AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for everyone who read, reviewed and placed this story on their alerts. We are almost done, and with the finish line so near I am keeping a tight hold on my restless muse so that it won't escape my clutches like it did last time. All errors are mine, no beta reader but myself for this one!

DISCLAIMER: Season 5 has come and go, and I still don't own them. Please don't sue.


by Tari Palantir

John watched quietly as Dean and the demon taunted each other. He could feel the invisible force pinning him to the wall lighten a little as the demon was distracted, and he managed to slowly creep his left hand under his back to grasp the spare blade he had managed to slip in the waistband of his jeans before going out this morning. He eyed his gun on one of the desks in the room, wishing he had brought a spare one as well. Well, wishes won't help you now, he thought.

His heart clenched as the yellow-eyed bastard mentioned Sam's abilities, and how his mind mojo was enabling him to control his youngest. Missouri hinted of the same a few years back, and he tried hard to quell the questions that threatened to take away his focus on the situation at hand. His heart then thudded quicker as he heard the demon announce another round of Sammy's practice and knew he had to act fast if he wanted to have the Winchester line continue on to the next generation.

John saw his eldest look at him briefly, silently asking his father about their battle plan. He gave Dean a knowing look, trying his best to convey what his plans were. Save Sam, I'll take the bastard.

He was rewarded with a minute nod by his 9-year-old son, and together they both faced the evil entity holding their family's most precious treasure hostage.

Time to get our Sammy back.

As the demon once again guided Sam's hand up towards them, John grasped the blade tighter and pushed against his bonds with all his might. He gasped in pain as his arm suddenly, miraculously, broke free from the demon's hold. The split-second of freedom was enough for the former Marine to throw the hidden knife towards their enemy, the weapon's projectile locked towards its target.

John Winchester hated to miss.

Time seemed to slow down as Sam saw the ragged and pointed end of the mobile branch swing down from above towards his chest. He saw Dean's face almost snarl in contempt, looking like the brave warrior about to slay a dragon that he once saw in a storybook.

Sam's arms instinctively rose to defend himself from the threat. His hands grabbed his brother's attacking arm to escape becoming impaled by the crude weapon. Still, Dean had the advantage of strength and leverage, and his eyes widened in alarm as the sharp and pointy end of the mobile branch slowly descended inch by inch towards his chest despite his best efforts to stop its progress. It didn't help matters when Dean's other hand tried to pry his defending limbs away.

"Dean, stop it!" he pleaded. "Please Deanie! Please!" His arms were getting tired from keeping his sibling's attack at bay. He had a feeling that he was somewhat responsible for their mother's death, but he never voiced it out loud, afraid that Dean and his Dad will confirm it. Ever since he could remember, talking about Mommy was a no-no in their family. He tried asking his brother and father numerous times about her and the reason why she died,, but they always told him to "stop asking questions" or in Daddy's case in particular, "not now, Sammy". His family's reluctance to speak about Mom always made him feel left-out, and this only fueled his fear that the reason he wasn't allowed to ask questions was because he himself was the one who killed her. It was only until he overheard Daddy and Uncle Bobby that things became clearer to him. Now it seems there was more to the story then they let on.

"Why should I stop?" Dean replied angrily, pushing against Sam's arms with renewed vigor. "You killed Mom, right above this crib! You ruined our family!"

His brother smiled bitterly at him, before continuing, "I've tried so hard to forgive you for what you have done and forget what happened, but I couldn't." He gestured with his free hand wildly at the blood that was still slowly dripping down the walls towards the center of the room, soaking the wooden floorboards in their wake. "You're evil Sam. It should be your blood that's spilling from this ceiling, not Mom's."

"I'm not evil! I didn't kill Mommy!" Sam replied, shaking his head in denial. His arms were now numb from the pressure above him. He gasped as Dean managed to pry his arms away from his chest and effectively pinned them above his head, leaving him open and vulnerable for his brother's attack.

"Yes you did," Dean shouted, "and for that you have to pay!" He swung his arm down for the killing blow.

Sam tried to break his arms free from Dean's hold but was unsuccessful no matter how much he struggled. He looked up at Dean as he shouted one final plea to his brother. "Noooooooo!" He closed his eyes, anticipating the pain—

- and opened them again as he felt a sudden force come forth from within him, struggling to get out. With his heart thudding loudly in his ears, he let go, and he saw his brother flying backwards towards one of the bleeding walls as the force pushed him away. The mobile branch clattered noisily on the wooden floor, wrenched away from his brother's grasp.

Sam slowly stood up, body trembling at the unexpected power surging in his veins. He turned to his sibling and was shocked to see Dean pinned to the wall. He was struggling against the unseen bonds keeping his stuck, and for some reason Sam knew he was the one causing it.

"I knew it," Dean spat, squirming from his spot, blood from the walls soaking his shirt. "You are a freak."

"Dean, I—"he stuttered, unable to explain himself. He couldn't understand what was happening. "W-what's going on? I feel w-weird." He could feel a new force rushing through his body, and he clenched his hands into tiny fists as he tried to quell the new tide of energy trying to escape from his form.

