Chapter 17

Midnight came as expected and Sam still continued to sleep. Dean regretted having to disturb his exhausted sibling, but knew they needed to get a move on if they were to finish salting and burning Denton by sunrise.

"Sam" Dean called out breaking the silence that had dominated the room.

Sam remained undisturbed as he slept on.

"Hey Sam" Dean beckoned again a little louder this time.

Still, Sam remained asleep.

Finally, Dean got up and gently shook his little brother being careful not to hurt him in any way. Sam stirred, opened his tired eyes, and glanced up at his older brother's face.

"Sorry, Sammy, time to get going."

Sam rubbed his hand across his still bruised face, though now it was more yellow than blue. He nodded his head and with a little help from his doting brother, he went to freshen up.

Dean began readying for the hunt, going over everything one last time in his mind. He would need flashlights, shotguns and rock salt rounds…just in case, one shovel…no way in hell Sam was gonna need one, gas, and matches. Dean thought it ironic that Denton had threatened to destroy Sam once and for all with a match and some gas and here, the situation was reversed. A fitting ending to a supposed chess master…the very strategy he had used to checkmate his opponent would end up causing his own king to be taken. Dean liked that thought. Can you double checkmate your opponent? Dean wondered amusingly to himself.

Sam grabbed the wash cloth Dean had set out for him that was resting on the sink and soaked it in the warm water that was cascading out of the faucet. He gently wiped his tired, sore face. Though he had rested for several hours, it hadn't been enough. He knew he should feel the excitement of the night building inside of him as it usually did in these situations, but instead, all he could feel was fear. He didn't want to open Denton's coffin and stare at the face that lay inside it. He could still see him fresh in his mind…the spit flinging from his twisted mouth as he hissed malicious words amidst the cruel torture he was inflicting, the dark and unfeeling eyes mercilessly stabbing him with hatred and disgust. At least he wouldn't have to hear that voice again...unless it showed itself in Sam's nightmares.

Lost in thought and unaware of the time he'd spent in the bathroom, Sam began to tire. He rested his head on the wall beside the sink and closed his eyes for a moment...

"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaamy..."

Sam's eyes flashed open. Suddenly forced face to face with Denton's reflection in the mirror before him, he knew. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

Sam felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins as a déjà vu feeling consumed his mind. The same icy cold fingers from the night before entangled themselves once again in his spine. His terror was blinding, his fear overwhelming. His blood once again assaulted his skull as his blood pressure soared. His ribcage ached from the pounding it was taking from his panicked heart. His skin stung as the memories of the torturous blade slicing through it flooded his mind. He stumbled backwards, falling to the floor, taking the various toiletries spewed on the sink with him. Just as before, his body froze and, unable to make it do otherwise, Sam did what came instinctually to him. He desperately cried out for his brother's help.

"DEAN!"

Dean, on the other side of the door, had heard Denton's voice and the crash of things on the bathroom floor and was desperately scrambling over the bed that lay in his path to get to his brother.

"SAM!"

"DEAN!" Sam cried out again terrifyingly as his body lay trembling and helpless on the floor

Dean rushed the door in a panic to get it open, to reach his frantic brother on the other side. He grabbed the handle and was horrified it was locked.

"SAM! OPEN THE DOOR!"

Sam couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His head began swirling, threatening to lose consciousness.

Dean, absolutely terrified of what was happening to his little brother on the other side of the wood barrier that stood between them hollered...

"GET BACK FROM THE DOOR!"

He jumped back, raised his right leg, and kicked with all his might.

The door splintered but didn't open. Dean repeated his kick a second time more forcefully and the door unwillingly let go of its hinges.

Sam, having been unable to move, had remained behind the door and was hammered to the ground by the force of its collapse.

"SAM?"

"SHIT!" Dean swore when he realized his brother hadn't been able to move back in time.

Carefully placing his feet so as not to crush his brother under it, Dean maneuvered past the door. He quickly surveyed the tiny room to be sure Denton was not in sight and then began unburying his brother from the splintered wreckage.

"We gotta go, Sam, NOW!"

Having no time to waste, Dean grabbed his brother under the arms and hurled him over the door and out into the motel room.

Sam, dazed, gasped as the pain of his body overwhelmed him. Blood began streaming from his nose where the door had cruelly assaulted him.

Having no time to assess his brother's damage, Dean rushed Sam out to the Impala, threw him inside, started the car and took off towards the graveyard desperately trying to put distance between Sam and Denton's malevolent spirit.

Pushing the limits on his speedometer, Dean shot a look over to his little brother who was half laying, half sitting in the passenger seat beside him. He reached out to try and straighten his listing sibling and assess his condition. Blood was pouring out of his obviously broken nose and his body was literally shaking to the point of looking like he was having a seizure.

"Shit Sam! You alright?

