Authors Note: Okay, this chapter is a little shorter than usual. But I've had computer problems and haven't been able to work on the story much. So I thought I'd get this up before everyone forgot about it! Even though it's short, let me know what you thought! And thanks again to everyone for reading and for the reviews!

Chapter 6:

Dean growled in frustration. He wasn't a damn artist. But he figured he was drawing the symbols good enough, cause they just weren't gonna get any better and they didn't have time for Sam to do all of them. He glanced at his watch. They had already been in the house for over an hour and a half. He only had two more symbols to go. Sam should be about done too. Actually, he wondered why his brother hadn't shown up next to him already. After all, Sam was an artist and he was fast. He should have been done already. But knowing his perfectionist brother, Sam was probably worrying with finishing touches. He would probably tell Dean how much his drawings sucked.

Dean was surprised they had lasted this long without the witches making an appearance. He was definitely glad, but something didn't sit right with him. Especially after his dream. He began to feel uneasy and he kept throwing glances over his shoulder and around the room. He kept expecting to be attacked at any minute. Satisfied with the drawing he was working on, he moved into the master bedroom to finish the last one. He had his back to the door, drawing as fast as he could when he heard it. Foot steps. Heavy, not trying to be sneaky. He spun around and almost dropped from shock. The chalk fell out of his hand and so did his gun. His eyes flew wide and his mouth hung open.

"No way." Dean said, shaking his head. "No way."

"Hey dude." John Winchester said, smiling at his son.

"Get the hell away from me." Dean shouted.

John smiled. "Is that any way to talk to your father?"

"My father's dead and buried."

"Not buried."

Dean clenched his jaw. He closed his eyes for a just a moment and took a deep breath. "It won't work. You're not going to get to me."

John began to move closer. Dean backed up, stopping only when he had pinned himself to the wall. "I thought I made the right decision Dean. I thought it would be better for Sam if it were you here with him and not me. But you're making me think that was the wrong thing to do."

"What are you talking about?" Dean mentally shouted at himself for having a conversation with this thing, but he couldn't help it.

"I've always trusted you Dean. You were always a good son. But I don't think Sam is safe with you anymore. Maybe I made the wrong decision." John paused for a moment, his eyes shutting briefly before he said, "I should have let you go."

Dean was floored. Even though he knew this wasn't real, he felt his heart beat faster, and emotion welling up. Stop it! He told himself. This isn't real.

"But I am real Dean. I've been watching you. You've been pushing Sam away, letting him get hurt, letting him tell his secret. You must be punished son."

Dean stood in shock. This thing may not be his dad, but it was right. He didn't know what to do. He looked up and stared into his father's eyes. They eyes that were so familiar to him. And they were just what he remembered. He wished for a moment he could see the yellow eyes staring back at him, so he could know the words weren't real. He shook his head, they aren't real. Stop it. He looked back up again and this time his father was mere inches from him.

"I'm sorry son." John said and began to reach for him.

Dean braced himself, frozen to where he stood. He fully expected something to happen, but not what did happen. Suddenly a bang rang out, echoing off the walls, making his ears ring. Within seconds his father had disappeared. Where he once stood now stood Sam, shotgun in hand, and still smoking.

"Dean? Are you okay? Dean!" Sam shouted, giving his brother a shake.

Dean snapped himself out of his haze. "Yeah...yeah...I'm fine. Thanks Sam."

"What the hell was that? Why weren't you fighting it?" Sam asked, even though deep down after his own experience he knew why. He just never thought his brother would fall for their tricks as easily as he did.

"I...uh...I don't know." Dean was speechless. He honestly didn't know why he wasn't able to do anything but stand there and be manipulated. But he did know. Because no matter what, his heart kept telling him that was his Dad, and he couldn't kill his Dad twice.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

Dean realized he was dazing off again. "Sorry. Yeah...let's get this over with. This is the last one I have to do." He turned away from Sam quickly and finished off the symbol.

Sam wanted to say something more about what had just happened. Or about what happened to him, but he thought better of it. Dean definitely wouldn't want to talk about it, and now was not the best time to delve into their emotions. So he just fell back into gear.

"Okay, we just need to get the last three done in the hall." Sam glanced at his watch. "It'll be dark in about forty five minutes. We need to hurry."

Dean nodded and followed Sam out of the room, but not before glancing over his shoulder one last time.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Darkness had fallen over twenty minutes ago, and the boys had finally finished the last symbol. They both took a moment to prepare themselves and get ready for the fight that was sure to be upon them. Sam double checked his weapons. Then suddenly he made a face and said, "Shit!"

