I have been doing a graphics contest, sorry. My little bird Alisa, reminds me about posting, thanks love. And because I checked my email today (Which I rarely do) and saw I got a review from michelle kelly asking to post for her, I will. So, love, this one is for you. Now, again, THANK YOU to all of my reviewers. After I finish posting this I should have time to go and personally thank you all. Thanks so much. One more chapter left. I shall post it later today, or early tomorrow - promise. Loves! Lo.

Chapter Eleven

Everything in the room stopped. An eerie silence spread throughout the space; no matter what comforting presence was offered up to destroy its looming company it couldn't be vanquished. The impassive energy encompassed the atmosphere densely, filling the air with a quiet quake of impending premonition.

Dean numbly wobbled towards the altar, not even a faint whisper or breath passed his frail lips. As he walked, no one uttered a sound. The sea of clichéd black cloak wearing occultists moved aside. As the mounds of black clothed followers parted, Dean could see Katz standing at the base of the altar. His lengthy framed body denying Dean the necessary access to his brother's still form. Dean watched in awe as the Asian man moved aside, never protesting as he let Dean walk up to Sam.

Dean unknowingly put a hand to his mouth, as his thoughts slipped in and out of his mind, interweaving through his brain brutally, mocking him with the cruel reality that his brother was going to die. Dean shook his head, no; he would not give up hope, he would find a way to save his brother. Dean stared at Sam with cautious eyes. Sam's hazel hued eyes locked tightly with Dean's, astonishment interconnecting within Sam's irises; realization that his brother was alive disentangled the feeling of grief, but quickly replaced it with regret.

"Dean?" Sam whispered bewilderedly.

Dean stood there staring, petrified; his eyes still fixated on his brother's confused ones. He noticed his hand was covering his mouth, and hastily placed it back in its proper place, next to his side. The pressure in his throat released, as he reverently spoke, "God, Sammy. What did you do?"

Sam didn't know what to say. He stared blankly into his brother's worrisome eyes. "I don't know… You were… and… God, Dean. What did I do?"

Dean tried to rid his body of the immobilizing numbness, and shock that was still smothering his mind. A few minutes had passed and the room was still completely muted. Dean ignored the silent bodies of the occult and turned around, intent on getting the lock pick and freeing his brother. Before Dean had even taken a step, Katz raised an arm and placed his hand on Dean's chest. Dean was about to retaliate when Katz dangled a silver item in front of Dean's view – A skinny silver key.

Dean was going to ask the man why, but decided against it. Maybe Katz had seen there was no point to this ritual, as it obviously hadn't worked. It had been almost ten minutes since Sam had screamed the final word of the incantation, and nothing had happened. Dean took the keys and unlocked his brother's hands and then moved down towards the end of the altar, and freed his legs as well. He helped Sam sit up and his brother immediately started coughing. Dean shed Sam's torso of the torn sweatshirt and undershirt, replacing them with Dean's jacket.

Dean didn't question Katz's altruistic behavior; he simply accepted it, blinded by his own selfish delusions. Dean would trust his conviction, his belief that everything was okay. Nothing had happened to Sam, and nothing would; and he would ensure that it would stay that way. Dean grabbed hold of Sam's bicep and helped Sam off the altar. No one stopped them as they walked towards the wooden steps.

"Dean, where… are we… going?" Sam wheezed, his breathing was stable, but it wasn't fully unlabored.

"Hospital," Dean said curtly, as he pulled one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, forcing most of Sam's body weight to be supported by him.

Each creak in the wooden steps echoed throughout the room. Every aged-worn sound that rippled throughout the stairwell meant they were one-step closer towards freedom. Dean continued to carry Sam up the stairs, noticing that his brother was straining, and silently wincing as they ascended the noisy wooden planks.

Dean, exhausted, rounded the corner once they had reached the top of the stairs. A giant metal lock blocked off the back door, in which they had originally entered. Dean didn't' have the time to either, a: Break it down, or b: Well, break it down. So he opted for the latter decision, which was, make their way towards the front door.

Dean made it into the center of the vacant nightclub. He paused briefly to check on Sam's condition. He looked over at his brother, and closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened them and sighed. "Sammy, we gotta keep going. We're almost to the door."

"Dean—"

"I know it sounds far, but you gotta keep truckin, man. We are almost there."

