K Hanna Korossy
"Tell me where he is."
"He's gone," Dean rasped. "Took off whe'…was sleeping…no note…not first time."
"Oh, yes, I know this refrain: poor Dean Winchester, always abandoned by his family." The girl blinked her inky eyes. "Trouble is, I don't believe you don't know where your brother went. So, let's try this again. Where. Is. He?"
Crushed flat against the floor, the only freedom of movement Dean had was to smirk. "Went t'…try out for…American Idol."
"Where is he?" The demon twisted a hand.
Dean groaned, throat flexing. "Joined…circus."
Bubblegum-pink nails slowly closed into a fist. "Tell me what I want to know."
"…gone…" Dean choked, bright red blood bubbling from his lips. "…fish-ing…"
The fist tugged down, and Dean cried out. "Stubborn fool—where is he?"
"Right behind you. Bitch."
She whirled to look at Sam in the doorway, her free hand already rising to introduce him to another piece of the small building's floor. The look of fury in Sam Winchester's eyes never flickered, though, as he started chanting Latin while edging into the room, making a circuit of it along the walls.
The demon frowned at him, stared at her hand, then tried again. With no more result than before.
Sam reached his brother on the far side of the room and grasped him under the arms, easily pulling him over to the wall. The Latin never broke off, and the demon was shaking now, glaring at him with something close to fear.
A weak hand pulled at his jacket, and Sam enfolded it in his own without looking, never breaking eye contact with the demon who'd hurt his brother as he finished the last line of the exorcism. Pretty bow lips stretched wide to expel a cloud of black smoke that boiled and writhed against the ceiling a moment before dissipating back to Hell. In its wake, the girl collapsed, breathing but unconscious.
Sam pivoted in his crouch, his full attention going to his brother. Gaze softening to pain as he took in the bloody and strained features. "Hey. Dean. You with me, man?"
Dean coughed wetly, tugging without strength at his brother as Sam eased him on his side so he could breathe. "Wha—? You…"
"Painted the devil's trap on the roof." There was a hint of a smile in Sam's sober eyes.
Dean's laugh hurt to hear.
Sam curled a hand around the back of his head, squeezed the fingers that were twined with his jacket. "Just rest now, Dean. I'm gonna get you fixed up, all right?"
"Yeah," Dean sighed. His eyes obediently slid shut.
Fool, maybe, but see? Not stubborn at all.