Once again, many thanks to those who reviewed chapter 9 part b. I really appreciate the comments and support.

This isn't the most exciting chapter (this was also written during writer's block) and I was just happy to have written ANYTHING that moved the story along. So, here you go…

Chapter 10: The XSoloX Guided Hunt

The next day, the brothers were seated on their beds eating the breakfasts that Dean had picked up earlier that morning. Sam spoke as he ate, "How's your shoulder?"

Dean moved his shoulder slightly as though to test it, he looked at Sam with a forlorn expression, "I don't think I'm gonna be able to qualify for Hammer throw in the Olympics this year…that's four more years Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother's sarcasm. Dean smirked and redirected the question, "How's your ankle?"

Sam looked down, "I think the swelling's going down. The air cast helps…and the local."

Dean nodded, "And your blood pressure?"

Sam cleaned up the remains of his breakfast, "I think sleeping for over 20 hours yesterday helped with that."

Dean smiled, "Good, 'cause you've got research to do."

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. He hadn't expected Dean to not include himself in the work on the case. Dean noticed the expression, "What?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean looked suspicious, but let it go. He handed Sam the laptop and cleaned up their garbage. Sam looked over at his brother, "Why do you think the gun didn't work?"

Dean shrugged, "No idea and it did work…it just didn't kill the thing."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Oookay…why do you think it didn't kill it?"

Dean stopped what he was doing, and turned to his brother annoyed, "How the hell should I know Sam? I'm coming in on the tail end of this thing. You're the one that's been going at this. Why do you think the bullet didn't kill it?"

Sam pondered the question. Why would the bullet have injured the Feeder, but not kill it? He looked to Dean, "Partial reaction?" Dean stared waiting for further information and Sam continued, "Maybe…I don't know. Maybe the Feeder was affected by some of the bullet's components but not all of them. You know? Like maybe it reacted to the silver and that's why it was injured, but the bullet was missing the element needed to kill it."

A light bulb went off in Dean's head as he heard his brother's theory and combined it with what he had read in his father's journal the night before. He knew the answer. He knew why the bullet had damaged, but didn't kill. Dean went to tell his brother, but then stopped himself. This was Sam's hunt and in order for Sam to feel like he did it himself, Dean would have to let Sam find the answer. Still, even if Dean couldn't give him the answer, he could still help guide Sam… "So if that were the case, how would you know which elements damaged the Feeder and what was missing to kill it?"

Sam thought again and shrugged, "I guess we could check dad's journal again. Maybe there's something in there that we missed."

Dean nodded and fished through his bag for their father's journal. Upon finding it he threw it at Sam. Then he waited for Sam to find the answer. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Sam called him over, "Dean. It says here that fear Feeders are killed with bullets made from silver, iron, and fear induced vomit."

Dean played dumb, "So?"

Sam grew animated, "So…for Fear Feeders the vomit is fear induced. Maybe for Despair Feeders it has to be something despair induced." Sam considered his own point more before speaking again, "Maybe the Feeder was injured by the silver and iron, but it needs something produced by despair to kill it."

Dean smiled, that was exactly what he had been thinking. Now the only question was what was the final component of the bullet. Sam echoed his thoughts, "What could be produced by despair?" Then he made a face and looked up at Dean, "You think it's more vomit?"

Dean laughed and shook his head, "If it is, you're on your own dude. I'm not puking and I'm not forging a bullet out of vomit. That's all you."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean sat across from him on the other bed. "You felt despair over the last few days…"

Sam gave a half laugh- he had felt despair over the last year actually- but he didn't voice the thought out loud. Dean continued, "Did you puke?"

Sam shook his head and leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed. "No."

Dean tried again, "Well, what did you do?"

Sam thought back to the two nights he had faced the Feeder. His memories were fuzzy and primarily focused on what he was seeing rather than his own reaction. He reflected carefully, trying to separate what his body's response was from the pain of the memories. It was difficult; the memories of Dean bleeding on the floor, both real and imaginary, were vivid. Sam opened his eyes and Dean was looking at him. He had a laid-back look on his face as he patiently waited for Sam to come to an answer.

Sam shook his head in apology, "I don't know what I did."

Dean leaned forward, quiet and calm, "You're trying too hard Sammy. Don't think about the hallucination or the feelings. Just take a snapshot of yourself in the foundation."

Sam closed his eyes again as he followed his brother's advice. A minute later, he reopened his eyes, "I was crying."

Dean nodded as though he had known and had been waiting for Sam to realize it. Sam looked thoughtful, "You think the last element is tears born of despair?"

Dean shrugged, "Dunno. But that sounds about as good as anything else we've got." He got up and put on his jacket.

Sam looked at him confused, "Where are you going?"

Dean smirked, "I'm gonna go clean the car. There's still blood on the seat from when you shot me."

Sam rolled his eyes- he was never going to hear the end of that one. "Give it a rest Dean. I'm gonna be seventy years old and still hearing about that. Besides, I never would have shot you if you hadn't shown up unexpectedly."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "You're damn straight you're gonna be hearing about it when you're seventy. You freakin' shot me."

Sam laughed as his brother went on, "And I wouldn't have shown up unexpectedly if you hadn't gone all Houdini on my ass."

Sam continued laughing, "Yeah well, you don't have to worry about that happening again. I've learned my lesson, man. From now on I'll wait for you before I go off looking to kill an evil beast."

