Title: Long Road to Ruin
Author: Moonshayde
Season: Three
Category: Gen, A/A, Drama, Angst
Spoilers: Major series plot points
Summary: When Sam suspects Dean has been possessed by a Great Marquis of Hell, he must decide whether to cross the line to save him. Takes place before A Very Supernatural Christmas.
Word Count: 18,766
Rating: Teen

 

A/N: Credit for the Latin goes to the Supernatural Wiki. Thanks to MegTDJ for the beta.

 

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke and co. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This is for entertainment purposes only; no financial profit has been gained from this story. This story is not mean to infringe upon the rights of the above-mentioned establishments.

 

Out of all the monsters they'd hunted over the years, Sam never had expected this. He set his jaw and leveled the Colt at Dean's head.

 

"Sam!"

 

He felt a flicker of hesitation as he saw the fear swell in Dean's eyes. The fear was real. The fear was deep. Only Sam couldn't be sure if the fear belonged to Dean or something else.

 

"Sam." Dean's voice was urgent but firm. "Whatever you've been told, it's a lie." He struggled against the rope that bound him to the motel room's chair. "It's all a lie."

 

Sam stared at him. Maybe once he would have pleaded with the demon to let him go. Maybe once he would have reasoned with the spirit to move on. But those days were gone.

 

Everything else had failed. Sam knew he had only two options left: the Colt or…

 

Sam swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do.

 

Two Weeks Earlier

 

"I said, can't we just drop it?"

 

Sam leaned back in the passenger seat of the Impala. "I'm just saying maybe you need to get your eyes checked."

 

"My eyes are fine."

 

"Dean, you attacked a midget at a toy fair."

 

"He fit the description."

 

"They all fit the description," Sam said. "It was a Christmas toy fair. Who do you think they pick to play elves?"

 

Dean shrugged his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. After we left the flax seed, the real goblin left town." The car slowed, and Dean turned into a gas station off the side of the road. "I'm going to fill her up and get something to eat. You want something?"

 

Sam laughed, but shook his head. "You're changing the subject."

 

"I'm getting snacks."

 

"I think someone's embarrassed he made the kids cry."

 

Dean opened the car door, stepped out, and glared at Sam through the window. "You know, deep down, you were crying along with the rest of them." He flashed a mischievous grin before he tapped the side of the car. "Now, get ready to pump the gas while I go pay."

 

Sam just shook his head again and waved Dean away. While their last hunt had been less than ideal, at least it hadn't been mortally dangerous. At its worst the hunt had been annoying. Sam would take hunting troublesome goblins over demons any day, especially with the months falling away.

 

He refused to think about Dean's deal right now. With a sigh, he opened the passenger door and started for the pump, awaiting Dean's signal. When he glanced up, he saw Dean give him a thumbs up sign from inside the convenience store. Sam waved back and started pumping gas.

 

After he was finished, Sam leaned back against the Impala and gazed into the large windows of the store. From where he was standing, he could see Dean eyeing the racks in the food aisle, the bored clerk flipping through a magazine at the counter, and another customer buying a coffee and a donut.

 

Coffee and donuts didn't sound like a bad idea. He was surprised Dean hadn't jumped all over it.

 

Decidedly hungry, Sam pushed off the car and walked toward the store. Once inside, he bypassed the clerk and entered the food aisle.

 

Dean was still standing there, staring at the rack that covered everything from Twinkies to salsa to candy bars. Sam reached over and grabbed a Snickers bar. Somewhere, he found the strength to fight the urge to throw it at Dean's head, and instead gently placed the candy bar back on the rack. But his brother's sudden attack of indecisiveness was getting on his nerves.

 

"Do you plan on making a choice any time this century?" Sam asked with a smile.

 

Dean didn't say a word. No insult. No jab. Not even a glare, mocking or otherwise. The smile vanished from Sam's face and he leaned closer.

 

Dean stared ahead, his face void of any emotion. His body was so tense that Sam could have easily mistaken him for a wax figure if he hadn't known better. The only sign of life came from an involuntary twitch from his right eyebrow, and the fact his cell phone was glued to his ear.

 

"Hey." Sam grabbed onto Dean's shoulder and squeezed it. When that didn't work, Sam lightly shook him, hoping that would snap him out of his stupor. Finally, Dean blinked, though his eyes rolled once or twice, as if he was struggling to break from a deep slumber.

 

Sam frowned. "You okay?"

 

"Uh, yeah." He turned around, his face knotted with confusion, before he turned back to Sam. "Yeah, I'm good."

 

"What were you doing?"

 

"Just checking my messages." He glanced over at his cell phone and snapped it shut. "What are you doing here?"

 

Now it was Sam's turns to stare. "I was waiting for you."

 

Dean took another quick scan of the store, prompting Sam to believe he had no clue what was going on.

 

"Dean, you sure you're all right?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't eaten all day." Dean grabbed a couple of candy bars and a bag of chips.  "Let's go."

 

That was it. Dean threw some change on the counter and walked out, expecting Sam to just take his word. Sam was tired of it. He was tired of having to go through this song and dance every day, everywhere, about everything. Even now, Dean considered himself the final authority on everything.

 

"You know, maybe I should drive," Sam suggested. He quickly closed the gap to meet Dean by the car. "If your blood sugar—"

 

Dean gave him a large caramel covered toothy grin. "Got it covered."

 

With a heavy sigh, Sam swung the passenger door open and plopped himself down into the seat.  He wasn't going to argue about nonsense right now. He decided he'd ask Dean about it again later. But at least for now, they had another case to work on.

 

Sam reached into his pocket and withdrew a small notebook. "Creekside, Kentucky. Locals report moving chairs, levitating beds, and various slamming doors."

 

"Poltergeist?"

 

"That would be my first guess. Though, it's not just one house, but also multiple hauntings on the same street. This could be more than just a poltergeist we're talking about. Bobby gave us some notes from a friend of his and said he'd be happy to contact him for us if we need anything."

 

"Then let his buddy take care of that one." Dean started the car. "I got something better."

 

Sam lowered the notebook. "Better?"

 

Dean grinned. "Oh yeah."

 

Harmony, Pennsylvania

 

Obviously, Sam's definition of better differed greatly from Dean's. He stared at the screen of his laptop, and for the third time that night, he tried to make sense of the information that was in front of him.

 

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked. "This is a joke."

 

Dean glanced up long enough from cleaning his gun to a flash him a grin. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable.

 

Sam sighed. "Dean, this is serious."

 

"I know it's serious. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious."

