked away. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

Dean raised his eyebrows and turned his attention back to the TV. This time Sam deserved to make his own decision. Besides, it looked like sleep was getting the better of his baby brother after all, as Sam's head fell forward again. This time it took Sam longer to raise it and Dean saw less coherency in Sam's eyes as he did. It was only a matter of time.

OOOOOOO

He could feel the electricity in the air. He could smell it.

The smell was pervasive. It was the first thing he noticed as he went back downstairs.

It smelled like burnt flesh. And he would know. He'd burned enough bones to know.

"Dean!"

There was no answer, not a sound, just the buzzing of fading energy dissipating in the dank air.

And Dean was pale, he was crumpled, he was limp. Paler, more crumpled, more limp than Sam has ever seen him.

He couldn't feel his jeans soaking through as he waded in after his brother. He couldn't feel the clamminess of Dean's flesh as his head flopped in his hands. He couldn't hear the panic in his own voice, couldn't hear anything over the deafening silence and stillness that emitted from his brother.

You failed him, you left him and he died. You killed him. Again. And again. And again.

He felt for a pulse, looked for a sign of life.

You're my brother and I'd die for you.

I'd die for you.

Then why didn't you, Sammy? Why didn't you?

Sam stumbled away, falling into the water. Dean stood over him like an apparition, his ghost as gray as his body.

"You left me, Sammy. You left me and it killed me."

"No, Dean, I--"

"You killed me."

"No--"

"Betrayer."

Sam shook his head, desperately, opened his mouth to speak but nothing came.

Dean knelt in front of him, narrowing his glowing eyes. "You are the betrayer."

Sam couldn't move as Dean reached a pale, wispy hand out to him. He wanted to pull away but found himself immobilized by his brother's eyes.

"You are mine."

OOOOOOO

Dean had watched as Sam's head drifted again to his chest and stayed there. For a second, he considered honoring Sam's request and prodding his brother awake, or at least moving Sam to the bed where he could be more comfortable. But Sam looked beyond exhausted--he looked dead on his feet, and Dean knew that if Sam was going to be any help at all when the demon finally came, he would need to be much better rested. As it was, he hated Sam to be in the middle of it all. The idea of Sam as bait never did sit well with him.

Sam had only been asleep for a few seconds when Dean noticed something was off. He heard Sam drag in a rough breath and for a second Dean thought Sam was merely waking up, but as he studied his brother, he noticed Sam tensing but his head stayed down. He was dreaming.

Dean straightened immediately. Is it the demon?

He hadn't expected it so early; though it had stalked Sam at all times of the day, it seemed to most prefer to visit Sam's dreams at night, and Dean had hoped that its run in with the Celtic symbol would have dampened its motivation to attack again.

With Sam asleep, Dean knew he had to check for the demon himself. Carefully, he leaned forward, grasping his own bottle of holy water. He unscrewed the cap and splashed the contents towards his brother.

Nothing.

He tried again.

The droplets found no purchase. So maybe this one's just a nightmare.

If there was no demon present, there was nothing to exorcise. But there was still Sam's nightmare to deal with. Just as he moved to rouse his brother, Sam jerked away with a startled gasp, his eyes wide and terrified.

"Sammy?"

"Dean, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam let out in a rush, his words blurring together in a frantic plea.

"Hey, Sam, slow down," he said.

Sam turned his eyes to him, filled with tears. "I didn't mean to--I'm sorry--please, I'm sorry--"

"Sorry for what? Sammy, it was a dream."

"I killed you. I betrayed you. I--" Sam dissolved into tears.

Dean watched, slack-jawed, uncertain of what to do. Clumsily he reached forward, letting a hand rest on Sam's arm.

Sam flinched and tried to pull away.

"Sam, it was a dream. Okay? The demon, remember?"

Sam swallowed a sob and looked up. "The demon?"

"Yeah. The one that's after you."

The knowledge registered slowly in Sam's mind. "Is it...here?"

"No. Not that I can see."

"But then..."

"Sam, it's already been in your mind. Who's to say what kind of suggestions it's already left in there that work without its presence?"

Sam wiped his nose. "Why...why did you let me fall asleep?"

Dean sighed and leaned back on the bed. "You need it. Besides, you had barely been out for a minute when the dream started. Whatever's going on, the effects are getting stronger."

Sam nodded distantly, trying to regain control of his breathing. "It's so real, Dean," he whispered, a hint of horror in his voice. "It's so real."

Pursing his lips, Dean tried not to show the depth of his concern. "I know. Which is why we're killing this thing. Whatever it wants, it's bound to come back and attack you again. So we'll be prepared. We'll send this thing back to hell where it won't bother anyone. Okay?"

Sam couldn't meet Dean's eyes.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice flat. "Okay."