Dean turned around to prevent his brother from seeing the frown elicited by that comment. On some level, Dean was comforted to hear it. It would be nice to not have to worry about what Sam was going to do. It would be nice to know that Sam wouldn't take unnecessary risks or leave for anywhere without him. But that wasn't Sam. Sam took unnecessary risks, did stupid things, put himself in danger to prove himself…that was who Sam was. And as much as it would give Dean a more peaceful existence to have an obedient and compliant Sam around…then he wouldn't be having Sam around. Sam's latest comment only served to reassure Dean that he had made the right decision. Sam was meant to live- not be preserved. There was no point in protecting someone if the protection slowly killed them- then what would be left to protect?

Dean turned back to his brother and grinned. Sam squirmed under the grin before questioning his brother, "What?"

Dean said nothing- just continued grinning. Sam grew annoyed and self conscious, "What damn it? What the hell are you looking at me like that for?"

Dean laughed, "Nothing, just wanted to annoy you…you're so easy Sam." Sam glared at his brother through squinted eyes and Dean continued talking. "You remember that time I convinced you that you were invisible?"

Sam glared harder. He did remember that time and it served to be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. Seeing Sam's reaction, Dean laughed harder tears coming from his eyes, "Oh man. That was some good stuff." He laughed more lost in the memory, "Damn Sammy, you know, for all we grew up with, all we knew about, you had to be one of the most gullible kids that ever lived."

Sam growled from his position on the bed, feeling much less guilty about having shot his brother. "That incident scarred me for life Dean."

Dean tried to get his laughter under control, "Oh give me a break Sam. You needed some fun back then…"

Sam interrupted, appalled, "Fun? You think that was fun for me?!"

Dean spoke over him, unphased by the interruption, "…still do. Hey look, I just acted like you were invisible. You were the one who took the opportunity to walk around naked." Dean resumed his hysterical laughter at the memory of his brother walking into the living room exposing himself to their father, Dean, and three other hunters- and then trying to explain it by saying that he thought he was invisible.

Sam threw the complimentary bible at his brother's head. "Stop laughing. It wasn't funny."

Dean pinched his lips together and tried to contain the laughter for a moment before it once again burst out of his lips, "Yeah…it really was."

Sam returned to his glare. Eventually Dean calmed, somewhat, and cleared his throat. He walked towards the door, "Your Chrism+ vial is empty right?"

Sam looked at him confused, almost afraid after their last conversation of where Dean was going with that question, "Yeah?"

"And it's cleaned?"

Once again Sam answered warily, "Yeah?"

Dean nodded, "Good. That should be perfect."

Sam shook his head, not understanding, "Dean…perfect for what?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's lack of understanding, "Tears of despair Sam. You're gonna need something to collect them in if you're gonna forge a bullet out of them."

"Well, where am I supposed to get them from?"

Dean looked at Sam- disbelieving the question and the answer dawned on Sam. He made a face, "You couldn't have told me this two days ago when I was crying them?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "You think you'll have trouble finding something to despair about?"

Sam didn't know if he should glare at his brother or answer seriously as he was unable to tell if Dean was asking the question genuinely. Finally, Sam just shook his head and sighed. He threw his hands over his face, "I guess not. Although I was really hoping not to go there today."

Dean opened the door to walk out, but then stopped. He turned to Sam seriously, "Your blood pressure okay to do this?"

Sam considered that. He hadn't felt too bad since he had awoken in the morning, but he definitely didn't have his old strength back. Although, how much was the ankle and how much was the blood pressure, he couldn't tell. Realizing that Dean was still waiting for an answer, he uncovered his face and looked at his brother. "Yeah it's okay. Besides, if it's not me, then who's gonna do it? We both know you're not."

Dean smiled at that- that was true. No way in HELL was he doing it, but there was another possibility, "I could ask one of the girls. I'm sure they could cry…plus they owe me."

Sam considered it, he would have loved to get out of this particular task, but using the girls would be taking a risk. The tears had to be born of despair- not anything else. It was too risky asking someone else to cry them. He had already failed to kill the Feeder twice. He had a feeling that the third time would be his last chance at bat…and he wasn't going to take any risks with it. With him- there was no risk. He knew he could despair. He looked back at Dean and shook his head, "No. I'll do it."

Dean nodded. "I'll be outside in the car. I got my cell with me. Call me if you need me."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean. I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to wallow in my thoughts…purposefully."

Dean smirked, "Yeah, no different than any other day."

Sam glared and Dean left the room…still smirking.

+ Chrism is a mixture of oil of olives and balsam that has been blessed in a special way. It is used in Catholicism during baptisms and confirmations. It is believed that being anointed with the oil creates a seal on the person. Sealing their soul off from the corruption of evil.

It's some hard core stuff: here's a bit about how it's blessed:

The oil and balsam, being prepared in the sacristy beforehand, are carried in solemn procession to the sanctuary after the Communion, and placed on a table. Then the balsam, held on a silver salver, is blessed, and similarly the olive-oil, which is reserved in a silver jar. After this the balsam is mixed with the oil. Then, the chrism, being perfected with a final prayer, receives the homage of all the sacred ministers present, making each a triple genuflection towards it, and each time saying the words, Ave sanctum chrisma. After the ceremony it is taken back to the sacristy, and distributed among the priests who take it away in silver vessels commonly called oil-stocks, what remains being securely and reverently guarded under lock and key. (Cf. Catalani, Com. in Rom. Pont., I, 120; Bernard. Le Pontifical, II, 470-495.)

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