Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.

Warning: Swearing, again. Small spoilers.

Author's Note: So, not long to go now. Maybe three more chapters after this one, not sure, I have trouble counting. Have fun reading!

Chapter 8: Meeting Up

"What did you hear?" John asked. He glanced quickly at Yvonne, who had turned pale. His eyes narrowed as he realized that she had heard it too. It was confirmed when the older woman whispered,

"You are going to regret that, Winchester."

John retreated to his car quickly, pulling his cell phone out as he went. For some reason, those last words had chilled him. Sent him into what could be called panic if he weren't a Winchester, weren't a hunter. The knowledge that the demon was going to do something very bad had settled into the pit of his stomach.

Leaning against his car, he dialled a number he hadn't called in months.

Dean drove around Cromwell, feeling more than slightly dazed. It had been eight hours since Sam had left. For half of it Dean had lain unconscious on the ground, unaware as something took his brother's body and left. He refused to understand how, or why. But he knew it was true. Something had possessed his little brother. Sam wouldn't say those things to him. He had toyed with the idea that they were true, thought long and hard about it as he remembered the incident in the asylum.

For an hour of driving he hadn't wanted to believe that for a week something had used his brother without Dean knowing, without realizing. But there was something inside of him. Sam wouldn't say things like that.

He had woken around sunset, and had realized that he was alone. And that Sam was still out there. Dean knew Sam was just as alone, and that he was in trouble, and that he needed help. And he wanted to help him. He needed to get that bastard out of him. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something in there. Sam wouldn't say those words.

And yet the images of an abandoned asylum kept coming to mind, no matter what Dean tried.

You hate me that much.

Whatever it was, Sam needed his help. Something had got to him, used his body as a shield. It explained everything that had happened in the past week or so. The verbal thrashing Sam had given him never quite left his mind, but it had been shoved to the back by Protector Dean, coping style. He would save Sam, he would.

Sudden ringing intruded on his mind, and Dean realized he had once again been in a daze, driving aimlessly and dangerously. He sighed, knowing he was going to cause an accident if he kept going. He found he didn't really care.

He didn't glance at the caller id as he flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes went wide and he slammed on the brakes. "Dad?" he questioned, surprised. "What the hell?"

"Dean, where are you?"

Wasn't that the question he wanted answered? "Dad, where are you? Me and Sammy, we've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Dean, just answer the question!"

The hunter was surprised at the alarm in his father's voice, but who was he to deny John's orders. "I'm driving… ah Dad, we have a problem."

"Dean, what's wrong?" John's voice was suddenly cold.

"Ah… Jesus, this is even harder to get out than to believe, but Dad… I think Sam's possessed."

"I know Dean. I saw him."

"Saw him?" Dean asked, his voice embarrassingly high. "Saw him where? Doing what?"

"I don't want to explain over the phone, Dean. Look, just trust me though, okay. We have to meet up. There's a farm I passed on my way in." There was the sound of shuffling papers. "Guffy Road. First farm you pass on your way out, on the… the left. Go there."

"Dad, what about Sam? He's in trouble. We have to help him."

Dean heard his father go still. Then, "We will Dean, we will. But you just have to trust me on this. Dean, just get to the farm. I'll explain everything there."

"But what about Sam?" Dean repeated.

"Let me worry about him. I'll meet you there."

The line went dead, and Dean, feeling more confused than ever, dropped his cell onto the seat beside him. Something was definitely wrong. More wrong than he had even suspected.

Outside of the town, the night seemed darker. Dean suspected it had something to do with the lack of lights, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but feel he was walking into serious trouble. Or driving into it, anyway.

He turned into the driveway, going slow to save the Impala from the potholes on the disused road. He could see lights up ahead, headlights, and knew they were from a truck, judging by the height. His stomach clenched at the thought of finally meeting up with his dad again.

He pulled up beside the black truck, facing the barn. As he turned off the engine, he saw the door of the building open, and a solid figure stepped out into the night.

Dean got out slowly, suddenly hesitant about facing John. After all, the man had just upped and left. No explanation, nothing. One day he had just decided to disappear. That had been almost a year ago. In all that time they had spoken only once – after the incident that had been running through Dean's head the whole evening.

He walked forward anyway, hands in his pocket. He couldn't help the resentment building in his head. It must have showed on his face, because John paused a few feet from the door. He looked uncomfortable.

