You wanted to see it hit the fan? Here it is! Okay, there's another cliff-hanger type ending here, but the next chapter will be able to post pretty soon and I'm still nicer than Kripke.

Everybody wave to scifimom. Yes, she's really my mom and the first ever fan of my writing. Actually, the fact that I write at all is largely thanks to Mom. Big thanks as always to my editors Kanarah J and charis-kalos, and to laceym for her never-ending support and for being my sounding board.

Chapter Seventeen: Damn Demons

(Devil's Trap – Pt 2 / AU)

Dean really, really, really hated demons. In particular, he hated Meg. Even trapped and tied to a chair, she kept taunting Sam. With every insult she hurled, every innuendo she used, Dean could see the effects on Sam. Sam's whole body tightened, his face went rigid, and his eyes had this hurt look which cut Dean to the core.

He threw some more holy water on the bitch. "She's not giving him up. Do it, Sam."

"Wait!" Bobby shouted. Dean turned slowly to look at the jerk. "Don't you two get it?" he demanded. "She's a girl!"

Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam. "I thought you said she was a demon, Bobby," Sam said evenly.

"She is." Bobby rolled his eyes and his head. "God, how thick can you be? That's a demon inside some poor girl's body. If she really did take a nasty fall, like you said, then as soon as that demon is out of her she's dead." He shook his head. "Don't do it, that demon is the only thing keeping her alive."

Dean stared hard at her. It wasn't like they threw her out of that window. If they got rid of the demon, would her death be their fault or the demon's? Dean ground his teeth. Decisions. He really hated decisions, but he had been making the hard ones most of his life.

"Where is John Winchester?" he asked, for the last time.

Meg grinned. "Probably already dead by now. That's why I'm here, to collect the Colt."

"Sam," Dean growled.

"Sam," Bobby pleaded.

Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Sam looking between them, torn.

Dean took a step back, closer to his little brother. "Do it," he repeated firmly.

Sam recited the Latin, his facial expression an odd mixture of dread and determined. Dean jumped when black smoke poured out of the woman's mouth. Demon smoke? This gig just got weirder all the time. He rushed to release her bonds, lower the poor girl to the floor.

She choked as she whispered, "Thank you."

Dean brushed the hair from her eyes. "Wasn't your fault," he told her softly.

She nodded, choking as thin spittles of blood appeared on her chin. "Sunrise," she managed to say. "They're holding him. Sunrise." Her eyes closed and her chest stopped moving.

"Crap," Dean muttered, stroking her hair one last time.

"Bobby?" Sam's voice sounded behind him. "Any idea what she meant by holding Dad at sunrise?"

"Nah." Sirens sounded in the distance. "But you boys best get out of here."

Dean hesitated as Sam moved to the door. "What will you…?"

Bobby shook him off gruffly. "This ain't the first time I've lied to the cops. Now go on and get out of here."

Sam was already out the door. Dean moved to leave when Bobby caught him by the arm. "Look after Sam." Bobby's eyes darted to the empty doorway. "He's a good kid, you know."

Dean nodded at him. "Yeah, I know."

Bobby still didn't release him. "If anything happens to his daddy…" The old man swallowed hard. "Well, even if it doesn't, you can just come on back here."

"Both of us?" Dean asked, voice guarded.

Bobby nodded.

"I hope we don't have to," Dean admitted as he headed for the door. The Impala's horn sounded from outside, urging Dean to hurry. Those sirens were close.

"Sunrise Apartments," Dean breathed, looking over the small, three story complex. "It would make sense, but you know it's got to be a trap."

Sam nodded, facial expressions and motions tight and controlled. "But if it's a trap, then Dad is definitely in there."

Dean sighed as he counted the people milling around out front. "Any one of them could be possessed by a demon. Demons can jump from body to body too, right?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed in his ear, leaning over his shoulder to look. "Doesn't look good, does it?"

Dean shrugged. "Wouldn't be too bad if we could clear the building. Fewer people to worry about."

One of Sam's hands gripped his shoulder. "You mean, like if someone set off the fire alarm?"

Dean looked back into his brother's face. "The only people left inside would be demons and Dad," he said slowly, trying to follow Sam's train of thought. Keeping up with Sam's thoughts could be a full-time job.

Sam grinned at him. "And if we waited on the fire truck, we could snatch a couple of firefighter outfits."

Dean nodded. "Let's do it. Who pulls the alarm?"

"Me." Sam stood. "Hopefully they won't be expecting two of us. If you do it, it could tip them off that it isn't just me. You wait outside to grab the equipment off the fire truck."

