Fic: That's What Big Brothers Are For 8/9

[mizpah1931]

Title: That’s What Big Brothers are For
Season: 2
Category: General, Action, Horror/Demon
Warnings: Not really...
Tagline: Sam is plagued by multiple visions of Dean burning alive, leading the brothers into a dangerous hunt that could have dire repercussions for the young psychic.
Set just before the Season 2 episode Roadkill
Total Word Count: 52,676
Chapter 8 Word Count: 5917
Total Chapters: 9
Beta: ziggyuk
Story Banner: Chasidern
Awards Banner (SN.TV Best Horror/Demon 2008): Saiyuki

Chapter 8

Sam wisely stayed silent as he accompanied the fuming woman into the diner, sitting at a booth in the corner while she enquired at the counter for a telephone book. He smiled softly at the waitress who hovered at his side, and ordered two cups of coffee, politely declining the offered menu. Sighing softly, he rested his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand as Ellen joined him.

Shaking her hair back from her shoulders, the blonde roadhouse owner slid into the booth opposite the young psychic, tossing the borrowed phone book onto the table. “Well, what are we looking for?”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Uh – look for auto body shops. Is that a local book?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good – so far Geoff has kept his…” Sam glanced around nervously, and lowered his voice, leaning across the table. “…murders – confined to this town. So, I’m guessing he won’t break pattern for the big showdown. He’ll pick somewhere in town, or just outside – not too far away.”

“Right,” Ellen murmured, rapidly flicking through the pages. “Okay, I got a few. What now?”

The young hunter shook out a napkin, and placed it down on the table surface. He dug into his pockets, finally locating a pen and handing it to the puzzled woman. “Here, write down the addresses.”

Glancing up as their coffee arrived, Ellen smiled fleetingly at the waitress, and sipped at her brew as she scribbled down the addresses of the six auto body shops she’d found. “Okay, got that.”

Sam drew in a ragged breath, holding his cup between his big hands as he half closed his eyes. “All right – now look for a print shop with the same address – I mean, in the same street. Actually, the same block, I think.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows. “That was in your vision?”

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and pushed the cup aside as his stomach protested. He waited impatiently, tapping his fingers against the table surface as Ellen scanned the pages in the phone book. Receiving a glare from his companion, he stilled his restless fingers, and glanced out the window at the lowering clouds. A few drops of rain blew against the window, and the young psychic watched them slide down the glass, his thoughts turning to his brother, and the terrifying images of Dean burning alive. His attention snapped back to the table as Ellen softly called his name.

“Got it – the One Stop Print Shop.” Ellen leaned back against the cushions of the booth as she gazed at the pale young man on the other side of the table. “Sam, are you sure about this, sweetie?”

“I’m sure, Ellen. I gotta do this.” Sam pulled out his money clip and dropped a few bills on the table. “Can you get us directions? I’ll go wait in the car.”

Ellen’s brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Oh, no, you won’t. You’ll come with me to the counter, and stay right by my side while I ask for the directions. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Sighing in exasperation, Sam trailed after the determined woman, his mumbled reply of “Bossy” earning him another stern glare for his troubles. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot while Ellen got the directions for the print shop. Finally, the friendly diner owner waved them off with a cheery good morning, and he was out the door and halfway to the car before Ellen had got more than half a dozen steps from the counter.

Sliding his tall frame onto the passenger seat as soon as Ellen unlocked the door, Sam clasped his hands together in his lap to control their shaking. A sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach, growing steadily stronger, and he exchanged a nervous glance with his friend as she headed out along the highway. “Hold on, Dean,” he whispered, his hazel eyes clouding with fear for his brother as they raced toward the source of his visions.

*     *     *     *     *

The drum solo in his head was being accompanied by an annoying, off-key humming, and he found himself wishing for a very big gun so he could blow the tone-deaf son of a bitch to hell. Dean groaned, his eyelids fluttering open, and he squinted painfully up at his smirking captor. “Dude, you’re so getting kicked off the choir.”

Geoff sneered, cutting off his tuneless humming. “Ah, the great Dean Winchester. We finally meet. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He looked the battered hunter up and down. “I must say, the man is so much more disappointing than the legend.”

