UNDERPASS
Dean was on his phone, leaning against his car. He was fidgeting and upset. Lennon and Simon were in the car, talking to each other.
"Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?" He paused. "I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here." He paused again. "No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone." He phone beeped. "Hang on."
Dean got a call from Sam and answered. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" He paused. "Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? All right, don't move, the twins and I are on our way."
MOTEL
Sam hung up the phone slowly, looking numb. His knuckles were bloody.
Dean and his girls drove to reach Sam, passing a sign that read TWIN LAKES. They arrived at the hotel and parked and got out.
Dean walked frantically down a narrow hallway, checking door numbers until he and the twins reached room 109 and knocked.
"Sam, it's us. Sam!" Dean called.
Lennon tried the door to find it open. Sam was sitting numbly on the bed.
"Sam?" Dean called. "Hey."
"Hey, Dean. Hey, Lennon. Hey, Simon," Sam replied.
Dean knelt beside him. "Are you bleeding?"
"I tried to wash it off."
Dean saw Sam's shirt covered in blood and groped at it, searching for a wound. "Oh my God."
"I don't think it's my blood."
"Whose is it?" Simon questioned. "Did you hurt somebody?"
"I don't know."
"Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked.
Sam finally looked up. "Dean. I don't remember anything."
Dean left the room, leaving his girls with Sam.
Lennon rifled through his bag, pulled out a shirt and handed it to him. "Daddy always says new clothes feel a lot better."
Sam silently took the shirt and smiled at his niece.
Dean returned to the room, carrying a grocery bag.
"What'd you find out?" Sam asked.
"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora," Dean told him. "Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan-"
"Dean."
"Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual."
"You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?"
"Yeah. That's what I mean."
"Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me."
"I don't know. But you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with."
"Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?"
"Sam..."
"What if this is what Dad warned you about?"
"Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?"
Sam sat. "Just me and you three, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and..."
"West Texas? That was, that was over a week ago."
"That's it." Dean looked at him, stunned. "Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."
"Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so-" He pulled back the curtain and found a bloody fingerprint on the window. "Hey."
They walked outside the motel. It was daylight, but raining.
"Recognize anything?" Dean asked.
"Not really," Sam admitted as they went towards a parking garage out back. "Wait."
"What?"
"I think I was here."
"You remember?"
"Not really, it just feels familiar, you know?" Dean shrugged and went to the nearest garage. Sam looked over to the second and pointed. "Try that one. Yeah."
Dean tugged at the padlock. "Okay."
"Wait." Sam dug in his pocket and frowned, pulling out a key and gave his brother a significant look.
Dean opened the padlock with the key and raised his eyebrows at Sam. He pulled the garage door open to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle.
"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this," Dean said, motioning for his girls to stay back. "Lennon, Simon, stay back."
Sam fidgeted. They went into the garage and opened both doors of the car. Sam was on the driver's side.
He touched the wheel and showed Dean his stained finger. "More blood."
Dean pointed. "Sam. Backseat."
Sam reached down and picked up a blood-stained knife that stuck to the floor of the backseat.
He stared at it. "You think I used this on someone?"
Dean paused. "I'm not thinking anything."
Sam looked around and rubbed the knife handle off on the inside of his jacket.
Dean picked up a pack of cigarettes. "Okay now, this is disturbing. Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, someone who," he sniffed the pack, "smokes menthols."
"Here," Sam said. "Gas receipt. Few towns over."
They made their way to the gas station and the twins stayed in the car.
Dean glanced at the receipt. "All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, déja vú vibes?" Sam shook his head quietly. "Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on."
They went into the convenience store. The clerk looked up in shock, then anger.
"You," the clerk said. "Outta here now, I'm calling the cops."
"You talking to him?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it."
"This guy? You're drinking malt liquor?"
"Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head."
"This guy?"
"What, am I speaking Urdu?"
"Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything," Sam apologized.
"Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five."
"Wait, wait, put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car," Dean said.
"But Dean-"
"Go wait in the car!" Sam sighed and left. "Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay?" The clerk hung up. "Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go?"
"Why don't you ask him?" the clerk shot back.
"'Cause I'm asking you. Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor."
