Disclaimer:I take them, mould them, disentangle them, and give them nicely back as they came.

Warning: Swearing, as usual. Long chapter, well, longer than the rest have been.

Author's Note: So, all enjoying so far? Thanks to everyone for their reviews. This next chapter is dedicated to you.

Chapter 9: Fight Back

Dean was on one knee, bent over, drawing a pentagram on the floor when all hell broke loose.

A part of the wall behind him suddenly exploded in a shower of splinters, and he cursed in shock, diving to the ground in order to avoid being seriously impaled.

The wood hadn't even finished falling when he felt an invisible force pick him up. He flew through the air and slammed against the opposite wall, the impact driving all breath from his body.

He opened his eyes, struggling to get air into his lungs. He looked around, noticing the darkness. But he hadn't heard a second thud. The plan was working, starting with the unneeded pentagram he had been drawing, and hopefully ending with Sam's freedom.

And then a laugh echoed around the barn. Dean swallowed, instantly recognising it, though it was hard. It was Sam… but it wasn't. And now Dean had realized that all week, his voice had missed that inflection that made it Sammy's.

He remained silent, squinting in an attempt to see through the dark. It was an effort made unnecessary when the electricity suddenly came on, illuminating the barn. Dean blinked twice before his gaze came to rest on the demon that wore his brother's skin. Before his eyes came to rest on the demon's yellow ones poking through with Sam's stare.

"Hi Dean, I'm back," it said with amusement. Dean almost couldn't believe that it was Sam's voice. It sounded so… evil.

Dean struggled to keep all thoughts of the plan from his head, knowing the demon could read minds. Instead he focused on the being before him, the bastard pretending to be his little brother. The thought made him quiver with anger.

"You sick son of a bitch," Dean spat quietly, unable to contain his rage. "Let my brother go."

The demon chuckled. "Nah, I'm good." It took a few steps forward. "Sammy's good for me. Keeps me on edge."

Dean felt his lips contort in a snarl. "Don't you call him that! I'm going to kill you, I swear. I'm going to rip you from his body and send you crawling back to hell!"

He ended in a scream, desperately keeping his eyes on the demon. It had begun to smirk, a look so alien on Sam's face that Dean felt his fury flare.

"Ah, Dean," the demon said, shaking Sam's head. "You and your father have so much to learn."

Dean felt his stomach drop, and an instant later his father, who had been sneaking up on the demon from behind, thumped into position a few feet to Dean's left. The mysterious Colt lay dropped where John had been snatched from the air.

The demon laughed as John groaned, breathing hard where he was pinned against the wooden wall. Dean refused to give up hope. Okay, so their plan had failed, but… but they were still alive, and this one demon wasn't going to rip them apart from the inside. Especially not using Sam's hands. Dean would not let his brother live with that for all eternity.

The demon walked backwards, still laughing, as John regained focus. It picked up the Colt and gave it a once over. For the first time it let a different emotion to amusement come through. Dean couldn't believe that it was fear.

"This damn gun has been such a pain in the ass," it muttered. "It's hounded me for centuries. Let's see…" It paused, checking something that Dean couldn't see. "Two bullets left. Ah, of course. One vampire and…"

It suddenly growled, pulling the Colt up and pointing it at a spot somewhere between John and Dean. As the demon slowly walked forward, the aim slowly moved towards Dean. The hunter tried to slow his heart rate down as the barrel came to rest pointed at him from the too short distance of five feet.

"You killed two of my children with this gun, John," it said coldly. "Maybe I should kill your's with it."

Neither Winchester answered, but Dean's heart beat wildly. For a long moment that stretched into eternity, none of them moved. Hell, they hardly even breathed.

Then the demon laughed and dropped the aim. Without looking, it tossed the Colt aside, where it landed on the floor with a clatter.

"Now this is good," it said, walking up to them. Dean couldn't stand the glint he could see in his little brother's eyes. "This is power." Sam's body shuddered and Dean felt sick at the morbid enjoyment shining through his brother's face.

"You know, I've planned and planned what I would do to you once I had you, once I had all three of you. But this is sweet."

John leaned his head back against the wood, staring at the demon over the top of his nose. "Enjoy it while it lasts, bastard. You won't be around much longer to do it."

The demon laughed at John's idle threat. "Come on John. Did you really think your hunt for me would turn out any different? I've been around for centuries, hunted by idiots just like you. And they're the ones who rotted in their graves. For those who had graves."

It sighed and walked forwards, smiling coldly before turning to Dean.

"And you… you are most definitely your father's son. A whole week with me and it didn't click until tonight? You and your brother are gaining quiet a reputation, yet the great hunter Dean Winchester didn't realize his baby brother was possessed. He held back information, knowing I'd drop little signs everywhere because of it and still…"

It chuckled as guilt burned within Dean. John looked at him, trying to catch his son's eye, tell him that it wasn't his fault. But Dean refused the contact, letting the anger smoulder away inside.