“Ah, bite me.” Dean pulled experimentally on his bindings, testing the strength of the knots tied in the thick, coarse rope. He glanced to his right, and grinned faintly as he saw Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes gazing at him in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

Elizabeth stared at the hunter in shock as she recognised his face and his voice. “You! But – you said you were a cop – you told me…” She fell silent, biting her lip. The gag had been removed once there was no longer a need for her to be kept quiet, and she had watched anxiously as her fiancé had dragged Dean’s unconscious form over to the wall, binding him hand and foot with a length of the same rope that held her fast to the heavy wooden chair. “You lied to me. Why?”

Dean gave a casual shrug as he slowly worked his way into a sitting position. He leaned against the wall, his head spinning, closing his eyes briefly against the nausea that threatened to bubble up his throat. “Yeah, well,” he gasped. “That’s – uh…”

“So you and your brother posed as cops, trying to get information about me.” Geoffrey laughed quietly. “And she believed you. Well, she always was gullible.”

“Yeah, well, she must be – she got taken in by a pathetic loser like you,” Dean shot back. He grunted in agony as the demon’s foot connected with his ribs, falling onto his side and gasping for breath as he lay with his eyes tightly closed. He could hear his little brother’s frantic voice inside his head – “Dean, do me a favour – don’t piss off the thing that’s tryin’ to kill you, okay?” He finally had to admit Sam was right – pissing off the demon wasn’t the always the best plan. It was time for a re-think.

“Geoff, leave him alone! You got what you wanted – you got him here as a lure. Just – don’t hurt him any more. You said yourself, it’s the other one you want.”

Geoff clucked his tongue in annoyance as he saw Dean’s wide green eyes fly open. “Now, Liz, you’ve gone and spoiled my surprise. Naughty girl. No cookies for you.”

Dean glared at the possessed clerk. “What – you mean I’m bait?”

“Yeah. You’re bait. You’re just a lowly worm on my hook.” Geoff smirked, resting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the pissed off hunter. “I’m after the big fish.”

“Sam’s not comin’. So your little plan’s not gonna work.”

“Oh, he’ll come. I made sure of that. ‘Cause if he doesn’t, then you’re toast. And I know he won’t risk any harm to his precious brother.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in rage. He cursed silently, knowing the demon was right – Sam would crawl on his hands and knees if he had to, but he would come, regardless of his orders to stay put. Dean’s only hope was to create a diversion before Sam got there and put himself in the firing line, which meant going back to his original plan – and piss off the demon. “He can’t come – you made sure of that, too.”

The demon scowled, uncertainty clouding his black eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Sam’s sick. I mean, really sick. When I left him, he was unconscious, with a high fever, thanks to your freakin’ psychic spamming. I couldn’t wake him up. So, he’s not comin’. He can’t. He’s out of it. Your little game of messing with his head backfired, you hell spawn son of a bitch.”

Geoffrey paced the confines of the room, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. “So, the yellow-eyed demon’s favourite little human is down for the count. That’s even more perfect.” He grinned, turning back to face the furious hunter. “He’s my meat, now, and you just handed him to me on a plate. All I need to know is where his sorry ass is, and this will all be over.”

Dean snorted in disbelief. “Like I’d tell you where my brother is. You’re dumber than I thought.” He pursed his lips. “Which is pretty dumb, come to think of it.”

“I’ll just take what I want!” The demon snarled, and then Geoffrey threw his head back, letting out a guttural scream as a thick cloud of oily black smoke poured from his mouth. The demonic cloud hovered for a few tense seconds as the young clerk collapsed bonelessly to the floor, and then it arrowed straight for the green-eyed hunter.

“Oh, Jeez…” Dean pressed his back against the wall, closing his eyes as the demon flowed across his chest and shoulders in a suffocating wave. He felt the icy, cloying touch of tendrils caressing his face, and he gritted his teeth, wondering why the demon hadn’t possessed him already. Realisation hit him like a bucket of cold water as he remembered the tiny silver charm nestled against his chest. Opening his eyes as the demon drew back, he smirked at the hovering black cloud of pure evil. “Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”

With an unearthly screech, the demon flowed back to its former host, pinning the dazed young man flat to the floor as it forced itself into his mouth and down his throat. Geoff sat up; his black eyes baleful pools of hate as he stared at the smug hunter. Swiftly, he got to his feet, and strode over to where Dean sat propped against the wall. Bending down, he wrapped one hand around the hunter’s throat, digging his fingers cruelly into Dean’s flesh as he squeezed. “I’d say it sucks to be you!”