 

Sam clenched his teeth and bit back the rebuke that had formed at the edge of his lips. His attention darted back to the computer. There was no way they had the tools to fight this thing. He didn't even know where to begin.

 

"Hey," Dean said, glancing up at him. "Don't get like that. I know what I'm doing."

 

Sam laughed. "You do?"

 

"Of course I do."

 

"That's a load of crap." Sam pointed his finger at the computer screen. "Andras? What the hell were you thinking?"

 

"I figured, hey, Seven Deadly Sins…Marquis of Hell. No sweat."

 

"Dean, this isn't funny."

 

"Sam, I know it's not funny." Dean tossed the gun on the table and glared at him. "But for the past few months, we've been picking at this and that, and not getting anywhere. We've got to hit 'em where it counts."

 

"I thought you were tired."

 

"I am. But I'm sure as hell not going to sit around and let those sons of bitches take over. If I can take out a few big guns along the way, I'm gonna do it."

 

Sam shook his head. "I know what this is about. This is about you. This is about your guilt. And this is about your being afraid you won't leave any kind of legacy behind you."

 

Dean glared at him, a brief wave of coldness washing over his eyes before the levity returned. "I am legend, Sammy."

 

Sam rolled his eyes. Sometimes he didn't know why he tried.

 

"Fine," he said. "So how are we going to kill one of the marquises of Hell?"

 

Dean held up their father's journal. "I did some research."

 

"Since when?"

 

He frowned. "Since forever."

 

"Dean, your idea of research entails stealing numbers off public restrooms."

 

"Ah, Sandra." He reveled in the moment with a goofy grin before he grabbed a chair and pulled it aside Sam. "You'd be surprised what you can learn in a bathroom stall."

 

"I think I'll pass," Sam muttered. He nudged his chin at the book in Dean's hands. "What did you find?"

 

"Notes." He started to flip through the small book. "I saw something in Dad's journal about the Key of Solomon."

 

"The book Bobby gave us?"

 

"Yeah, but I'm not talking Devil Traps or your regular run of the mill protective circles. This sounded heavy duty." Dean flipped another page and paused. "Found it. Lesser Key of Solomon. It's a companion book."

 

Sam leaned back in his chair and thought about the name. After Bobby had given them the Key of Solomon, he'd done a little research on the grimoire and recalled finding a couple of other books that connected with the Key. Only as far as he could remember, they were associated with darker arts, and therefore, he'd passed on reading further. With their father's death and the craziness that happened right after, he'd never really given it much though. Now he thought maybe he should have.

 

"Dean, you and I both know that most of the grimoires on demons out there were born out of medieval lore. Half of the information is wrong, and the other half is made up."

 

"Dad didn't think so." Dean stopped and tapped the notebook. "Here. Dad lists them all."

 

Sam took the journal from Dean and eyed the list. All seventy-two demons were scribbled in their father's handwriting along with little notes jammed into the margins. Some of the names were lightly inked, while others had asterisks and were underlined in heavy black.

 

Andras was one of those names.

 

"Dad must have thought this was important," Sam said. He frowned and turned the page. "I wonder why he never mentioned it before."

 

"We're always finding new stuff in that book. Plus, the pages were stuck together."

 

Sam raised his eyebrows and immediately investigated the corner by running his fingers over the edge. Dean was right. Two of the pages had stuck together. No wonder they had never come across this before.

 

Still, something felt off. Sam didn't need the journal to remind him that Andras was an important and impressive figure in demon lore. He knew the name. Dean knew the name. They both knew it was associated with evils that rarely made it out of Hell. But there was more. Something else had to have struck Dean to pique his interest.

 

"So, we know that Dad thought Andras was an important demon." Sam pointed to the computer. "We know that. That doesn't mean it's here."

 

"Oh, it's here."

 

"And how do you know the demon is here?"

 

Dean's face brightened with a knowing grin. "Call it a hunch."

 

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

 

"Let's just say I got a tip that Andras would be coming back to Harmony." He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of newspaper. After he unfolded it a few times, he placed the copy on the table. "Looks like one of the descendants of the conjurer who bound him and sent him back to Hell moved back to town."

 

Sam looked down at the newspaper. The picture showed the photo of a young couple with a small child standing in front of a new herbal shop. He glanced up at Dean. "Revenge?"

 

Dean waggled his eyebrows. "Feel like going shopping?"

 

 

*     *     *     *

 

 

"Well, at least it's colorful," Sam offered.

 

The shop was brightly decorated on the outside, with wind charms and dreamcatchers dangling around the doorway. The place reminded Sam of one of those really silly New Age shops they'd encountered on the West Coast.

 

"No real practitioner in their right mind would sell this junk," Dean muttered. "These people are screwed if this demon is coming for revenge."

 

"We should try to warn them somehow," Sam said.

 

"Yeah. This ought to be fun." He opened the door and rolled his eyes as the lights flickered and the sound of Celtic music filled the air. "After you."

 

The moment Sam walked through the door to the shop he was blasted with the scent of oregano. He sniffed, covered his nose, and glanced over to Dean. "Kind of strong."

 

"No kidding." Dean wrinkled his nose. "It's like an Italian restaurant in here."

 

"Oregano has a long history in medicinal purposes." A young woman emerged from the back storeroom and gave them a gentle smile. "Plus, it's great in pasta sauce." She stepped behind the counter. "I'm Jen. May I help you with something?"

 

"You've got quite the collection here," Dean said.

 

"Well, it is an herbal shop." Jen arched her eyebrows and pointed to the sign that read Herbal Essentials.

 

Sam couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Of course, a little rebuke never stopped Dean before.

 

"You see, my brother here – he loves this stuff. Herbs. Crystals. The works." Dean grinned. "We were in town and he had to stop by. He especially loves," Dean waved his arm and motioned to the pastel colored gemstones that lined the top of the shop, "the pink ones."

 

Sam shot him a cold look. "He's embarrassed. He couldn't wait for your shop to open."

 

Dean didn't bat an eyelash. "My brother's too modest. He's been talking about this place since we came to town."

 

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," she told them. "Many young men are interested in natural remedies today." Before either of them could say anything, she rounded the counter and started toward a bookcase filled with small bottles. "Even for something like dandruff." She held out a bottle to Dean.

 

Sam grinned as Dean's smirk was wiped clean off his face. He frowned at the bottle, and then eyed his shoulder, brushing it off a couple of times. While Dean preoccupied himself, Sam approached the shopkeeper.

 

"We're actually looking for something a little different," he said quietly.

 

"Different?" She stepped away from the bookcase. "How different?"