"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."
"You saw him smoking?"
"Yeah. Guy's a chimney."
Dean cleared his throat and pulled his wallet out, placing some bills on the desk. "This oughta cover it."
"Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now. He took two packs."
He rolled his eyes and pulled out more money. "Of course he did."
"He went north. Route 71, straight out of town."
Dean nodded and grabbed several candy bars and left with a smirk.
ROAD
Dean was driving down a dark road and Sam was staring out the window. The twins were asleep in the back.
"What's going on with you, Sam?" Dean asked. "Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me that you."
"Dean, wait, right here," Sam said. "Turn down that road."
"What?"
"I don't know how I know. I just do."
Dean turned down a back road and onto a private property. It was a large house with plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras outside.
"Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises," Sam guessed.
"Should we knock?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Dean knocked on the front door while Sam poked around the corner.
"Hey Dean," Sam called.
Sam waved his flashlight at a window. It was broken and the ledge was covered in shattered glass.
"I'm surprised the cops didn't show," Dean said. "Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm."
Sam found a disabled alarm on the wall. "Yeah, you would."
They entered the house. The floor was covered in broken glass and scattered items. In a back room, they came across a body on the floor.
"Get the lights," Dean instructed.
Sam turned the lights on as Dean knelt beside the body. Dean placed a hand on it and turned it over; it was a middle-aged man with a deeply cut throat; he was dead, his eyes staring. Dean pulled a hand over his own mouth and Sam looked horrified.
"Dean, I did this," Sam said.
"We don't know that," Dean replied.
"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood-"
"I don't know, man, why don't you tell us?" He paused a beat. "Look, even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a good reason; you know, self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something." He patted down the body. "He doesn't have any ID."
"I need your lock-pick."
"What?"
"I need a lock-pick."
Sam took the lock-pick and opened a double door closet in the room. Inside the room, one wall was covered with firearms, the others in charts and clippings.
"Either this guy's a Unabomber-"
"Or a hunter. Dean, I think I killed a hunter."
Dean noticed a security camera near the ceiling. "Let's find out."
Sam sat in front of the desktop computer, Dean standing behind. He cued up the security tape.
"Here we go," Dean stated.
On the tape, Sam was fighting the same man who laid dead on the floor behind them. The fight moved off camera and Sam dragged the man back into the frame. He knelt and the man pulled up against his legs, and slit his throat. Sam stared in shock as Dean pulled back from the screen and stood straight. Sam looked down.
Sam, still sitting at the computer desk, stared at a page in his hand. Dean bustled around behind him, cleaning up.
"How do you erase this? Huh?" Dean asked. "Sam, come on, I need your help."
"I killed him, Dean," Sam said. "I just broke in and killed him."
Dean met Sam's eyes and said pointedly, "Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are gonna come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?"
"His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter."
Dean looked to Sam to the letter, then made a decision. He grabbed the CPU, lifted it above his head, and smashed it to the floor, stomping it with his boots for good measure.
"Wipe your prints, then we go," Dean said.
MOTEL ROOM
Sam preceded Dean, holding a sleeping Lennon, followed by a sleepy Simon, into the motel room and said, "All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know this is bad, okay? You've gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!"
Simon curled up on one of the beds, falling asleep again, and Dean laid a still sleeping Lennon next to him.
"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?" Sam repeated. "Murder, Dean. That's what I did."
"Maybe." Sam scoffed. "Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter!"
"Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion-"
"Yeah, but it wasn't you! All right? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you."
"Well, I think it was." He sat on the bed. "I think maybe more than you two know."
"What does that mean?"
"For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings."
"What feelings?"
"Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day it gets worse."
"You never told me this."
"I didn't want to scare you or the twins."
"Well, bang-up job on that."
"Dean, the Yellow-Eyed Demon, you know he has plans for me. And we all know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."
"No one can control you but you."
"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming..."
"What?"
"Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am."
"I didn't mean this!"
"But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too, that's why he told you, if it ever came to this..."
"Shut up, Sam."
"Dean, you promised him. You promised me."
"No. Listen to me. We're going to figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's got to be a way, right?"