"What!" Dean asked, instantly on alert.

"I forgot about the candles!"

"What candles! Damn it Sam, we don't have much time." Dean said.

Sam dug a handful of small round black candles out of his jacket. "We need to light these and put them near some of the symbols. Damn it!" Sam threw a couple at Dean. "We only need three of them, since there was three witches. One downstairs, one up here, and one in the center of the hall."

Dean nodded. "I'll get downstairs done." He started to leave and then turned back. "Be careful Sam."

"Back at you." Sam said.

Dean was lighting the candle in the living room when he heard it. That loud shrieking that seemed to fill the entire house. He squinted his eyes scrunching up his face at the sound. He wanted to cover his ears, but he didn't want to lay down his weapon. He turned and began to run up the stairs to Sam. When he reached the bottom step he looked up to see Sam standing at the top, his expression much the same as Deans.

"Start it Sam!" Dean yelled.

Sam nodded and began to turn away when a flash in the middle of the stair way caught his eye. It was a ball of fire. His eyes widened as he saw the ball of fire head straight down towards Dean. He watched in helplessness as in a split second Dean's eyes widened and he was hit square in the chest, sending him flying backwards.

"Dean! No!"

He landed a good five feet back, hitting the ground with a loud thud that Sam could hear above the screaming. And just as Dean's body relaxed to the floor, the fire ball disappeared and the screaming stopped. Sam took off running down the stairs, falling to his knees beside his brother.

He tore open his jacket and saw the horrible scorched shirt and burns along Dean's chest.

"Dean! Dean, open your eyes man!" Sam urged, gently slapping Dean's cheeks.

Dean gasped, jerking for the breath that was knocked out of him. Sam grabbed him behind his shoulders and helped him sit up a little to catch his breath. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Sam's worried face on top of his.

"Deep, slow breaths Dean." Sam commanded. "You're okay."

"Sam...Sammy" Dean gasped out. "I'm okay. Just...start it." He managed out. He felt as if he would never get his breath back.

Sam looked at him hesitantly. "Dean.."

Dean shook his head. "It's only going to get worse. I'll be right behind you. Go."

Sam nodded. He made sure Dean was able to sit up on his own, and with one last worried glance he headed back up the stairs. Dean was right. Things were only going to go downhill from here, and he needed to get the ritual started. He headed toward the main circle they had drawn on the floor. From what he read, if they stood in the middle of it while they read, they should be protected. Immediately as he started reciting the words, the screaming filled the house again. Sam kept glancing nervously at the stairway, silently pleading Dean to be okay and hurry up. Less than a minute later his brother was making his way to him. Dean looked worse for wear, but he was up and walking. Sam locked eyes with him, but didn't stop chanting.

Dean slowly made his way towards his little brother, trying his best to ignore the screams surrounding them. His chest burned like a bitch, and he still found it hard to get a decent breath, but there was no way he was going to let his little brother do this alone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the large vial. Before Sam could protest he poured a ring of salt around his little brother. "You stay there and don't stop Sam. No matter what." Dean ordered. He then took up watch just outside the circle.

Sam wanted to argue with his brother, but by now the screaming was so loud his voice wouldn't have reached Dean's ears. And he couldn't stop the words now. But he did manage to get his brother's attention when he first saw the witch appear out of no where. Dean was on it quick. He raised up his shotgun and fired, filling her full of rock salt. She dissipated quickly, but the next one just took her place. However, she just stood perfectly still, watching the brothers with a smirk on her face. Suddenly they felt the house literally shuddered. The movement was so severe it knocked both of them to their knees.

Suddenly, what few items remained in the house seemed to take on a life of their own and began flying at Sam and Dean. Sam ducked as a large mirror came at him. But instead of flying past and hitting the wall, it stopped mid air and shattered. Glass shards flew over both of them, giving them small cuts on their faces, slicing through clothing. Dean had managed to a crouch and was turning to fire on her when he was hit by an invisible force and thrown back into the wall.

Dean saw Sam start to leave the circle and he shook his head, yelling, "Don't you dare Sam! You're almost done!"

And Sam was almost done. He watched as Dean was thrown again from the wall to the floor face first. He winced in sympathy, then winced for real when he felt something hard slam into his back knocking him forward. Something else hit the back of his head, but before he everything went black, he was able to mutter out the last of the ritual.

Dean watched at Sam lost consciousness. He was still pinned flat to the floor, a heavy weight on his chest. And as he tried to move, he realized that with the last throw he had broken his arm. He stopped struggling. Sam had finished the ritual. Everything should be over soon.

At least that was what he thought.

-TBC-