It was nearly over.

The creature could feel the boy weakening. After the last feeding, there'd been a significant change – a subtle shift in the boy's desire to survive. And the djinn knelt next to the mattress somewhat sadly. He was going to miss this particular pet when it was gone. Deep down, he knew he should have gone easier on this one – showed more restraint to make it all last longer. But the boy's utter faith in his brother, even as the hallucinations tormented him mercilessly, made for an emotional smorgasbord that the creature had never before encountered, and he feasted upon it greedily. In all his centuries of taking whatever he wanted from his unwilling human hosts, he'd never, ever tasted anything quite like it. The boy's unfaltering ability to maintain trust in the man who hurt him over and over again was … addictive … and the creature was strung out – strung out on the blinding faith of the youngest Winchester – like he'd never been before.

He looked sadly down at the boy, prepared to say his goodbyes, when he noticed his victim's eyes were open. The boy looked up at him warily through half-closed, watery eyes that pleaded with exhaustion, fear and regret.

"Please …" the boy whispered. "No … no more."

The creature gazed into the boy's eyes, reaching out a tentative hand, almost comfortingly. "It's almost over." It said lovingly.

"Oh, it's over, you blue-eyed son of a bitch."

The creature gasped and turned at the words that had been whispered in its ear at close range. And as it twisted, the man stabbed the knife in – dead center over the creature's ice-cold heart. The djinn stumbled backward, propelled by his attacker's momentum. He landed, pressed up against one of the attic's ancient wooden rafters, the man right on top of him, his weight unrelenting. They rested eye-to-eye.

He recognized the man instantly. "You. I know … you." The creature smiled cruelly, "You're … his worst nightmare."

"No," Dean snarled, driving the knife deeper in. "I'm his brother. I'm YOUR worst nightmare."

The djinn reached for Dean, but its centuries of power were fading as its heart circulated the lamb's blood throughout its aged body. The hand landed impotently on a flannel sleeve, the blue spark fizzling out.

Still, the djinn found the strength to taunt his final victim. "You'll never … bring him back from this. My power is too … strong, too invasive. He thinks he's paralyzed – thinks he's too broken … to ever fix."

"Shut up."

"Look at him. Do you see … any restraints? Any chains? He could have gotten up … and walked out of here at any time, but he didn't. Do you know why?"

"I know your ugly mouth is about to close forever, you sadistic bastard." Dean spat through gritted teeth. "And don't you worry about Sam, I'll get him back. He's stronger than you think."

"It's because he wants to die." The creature gasped as Dean forced the knife in to its hilt. "I don't … don't guide his dreams, but I … I can see them. They were you. They were all … you."

Dean tried his best to block out the creature's words. He'd be damned if he'd give it that satisfaction.

"You … are your … brother's worst ….. nightmare."

Dean watched as the last spark of blue light left the creature's eyes. "Yeah, well you're no wet dream yourself, Sparky." He growled, pushing the repulsive body away.

Dean whirled and fell to his knees beside the putrid mattress. He gathered his barely conscious brother up in a desperate hug, mindful of his injured neck - eyes closing, tears leaking out around the corners.

"Sammy, I got you. It's okay now. I got you, Sammy." He whispered, rocking the boy gently. "You're safe now, Sam. You're safe."

"Dean?" A weak voice answered him.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's me." He lowered Sam gently down so they could see each other face-to-face. He leaned down close so his brother could see him clearly."

Sam looked back at Dean through eyes wracked by days of torment, and he smiled gently. "What … what adventure are we ... going on today, big brother?"

Dean took his brother's face between his hands and stared gently into his eyes. "Listen to me Sam," he said. "I'm real, okay? No more hallucinations. No more djinn. That ugly blue bastard is dead. It can't hurt you anymore. You get it? And I won't hurt you anymore." Dean's voice broke. "I swear to God, Sammy. I'll never hurt you again." Dean moved to retrieve a water bottle from his duffle. He carefully positioned Sam's head to help him drink.

Sam took the water greedily, trying to down the whole bottle at once until Dean, regretfully, had to pull it away. "Easy, Sammy." he cautioned. "Not too much."

Sam made a small noise at the loss of the water, and Dean felt his heart break into a million more pieces, if that was possible. "Hey, you just have to pace yourself, okay?" he said kindly, pausing to brush a lock of hair out of Sam's eye. "Otherwise you'll be sick and heaving on top of everything else that bastard did to you." Dean roamed expert hands over his brother's battered body, searching to find the extent of his injuries.

"Bet your neck hurts, hunh? Can you breathe okay" His voice cracked again at the memory of that final scene on the video file. "That bastard died way too easy, Sam." he said.

Sam lay silent, staring up at his brother like he was waiting for the punchline, and nothing could have hurt Dean more. "Honest, little brother. I'm real. I swear. Sam, move your fingers for me."

Sam complied.

"Good. Now your feet. Can you shuffle your feet, Sam?"

Dean felt, rather than saw, Sam's feet moving behind him. "Good job, Sammy. You're doing real good."

Sam remained silent.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean said. "Moment of truth. Can you turn your head?"

Nothing.

"Sam, turn your head for me. Look over at the window."

"Can't … Dean."

"Why not?"

"Broken. Neck's broken." Sam said sadly. "Can't fix it. Dying."

"Not on my watch, baby bro." Dean reassured him. "That's just the hallucinations talking. How do you know you can't? Have you tried?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Sam let his eyes drift closed. "Scared." he breathed softly.

Dean's eyes misted back over as he brushed away a fresh tear from his brother's cheek. "I know you're scared, Sammy. But I need you to try, okay? Listen, you're moving your hands and feet for me, right? Come on, you're the scholar here, but if you can move your hands and feet, that means your neck can't be broken, right?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Are you real?"

"I'm as real as porn, Sammy. I swear." Dean snorted. "As real as all those vegetables going bad back in your fridge. Now come on - turn your head for me.

Slowly, slowly Sam attempted to turn his head. It hurt like hell, and he gasped, and it took a lifetime, but he did it. He giggled.

Dean snorted, "Dude, did you just laugh like a girl?" he teased, as relief overwhelmed him.

"Shut … up, jerk"

Dean reached down and gathered his brother in his arms again. "Aww Sammy, you little bitch. God, I've missed you, even if you do need one hell of a shave."