Dean couldn’t even move out of the way as the demon’s other fist smashed into his face. Bright lights flashed before his eyes, before darkness curled at the edges of his vision. The bony fist pounded at him again and again, and the darkness washed over him in a wave, carrying him on its crest away from the pain. Faintly he could hear Sam’s voice in full rant, reminding him in that breathless, staccato tone that it really wasn’t a good idea to piss off the demon. As the wave curled, dumping him in a sea of smothering black velvet, Dean vowed that if he got out of this one with his skin intact, he was going to get himself a brand new conscience – one that didn’t sound so annoyingly like his mother hen little brother.

*     *     *     *     *

“How far?” Sam fidgeted on the seat, earning the tenth glare from Ellen in less than ten minutes.

“Sam – for God’s sake, stop squirming. You’re making me nervous, and I’m damned nervous enough already, goin’ after this damned demon!” Sighing heavily, Ellen scanned the road ahead, spotting the exit sign as it flashed past. “Next exit – we’re almost there.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I damned well wasn’t gonna let you drive yourself out here.” Ellen shot a concerned glance at her passenger as she guided the car down the exit ramp. “Sam, we’ll find him, all right?”

Nodding, Sam stared out the window, chewing on a thumbnail as he searched for the street name circled on the napkin clutched tightly in his other hand. The shaggy haired hunter was tense, every nerve stretched to the limit. He wasn’t ready for a fight of any kind, much less with a demon-possessed psychic. Icy fingers of fear ghosted down his spine, and a shiver wracked his tall frame.

“Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam consulted the hastily drawn map, and glanced at the cross street as they came to the bottom of the exit ramp. “Turn left here. It should be the next cross street.”

*     *     *     *     *

Somewhere close by, a woman was sobbing – a broken, ugly sound. Dean struggled to pull his sluggish mind into gear. His sense of the world slowly returned, along with a truckload of pain. He kept his eyes closed, focussed on his breathing, and tried to pinpoint the source of the pain. One bright spot flared across his ribs, and he wondered if one of them was cracked. His face felt as though it was on fire, and it throbbed in time with the beat of his heart. He felt something warm trickling down his cheek, onto his neck, and he tasted blood on his tongue.

Shut up!”

The suddenness of the harsh voice stunned the sobbing woman into silence, and shocked the battered hunter into full awareness. Dean raised his head, blinking rapidly to clear his eyesight, and looked slowly around the basement.

Elizabeth glanced quickly at him, her eyes red and swollen, tears glistening on her cheeks. She quickly looked away, dropping her gaze to the floor, her shoulders hunched as if she expected to receive a blow.

Geoff stalked back and forth between the far wall and the bottom of the stairs, agitation in every line of his slim frame. He checked his watch, and looked over at the hunter, his black eyes widening a little as he saw that Dean was awake. “So, back in the land of the living.”

Dean’s lips curled into a half-hearted smirk. “Can’t keep a good man down.”

Drawing a deep breath, Geoff looked at the defiant man for a long moment, before strolling over to the far wall. He turned, leaned his shoulders against the cold bricks, and spread his hands, creating a small fireball, which he began to toss from hand to hand.

“So, where does the show go from here, Geoff?” Dean eyed the ball of flame, swallowing down a tiny lump in his throat as he thought of Sam’s visions of him burning alive.

“We’re waiting for your brother, like I told you,” the possessed clerk replied flatly.

“I told you – he’s not comin’. He can’t.”

“Then I guess we’ll have a long wait, won’t we? Hope you don’t have to have a bathroom break.”

Dean arched his brows in mock surprise. “What – no pee break? That’s inhuman. Oh, wait – that’s right, I forgot. You’re not human.”

Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“I think I’m adorable.”

The demon snorted in disbelief. He turned his gaze toward the basement door, his obsidian eyes narrowed to mere slits as he tossed the fireball back and forth between his hands.

“So tell me, Geoff. Why Sam, huh?”

