Part Nine: Done Deal

The place was as much a home as he'd ever had, one of the few places in this world that felt almost safe. Sam was terrified to see it now, in this way, because he knew what it meant. The places he saw when he shut his eyes were never in for anything good.

"Bobby?" he shouted. "Where are you? Bobby!"

He went room to room, but Bobby wasn't there. The back door had been left wide open, and Sam slowly made his way through it to the salvage yard that lay ahead. Bobby was laid out in the back of an old pickup a few feet away, his head falling down over the edge, his throat slit one side to the other.

In the darkness he saw a pair of yellow eyes; steady, unmoving, watching.

Sam came awake already moving. He hit the lights and grabbed his duffel bag from the floor, picking up clothes from the floor. It didn't matter if they were his or Dean's. He grabbed Dean's wrist and shook him awake. "We're leaving," he said.

Dean sat up and squinted at him, before rubbing at his eyes. "What? What's happened?" he asked, but Sam had tossed him the duffle bag and then fled into the hall.

He turned on the light in the room where his parents were asleep. "We have to leave, now," he told them.

John was on his feet in an instant, but Mary woke slower, like Dean. Sam went back to his room, trusting John to get her up as he went back for Dean. Except Dean had already finished packing their things, and was tying on his shoes. "What's going on?" he asked again.

"I had a dream," Sam said, before holding out a hand to pull Dean up and then give him a push towards the door. "We don't have much time."

John and Mary were waiting by the rental car when they got outside, and Dean threw their duffle bag in the trunk and then slammed it shut.

John was watching Sam, his eyes narrowed. "You want to tell me what you saw?" he asked.

Sam had grabbed the keys from his father's hands. Mary noticed, and ushered herself and Dean into the backseat. "We have to go now, there isn't time, he might already be there and I can't--" Sam broke off, moving around the car towards the driver's seat.

John grabbed him by the arms, and pulled him back towards him. "Sam, calm down. You need to tell me what you saw."

"Bobby," Sam said. "It's going after Bobby." Then Sam looked up, eyes suddenly blazing, his hands suddenly still, and his voice sounded exactly like John's when he said, "This time, I'm going to stop him."

John let him drive, because he didn't dare ask for him to give back the keys.

xxxxx

Sam didn't really remember the drive.

The rental car didn't have that same comfortable feeling of home that the Impala always had, but it was new and had power steering, and he'd kept his foot pushing the gas petal to the floor the whole way there. They only made it there alive because he'd gone on autopilot the moment he'd put the car into drive.

Sam didn't wait for the others. He got out of the car and ran up the porch into the house. He felt like he was still dreaming, and when he reached it, the backdoor was open just as he knew it would be. He forced himself to walk through it. Sam could hear his family running after him, and though John was shouting at him to stop the loudest, it was Dean he felt was closest. He could hear his sneakers on the ground behind him, following right on his heels.

Bobby was beside the pickup on his knees, and the demon was standing behind him, holding a knife to his throat. Sam could see in his mind the bloody line he would draw, but the first thing he noticed wasn't that, it was that he had some new poor soul now. The man was maybe middle-aged, brown hair just a year or two from going grey, eyes crinkled at the corners and heavy work boots like maybe before this he'd worked construction.

It was his laugh lines that bothered Sam the most, but he was so tired of all of this that he mostly just felt grateful--because at least it wasn't Bobby, and this way when he killed him he could just tell himself that all he'd done was set him free.

Sam didn't have all that many people in his life to care about, and this thing had been taking them all away from him, one by one, all his life. He was done playing by his rules. It was time to use the gifts he'd been given.

Sam tore his eyes away from Bobby, and looked back to the house. He listened carefully as the doors inside of it all slammed closed. The backdoor was the last one, and Dean came flying through it at the last moment, stumbling on his own momentum as the door shut and latched.

Sam could hear his parents almost at once, pounding on the door and trying to pry it open.

Sam turned to watch Dean, who had glanced at Bobby and then the demon before turning back to him. It took Dean a moment to realize that the demon hadn't put the supernatural lockdown on Bobby's house while their parents were still inside.

