Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!
Sam realized with a jolt that he was back in the wooden room... and out of his own head.
"My brother's going to rip your head from your shoulders," he warned, his voice shaking.
Sylvia smirked. "Really? Well, I'd like to see him try."
She flicked her hand upwards and Sam was thrown back against the back wall, letting out a scream as the sudden movement sent waves of pain over his chest. Sylvia stepped forwards, her eyes narrowing.
"I'm fed up of looking at your face," she snarled, almost to herself. "I don't want to see it anymore."
There was something in her voice, something dark and sinister that set off the alarm bells in Sam's head. He clenched his jaw, struggling desperately against her hold.
Hurry, Dean! he yelled inside. Please
He pulled out the rock salt gun, took a second deep breath to steady his spinning head, and then kicked the door open and ducked inside, a harsh shout ripping from his lips. He had about two seconds to take in the room, the possessed woman swinging around to face him and Sam pinned against the opposite wall with blood rushing over his chest. Then, before he had time to react, he was thrown into the wall by an invisible force and his head exploded in pain.
"Fine," Sylvia snarled. "No more playing around. You die first."
Agony exploded in his chest and Dean let out a harsh yell of pain. He heard Sam weakly calling his name and lifted his head to see tears rushing down his brother's face. He tried to call out to him but all he could do was mouth Sam's name.
And then, suddenly, a peircing scream ripped through the air and the pressure on his chest vanished. At the same time a deafening blam! echoed out through the room. Dean felt the floor against his knees and cracked his eyes open, struggling to draw a breath, his whole body shuddering as it struggled to deal with the unbearable agony rolling over him. He looked up to see Sam standing shakily a few meters from him, the rifle raised. The demon had been blown backwards into the door. As Dean struggled to comprehend what had just happened, Sam staggered over to him, ripped the silver knife from his belt and threw it. It struck the demon in the chest.
Dean struggled to focus on his little brother. He wanted to tell him that he was fine, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, the darkness closed in on him and he felt himself falling away from the world, unable to claw his way back.
Sam managed to catch his brother before Dean slumped to the ground and laid him back against the wall, barely strong enough himself to support him. Panicking, he checked his brother's pulse and found it beating steadily, if a little fast. Sam let out a sigh of relief and collapsed back against the wall beside Dean, allowing his eyes to slide shut.
He came for me... I'm with Dean... it's all gonna be okay...
Dean awoke to a dull, throbbing pain in his chest. He stared up at the plain white ceiling above him, blinking slowly, before turning his head to the side. He was back in their motel room, the only light the lamp on the desk. He struggled to see through the dim light, looking slowly around. He caught sight of a huddled shape on the other bed, and instantly tensed, but then he recognized his little brother. He opened his mouth but his voice came out as a croak.
Sam's head jerked up and his dark brown eyes fixed on Dean. He didn't smile, just uncurled himself and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Dean. How-w are you f-feeling?"
Dean didn't miss the way his brother's voice was trembling and pushed himself up on his elbows, concern leaping into his face.
"Fine. What's wrong, Sam?"
Sam shook his head, and then shuddered. He rose to his feet and retrieved a glass of water from the table. He returned to Dean and held out the glass, along with two tablets.
His hand shook wildly, and Dean reached out to take the glass. He swallowed down the tablets, still watching Sam. "Sammy? Are you hurt? Where's Bobby?"
"I asked him to go get some more meds. He kept starin' at me and... asking if I was okay... just stuff."
"Are you okay?"
Sam shrugged and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. Dean pushed himself up to lean back against the headboard, taking every detail of his brother in carefully. He looked pale, and every few seconds he trembled or shuddered. If he looked carefully he could see the frantic pulsating of his chest as he hyperventilated. But Sam didn't seem to be in a panic. Dean examined the bandage on his chest, the sores and cuts he had recieved over the last few days and his heart sank a little. Sam shivered again, and Dean bit back a shout of fustration.
"Sam, calm down. Nothing's after you here."
"N-No, I know."
"Then what the hell's wrong? Slow down, you'll faint if you keep breathing like that."
"Henrickson and Bobby won't let anything get to us-"
"No, Dean, I can't."
Dean blinked, stopped in his tracks by the sudden emotion in Sam's voice. He folded his arms, wordlessly probing Sam to tell him. Sam glanced at him hesitantly. Even his eyes seemed to move erratically, constantly jumping from place to place.
"When I woke up in the cabin... I dunno. There was something wrong. Since then I can't stop... well, this. I have this headache that's just... and I dont know..."
Dean swallowed hard as fear crept into his chest. "Well, you also have an inability to finish your sentences."
Sam managed a small smile. Dean tried to smile back but the muscles in his face wouldn't work, so instead he cleared his throat and rubbed his chest, relieved to find that the pain was beginning to receed.
"What do you think is wrong?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. But I'll find out."
Dean nodded and lapsed into silence again. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy. He started as darkness closed in on him, jerking awake again. Sam had risen to his feet and was pushing him back down to lie flat.
"Go back to sleep, Dean, I'll still be here when you wake up."
"Nuh... wanna talk to you..."
And, for once, Dean couldn't argue. He didn't know if it was the seditives Sam had just given him or the exhaustion from the last few days finally showing, but within a few moments he had fallen into a deep, restless sleep.
