A/N: Take your seats and buckle in, we are at the end of this journey. Thank you for coming along for this ride. I hope you will join me for another Winchester adventure in a few days. The next one will be a sequel to Dark Hunt, called 'Finding the Lost'. Several readers requested this, and I thought it was a good idea. I do like reviews/comments. NC

Chapter 9

Clark got out of his truck when the Impala pulled in behind him and stopped. He waited for Dean to join him and see what his plan was.

"Are they still in there?" Dean asked looking at the motel. He was devising a plan where hopefully his brother wouldn't get hurt.

"Yeah, what's the plan?"

"We set the alarm on the car off to get Sam to the door and I'll take him down and get the blood on the knife," Dean told him. "I'll hold my brother and toss you the knife to take out the siren. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sounds pretty simple."

"Okay then. Let's get this over with."

"I'm right behind you," Clark nodded following Dean down the walkway to an end room.

Dean looked at the BMW parked in front of the room and nodded to it wanting Clark to set the alarm off. He needed to get Sam to open the door. Clark got the message and went over to the car giving it a hard shake making the alarm begin to blare loudly.

Dean listened at the door and heard the lock disengage. He gripped the brass knife in his right hand with the blade turned down so he wouldn't accidentally stab Sam. As the knob began to turn, Dean rammed the door, slamming it into Sam's face, blooding his nose and cutting his cheek. Dean kept the forward motion going taking Sam down hard, falling on top of him, and knocking the wind out of his brother.

Dean pinned Sam down as he ran the blade of the knife down Sam's bloody cheek and handed it off to Clark who was nearby at the door to keep the siren from escaping. Clark took the knife and stalked toward the siren to finish her.

The siren had jumped from the bed as soon as Dean rammed the door and started screaming for Sam to kill them and that they wanted to take her from him. She knew that would get Sam in a murderous rage.

Dean was suddenly flipped by Sam, who knocked him to the floor and straddled him. Sam wrapped his large hands around Dean's throat and began to squeeze hard as he glared in anger at him. Dean gagged as his air was cut off before he could fight back.

Clark didn't notice the sheet lying on the floor until it was too late as the siren jerked it causing him to stumble and go down, striking his head on the dresser, almost knocking him out.

Mustering all his energy, Dean punched Sam in the gut making his grip on his throat loosen, and he took advantage of it to break his hold and with an upper cut, knocked Sam off him. Sam was stunned long enough for Dean to heave himself onto the bed and found the knife as the siren tried to make a run for it. In one smooth move, he pivoted and threw the knife with deadly accuracy, catching the siren in the back.

The siren screeched and cried out in pain as the knife sunk deeply into her back. She stumbled forward against the doorframe trying to swat at the knife as she transformed into her true form. Her skin began to peel and shrivel as she seemed to shrink away and collapse to the floor.

The siren's hold on Sam was broken before he could attack Dean again. He stared in horror at his brother when he realized he almost killed him. Then pain was beginning to subside since Dean hadn't used his full strength when he kneed Sam because he didn't want to really hurt him.

Dean was gagging and coughing as he pulled in much needed air into his lungs and moved to check Clark. He helped him to sit up and checked his injury.

"I'm okay," Clark grumbled feeling stupid to have been taken out by the siren. He wasn't much of a backup and was impressed with Dean's skills as a hunter. The rumors about him were all true.

Sam remembered what he had done with the siren and heaved his body from the floor and stumbled toward the bathroom gagging as bitter bile raced up his throat, burning it. He dropped in front of the commode and threw up anything in his stomach. He retched several times as he spit, grimacing with the nasty taste. When his stomach was empty, he began to dry heave, breathing heavily as tears ran down his face dripping from it.

Sam didn't protest when a cold cloth was wiped across his forehead and then laid on the back of his neck. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as a glass was pressed into his hand. He knew who it was but couldn't raise his head yet to acknowledge his brother. When it looked like the dry heaves were done, Sam brought the glass to his lips with a shaky hand. He rinsed his mouth out twice before tentatively taking a small sip of the cold water. He barely kept the water down before coughing it back up.

"It's okay, S'my," a rough, raspy voice whispered to him.

Sam let his head rest on his arm as he fought for a moment to control his gag reflex. He finally sat back and leaned against the tub and looked up at his brother's concerned face. Dean coughed and rubbed his throat where red fingerprints were marring his skin.

Using hand signals, Dean told Sam to pack so they could leave. Sam nodded his understanding and when Dean stepped from the bathroom, pulled himself up and shoved his things into the bathroom bag. He leaned against the counter for a moment, waiting to see if his stomach was going to rebel or not. He couldn't look at his reflection in the mirror as guilt ate away at his soul.

Sam found Dean in the other room shoving his clothes into his duffle. He faltered when he realized there was a stranger standing at the door. He hadn't noticed him before and frowned at him.

"Who are you?" Sam asked looking from Dean to the stranger and back. He didn't have a weapon but was ready to defend Dean if need be.

