Disclaimer: Okay, for one last time, I don't own them. How sad is that?

Chapter 22: A Matter of Revenge

Dean cried out, the pain and blood just as real as it would have been if he had been bitten by a real dog. He pushed at the invisible weight on top of him and it was like pushing against air. He cried out again as the hound twisted.

He heard others approaching, saw the white claw marks out of the corner of his eye. Knowing he was dead if they got to him, he shoved the pain away, though it was brimming in his eyes, and looked for the shotgun he had lost when tackled.

He spied it and reached out with his good arm, his left. The hound growled, letting go of his right arm in order to stop him reaching the gun. His fingers slipped over the barrel.

A shot rang out in the night, and Dean felt the weight of the hound disappear. Another two shots echoed close to him, and another two yelps filled his ears. His hand closed over the gun and he sat up, holding his right arm gingerly.

He turned to find Ash limping towards him, gun up and right leg bloody, but a grim scowl on his face. Dean nodded his thanks at the kid.

"Come on, get inside the room," he ordered. Ash nodded and limped to the salt-lined door.

Dean didn't follow, turning once he was sure Ash was safe behind the line. He could hear the hellhounds regrouping nearby and knew he didn't have a lot of time. But the demon's triumphant laughter was ringing in his ears.

He ran for the demon, unsure of what he was going to do, but determined to do it nonetheless. The demon's chuckles trailed off as it saw him, face contorting into uneasiness and insecurity. Dean grinned at it, letting his injured arm hang free.

Five feet away he chucked the shotgun at it, knowing the weapon was useless. It flinched, bringing its arms up to defend against the throw. And that was when Dean tackled it to the ground.

Arms flailing, it fell, head banging against the ground as it landed outside the circle. Dean didn't care. Its whole body jerked, and Dean just spied something falling from under its shirt.

It glinted in the night air and he took the second that he had to study it. Round and made of iron, it was split into eight by braided strands of what looked like coarse , night-black hair tied to the edges. It shimmered in the dark. Dean gaped as he realized what it was. It was the answer.

His hands snaked forward just as the demon was coming round. It saw what he was aiming for and screamed.

"No!"

The shout rang in Dean's ears, louder than he had ever thought a voice was possible, and twice as desperate. It lashed out at him, but Dean took the blow, wincing at the strength just as his hand closed around the circle on the necklace.

The strength forced him off of the demon, sending him rolling to the side. But the sweet taste of victory filled him as he felt the talisman safe in his hands.

The sounds of gunfire died just as Dean realized Ash and Anya had been shooting at the hellhounds to keep him safe. Now, the hellhounds disappeared, claw marks ending, leaving a feeling of the site being emptier, leaving a safer feel on the air.

The demon panted, real terror forcing its eyes wide as Dean held up his prize. The hunter chuckled and grabbed his lighter from his pocket, ready to burn the fur twined to bind the hellhounds to the demon.

"Wait!" it screamed desperately. Dean surprised himself by doing so, pausing as the flame flickered a few inches beneath the talisman.

"Why should I do that?" the hunter demanded, eyes narrow from hate. "You're killing my brother!"

The demon leaned back, looking about desperately. "Burning that won't kill me though," it told him, taking a step forward. "What makes you think that?"

Dean grinned. "I know the hellhounds won't be very happy with you," he told it. The demon sneered.

"Doesn't mean they'll actually kill me," it responded, eyes crinkling with satisfaction as doubt suddenly surged through Dean. "And then you'll be back where you started. A dying brother and no way to save him."

"Then what do you suggest?" Dean asked. The demon licked its lips, looking about for an answer. And then an idea lit its eyes, and Dean felt the impulse to put the flame closer to the talisman.

"Make a deal with me," it told him. "Let me walk away, and I'll save your baby brother. I'll let him live."

Dean considered the idea for the barest moment before he saw the sudden triumph behind the desperation in its eyes. He snarled.

"No," he spat. "No! You deserve to die. And I think this will do that."

The demon lost control. "Than do it!" it screamed, rage flowing through it. Dean took a shocked step back at the sudden… there was no word to describe the anger it possessed. Something, like flames, flared in its eyes. "See if you can kill me before little Sammy dies!"

Dean's hand paused once more, just long enough, as dread filled him. Just long enough.

The demon lashed out, and Dean went flying. He heard a scream, but could only feel the horror as the talisman was knocked from his grip. He landed in a heap a few feet from where he had stood.

The demon was there instantly, uncaring of anything else in its intense anger. It pulled Dean away from the crumpled heap he had landed in and grabbed his head.

"You shouldn't have messed with me," it snarled. And Dean felt something surge. The site disappeared from view and Dean found himself in a hospital room. One that he recognised.

"Sam!" he screamed, terror flooding his mind as he watched, watched his baby brother dying. Doctors were all around him, talking fast in what seemed like a foreign language to the hunter. They pressed the paddles to his little brother dying and watched Sam jerk. Sudden silence, and then that monotonous line filled the room, for barely an instant before the doctors were shouting again.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed, settling with a jolt back in his own body, knowing in his very soul that what he had just seen was real. And that the demon was causing it.