Sam had.

Dean opened his mouth to say something to him, but shut it before he could. He stepped slightly closer to Sam as he glanced back at the demon. Bobby hadn't moved, but his eyes narrowed as he watched them.

"What the hell were you thinking coming here, you idjit?" Bobby shouted, heedless of the knife biting into his skin. "And what's with the Ken doll?"

Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Dean," he told him. "This is Dean."

Bobby's eyes went wide, and the demon laughed. "I know, it's wonderful, isn't it?" he asked Bobby, conversationally, like they were friends. "The Winchester boys back together again."

Dean took a step forward, and Sam missed him when he reached out to try and pull him back. Dean held out his hands, palms out, and tried to look calm. "Just tell us what you want from us," he said.

"This isn't a hostage negotiation, Dean," Sam snapped, stepping after him carefully. "You can't reason with demons."

"On the contrary," the demon said. "I'm very reasonable. It just so happens that I love making deals."

"We know better than to make deals with you," Sam said with disgust.

The demon's eyes flashed as they turned to focus on him. "Oh, Sammy, you always were daddy's good little soldier, when all you ever wanted in this world was to be normal. You don't know the power you have. You don't know how insignificant you and your brother would have been without me."

Sam watched the demon's knife. There was a small pearl of blood forming where it was held at Bobby's neck. Sam's own fingers ached to reach for the gun at his waist, but not yet. He had to time it right.

"He'd of been a mechanic like daddy, you'd a been a lawyer," the demon laughed. "You would have both been miserable, in your own ways, but it would have been an inconsequential misery. At least now your suffering has reason."

"I don't give a damn about your reasons," Sam yelled. "You let Bobby and my family go, and then, then maybe we'll deal."

The demon smiled. In one swift move, he removed the knife and pushed Bobby to the ground with a foot on his neck, before dragging Dean forward with a wave of his hand to take his place. He gripped Dean's wrist with his hand and used it to pull him back against him. "You don't really think I'm letting Dean go anywhere?" the demon asked. "The rest of them you can have. I couldn't care less."

He removed his foot and Bobby pulled himself out of his reach, backing up towards Sam. Sam helped him get to his feet. "Go, Bobby," Sam said.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bobby snapped.

The demon tightened his grip on Dean, and Dean let out an involuntary cry as the demon came just one small bit of pressure from snapping his wrist.

"Please, Bobby," Sam said. "You're not helping. I need to do this alone."

"Do as the boy says, Singer," the demon said. "Or I may change my mind."

Sam didn't give him any longer to decide. The back door came open and Sam sent Bobby whirling back inside it, before slamming it shut again on all of them.

The demon grinned again, pulling Dean closer against him. "Alone at last," he said. "See, Sammy? That wasn't so hard. We're making deals already."

Sam shook his head. "I said expressly that I would only deal if you let my family go. You didn't, so we don't have a deal. You let Bobby go on your own."

The demon laughed. "Sammy my boy, this is why you've always been my favorite." He grinned. "Of course, now I'm going to kill them all."

"You're not going to touch them," Sam said. "Let my brother go."

"You're obviously misunderstanding the situation," the demon said. He adjusted his grip on Dean, before reaching out and placing a hand on his left temple. Dean started screaming the moment they touched, and fell to his knees in front of him.

Sam stepped forward, but the demon held up a hand to hold him back. "What are you doing to him?" Sam demanded.

"Me? Nothing," the demon said. "I don't have to. I can't help what he sees when I touch him. He's been sheltered too long, Sam. I need to teach him the things you learned on your own."

"Leave him alone!" Sam shouted, hand going out in front of him, working on pure instinct.

Dean fell away from the demon, collapsing on his back on the ground. The demon looked startled for a single second, and then he smiled. "You have been practicing," the demon said. "Or are you just this strong because of Dean? We always suspected."

"Meg learned the answer to that the hard way," Sam said dangerously. "And so will you."

"That's quite a temper you've got there, Sammy," the demon said. "But let's just cut to the chase. I don't need to make any deals for you. You like it, that rush, am I right? That power at your fingertips, the things you could do. I'm giving you the world. We both know you're already mine."