 

"Maybe something for protection."

 

"Protection from sickness or –"

 

"Demons." Dean strolled over to meet them. "Big nasty ones."

 

Jen stared at the two of them, and the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she was trying to hold back a smile. "Demons."

 

"That's right," Dean said. "You've got to have something here."

 

Jen started to laugh, but when Sam and Dean remained motionless, a small frown touched her lips. "You're serious."

 

"Fraid so."

 

She crossed her arms. "All right. Who are you?"

 

Sam and Dean exchanged an uneasy look. "We're reporters," Sam said at last.

 

Jen rolled her eyes and walked away. After she slipped behind the counter, she pointed to the door. She was about to speak, but Sam beat her to it.

 

"No, not that kind of reporter. We work with The Occult Times." He motioned to Dean who produced the newspaper article that they'd examined back in the motel room. Sam waved the article in front of her. "We heard that one of the descendents of Jacques Beauregard had moved back to town, and we wanted to write up a story on the continuing legacy of protection the family has offered."

 

"I'm not really interested in an interview."

 

Sam pocketed the article. "So, you're –"

 

"I'm his great-great granddaughter, yes.

 

"Come on. How 'bout just a few questions?" Dean flashed her his pearly whites.

 

Jen sighed. "Will it make you go away?"

 

"Absolutely," Dean said.

 

"Fine."

 

"Great. We really appreciate it." Sam cleared his throat and withdrew a small notepad "So, your great-great grandfather. He's the one that was finally able to rid Harmony of demonic influence."

 

"So they say."

 

"You don't believe in any of that?" Dean asked.

 

"Legends are legends," she said with a shrug. "He performed a ritual and the town was happy."

 

"He bound a demon," Sam said.

 

"He could have made balloon animals and had the same result." Jen shifted her gaze between them. "Is this really necessary?"

 

"Why don't you just humor us then?" Dean asked.

 

"The story goes that in the late 1800's a novice conjurer summoned Andras and unleashed him on Harmony. Jacques Beauregard bound him and sent him back to Hell."

 

Sam blinked. "That's it?"

 

"That's it."

 

"Well, there's got to be more," Dean pressed. "Any details on Andras or –"

 

"Andras is a powerful demon, an assassin. He's manipulative, charismatic – People think they can control him, control that energy." Jen shook her head. "He tells you what you want to hear, but he doesn't lie. Just enough truth to ensnare you." Her voice grew quiet. "But by the time you figure out his true intentions, it's too late. You're already dead."

 

Sam glanced over at Dean. He could tell he was thinking the same thing.

 

"I thought you didn't believe in that kind of thing."

 

She straightened her back. "I don't. But you said to humor you."

 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. "All right, and…?"

 

"And what?"

 

"I'm sure Jacques shared a lot of the family secrets," Dean said.

 

She stared at him.

 

"You know. Protection rituals. Summoning. Binding."

 

She shifted her weight again. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

 

Sam glanced down at her hands. She kept turning them over and over, obviously bothered. Sam didn't know what had set her off, but he knew there was more going on in this shop than she wanted to let on. He turned away and started to examine the shelves while Dean continued talking to her.

 

She had amassed a huge collection of herbal remedies. Most seemed fairly standard, but there were a few Sam didn't recognize offhand. He flipped the page of his notepad and jotted a few of the names down to look up later. After he was done, he walked back over to Dean and Jen to follow the conversation.

 

"Okay, let me put it this way," Dean said.  "Let's just say Andras was summoned. How would you bind him? Send him back to Hell? This Andras isn't like other demons."

 

"You sound like you would know," she said coldly.

 

"We're just thorough," Sam said, jumping into the conversation as he shot Dean a warning glare.

 

Dean ignored the look and predictably kept focused on Jen. "Would there be a way to control it?"

 

Sam jerked his head.

 

"Listen to me." Jen leaned forward, her face stern. "For your own sake, I hope you haven't done anything foolish. You're too young to get involved in the occult. Go to Church instead."

 

Dean scoffed. "I doubt Church is going to protect us from a demon as sly as you say he is. Then again, we're probably not the one it's gunning for."

 

"I think it's time for you to go." She swept her arm out and pointed to the door.

 

Dean just shrugged. With a sigh, he slapped a few dollars on the table and pocketed the bottle that she had given him earlier.

 

Sam could only offer an apologetic smile. "If anything out of the ordinary happens, please let us know. We're staying downtown."

 

She studied him for a moment, as if she was trying to ascertain his motivation. "The only weird thing that happened is having you boys in town." She narrowed her eyes. "Now go."

 

Jen led Sam and Dean to the door and waited for them to leave. Once outside, she slammed the door behind them, shut the lights, and turned over her open sign to closed. Sam and Dean blinked at each other.

 

"Whoa. Talk about taking things personally," Dean said. He started down the street.

 

Sam wasn't in the mood for joking. Fueled by anger, he marched after Dean until he caught up with him and tried to make eye contact. Dean just kept walking down the sidewalk.

 

"Control, Dean?"

 

"Did you see her reaction?" He chuckled. "You know she was lying."

 

"You didn't answer me. You weren't seriously thinking of trying to control this demon."

 

Again, Dean didn't make contact and kept walking. His reaction was not encouraging.

 

"Dean."

 

"I wonder what she's hiding."

 

"Dean." Sam grabbed onto his arm and held him still. "You did not—"

 

"I wanted to gauge her reaction, okay?" He shrugged off Sam and glared at him. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

 

Sam huffed and shook his arms, glaring at Dean as he started back down the sidewalk again. After a moment to gather himself, Sam started after him and came to stroll beside him. "You know, you've been acting funny since we left Ohio."

 

"Is this about the convenience store again?"

 

"This is about everything."

 

Dean turned to him and scowled. "Not this again. Sam, I told you –"

 

They both stopped and looked up as the streetlights started to flicker. Sam frowned, watching the wavering lights ripple down the street like a wave of unhindered electricity. He dropped his gaze to Dean.

 

Dean stared at him. "Okay, that was weird."

 

"Yeah." Sam shifted his weight, suddenly feeling very exposed out in the open. He shivered and squeezed his arms close to his body. "But it doesn't change anything."

 

"Look, we'll talk about it later," Dean said. "Right now, we should focus on this."

 

"Fine." Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, do you have a theory?"

 

"I'm thinking we scared her enough that she might bring out Gramp's gizmos."

 

Sam nodded. "We might be able to see what rituals she's using for protection."

 

"I'll see what she's using."

 

Sam frowned.