Geoff shrugged. “Guess it won’t cramp my style to tell you.” He clutched the ball of fire in one hand, blowing on it until the flame died down to a tiny ember. Closing his hand into a fist, he snuffed out the ember, and wiped his hand on his coat. “Not all demons want the same thing.”

Dean nodded slowly. “So, you and old yellow-eyes – I guess you two don’t see eye to eye, huh?” He shuffled around on the floor, bending his knees and bringing his heels back toward his body. “You’re not part of the grand plan.”

“You could say that. Let’s just say that I really don’t see the need to follow his orders concerning the special children.”

“We know yellow-eyes wants Sam and the other special kids for somethin’. Don’t suppose you want to tell me what it is.” Dean got to his knees, and then sat on his heels, settling with his back against the wall.

The demon grinned. “No, you’re right – I have no intention of telling you what’s coming. Let’s just say that it’s big – and Geoffrey here’s got my vote to stick it out till the bitter end. And I intend to make sure that Sam’s out of the running.”

Out of the running for what, you hell spawn son of a bitch? The hunter slowly stretched his fingers toward his sock. “And what about Geoff? Is he willing to go along with whatever you dictate?”

“Geoff’s mine, body and soul. It didn’t take long to convince him that we’d make a great team.” The former clerk glanced over at his fiancée. “The Geoff you knew is gone. Get used to it.”

Elizabeth turned her face away from the monster in human form. She cast a lightning glance at the battered man on the floor a few feet from her chair, seeing his stealthy movements toward something shoved into the side of his boot. Swallowing down her fear, she looked back at the man she once loved. “Why, Geoff? Why did you – turn into….”

“You don’t know, Liz, what it was like for me. Finding out that all of a sudden, I could start a fire with the power of my mind. I couldn’t tell anyone – I didn’t understand what was happening to me. But then, I met that guy – that demon – in the bar, and he showed me.”

“Showed you what?”

“Showed me all that I can be.” Geoff spread his hands. “You have no idea how intoxicating this is.”

“Intoxicating?” Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “You tell me that – that I’ve been living with a monster – some kind of freak – that all our plans are just – blown to hell – and you tell me it’s intoxicating?”

“I’m not a freak!”

Dean’s fingers curled around the small leaf-bladed knife in the scabbard inside his right boot. He relaxed, his gaze on the demon as the man fisted his hands in his hair. “Why don’t you let Elizabeth go, Geoff? You don’t need her any more. You got me.”

The demon sneered. “No, she’s my insurance. She stays.” He cocked his head to one side, his eyes on the ceiling. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips. “It’s all rather academic now. He’s here.”

Damn it, Sammy… Dean carefully slid the knife free of his boot. He ground his teeth in frustration at his stubborn little brother. “So, he’s here. What now?”

“Now? Now I’m gonna try out some of my new found skills – see how well-trained he really is.” Geoff rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I’ve been looking forward to this. I’m going to quite enjoy being the one to take down Sam Winchester.”

Over my dead body… The tiny knife slid back and forth, its razor sharp blade slowly biting through the rough fibres of the rope binding Dean’s legs.

*     *     *     *     *

“There’s the Impala.” Sam pointed a trembling finger at the Chevy as Ellen swung the car around the corner.

The roadhouse owner pulled up behind Dean’s pride and joy and switched the engine off, glancing across the street at the busy auto body shop. She nodded at the print shop across the alley. “Well, there it is.”

The young psychic blew out a sigh as he gazed up at the building in his vision. “Ellen – maybe you should stay out here.”

Ellen shook her head as she got out of the car. “No, Sam. I’m coming with you.”

Sam strode to the trunk of the Impala, taking the spare key from his pocket and fitting it into the lock. He raised the lid, glanced cautiously around, and lifted the false bottom, handing Ellen a pistol, a spare clip, and a bottle of holy water. “Here – they’re consecrated rounds in that clip.” Sam grabbed another bottle of holy water and pocketed a set of rosary beads before closing the trunk. He stepped to the drivers’ door, unlocked it, and knelt on the seat as he reached into the back for his father’s journal. “Okay, let’s go.”

Re-locking the Impala, he made his way across the street to the print shop, pausing at the open door, his brows drawing into a frown. “A little too easy, maybe,” he muttered, pushing the door open and leading Ellen inside. They searched the premises quickly, finding no sign of the demon or Dean, and finally made their way to the loading dock.

