Disclaimer: I think you know by now.

Warning: Same as usual. Another long chapter.

Author's Note: So, really not long to go now. This is the second last chapter. Wow, thanks for sticking with it. To all those who reviewed, thanks heaps! I love you! And so, on with the story.

Chapter 10: Exorcism

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."

The demon never saw it coming. It glared at John using Sam's yellowed eyes, daring him silently to pull the trigger. Daring him to kill his own son to destroy it forever.

It never saw Dean preparing to tackle it from the side. Never saw him getting up. Never saw him until it was too late.

A force hit it from the side, and in its shock it didn't even summon up its powers. They fell to the ground in a tangled mess a few feet from where the demon had been standing.

Dean got up slowly, wincing with the pain in his chest. But he was grinning.

The demon stood faster, its eyes glinting dangerously, its face red with anger. It spun to face Dean, silently promising retribution. Then it flicked its head to the side.

When nothing happened, Sam's jaw dropped, and for the first time, Dean could be sure he saw actual, human fear in its eyes. He glanced upwards at the symbol on the ceiling. How had Bobby described it? Ah yes. A satanic roach motel. He looked back at his baby brother's body, smiling triumphantly. The demon met his gaze, slowly pulling it from above.

"Gotchya," Dean spat.

John dropped the arm holding the gun and stood up straighter. The demon turned slightly to include both of them in its sight.

"I'm going to kill you slowly, and painfully," it promised, getting close to the edge of the circle, prowling like a caged beast. Dean held his breath, hoping beyond hope that Bobby was right. John's grip tightened on the gun. Sam's knuckles slowly whitened as the demon became angrier.

"Hear me!" it yelled, seemingly snapping. "I'll kill you!"

But it didn't move further, and Dean began to breathe again.

"You got to get out first," he told it, enjoying the power. "And I really don't think that's happening."

John turned and moved into the shadows. Dean watched him for a moment before turning back to Sam. "Don't worry, bro. We'll get him out," he told his little brother, hoping he could hear.

The demon sneered. "Yeah? And what makes you think he wants me out?"

Dean refused to let it touch him. "Because he's a Winchester. And Winchester's aren't pawns."

This time it chuckled. "Maybe he is a Winchester. But Winchester's can still be broken. You have no idea what I did to him."

Dean couldn't help it. He snarled, moving into the circle, and grabbing the demon by Sam's shirt. He looked deep into those yellow eyes, searching for something. Anything. Any sign of his brother.

When he didn't find it, he growled, letting the shirt go. "I'm going to kill you for what you did to him," he promised it.

A scraping sound heralded John's return, and Dean turned to watch as his father dragged the chair closer, rope in the other hand.

"Sorry, Sammy. But we're getting it out, and this is the only way," John apologised.

Five minutes later both older hunters stepped back, out of the circle. John shrugged his shoulder where the demon had hit him hard. It hadn't been easy getting it tied to the chair, but between the two of them, they had finally managed. It seemed that the demon knew its own trick or two when it came to the physical fight as well. Either that or it had tapped into Sam's fighting ability easily.

Dean worked his jaw, trying to get the ache out of it. But he didn't move away. Instead, he walked around to the side, grabbing a folded piece of paper from his pocket. John held his journal open in his palm.

The demon sneered. "An exorcism?" it asked indignantly. "And what makes you think it will work? Holy water doesn't. Exorcisms… they kinda link in with that musty crap. I'm far older."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "That's why there are two," he told it, waving the paper around. It was out of John's journal. "The same exorcism, repeated at the same time… twice the strength." Or so John had theorised. Bobby had seemed to agree.

Once again the demon faltered, wondering how the hell things had become so screwed for it. Wondering if it would indeed destroy the great Winchesters… or if they would destroy it.

Dean watched the disbelief cross its yellow eyes before looking up at his father.

"Ready?" John asked, taking a deep breath. Dean nodded shortly, heart beating wildly. Not long now, Sammy.

John nodded back. "Don't stop, whatever you do. Do not stop."

That in mind, Dean began to recite the Latin before him, struggling around the foreign language simultaneously with the graceful ease of his father's ritual.

It wasn't long before the demon was turning pale. Its teeth gritted, Dean knew it refused to groan, or cry out, or give any sign that the exorcism was working. He kept on going, not allowing himself to wonder what it was doing to Sam. He kept his eyes on the words before him, keeping in time with John.

The words seemed to come slowly. The time passed by even more so. He kept his ears pinned on John's words, refusing to hear as Sam began to whimper. He kept his eyes on the paper in his hands, refusing to see Sam's eyes filled with fear. Because at that moment he knew he would see his brother, and not the demon they were trying to destroy.

