Getting Sam down the stairs was not an easy task. He could barely put weight on his injured ankle, and the tentative grip Dean had around his waist was torture on his broken ribs. By the time they reached the first floor Sam could barely restrain from crying out in agony.

Dean eased him down on the bottom step, then bounded back up the stairs to grab their gear. Coming back down he looked worriedly at Sam. The younger man's eyes were shut as his head leaned against the railing. Dean raised the heavy duffel bag high in the air and let it drop to the floor. Sam didn't even flinch as the bag landed with a loud thump right next to him.

Dean knelt down in front of his brother and called his name in a stern voice. Sam opened his eyes for a moment, then closed them again. "Are we ready?" he asked tiredly.

"Sam, are you sure you're up to this?"

The next time Sam's eyes opened they were filled with a dark determination. He sat up and held out his hand. "Give me the damn journal."

Dean handed him the book. Then, reaching into his back pocket he pulled out the silver necklace once owned by Monica Brooks. Holding it by the clasp he let it dangle, watching as the raised cross spun around. A strong gust of wind came out of nowhere; nearly pulling the necklace from his grasp as he almost lost his balance.

Dean gathered the necklace up tightly in his fist. "Sam! Start reading!" he shouted over the wind.

Sam did his best to hold the pages in place as he began reading the scripture. The mysterious wind that was raging through the old mansion was as hot as a desert dust storm. Sam had to use his free hand to keep his shaggy hair out of his eyes as he recited the Latin prayer. Dean was beside him, his brow furrowed as he stood deep in thought.

Sam continued reading as Dean dropped to his knees, pulling the duffle bag closer to him. The wind slowly began to die down as Sam made his way through the ritual. Dean was slightly comforted in that, but couldn't help thinking it was just the calm before the storm. A hint of a smile crossed his face as his hands found what they were searching for. As he pulled out the blow torch his gaze locked with Sam's, whose eyes widened as he realized Dean's plan.

The pendant once again dangled from Dean's grasp as he moved the flame closer to it. The blue flame had just about reached the necklace when a shout from Sam made him pause. As he looked towards his brother a hand caught him around his neck.

Dean gasped for air as he focused on the apparition in front of him. One look into her eyes told him he wasn't just dealing with Monica right now. The blue eyes that had stared pleadingly into Sam's soul were now as black as the starless night. The demon had fully taken control.

Dean brought the blowtorch up and thrust it at his attacker. She let out a primal scream as the flame caught her on the shoulder. The next instant the blowtorch was ripped out of his hand, and Dean was thrown backwards through the air. He hit the ground painfully and skidded to a halt, slamming his head on the information desk near the mansion's main entrance.

"Dean!" Sam screamed. He tried to get to his feet, only to fall back as the pain from his broken ribs overcame him. Sam strained his eyes, trying to get a read on how badly his brother was hurt. The steady rise and fall of Dean's chest reassured him only slightly. The sound of Dean's head smacking into the thick wooden leg of the antique desk resonated in Sam's mind. He could only hope that his brother's thick head had saved him from suffering too severe a concussion.

As worried as he was about his unconscious sibling, Sam knew their only hope was to finish the exorcism. Keeping a wary eye on Monica, Sam continued the readings. Letting out a bloodcurdling shriek, Monica whirled around, the wind wildly swirling around her long dark hair. In an instant she was before him.

In desperation Sam grabbed the bottle of holy water, inwardly wincing at the tiny amount of water that shot out. Small tendrils of smoke rose from where the droplets landed on Monica's dark dress as she retreated a few steps. Sam couldn't tell who was more surprised as he took in the shocked look on the apparition's face. Taking advantage of her hesitation Sam focused in on the scriptures, speaking them as loudly and as fast as possible.

Monica advanced towards him, her face twisted in a frightful grimace. As she reached for him again suddenly her body was wracked by a massive tremor. The wind began to die down as she stood still, folded into herself. Sam took advantage of her distraction to toss more holy water at her. An unearthly roar shook the walls as the demon struggled to remain in control.

Just as Sam thought the battle was over, Monica's head shot up and fixed upon Sam with a murderous gaze. The words caught in his throat as the journal was ripped from his hands. Sam's eyes followed the book as it sailed through the air, landing with a barely audible thump a few feet from his brother's prone body.

Sam sat transfixed as the being came towards him. Her gnarled face had become even more shriveled, cracking like rain-starved soil. Frantically he began to recite the Latin prayers as he tried to douse her with the remaining holy water.