"You mean knock out a couple of firefighters?" Dean clarified.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're going to get picky about it."

"Nah. It's fine. Just making sure we're talking about the same thing. Get going." He pulled the Colt out to put in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded, alarmed. "Put that back in the trunk."

Dean glared at his younger brother. "Sam, it's the best weapon we have. We're taking it with us."

"It's what they want, Dean. We're leaving it here. In the trunk." He tapped on the trunk lid, pointing out the sigil marked in white on it. "That makes it safe from demons."

"Dude, you wrote on my car!"

Sam shoved him in the shoulder. "It keeps the gun safe from the demons. Put it back." Dean didn't move. "It's our only bargaining chip, Dean. We have to keep it safe. Put it back."

Dean groaned, popping the trunk open. Sam, apparently satisfied, turned back around to watch the apartments. Dean slipped the Colt into his back waistband when Sam wasn't looking. No way was he going where there could be demons around every corner without it. No way, not with Dad and Sam's lives on the line.

Sam adjusted the 'borrowed' firefighter helmet again. There was a reason he didn't like helmets, he decided. Too confining. The moment they were out of sight, he pulled the damn thing off. That was better, he could actually breathe now.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean demanded as he checked each apartment door they passed. "Didn't you ever want to be a fireman when you grew up?"

Sam grimaced at the suggestion. "Dude, I already piss off demons for a living, why would I want to break into burning houses too?"

Dean paused briefly, nodding his head. "Good point."

Sam tried the next door. It was locked and he could hear someone moving around inside. He signaled to his brother. Dean raised a red ax with a big grin. Apparently Dean was living out a childhood fantasy now. At least this was a fantasy Sam could participate in willingly and without embarrassment.

"Fire department!" Sam shouted at the locked door. "You need to evacuate the building immediately!"

Dean brought the ax down on the door. With two blows he splintered it. A third blow split it down the center. A satisfied expression on his face, Dean stepped back to kick it in. Sam wondered why Dean didn't just kick it open in the first place, that was one of his brother's specialties.

The holy water made short work of the demons standing guard. Sam was able to trap them in a closet while Dean poured a line of salt to hold them in. Dean kicked in the bedroom door and stopped, totally still. Dad had to be in there.

Sam rushed to Dean's side. Dad was tied down to the bed, unconscious. At least, he looked unconscious. Suspicious, Sam took out his flask of holy water to splash some over Dad. When he didn't get a reaction the first time, he did it again.

"Sam?" Dad's deep baritone sounded gruff and weak. "Son, why are you pouring water on me instead of untying me?"

"Uh, sorry." Sam hastily moved to cut through the duct tape securing Dad.

"Where is, uh?" Dad really looked out of it.

"Dean? He's standing guard. Come on," Sam said as he cut through the last of it. He hauled Dad's arm over his shoulders.

"Dean! I got him!" Sam shouted.

"They're coming!" Dean shouted back. Sam pulled his dad into the main room. Dean had the door propped back in place with the ax and a ring of salt around it. His brother was opening the window. "Fire escape!"

Dean motioned for Sam to move it. Sam had to practically drag Dad to the window. Dean rushed over to help. Between the two of them, they managed to get Dad through the window and started on the fire escape. Before the three of them reached the ground floor, Dad seemed to just give up. He hung by one arm from one of the rungs. Sam heard shouts from upstairs, demons hot on their trail.

Dean jumped down to the ground. He waved at Sam. "Drop him! I got him!"

Sam nodded, moved swiftly down to Dad. He loosened Dad's hold, trying for a controlled drop to Dean. Dad still seemed to plummet out of control the eight feet to the ground. Dean caught the brunt of Dad's weight, staggering under it before collapsing to the ground. Sam rushed to help, nearly sending himself into a face-first dive. He caught himself at the last moment, managing a slightly more graceful descent.

As he reached for Dad Sam heard a sound so distinct, so familiar, he stopped. It was the sound of fist colliding with flesh. Sam spun swiftly as Dean took another blow to the face. Dean was good in a barroom brawl, but against a demon? Not only was he totally outclassed, but a human couldn't match a demon's strength. They found that out the hard way back at Bobby's with Meg.

Sam spun the possessed man around, determined to protect Dean from that kind of beating. Poor guy had been beaten enough in his life.

Dean picked himself off the pavement, dazed. He heard the sounds of a fight nearby and his gut lurched. It had to be Sam and the guy who jumped him. That guy was possessed, had to be. It was the only explanation for the superhuman strength, and the fact he kicked Dean's ass.

