Sorry this took so long to post, but... this site hates me, and I haven't been able to get onto it since my last post... GRRR!

So I hope you like this chapter... I don't know what I did, but it seems people have lost interest in me, and if that's true, tell me, and I will try a different genre or catagory for now...

Take care and enjoy the chappy...

Dean watched Sam as he slammed into the wall, and the cry that was torn from his little brother's throat was enough to break his heart. As Sam fell, John ran to him, and though Dean wanted to go to him too, he knew he had to finish the ritual to get rid of the banshee.

The task of saying the Latin ritual became so much harder when he saw Sam's eyes roll to the side, and then back into his head as consciousness fled from him. His dad knelt by Sam and laid him down, and as he was checking his wounds, John yelled at him to finish the ritual.

"Missum haec bestia sustuli de haec hinc." Dean started, his focus divided between the written words of the ritual in his father's journal, and Sam lying motionless on the floor.

Taking a deep breath he continued. "Abutor sua purus en tempus ac tractus-" Dean started to say the last line of the ritual when an unearthly shriek sent him to his knees. Dean dropped the book and covered his ears.

The windows of the old mansion blew out, and Dean lifted his arms so they were covering his head, while still making sure to keep his ears covered. He looked over to where Sam and his father were, to see that Sam was conscious again, but his face was scrunched in pain, and though he tried to cover his ears, the splint on his right wrist prevented him from doing so.

His father wrapped one arm around his own head, covering both ears, and used his other one to pull Sam to him, and cover his youngest' ears as well. Sam groaned in pain as he was pulled to his father's chest, but at least he had his ears covered and the sound of the banshee's wail was drowned out.

Dean forced himself to focus his attention on his father's journal to read the rest of the ritual. "Purus sua animus, aboleo fas, permissum transeo valde didtum." The banshee let out a final piercing wail, and combusted in on itself.

As soon as Dean could see again through the dust that now coated the room, he ran to his brother's side, trying to see what damage had been done to his already injured little brother.

John still held Sammy securely in his arms, and Dean had to tell his father to put Sam down before the man even realized what he had been doing. The look of shock on his father's face would have been funny, had it not been for the dyer situation the three were in.

Sam groaned as he back hit the floor. No matter how gentle the impact had been, it had still been painful to his battered back. He closed his eyes in pain, trying to force the thought of it out of his mind. If he didn't think about it, it was bearable.

Sam grit his teeth and opened his eyes, and found himself looking into the two very concerned pairs that belonged to his father and brother. "Wha' happened?" He asked, though he had a pretty good idea of what had happened outside with Dean, all he remembered about being inside was the banshee flying at him.

"You don't remember?" Dean asked incredulously, as if it were blatantly obvious what had been going on, and couldn't figure out how Sam could possibly forget.

"Not really… It's kinda fuzzy." Sam answered, knowing from the looks that his father and brother were giving him, that the answer was scaring them.

"The banshee got you Sammy. Threw you pretty hard into the wall." His father answered, leaving no room for the sarcastic remark that had been on the tip of Dean's tongue.

"Oh…" The confusion was evident in Sam's tone, and it scared both Dean and his father. Since the incident with the truck the year before, both had been overly careful about Sam and head injuries.

It had been a close call, too close for Dean and John's liking. Sam had been in a coma for almost a month; and though Sam had been getting better, it still scared the two older Winchesters whenever Sam got a bad headache, or took a hard fall from any height.

"C'mon Sammy, we should get you to the hospital. Get your head checked out, and your arm set and in a cast." Sam nodded, wincing at the stupid movement. He had hoped that his father and Dean hadn't seen, but it seemed that luck wasn't on his side that day, and both had seen the grimace.

"You okay?" Concern laced his father's tone.

"M'good. Just a little sore." Both of the older Winchester's knew the youngest' answer was a blatant lie, but neither called him on it, opting to get him the ER and let the doctors and nurses decide.

John helped Sam into a sitting position, while Dean stood, and got ready to take on his brother's weight. Pulling one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, and placing his arm around Sam's waist, Dean pulled Sam into an upright position, while his father grabbed his and Sam's packs.

Dean led Sam out the door, and down the steps, wincing at every moan or groan of pain that Sam emitted. He knew that he was hurting his little brother, by making him stand and walk, but pain was better than sleep with the possibility of a concussion, especially after the head trauma Sam had suffered the previous year.

Dean helped Sam to the Impala, and then carefully lowered him into the seat, before walking around the car, and sliding in to the front passenger's seat. He put the keys in the ignition, and turned the car on, needing to be ready for when John got in the car.

His father slid into the driver's seat, and after buckling himself up, he pulled the car out of the driveway and onto the road, trying hard not to break the speed limit, with his youngest son in the back of the car and in pain.

He looked in the rearview mirror every couple of minutes, and tried to keep his thoughts on the road, as Dean talked to Sam to keep him awake. "Dad?" He heard Dean ask.

"What?"

"Go faster!" His oldest son yelled, the fear and concern in the voice told him not to ask questions. Pushing the gas pedal down harder, he looked back and saw why Dean was afraid.

Sam's eyes were closed, and he was inert in the back seat…

Okay here's the rough translation... if I got it wrong please tell me...

Send this beast away from this place. Make her free in time and space. Free her spirit, do it now, let her cross the great divide. – Missum haec bestia sustuli de haec hinc. Abutor sua purus en tempus ac tractus. Purus sua animus, aboleo fas, permissum transeo valde didtum.

So take care and review often, and remember if you don't like it tell me...

OSS