Sam paused at the back door of the print shop, his gaze caught by a faint impression in the dust on the loading dock floor. He crouched down, examining the partial print, and grinned faintly. “Dean was here.”

“How do you know?” Ellen frowned at the faint squiggles in the dust.

“That’s his boot print. He went this way.” The young psychic slipped through the door into the tiny alley. Rain slanted down between the buildings, plastering his long bangs to his face as he scrutinised the far wall. He stepped to the right, and then turned slowly back to the left as the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Spotting the scratched steel door a few feet away, Sam glanced at the blonde woman at his side. “This way.”

The door opened soundlessly, and Sam stepped inside, his danger senses on full alert. There was an almost palpable sense of evil hovering about the building, and the young hunter shivered suddenly. He scanned the tiny hallway, spotting the basement stairs almost immediately. Sam swallowed nervously, squared his shoulders, and jumped as the basement door suddenly blew open, slamming back against the wall. His pistol, and the bottle of holy water was torn from his grasp, along with Ellen’s, and flew down the steps into the gloom. Sam heard the faint clatter of metal on stone as the weapons and bottles fell to the floor.

“Come on in, Sam – oh, and feel free to bring your friend with you. The more, the merrier, I always say.”

*     *     *     *     *

All heads turned as the door blew backwards, and the two prisoners tensed as they heard the soft thud of boot heels on the steps outside. Slowly, a pair of long, jean-clad legs came into view, followed soon after by slender hips, a muscular torso, wide shoulders, and finally a lean, handsome face topped by a damp, tousled mop of dark brown hair. Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open a little as she recognised the false cop’s partner.

Sam’s fever-bright eyes scanned the room as he stepped inside, immediately seeking out his brother. His gaze locked with Dean’s for a brief moment and he nodded slightly. Straightening to his full height after reassuring himself that Dean was relatively unharmed, Sam faced the other psychic.

Geoffrey grinned as he walked a few steps toward his nemesis. “Well, well, well – we finally meet face to face. I must say, it took you long enough to get here.” He leaned forward; his brow furrowed, and studied the other psychic’s pale face. “Hey, you don’t look so good, Sammy-boy.”

“It’s Sam, you murdering son of a bitch,” the hunter gritted.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve, Sammy?”

“Not really – Geoffy.”

The demon smirked as he began to circle the tall hunter. “Pretty weak. Your brother’s much better at the smart mouth stuff.”

“I’m just getting started.”

“And who’s your little friend?”

Sam stepped in front of Ellen, shielding her with his big frame as the possessed psychic went to move forward. “Leave her alone. Your fight’s with me.”

“Well, aren’t we the big hero,” Geoff sneered, coming to a halt mere inches from his adversary. He tilted his head back to look into Sam’s expressive eyes, seeing the cold determination in their hazel depths. “Ooh, I’m scared.” He stepped back a few paces, the sneer permanently in place, and raised his hand.

The tall hunter grunted as he felt a hammer blow to the centre of his chest. He flew backwards, narrowly missing Ellen, and crashed into the wall, the breath rushing from his lungs. Shaking his head, he tried to push forward, grimacing as he found himself pinned to the wall. His chest heaving, Sam watched the possessed psychic warily as the man began to slowly pace toward him.

“Not much of a challenge, are you, Sammy?” Geoff casually threw Ellen against the wall by the stairs, holding her immobile while he taunted the shaggy haired psychic. “I really was looking forward to this fight, but it’s not even going to raise a sweat.” He held up a finger, and swung it toward the opposite side of the basement, grinning in delight as the hunter’s lanky body was flung across the width of the room. “I won’t even have to take my jacket off for this one.”

Sam hit the wall, rebounded off it, and sprawled onto the floor. Gasping for air, he slowly rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Faintly, over the roaring in his ears, he could hear his brother cursing savagely. With an effort, he raised his head, looked deep into Dean’s rage-filled eyes, and gave a brief, warning glare. He blinked slowly as his brother glared back, reading the intent in Dean’s eyes. The elder hunter gestured to his bound feet with a nod of his head, and Sam nodded briefly in return. Distract the demon so Dean can get free – good plan, in theory. I just hope to God I can make it a reality before he kills me…. His head snapped up as the demon stalked closer.

