Chapter Ten

It was purely by accident that Dean realized that something was not right with his brother.

After the failed attempt at letting Rumsfeld inside, Sam announced that he was tired and was going to take a nap.

Dean didn't think much of the comment, it had only been two days since Sam had been released from the hospital and was probably still recovering.

So he remained where he was, lounging on the couch, watching some old action movie.

He looked up when Bobby came into the living room and sat down in one of the wingback chairs, sighing.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with that dog," the grizzled hunter muttered and Dean peered over at the older man.

"It is weird," Dean said, "Rummy used to love Sam."

"If my Daddy'd had a dog like that," Bobby continued, "He'd have taken it into the backyard and shot it."

Dean's eyes pinched slightly. He had a vivid memory of watching Old Yeller when he'd been young and bawling like a baby when the dog had to be put down in the end.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby asked as though he'd only just noticed the younger man's absence.

"Said he was tired," Dean told him, "Went upstairs to sleep."

The two men didn't say anything else but turned their attention to the television screen, watching the movie in silence.

W

Dean peered through the front window at the darkening sky and checked his watch. It was almost five and Sam was still upstairs. Bobby had moved into the kitchen and Dean could smell dinner cooking, his stomach growling in anticipation.

Standing up, Dean peered into the kitchen, "I'm going to go check on Sammy."

Bobby nodded, not even turning to look at the younger man, his attention focused on the chili he was making.

Dean sighed and headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time because that chili smelled fantastic and he was starving.

Making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom he and Sam shared, Dean knocked lightly on the closed door.

"Sam?" Dean called, "You asleep?"

There was no response. Normally Dean would have just assumed Sam was sleeping and would leave but something told him he should check, maybe it was the fact that his brother had just gotten over a pretty serious fever or, as Dean would later claim, his 'big-brother' sense was tingling.

Dean pushed the door open and stared into the darkened room. He was surprised not to see Sam's form lying in bed but sitting up, back to him.

"Sam?" Dean said, louder than he'd spoken before, "Bobby's making dinner, you hungry?"

The younger man didn't say anything for a moment but when he did reply, his voice sounded strange, wet, as though he was talking through a mouthful of water.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam assured his brother and Dean frowned because Sam didn't sound fine.

Without speaking, Dean flicked the light switch beside the door and the room was suddenly illuminated. Sam hunched over and made an unhappy hissing sound.

"Sam!" Dean cried loudly and marched around the bed, grabbing his brother's shoulder and turning his sibling to face him.

What stared back at him was not his brother.

Sure, Sam still looked like Sam but the black ichor streaming from his eyes and leaking from the corners of his mouth told Dean that something was horribly wrong.

Sam- or not Sam- opened his mouth and laughed, spraying Dean's shirtfront with black foul-smelling fluid.

"Yes, Dean?" Sam asked and then cackled.

Dean hauled back and punched his sibling in the face and Sam went out like a light, flopping bonelessly onto the bed.

W

"It's a spirit of some sort," Bobby said, his nose in a tome about the classification of ghosts.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean grumbled, "I got that when it sprayed me with its ectoplasm."

Dean was staring at his brother uneasily. He and Bobby had carried Sam downstairs into the panic room, tying him to a chair sitting underneath the Devil's Trap on the ceiling. Just in case.

Bobby swore and tossed the book he held aside.

"Maybe we'll just have to ask it ourselves," he scowled, "what the hell it is."

Dean frowned. He wanted to find out what was possessing his brother and get it the fuck out. He didn't want to chat.

Dean stepped forwards when he heard Sam groan and his brother lifted his head, blinking owlishly.

"Dean? Bobby?" Sam asked, his expression confused and scared, "Wh-why am I tied up?"

Sam tried to move his wrist but they were too tightly bound.

He looked up at Dean, pleadingly.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"You can stop while you're ahead," Dean snarled, "I know you're not Sam."

"Dean, please," the younger man begged, "What did I do?"

"What are you?" Dean asked, his voice calm and deadly.

"Nothing! I'm nothing! Dean! Please! Let me go!"

Dean unscrewed the cap from the flask he held and splashed holy water in Sam's face.

His brother spluttered and shook his head to try and get his wet bangs away from his face but otherwise didn't react.

"So, you're not a demon," Dean mused and rubbed his chin.

"Of course I'm not a demon," Sam cried, "I'm not anything!"

Dean peered suspiciously at his brother, "You know, you'd be a whole lot more convincing if you weren't dripping black shit everywhere."

Sam's expression changed; he no longer looked scared but haughty and cruel.

"You are too late," the thing possessing Sam said, "Your brother is dead."

Sam's head snapped back when Dean punched him. The creature spat blood and laughed.

"Your brother is no more," it taunted, "There is only me now."

"The hell are you?" Dean demanded to know.

Sam just shook his head and his nose started bleeding the same black liquid that continued to drip from his eyes and mouth.

"Tell me!" Dean snapped but the dark entity just continued to laugh.

Turning away from his brother, Dean looked to Bobby who had picked up another book and was frantically flipping through the pages.

"What is it, Bobby?" Dean asked, "Damn it!"

The grizzled hunter dropped the book at his feet and grabbed the last one he had brought downstairs.

Dean looked over his shoulder at his brother, black fluid dribbling down his face and cringed.

"I'll be damned," Bobby breathed and Dean turned to him, "What?"

The grizzled hunter tore the page from the book, letting the tome drop to the floor.

"It's a shade," Bobby told Dean and showed him the paper.

Dean peered down at the illustration- surrounded by Japanese characters- of a woman in a blue kimono with what looked like ink dripping from her eyes and mouth. Above the woman hovered her exact double, pale as smoke, with closed eyes and a wide mouth as though it was screaming.

"What does it say?" Dean asked, knowing that Bobby could read Japanese.

"What's got into Sam is a shade," the grizzled hunter told, "They're very rare, parasitic spirits."

"Parasitic?" Dean asked and Bobby nodded, "Regular ghosts just possess folks to help 'em do their dirty work, shades want more than just a puppet. They want to actually become that person."

That didn't sound good to Dean.

"How?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"They infect their victim and uh… suffocate… or drown- sorry, bad translation- the person in darkness-"

Before Bobby could continue, Dean held up his hand, "Is there a way to get rid of it?"

"There is," the older hunter told Dean, "A handy little potion."

"But?" the younger man prompted.

"I don't have all the ingredients."

"Shit!" Dean swore and ran a hand through his hair. He glared at his brother and the creature smiled, teeth black with ectoplasm.

"What do we need?" Dean asked, tearing his gaze away from Sam.

"White hellebore," Bobby said, "It's a purgative."

"Okay," Dean replied, thinking quickly, "Can you get this plant and I'll keep an eye on… Sammy, and mix the rest of the ingredients together."

Bobby looked slightly skeptical.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded, "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Bobby told him what else was needed for the potion and left, saying something about an herbalist friend of his in Canton who might have white hellebore.

Dean stared at his brother for a long moment. Although he didn't want to leave Sam alone, he didn't want to be with the shade possessing his brother for any longer than he had to.

Turning his back, Dean left the room without saying anything else, closing the heavy iron door, thinking only about preparing the potion so that it would be ready for Bobby's return.

Author's Note:

Thanks to NAVILLUS, Jeanny, Zubala, SamDeanLover28, yukio87, BranchSuper, Mutilated Pancake, L.A.H.H, tracyeubanks1, and SpanaHana for reviewing.

Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited.

Dean and Bobby to the rescue! Please leave a review!