Sam's eyes grew wide as the demon stood up and brushed itself off, picking at some of the scars that the blessed rod had left. It looked at Dean, slumped over, obviously dead, and smiled before turning back to Sam.
"Well," it muttered, walking up to him, "that was certainly unexpected, wasn't it?"
"Go to Hell."
The creature just grinned. "Been there, done that." It raised its hand to Sam's forehead again, opening its mouth and uttering something unintelligible. It smiled wickedly, drawing its hand away and caressing Sam's cheek. "Welcome to the family, son."
The smile faded, though, as Sam's eyes lit up.
Shallow gasping echoed through the room as Dean lifted his head. "Dammit," he muttered, glancing down at his stomach and the pole that held him to the wall.
"Look at that," the demon mused, walking from Sam and approaching Dean, "you really are an angel. Last person I'd expect. I mean, you're such a naughty boy. Lying, cheating, killing. What would daddy think of this if he were alive?"
Dean didn't reply, just grabbed the pole sticking out of his stomach and pulled, trying to dislodge it.
The demon smiled. "So desperate. So broken. So immortal." It leaned close. "I can free you," it whispered, "you don't have to hurt anymore."
Still smiling, the creature stepped back and held out a hand, chuckling as Dean struggled to free himself. The demon didn't give him a chance, and began to mutter in some forgotten language. The hunter began to glow with a soft blue light that slowly dispersed, heading toward the centuries-old evil.
As the light faded, Dean began to scream, writhing back against the wall and clutching at his stomach. From his vantage point, Sam could see the broken wings retracting into his brother's back.
The light finally faded completely, leaving Dean pinned to the wall, like some bug in a geek's collection, grasping weakly at the rod in his stomach. The demon watched, amused. "Can't come back if you're not immortal," it muttered, leaning in towards the dying hunter, "can't save your brother. You failed him, Dean, and now he's mine."
Sam watched as a look of pure terror and desperation flashed over his brother's face, and the older man's head lolled down onto his chest as life finally, permanently, left him.
Sammy shook his head, knowing there was no turning back, that his brother was really dead, and nothing he could do would fix that. "No," he moaned, repeating the single syllable over and over again as he felt his body being released from whatever hold the demon had had on it. He slid to the floor, burying his head in his hands, trying to hold back tears, to keep himself as composed as possible in front of the thing that had taken his entire family.
"Look at the bright side, Sammy," the creature cooed, kneeling beside him, "he's in a better place now. Beside, we're all the family you need."
Sam didn't hear. He was too busy thinking. Too busy regretting. He'd never told his brother that the situation was OK, that he wasn't a freak. He'd never made things right. He'd never apologized for half the things he'd done to the older man. He'd started getting used to the fact that Dean couldn't die, had actually believed that nothing could take that away. And now, his brother was dead, and his murderer had just welcomed Sam to the family.
Dean had wanted a family. Dean was the only one who could get away with calling him Sammy. Dean was going to get vengeance.
The young psychic's head snapped up, and before he even knew what he was doing, Sam had lashed out at the demon. Holly's body went flying across the room and skidded to a stop on the floor twenty feet away.
Sam turned to the rest of the cult, which had immediately run to help their fallen leader. They flew in every direction, slamming into walls, sliding across the floor, getting thrown through doors, and even hitting the ceiling. He heard heads cracking and necks snapping and he didn't care. They'd killed his brother. They'd killed all he had left.
He slid slowly up the wall and into a standing position as the walls around him began to crumble, falling to the ground. The few cult members that were still conscious ran, but Sam knocked them down without even moving. Hell, he didn't even have to look at them.
He crossed the room slowly, moving to his brother's pale, lifeless body. The pole slid out of him, and Dean crumpled to the ground. Sam knelt beside the older man, staring at his clear, unmarked shoulders. There was no sign Dean had ever had wings. There was, however, a large hole through the hunter's stomach that gave away the severity of his injuries.