Once more the demon sighed. "You know, I've held your life in my hands this past week Dean. I could have killed you millions of times."

"Then why didn't you?" Dean snapped, unable to stand being silent for any longer. He needed some way to vent his frustration, his anger. "Why didn't you kill me?"

The demon smirked, but Dean swore he caught something in its eyes. In Sam's eyes. "What, and miss this fun? Miss the fun of making your father watch you suffer before your horrible death? I think not."

This time Dean smirked, and he watched as it made the demon falter. "Bullshit," the hunter answered cockily. "Remember, you walked out, tonight. You weren't going to come back. You were going to find Dad and kill him. All without me."

The demon was silent for a moment. And then Dean laughed, shocked that he could do so.

"It was Sam, wasn't it? He wouldn't let you touch me. With the werewolves… he tried to warn me. Hell, he saved me from one. But you had made him disappear. You were going to watch as those werewolves killed me, but Sam stopped you."

He felt his confidence rising again as the demon's face turned angry. John was watching too, and he shook his head at it, at the foolish bravery. But he remained silent. If anyone could help him and Dean get free, it was Sam. And if anyone could help Sam, it was Dean.

"Too bad you didn't figure it out earlier, Dean," the demon snapped. "Because now Sam… well, he's completely under my control."

It walked in closer, until it was only inches from Dean's face. And then it leaned in, so it could whisper venomously in his ear.

"When he denied me my prize… Oh, you should have seen it, Dean. You should have heard his screams. I savaged his mind, Dean, ripped it apart so I could read it like a book. I took what was his and shredded it – his memories, his thoughts, his will to live. I hacked you little brother into tiny little pieces, and then stuffed it back however I pleased. Even now he is nothing but a speck in the mind that was once his. It will never be his again, Dean. Hell, I'm not -."

"SHUT UP!" Dean screamed, unable to take anymore. "Shut up! Stop talking, you sick fucking freak! If you hurt him, I swear to God I will rip you into pieces!"

The demon only laughed at his outburst, taking a few steps back. "That's it, Dean, let it all out. I know you. You wouldn't believe how well Sam knows you, and I know everything he knows. Big, protector Dean, always willing to sacrifice himself for his family. For his baby brother. He knows it's because you need him. So much more than he needs you. He knew it three years ago as well, when he went off to college. And he still left. Left you to drown in your own pathetic gloom."

Dean could hear himself breathing in and out through his nose. It was so strained, and he was so angry. He couldn't help himself.

"Look, would you get this -."

"Why Sam?" John suddenly broke in, seeing his son struggle with the demon's words. Dean couldn't give into anger yet.

The demon looked at him, a smirk back in place. "You mean why possess him, right John?"

The older hunter nodded. "You know that's what I meant."

The demon chuckled. "Few reasons I guess. One, he's a psychic. He has some nice abilities. He could be strong if he weren't so afraid of it. Of course, nothing threatening. But those abilities, added to my own…"

The demon trailed off into a shudder and Dean turned away in disgust. It gave him a knowing glance before turning its attention back to John. "Two, he's a Winchester. The opportunity to use him to destroy you, John… well, it was too good to pass up."

"Is that it?" John asked, using the corner of his eye to make sure Dean had calmed down enough to regain his senses.

"No," the demon answered. "The real sweetener was the fact that, like you John, Sammy's a tortured soul."

"A what?" Dean interjected, feeling suddenly off balance. His brother was a what?

The demon gave him a grin, but it was John who answered. "A tortured soul," the hunter said to his son, giving the younger man a quick glance before turning full attention back to what had been his prey. "Someone who has suffered so terribly, that their very soul suffers along with them. Watching someone they love, like really love, die and being unable to stop it. Seeing those around them get hurt continuously and feeling like they played a huge part in it." The father sighed. "Did you know Sam was going to ask Jess to marry him?"

Dean shook his head, stunned. Why hadn't Sam told him that? And how had John known?

"Well, he was," John continued. "He loved her. Like I loved your mother. And he watched her burn above his head, and he was unable to stop it. Unable to save her. And he'll always feel guilty about that."

The demon nodded. "It's like blood to a vampire, without the need, or the lust. Just simple enjoyment on a pure scale."

Dean snapped his jaw shut. "You sick bastard," he whispered, disgusted by what he had just learned.

Once more the demon chuckled. "Sticks and stones, Dean. The fact is I'm going to kill you. And actions speak so much louder. Although I'm sure Sam's screams will be very, very loud."

Dean swallowed. "So, he'll be aware then," he had to confirm, wishing he could have let just let it go. "When you kill us, he'll be watching. Watching, and unable to do anything."

The demon's sick grin was answer enough. Dean found himself glaring at it, snarling silently. "I hate you," he whispered, the emotion blocking his airways until he couldn't speak any louder. "I hate you so much."