"Yeah, there is." He took a handgun from his duffel and shoved it at Dean. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you or the twins."
"You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it."
Sam began tearing up. "No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it."
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Sam grabbed Dean's right hand and placed the gun in it. Dean didn't move, just stared at Sam in shock.
Sam nodded. "I know."
"I can't. I'd rather die." He dropped the gun on the bed and shouldered past Sam.
Sam looked at him. "No. You'll live." He picked up the gun as Dean turned to face him. "You'll live to regret this." He pistol-whipped Dean, who fell to the floor unconscious.
---
There was an insistent knocking. Dean awoke to realize that he was on the floor of the motel room. His twins were shaking him.
The hotel manager, who'd been knocking, opened the door. "Hey. It's past your checkout."
Dean got up groggily. "What?"
"It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room."
Dean, seeing an embarrassed businessman with a hooker, said, "Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?"
"12:30."
"The guy who was with us, have you seen him?"
"Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you three should have gone with him, because now I'm going to have to charge you extra."
"Oh, son of a..."
"It's just policy, sir."
"I need to use your computer."
"Now, why would I let you use my computer?"
"Please?"
The manager sighed. "Fine."
MOTEL LOBBY
The manager was counting a stack of cash as Dean talked on the phone behind him, in front of a desktop computer, Miriam and Margaret next to him.
"Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my son snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert," Dean said and paused. "What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, he's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry." He paused again. "Right. Yeah, boys will be boys. But see, Sammy is a diabetic, and uh, if he doesn't get his insulin, I just, I have to find him. Please, I'm begging you. Yeah, no, no, no, I'm on the website right now, I just need to activate the GDS in his cell phone." He entered a password. "Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help."
JO'S BAR
Jo was scrubbing the bar and saying goodnight to some customers. "Goodnight, thank you."
Sam entered and cleared his throat.
Jo, with her back to him, said, "Sorry, we're closing up."
"How about just one for the road?" Sam asked.
Jo turned to face him. "Well, you're about the last person I'd expect to see."
"Well, I guess I'm full of surprises. So can I get a beer?"
"Sure. One beer."
Jo brought a bottle of beer and set it down on the bar firmly, then turned away, bustling over cleaning up the bar. "So how'd you find us?"
"Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?"
"Speaking of 'we', where's Dean and the twins?"
"Couldn't make it."
"So what are you doing here, Sam? I mean, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms."
"Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here. I kind of, I wanted to see if we could square things, you know?"
As Sam took off his jacket, Jo noticed a circular burn mark with a short one through it on Sam's forearm.
"That looks like it hurts," Jo noted.
"No," Sam said. "No, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove."
"So you were saying something about squaring things?"
"Yeah. Um. Look. I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed, consumed with hunting; and he didn't care who got caught in the crossfire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father, that's not me."
"What about Dean?" Lexi questioned.
"Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, but..." He noted Jo's look. "Boy. You're really carrying the torch for him, aren't you?" Jo scoffed uncomfortably. "I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad. 'Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as a kind of a... little sister, you know? But romance -- that's just out of the question, he," Sam laughed, "he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know? He likes your someone else so much more." He paused. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo, I, I'm telling you because I care."
"Well, that's real kind of you, Sam," Jo said.
"I mean it." He placed a hand over hers on the bar, possessively. "I care about you a lot."
"Sam, what's going on?"
"I can be more to you, Jo."
"Maybe you should leave."
"Okay."
He shoved her hand away and stood to leave. She turned to face the bar, leaning on it heavily. Suddenly, Sam reappeared, grabbing her from behind and manhandling her.
"Sam, get off me! Sam, get off me! Sam!" Jo cried.
She closed her right hand on a beer bottle, but before she could hit him with it, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it onto the bar, shattering the bottle.
"Jo, Jo, Jo," Sam said.
He shoved her around until she faced the bar and pinned her there, left hand over her wrist, right hand stroking her hair.
"Sam, no, no!" Jo begged. "Please! Please!"
He slammed her forehead into the bar, knocking her out and lifted her carefully to lie on the bar, stroking her hair in a disturbingly gentle manner. "It didn't have to be this way. Or maybe it did."
