A/N: Thanks again to all the reviews:) They inspired me to write this chapter. Well, here is chapter three! It's a little bit longer. I hope you enjoy it;)

Chapter Three

Seven seconds, that's all it took for Dean to scrutinize his injuries, make conclusions and no doubt come up with solutions. Green eyes roved from his feet to his head, hovering over his right leg, pausing at the encroaching stain of blood on his shirt and finally meeting his own green-blue ones.

You okay?

Sam stared at his brother. This was Dean from several months ago, his soul intact and unsold. Sam had changed the course of time. The Dean from his present no longer existed because all the memories, all the things they had gone through, had not come to pass. This was his Dean now.

He barely nodded, the motion imperceptible enough to anyone else but Dean.


The unflappable stare he received told him that Dean did not think so. Seven seconds is all it took and then Dean directed his gaze to the detestable thing that had caused them so much pain and sorrow, so many nightmares.

"You," Dean growled, the simple word evoking enough hate to send any sane person scramming.

"Good to see you too, Dean," the demon smirked, yellow eyes flashing with malice.

The demon waved his hand at Bobby. The old man was thrown into the air before he fell to the ground with an 'oomph!', his body lying motionless.

"That's better."

"You bastard! What the hell did you do that for?" Dean yelled.

"Manners, kid," Yellow Eyes chastised.

Dean lost his temper and attacked. His body instantly went rigid and immobile, as if there were invisible ropes curling around him tightly.

"Feisty aren't we, Dean? Just sit tight and wait your turn, boy."

Dean cussed.

"Now, let's get to business," Yellow Eyes drawled, completely unfazed by their animosity. "Well, finish him Sam. Kill Jake."

Sam tossed him a contemptuous look, jaws clenching, fists folding, teeth grinding, scalding anger boiling inside him like a raging volcano. The ache in his leg and chest became a dull throbbing, but the pain in his heart, the bitterness inside, tore its way form the deepest corners of his heart and resurfaced, rekindled. It was the yellow-eyed demon that had denied him a loving mother; it was him who killed his sweet innocent Jess. Now he was commanding him to taint his soul, to tarnish his hands with human blood?


"Don't be shy, boy. Do it," the demon replied, his thin lips curling into a mocking smile.

"I said, no!" Sam countered, a tinge of anger betraying his voice.

"Sorry, Chuckles. When Sammy says 'no' he means it," Dean intervened.

The demon tut-tutted and sighed impatiently. With a flick of his hand, Jake's unconscious body was flung to a nearby broken fence, a jagged wooden pole impaling him, the splintered end of the pole jutting out from his back, blood spilling down in a steady flow. Jake was dead.

"Dammit!" Sam cussed angrily.

"I just did you a favour, Sam," Yellow Eyes sneered, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Well, congratulations, kid. You're the winner of this beauty pageant, the last man standing. All you've gotta do is one little thing and then all of this will be over."

Sam gave him a disgusted look.

"I won't. Whatever you ask, I won't do it," he said fiercely.

The demon waved his hand in a dismissive way, as if he was merely swatting away a persistent bug.

"But you will, Sam. I'll make sure of it."

Dean struggled against the invisible ropes with renewed rage.

"You lay a finger on Sammy and I'll kill you, you yellow-eyed freak!" he spat.

The demon cackled, the sound reverberating around the lifeless trees, the uninhabited houses.

"Dean, you think I don't know you? You're nothing but a self-sacrificing, self-loathing pathetic excuse of a man. You can't purge that guilt you feel Dean, because that's right. Deep down, you know it's your fault that daddy's gone to Hell."

The demon's words hit Dean like a punch in the gut, like a serpent biting and lashing and spitting venom at him. Anger and sadness tugged at Sam's heart-anger for the demon for insulting his brother and sadness for Dean because he knew that this Dean was still grieving the death of their father, still mourning.

"Don't talk to my boys like that, you demonic moron!" Bobby threatened as he got to his feet.

