Disclaimer: I think you know by now.

Warning: Confusion, once more. Thank God no one's said anything yet, I was hoping it would be okay! Otherwise, there's a few naughty words.

Author's Note: So, this is it people. The last chapter! Loved writing this one, and I love all you wonderful, wonderful people out there who kept me posting with your reviews. I love you all! Here you go, the last one…

Chapter 11: Exorcism

"Sam!" Dean screamed. He couldn't lose his brother, not to a fucking demon of all things.

It worked this time.

Just as the demon reached the door, spirits backing off angrily, a shudder passed through Sam's body. And then it flew backwards with a force like nothing Dean had ever seen. His brother's body flopped to the ground by the wall.

Dean stood, but didn't get far. The demon was far from beaten: the elder hunter smashed back into the wall.

The spirits attacked with renewed energy. Sam's back arched and a scream, the first one, erupted from his mouth. But it was more frustrated than anything.

Another shudder passed through Sam, who, while trying to stand, thumped against the wall hard enough to crack it.

"I will!" the demon suddenly screamed, actually trying to fend off the spirits by swatting them. It was a vain effort. "I've worked too hard for this. At least one of you will die and I will have my revenge!"

And his gaze turned to Dean. The older Winchester stopped, fear actually filling him. And he went crashing into the wall once more, invisible pressure against his throat, crushing all chance of breathing.

Sam heard Dean yell, from his prison inside his mind. It ripped through him, letting him know he was failing his big brother.

"Sammy stop!" But Sam couldn't do anything. He was trying, trying so hard, but it was useless.

"You can't let the bastard win!"

He wasn't letting the demon do anything. I'm trying Dean, I'm trying.

"Sam!"

This time the frustration and fear in his brother's voice created an unbelievable spur and he set his sights on the demon sharing his head.

NO! Sam screamed; it was half a shout of effort. And then suddenly he was back in his own mind. I'm not going anywhere!

His body fell to the floor before he realized he had hit the wall. Before he realized he had made himself hit the wall.

No, you're not getting them! the demon shouted, and on seeing Dean get up, threw the older hunter back into the wall.

I won't let you hurt him, Sam gasped, trying to beat the demon back. He thumped himself into the wall hard once more. You won't get away.

"I will!" The demon shouted it with Sam's mouth, the lack of control a sign of his anger and frustration. And fear. "I've worked too hard for this. At least one of you will die and I will have my revenge!"

Before Sam could stop it, the demon had Dean against the wall, three feet off the ground, choking the life from him.

No! Sam screamed yet again, lunging for the demon. He felt his whole body move, but the demon just danced out of reach in the world the two psychics shared.

Let him go, Sam pleaded, unbelieving that he was doing so. But he backed off as well, at least in his mind, just a little. The spirits were still tearing at him he realized, but their existence was almost inconsequential now. It meant nothing to either Sam or the demon.

He took a few deep breaths. Dean didn't have long. If you want me, come and get me. And he opened himself up completely. Accept it, Dean had said. And Archer. Even the demon had. Accept it.

The demon, caught in glee and triumph, let Dean drop to the floor and, actions completely within Sam's mind, rushed at the Winchester. Sam's body fell backwards to the ground as the two minds collided.

He had lost himself for a bare instant. Completely and almost utterly lost himself, for a few seconds that lasted a lifetime. The demon cackled, invading Sam's all, seizing his mind completely.

Now you both will die, it screeched victoriously.

I don't think so, Sam replied. From here the pain of the two spirits trying desperately to tear the demon away was absolutely nothing. The demon was all, everything, swallowing him completely. But Sam could do the same to it. The demon just hadn't realized that.

I'll kill your brother first, it muttered, enjoying enveloping Sam, filling him; it was disgusting and pervasive. Sam had never felt so wrong in all his life. But he remained open, not fighting, as much as he wanted to. And then your father. Will you enjoy that?

Sam felt his anger and drew it in. It would help.

And then you and I will roam the world, taking death and destruction with us.

Soon, Sam promised himself. Just wait. Not much long. Just endure this little bit more.

But first your brother. It will be long and slow and very, very painful.

For an answer Sam lunged, overturning the demon's confident siege. He seized the being inside his head, and, using its power against it, combined with the ravenous pulling of Archer and O'Conner, flung the demon from his body.

The impact of freedom was shocking, stunning his body like he had known it would. He could feel his heart slowing... Just one... last... thing...

Dean had been preparing to grab his still brother when Sam's back arched impossibly and the two spirits - no, three - flew backwards from the limp form of the youngest Winchester. He watched in amazement as the three - Archer, O'Conner and a vainly struggling demon - flew out the wall to the street below.

"Dean."

He heard his brother's hoarse voice and crawled the rest of the way to him.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean had to force back tears of relief.

"Dean, the body. Burn it, quickly."

Dean half-nodded, torn between killing the evil bitch and staying with his brother. A hand pulled him away.

"Dean, go," Sasha implored. "I'll stay with Sam."

He nodded fully this time, stumbling straight into a run. He was feeling too numb not to comply with his brother's struggling order. He almost fell on the stairs, taking them three at a time. The back door was still open, and he tore around to the front.