As his eyes focused, he saw the guy whaling on Sam. Yep, definitely a demon then. Nobody human could possibly put Sam in that state. He pulled out the Colt, aimed.

"Hey!"

The demon looked at him, a flash of recognition for the Colt in its coal-black eyes. Dean fired. That lightning show thing happened again. That was too cool, they really needed to figure out how to make more bullets for this thing. He raced over to Sam, as fast as his bruised hip would allow.

"Sammy!" Dean slid next to his brother, pulled him up. "Sam!"

Sam looked at him with bleary eyes. "I thought I told you to leave that in the trunk," he said weakly.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled, pulling Sam up to a standing position. "Bitch me out about it later. We need to go."

Sam seemed okay on his own, so Dean hauled Dad up to head back to the car. Sam shielded his eyes from the sun as he walked back, but didn't show any other signs of a concussion or anything. Dean loaded Dad into the backseat and made sure Sam's door was closed before sliding behind the wheel.

"We need to go someplace safe," he said as the engine fired up.

Sam nodded. "I know a place."

Sam wasn't real happy with the fact Dean lied to him, hadn't locked the supernatural-killing gun up, but he couldn't exactly argue with the results. After he finished laying salt lines in the cabin doorways and windows, Sam returned to the main room where Dean sat, staring at his hands.

"Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean shook his head. "It scares me, Sam," he said. Sam could hear the frightened boy tone in his brother's voice, something that had been growing more and more prevalent lately. "The things I'll do for you and Dad." Watery green eyes met his. "I never felt like I had a family before. Now, I'm not sure I want it. I killed that man, Sam. For you. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate."

Sam saw his brother's hands shake. Part of him wanted to give Dean a reassuring hug. The rational part of him knew that if he tried, he could wind up with a broken jaw.

"He was possessed," Sam assured him gently. "You didn't have a choice."

Dean nodded, leaning back, eyes closed. He took a deep breath, released it. "Here," he finally said, handing over the Colt. "You hang on to it. It's only my fight when they come after you and Dad."

Sam started to refuse, to insist that Dean hold on to the gun, but that hurt-little-boy look in his eyes made Sam want to take that responsibility on, even though Dean was clearly the most level-headed of the three of them. Probably due to the fact he didn't share any genes with Dad. Dad was a little nuts. Sam figured he must be too.

"Dean?" Dad's voice broke the strained silence. Sam slipped the Colt into his waistband. "Why don't you check the salt lines?"

Dean looked up slowly. "Sammy already did it."

Dad frowned a little. "And now I'm asking you to do it."

Dean nodded, rising to his feet. He looked a little shaky. "Yes, sir," he said clearly as he headed out of the room.

"You were right, Sam," Dad said the instant Dean was out of the room.

Sam spun around to face his father. Did Dad just say he was right? "About what?" he asked cautiously.

"The Colt," Dad replied with a shrug. "It would have been safer in the car." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't think we should trust him with it anyway."

Sam studied the man standing before him. "Why not?"

Dad leaned in closer. "He's not one of us. Not really." He held out a hand. "Why don't you give it to me, for safekeeping?"

Sam started to pull it out of his waistband, automatically responding to Dad's request, but there was something wrong. He held it in his hand, analyzing his father. "Not one of us?"

Dad shook his head as the lights started to flicker. "It's coming," Dad hissed. "Give me the gun!"

Sam took a step back. Dean raced in from the bedrooms, eyes wide. "Is it them?"

"Sam! The gun!" Dad barked.

Sam raised it slowly, aiming it at Dad's chest. "I don't think so."

"Sam?" Dean's voice no longer had that little-boy-lost tone, it was all business now.

"Get over here, Dean," Sam ordered.

"Dean, he's lost it," Dad said. "Take the Colt away from him."

Dean looked between them before moving behind Sam. "Sam? What are you doing?"

"I don't think it's Dad," Sam said slowly. "I think something has been in him since we rescued him. I think they let us get away."

Dad sighed, rolling his eyes. "Paranoid Sammy. Some things never change, right Dean?"

"Keep talking," Dean encouraged, a subtle nudge to Sam's ribs.

"If I ever said Dean wasn't one of us, Dad would probably knock me flat on my ass." Sam cocked the gun. "You're not Dad."

"If you're so sure of that, why don't you shoot me, Sammy? Go on, shoot." Dad looked up as the lights flashed dramatically. "But you'd better make up your mind before something makes it up for you."