"Dean—d"

"I know, Sam. But once I have us out of here you can rest."

"Dean—"

"Sammy, c'mon," Dean said as he smiled at his brother. "We're almost there. I'll let the Docs' fix you up, then come back and kill that son-of-a-bitch."

Dean tightened his grip on his brother and lifted his foot to start their seeming less, never-ending journey towards the glass door.

"Dean! Stop it!" Sam snapped.

Sam mustered up all the strength he had and smacked Dean's hand away, stumbling slightly as he backed up a few steps. His eyes piercing his brother's as he stared at him contemptuously. All the pain, all of the suffering was rolled into that one stare. The hurt, the anguish, even the finality of the situation, all fused together into one emotion.

"Dean," Sam spoke lightly. "You are fooling yourself. There is no escape."

"Sammy—"

"No, Dean, let me finish. This is the end. Why are you clinging onto the hope that there is something else? There isn't. Fate twisted those rough wheels, man. And I got the unlucky draw."

"Sam, geez, man, c'mon. Nothing has happened to you, and nothing will. We just need to get out of here and get you to a hosp—"

"Stop it," Sam pleaded. His eyes transformed, no longer holding the supercilious stare they once did. Now they burned with an ethereal like repentance, his previous actions weighing heavily on his mind. There was no undoing what had been done, and Sam realized that. He just needed to convince his brother to let go of his hindering credence.

"Sam," Dean's voice was confident, almost bold, as he spoke. "Man, you are being crazy. It has been well over twenty minutes, and look, you are still here."

"Dean, look behind you. Katz and his men are up here, all around us. Why else would they be here if it hadn't worked? Think about it. You know it, but you're just too afraid to admit it. There is no way out this time. We are – I'm screwed. Simple as that," Sam said, there was a dominating finality that laced his tone.

"It is not simple as that, Sam," Dean scoffed, his arms flailing wildly in the air, defending his mind's perception on the situation with a melodramatic swing.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, the fever causing his breath to hitch briefly, before he regained his composure. "Look behind you."

Dean didn't want to. He knew Sam was most likely right. Dean turned around slowly, his legs shifting unsteadily as he swiveled around. Dean gazed at the Asian man, and the other occultists surrounding him and his brother. The opaque veil that had covered his mind, the one that had rendered him visionless, was slipping. A bright light of clarity flooded through Dean's mind, bringing with its incandescent shimmer, the startling comprehension of Katz's genuine intentions. The man had allowed Dean to take Sam out of sheer benevolence. There was only one thing that would make someone as wicked as Katz do something that charitable… death. Dean's heart skipped a beat, dread rushed through the blood-filled veins in his body. He swiftly turned around and stared forlornly at his brother. As the veil completely fell, Dean's body shook with tremors, the full knowledge of the situation racked his body ferociously. The lamenting billow in his mind swept through the rest of his senses, ensuring that all were numb, and the mortification of Dean's soul, who he was, had unsympathetically sealed.

"Sam…" Dean trailed off. His words caught in that breathless squeeze again. Now he knew, but he couldn't just sit there. That wasn't what Dean Winchester did. He was a fighter, a rebel, someone who stood up for what they believed in.

"Dean, why don't you go?" Sam offered nobly.

"I am not leaving you here. We can stop this. It hasn't happened!" Dean's voice rose, his frustration pulled to its limit.

"But it's going to, Dean" Sam said, his voice still calm. "I can feel it… inside of me." Sam paused and closed his eyes, the revolting fact that someone else's blood, and not human at that, was flowing through his veins disgusted him. He shook off the stomach curdling thoughts and opened his eyes. Staring at Dean he spoke with assurance, "Dean, this is going to happen. And you can't stop it."

Dean would not accept it. He whirled around and paced towards Katz. The man never backed down, he waited as Dean approached. Dean grabbed the man by the collar and twisted his hands around the black fabric. His upper lip twitched with fury, his eyes glared with rage. He voice shook with fierce acrimony as he spoke, "Stop it! Stop the ritual!"

Katz's face didn't hold any emotion. He gazed at Dean, and then averted his attention towards Sam. "I can't."

The words flew into his Dean's ears like the rubbish they were. They were the extra pressure needed to snap the strings holding Dean's self-control in place. Dean shoved Katz backwards, punched him and then pushed him again, but into the bar that was directly behind him. Glass and debris flew threw the air, crashing and shattering whenever they hit the ground.

