Sorry for the delay. My comp went down and this one isn't that great. The fan keeps going out so I had to type fast. I hope it's not confusing. I'd love to hear what you readers think is going to happen. Remember, this is just a short angsty tag and the finale will be up shortly, if this comp allows. :)

More Folsom Prison Blues

Continued...

Sam took a step back on reflex as Dean's chest wound smoked and sizzled.

Dean's arm flailed off the bed smacking hard on the night stand, smashing the thin paper cup he was still holding. The remaining holy water was forced from the cup with the pressure, saturating his hand, wrist and lower arm. His head tipped back fighting the new wave of pain, he growled out a few choice curse words, balling his other hand up he began to pound on the mattress as if the action would bring relief.

Sam's mouth wide open at the sight before him, he stood frozen. His mind couldn't comprehend what he just witnessed. It didn't want to. His face flushed with mixed confusion, all he could do is stare.

Maybe Dean's theory about her was right. She felt like a vigilantly claiming the lives of prisoners before she died and after. She took Dean because he was a law breaker. But, he was a law breaker too. He was not innocent. Not by a long shot.

Was it all an act? Dean in physical pain over what Glockner did was an act? Why? His brother was possessed this entire time by her?

Why didn't she already claim him as a victim? He was with Dean every minute since they left the prison. She had plenty of opportunities.

He wasn't by his brother's side their entire stay at the detention center. That wasn't by choice. He wanted Dean to watch his back every second of every minute of every hour. Dean fit in and he didn't. Maybe she possessed Dean from the start? That's why Dean fit in so well?

Why did she take Deacon's life? He was a guard to the prisoners. She had claimed one guard's life already but it was known he wasn't a decent one. Unless she thought Deacon wasn't an honest guard... unless... she felt he was a bad man because he helped them escape. That could be it. Or maybe she didn't care who was good and who was bad now that she was an angry spirit. Perhaps she just gave every man she came in contact with a heart attack now that she was on the dark side. But still, why was he still alive? How could she kill Deacon then jump over into Dean's body?

None of this made any sense.

Where the hell was Bobby? He needed back up. The older hunter was always reliable when they needed him. The one time he couldn't make a lick of sense out of anything he wasn't around.

He was so deep in theories and mixed thoughts he didn't hear his brother calling his name, over and over.

"Sam? Sammy? SAMMY? SAM!"

Sam snapped out of his thoughts and focused on Dean.

He was struggling to stay in an upright position. Both his legs were now grounded to the cheap carpeted floor, one arm extending into a locked brace, hand gripping the night stand tightly, the other wrapped around his mid section coddling his injured ribs.

He was leaning forward, having tried to stand up three times to his brother that looked like he was about to pass out himself. His heart was out of control but with the nasty wound over it he didn't dare touch it. He offered his body the only reprieve; holding his busted ribs.

All tries to stand unsuccessful he resorted to calling his brother's name, then yelling it. He was ready to attempt to stand again, even if he collapsed, but thankfully Sam came around.

"Dean?" Sam's voice and eyes expressing more uncertainty than he could handle.

"The one and only," he gasped, confused by the reaction he was getting, "what is it? You okay?" He leaned forward again ready for another futile attempt at standing. Sam kept eye contact with him, taking an immediate two steps back, his arms jerking out in front of him. "Stay back!"

The fast response startling him, Dean flinched causing him to lose purchase. Sinking back down into the mattress he hissed in pain, "Damn it Sam..."

Sam's mind now focusing on one thing, he began to glance around the room in search of a weapon. "Who are you? Glockner? What do you want?"

"What?" Dean watched his brother looking around the room frantically. "Sam... you know who the hell I am." It hurt to even speak. Now Dean's heart was beating fast again, and not because of anything the good nurse did. Sam's actions were scaring him.

Sam looked directly at him, menace in his hazel eyes. "My brother always salts the door and windows the second we hole up somewhere to sleep." His tone was accusing and downright unsettling.

Dean tilted his head to the side, disbelief on his face overriding the pain. "Sam. I was hurt... wound..."

"ALWAYS!" Sam shouted, zooming in on the flask that had managed to stay on the night stand upright. Holy water would do the trick. He'd have to run for it after that. Run away from the spirit or whatever the hell was possessing his brother's broken body. He had nothing to restrain Dean and he certainly wasn't going to injure him any further. He had no clue what was inside of him. The fact that Dean hadn't put up a fight yet was confusing. What ever this evil wanted from him should have gloated by now.

Dean's eyes trailed over to where Sam's were. It instantly clicked in his mind like a jigsaw puzzle. "Sammy... my chest may have done a snap crackle pop but I assure you, I'm not possessed. We burned that bitch."

"Anything is possible," Sam replied flaty, his best poker face on. The one Dean taught him.

"What? You think that white-haired one-eyed crazy bitch took over my body?"

"Anything is possible," Sam repeated.

"Look at me, Sam, I can't even stand," Dean admitted, exhaling deeply. "I don't know what she did to me...but please... I'm hurting Sam. I don't have the strength for this."

Sam glanced over at him. Dean was in fact deteriorating and here he was threatening him. Showing no comfort. He knew the trickery of evil yet his shoulders slumped. Evil was going to win this one because he couldn't stare at his brother in the shape he was in. His brain was so scrambled.

Their eyes locked habitually again.

It was going to hurt but he had to prove to his brother it was still him. "I guess what they say is true. Prison changes a man." Dean grinned through the pain and slowly reached out, gently easing the flask off the stand to his lips. "Cheers," he winked, taking a big swig.

Sam watched him guzzle it down with his shaky fingers. The puzzle clicked when he noticed the water drops still hanging on for dear life off Dean's arm hairs. The holy water didn't affect his hand and Dean knew he wasn't possessed all along.

So much for trickery.

"Um, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam. I already knew."

TBC...