A/N: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Another chapter! Glad the last one didn't make everyone run away screaming. This chapter is dedicated to iluvsmallville, the most recent SFTCOL(AR)S initiate--she's proud to be pimping the limp :) Anyway, do I even need to thank Gem? Is it not implied? She is my one and only beta and my sanity and virtually everything to me. She's my other half, my better half, she's me. Where you see me, you see her. I simply do not exist without her. Also, props to Lauren for the insight into accurate supernatural foes. I still took some liberties but anything that really makes any sense is thanks to her expertise :)
Chapter Nineteen
With a determined breath, Dean opened his book and made sure both passages were tagged before settling into the chair. His eyes burned from a lack of sleep, and the darkness was alluring, but he kept his focus, his gaze steady on Sam.
Sam had been reluctant to get into the bed, but Dean finally convinced him that the guise of sleep would probably have the strongest appeal to the demon. Plus, he figured there was an off chance Sam might actually get some sleep.
But Sam was too nervous to sleep, and he twitched uncomfortably under the covers.
The minutes passed. Sam hovered somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Every time his mind started to drift away, he jerked himself awake, refusing to give his mind the possibility of dreaming.
Dean occupied himself by mentally recounting all the weapons in his arsenal. When he was out of mental ammo, he let his mind drift to Sam and all the things they'd been through in the last year.
He'd been so relieved in so many ways to have Sam with him again, to have Sam nearby where he could protect him, where he could make sure he was okay. Being apart from Sam was hell--not knowing if his brother was okay, not knowing if he needed some kind of help.
But, his brother was haunted, and Dean had been avoiding it since he'd pulled Sam from his apartment in Palo Alto. In his mind's eye, Dean could still see Jessica on the ceiling, but it was only a fleeting memory. All his attention had been on Sam. But he had neglected to remember that all of Sam's attention had been on Jess.
The demon didn't make the memory of Jess or the ache of her loss haunt Sam. The demon just kept Sam from knowing how to hide it.
Dean sighed. Despite his knowledge that Sam hadn't imagined all of it, he still doubt his brother's ability to cope when the demon finally did show itself. Sam was still weak physically, and his most recent nightmare had left him jittery and distracted.
This needed to end now, or else Dean wasn't sure what would be left of Sam's sanity to save.
Sam inhaled sharply, his body stiffening. With a flash, he threw back the covers, sending up a spray of holy water. Where the droplets found purchase, the demon sizzled to visibility.
Dean began the incantation without hesitation, Latin pouring off his tongue in choppy waves.
Sam's body tensed as he moved to throw himself at the demon. But as its image flickered in front of him, the eyes came to life, transfixing his own with a penetrating stare.
The demon snarled, lashing out at Dean, sending him crashing out of the chair without ever taking his gaze from Sam.
Sam blanked, pain and numbness throbbing through him. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, his mouth was open in a soundless scream.
The force jarred Dean, but he kept his eyes focused, his voice steady. He pulled himself to his knees, still chanting, faster now as he saw the demon advancing on Sam.
From its black robes, a bony, ethereal hand ascended to Sam's brow.
OOOOOOO
Sam's fingers grasped the bottle of holy water but before he could move to fling it, coldness lanced through his mind. You think you can defeat me, Betrayer?
The whispers were paralyzing. You have killed so many, but you will not be able to kill that which you hunt.
Sam felt something tug at him harshly, jarring the bottle from his hands and making it fall uselessly to the ground. Surrender, Betrayer.
Sam gritted his teeth. He had to do his part, he had to help Dean.
He could hear his brother distantly, mumbled phrases in Latin rolling of his tongue.
You are mine. You will fail him just as you always do.
Sam tried to shake his head, tried to resist the growing coldness as it overtook him.
Betrayer.
Sam shook his head, sinking down onto the bed. The images flooded him. Jessica, burning on the ceiling. Dean, lying under his angry aim.
Betrayer.
Then Dean's eyes glowed below him, filling with rage and vengeance. He couldn't move as his brother thrashed suddenly, downing Sam and rolling on top, a grin on his face and his hands about Sam's neck. As Sam struggled for air, his brother's face leaned down maliciously, words dripping like venom from his lips. "You don't deserve to live, Betrayer."
OOOOOOO
Dean's Latin trembled and tripped, as he mentally begged his brother to resist, to use the holy water still in his hand.
But as the demon made contact with Sam's body, his brother contorted, terror freezing into his features.
Dean's heart dropped but somehow the litany coming from his mouth didn't stop, didn't slow, but moved onward at a fevered pitch.
Sam was twitching now, his body convulsing on the covers in an all too familiar way. He shouted the last words, felt them break into the air, watched the demon flinch, falling backwards from Sam as it solidified.
