So... this is the final chapter... Sadface? Anyway, thanks to everyone who read this story, reviewed it, and everything in between.


Flawed and Perfect

Sam tensed in preparation for the shooting pain that would mark the end of his life, but it didn't come. Instead, he watched the man in the suit tumble to the floor and lay there twitching before finally laying still, the bullet wound surprisingly clean.

"Get back in the house." Jonah ordered through gritted teeth. He shoved Sam into the house, his finger pointing threateningly as he handed his gun to Mark and ordered him to collect the body.

Mark shut the door behind himself, plunging the room into the darkness of the growing night and leaving Sam and Jonah alone.

Jonah pushed Sam in the chest, causing the thirteen year old to stumble into the chair behind him. The man towered above him. "Don't. You. Dare. Do that again."

Sam's eyes widened when Jonah's turned pitch black. "I mean it." He growled.

...

Dean couldn't do it. He couldn't sit here "recuperating" while Sam was being given a new life.

He waited until the hospital was fairly quiet that night before making his escape.

Dean changed into normal clothes and peered around the doorway, whipping back into his room just in time as a nurse walked briskly past.

Dean didn't waste any time, hurrying down the hallway silently and stealthily. It wasn't until he reached the street corner ten minutes later, out of breath and tired, that he realized he had no idea where he was going. The only thing lighting the streets were the lamps lining the roads and the occasional car driving by.

Digging through the pockets of his jeans, he found a few bucks, probably just enough to get a room at a really cheap motel for the night.

He walked the streets on the lookout for a vacancy, lowering his standards every block that passed with no luck. Finally, he settled on a sketchy looking place far away from where he began and paid for the night, settling down on the creaky, hard bed. Wherever Sam was, he'd find him in the morning.

Little did Dean know, as he was sitting there on the rickety and filthy mattress, Sam was on a very similar bed, with one major difference, as he was cruelly handcuffed to the bedpost, his hands splayed out above him.

And little did he know that Sam didn't just have cruel new family members. He had demons.

...

Dean leaned back and dialed the agency's number, flipping the phone book shut.

"Hello, I'm calling for Samuel Winchester's new address." The receptionist seemed to not trust him.

"Yeah, just ask Mr... Smithson." Dean said confidently.

"No, no. Hey! Do you want me to contact your supervisor? 'Cause I'll hit ya with a four dash seventeen."

Dean sighed. "Thank you!" He jotted down the number. "45... 15... Savry Lane... Alright, thanks." He shut his phone off and folded up the sheet of paper, repeating the number in his head. "4515 Savry Lane. 4515 Savry Lane." He muttered.

He caught a bus this time, his money was running out quickly, and he made it within a few blocks of Sam's "place of residence" before he disembarked, unfolding the paper and walking down the sidewalk until he stopped at a lonely stretch of road where, if it wasn't marked Savry Lane, he never would've noticed.

The road turned to dust shortly, blowing in his eyes and mouth and nose, and Dean sighed in relief when he reached 4515. The place looked like a condemned building, and Dean checked the address twice in hopes that this wasn't Sam's home after all, to no avail.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He rang the doorbell, not surprised that it didn't work either. Finally, out of options and worried, he tried the doorknob.

"Hello?" He called nervously. Straight out of a horror movie, like someone was really going to answer. Dean saw the shotgun leaning against the wall an his heart began beating wildly. Picking it up, Dean continued room to room.

"Dean?" The voice was soft and quiet and scared and completely Sam, and it sounded like it came from the closet. "Sammy?"

Dean flung open the door and smiled as his baby brother leapt into his arms, suffocating him in a giant, shaky hug. "They were so mean, Dean. So mean."

"Were?" Dean asked. Sam pointed across the hall. A scruffy man was sprawled out on the ground, a knife sticking gruesomely out of his chest. Beside him was a younger boy around Dean's age, throat slit horribly and bloodily.

"Sam... Did you?"