 

"You hit the library and see what you can find out about Andras' original visit."

 

"And you're just going to waltz back into the shop?"

 

Dean laughed. "There's a house out back." He produced a paperclip and waved it in front of Sam. "I'm going to have a little look see."

 

Sam decided not to fight this battle and let it go. He had too many other questions. Once they both got back to the motel, Dean was going to come clean no matter what. Besides, he was right. For now, they had to stay focused on whether Andras was back in town, and how to get rid of him. If they could get rid of him.

 

Sam lingered a moment longer as he watched Dean disappear behind the herbal shop. Once he was gone from sight, Sam shook off the chill of the late afternoon and headed to the town's central library.

 

After spending hours poring over old files in the town library, Sam was beat. He took a swig from his beer bottle and cracked his neck, trying to work out all the kinks, before finally letting out a heavy sigh.  His handwritten notes and photocopied newspaper clippings from the city archives littered the surface of his bed, leaving little room for Sam to stretch out his legs.

 

He heard a crackle of thunder outside, followed by the steady patter of rain. He wanted to just get lost in the sound, to close his eyes and drift off, but he knew that he had too much at stake.

 

He'd spent all day looking for patterns. Most demons and spirits had an MO, and Sam was determined to find one for Andras. Jen's assertion that he was an assassin could fit any number of demons or creatures. If they were going to battle this thing, they needed to know specifics.

 

"There has to be something here." He placed the bottle on the table near the bed, careful not to knock over the pizza he'd ordered.

 

So far, Sam had only come across various murders that could be associated with Andras. Mass suicide. Decapitations. Even cannibalism. All were extremely violent activities happening prior to April 7^th, 1891, when Beauregard had made the front page after casting out the demon of Hart Street. Sam knew the murders had to be Andras, but they were random and sketchy, spread across the span of several months. He had never heard of a demon taking its sweet time on a killing spree.

 

Sam scanned through the articles again. Fires. Storms. Torture. Stabbings. Floods. Harmony seemed to have it all. The events were so haphazard, so chaotic, that Sam wondered if the disorganization was the pattern after all.

 

If that was the case, he had no idea what step they should take next.

 

Frustrated, Sam pushed aside his notes and shook his head. He knew that he needed a break. With a sigh, he slipped off the bed and lumbered to the bathroom.

 

Sam leaned over and turned on the faucet. The water was cool on his fingers, and he splashed himself a couple of times, allowing the water to invigorate his tired eyes. As the water ran down his face, Sam breathed out and closed his eyes. The distraction was a welcome one; he relished the feel of the cold droplets on his skin.

 

Satisfied with the momentary reprieve, Sam wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced up into the mirror.

 

Ruby's black eyes stared back at him.

 

Sam jumped and stumbled back a step. He reached for his weapon and swore, realizing he'd left it on the table with the pizza.

 

"Is that any way to say hello?" she asked.

 

He glanced over to the table. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I've come to help."

 

Sam scoffed. "So far, you haven't been much help."

 

"My time is precious. Now, do you want my help or not?"

 

Sam set his jaw and stared at her.

 

Ruby rolled her eyes. "You really need to get past that stubborn streak." Sam almost thought she would smile, but her face remained impassive. "I've come to offer you information on Andras."

 

"How do you know about Andras?"

 

"How could I not? Let's say I may have bumped into him once or twice downstairs."

 

"Friend of yours?" he asked.

 

"Hardly. He's a monster."

 

"And you're not."

 

"For someone that could desperately use some help, you're not making it easy." She raised her eyebrows. "He's here. He's just waiting for the right moment."

 

"The right moment."

 

"To reveal himself."

 

Sam shook his head and let out a short laugh. "This is the help you're offering?" He grabbed a towel and wiped the rest of his face. When he was finished, he tossed it aside and stepped over to Ruby, looming over her. "I think I'll pass."

 

"He's an assassin. He lives to kill. It gives him a rush." She held her head high. "He gets off on toying with people before he finally kills them."

 

Sam bit back his annoyance and stormed out of the room, going back to his notes on the bed. He made sure he kept his flask of holy water near when he turned to face her again. "So far, you've told me nothing that I don't already know. If you want to help, you'll tell me how to bind this demon and keep it from hurting anyone else."

 

"It's impossible."

 

"It's been done before."

 

She scoffed. "Whatever. Just know he's insane. Bloodthirsty. He'll never go back."

 

"We'll send him back. We know there's a way. We're going to do this." He pointed to the notes on his bed. "We're here to bind him and send him back for good."

 

"Is that what Dean told you?"

 

Sam tensed. "What has that got to do with anything?"

 

"Come on, Sam. You're not stupid. I know you're thinking it. You've been thinking it ever since you came to Harmony."

 

Sam stared at her. He refused to admit that Ruby was right. While he'd had severe reservations about this trip from the start, the fact that Dean was hiding something made him all the more nervous.

 

But she knew. He could see it in her face.

 

"Dean wouldn't summon a demon that powerful. He wouldn't try to control it."

 

"Are you so sure?" She cocked her head when he fell silent. "I didn't think so."

 

"Dean can do some stupid things, but he wouldn't try to control Andras."

 

"He wouldn't? Just like he wouldn't summon the Crossroads Demon? Just like he wouldn't make a deal with a demon?"

 

Sam clenched his teeth, and bit back the fire that was rising inside of him. "Don't," he said through his rattling jaw. "Don't go there."

 

"The truth hurts. The fact is, Dean is perfect for him. Andras has been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time." She took a step closer. "Insecure. Scared. Looking for some kind of reassurance that everything will be all right. Andras feeds off this kind of ache. Your brother is too weak not to be tempted. Andras knows this, and Andras will exploit it."

 

"Then, we'll use his arrogance to trap him and send him back."

"You're not really listening to me, are you?"

 

He frowned.

 

"Your friend at the herbal store failed to mention something."

 

"Like?"

 

"Andras isn't just summoned. He's much too powerful."

 

"What are you getting at?"

 

"Those that summon Andras become Andras."

 

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. "You're not serious."

 

"I'm always serious."

 

"It's a lie."

 

Her eyes bore into him in a way that resonated deep with Sam. She didn't need to speak for him to understand. He set his jaw and willed himself to remain strong. "I can't believe that."

 

Ruby sighed. "Don't believe me. That's your choice. But when you finally do, it'll be too late."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You know what I mean, Sam. Once Andras takes control, there's no going back. You have two choices. The first isn't pretty."

 

Sam thought of Ava and the other children like him. He cleared his throat and stood straighter. "And the second isn't an option. I'll do it my own way."