Rushing forward, Dean grasped the vial of holy water that had fallen from Sam's hand, spraying the demon full on. It hissed, retreating, fumbling toward the window in a haze of motion.
Dean thought to stop it, but without Sam, he'd have no one to hold it down while he finished the ritual. Sam--
He heard the shatter of glass and ignored it; Sam was his priority now.
"Sam," he called, moving quickly to his brother's side. "Sammy, talk to me."
Sam's eyes were wide, unblinking. Dean's heart stopped. No...
He reached a trembling hand to his brother's throat.
Sam's pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, faster than it should have been. Dean gripped Sam's shoulders and shook him, willing his baby brother to look at him. "Sammy, come on."
Sam's eyes remained vacant. He noticed the absence of movement in Sam's chest.
"Sam, snap out of it," he said, his voice more desperate this time. He needed to know Sam was okay, that Sam was still there. Dean didn't know what the demon had done to Sam's mind, but he knew the physical contact could not have been good for Sam's fragile mental state.
Dean felt for the pulse again, and it still thrummed but was weakening. Dean jerked Sam again, harder this time, and Sam's head flopped, his hair falling loosely about his head. "Sam, you need to wake up." His tone was harsh and to the point.
Then Sam's pupils dilated and Sam inhaled sharply.
Dean smiled, relief melting through him. "That's it, Sammy. Wake up."
Sam jerked, his eyes blinking. Then, faster than Dean was prepared for, Sam twisted away from him, spinning until he was poised behind Dean, his arms locked around his brother's head.
Dean choked, flailing, stunned by the sudden strength that had returned to Sam's movements. Sam's grip was vice-like, and it occurred to Dean suddenly that he needed to break Sam's hold and fast because his chest was already spasming for air.
He didn't want to hurt Sam, but he couldn't let Sam kill him either, so he forced his way to his feet, bringing Sam up with him. With all the energy he could muster, he slammed himself backwards into the wall. Sam took the brunt of the blow and Dean could feel his arms loosen from the impact. Exploiting the weakness, Dean slammed back hard again.
Without stopping, Dean reached him and grabbed his brother, using all his energy to propel Sam over his shoulder and to the bed where he landed in a heap.
"Sam?" he asked, moving warily toward his brother. He was concerned but didn't want a repeat of what had just happened.
This time Sam's eyes struggled for focus, full and wet. Confusion crossed his features. "Dean?"
Dean sat next to his brother with a sigh. "Yeah, Sammy."
"I...I attacked you?"
"You mind telling me what happened?"
Sam sat up, his former shakiness returning as he struggled to remain upright. "I...I thought...in my dream..."
"What dream?"
"You were...you weren't...I mean, you tried to kill me...it was in you this time..."
Dean waited a beat before prompting, "Sam?"
Sam's lower lip trembled. "It's inside me," Sam whispered. "I...I can't tell sometimes. What's real, what's not. It knows everything, knows how to use it all against me."
Sam admission was all the convincing Dean needed. "This ends tonight," he said.
"But how--"
"The thing's corporeal now. We know it's a demon of the woods. I'll go there, conjure it, bind it, then expel it."
"But--"
"But nothing, Sammy," Dean said, moving about the room, collecting his things. "This thing nearly killed you just now."
Sam's eyes were wide, filled with a fear Dean didn't like seeing. He swallowed. "Okay. Let's go," he said, rising off the bed.
Dean promptly pushed him back down. "We're not going anywhere. You're staying here."
"Dean, come on--"
"No arguments, Sam. This thing is in your mind. You can't expect to fight that."
"You're going to need my help."
Dean couldn't bring himself to comment. His heart still pounded from the vacant look in Sam's eyes after the attack and his throat still felt sore from where Sam had tried to strangle him.
Sam appeared to remember to. "I'll stay in a circle of salt," Sam offered.
"That won't protect your mind."
"Dean, you can't just go on your own. This thing is powerful--"
"But weaker now that it's corporeal."
"I don't want you facing this alone."
He met Sam's eyes and saw real concern. "I know, Sammy. But it's too risky."
"You mean I'm a liability."
"Sam, it's not like that."
"I don't want to be responsible for getting you killed."
"Sam, look, you just have to trust me, okay? Trust me. This will be over tonight. But I need you to stay here for me, okay? Can you do that?"
Sam offered up a vague nod.
"And whatever happens while I'm gone, remember that it's not real, okay? It's not real, Sammy."
Sam merely nodded again.
Dean hesitated, wishing he could elicit more understanding from his kid brother. He didn't doubt Sam's strength or his ability, but this demon was too close to his brother and had already done more damaged than he cared to admit. Maybe if he had believed Sam sooner, maybe if they hadn't let it get this far--but there was no way he could focus on killing this demon when Sam was so close to the thing that was driving him out of his mind. Sam would understand it all when this was over. There would be time for peace later. Now it was time to kill this thing.