A sight met his eyes. It seemed like the whole neighbourhood was out, as well as all the police. Had they been making that much noise?

He shook himself mentally and ran to his car. Brian was there.

"Dean, what's going on? What the hell is that?" Dean had just opened the trunk to reveal the demon's body. A collective murmur ran through the crowd.

"It's the demon," he muttered quietly, hoping only Brian could hear. Someone else had good ears, and laughed.

"Demons don't exist boy." That was Walt, Claire's uncle. Dean didn't turn, just pulled the body from the trunk. A gasp filled the street.

"Tell that to this son of a bitch," he replied angrily. He looked through his tools for the salt and holy water.

"Do you have licences for all -?" Walt began, voice shocked. Dean found the salt and holy water while Brian interrupted the cop.

"Walt, be quiet. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean tossed aside the containers, having poured the contents over the demon's twitching body. He hadn't noticed that before.

"Brian, you can't tell me -." Walt cut off as a whoosh forced the crowd back. The demon began burning quickly. And its spirit began screaming, covering all sounds of the crowd doing likewise.

Dean watched, standing next to Brian; both men had a fierce light in their eyes. One had lost a brother to this creature, and the other almost had. Or so he thought.

A scream filled the air, coming from Archer's house. "Dean!"

It was Sasha. Turning to Brian, Dean told him to keep the body burning until not even ashes remained. Then he ran to the room again.

Sasha was leaning over Sam, holding his hand. Blood ran from his brother's nose and mouth. She turned to him, crying.

"Dean, he's not breathing."

Dean fell to his knees beside Sam, his mind instinctively forcing away panic. He checked for a pulse. Sasha was right.

Taking a deep breath, Dean bent over and began CPR. He did the compressions, counting and talking. "Come on Sammy. Breathe buddy, breath. Don't let that demon win, not now. Breathe."

Sasha was there as he backed off. She breathed once, twice for Sam, letting Dean take his own breaths. Then he restarted almost robotically, still talking, not letting himself feel the panic.

"Don't Sammy. I swear if you die, I will kill you. Don't leave, please don't leave. We still haven't found Dad. Come on!"

Sasha bent over and Dean gasped in unison with her exhales. The panic was rising. Sam still had no pulse. He laced his fingers for a third time.

"Don't you dare fucking do this Sam. Don't you dare. You can't... please!" It was a frustrated plea, almost a scream. He didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs, just leaned back, wiping away what he refused to believe were tears. He wasn't crying. Sam wasn't dead, he couldn't be. People paused at the door as he began compressions again, a little harder this time.

"Come on, kiddo. This isn't your time. You haven't had the kids, the dog, that white picket fence. Don't fucking give up Sam! Come on!"

This time it was a scream, and this time he didn't wipe away the tears. This couldn't be happening. Sammy couldn't be dead. He wasn't, he refused to believe it. How long had he been down? This couldn't be happening.

"No. Don't Sam! You can't leave, not now, not ever. Come. Back!"

On that last word, that last screaming sob, he swung his fist as hard as he could down on Sam's chest. And on impact, his brother gasped and opened his eyes, struggling to sit up. Sasha pushed him back down: Dean felt too weak from relief to do anything. He could feel his hands shaking, the tears burning.

"I'm back," Sam stated disbelievingly. Dean laughed, wiping away tears.

"Yeah, Sammy, your back."

And he hugged his brother for the first time in a long time.

Dawn found them sitting in the town hospital. It wasn't really a hospital, but more of a medical centre. Sam felt exhausted. Everywhere hurt except - funnily enough - his head.

The doctor - Lucy Taylor's son as it turned out - had just finished checking them over, and was leaving with a startled awe-stricken look on his face. Dean was fine, apart from a nasty bruise on his back. Surprisingly Sam was as well, despite being possessed, exorcised, killed and then being brought back to life by his stubborn brother.

Dean was shaking his head. "What?" Sam asked.

"Just thinking. Dad would kill us if he knew about this. A whole town knows the Winchester secret."

Sam chuckled. "I wasn't the one who decided to burn a demon in the middle of a street."

Dean scowled. "Yeah, but you were the one who told me to do it. And I wasn't the one who was possessed and throwing people into walls."

A thought crossed his mind and he growled, punching Sam in the arm. The younger man gave his brother a startled look, rubbing the offended limb.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You, you stupid... If you ever walk knowingly into a possession again, I will smack you so hard."

Sam felt the guilt rise, flushing his face. "It was the only way I knew to get rid of the demon, without it hurting anyone else."

"I don't care. You don't put yourself into danger."

This time it was anger that rose. "It's what we do Dean, like you always say. Not a hunt goes by where we're not in danger."

Dean sighed. "I know. But I don't want to see you die." It was said quiet, and not just because Dean was afraid of a 'chick-flick' moment. Sam cast his eyes down.

"I don't want to see you die either Dean."

Dean was silent for a moment. "This has been the weirdest, scariest three days of my life. I knew there was a reason for hating small towns."

Sam laughed, nodding. That was Dean, lightening an emotional moment any way he could.

Three days later the Impala rolled out of town.

The End.

So, there it is my freaky-deaky readers. Sorry, stole that line from a friend. Hope you loved it, or at least liked it. Not the line, the story. He he, thanks for reading!