More time passed by, as did a line or two. It was a long ritual, the longest, and most powerful John knew. Hell, it was the most powerful Bobby knew. And it had to be, for the son of a bitch inside Sam, Dean knew.

The words spilled out, and Dean kept on going, ignoring the sweat shining on Sam's face, ignoring the white knuckles around the arms of the chair. He kept on going.

"He doesn't want to come back!" the demon suddenly screamed. Dean almost faltered, hearing so much of Sam in the cry. But John continued on stubbornly, and Dean knew he couldn't stop now.

"Hear me!" it cried. "He knows everything I did while I held him! Everything! Not just the woman and child, John, not just them! Everything!"

Dean's grip tightened around the paper and he continued on, trying to go faster, but having to keep in time to John's somehow calm words. He just wanted this to be over. Over for Sam.

"He killed someone!" it screamed desperately. The hunters were shocked by the emotion it showed, the fear for its own safety. It was something they had never expected. They had expected icy coolness, demands. Not this desperate plunge for guilt-driven freedom.

"He knows everything, Dean! Everything! He watched as his hands ripped her apart from the inside out. Watched as his hands killed her, stole her life!"

Dean kept on going. He knew demons lied. He had to know that, or he could never bring Sam back. He could never let his brother live with that knowledge. Never let Sam live with that memory. He kept on going.

"She wasn't the first, either Dean," it warned. "Hell, he doesn't even need me! Remember Eve? Yeah, the psycho witch. I know you remember her, Dean. I know!"

It was full on screaming now, trying anything to distract them. John assumed it had never been in fear of its life before. Never. It was used to being at the top of the food chain. It was used to being the predator, the stalker, the killer. Not the killed.

"Sam told you the fire demon killed her, right? Wrong. Wrong! He killed her, Dean. He ripped her mind from her body! He stole her mind, left it floating in nothingness, while her body fell apart because there was nothing to hold it together! Sam did that, your innocent baby brother!"

Dean almost choked at the demon's words this time. They had the ring of truth to them. But he didn't stop, instead letting his words flow as a hoarse whisper. He kept on going.

"Come on, do you really want that free, Dean? You have no idea what he's capable of. No idea! No idea! NO IDEA! I know you don't want that free! I know!"

Sudden anger flew into the older brother, and his eyes locked on the demon's, letting it know it had made a terrible, fatal mistake. His voice rose, back into normality, and on, louder and louder. No one told him what he wanted, not when it came to Sam. Yeah, he was afraid of the fucking shining, but he loved his brother. And no bastard demon is going to tell me any different!

At that last vehement thought, he screamed the end of the exorcism, at exactly the same time as John voiced his a little more softly. But his own emotion was shown as he snapped the journal shut. In the sudden silence of the barn, both free Winchesters waited.

The demon seemed petrified for a single moment. Then it started groaning, head flying in all directions. Sam's hands twisted in the ropes, his limbs twitched. And then he screamed.

It was one long scream, his eyes shining more and more yellow, becoming brighter with every second that the scream went on. It seemed to be the only colour in the room as the hunters' vision tunnelled in on that tiny detail.

And then Sam's head dropped, and the barn was once more silent. Eerily so.

Dean let his breath loose, not realizing he had been holding it. He and his father shared a look. "Did it work?" Dean asked, not sure why Sam's body wasn't moving.

John went to shrug, but their attention was stolen by a single drip. Dean looked closer, and saw Sam's nose was bleeding.

Suddenly regaining movement, he dropped to his knees before his baby brother and held his head up. Sam's eyes were closed, but he seemed to be breathing. Dean heaved a sigh of relief.

"He's alive," he told John. The older man repeated Dean's heave and came to kneel closer.

Dean took a closer look. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

There was a long pause. And then, so low they could barely make it out,

"Dean?"

The older brother laughed with relief, feeling the sudden, ridiculous urge to cry with the insane emotion. That voice was all Sammy.

"Let's get him lying down," John ordered, bringing a bit of sanity back to the situation.

Dean nodded and began untying Sam's feet from the chair legs. John set upon the wrists and in no time at all Sam was free from his restraints. Together they lifted the youngest member of the family and moved him, laying him down on the floor. Dean knelt over him.

"Sammy, you still with us?" he asked. There was a murmur for a reply. Dean sighed, looking up at John.

"Should we get him to a hospital?" he asked. Then he really looked at his father. The man was frowning, slowly turning white. Disbelief began intruding on his eyes. And then he stood up, quickly, as if Sam was infected with something.

"Dean, move away from him," the older hunter ordered.

"Why?" Dean asked, frowning. He turned to look back down at Sam.

Yellow eyes met his. He gasped, before he was suddenly soaring through the air once more. He landed hard and didn't get back up.

Sam watched Dean go flying, and renewed his attack on the demon. He was tired and hurting. But so was the demon.