 

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's your funeral." She opened the front door and started to exit, pausing to give him one last look.  "Just remember, the clock is ticking."

 

The door didn't open again until after five in the morning.

 

Sam sat on his bed, silent, as Dean slipped into the darkened motel room. He watched as Dean shrugged off his wet jacket, tossed it over the back of one of the worn down chairs, and started rummaging through his pockets.

 

"What took you so long?"

 

Dean started, but quickly regained his cool. He squinted as he fumbled for the light, and when it snapped on, he just sighed.

 

"Dude, can you get any creepier?"

 

"We left the shop after three," Sam said. "It doesn't take that long to look around."

 

"That's because I wasn't looking around." Dean tossed a few bags onto the bed. "I found her stash."

 

Sam raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

 

"Not that kind of stash." He nudged his chin toward the bags. "Take a look."

 

Sam spread out the sample bags over the surface of the bed and studied them. He recognized a few of the easy ones – juniper, gravelroot, and wormwood. The others he couldn't identify offhand, though he thought he had seen a few samples on the shelves in the shop.

 

"For a place that prides itself on everyday natural remedies, she has a lot of the good stuff," Dean said.

 

Sam nodded, but kept quiet. Even though he couldn't recognize all the samples Dean had swiped, he could tell they held a common theme. For a shopkeeper who specialized in helping people with sleeping problems or cold sores, Jen had an extremely high number of herbs and plants associated with powerful magic.

 

"Do you know what these are?" Sam held up the other bags.

 

"Nah, I thought you might. But I got something better than that." Dean went back to his jacket and pulled out a small camcorder. "It got a little wet with the rain, but I think it's all right."

 

Sam took the camcorder from Dean. Once he flipped it on, he watched a figure – presumably Jen – start marking the ground. The symbols that she inscribed into the circle weren't ones that Sam readily recognized, but he understood the gist of the ritual.

 

"It's for protection, but it's nothing like what we've seen," Sam said.

 

"It's the real deal. And take a look at the book in her hand." Dean reached over and grabbed a cold slice of leftover pizza from the table. "There," he said, his voice muffled as he chewed.

 

"I see it."

 

The worn, tattered book looked centuries old. In fact, it looked a lot like the Key of Solomon that Bobby had given them. Sam squinted, trying to make out the words on the page, but Dean's video was too shaky and far away.

 

"You could have gotten a better shot," Sam said, bringing the camera closer to his face.

 

"And you say I need glasses." When Sam glanced up, Dean shrugged. "You try making secret home movies and not get caught." He shoveled the rest of the slice into his mouth.

 

Sam ignored the comment and went back to studying the scene. His attention returned to the book. "You think it's The Lesser Key of Solomon?"

 

"I wouldn't doubt it. She had all kinds of funky stuff in her house." Dean paused and fingered one of the newspaper clippings Sam had copied. "What'd you find out?"

 

Sam sighed. "Not much. Just that there was a wave of violent acts before Beauregard exorcized the demon."

 

"Pattern?"

 

Sam shook his head.

 

Dean sighed, stopping to rub his face. "All right. Well, we've got to think of something before this gets out of hand." He lumbered into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. "Dad had to have something."

Sam glanced over to their father's journal. The more he thought about their discovery, the more he thought maybe that information wasn't meant to be found.

 

"I hate to say this," Sam said, "but I think Jen is our best source on how to banish this demon."

 

"Unless she's the one summoning it," Dean called back.

Sam put the camcorder down. "Excuse me?"

 

"Someone's got to have summoned Andras," he said. "She's got all the right tools for it."

 

"It could be someone else."

 

"Yeah, like who?"

 

"Someone who knows what they're doing."

 

"Yeah, well unless I'm missing something, you and I are the only other people that would have a clue what to do." As the room fell silent, Dean shut off the water and poked his head out of the bathroom, a frown on his face. "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

 

Sam didn't say anything. Dean could deflect with humor all he wanted, but he knew exactly what Sam meant.

 

"You know something you're not sharing, Sammy?"

 

"I don't know," Sam said. "You tell me."

 

Dean sighed, scrubbing his face with a towel. "I don't know what your problem is, but you better get over it fast. We've got work to do."

 

"Don't try to change the subject. You—"

 

They both turned their heads at the sound of an alarm. Seconds later an ambulance went flying down the street.

 

Sam's eyes widened. He held up one of the herbal bags. "Isn't that towards –?"

 

Dean stormed past him and went for the door. "Grab your stuff. I'll get the car."

 

 

*      *      *     *

 

By the time Sam and Dean had arrived, the crime scene had been roped up and the investigators were hard at work searching the house. Sam followed Dean down to the front of the lawn where a crowd had gathered, including about a half a dozen reporters. Already the news stations were going live, reporting every sound byte as the neighbors fought each other for their fifteen minutes of fame.

 

"This town's quick," Dean said, squeezing between an older couple. "You see anything?"

 

"There's the ambulance." Sam peeked over the heads of some of the bystanders and watched a couple of EMT's carry a stretcher into the ambulance. "It could be a murder."

 

"Let's find out." Dean slipped up aside a young woman. "Hey there. Know what's going on?"

 

She shook her head. "I don't understand it. They were such a nice couple. They never fought."

 

"Domestic dispute?" Sam asked.

 

The girl shrugged. "I guess. They just started yelling sometime after three. No one could really hear anything with all the thunder from the storm." She sighed. "I think someone finally called the cops when they heard the gunfire." The girl looked to Sam. "I didn't even know they had guns."

 

Sam nodded and offered his best sympathetic smile. He took a moment to scan the crowd, noting that most people had the same baffled expression. The reporters were eating it up, aside from a few that were having camera problems.

 

"Goes to show that you just never know," Dean finally said.

 

Sam went to glare at him, but Dean was already working through the crowd. After a quick thanks, Sam followed after him. He frowned; Dean was heading for the crime scene.

 

"Hey," Sam said, grabbing onto his shoulder. "Do you want to be a little less conspicuous today?"

 

"This is where you would normally cover for me."

 

"I'm just saying I don't think this is the best time."

 

"Why not?"

 

Sam glanced over to his right. "See?"

 

"Great," Dean said, finally realizing.

 

Jen stood several feet away, but the coldness in her face was unmistakable. Sam gathered she just wasn't watching them; she was studying them.

 

She also knew that they'd found her. Quietly, she lifted the collar of her jacket and started to walk away. Sam and Dean pressed through the crowd and followed her. Only when they were far enough from the crime scene, did she stop and turn to face them.