“Freakin’ hell spawn son of a bitch! I’ll freakin’ tear you apart…” The ropes holding Dean’s legs parted, falling to the floor, and the green-eyed hunter met his brother’s pain-filled gaze, reading the warning in the glassy hazel eyes. Biting his lip, he watched the possessed young man stalk toward his little brother, while his fingers flipped the knife blade up toward his wrists. Dean glanced back at his younger sibling, conveying his intentions to Sam with a look and a gesture. He saw the shaggy head nod slightly before Sam turned his attention back to the demon, and he went to work on the ropes around his hands, desperation lending speed to his movements as his brother was thrown across the room once more.

“Come on, Sam, why don’t you fight me?” Geoffrey sighed as he slammed the hunter into the wall near the stairs. “Where are all those wonderful fighting skills I’ve been hearing so much about?” He strolled across to where the other psychic was rolling weakly on the floor, and kicked him sharply in the ribs. “What’s the matter, Sammy-boy?”

Sam curled himself into a ball, drawing his knees up against his chest as the demon kicked him again. Watching through slitted eyes, he waited until Geoff drew his leg back a third time before exploding into sudden, rapid movement. His long legs drove out, with the full strength of his powerful frame. Sam’s boots smashed with sickening force into the clerk’s lower belly, doubling the young man over and sending him flying backwards. The shaggy haired hunter clambered to his feet and stumbled forward as the bank clerk tried to straighten up, launching a straight left which pulped Geoff’s lips against his teeth.

Snarling, Geoff staggered out of range of the next blow, spitting blood as he glared at the tall psychic. He wrapped an arm across his belly, his ragged breathing loud in the sudden hush of the basement as he tried to quell the nausea in his gut. With the demon’s power, he shook off the effects of the pile-driving kick and lunged toward his adversary, his leg driving out in a savage kick aimed at the hunter’s groin.

Twisting desperately, Sam spun to the side, hooking his foot behind Geoff’s ascending ankle and giving a surging heave. The young clerk let out a startled yell and lost his balance, his arms flailing as he crashed to the floor. Sam bent swiftly, wrapping his arm around Geoff’s neck and hauling him to his knees. He glanced over at Dean, his grip on the demon possessed young clerk slackening for a split second as he saw his brother’s arms spring free of the coarse rope binding his wrists.

Geoff felt the slight loosening of the corded arm across his throat, and twisted, throwing Sam away from him with a demonic shove. He heard the hunter’s winded grunt as the taller man hit the floor. Surging forward as Sam struggled to his knees, he wrapped both hands around the hunter’s throat, picking him up and driving him hard against the wall. Geoff’s gleaming black eyes locked onto Sam’s hazel ones, and he tightened his stranglehold, grinning savagely as he heard the tortured wheeze of his nemesis trying to draw air into his starved lungs.

Black spots swam before Sam’s eyes. The demonic grip across his windpipe prevented him from getting more than the tiniest trickle of air. Desperately, he tried to throw the demon off, his hands pulling against Geoff’s wrists in an effort to loosen the crushing pressure. The other psychic leaned closer, and Geoff’s mocking voice whispered in his ear, “If you only knew what was coming, Sam – you’d give in right here, right now.”

Sam froze, his eyes widening in horror as the demon laughed. Geoff straightened up, and eased his chokehold a fraction, allowing Sam to drag in a tiny, ragged breath. “Nothing to say, Sam? Not even a heartfelt goodbye?”

The shaggy haired hunter caught a hint of movement behind the demon, and he fastened his gaze on the obsidian eyes of the possessed man. “Good…night…”

Geoff blinked in confusion, and then he let out a startled grunt as he jerked forward. His hands fell away from Sam’s throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crashed to the floor, revealing a smirking Dean.

Sam smiled shakily as he drew precious air into his lungs. “Took – you – long enough.”

The green-eyed hunter lowered the length of pipe in his hand and appraised his battered sibling. “You okay?”

“Great – you?”

The elder Winchester glanced from the piece of pipe to the unconscious demon, and winked. “I feel much better, now.” He lunged forward as his sibling slid down the wall, tossing the pipe aside to wrap his arms around Sam’s trembling frame. “Easy there, Sasquatch. I gotcha.” Dean gently lowered his brother to the floor, and knelt beside him as Ellen slid to a halt by his side.