Sam didn't respond.

Dean swerved the car to the left and made a sharp right turn. His tire went up over the curb and came crashing down on the other side, forcing the vehicle too far to the left. Correcting the wheel, he turned back to his injured brother.

"Sam! Talk to me!"

"SAM!" Dean called out again.

Fearful that his brother's life might be slipping away, Dean abruptly swerved the car over to the shoulder and slammed on the brakes. Trying to get his little brother's attention, he leaned over and shook Sam's arm.

"Sammy, are you okay!"

Startled back to reality by the panic in his brother's voice and the sudden motion of his arm, the dazed younger sibling responded.

"yeah"

Dean looked into his brother's eyes needing confirmation that he really was okay. His trembling was saying otherwise.

Noting his brother's concern, Sam tried to say more.

"Dean….God..." Sam stammered, wanting to express what he was feeling but unable to get the words out.

"Did he hurt you?"

Sam shook his head and looked down.

"No"

Dean nodded in relief.

"Not yet..." Sam added despondently, finally communicating what he was feeling in two words. He looked back over to his brother. His eyes were watery and scared.

"Not ever, Sam, we're gonna make damn sure of that, tonight!" Dean reassured confidently.

He nodded to Sam and, having heard his brother's words, Sam nodded back.

Dean gunned the engine and peeled back onto the road. With tires squealing, he checked the rear view mirror for any signs of trouble. He floored the car on the straight away trying to make up for lost time, then slammed on his brakes to take the next corner. The force of the turn threw Sam off balance.

Dean glanced over to see if he was alright. He looked back to the road and then over again. Damn, it hurt to see his little brother who had been laughing and healing just yesterday dissolving into a puddle before his eyes. God, he loathed Denton, not just for what he had done to Sam but what he had taken from Sam.

Anxiety began to grow within him about the job that lay ahead. It usually took him and Sam a good half hour to dig a grave, but Sam was in no condition to help. If Dean hurried, he could finish the job in just under an hour. The problem was, Denton would know what they were planning and Dean knew the depraved psycho wouldn't wait around for them to complete the job. The bastard would show and they needed to be prepared for it. Sam would have to be on watch, shotgun in hand loaded with rock salt to deter the bastard. Question was, could Sam do it? Dean had seen his little brother crumble at the sound of Denton's voice, understandably, but what would he do if the bastard's damn ghost appeared before him? Denton would use Sam's fears against him, try to paralyze him, and then he would take him out.

Dean felt as if he were between the demon and the devil himself. No matter which way he moved, he was bound to get Sam wounded or worse. Sam had no business going out on a hunt. He was not well enough and Dean knew that. He was placing Sam in danger simply by bringing him. But the eldest Winchester also knew he couldn't leave Sam alone. Denton would get to him and do God knows what. Dean had to keep him safe. He'd have to place Sam in danger in order to keep him safe. Damn, this was so messed up! Though it made no sense, he'd have to bring Sam and pray to God that nothing would go wrong.

Knowing that the cemetery was fast approaching and that his brother needed to have his mind in the game, Dean began to go over the plan.

"Sam, we're gonna have to work fast. I'll dig, you stand guard. Can you do that?"

Sam nodded his head.

Dean followed up by giving his brother a much needed pep talk.

"Sam, this son of a bitch is gonna throw everything he's got at you if he shows up…."

"You mean when he shows up" Sam interrupted, correcting Dean as he looked at his brother for confirmation.

Dean nodded his head having to acknowledge the painful truth his brother was holding him to and then he continued.

"You gotta focus on what you're doing, no matter what, push past your fear and kick this son of a bitch's ass. You can do this, Sam. I know you can and then it will all be over."

Sam nodded his head again. God, he needed it to be over! His head hurt, his nose was throbbing and his ribs ached. He could still see Denton's mirrored face in his mind: callous and arrogant, loathsome and menacing. He found it difficult to focus amidst the irrational feelings that were swarming inside of him. Dean's confidence was desperately needed.

Dean looked for some kind of acknowledgement from Sam. None came, so he began spewing his father's words, words he knew would help. "You know your enemy, you have your weapon, you understand the plan. Keep …."

"…. focused and do your job." Sam finished.

"That's right, Sammy." Dean nodded his head.

Dean didn't mean to sound insensitive, it's just there wasn't any room for feelings. Dean knew it, and Sam knew it too.

The words reached in through the fog in Sam's mind and brought him comfort, confidence and focus. Dean was right to quote their dad. His father's words had served them well many times. They were words the brothers had lived by and would die by. Sam was a hunter, expertly trained by a master. He had never really learned to stop his emotions as Dean had, but he had learned to override them. This was going to be the biggest test of that ability life would probably ever throw at him and he knew he had to succeed; His life depended on it and Dean's did too.