 

Sam immediately noticed some kind of herbal bundle around her neck.

 

"I know you broke into my house last night," she said.

 

Dean kept his distance as he glared at her. "You're going to have to prove it."

 

"As soon as I can, I'm going to have the cops all over you."

 

"You know, maybe we just got off on the wrong foot," Sam said, forcing a smile.  He stepped between Jen and Dean. "We're all on the same side here."

 

"Are we?"

 

"Yeah," Dean said, glaring at Sam. "How do we know this isn't her handy work?"

 

"Are you accusing me?" Jen scoffed. "As far as I recall, nothing happened until you came to town."

 

"Your family has had a pretty long history with the occult," Dean shrugged. "Just saying…"

 

"Look," she said, waving a finger at them. "If I catch either one of you near my shop or my home again, I'll call the police. Now get out of town, and take your crap with you." With that, she stalked down the street back toward her home.

 

"That went well," Dean mumbled.

 

"She had some kind of protection around her neck." Sam watched her disappear into the shadows in the yard next to her shop. The two of them started back toward the crowd and to the Impala. "She's scared, Dean."

 

"Well, she should be if she summoned the damn thing."

 

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You still think she summoned it?"

 

To Sam's surprise, Dean sighed. "I don't know. The more we work on this whole thing the less sense it makes."

 

Sam couldn't argue with that. He still felt like they were missing some vital detail. Neither of them still knew any important defining characteristics of the demon, or how he could be repelled. If Ruby was right and Andras had possessed someone, namely someone like Dean, then Sam knew they were in the worst situation possible. Any investigation they did together could be tipping off the demon. At the same time, Sam didn't want to cut Dean out. If he lost sight of his brother, he could lose him forever.

 

"You've got that face again," Dean said, stopping in front of the Impala.

 

"What face?"

 

"That thinky face." He opened the door. "And not the good kind."

 

"There's a bad kind?"

 

"I know your faces. Hell, I've been keeping track of them since you were a baby, down to the constipated look when you were in diapers." He rested his arms on top of the hood and chuckled once before he slid into the car. "I can read you like a book."

 

"I didn't think you read books."

 

"That's cute." He slipped behind the wheel, sat back, and waited until Sam was in the Impala. "Lay it on me."

 

"Okay, what if this demon isn't like other demons?"

 

"We know he's not," Dean said simply. "He's a powerful son of a bitch. That's why we waste him."

 

"No, Dean. I'm talking about possession."

 

"All the demons we've encountered possess people."

 

Sam mumbled under his breath and hit his head on the back of the seat. "You're not listening. This demon doesn't come to make a deal or possess some unsuspecting person nearby. He takes control of the summoner."

 

"What?"

 

"The summoner becomes the demon."

"That's always a risk when summoning, Sammy. You know that. You have amateurs working circles all the time tapping into stuff they can't handle." He waved at the distant crowds still gathered aside the crime scene. "I bet half the possessions out there are stupid kids that don't know better."

 

"No, it's different."

 

"Well, how different?"

 

"Once Andras gets control, that's it, Dean. There's no exorcism. There's no way to get rid of the demon. There's no being saved."

 

It took a few minutes, but Sam could tell the information was finally sinking in for Dean. He frowned and searched his face. "Where'd you learn that?"

 

Sam hesitated. "Books."

 

Dean glared at him. "Now who's the liar?"

 

"I'm serious, Dean."

 

"All right," he said. "Let's say your secret information you don't want to share is right. Then how did Jacques Beauregard bind the demon and send him back?"

 

Sam looked away and stared at the dashboard. That…he didn't know. In fact, nothing made sense: what he and Dean knew, what Ruby told him, what Jen had said. The pieces didn't add up which meant that either they were wrong or someone was lying.

 

"I wish Dad had left us something."

 

"You and me both." Dean jingled his keys and went to put them in the ignition. "Maybe Bobby –"

 

The Impala's engine hummed to life. Sam stiffened when he saw Dean staring at the dashboard, which brought back memories of the convenience store just days before. He went to grab his arm and froze.

 

Dean still had the keys in his hand.

 

Sam's eyes widened. He grabbed the door handle to jump out, but when he glanced back, he realized Dean refused to move.

 

"Don't you be messing with my car!" he yelled. Dean gripped the wheel and glared out the windshield. "You hear me!"

 

The lights went dead, and everything snapped off. Not waiting another second, Dean jammed his keys into the ignition and turned on the car properly. Based on the relief in Dean's face, it hummed and purred just the way it should.

 

"That's it. This Andras is gone." He glared at Sam. "Tell me you have something we can use."

 

"Not here," Sam said, suddenly feeling vulnerable again, even if he felt some relief. If Dean was this mad about his car, then maybe he really was Dean after all. "I need to get back to the library."

 

"All right. The library it is."

 

"How long is this going to take?"

 

Sam let out a heavy sigh and turned his head, glaring at Dean. "Before you were all set on coming here. Now you change your mind?"

 

"That was before I knew it was going to take all day."

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  He'd convinced Dean to try to dig up anything else he could find on Jacques Beauregard while he double checked the old newspaper scans, but Sam knew that wouldn't distract Dean for long. He just hadn't figured on Dean hovering over him the entire time.

 

Sam ignored his brother and scrolled through the scanned computer files. He'd spent the last two hours reviewing the same articles he'd researched yesterday, hoping to find the same pattern in each incident. While Sam had his notes and photocopies handy, he wanted to see everything in context, something that was hard to do when Dean tapped the desk with his pen every two seconds.

 

Sam slammed his hands down on the table. "Dude."

 

"What?"

 

"I'm trying to work."

 

"It's not my fault you're slow," Dean said as he tossed a folder on the table. "I did my part."

 

"Your part wasn't hard." Sam leaned toward the folder and peeked inside. "Anything new?"

 

"Not really. Well, there's the little bit where Jacques split town after he bound the demon."

 

Sam stopped and frowned at Dean. "He didn't stick around for all the fame and glory?"

 

"I thought maybe he was in it for the chicks." Dean shuffled through the papers inside the folder and withdrew a lone sheet, handing it to Sam. "But looks like this whole deal was personal."

 

Sam took the paper. Jacques Beauregard had left town, only it wasn't just after the defeat of the demon.

 

"His sister was one of Andras' victims," Sam said quietly.

 

As he stared at the article, he frowned, curious as to why the details of Rebecca Beauregard's death had been left out. All the other deaths he'd read about laid out the gruesome details for all to see. This had nothing.