Sam watched Dean sink into unconsciousness before returning to his own bed and curling up against the wall again. It was good to know that his brother was okay, but Bobby would surely be back soon with Henrickson in tow, and then the constant glances of anxiety and worry would be back. He was so sick of people looking at him like he was about to keel over. He knew how he looked - he looked like death warmed over and then left on the table to go cold again. And he had wanted to talk to her before they got back, but it was becomming clear that she wasn't coming...
The lights flickered suddenly, and Sam sat up. He listened, biting his lip, and heard a small rustle outside. He rose to his feet, strode to the door and pulled it open. Outside their motel the night was dark and silent, the lampposts letting out small, ghostly white mists in place of lights. Sam glanced at Dean, who was still asleep, and then slipped out of the room. He shut the door softly behind him and turned, pushing his hands into his pockets. He had changed his jeans since his time at the cabin, but he couldn't seem to wash away the horrible clammy feeling the whole place had set off inside him. He stepped forwards into the night, looking around.
A sudden gust of wind rushed over him and he stopped. Then, slowly, he turned. Ruby was standing behind him, her face strangely hesitant and timid.
"Hi, Sam," she said tentatively, managing a wobbly smile.
Sam looked at her for a few moments. He watched as she took in his shaking figure, his panting breaths, his racing heart, the bandage on his shoulder. Then her eyes flickered up to his again.
"I'm so sorry for what I did... I just... it was you or the world, you know?"
"Dean was talking to me, he would've got through."
"I didn't know that. I... I'm sorry," she finished lamely. She spread her hands. "Take a shot at me if you want. I wouldn't blame you."
Sam laughed shortly. "Yeah right. I couldn't hit a girl." He surveyed her silently for a few moments before sighing. "Its okay. I would've done the same in your place."
Relief rushed over her face like a tidal wave and she let her hands drop. "Thank you. Its more than I deserve." She laughed. "You know, when I first heard your call I thought you were going to kill me."
"But you came anyway."
"What else could I do?"
Sam scuffed one foot on the pavement, hesitating. Ruby sighed and stepped forwards so that they were at a friendly distance apart rather than hanging back.
"I get the impression you wanted to ask me something else."
"Yeah." Sam looked up at her, biting his lip. "What's wrong with me?"
Ruby smiled ruefully. "You mean the twitchy-jerky stuff?"
Sam nodded, slightly put off by her bluntness.
"Honestly, I think its your powers. I gave them a big shock, you needed time to stop and then someone to help you come out of your coma peacefully. But then that bitch Sylvia came and just yanked you out too fast and you couldn't take it. You don't mess with stuff like this. You've probably found that you've lost most of your powers?"
"Yeah. I can only talk in people's minds, send out signals. I moved a chair a few minutes ago with my mind. And I could see what Dean and Bobby and Henrickson were thinking, but only if I tried really hard."
"The rest will come back in time."
"And the... ah, twitchy-jerky?"
Ruby shrugged. "Who knows? You could be stuck with it for life, or it might wear off."
Sam felt tears pricking at his eyes. So no matter what he did, he was always going to be a freak. Talking to Ruby hadn't helped him at all. Ruby seemed to notice his despair because she put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes suddenly tender again.
"I'm sorry it turned out like this, Sam. Nothing's certain anymore."
Sam laughed humourlessly. "I don't think it ever was."
"I wish there was more I could say."
Sam shook his head. "S'fine. I'll see you another time."
Taking the hint, she stepped aside and he headed for the motel. As he reached the door she called to him.
"Hey, Sam? Your pals aren't too keen on me right now. You might not want to mention this little chat."
"I'm not stupid. I wasn't going to."
"I'll see you soon."
He nodded shortly and then stepped inside, without waiting to see her vanish.
As he shut the door behind him, Dean stirred suddenly and opened his eyes.
"Sammy? Where'd you go?"
"Just wanted some air. Go back to sleep, I'm okay."
Dean struggled into a sitting position, blinking hard. Groaning inwardly, Sam moved over to him. "Dean, seriously. Unless you want to faint in the middle of chatting some innocent girl up tomorrow?"
"Sam, I didn't get to say..."
Sam paused, and Dean jerked his head akwardly at the bed. Sam sat down and Dean leant forwards, bracing himself with one arm.
"Sam, it doesn't matter what you are. You're still my brother."
Sam blinked at him. "Dean, I don't even think I'm human anymore. I'm a fr-"
"No." Dean's voice cut him off. "No, you're not, and if you ever dare to say that again I'll tell Bobby you still suck your thumb."
"But I don't suck my-"
"Doesn't matter." Dean reached out and took Sam's shoulder, his hand exactly where Ruby's had been only a few moments before. "Sam, we're gonna work this out. Everything - is - gonna - be - fine."
Something inside Sam broke apart and he felt his eyes welling up. Suddenly unable to stop himself, he leant forwards and hugged Dean tightly, just needing the touch of his brother again. Needing to know he wasn't alone. He felt Dean wrap his arms around him and suppressed a sob, closing his eyes.
"Its okay, Sammy," Dean murmured, running one hand over his hair. "I'm gonna sort this. You're gonna be fine. Now we can finally be brothers again."
Okay, was that a giant chick flick or what?! Thank you so much for all the reviews you guys gave me and I'm so, so sorry for the long waits towards the end of this fic. I hate real life! :) Thanks for reading!