Chapter 6 ~ Falling

Dean and Rufus placed the sedated younger Winchester, still clutching his new blanket (yeah, Dean was proud of himself for that find), on the couch in Bobby's living room. Sam seemed relaxed, his body limp like he was just fast asleep, but Dean knew it was just the sedatives and that he wouldn't be like this much longer. At least, the doctor had said so. They'd passed the six-hour mark about an hour ago, which was when the drugs were supposed to start wearing off.

Dean was beginning to get worried. Maybe they'd given him the wrong dose...? He checked his little brother's vitals again. Everything seemed fine, like he was asleep. But he was worried regardless.

Worried and tired. The day had been exhausting. It had torn on his nerves, always keeping one eye on his younger sibling in the rear-view mirror in case he was going to wake up or go all wild-man again. He hadn't dared take a break - they'd driven straight through for hours until they reached Bobby's house.

When they reached Singer's Salvage, he was more than relieved. Rufus was already waiting for them to help the older Winchester get his brother inside.

Dean couldn't sleep. It was already past midnight, there was a the sixth cup of coffee in his veins, and he was still checking his brother's vitals every hour. He grabbed one of the whiskey bottles and poured himself a glass. Bobby was trying to find out more about the guys who'd captured Sam weeks ago, and Rufus was getting the panic room ready - "just in case," as Bobby had said earlier, worriedly.

The older Winchester sat in front of the small kitchen table, checking the web for any signs of the apocalypse. There were plenty enough if you knew what to look for. A deep sigh left his lips when he read one of the articles, about how some guy murdered 127 nuns in a convent. How would they even be able to stop this? How was he supposed to stop this all on his own if his brother didn't recover fully?

Dean had taken another gulp from his glass when he spotted movement in the corner of his eye. He turned around, expecting to see Rufus in the doorway. His eyes widened when he realized it wasn't Rufus. Nor was it Bobby...

"Sam?" the older Winchester couldn't believe what he saw - his walking and talking sasquatch, leaning against the doorway. Sam's eyes were wide, dark shadows around them. His skin was pale and his lips colorless... like a walking corpse.

Dean's chair scraped backwards across the wooden floor as he stood up, emotions running across his face. His brother was walking, he'd stood up by himself, he was awake. Dean didn't question what had happened, he didn't care, not now anyway...

But he had to admit that a sudden weird feeling climbed up his throat. Sam's fast recovery was pretty strange.

Then he swallowed the feeling down; he knew the house was monster-proof. All his concerns were washed away by his relief.

"Dean?" Sam said with a there-you-are smile, making his way over to his brother, who rushed towards his younger sibling with big strides. They ended up hugging in the middle of the room. Dean felt released, happy, like a giant rock had fallen off his heart... except for just one thing...

It didn't feel like his brother.

Everything happened within seconds. Suddenly, Sam's hand moved, and he saw something glinting out of the corner of his right eye. Dean grabbed his brother's hair, curled it up in his fist and banged his head into Sam's forehead. Whatever had been glinting was sliced through the thin fabric of Dean's shirt, leaving a deep cut and a burning sensation across his back.

"What the hell, Sam?!" Dean shouted, punching Sam in the face more by reflex than anything else.

"You should have checked on your brother's tattoo, Dean Winchester." The thing that looked like his brother recovered quickly, grinning victoriously as he licked his bleeding lip.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed, his eyes darkening. There wasn't even one time in their lives when things could work out calmly and well, could they?

"Exorcizamus te... omnis immundus spiritus-"

"Don't overexert yourself," his possessed brother said, unimpressed, as he raised his shirt. There was a burned mark on his left flank... and damn it, Dean knew the sign. The demon had locked itself inside his brother. The realization flickered over Dean's face and he swallowed hard, looking at Ruby's knife in his brother's hand.

"What's all this for?" Dean asked, watching every move his brother made. "You could've killed my brother and me easily in the hospital before."

"But it wouldn't have been as much fun as it is now. Before I end a job, I like to play a little bit with my toys." Yeah, it was Sam's body, Sam's voice, Sam's everything... but it wasn't Sam.

"So what, you're gonna kill me?" Dean's eyes moved quickly, his mind spinning even faster. His brother was possessed, the demon locked inside his body. Somehow, he had to get Sam under control and destroy the mark on his side.

"Yes, I'm going to kill you, destroying the angels' only hope."

Dean put on his I-don't-care smirk while he tried to figure out how he could possibly get the bastard out of his brother without killing them both.

"I promise I'll be quick." The demon moved toward him, twisting the knife in his fist as he lunged forward to stab Dean in the chest.

Right then, a loud bang echoed through the kitchen and Sam's back was peppered with rock salt. "DON'T YOU DARE!" Bobby commanded, cool and composed.

The demon groaned and flinched, nearly dropping the knife as he turned around to face the shooter with a big smirk in his deadened eyes. Then he saw not just the sawed-off shotgun in Bobby's left hand, but the Colt in his right hand.

"I'll let you choose: Either you back off or I kill you." Bobby's voice remained calm and steady, his poker face unmoving.

"You won't kill this boy," The demon tilted his head to one side. "And you wouldn't dare hurt his broken body more."