"You're wrong," Sam said. He reached behind him and wrapped his fingers around the Colt, before pulling the gun out to aim it at the demon. Sam had grabbed that decoy gun before they left Daniel Elkin's home. Then he'd taken the real one from his father's bag and replaced it with the copy, because he knew John wouldn't have let him have the real thing any other way.

And Sam was going to kill this demon himself. This started with him, and it was going to end with him. John could yell at him later.

The demon just laughed when he saw what Sam was holding. "Didn’t daddy teach you not to play with guns?" he asked.

Sam pressed his fingers down, but the gun was flying from his hands before he could fire. The demon grinned, catching the gun midair and tossing it into the open cab of the truck behind him. Sam let out a breath. There was no way he could use his own telekinesis to get it past that demon. He'd lost his shot. He'd hesitated and lost his shot.

"I'm disappointed, Sam," the demon said. "I really thought you were the one, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should keep Dean instead. I wanted you both, but better one that's willing that than the two of you together, working against me."

Dean had pulled himself to his feet behind the demon. His nose was bleeding, leaving a trail down his upper lip. He kept blinking like he couldn't see straight. Sam prayed for him to get back down, to stay out of sight, but Dean's eyes were on the gun.

Sam couldn't even shout for him to stop, not to try it--because that would only draw the demon's attention to him that much sooner. "You really didn't plan any of this very well, did you?" Sam asked the demon, trying to distract him. "You thought what, all your little projects would just fall in line?"

The demon was grinning. Behind him, Dean had just wrapped his fingers around the gun. "You'd be surprised, Sammy, most don't fight me. They say power corrupts, you know. I know you know. You like it too. And Dean--" The demon spun around, knocking Dean to the ground with a vicious back hand. The gun went clattering to the ground, and Dean followed it down, landing flat against the dirt. "Well, he's almost as stubborn as you."

The demon kneeled down beside Dean. "You don't like it?" he asked. "Do you know what would happen if you gave in, Dean? Do you even comprehend the power you would have? All you have to do is take it. Fighting me is useless."

Dean laughed, spitting dirt and blood as he pushed himself up to his knees. "Are you for real?" he asked. "What, you terrorize my family for years and now you want to be buddies?"

The demon glared at him, rising smoothly to his feet. "You want to act like enemies?" he asked. "I'll show you an enemy." He held out a hand, and Dean let out a startled cry, his fingers digging into the dirt as he collapsed back against it. He let out a choking cough, and blood sprinkled against his lips.

Sam got up to lunge forward at him, but he hit the demon's power like a brick wall and fell back against the ground. He fought against it, but he couldn't get any closer. "Dean!" he shouted.

His brother didn't look at him, Sam wasn't even sure he heard him, at first. The he saw Dean kick out his leg. He wasn't fighting against the demon--that would have been useless. Instead, he'd hit the Colt with his foot and sent it flying halfway to Sam.

Sam reached out his hand, and closed his eyes. It took more power than he knew he had, but he pulled the gun the rest of the way. The moment he had the gun back in his hands, he heard Dean's breathing stop. Dean went still, and the demon just watched him, dusting off his hands like his work was done.

For the first time in his life Sam was grateful for his father's lessons, for those targets tacked up on bales of hay or the fences they found on old back roads. Practice, Sammy, practice. He hadn't missed what he was aiming for since he was twelve years old and spent four hours firing his rifles and pistols until he got it right--until his wrists ached and his fingers were calloused and he couldn't even see straight.

When the demon turned to face him, Sam raised the gun with his bloodstained hand and fired without any hesitation, watching as the bullet slammed straight through the man's heart just as easy as any target's center ring. Blue sparks crackled around him, like bottled lightening, and then he fell dead.

Dean took a long gasping breath like suddenly he could breathe again, and Sam felt all the doors open up behind him at once. He saw his parents and Bobby running out, he saw their mouths moving like they were trying to talk, but he couldn't hear them.

The only thing he could hear was Dean's breathing, and the sound of his beating heart.

Note: Only one part to go! I'm so sorry it's taking me so long between updates.