Somehow, he had woken up without getting noticed. Sam felt a swell of pride as he gave the old man an acknowledging look. Dean must have felt it too because he saw a flicker of a smile on his face.


Sam never saw it coming. White hot pain suddenly snaked its way across his brain, tearing its way through his body, scalding his blood vessels like acid corroding metal. A yelp of pain ripped itself from his throat. He clamped his eyes shut, the agony bringing him to his knees, the demon's hollow laughter exacerbating the excruciating pain.


His vision dimmed, darkness creeping upon the edges, mud slipping beneath his calloused fingers.

"It hurts, doesn't it, boy?"

He felt like he was falling, falling down into an abyss of despair…

"You sonuvabitch! Leave Sammy alone."

The yellow-eyed demon's laughter, Dean's cries, the howling wind, turned into a distant echo, a plethora of unrecognizable sound.

"Stop it! Leave my brother alone!"

Slowly, the darkness swallowed him.

Something warm was splattering down his face, something warm and velvety. Sam opened his eyes. Petals of red swooped down on his forehead, little drops of blood trickling down his cheeks, leaving parallel trails of red tears on his face. Sam jerked his head up.


Jess was plastered on the ceiling, her white dress dripping with blood, eyes staring accusingly at Sam…

No… it can't be.

Yellow flames burst forth from her body, heat consuming her, licking away the blood that was still dripping. Sam watched in horror, unable to look away, unable to turn away from Jess. The flames writhed angrily, the fire burning her hair…moving to her face…and then her face transformed into that of his mother…

He blinked, tears brimming in his eyes. It felt real, too real. It was like reliving his worst nightmares. He tried to force his thoughts into believing that it wasn't real, that it was the demon playing with his mind, but he failed. The heat intensified, sweat drenching him, hot air smothering him. The deep wounds began untying themselves, wounds buried deep in his chest, wounds that were barely healed. He killed them… his mum and Jess…he killed them…

The horrific scene changed, like fading ripples on the surface of water. Sam found himself in a dimly lit room, kneeling before a man sprawled on the cold floor. He gasped at the man's jacket torn to shreds, the shirt bloody and tattered, the raw gashes curved on his chest, gashes that had been clawed by Hellhounds…

Oh God! Dean!

It felt real. When his hands clamped on his brother's shoulders, shaking him, begging him to wake up, it felt real. How? How could this happen? How could he fail to save Dean?

He was alone; alone and broken. Broken like shards of glass shattered into minute pieces that could never be repaired. All the people that love him and cared for him ended up dead. His mum…Dean…Jess…even his dad…

Dean didn't know or care how he managed to wrench free from the invisible ropes binding him. In that instant that the broken sobs coming out of Sam reached his ears, he broke free. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam needed him, his brother was in pain and nothing was going to stop him.

Sam was on his hands and knees, palms digging into the muddy ground, unruly hair tumbling into his eyes, body shaking with each sob. Dean dropped to the ground beside him.

"Wake up, Sam," he said, shaking him.

Sam wasn't responding.

"Come on, Sammy. Snap out of it!"

Dean tugged at the sleeves of his shirt.

"Sammy, please snap out of it."

Panic welled up inside him. He slid a hand over Sam's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Listen to me Sam, wake up, man. Please wake up Sammy…"


Sam felt like he was drowning in grief; he was in an endless pitch black tunnel with suffocating walls of grief. There was no light in the tunnel, no end to it. Like a blind man, he stumbled, he groped in the darkness. The walls felt like they were moving, breathing, squeezing him.

"Wake up, Sam."


It sounded so faint, so far away… Maybe it was just a figment of his imagination, his way of coping with his inner turmoil.

"Come on, Sammy. Snap out of it!"

This time it was tenacious. He felt a glimmer of hope. The sound emanated from way ahead of him where there was now a faint glow. He trudged forward, clinging to his brother's voice, his pillar of hope, his steady rock in a stormy ocean.

