Chapter 8

Dean fell to his side, his arm in excruciating pain. He looked over to Sam, he was passed out on the floor. The ripped t-shirt piece around his neck was completely soaked with blood. Dean slowly lifted himself off the floor, supporting his weight on his left arm. He was starting to feel dizzy, and the bullet wound was starting to bleed extensively.

I have to focus

Dean surveyed the room. His gun was laying on the wooden floor. He could still feel the blistering coldness of organic phenomenon.

Where are you….…you bastards?

He walked over to his gun and picked it up, taking the last two bullets out and putting them in his pocket. He then rushed over to his seemingly exanimate younger brother.

He bent down next to him, putting his head in his lap. "Sam? wake up man." Dean said, desperately trying to wake him.

Sam gave little response to Dean at first, but he managed to lift his head up. Dean threw Sam's

flaccid arm over his left shoulder and slowly stood him up.

"Sam, I have to get you out of here before those son-of-a-bitches come back."

Sam tried to talk, but instead he clutched his neck in pain. He tried to motion Dean in the direction of the gift shop.

"Sam what is it?"

Sam lightly pressed on his throat. " B-b-bur-n" he said in a raspy voice.

"Sam we'll come back later, after I get you to a hospital."

"Oh I don't think he'll be needing one, not after we're through with him…the both of you." The older man's voice said. William was back.

Dean lowered Sam to the floor, leaning him against a bookcase. Sam's eyes slowly began to shut.

"I not going to let you hurt him……I swear that on my grave." Dean said high-pressured voice.

"How about swearing that on your mother's grave." William said with a malicious laugh.

"You son of a bitch! I'll send you straight to hell!"

"Now now boys, lets not fight." The old woman said. Her diaphanous figure was starting to become visble. " It will all be over before you know it son, now we could do this the easy way…..or the hard way."

Dean slowly backed up, standing in front of Sam.

"Oh please, you've failed Dean admit it. You've failed as a big brother and you've failed as a son." William said.

"Shut the hell up!" Dean said. He noticed the salt gun in the corner of the room. There was two rounds left, that could keep them away long enough for him to burn the picture.

William caught Dean looking at the gun. "Don't even think about it sonny boy. Sarah, won't you bring me that picture in the other room please, I want to show him that the gun he has in his possession is mine, it was stolen from me and I want it back."

Sarah obeyed. She gave out a audible gasp, then floated back into the living room. "It's gone!"

"What do you mean gone?"

"Like I said William, it's gone!"

Willam's face tightened in anger as he walked up to Dean, lifting him off off the ground with his stare. "Where is it boy?"

"Hey!"

They all looked behind them. Michelle was hunched over next to the blazing fireplace holding the picture in one hand and the box of salt in the other. William broke his concentration, sending Dean to the ground.

"Wait what are you…."

"Go to hell!" Michelle said, sending the picture and salt in the fulgent flames.

"Noooo!" William shouted. His figure was seemingly melting away, until it was non existent.

"William! You ignorant girl what have you done!" Sarah said with an enraged tone.

Suddenly, all the spirits that Sarah had "trapped" in her home for all these years surrounded her, taking her through one of the wooden doors that led to nowhere.

It was over.

Michelle hobbled over to Dean, putting out her hand to help him up.

"I thought you were…."

"C'mon lets get two to a doctor." she said with a small smile.

They both grabbed one of Sam's arms, lifting them over their heads to rest on their shoulders.

They left the house, the door slammed shut behind them.

----------------

Sam awoke to the beeping of monitors.

"Morning Sunshine!" Dean said. His arm had been wrapped several times in bandages.

Sam tried to talk again, be he still couldn't. His neck had also been wrapped in heavy bandages.

"Oh, here I bought you this. The Doc said you wouldn't be talking for a couple of days so…." Dean said, handing him a small black slate and some chalk.

Sam starting scribbling on the slate. He held it up to Dean.

"How long have you been out, about 2 days. They had to do some constructed surgery on your windpipe, or vocals cords, or some crap like that."

Sam erased the previous message and wrote a new one.

"Yeah, we took care of the couple don't worry."

Sam erased again. He scribbled down another message and held it up.

"Whose we? Me and Michelle…actually she is the one that burned the picture sending their evil asses to hell."

I owe her my life.

Sam erased once more. Smirking, he held up the slate again.

"Michelle and I…..shut up smartass." Dean said with a grin.