Sammy felt tears burning behind his eyes as he laid his brother down on the cold tiled floor, closing the unfocused hazel eyes. Dean's pants, the wall, the floor, and the post that had been used to kill the older hunter were all covered in blood, and Sam could feel it seeping into his jeans as he knelt beside the man.
"That's good," a cold voice said from behind him, "let it out, Sammy. Feel that power. It's been unlocked now, and all you have to do is want it."
Sam spun around, an action made much easier by the thick coat of slick blood that surrounded him. "Monster," he hissed as the blessed railing post beside him lifted into the air and sailed straight toward the demon.
Holly's mouth opened wide as the demon made its escape. The pole pierced the already-dead girl's body bare seconds after the creature that had been inhabiting it left.
Sammy turned back to Dean as the muffled thud of Holly's body hitting the ground reached his ears. He was at a loss. He had nothing. There was nowhere he could go, nobody to turn to.
The hole in his brother's stomach gaped at him, reminding him of everything he'd lost. Finally, the young psychic let go of everything he'd been holding back and let his tears flow freely as he laid down beside his brother, laying his head on Dean's cold shoulder and placing a hand over the single hole that marred the older man's memory.
He cried, head on his brother's shoulder, wishing that they could slow dance just as Dean had offered in the first week after their father's passing. He sobbed heavily, remembering those days, how broken his brother had been, how much he'd needed a family. Now Sam was the one who needed a family, but there was none left. That damned demon had taken them all.
That demon, the same one that had just initiated Sammy into its cult of followers, the one that had helped him unlock all of that hidden potential. The one that had killed his brother as Sam had watched, helpless.
He needed Dean. Needed him more than ever before, but he was gone and he wasn't coming back.
Sam continued to sob for what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than a minute, mercilessly aware of how cold his brother was, how his heart didn't beat and his chest didn't rise or fall.
Wait…
Sam stopped sobbing and held his breath. He could have sworn he'd heard….
Yes. There it was again. It had sounded like a heartbeat. Faint, but growing stronger. Sammy sat up and stared at his brother, who was cold and still, but not as pale. Was that even possible?
Suddenly, Dean shot up into a sitting position, coughing and gasping as color returned to his face. His eyes scanned the room, looking for trouble, assessing the danger. Finally, he relaxed. "Man, Sammy," he muttered, "I know they were evil, but did you really have to nuke 'em?"
Sam gaped, unsure of what to say, or if he was even awake.
"Um, Sam," Dean grinned, "I realize we had this talk yesterday, but I think it's high time for a refresher." He glanced down at his stomach, where his brother's hand still sat. "Incest is outlawed."
Laughing harder than he had in the previous three months, Sam pulled his hand away, grinning widely at the absence of any kind of hole in his older brother's stomach. "You're alive," he gasped.
Dean nodded. "Guess the guy upstairs came through after all, huh?" He stood up and brushed himself off, gazing at the floor around him. "Now, let's get to a hospital. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need a transfusion or something."
Sam hopped up beside him, still grinning, still terribly aware of how close he'd come to losing the only thing he had left.
Together, the brothers walked out of the partially-destroyed mansion and into the night, shivering as the cool air hit the tacky blood that coated their clothing. "So," Dean began as they headed back to the motel, "whatever happened to our yellow-eyed friend?"
Sammy gulped. Now that his brother was back, he wasn't about to scare him off with tales of initiations and suped-up psychic abilities. He shrugged. "Just left."
Dean nodded, noticing the way his little brother avoided his stare. "You all right?"
"Fine. Why?"
"Dunno. Way you're acting, either that thing got you into the cult, or it went all Michael Jackson on your ass and left for Neverland without you."
Sam grinned. "I'm fine. Guess it thought it could come get me later or something."
"You know I'm not gonna let that happen, right?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I know." That was just what he was afraid of.
One chapter left!!!!!