A clunky record player switched on and started playing The Crystal Ship by The Doors. Sam was nearby, tying Jo in a sitting position to a wide wooden post.
Jo slowly woke up. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing?"
"So what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?" Sam questioned.
"You're not Sam."
"Don't be so sure about that. Answer the question."
Jo said nothing. Sam sighed heavily and went around to the other side he sat in front of her, leaning in, and his expression shifted to one of open concern.
He pulled out a large knife and stroked her face with it. "Come on. It's me. You can tell me anything, you know that. Answer. The question."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Our dads were in California. Devil's Gate Reservoir. They were setting a trap for some kind of Hell spawn. John was hiding, waiting, and my dad was bait."
Sam laughed. "That's just like John. Oh, I'll bet he dangled Bill like meat on a hook. Then what?" He got up and went around to stand behind her.
"The thing showed up. John got too eager, jumped out too soon, got my dad exposed out in the open. The thing turned around and killed him."
Sam leaned in. "Not quite."
"What?"
"What? Oh. See, it hurt him. It didn't kill him. You really don't know the truth, do you? I'll bet your mom doesn't either." Sam faced her again, leaning in close.
"Know what?"
"You see, Bill was all clawed up. Holding his insides in his hands. He was hurling and praying to see you and Ellen one more time. So my dad... killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog."
"You're lying."
"I'm not, it's true." He singsonged quietly, "My daddy shot your daddy in the head..."
"How could you know that?"
"I hear things." He stood and stabbed the knife into the pillar, just above head level.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Like daddy like daughter. You're bait. Open up." He shoved a knotted rag in her mouth and tied it around her neck. "That's a girl."
The door burst open and Dean entered, gun out. He'd kept his twins in the car.
"Sam!" Dean called.
Sam grabbed the knife from the pillar, his calm expression shifting to one of desperate panic, and placed the knives at Jo's throat. "I begged you to stop me, Dean."
"Put the knives down, damn it," Dean said.
"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'll be doing me a favor! Shoot me!" He turned to face Dean, arms spread. "Shoot me!"
"No, Sammy, come on." He turned away, lowering his gun.
"What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you two that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo and Lexi die?"
Dean suddenly turned and flung water from a flask at Sam. The water hissed and steamed as it struck him.
"That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.
Sam raised his head. His eyes were solid black; a demon. Dean flung more holy water at him. Sam growled before turning and running, bursting through a window and fleeing. Dean took the knife and cut Jo free; she pulled the gag from her mouth as Dean ran towards the shattered window.
"He was possessed?!" Jo cried.
Dean turned and stared at them for a moment, then leapt through the window.
"Dean!"
WAREHOUSE
Dean and Possessed-Sam stalked each other through a dim, crowded warehouse, each with a handgun. They hide behind boxes and shouted at each other.
"So who are you?" Dean asked.
"I got lots of names," Possessed-Sam replied.
"You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?"
"You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."
"Why didn't you kill me? You had a dozen chances."
"No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you have enough to waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sac. Anyway. Fun's over now."
"Well, I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that."
"How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door."
Possessed-Sam led Dean outside to an open-air dock. Once he was out in the open, looking around, Possessed-Sam stepped out, took aim, and shot Dean, shooting him in the shoulder. Dean collapsed into the water with a splash. Possessed-Sam stalked to the edge and peered over where Dean fell and smiled.
Jo walked quickly through the docks, a flashlight in one hand and her phone in the other.
"This is Dean. Leave a message."
Lexi hung up the phone with a sigh and she and Jo continued searching. Moments later, Lexi called again, and heard Dean's ringtone coming from below them, by the water. She and Jo ran down to where he was lying unconscious at the bottom of a ramp.
"Dean! Dean!" Jo called as he awoke with a groan. "Take it easy."
Dean shuddered and groaned in pain. "Where's Sam?"
"I don't know, I've been looking for you. Come on, get up. Hang on."
Jo helped him stand. He leaned on her heavily, clutching his shoulder, as they walked back to the bar.