Dean stopped a short distance from his father. "Hey Dad."

"Hey Dean," John answered. In the dark, Dean couldn't see the relief on the older hunter's face. But he could hear it in his voice. And he knew that things were seriously wrong.

He walked forward, forgetting everything that had made him stop in the first place. He was getting good at forgetting. And he hugged his dad, so glad to see him alive.

Surprisingly John hugged him back tightly. He wondered what was running through the older man's head.

They parted after a moment, emotion over and done with. "What are we going to do about Sammy?" Dean asked as they moved into the barn.

"We're just gonna wait for him to show."

Dean stopped in the doorway, shocked. "What? But Dad, he's possessed! Why in the world would he just show up here?"

John winced. "Dean, your brother…" He sighed. He couldn't get it out. Couldn't tell his son that his brother was possessed by the thing that had killed their mother.

"What, Dad? What about Sam? What aren't you telling me? Jesus, Dad, I have a right to know!"

John looked up at Dean, stunned. Who was this and what had it done with his son the soldier? And Dean hadn't even finished, continuing as John toyed with the idea that maybe both his son's were possessed.

"Jesus, Dad. You run off, you never call. Sam was blind, Dad. Blind. And you didn't call, you didn't care. I was dying and you didn't even send a message. Nothing! Well, I'm sick of it, sick of being ignored! What the hell is going on?"

His voice had risen until he was shouting. He felt so angry, so depressed, a huge mixture of emotions overwhelming him after the day, the week, he had had. But he stopped, trying to rein it in, and just glared at John.

The older man shook his head. "I care Dean. That's why I stayed away. I wasn't trying to ignore you." He sighed again, and turned, moving deeper into the barn. He knew they wouldn't have much time. Soon Sam… no, soon, the demon would find them, and if they weren't prepared, they were screwed. But Dean needed an explanation.

He sat down on a rusty barrel and faced his oldest son. Dean had a moved a few steps from the door, closing it behind him. His face was furious.

"I've been on the trail of the demon, Dean."

Dean nodded. "I know. That little phone call in Illinois, remember. The only time you've spoken to us in the past year!"

John felt his own anger flare, but he kept it down. "Dean, let me finish will you. Like I said, I was on its trail. And… it's a bastard of a thing. Ruthless. Willing to do anything to get what it wants. I stayed away because I knew that if I were near you, near both of you, well… it would hurt you to get to me."

Dean nodded. He was quick to anger, but he was just as quick to calm down. It made sense, what John said. It didn't make it any less difficult to accept though.

But then John sighed. "About a week ago, I found a gun. A gun that can kill anything."

"As in supernatural anything?" Dean asked, stunned. John nodded.

"As in the demon. But it found out. It went after… it killed Pastor Jim, Dean. And Caleb. It was so desperate to get this gun, that it killed them. I only just got away from it myself, and came here, because signs were starting, signs that the demon would be here. I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving you and Sam out of this. I thought it would stay focused on me. I was wrong."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"I mean, I thought… I knew some of its plans. And I thought I could get it before it even began putting them into play. And I thought I could even annoy it enough to push the plans back even further, so…"

"So what?" Dean pushed when John paused for too long. He moved forward, concerned by the grave tone in his father's voice. "Dad, what's happening?"

John looked down, feeling defeated. When he looked up, it showed on his face. And Dean knew. He just knew.

"No fucking way…" he whispered. "No, not Sam. Jesus Christ. Are you freakin' telling me that the demon is the son of a bitch possessing Sam?"

John sighed, though it was with exasperation this time. "Yeah, Dean. I saw him myself. I saw him…" He trailed off, not wanting to go into it.

Dean shook his head. "Oh my God, why didn't I pick up on it earlier?" He asked himself. "He had to say those things before I realized my own brother was possessed. I should have realized."

"You couldn't have known," John repeated firmly, cutting his son off. He didn't want Dean to blame himself.

"No, I should have. Dad, listen. Sam, he's been acting different. For the past week. We did this job in Florida. We were just about to leave when Sam had a vision -."

Once more John cut in. "Vision? Sam's having visions? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Dean stood angrily. "Tell you? Tell you? Haven't we already been through this? You know, with the calling, and the lack of answering. Sending coordinates instead of a get well card. Ignoring the fact that you son was blind."