"That's why I'm the demon," it answered, taking a step back. It lowered its head, and Dean swore he felt power filling the room. Fear unhitched his voice.

"Sam!" he screamed, desperate. He would not put Sam through this. "Sam, I know you're in there! Fight, goddamn you! Fight it, fight it!"

The demon looked up, its eyes somehow brighter, filled with power and amusement. And Dean began crying out in pain. He groaned loudly, near screaming, and looked up, desperate not to show his fear. Dean ignored the yellow tint, and instead looked through at his brother. The pain lessened slightly as the big brother tried to get through to his responsibility.

"Sam, I know you can hear me. Don't you dare let it kill us! Don't you dare!"

Yeah, Sammy, fight me, the demon taunted, watching Dean's attempts at provoking the possessed Winchester.

Sam ignored it, tried to ignore everything. Somehow he was crying, tears flowing down his face. He hated it, but the helplessness, the fear, the guilt, it was all getting to him. Besides that, he still hurt. He couldn't fight back. He was broken.

"Don't ignore me, Sam!" Dean screamed, the pain noticeable in his voice. "I know you're in there. I know you can fight back. You're a hunter, goddammit! Hunt!"

The demon laughed inside Sam's head as the younger man found himself straining subconsciously against the invisible bonds holding him down. He didn't stop when he realized what he was doing, but pulled harder. Even if he wasn't sure he wanted freedom, Dean deserved it. More than that, he deserved life.

But he was exhausted and hurt. And fighting only hurt more. I'm sorry, Dean, he whispered to no one as he stopped, unable to even move. I'm so sorry.

Although Dean couldn't hear him, the demon could. And it laughed at his pathetic excuse for a fight before turning its full attention on Sam's older brother.

"Sorry, Dean. He's not fighting."

Dean didn't get a chance to respond, or even ignore what the demon had said. The moment it finished speaking Dean began crying out as the demon drew deep on those dark powers from barbaric times, screwing with the young hunter's chest and causing pain like he had never felt before.

"Dean!" John yelled, straining against his own invisible chains. His face had paled, but it was nothing compared to the effect it had on Sam.

The younger hunter gasped, knowing exactly what the demon was doing. It was ripping his brother apart, from the inside, making sure his body weakened slowly. And he knew it would take hours before Dean even lost enough blood to fall unconscious.

NO! he screamed at the demon. But he didn't pull against the ties. He knew it was useless, knew he couldn't physically move.

Only not all his moves were physical.

Desperately blocking out Dean's heightening screams as his organs slowly tore apart, Sam turned his mind inside himself. It was a strange feeling. Inside his mind, he turned his mind inside; the sensation of doubling over was disconcerting. But he did it, and searched hard for those powers he could feel calling to him.

The demon suddenly realized what he was doing, and panicked. The shock of it panicking almost made Sam stop, but the relief as it stopped torturing Dean spurred him on.

If they had been in a physical realm, Sam would have described it as flying down a deep, dark hole, only without wings and without the wind rushing past. He was in the lead, but the demon was catching up quickly. He could feel it, closer to him than he was to his powers.

He stretched, urging himself on and on until it felt like his mind was stretching out, slowly becoming untangled from other parts of himself. He reached out, reached for that bundle of powers he normally tried to deny. His hand grabbed it at exactly the same instant as the demon snatched a part of his disembodied mind.

Sam lashed out instantly with a sort of purely mental telekinetic energy. Inside his mind it came easily, anger and fear fuelling his power and reflexes. And inside his head the force stayed.

The blast struck the demon, and it cried out with the shock of pain. However, because it held onto Sam, he felt it too, felt his own attack. He gave a yelp, squinting slightly.

The demon fell to knees, clutching at Sam's head. The force had thrown it physically off balance, making it lose control. John and Dean fell to the ground.

Dean stayed where he fell, still recovering from the demon's attack. Sam didn't catch what happened to John as he sent another wave at the demon. In its pain it couldn't block the attack. Sam, on the other hand, was used to dealing with headaches. He was used to moving through the pain, coping with it. The demon hadn't had a powerful enough foe in several centuries to have the precedent.

Head reeling slightly, Sam sent another wave at the demon. Only it was a fast learner. It managed to block the telekinetic energy, and sent it back at Sam as an attack. He only had time to gape at it before the demon suddenly had control again.

They resurfaced from Sam's mind inside his mind a moment later, the demon looking out of Sam's eyes. The hunter was still weighed down, only more tired now. But he had stopped it from hurting Dean. And,

"Don't you move, Demon."

It was John's voice, confident, from somewhere behind him. The demon moved spryly to Sam's feet and turned, coming to face the barrel of the Colt not three feet away.

It smirked. "What, John? You would kill your own son to get me?"

John never even flinched. "If that's what it takes." He cocked the gun, and the noise of a bullet sliding into place filled the otherwise silent barn.

"Then yes."

Will he? Won't he? Guess you'll find out tomorrow.