Dean was seated at a table, gripping the edge with his right hand as Jo dug the bullet from his left shoulder. He was groaning loudly.
"Don't be a baby!" Jo retorted.
"God!" Dean yelled.
"Almost. All right, got it. Got it." She dropped the bloodstained bullet in a glass of clear alcohol.
Dean took a few swigs from a bottle of whiskey. "God, you're a butcher."
"You're welcome," Jo replied sarcastically.
"All right, are we done?"
"Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death." She continued layering gauze and tape over the wound. "So, how did you know? That he was possessed?"
"Uh, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him."
"Hey, Dean."
"Yeah?"
"I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth too?"
"Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?"
"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so... closest I know lives in South Dakota."
"Okay good, I'm done. Let's go."
"Yeah. You're not coming."
"The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."
"I can't say it more plain that this. You try to follow me, I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is my fight. I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be."
"Wait," Jo said as Dean turned back and she handed out a prescription pill bottle. "Here. Take these, they'll help with the pain."
"Thanks. I'll call you later, okay?"
Dean left.
Jo spoke to herself after Dean was gone. "No you won't."
ROAD
It was raining as Dean, Lennon and Simon drove down a dark stretch of road. Dean dialed a number on his cell.
---
Elsewhere, a phone rang several times, and Possessed-Sam cut the phone line running outside the house.
---
Dean looked at his phone and sighed. "Damn it."
HOUSE
Possessed-Sam walked slowly up the steps to the house and knocked on the door. It was opened, revealing Bobby.
"Sam!" Bobby greeted with a grin.
"Hey, Bobby," Possessed-Sam replied.
"It's been awhile," Bobby said, as Possessed-Sam grinned sheepishly. "Well, come on in."
Possessed-Sam entered slowly, glancing at the ceiling, and Bobby shut the door behind him. They walked together into Bobby's study, which was dimly lit and covered wall to wall with stacks of books and papers.
"So what brings you?" Bobby asked.
"Working a job nearby, and I thought I'd stop in and say hey," Possessed-Sam answered.
"Where's Dean and his girls?"
Possessed-Sam laughed. "Holed up somewhere with a girl and a 12-pack. The twins have a babysitter.."
Bobby went into the back room where Persie was. Possessed-Sam eyed the ceiling again.
Bobby asked, "Oh yeah? She pretty?"
Possessed-Sam's eyes clouded over black a moment. "You ask me, he's in way over his head."
Bobby returned with three beers, two in one hand, and handed one to Possessed-Sam. "Well, it's good to see you." He raised his bottle. "To John."
"To Dad."
They toasted and swigged the beer. Possessed-Sam turned to look up at the ceiling again. As he swallowed the beer, he choked suddenly. Possessed-Sam fell to his hands and knees and hiss-coughed painfully. Bobby sipped his beer, unconcerned.
"What'd you do?!" Possessed-Sam cried.
"A little holy water in the beer," Bobby told him. "Sam never would have noticed. But then, you're not Sam are you. Don't try to con a con man."
He slammed his fist into Possessed-Sam's face, knocking him out.
Later, Possessed-Sam was tied to a chair, before a fire and under a Devil's Trap.
Dean smacked him in the face to wake him. "Hey."
Persie was in another room with the twins, doing her best to reassure them.
Possessed-Sam looked up and saw the painted Devil's Trap. "Dean. Back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Possessed-Sam. "How about I smack that smart-ass right out of your mouth?"
"Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging."
"Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much." He turned to pick up a bucket. "You, on the other hand-"
Dean tossed a bucketful of holy water on Possessed-Sam, who sizzled and screamed.
"Feel like talking now?"
"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue," Possessed-Sam warned.
"No, you won't be in him long enough," Dean said. "Bobby."
Bobby began reading in Latin. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio..." he continued.
Dean spoke over Bobby. "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? Because I'm gonna kill every one of you first."
Possessed-Sam struggled painfully, then there back his head and cackled. Bobby cut off in surprise.
"You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan."
Bobby continued. "Humiliares sub potent magnu dei..."
"Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks." He lowered his head and began growling Latin. "Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine..."
The fire behind him flared and the room shook as he continued.