 

Dean leaned close, tapping the file with his index finger. "My guess is that this thing likes to hit people where it hurts the most: the people they care about."

 

Great, Sam thought to himself. Another sadistic demon. Maybe Jen and Ruby were right about Andras. Maybe…

 

Sam straightened and went for his notes. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean tense as well.

 

"Find something?" Dean asked.

 

"Maybe. I think I just thought of a way to narrow our search."

 

He pulled out all the violent acts that he'd catalogued from the 1890's in Harmony. What he noticed didn't surprise him. Over three-quarters of the extremely violent incidents in 1890 and 1891 were domestic: spousal abuse, family feuds, and lovers' quarrels gone bad. While that statistic on its own didn't point to a demon, the other factor Sam had found did. Each incident had been preceded by an electrical disturbance.

 

Including the episode last night.

 

"What?" Dean leaned closer. "You found something?"

 

"Yeah," Sam said slowly. He shuffled the papers and brought them out of sight from Dean's prying eyes. "I think you're right. The deaths are a form of domestic or familial violence."

"All right," Dean said with a clap. When an older woman glared at him – and Sam by extension – Dean lowered his voice to just above whisper. "Now we know its target of choice. But what's this hunch of yours that brought us back here in the first place?"

 

Sam looked down at the incidents he'd printed. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to share his findings with Dean. This time there were just too many questions left unanswered. Ruby's words kept echoing in his mind, urging him to throw away the blinders and see what was right in front of him. He should be able to tell. He would know if Dean had been possessed. He would know if Dean was under the influence of something else.

 

Then, he remembered his father and how it took them hours to figure out the truth. The yellow-eyed demon had been that adept at taking on his persona. Dean hadn't been able to tell that Meg possessed him until it was almost too late.

 

Sam really had no way to know for sure.

 

But this was Dean. This was the same Dean that had hit on a pretty college student the moment they'd walked into the library. This was the same Dean that had dribbled crumbs over a yellowing book in the archive. And this was the same Dean that swore they'd kill this thing with their bare hands if necessary.

 

No way could Ruby or Jen be right. The electrical issues they'd experienced had to be a coincidence. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe Jen was using this whole story as a cover.

 

Or maybe Jen was right and Andras had taken Dean long ago. Everything they were going through was really just playtime for the demon.

 

Sam set his jaw. He really hated being the one of the receiving end.

 

"Sam. Sammy. Earth to Sammy."

 

Sam howled as Dean punched him in the arm. "Dude, really?"

 

"Well, you just took a flight to lala land."

 

"Yeah." Sam rubbed his arm as he glanced down at his file.

 

"So…what'd you find?"

 

"Uh, basically the same that you did. I couldn't be sure until I came here to check."

 

"That's it?" Dean asked, frowning. "We came back here for you to just agree with me?"

 

Sam forced a smile. "Pretty much."

 

Dean's eyes darkened. "You're hiding something."

 

"You're paranoid."

 

"Hey, whatever. If you want to keep your little secrets, go right ahead. I'll find someone who will help." Dean shook his head and whipped out his cell phone. "Bobby's got to know something, and I'll bet he's willing to share."

 

"Look, Dean…"

 

"What the hell?"

Dean was scowling at phone. Sam scooped of his files and stood, moving to peek at the phone, but Dean snapped it shut before he could catch a glimpse.

 

"Son of a bitch."

 

"What?"

 

"You finish up here." Dean pocketed his cell and started for the exit to the archives. "I'll meet you back at the motel."

 

"Dean!"

 

He waved him away and started down one of the corridors. Sam went to follow, but a stern faced library interjected.

 

"Young man, this is a public library. Quiet means quiet."

 

"Sorry. Won't happen again," he muttered. He gently pushed her aside and started to jog down the corridor.

 

By the time he'd made it into the main room of the library, Dean was out of sight. Sam sighed. Dean wasn't making this any easier on him. So, Sam would return the favor.

 

He pulled out his cell and started to dial Dean's number.

 

Then, the lights flickered.

 

Sam froze. No, he thought. Please let it be a coincidence.

 

The power shut down.

 

Sam closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh as he listened to the Impala peel away from the library. He knew that his options were running out, and if he didn't act fast, there would be no turning back.

 

Resolved to find a better way, Sam opened his eyes and headed for the door.

 

Sam flung the herbal shop door open and marched inside, ignoring the shocked and nervous look in Jen's eyes as she fumbled for something behind the counter.

 

"I told you to stay away from me!"

 

"Look, I don't have time for this," Sam said, keeping his hands open as he stepped toward the counter. "My brother's in trouble, and I have to help him."

 

"If you and your brother have been irresponsible, that's not my problem." She grabbed the phone and waved it in front of his face. "I'm calling the cops."

 

"Call the cops. It won't make a difference." He leaned toward her. "Where are your husband and daughter?"

 

Her face paled. "Are you threatening me?"

 

"I'm warning you." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the newspaper article Dean had given him. With a single jab, he struck the picture of Jen's family with his index finger.

 

Jen snatched the article and glared at him. "Get out!"

 

"Where are they?"

 

"You sick bastard." Her trembling hands started to pound the buttons on the phone.

 

Sam easily reached over and gave the cord a swift tug. When she scrambled to grab it, he tossed the cord aside. "You're not listening to me," he said coolly.

 

"They're far from here," she finally said. "You or your brother won't find them."

 

"And you think that is going to work? Do you think you can hide them?" Sam let out an aggravated sigh. "He'll come for them. You know he'll find them anywhere. They'll never be safe unless we stop this thing."

 

Jen fell silent; Sam figured he'd finally struck a cord with her.

 

"So, what do you want?" she said quietly.

 

"I need information. I need to know what your grandfather did so we can get rid of this demon."

 

"How do I know--?"

 

Sam opened his jacket and reached inside. He took out a small charm and held it in front of her.

 

She frowned. "Where did you get that?"

 

"I'm a hunter. We're hunters." He put away the charm. "I assume you know what that is."

 

She remained silent.

 

"I know you have information on Andras," he said, taking another step forward. She didn't move this time. "I know you have rituals that can be used against him."

 

Jen looked down, away from Sam, and fell into the seat behind the counter. With a heavy sigh, she bowed her head, clasped her hands, and brought her fingers to her lips.

 

Sam held back the nervous flutter in his stomach and rounded the corner to stand in front of her. "What? What is it?"

 

"I-I don't know how to stop it."

 

"We saw you. We saw you creating a circle –"

 

She shook her head. "It gives minimal protection at best."

 

"But Jacques…"

 

"It's a lie."