Sam held up his hands, dried blood caked on his palms. "They were going to hurt me, Dean."

His chin quivered and Dean pulled him back in. "It's okay, Sammy. It'll all be okay."

Sam sniffed and nodded, when he suddenly reeled back and tugged the knife out of Jonah's neck with a sickening sucking sound.

With a scream of triumph Sam wielded his weapon and charged at Dean, who hesitated at the sight of his own brother attacking him.

Dean twisted out of the way as Sam's deadly blow just missed him, returning with a gentle push to the side and stumbled to his feet. Sam grinned maniacally, the knife dripping his surrogate father's blood. His eyes flicked back, and Dean finally got a look at what he was dealing with. "Exorcizamus te!" He yelled. Sam growled and pushed him to the wall, as Dean let our a grunt.

"Omnis immundus spiritus," Sam punched him in the jaw, and Dean returned it with his own hook, causing his brother to fall back.

"Sorry, Sammy." He muttered as he caught his bearings. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversari!" Sam swung at him with the knife, but Dean ducked, running backwards but tripping over one of the bodies. He fell, his back covered in the boy's blood. "Omnis legio..." He groaned, his side splitting in pain. "Omnis conregato... et secta... diabolica..." He groaned, panting.

"Ergo, draco maledicte."

"NO!" Sam snarled. He grabbed the shotgun abandoned a few feet away.

"Ecclesiam! Tuam! Securi tibi facias!" Sam cocked the gun, aiming at Dean's chest with a smug look on hid face.

"Libertate servire, te rogamus," Dean grunted in pain as Sam's finger tightened on the trigger. Instead of pointing at Dean, though, he aimed the muzzle under his own chin. "Fight it! Sam, fight it!" Dean cried desperately. If he finished the exorcism the demon might decide to just off Sam, but it might also be his only chance to save his little brother. Dean decided to risk it.

"Audi nos!" Sam dropped the gun and opened his mouth in a silent scream as the black mass left his body. Sam crumpled to the ground and Dean crawled over, our of breath but smiling.

He held his brother in his arms, fearing it was too late. "Sam? S-s-Sammy?" Sam's eyelids fluttered open and he groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"Dean? 's really you?"

"Yeah," Dean laughed, helping his dizzy brother into a sitting position. "First possession. Congrats, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, a sign he was back to normal, minus the black eyes and bruises and cuts along his body.

"Dean?"

"Anything, Sam."

He held his cast arm out, revealing the large crack down the side. "This cast isn't very effective."

"Yeah, when we get you back to Dad and leave the state we'll getcha looked at."

"What's our excuse?" Sam asked. As much as he said he hated lying, he was pretty good, and seemed to get excited at the prospect.

"You, Uh, fell. While skateboarding."

"Okay," Sam said.

Dean pointed at the bruises from Jonah decorating Sam's face. "You must've really landed on the pavement hard."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah." He decided. "I like Dad's roads more than theirs." He gestured at Jonah and Mark.

"Me too." Dean ruffled Sam's long hair as he stood up, using his hands to help himself.

"Dad's roads are like... a brand new street." Sam muses as Dean helps him to his feet. "At first you're like, 'Why the hell is this street here?' but then one day you're late and you need a shortcut and you're like, 'I'm really glad this road's here.'"

Dean laughed and shook his head. "You must've been hit pretty hard."

Sam shook his head. "No, just hard enough for the questions to go away." Because Sam trusted John a little more than he had a few weeks ago, but it didn't call for Thanksgiving to make him see sense. Oh no, 'cause in the Winchester family, everything's taught differently, even the lessons. Maybe that's why they sink in so well and stay lodged in their heads forever. John used some pretty durable asphalt for his roads.


Fin! Thanks to anyone and everyone that read this story! I appreciate it! Please check out my other current story, Of Brothers and Bloody Messes. (Hurt!Sam, seeing a trend, here?) I had fun writing this story! Thanks guys!