Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. --
"Dean! Get on with it, will ya?"
Dean lifted his eyes to the coal black ones staring coldly at him, not helping as he tried to dislodge the edge of his blue jeans from the sharp twig stubbornly holding on like glue. He shook his leg in desperation, terror running through his body as he heard another scream again, this time more muffled than the first. Bending down, he ripped the twig away, casting it aside and not caring that a big part of it embedded itself into the palm of his hand. The only words running through his mind at this time was Sammy, Sammy, save Sammy, Sammy, Sam.
"Dean, hurry up, will you? Only you can stop this! That damn idiot won't listen to me. Damn the Winchester stubbornness. This thing has gone too..."
Her rambling speech ended in a choked squeak, the void eyes turned darker still, pitch black, stony. Her face was locked in a surprised stare, slowly morphing into one of absurd pain. Dean didn't care, he couldn't wait for the demon's inefficiency, he had his little brother to protect. He ran toward the cave at the far end, his heart thudding like crazy inside his heaving chest, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I'm coming.
A roar akin to thunder reached his ears, causing him to tense instinctively and he paused just a split second to turn around and see what was happening. What he saw at that minute blew his mind with the force of ten tonnes of dynamite that he froze to an absolute halt, unable to comprehend what was going on.
The demon was being expelled from the host's mouth, but instead of creating a black cloud and disappearing into the horizon, it was literally melting, melting, for hell's sake, and dropping in black, tarry puddles near the host's feet. A putrid smell rose from the refuse, taking over the freshness of the pure air, and as the last drops hit the floor, so did the woman's limp body.
Dean stared, his eyes almost falling out of his head, still frozen in shock. Did the demon just melt, did it die? What happened in there? Dead? Can it really be? What did Sam do?
That thought jerked him back to reality, albeit with a pain in the pit of his stomach. Sammy. Sam, Sam, Sam Iam.
He took off at a faster pace, running down the small path, his breath coming in short bursts of air, his lungs burning from the strain, his brain threatening to explode with barely contained horror. His brother was in there, doing something strong enough to melt the demon and kill it. His brother was out there, welching out of the deal. His brother was out there, probably dead, true to the clause in the contract (Huh? That's the influence his wannabe lawyer Sam had on him Useless information overload). His mind could not stand it, adrenaline pumped through every vein in his body and he skidded to a halt in front of the cave.
Taking tentative steps, Dean entered the little cave, choking a little on the smoky air. The remains of a fire glistened near his feet, still sending small spires of smoke into the atmosphere. Sam's knife lay next to it, covered in a thick red sheen of... blood.
Shit! Dean tried to keep his head straight, didn't want to succumb to the dizzying fear he felt, which threatened to overwhelm him. His brother's blood. Was it? The urge to gag was overwhelming, but he held himself in check. Come on, Dean, buck up. Sam needs you.
Still adjusting his eyes to the dimness of the cave, he searched the dark recesses for something, anything that could bring his brother to him. All he could make out were dark shadows, dull hulking rocks and slimy reflections of wet moss on the walls.
Suddenly, a movement caught the corner of his eye. His eyes shifted immediately to give him some clarity on that movement, desperately hoping it was his brother, and desperately hoping it was not. His voice came out in a raspy whisper:
"Sam? Sammy?"
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a growing horror dawned on Dean. The big lump on the floor was bloody and messed up, and looked like it was ripped to pieces, meat thrown to the dogs. it was strangely silent, but overwhelmingly familiar. It was the same figure that Dean had held when it was born, cared for through all the teenage years, carried out well-planned prank wars with and who held Dean's very breath in his pinky finger.
Dean ran now, not caring about anything, dropping down on his knees, reaching out trembling hands. Sam.
So what do you think? Will Sam survive? What did he do exactly? Is Dean's deal null and void?