Ellen rubbed at the growing lump on the back of her head, and glanced from one Winchester brother to the other. “You boys all right?

Dean handed over his knife. “Peachy. Here, I’ll see to Sammy and this son of a bitch – you go cut Elizabeth free.” He turned back to his sibling, and grinned as he wiped a stray trickle of blood from his face. “Hell of a move, dude. I knew those freaky long legs would come in handy one day.”

“Learned – from the – best,” Sam gasped weakly. He slumped, exhaustion battering at his body. His brother’s hands grasped his shoulders, and he smiled a little as he leaned his head back against the wall, letting his eyes drift closed.

“You got that right,” Dean murmured. He glanced at the unconscious psychic lying face down a few feet away, and grimaced as he got to his feet. “You stay there, dude. I’ll get this son of a bitch ready for a one-way trip to some place warm and sunny.”

*     *     *    *     *

Geoffrey Simmonds groaned, and slowly raised his pounding head, his eyelids fluttering open. Groggily, he stared down at his arms, an icy trickle of fear ghosting down his back as he realised he was tied to the same chair that had recently held Elizabeth, and he wondered for a moment how he’d gotten there. Gradually, his vision cleared, and he hissed in anger as he eyed the two grim-faced hunters standing a few feet away. The shorter one smirked as he pointed to the floor, and Geoff looked down, to see a devil’s trap drawn in chalk on the concrete. “Bastards.”

“Well, aren’t we in a good mood.” Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he stepped forward, tipping a bottle of holy water over the possessed man. He watched the demon writhe in agony, his green eyes remorseless. “Have a nice trip, you hell spawn son of a bitch.”

Sam cast a look over his shoulder, to where Ellen waited at the bottom of the stairs with Elizabeth. The pretty, pale-faced girl had refused to leave, even after Dean had explained what was to come. She returned his look, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Sam?” Dean prompted.

The young hunter cleared his throat, and flipped open his father’s journal.

Geoff gritted his teeth, his body beginning to tremble as Sam’s slightly husky voice recited the incantation. He could feel the demon writhing inside, affected by the power of the exorcism. Panic seized the young psychic, and for a moment his mind blanked, his head thrashing from side to side in sympathy with the demon’s pain. And then a thought came to him through the haze of confusion and agony – he still had his psychic ability. He could still get out of this. Geoff closed his eyes, and concentrated on the ropes holding down his arms. A faint wisp of smoke began to rise into the air as the rough hemp started to smoulder.

Sam paused, glancing up, as he caught a faint whiff of burning fibres. He could feel Dean’s curious gaze on him, knowing his elder brother was wondering why the exorcism stopped. He stared at the bound man inside the devil’s trap, shivering a little as the psychic raised his head and gazed back. Sam felt as if the demon-possessed man was staring into his soul, and he swallowed convulsively, unable to look away. Geoff smirked, his black eyes boring into Sam’s, bringing to the surface all of the young hunter’s fears for his own destiny.

Dean frowned as he heard his brother’s voice falter, and finally stop. Looking up, he saw Sam staring at the demon, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide, as if mesmerised. “Sam! Finish it! Now!”

Sam jumped, darted a nervous glance at his sibling, and rested a trembling finger on the open page of the journal. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and kept reading.

Dean flicked the remainder of his holy water at the demon, snapping its attention away from his baby brother. “Suck it up, you son of a bitch!” The elder Winchester grinned savagely as the possessed man screamed in torment.

The young psychic froze, his heart hammering in his chest. My vision…oh God… As if in a dream, he saw the demon possessed young man rear back in his chair, heard the sharp snap of the ropes being broken, and saw Geoff’s fist clench. The journal fell from his suddenly numb fingers. Almost without conscious thought, Sam moved across the intervening space as Geoffrey raised his arm. He sucked in a sharp, shallow breath as he slid to a halt in front of his brother, turning to face the human monster rising from the chair.

A bright glow erupted in Geoffrey’s hand, and he snapped his arm forward, sending the fireball winging straight toward Dean. “Suck this!”

*     *     *     *     *

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