"This isn't going like we pictured! What's going on, Bobby?"
Bobby noticed the burn mark on Sam's forearm. "It's a binding link! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"
"What the hell do we do?"
"I don't know!"
Possessed-Sam threw his head back and screamed; the walls began shaking and the ceilings began to crack, breaking the protective circle. Possessed-Sam's eyes were black as he lowered his head.
"There. That's better," Possessed-Sam said.
He jerked his head to the left and Bobby went flying. He jerked his head to the right and Dean went flying, landing heavily against the far wall. The flask of holy water fell from Dean's hand.
Possessed-Sam ripped free from the restraints and stalked over to Dean. "You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing? They say it's like Hell."
Possessed-Sam knelt in front of Dean, fisting his left hand in Dean's shirt and clocking him with a right jab. Dean grabbed onto Sam's shirt with his right hand.
"You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um," he hit Dean again, "well, it's like Hell. Even for demons." He hit Dean again. Dean was groggy and bleeding heavily from his nose. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear;" He hit Dean, then grabbed his head, holding him steady. "And you sent me back there."
"Meg," Dean sneered.
"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam." He hit Dean one last time, then dug his left thumb into Dean's bullet wound. "By the way I saw your dad there -- he says "howdy"." He dug in further. Dean tried to pull Sam's hand away, groaning in pain. "All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you two, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect." He shoved Dean's grasping hands away. "But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your dad, and deep down you know that you can't save your brother. He'd have been better off without you."
Possessed-Sam reared back to hit Dean but suddenly, Bobby was there and grabbed Sam's arm. Bobby pressed a hot poker into the mark on Possessed-Sam's arm. He screamed in pain, then again as black demon smoke billowed out of him and up the chimney. Sam fell back, scrabbling and looking around in confusion, then grabbed his arm in sudden pain. Dean pulled himself up in pain.
"Sammy?" Dean called.
"Did I miss anything?" Sam asked.
Dean reared back and right-hooked Sam in the cheek, then rolled his eyes and collapsed. Sam grabbed his cheek in confusion.
Sam was sitting behind Bobby's table with an icepack on his arm. Dean was on the other side of the table groggily holding an ice-bag to his face. Lexi and the girls stood behind him.
"By the way, you really look like crap, Dean," Sam said cautiously.
"Yeah, right back atcha," Dean shot back.
Bobby walked in slowly, looking concerned.
"What is it, Bobby?" Sam and Persie asked.
"You boys ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?" Bobby questioned.
"Why do you ask?" Persie inquired.
"Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that."
"No sir, never heard of the guy," Dean lied, ignoring the frown from Lexi.
"Dean," Sam said.
"Good," Bobby replied. "Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?"
"We'd better hit the road," Dean decided. "If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car."
Bobby held up several metal charms. "Here. Take these." He handed each of the three a small metal charm. He put a long charm necklace over both girls' heads.
"What are they?" Sam wondered.
"Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there; this'll stop it from getting back up in you."
"That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks," Dean said.
"You're welcome. You boys and girls be careful now."
"You too," Sam and Persie answered.
Lennon and Simon waved. "Bye, Bobby."
Bobby smiled. "Bye, you two."
At the door, Dean tossed the ice-bag back to Bobby.
ROAD
Dean was driving down a dark stretch of highway as Back on the Road Again by REO Speedwagon played. Sam was frowning quietly and Dean glanced over, concerned.
"You okay?" Dean asked. "Sam? Is that you in there?"
"I was awake for some of it, Dean, Persie," Sam replied. "I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes."
"That must have been awful," Persie commented.
"That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot."
"It was the right move, Sam, it wasn't you," Dean told him.
"Yeah, this time. What about next time?"
"Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to save you."
Sam glanced at his brother, hearing him laughing softly. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Dean, what?"
"Dude, you -- you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week."
Sam's frown cracked and he laughed with his brother.
"That's pretty naughty."
Persie rolled her eyes and fought a smile. "Dean, your twins are in back."
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. "They're asleep. I'm glad Meg didn't get you."
Persie gave a small smile. "Thanks. I am too."
They drove on.