Sam watched his brother from a distance. He wished it could have been some other way. The regret he had felt when he had first seen his brother was still alive, its lingering presence still nipping at his mind. Every person that had been through this ritual, that Katz had said, had died. No one lived through the process of bringing the demon forth. Sam chuckled internally at the sheer morbidity of his thoughts. Maybe he would have enough stamina to bring forth the demon. Maybe he would live. No one else had ever succeeded, but no one else was a Winchester. Maybe Sam would summon the demon and live.

Dean punched Katz again. The man's face was smeared with blood. Dean lifted up his bloody fist and connected with the man's face again.

Sam felt a brief shot of pain shoot through his body.

Katz stumbled and then quickly gained his footing. Dean hit the man again.

Another agonizing shot jolted through the young hunter, and he fell onto his knees, griping his chest.

Katz noticed Sam's decline and sneered. Dean, who was about to punch the man again, noticed the shift in the Asian man's demeanor. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sam. He let go of Katz's shirt and ran. He had to make it back; he had to stop this from happening.

Sam felt the excruciating sensation trickle down towards his hands. Still kneeling, he lifted up his hands to examine them. Palms out, he stared at them in shock. The thin lines of the gash formed symbols on his hands were now gushing out blood. Little beads streamed down the sides of his hands. The crimson droplets paused at the rim of his hand, dangling there. Sam looked up and smiled when he saw Dean running towards him. He smiled a simpered smile; one that Dean would recognize the concealed significance behind.

And he had. Dean stopped.

One drop fell. The blood-filled orb spun around the air, light reflecting on its boundless simplicity, gravity ensuring that its purpose was fulfilled – Then it hit the ground. Tiny little red beads detached themselves from their source, falling onto the ground with the same force their creator had moments before.

Dean motionlessly breathed the word, "Sammy…"

Light burst from the droplets of blood. Blue and white streamed through the floorboards, forming a symbol around Sam. Sam kneeled in fright as the symbol around his body rose. Light tore through the ceiling, encircling the younger hunter inside. A cylindrical barrier shielded anyone from reaching the center.

Dean, who was shielding his eyes from the blinding brightness of the beam, uncovered his eyes when the familiar sound of wood hitting the floor echoed throughout the nightclub. He couldn't move; he stared at the symbol in shock. The beams from the outer circle outstretched through the ceiling, tearing a hole in the nightclubs upper foundation.

Dean snapped himself out of his tranquil-like daze and focused on his brother. Inside of the beam of light was Sam, still kneeling. Dean approached with caution, staring disjointedly at the circle of light.

Dean stood inches from the captivating luminous creation. The colors inside of the beam were mesmerizing. Blues and pinks flickered in a never-ending battle for dominance. Dean lightly ran his hand around the outside of the shaft of light. Molecules formed, and a white mist danced listlessly around. Dean ran his fingers through the white wisp of fog, it held no feeling, neither cold, or hot, it was unnatural. He guardedly placed his hand on the beam; it held the same unnatural feeling.

Sam stood up unevenly. Dean could see the snowflakes from the open hole in the ceiling swirling around his brother. A melancholic wave passed through Dean's body, as morbid as the situation, his brother held an angelic presence. The flurries that fluttered around the air vanished before fully hitting the ground, but the light specs of white that danced around beforehand were heavenly. Sam walked over towards his brother. Their eyes locking for a moment, not a word uttered between them. Dean knew, and so did Sam. Sam lifted up his hand and matched his brothers; together they stood palm to palm, never touching. The room dissipated, the light beam disappeared. In their reality, it was only the two of them, still standing palm to palm. Silent tears streamed down both of their faces, each streak filled with the despairing tragedy. That one moment all was forgotten, death no longer pressing its unwanted presence, it was just Sam and Dean.

"Dean," Sam spoke quietly, the room and the light returning as it forced them back into the cruel truth they were facing. "I know you don't usually like to go all chick-flicky, but this needs to be said. He's coming and I..." Sam fell down onto his knees, gripping his chest tightly, panting heavily.

Worrisome eyes fell upon him. Dean stared in horror. His words caught tightly in a brutal grip. He couldn't say goodbye, it wasn't supposed to end like this. He had to fix this… He always did.