"…wake up, man. Please wake up, Sammy…"

He wanted to scream 'I'm coming!' but his throat felt dry and constricted. The tunnel seemed to be narrowing, like it was trying to prevent him from reaching the light. In hushed breaths he stumbled ahead, praying that the walls would not collapse on him.

"You wake up right now, dammit!"

Dean's voice sounded urgent, with a pang of panic swirling within. As he neared the glowing light, Dean's voice pulled him, urging him to hurry, the gap between the walls closing…he welcomed the light in a warm embrace…


The sound of gunshot pierced through the air. Bobby was firing rocksalt at the demon, distracting his attention from Sammy and him.

"Come on, Sam. Wake up!"

They didn't have much time. Dean needed to wake Sam up before Yellow Eyes turned back to them. There was a loud hissing sound accompanied by a cry of pain. Bobby was splashing holy water at the demon. That wise old man had geared up for everything: ghosts, demons, crazy humans…

"You wake up right now, dammit!" Dean yelled, his tone wreathed in fear and panic.

He was vaguely aware of Bobby chanting an exorcism when Sam gave a loud strangled gasp. Sam choked for air, the sheer effort making his hands and knees sag, unable to support his weight. Dean helped him to a sitting position, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Take it easy, Sammy."

Sam's breathing evened out, eyelids fluttering open.

"D-Dean?" he stuttered, voice hoarse, eyes glazed with surprise and then recognition.

Relief washed over Dean. He smiled.

"Yeah, it's me bro. Are you okay?"

Sam hesitated then nodded.

"I am now," Sam replied, a weak smile forming on his lips.

Sam was eyeing him as if he couldn't believe that he was really there, as if any minute now he was going to disappear into thin air.

Just what the hell did that yellow-eyed freak do to Sammy? He pondered.




Yellow Eyes clapped mockingly.

"Had fun, champion boy? Did you enjoy those pretty little nightmares?"


The demon followed the line of Dean's gaze. Bobby was immobilized by the same spell that had struck Dean. He stood stiffly, mouth clamped shut.

"Him?" Yellow Eyes gestured, "That pesky ole man won't bother us anymore."

Dean swore loudly.

The demon chuckled.

"How 'bout we go for round two, Sam? Maybe," he pointed at Dean and Bobby, "give these two fools a lil' dose of pain… you know, I've got plenty more-"

Yellow Eyes unexpectedly frowned.

"What the-"

Shock crossed over his face, yellow eyes dilating with astonishment and then the strangest thing happened. The demon writhed in pain, mouth forced open, thick black smoke billowing out before vanishing into the night sky...


The drone of the Impala was soothing. It lulled him to sleep. Dawn was approaching. The sky had lighted up, patches of indigo, red and yellow blending in smoothly, colouring it in a wonderful display. Sam felt his eyes drooping. He was home… Hard as it may be to believe, he had journeyed back through time, escaped from the yellow-eyed demon mostly unscathed and Dean was deal-free.



"Are you okay?"

Dean must be worried about him, probably thinking he was passing out. He could see dark circles under Dean's eyes, he could see worry creasing his haggard-looking face. Hell, Dean must have been worried sick the whole day, looking all over for him, forced to watch him get tortured by Yellow Eyes…

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean nodded, eyes focused on the tail lights of Bobby's car ahead of them.

"So, who sent that sonuvabitch packing?" Dean asked curiously.

"I don't know."

"Bobby swears it wasn't him."


Dean sighed wearily.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, "What's important is that you're okay."

Sam was left speechless. Dean was pretty shaken up too, but he wasn't worried about himself. He was worried about him. He didn't know how to thank him enough, didn't know what to say…

"Get some rest, college boy. Wouldn't want that geeky head of yours bashing into the dashboard."

Sam smiled and then complied.

A/N: So, what do you think? Please let me know;)