"I was helping your brother out. Name's Clark," Clark told Sam. "Bobby sent me to help."

"Thanks," Dean wheezed out, clearing his throat. "We're good," he told the older hunter.

"Okay, then I'm off. Got wind of another possible hunt a few states over." Clark gave a salute and sauntered out the door to leave.

Sam stowed his bathroom bag in his duffle and shouldered it before following Dean out of the motel room. He was filled with guilt and regret about what he had done, even though it wasn't his fault. He moved slowly and with his head down, trying to come to terms with everything. At least he hadn't killed anyone was all he could think about. But he couldn't rid his mind of the scenes of when he had sex with the siren. Every time he thought about it, bitter bile rose up in his throat.

Dean unlocked the Impala and waited as Sam put his duffle in the back and then got in the passenger seat. He could feel the emotions wafting off Sam and wanted to talk to him, but his sore throat wasn't going to let that happen yet. He picked up the road out of town deciding to find a motel far away from Joplin to stop so he could get some rest.

"Dean, stop, over there," Sam suddenly called out as he pointed to a structure off to the right just ahead of them.

Dean slowed and looked where Sam was pointing and wasn't sure why he wanted to stop there but pulled into the gravel parking lot and let the Impala roll to a stop in front of a white, clapboard, country church.

Sam got out and looked at the church for a moment before making his way up the couple of steps to the double front doors. He reached for the door handle, slowly turning it and pushing it open. Sam disappeared into the church as Dean watched trying to decide whether to follow Sam in or not. He wasn't sure why he wanted to stop but was going to support Sam and not be too judgmental about it.

The sanctuary was so quiet Sam felt like he shouldn't be there. He walked slowly down the center aisle looking around and seeing polished wooden pews lined with deep red cushions, stained glass windows, hanging lights, a pulpit, and a wooden cross behind the altar. The cross was illuminated by track lighting making it stand out in the soft light.

The place was tranquil and peaceful. Sam was never exposed to religion growing up except when doing research for hunts. He had his beliefs that he kept to himself. He took a seat on the front pew and just gazed at the cross wondering if anyone was listening. He closed his eyes and bowed his head as he confessed his sins and prayed for forgiveness.

A pastor stepped through a door and saw Sam sitting on the front pew and walked slowly toward him.

"Hello young man, may I be of assistance?" he asked in a soft, fatherly voice trying not to startle him.

Sam jumped slightly and quickly opened his eyes to see the pastor in front of him.

"I'm…" he started but his voice broke as tears filled his eyes.

"You know son, if you would like to talk about anything, I'm a good listener and whatever we talk about stays between us and God. May I sit?"

Sam cleared his throat and coughed lightly as he gathered his thoughts and nodded it was okay. He wiped his eyes before the tears fell and looked back at the cross.

"I had some problems with a woman," he started trying to be vague. "She wasn't nice, and she made me do some bad things. I couldn't stop myself…She had control over me…I almost…My brother…I don't know if I can forgive myself for what I almost did…"

"God will forgive you of your sins, no matter what they might be. You just need to ask. And it may be hard, but you need to forgive yourself. If you don't, it will destroy you. You mentioned a brother. Does he blame you for what you did?"

"No…" Sam huffed. "He's trying to support me anyway he can."

"That is good to hear. Can I pray with you?"

"Please."

"Heavenly Father, this young man comes before you suffering from emotional pain and turmoil," the pastor started, taking Sam's hands in his. "His heart is heavy, and he carries a tremendous burden that he is asking forgiveness for. Please wrap him in your warm embrace and give him peace and comfort. Help him through this time of trouble and let him know he is not alone. Bless him, in thy name we pray. Amen." The pastor looked into Sam's tear-stained face and smiled warmly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you pastor," Sam told him. "I should be going, my brother is waiting on me."

"Alright son, just remember you are never alone no matter how hard life gets. He's always with you." The pastor looked to the cross and bowed his head for a moment.

"I'll remember," Sam nodded as he got up and shook his hand. He headed down the aisle and out the doors to the car.

Time seemed to pass by slowly as Dean fought to stay awake. He was still and it was so quiet, and he was exhausted. He jumped and went on the defense when the door to the Impala opened, squeaking loudly.

"We can go now," Sam whispered to him.

Dean stretched and yawned as he rolled his shoulders and sat up more so he could drive.

"Want me to drive?" Sam offered when he really looked at Dean and saw how tired and weary he was.

Dean looked over at Sam for a moment, before opening the driver's door to get out. Sam slid across the seat and under the steering wheel. Dean walked around the car to get in on the passenger side, dropping heavily into the seat. Sam cranked the car and listened to her roar to life before settling into a steady rumble. He put it into gear and pulled back onto the road to head out of town. He knew the routine and was going to look for a motel in a few hours. He looked over at his brother and saw he was slumped in the seat and already dozing again, the dark bruising on his throat a reminder of how badly things had almost gone.

The brothers would rest for a couple of days before looking for another hunt, in another town, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Carry on my wayward sons…

The End