"Dean," Sam forced out, his breathing labored as he spoke in between each strained breath. "Take care, man. This was never… your fault. Like you said, some people draw the short straw, and I did."

"Sam, don't you dare say goodbye. Force the demon through; just hang on long enough to do that. Once it is through, I can kill its sorry ass, but do it. I need you to hang on just long enough to do that." Dean pleaded, his hand still pressed up against the light barrier that separated him from his brother.

Sam slid down the iridescent circle, the pain amounting, building, before it became too unbearable. And then fate twisted the rustic spokes of Sam's destiny. Each push was agonizing, each creak sounding the inevitability of its turn. His knees hit the ground, his body splashed with the blue glow of the gleaming symbol.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed, watching as his brother struggled to take each life sustaining breath.

A shimmering white wisp of energy started to seep out of Sam's skin. He looked at his arm in disbelief. The white vapor-like cloud twirled around in the air, illuminated by the blue tint of the symbol. His mind was muddled with the incomprehensible thought of what this substance was. The cloud started pouring out more heavily, encircling the young hunter in its inescapable grasp. His breathing became shallow; his body cold, it was then Sam realized with a sudden urgency what the substance was. He panicked and looked into his brother's eyes fearfully.

Dean was confused, utterly bewildered at the white glow that was moving about his brother's fallen form. When Sam looked at Dean, only one thought passed through the older sibling's mind – No!

"Dean," Sam struggled to voice. The notion was so crazy, but it made sense, he knew now that he was going to bring the demon forth, but that meant death as well. There was no escaping fates clutches this time, no way out. Sam paused, inhaled deeply and then continued. "It's my soul."

The statement was ludicrous. Dean's mind fumbled to coherently process the words. His soul? Then it hit him. Katz's words played over and over in his mind, like some sick joke. "You know, no matter what, he will die. Even if he says it, his soul belongs to our master." Dean's mind screamed, the words still ricocheting in his mind as he ran onto the other side of the glowing symbol. He grabbed one of the D.J's record players and smashed it into the side of the barrier. He wanted so desperately to get his brother out.

It hadn't worked. The record player into pieces once it hit the side of the glowing circle, sparks flew threw the air dramatically. Dean grabbed another piece of equipment and bashed it into the side of the symbol. His body wept with failure. He ran back around to look at Sam. His brother's form had an outpour of the white aura, flowing lethargically into the amulet that was still dangling around his brother's neck. Dean punched the side of the barrier, his knuckles stung from the sheer force he had extinguished into the blow.

Sam looked up at Dean, knowing it would be his last. He felt so tired. His body shook with the knowledge that this was it; this was how he was going to die. He tried to look past the white cloud that hindered his sight. He needed to see Dean one last time. He could see his brother, kneeling by the side of the circle, hands pressed firmly on the side, his head lying despondently on the blue barrier, looking at Sam hopelessly. Sam gathered what strength he had and crawled over towards Dean, leaning his shoulder on the glowing wall.

"Dean, man," Sam said, breaking the grief-ridden silence. "Always know that no matter what… I love you."

"Don't give up, Sam," Dean whispered, knowing it was futile.

"I can't hold on," Sam said, his eyes grew heavy; it was a burden to keep them open any longer.

Sam felt the last push of fate. The wheel turned, and then it stopped. The world darkened around him, swirling through his mind. His breath hitched, struggling for one more moment with his brother. Complete silence filled the young hunters mind. Nothing was there, just a vast plain of nothingness. He knew. He was dead.

Dean watched as his brother struggled to breathe. Dean's euphoria of delusion cracked. Sam stopped breathing and the barrier flickered, almost like a hologram. The bright light shorted out and Sam's lifeless body fell forwards. Dean caught his brother before he hit the ground.

Dean didn't know what to do. His hold world, his life… was gone. He shakily put a finger on his brother's neck, clinging to the hope that maybe Sam was alive. His finger pressed firmly on Sam's neck, but not so much as a faint pulse graced them with their presence.

Dean stared at Sam's body. He hadn't noticed he was crying, not until tiny splashes of water wetted his hand, bouncing off his brother's face. Dean brushed Sam's hair to the side. He opened his mouth; he wanted to tell Sam how he felt, but someone interrupted him.

"Master," Katz said elatedly. "You're finally here."