Chapter Eleven
The final stage of the possession was the most crucial; it was also the most dangerous. It was the time when the shade killed off the last vestiges of its host's being.
Knowing that the time was close at hand, the dark entity retired to the brothers' room, hoping for a few hours privacy so it could fulfill its task in peace.
Unfortunately, the host the shade had picked was a hunter and his brother was also. By the time that Dean had punched his sibling, Sam Winchester was barely alive, fading quickly. Even if the men found out what the dark entity really was, they would be too late to save the young man. He would be long gone and only the shade would remain. The cure, useless.
SPN
Dean stared at the bowl containing the ingredients Bobby had listed for him: holy water, salt, lamb's blood and charcoal. The only thing missing was the white hellebore.
Dean prayed that Bobby's friend in Canton had the plant they needed. If not, well, Dean wasn't sure what they'd do.
The eldest Winchester checked his watch, frowning. It only took about a half-hour to get to Canton. Bobby had been gone for ten minutes now.
This waiting was killing him.
SPN
Bobby stared down at the pretty little plant sitting beside him on the car's bench seat. It had dark green, spear-shaped leaves and five white, triangular petals.
It looked like something Karen would have grown in her garden.
The grizzled hunter fished his cell phone from the pocket of his vest and punched the Speed Dial button for Dean's number.
"Please say you have that plant," the young man greeted without preamble.
"Yeah," Bobby rumbled, "Iris said it should be enough."
"Iris?" Dean commented and Bobby sighed, "How's Sam doing?"
"Dunno, I'm upstairs," the younger hunter replied, "I couldn't stay down there with him like that."
Bobby nodded, "I'll be there as fast as I can. Traffic seems to be alright so far."
"Okay," Dean said, "We'll be here."
Bobby closed his phone and pressed his foot down on the accelerator, driving as far above the speed limit as he dared without risking getting over.
SPN
Dean stood silent with his hand on the handle of the panic room's door.
He didn't hear anything.
Worried that something had happened to his brother, Dean opened the door an inch and peered inside.
Sam- or the spirit possessing him- was still awake. It looked up when Dean opened the door and smiled.
You won't be smirking soon, you son of a bitch; Dean thought and closed the door.
Glancing at his watch again, Dean sighed, "Where the hell are you, Bobby?"
W
Dean went out to meet the veteran hunter just as Bobby was pulling into the driveway at the side of the house.
Moving quickly, Bobby grabbed the plant from the passenger's seat and climbed out of the car.
"You said a half-hour," Dean told him, close to panicking.
"There was an accident," Bobby grumbled, clearly irritated by the delay himself, "I couldn't get past until the ambulance came."
"Whatever, c'mon," Dean replied, running a hand through his short-cropped hair as he turned to the house.
"How's 'e doing?" Bobby asked as he followed the younger man inside.
"He was awake the last time I checked," Dean said nervously, "If that means anything."
"Where's the potion?" Bobby asked and Dean headed it into the kitchen, "I put it in the fridge to keep the blood cold. I don't want Sam getting sick from that… not after all this."
Bobby nodded and followed the younger man into the room. He grabbed the cutting board from where it sat on top of the microwave and fished a knife from the drawer.
Dean set the bowl down in front of Bobby and watched anxiously as the older ma began cutting the stems of the white hellebore, using the flat of the knife to crush them once he'd sliced them haphazardly.
Green juice oozed all over the wooden board and there was an unpleasant astringent scent in the air once Bobby was finished, tipping the final ingredient into the bowl and then stirring the concoction with a teaspoon.
"It's ready," Bobby announced and picked up the bowl.
Dean led the way down the stairs, trying not to run. He didn't know how much time Sam had left but he prayed that they weren't already too late to save him.
Dean flung the door to the panic room open so fast that it banged against the outside wall.
Sam looked up with a smug expression on his face. Dean noticed alarmingly that although there was dried ectoplasm coating Sam's face and neck, it seemed to have stopped leaking altogether.
The younger Winchester looked away from Dean, catching sight of Bobby with the potion.
"You are too late," the dark entity crowed, "He is gone. I'm your brother now."
"Shut up!" Dean snapped angrily but glanced worriedly at Bobby.
The grizzled hunter stepped towards Sam and the young man actually flinched backwards.
"Time to take your medicine," Dean said in a satisfied tone, glad that some of the smugness had left his brother's face.
"You are wasting your time," the spirit claimed, hands clenching into fists.
Dean just smiled, Sam's body language telling him everything he needed to know; the spirit knew it was done for.
"This ain't gonna be easy," Bobby warned, "He ain't gonna wanna drink it."
"That's fine," Dean assured him, "I know what to do."
Sorry about this, Sammy; Dean apologized silently to his brother before stepping up to his sibling, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back with one hand and pinching his nose closed with the other.