He lashed out, punching as hard as he could and the demon didn't see it coming. It didn't matter. The demon took the blow like it was nothing and tightened his grip on Dean's head, leaning down closer.

"Just think, Dean. You never had any hope of stopping me," it whispered menacingly in his ear. It cocked its head, grinning infuriatingly.

"You should be thanking me, Dean," it told him. "This way you'll never have to do it yourself."

Dean's blood ran cold. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, his struggles suddenly dying. The demon's grin didn't touch his evil eyes.

"I know Daddy told you. 'Save your brother, Deany'," it cried in a high-pitched voice. The demon laughed, and its voice became deeper, hellish and beyond natural. "Or kill him!"

Dean felt the world spin as his father's last orders were spat back at him, orders he had ignored as the hallucinations of a dying man. Until now. Anger flared.

"You bastard!" he screamed, lashing out again. It did no good; the demon swatted away his efforts like it was nothing, grabbing his good hand at the last minute. Once more Dean's blood ran cold, Anya's words distant in his mind.

… the demon seals its deals with a handshake…

The demon grinned madly, and Dean stilled, suddenly uncaring. Because he could see Sam's death in its eyes.

The demon leaned down, and the world seemed to move in slow motion. He could almost feel the pulse of the magic behind the deal as the demon prepared, as it gathered its strength and…

And nothing. Nothing hit Dean and he opened eyes he didn't remember closing as the demon screamed out once more.

"NO!"

Dean's ears shook with the volume, and he flinched away, blinking as something within the demon seemed to snap. It leaned back, and then stumbled to its feet, hands up, looking at its palms. And then it turned around, eyes fearful, entire body trembling with terror.

Dean looked up at what it was staring at and saw Anya lowering her arm. In the same hand she held a small lighter, while in the other dangled the talisman. Or rather, what had been the talisman, and what was now just an iron ring, the smell of scorched hair heavy.

Suddenly it shrieked, looking about, searching. Dean got to his elbows, moving uneasily, body sore, arm thumping. He heard the claw marks return, saw them scrape the concrete ground as each set turned with the demon centred between them.

And then, with snarls sharp in the night, they turned on the demon. Dean felt each one of them lunge, though he couldn't see any of it, only the results.

The demon fell to its knees, shielding its head with its arms. It didn't help. The demonic dogs ripped into it, and blood appeared on the man it was possessing.

And then suddenly the claw marks were back, nails digging into the ground, as the hellhounds dragged the demon to the ground, reducing it to a mound sheltering uselessly.

As Dean watched, the hellhounds became louder and louder, marks moving backwards as if they were pulling on something. And what looked like a black lump began to grow on the back of the demon.

No, no lump, but a black shadow, a cloud infused with night. And the hellhounds were pulling it from the man.

It didn't take them long to exorcise the demon from the form it was possessing. The man slumped unconscious to the ground as Dean's jaw dropped. The demon shrieked once more, an unearthly, night-shattering cry that just about ripped through them. He saw Anya flinch out of the corner of his eye, but knew she was watching, steadfast.

But the hellhounds didn't stop there. Their jaws were locked on the demon's true form and its terrible shriek did nothing to dissuade them. They kept right on pulling, pulling and pulling until the demon was stretched, cries filling the air, so terrible that Dean almost felt like covering his ears.

And then it fell apart, for real.

That black cloud fell apart, like it was exploding, but only horizontally. Dean, already on the ground, felt the acrid smell of sulphur pass like wind over his head, but the others weren't so lucky.

The force hit them in the stomach, and they all three flew backwards, landing on their behinds a few feet from where they had been. For a moment they lay still, and Dean's heart pounded once, twice. And then they all three groaned, sitting up and studying the construction site.

Silence filled the air, almost eerie after everything that had happened that night. Feeling tired, Dean stumbled to his feet, almost falling but catching himself in time. He walked over to Anya and helped her to her feet.

Morgan and Ash were already dusting themselves off. Ash was still limping, wincing as he tested his leg carefully.

Dean looked away to where the possessed man was laying still. He and Morgan shared a look, before crossing the site to him.

Dean rolled him over and checked for a pulse, ignoring the scratches and bruises forming from where the hellhounds had dragged the demon from his body. He found a beat, surprisingly strong after all he had endured. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at the other three. Anya was holding Ash up.

"He's alive. We should get him to the hospital. And I think we all need it too."

At his own mentioning of the hospital, Dean felt his gut drop and dread filled him. The demon had been killing Sam. Had the hellhounds destroyed it in time? He didn't know, but he hoped to God that his brother was still alive.

He didn't say anything, just hurried Anya and Morgan along as they manoeuvred the unconscious man into the back of the Impala. Then, tyres squealing, they sped back to the hospital.

So, last chapter now!