Sometime after he woke up, things changed. He couldn't figure out what it was exactly, but he now understood why he'd been having this unexplained feelings that something was wrong. He looked around the room, trying to see what he had missed. He tried to recall what happened before everything seemed to have changed. Images of his brother suddenly flooded his brain as he tried to remember.

Dean shaking him awake in his bed, calling him a girl -

Dean serving him Spaghettios, telling him it's his favorite -

Dean standing by the window, ordering him to pack his stuff to look for Dad-

Dean looking at him in concern, wiping the blood that suddenly fell from his nostrils-

Dean holding out his hand, asking him to come inside their old house -

And then it dawned on him. It all makes sense now, he thought.

He didn't know why and how, but he knew what he had to do. He bent to pick up the fallen mobile branch from the floor, which was now sodden with blood. Sam ignored the coppery tang in the air, and boldly strode in front of his brother.

"So what now, Sammy?" Dean taunted, looking at the makeshift stake in his shaking hand as he approached. "You wanna try that on me?"

Sam stared at his brother and tried to ignore the taunts thrown at him. He looked critically at the person he admired the most in the world. He knew there was a small chance that he was making a mistake, knew that his brother had a right to punish him for killing their mother, but every fiber of his being screamed that this is what he should do. He didn't follow his instincts before, but maybe now he should.

He felt the tears cascading down his cheeks as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

His brother scoffed at his heartbroken apology. "Sorry? Do you think that would all make it better?"

Sam shook his head sadly in response, raising his stake-wielding arm, pointy end aimed at his older brother's chest.

Dean frowned at the sudden role-reversal. He struggled more insistently at his bonds, but he couldn't break it off.

"First you killed Mom, and now you'll kill your brother?" he asked angrily. "I knew it, you're nothing but a monster!"

Sam wiped at his wet cheeks with his free arm and took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he could muster. He could hear someone calling his name in the distance.


I should have known, he thought.

"I didn't kill Mommy," he replied in a determined voice. "And I won't kill my brother." he moved his arm further back, ready to strike.

"Then why are you itching to bury that pointed thing in me?"

Sam smiled, dimples and all. "Because you're not my Deanie."

The broken mobile branch hit its target. The entire room brightened as his brother screamed in agony. Sam thought he saw a knife coming towards him, but then the light surrounding him was extinguished and he knew no more.

Dean saw his father's knife cut through the tension-filled air towards their enemy as he too struggled to break free from the demon's hold. He had felt the pressure pinning him to wall ease a little while the demon gleefully recounted his plan for his little brother, as if the demon's concentration slightly went off. The quick look that he and his father exchanged was enough for him to know what he had to do.

He had to save Sammy even if it's the last thing he'll do.

As the demon snarled at the surprised pain of having a silver knife embedded on his shoulder, Dean felt the barrier holding him at bay break, and he fell awkwardly from the wall. He immediately stood up and sought out his brother, unmindful of his ungraceful descent. He saw his father break loose as well from his peripheral vision.

"NO!" the demon yelled in fury, ripping the knife from his shoulder and trying to grab his young charge in retaliation.

But Dean was one step ahead of him, for he had already grabbed Sam and was now half-dragging, half-carrying his little brother away from the monster that threatened to once again ruin his already fractured family. Vaguely he heard his father tackle the possessed man down on the classroom floor, trying to wrench the knife from the demon's grasp, all the while chanting an exorcism rite to banish the enemy in their midst. His little brother lay passive in his arms, and he clutched his sibling tighter.

"Sammy, please wake up, please wake up," he murmured in Sam's ear as they moved, hoping against hope that the black unseeing orbs will revert back to familiar blue-green color he loved.

His pleas were cut short as he heard his father shout in pain.

He stopped and turned just in time to see his father get thrown out of the room by the demon's telekinetic power. The classroom door was slammed shut by the same force, effectively trapping him and his baby brother with the demon.

"Okay, squirt," Dean muttered, eyeing the demon warily. "Now would be a great time to snap out of it."

The demon then fixed his gaze on the remaining Winchesters and Dean shuddered internally at the hungry gleam in the entity's yellow eyes as it raked on his little brother's still form.

"Mine," the demon hissed angrily, arm raised with the blade which was now dripping with its own blood from his father's attack.

Dean tightened his hold on his younger sibling, ready to shield him from the enemy. Outside the classroom, he could hear his father battering at the door, still chanting the exorcism rite at the top of his voice.

"No, Sammy's ours. He's mine, you hear me?" he shouted back possessively.

"You Winchesters have been a thorn on my side for far too long," the demon spoke in annoyance. The possessed man flinched a little, the exorcism starting to take effect. "It's time I get rid of you and take what's been mine all along." And with that he aimed and threw the knife towards the brothers.

Dean instinctively turned his back and shielded his younger sibling, with his shoulder supporting Sam's chin and his arms curled around Sam's limp body.

I love you little bro, he thought, closing his eyes and wishing that his father's exorcism will work in time.

Please review! Thanks! ~~Tari~~