Bobby raised his right eyebrow. "Think so? Way I see it, I have two choices. Either I lose Dean and Sam, or I just lose Sam. Sam, whose body and soul you broke, anyway. Who knows if he'd ever live a normal life again? I could put him out of his misery without any regret, and I won't risk losing both hunters on the field." He put on a winning smile, his eyes still composed and not showing any kind of emotion. "So, what do you think I'll pick?"

Dean watched it happen, unable to say anything. He trusted Bobby. He knew the older man was lying. Bobby would never hurt Sam or risk his life - at least, not in a normal situation.

"What's it gonna be?" the older hunter said, staring at the monster, his finger on the trigger.

The demon looked down at himself, then at the knife. He seemed to be calculating his chances of whether and how he could possibly get out of this situation alive.

Suddenly, with a fast move of his left hand, the demon threw Bobby and his wheelchair backwards and slammed the door shut. In nearly the same motion he took off to finish his first goal - killing the archangel's vessel for good.

The speed caught Dean by surprise. Before he could react, the demon was in front of him, lunging out to bury the knife in Dean's gut. But before the bastard could hit him, Dean shoved himself aside, grabbed Sam's other hand and twisted it behind his brother's back.

Broken bones could heal. No one would die tonight. Dean would take care of it.

First, he had to get a hold of the demon. But the thing was strong; it flung Dean across the kitchen, slamming him hard into a wall. The older sibling fell down with a gasp, air leaving his lungs for a couple of seconds before he could take a deep breath.

"You know, your brother begged us to release him. But he didn't give in. The poor bastard kept refusing to tell us where we could find his brother..." the demon said "...no matter what we did to him." He stood in front of Dean, swinging his foot back and burying it viciously in his prey's stomach. "You have no idea how much fun we had breaking him."

Dean took another kick, this time to the ribs, and felt a stinging pain in his chest. The elder Winchester could feel a sharp cutting pain when he inhaled much-needed air. At least one rib was broken.

Sam squatted down next to his panting brother, twirling the knife between his fingers. "Let's end this while your brother is watching, Dean, so he'll know that in the end... we won."

The thing took another swing, trying to thrust the knife into Dean's chest, but the older Winchester grabbed Sam's hand in time, twisting it around and knocking the knife to the floor. A relentless battle ensued, both of them taking bad hits and punches. At one point Dean actually had Ruby's knife in his hand while they were battling for it, only to lose it again.

Both men got to their feet a few yards away from each other. The bastard was still in Sam's body, and was holding the knife again. Both of them were badly bruised. Dean had at least one broken rib and a badly aching knee, not to mention his aching head. The damn demon, on the other hand, was recovering quickly - his brother would be the one feeling the injuries later. Dean had pulled his punches, trying to avoid hitting Sam's older injuries (even though that wasn't likely) or breaking any of his little brother's bones. But he also knew he couldn't win if he kept fighting that way. As it was, he was losing. If he didn't find a fast solution to the problem...

The same moment the demon lunged towards Dean, the door slammed back open to reveal Bobby in his wheelchair. Behind him stood Rufus, holding the sawed-off.

Then everything happened at once: The demon flung his knife toward Dean's chest. A shot rang out.

There he was.

Sam felt himself lying on the cold wooden floor. His eyes opened wide.

He knew he was alive, heard his name said a couple of times - "Sammy," over and over again. The voice seemed to get weaker... or maybe that was himself? He could only see shades - gray and something bright, something black, like smoke, flying over him, gone within seconds.

He tried to focus, extending his hand to feel for the familiar voice. He could smelled whiskey and old books, and Dean's aftershave. There were voices, but they sounded like they were far away. Then a moment of clarity overcame him. He couldn't see a damn thing, but he could feel. He could feel Dean's eyes on him. Dean was there, somewhere nearby. He knew it.

"Dea'?" Sam tried to call for his brother. It came out weakly, more of an exhale than a word.

Sam closed his eyes. Maybe the darkness would show him the way.

Pure pain began to rush through his body in waves. Weeks ago, Sam had wondered how it would feel to die. Now, he knew. He felt his life fading away, slowly but surely. It felt like he could recognize his last minutes before he would follow his reaper wherever he was supposed to go. Sam was ready, ready to leave this world behind with all the pain and loss.

But he was also sorry that he couldn't see his brother one last time.

There he was.

Dean felt himself lying on the cold wooden floor. His eyes opened wide.

He knew he was alive. It'd just been a few seconds since he'd hit the cool surface, only to see black smoke above him, twisting like a rabid snake through the air, trying to escape. He could hear unsettled voices around him.

Blood oozed out of a wound on his shoulder. Ruby's knife was still stuck in him, but it didn't seem that deep, at least from what he could see. His vision was beginning to fade.

He turned his head - Sam wasn't far away. He was lying facing him, empty hazel eyes looking straight into his. "Sam... Sammy," Dean managed to say softly.

"Dea'?" It was more like exhaling than talking.

He saw Sam's hand reach in his direction... and then his little brother closed his eyes.

Dean tried to move, but his muscles shot terrible pain through his entire body. "Sammy, c'mon."

Dean's big green eyes fixed on his little brother and the growing pool of blood at his side. So this was it? This was how it was going to end? At least they were going together... the way it should be. No angels. No demons. No more monsters. No more hunting. Just peace. If that was the way it was going to be, he'd follow Sam's lead when the reaper came to get them.

Dean's lids fell shut. "Good night, Sammy..."