Sam thrashed his head from side to side, trying to dislodge Dean's grip but the older brother only tightened his hold.
The spirit rebelliously held Sam's mouth closed and Dean scowled.
Bobby looked to the older Winchester and raised an eyebrow.
Dean let go of Sam's nose and curled his hand into a fist, "You asked for it."
Bobby winched when Dean hit Sam in the solar plexus and the younger man gasped, the blow startling the spirit who had not been anticipating the pain or loss of breath.
Dean pulled Sam's head back while his brother gasped and Bobby made his move. The grizzled hunter tipped the bowl over Sam's mouth and the potion dribbled in.
Sam began thrashing violently, trying to spit out the potion but Dean refused to move until the bowl was empty.
Bobby backed away and Dean stepped to the side as Sam began coughing.
"Sammy?" Dean asked anxiously.
"Just wait," Bobby warned.
Sam's head was bowed, his hands clenching into fists when he suddenly threw up. Black vomit sprayed from his mouth onto his lap and the concrete floor in front of him.
"SAM!" Dean cried and made to rush forward but Bobby held a hand out to stop him, "It's working. He's supposed to be sick."
Sam threw up again and groaned miserably. Dean frowned, hoping that his brother was alright and they hadn't just made it worse.
"D'n," Sam moaned and vomited again, his body going limp as he lost consciousness.
Neither Dean nor Bobby moved for a long minute, both hunters holding their breath.
"Is it gone?" Dean asked, his voice sounding very loud in the quiet room.
"I think so," Bobby commented, pulling the page he'd torn out from the pocket of his vest and reading over it.
"Hm," he muttered, "It says that all that black should be gone from the sick before the spirit is destroyed."
Dean looked down at the upchuck coating Sam's jeans and the floor around him.
"What do we do if its not?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Give 'im more potion," Bobby informed him.
SPN
Bobby stared worriedly at the younger Winchester. Sam was barely conscious, shaking his head slowly from side to side as Dean prepared to hold him still for the veteran hunter.
Bobby could see the toll this was taking on the older brother; Dean's face looked haggard with concern as he muttered apologies to his sibling.
"One more round should do it," Bobby promised the younger hunter and approached with yet another bowlful of potion.
Four rounds so far. But with each one, there seemed to be less and less black ichor tainting the young man's vomit.
Bobby wrinkled his nose, the smell of sick was thick in the small room and he couldn't wait to get the bleach out and clean the entire floor once all this was over and Sam was well again.
Sam groaned in protest as Bobby tipped the bowl. The young man's face was pale, his eyes half-closed and the older hunter hoped that the potion worked.
Stepping back, Bobby watched as the youngest Winchester threw up again, bile dripping down his chin.
"Is that it?" Dean asked, looking to Bobby for confirmation.
"Yeah," the grizzled hunter breathed, relief washing over him, "Looks like."
Dean smiled grimly.
"Let's get Sam comfortable an' cleaned up," Bobby suggested and Dean nodded.
SPN
Dean smiled tightly down at his brother. Sam was still unconscious and although Bobby wasn't concerned, Dean couldn't but be.
They had untied Sam from the chair and brought him over to the cot that sat on the far side of the room, not wanting to try and carry the young man up the basement stairs. Bobby had gone to the bathroom and brought down a bowl of warm water and a washcloth while Dean stayed with his brother.
W
Dean carefully wiped dried ectoplasm from Sam's face, watching intently for any sign that his brother was waking.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered guiltily, "I should have been paying more attention."
The eldest Winchester shook his head, disgusted with himself. The signs had been there, he had just been too stupid to realize it.
"Dean," the young man looked up as Bobby stepped into the room, "I brought you some chili. You look like you could use it."
"Oh, uh, thanks Bobby, Dean muttered without taking his eyes from his brother.
The grizzled hunter set the bowl of chili down on the table that sat beside the cot.
"I'll bring down some water too," Bobby continued, "Sam's gonna be mighty thirsty when he wakes up."
"Sure," Dean replied, carefully wiping at a black spot of ectoplasm on Sam's upper lip.
"He'll be awake soon, son," Bobby spoke up, "He just needs some good old-fashioned rest right now."
Dean nodded but said nothing else.
Bobby left quietly.
"He better be right," Dean leaned towards his sibling, brushing Sam's bangs off his brow to feel his temperature, "'Cause there is no way I'm taking care of your comatose ass forever."
The older brother's lip trembled though and his hand immediately went to his sibling's neck, needing to feel the pulse thrum beneath his fingers.
Author's Note:
Thanks to yukio87, SpanaHana, tracyeubanks1, reannablue, sarah, BranchSuper, MysteryMadchen, Zubala, SamDeanLover28, Mutilated Pancake, L.A.H.H, and Guest for reviewing.
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YAY! Sammy's cured but not out of hot water just yet! Please leave a review if you have a moment.