Déjà vu struck Sam as once again the spirit's hands were upon him, only this time they locked around his neck. His remaining breath was expelled in a pain filled yell as he was yanked to his feet. As he struggled to free himself he heard a small voice cut through the ringing in his ears. He had barely enough time to register Dean's voice before he found himself airborne, landing not far from where Dean sat with their father's journal in his lap.

The pain in his ribs was almost too much to bear. Sam closed his eyes and tried to give himself over to the comforting, pain-free darkness. Dean's frantic voice pulled him back, and Sam forced his eyes open.

"Sam! Sam, come on, dude, stay with me." Dean pulled on Sam's sleeve.

Dean watched as his battered younger brother pushed himself up onto his elbows. Dean had woken up just in time to see that the ritual Sam had been reading was working; the demon was weakening. Monica's necklace was still wrapped around his fist as he continued reading where Sam had left off.

Sam's bottle of holy water was just a few inches beyond Dean's left foot. Wincing at the pain in his own injured ribs, Dean leaned forward and used his foot to pull it closer to where Sam lay. "Sam, grab the water!"

The two battered siblings sat next to each other and in one voice continued reading the sacred words. Monica rushed forward in a fury, only to stop short as if some invisible force obstructed her path. She fell to her knees in obvious pain as the Winchesters, bolstered by the sight, continued reading in a strong voice.

Dean felt Sam's hand grip his arm and he looked up to see the being struggling towards them once more. "Keep reading!" he shouted.

Dean staggered to his feet, listing as the dizziness took hold. Sam was shouting now, his words could barely be heard over the unearthly sounds emanating from Monica as the demon raged within her.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti! Amen!" Holding his breath, Sam lurched to his knees and tossed the last of the holy water, a cry of pain escaping his lips as his sudden movements reeked havoc on his ribs.

At the same time Dean threw the pendant at Monica. Whether it was fate or pure dumb luck Dean didn't know, but he watch in amazement as the necklace and the holy water met in midair, and continued towards their target.

A brilliant flash of light blinded Dean as the necklace hit Monica in the abdomen. A shockwave stemming from Monica sent Dean to his knees as he shielded his eyes from the brightness.

After a few seconds had passed Dean lowered his arms, blinking at the spots that flashed before his eyes. He whipped his head around, trying to assess the situation. Scorch marks marred the floor where Monica had stood, the silver necklace laying amongst the black. However, Monica was nowhere to be seen.

"Dean? Did we do it?" Sam looked just as confused as Dean felt.

"Um, I think we did."

With a groan, Dean got to his feet and walked towards the necklace. He started to bend over to retrieve it, but the wave of vertigo and the sharp pain in his ribs forced him to bend at the knees. Epson salts, here I come, he though to himself as he envisioned the long hot bath he owed himself tonight.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam's voice had a hollowness to it that sent chills down Dean's spine. Before he could ask, Dean saw what had unnerved his brother. Standing barely three feet in front of him was the nearly transparent image of a beautiful young woman. Her warm smile extended all the way to her deep blue eyes. Her long black hair cascaded past her shoulders, falling just past the black lace on her dark dress.

"It's her." Sam whispered.

Dean found himself speechless as he stared at the spirit before him. He sensed movement behind him, but could not tear his eyes away. Out of the corner of his eye saw Sam come and stand beside him.

"The demon, it's gone?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Monica's smile grew even wider as she slowly nodded her head. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. She graced them with one last smile as she began to fade from view. Both men felt a velvety touch caress their cheeks as her soul connected with theirs, whispering her gratitude.

For a few moments they stood side by side, wounded, exhausted, yet feeling a sense of tranquility. They had defeated a dark power, and in doing so had freed a pure spirit. More importantly, they had accomplished it together. No matter what the world threw at them, despite the unintentional harm they often caused each other in words or actions, the bond the two brothers shared could defeat even the most powerful evil.

Dean broke himself out of his reverie and cleared his throat, amazed at how loud it sounded in the still room. "Come on, Sam. We've still got one piece of business left."

Sam looked at Dean for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. Dean gathered up their gear, trying not to wince as he slung the duffle bag across his right shoulder. Walking back over to Sam, he offered his left shoulder to his hobbling brother, who gratefully accepted the assistance. With one last look back, they walked out of the Brooks Mansion for the last time.

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Author's Note: There is only one chapter remaining, which I will put up as soon as humanly possible (hopefully by the weekend). Thanks!