He could feel Dean's eyes on him, the nervous energy pulsing from his brother. God, why couldn't their lives ever be simple? Were they cursed or something?

Sam slowly lowered the Colt, unable to just shoot his father. At least, not without more proof.

Dad smiled. "That's what I thought."

Dean let out an 'oomph' sound. Sam spun, just in time to see Dean slammed into the far wall.

"Should have trusted your instincts, son." Dad's eyes flashed fire-yellow. Crap. Then Sam felt that now familiar sensation of being thrown by psychic forces. It wasn't the being thrown part that he hated, it was the collision with the wall. This time it probably jarred some fillings loose. "But now I've got you."

Possessed Dad smiled at them as he picked up the Colt from where it had fallen on the floor. "You have no idea how much trouble this thing has caused." He shook his head. "At least it's safe now."

He set the Colt on the table, motioned to it. "There it is, psychic-boy. Go on. Get it." He smiled maliciously. "It's the only way, you know."

Sam tried, he did, but those weird psychic events just happened, he had no control over them. What did the demon know about it anyway?

Possessed Dad smiled at him, those yellow eyes pulsing with energy. "I have plans for you, Sammy. You and all the others like you." It chuckled, a slow sound which made Sam think it was going to drag this out far longer than it needed.

He stopped by Dean, leering at him. "You need them a whole lot more than they need you, you know." He snorted disdainfully. "Honestly, I don't know what dear old dad was thinking, picking you."

"What plans?" Sam demanded, attempting to draw the demon's attention away from Dean. Smoldering yellow eyes focused on him.

"Oh, Sammy-boy..." Dad's smile was malicious and so un-dad-like. "Always with the questions. You do realize how much that annoys Daddy dearest, not to mention your little fan club over there?" He motioned to Dean.

"John finally found a smart weapon, one he could just unchain and let loose. Well, not exactly smart," he sniggered.

"Dad," Dean pleaded, "I know you're in there. Don't let it hurt us."

"Shut up!" Dad's hand waved and Dean's head snapped to the side. Sam held his breath, hoping and praying he didn't hear bones snapping. Dean's limp body slid heavily to the floor, hitting with a lifeless thump. "I'm not your father, you pitiful, sniveling..."

"Bastard!" Sam shouted, blood boiling. "Get the hell away from my brother!"

Those glowing yellow eyes shifted to him now. "Oh, Sammy. Such fire and spirit. Yes. You're my favorite, you know. I have such plans for you."

Sam's stomach twisted painfully. What plans? What happened to Dean?

"Dad..." Dean's voice, weak but his, came from the floor. "Don't let it...get Sam. Dad."

It turned on Dean again, a scowl on Dad's face. But then those yellow eyes flickered. He stopped, confusion crossing his face. The glowing yellow lights in Dad's eyes faded. He looked like himself again, and promptly fell to the floor.

Sam felt the invisible bonds give way. The moment his feet touched the floor, he raced forward, snatched the Colt, trained it on Dad.

"Do it," Dad hissed. "Sam, shoot me, son. Right in the heart. End this now."

Sam aimed, but he faltered, his hand dropping. How could he just shoot Dad?

"I can't hold it for much longer, Sam," Dad groaned, like he was in pain. "Shoot. That's an order."

An order. Sam lifted the gun, took aim, applied pressure to the trigger.

"Sam." Dean's voice was a surprise. He couldn't look over there. Sam knew Dean would see this as the ultimate betrayal. "Don't," Dean begged. "You can't. Sam. Don't."

Alarmed by Dean's begging, Sam glanced over at his brother. Big brother. At the look on Dean's face, the horror there, Sam knew he couldn't do it. He turned back to Dad, grimacing. Sam lowered his aim, shot Dad through the leg. Dad screamed and black smoke poured out of his mouth.

Relieved, Sam watched until all the demon presence was gone. He grabbed Dad by the hand, hauled him to his feet. Dad shot him a glare, until his eyes came to rest on Dean.

"Crap," Dad breathed, limping in Dean's direction.

Dean's eyes were closed, a thin trickle of blood running out of his mouth. One side of his face was dark red, the promise of a deep bruise. Sam's heart felt heavy in his chest as he and Dad lifted Dean up, carried him to the car. He thought he remembered a hospital not too far away. The doctors at the hospital would fix Dean. Dean wasn't hurt that bad. The doctors could fix him. Sam repeated the litany in his head as they put Dean in the backseat. The doctors could fix him. He wasn't hurt that bad. The hospital was close. There were doctors who could help Dean, they just needed to hurry.

Hurry.