He attacked with all his might as he watched his family disappear from sight. The exorcism had worked, sort of. It had weakened the demon enough for Sam to have a chance, loosening his bonds until he was free to move physically… in a purely mental sense of course. It was confusing if he dwelled hard on it.

But he knew what he had to do. He had to fight, no matter what his body screamed at him. It was battered, and bruised, and weary, but the demon was even more determined to destroy his family. And he wasn't about to let that happen.

The two beings in the one body stayed on the ground, fighting hard over both body and mind. Sam struggled, lashing out any way he could. At the same time the demon defended, not gaining enough time between the hunter's offensive to launch its own.

I am not losing to you! the demon suddenly yelled inside Sam's head, pushing back desperately. Sam gritted his teeth, or he would have if he had had teeth. And he pushed back, ignoring his own screams of protest.

I… push. Am not… attack. Letting you… push, hard, push hard against the ethereal body inside his mind. Kill my… almost there. FAMILY!… scream.

At that last, stubborn cry of pain, anger and determination both Sam and the demon felt a shift in control. Sam felt a jolt, as if he were dumped into his own body. He opened his eyes, actually opened them himself, for the first time in what felt like a millennia.

He rolled over, but even that one movement made his body shake as all his mental exhaustion followed him in with a plummeting drop. He gave a groan, shaking, feeling nauseous, and as if he had vertigo, even though he was lying down. He lay there for a moment, trying to get his bearing.

And then he felt it, as he paused. The demon was fighting back, not bound inside Sam's mind as Sam had been. Rather, it now began the chase to those powers nestled deep within the dark depths, the ones that were now a mixture of both Sam and demon.

"No," Sam whispered, starting after the demon. Only it was much quicker than he was, grabbing onto those powers. And it didn't keep the attack purely in Sam's mind. No, it attacked the one thing Sam could never afford to completely lose.

His family.

John was just getting to his feet when the blast of telekinesis struck him, flinging him like a rag doll against the wall. Dean, too, was picked up as if he were nothing, and rammed into the wall with such force that Sam was sure something had broken. And then John began screaming with intense pain.

Daddy first, the demon snarled viciously at Sam, intent only on revenge now. So you know exactly what is coming for dear Dean!

Sam lifted bleary eyes to watch as his father screamed. It was horrifying; Sam had never heard his father scream before, and he knew it was a sound that would haunt him forever. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Or was there.

Desperate to look away, Sam suddenly spied the gun out of the corner of his eye. He knew the demon was wary of it. Fear was far too strong a word, but wary, certainly. Could he reach it, before the demon ripped his father's insides apart?

Another scream, and he had decided yes, he could.

He began crawling forward, not having enough strength to get his legs underneath him. He dragged himself forward, as fast as his body would let him, ignoring the pain shooting down his back, ignoring the ache in his head. He only concentrated on the gun and the screams of his father that spurred him onwards.

No you don't! the demon screamed as it saw what Sam was trying to reach. It began hurrying to finish John off, so it could move onto Sam's true weakness: Dean.

Sam ignored it, crawling and crawling. Not far now. Three feet. Two feet. That was close enough.

He didn't dare collapse onto his face with the success of reaching the gun. That would mean he would never get back up. No, he ignored the stress making his body shake, and reached out. Trembling fingers closed over the barrel.

He dragged it closer and finally managed to get a good hold on it. Determined, he pulled his feet up and under him, using a nearby old bench to heave his body skywards. His hand felt cool as it rested on the metal top of the bench.

Knowing he couldn't hold his own weight, he leaned on the table, still using his father's pain as a sick type of motivation. But it was working; he turned, until he was facing his small, shattering family, gun in hand.

He looked over at them as he leaned back on the table. Dean was just regaining focus, about which Sam was unhappy. He would have preferred that Dean not see this.

He began to lift the gun, his arm not obeying at first. He was so tired, exhausted. He just wanted to finish it. He didn't want the memories, didn't want any of it. He would have settled, at that moment, for unknowing bliss. For nothingness.

His arm crept closer to his head.

Finally the demon dropped its attack on John, deciding to focus purely on the mind it had tried so hard to suppress. The mind dedicated to a family it had underestimated.

Sam looked up at Dean as the barrel lightly touched his temple. John was gone, unconscious or so it seemed. But Dean was there, he was alive, and conscious.

Their eyes met and Sam silently begged him to understand. Dean begged him to stop, and Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want his last moment to be watching as Dean's world crumbled.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Just let it be over.

There was a single moment of emptiness, of nothingness, or pure silence...

There was a resounding bang...

There was a long, chilled scream...

And then the world returned to that blissful silence that had covered it only moments ago...

Oh, he didn't! Did he? I suppose you'll find out in the last chapter, up tomorrow!