John reined his anger in. "You're right. You are. I'm sorry. I should have… done more. But this demon…"

Dean nodded. "Anyway, we went to where the vision pointed. And… I'm not sure what actually happened, but I was thrown through a wall, and when I woke, Sam was… well, different. Silent, a little nasty. Some of the things he said…" Pathetic, sad, little Dean. "And he would barely help with research, and… hell, he basically gave me a big, fucking neon sign that something was wrong, and I ignored it," he said, thinking back to Kelton and the werewolves. "Jesus, why didn't it click sooner?"

"It was unexpected," John comforted. "It's something that has never happened to us before."

Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed. He sat back down and said quietly, "Actually, it has. At least, to Sam. A lot's been happening, Dad." Which you would know if you bothered to call, or even write.

John held back his. He should have been there for them. Then he shook his head. The past was the past. For now they had to get Sammy back. Then he could start making things right.

"Ok, we need to get ready, Dean. I know you have questions, and you deserve answers. But for now… if that demon catches us with our pants down, it's bye bye Winchesters, hello hell on earth."

Dean nodded, losing that remorseful look. "What do we do?" he asked.

John stood and moved to his bags. "While I was waiting, I made a call to Bobby."

Dean half-grinned. "The guy that tried to blast you full of buck shot?"

"Yeah, him," John confirmed dryly. "He was more than willing to help now though. He gave me a few tips, a few things we can use. There's a circle we can use. It'll bind him in the one spot, where he'll be powerless. And then we can exorcise him."

Dean nodded, having followed him to the bags. "Fine. What can I do?"

"Line everything with salt. Holy water won't work on this bastard, that I know, but salt definitely will. Salt's older than the church, as old as the demon itself. And this circle will work, and the exorcism Bobby suggested. I swear, that guy's a walking encyclopaedia on demons."

Dean nodded again, grinning forcedly. He grabbed the salt, but looked up at his father when John grabbed his arm.

"You should know, Dean. When we get that bastard out of Sam… Sam might not be the same."

Dean felt his blood run cold. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the demon… it's been in him for a week. It could have made him do anything. And Sam may have been there, watching as the demon used his body to…" He trailed off, letting it all hang in the air. "All I'm saying is he might not want to be back. He might be different."

Dean swallowed before nodding once. "It doesn't matter. We can help him, once he's free. We can't do that while the bastard's in him."

John nodded, sure now of his older son's resolve. Dean turned to line the building with salt. John leaned on the wall near the bags, crouching still. He sighed, closing his eyes. He hoped that Dean was right.

The barn was silent and dark, but Sam knew his family was in there. He knew, because the demon knew.

He winced inside his own mind. He was helpless, his mind all but paralysed. The demon had shown him more of its little mind tricks, including one to bind him. It was like he was chained to the wall of his mind by his wrists and ankles. And try as he might, they wouldn't budge.

Add to that the fact that the demon had shown him a whole new level of pain, and he wasn't doing so well. After the demon had left the burning house, it had… well, to be honest, Sam wasn't really sure what it had done. He didn't want to be sure, because he knew the memory could destroy him. His barriers were down, crushed by the demon in all its malevolent fury. It knew everything of him now. Hell, it knew things Sam hadn't even known he knew. In the aftermath of saving the girl and her baby, the demon had ripped his mind to shreds until Sam's mind was its toy. A broken toy at that.

The result was that Sam wasn't sure whether or not he wanted control back. Not anymore.

The demon knew his every dirty little secret. It had invaded his mind, raped it again and again without remorse, without thought. Sam had thought he had felt wrong when the demon in Bloomsfeld had possessed him. That had been nothing compared to now. And he wasn't sure he could go back to it. To the nightmares, the fear, the constant sense of the sickly, disgusting haze that had settled over him.

The demon had tortured his soul and Sam would pay the consequences if he were free again.

He looked out of his eyes without controlling them. The demon hadn't spoken to him since they had escaped the burning home. It was finished with him, with Sam, and now only wanted his body. It enjoyed that he was aware, and that he would be aware, but Sam could tell it now lacked that deep satisfaction of watching him suffer.

It, too, knew he was broken.

Suddenly the demon started forward, taking no care to hide itself. It didn't matter. Tonight it would end the great hunters. Tonight it would end the Winchesters, because none of its underlings could.

And then it would be free to mould the world as it saw fit.

So, what do you think? Like? Tune in tomorrow for the start of the big showdown.