 

Sam felt his throat tighten. "What?"

 

"Jacques didn't know what he was doing," she said quietly. "He never cast any demon out."

 

"I read the lore."

 

"The lore is wrong," she said. "My great-great grandfather never knew anything about the occult. He had to learn when…" She looked down at the floor. "She was lonely. She just wanted some attention."

 

"Rebecca."

 

Jen nodded. "He didn't know what to do."

"But the demon left," Sam insisted. "He did something right. We can use that."

 

She shook her head again. "We can't. Jacques came across a special gun. It's gone now."

 

Sam felt his fingers go cold. "A special gun?"

 

"After she died, he wanted nothing to do with that gun." Jen met his gaze. "I don't know what happened to it."

 

Sam turned away, and closed his eyes, trying to push back the pain. He refused to believe that the Colt was the only way to deal with this demon. He wasn't going to relive the mess with his father and Dean all over again.

 

After he took a moment to regain his composure, Sam turned around. He reached back and withdrew the Colt, and held it in front of her.

 

Jen's eyes widened.

 

"This should have killed it," he said. "I need to know why it didn't."

 

Jen kept her gaze locked on the Colt as she spoke. "From what I was told, he shot her in the shoulder. The demon escaped, but she suffered from complications and died shortly thereafter. Jacques couldn't live with himself after that."

 

Images of his father pleading with him to shoot assaulted his mind. Sam held onto them and pushed them back deep into himself. He cleared his throat.

 

"I need whatever information you have."

 

She nodded and hopped off the stool, quickly passing him before she slipped into the next room. He eyed the doorway, making sure she wasn't pulling a fast one over him, before he hid the Colt. While he waited for her, Sam studied the different bottles that she had stacked on the shelves behind the counter.

 

This time he recognized some of the plants. Jen had both heliotrope and a black hellebore. Both were extremely powerful poisons used in serious magical practices.

 

Jen wasn't just nervous that Andras might come back and take revenge on her family. She was terrified to the core.

 

"Here," she said, stepping out of the back room. She handed him the worn and tattered book Dean had caught on camera. "It's all I have."

 

Sam's eyes widened at the prospect and he quickly took the book. Each page was filled with sigils and incantations, as well as precautionary steps to protect against the demons that could be summoned. He could almost feel the power contained within the handwritten words, the swelling and longing of something that yearned to be let free. 

 

"It's the Lesser Key of Solomon." Sam flipped through the book, searching for Andras.  He paused and glanced at Jen. "Is this real?"

 

"One of the originals," she replied. "Or so I'm told."

 

Sam continued to flip through the pages, stopping when the book abruptly ended in the middle. He frowned and turned back and then skipped ahead. "There are pages missing."

 

"Some demons were too dangerous to keep in there," Jen explained. "Jacques kept the protection and defense rituals, but ripped out everything else and burned them."

 

She hadn't even finished speaking when Sam started to frantically search through the book. He'd found some information on Andras, but nothing more than some magic circles and some defensive rites. Angry, he slammed the book onto the glass counter.

 

"It's in your brother," she said softly.

 

Sam didn't answer her.

 

"I feel bad for you." She sighed. "But it's just going to keep killing people."

 

"And I don't have a way to stop it," Sam muttered.

 

Jen made a vague wave of her hand toward Sam. "That gun could do it."

 

"I'm not killing my brother."

 

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's probably already dead."

 

Sam shook his head. Maybe Dean didn't care about his soul, but Sam did. And he just couldn't believe Dean was already gone, burning in a thousand fires within the depths of Hell.

 

"I don't know the specifics," she said, continuing, "but after the demon left, he tried to reach her, but there was nothing left. She was an empty shell. When Andras takes hold, he takes over completely."

 

"Yeah, so I've heard."

 

"It's probably toying with you. It always plays with its victims."

 

Sam turned to her, his eyes dark. "How do I know it's not you?"

 

She stiffened. "Excuse me?"

 

"It toys with its victims? That would suit you perfectly, wouldn't it?"

 

Jen set her jaw and ripped the bundle from around her neck, tossing it on the counter. "Take it."

 

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

 

"It's a mix of mandrake and Solomon's Seal. Andras can't go near the stuff. Wear it and then you'll know."

 

Sam picked up the bundle and examined it. It smelled awful.

 

"You were wearing this earlier," he said.

 

"And your brother wouldn't go near me."

 

"What about you?" he asked, refusing to consider that possibility.

 

"I have more."

 

He nodded and squeezed the bundle. At least he would know one way or the other when Dean came back to the motel. But that wouldn't help him rid Dean of the demon, if Dean was still alive. So far, his options were the Colt and…

 

Sam set his jaw. "What else do you have?"

 

"That's it," she said. "That's all I have."

 

"Maybe we can use some of your circles and—"

 

"No." She grabbed the book and handed it to him. "Do it yourself. I'm done."

 

"What?"

 

"Look, you wanted information and now you have it. If you're not going to do the right thing, then I have to leave."

 

"You're skipping town? You know this thing will find you."

 

"Then maybe you should do something about it. You're a hunter, after all. Act like one." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. But that's all I can do. Please leave now."

 

Sam had no reply for her. Instead, he grabbed the book and the bundle and headed to the door. It seemed like all his options had run out and he was left to face the inevitable.

 

He would not back down.

 

Sam had one option left. If that didn't work, then he would do this on his own.

 

With one last stroke, Sam finished the outer ring of the circle. This was the second he'd created that night; he wanted to make sure that each one was flawless.

 

Dean still hadn't come back.

 

"That isn't going to work."

 

Sam ignored Ruby and started working on the symbols within the circle. The instructions in the Lesser Key of Solomon weren't much different from those in the Key of Solomon, aside from a few obvious distinctions. Some of the symbols were older variations of the ones they currently used while others Sam had never seen before. The differences made sense. They were tapping into power they had never used before.

 

"Andras isn't your run of the mill demon," Ruby said. He heard her shift behind him. "None of the regular tricks are going to work. They didn't work on Azazel, and they won't work on Andras."

 

"They're not tricks," Sam muttered. "And I don't recall inviting you in."

 

"Since when do I need an invitation?"

 

Sam stopped drawing and let out a heavy sigh. After pausing a second, he placed the chalk down, and with mild impatience he glared at her. "What do you want, Ruby?"

 

She was standing behind him, her arms crossed. "I've come to give you one last chance."

 

"It's not an option."

 

"And the Colt is?"

 

"I don't have visions anymore, okay?" he said, turning back to the circle. "I'm normal now."

 

She laughed. "Oh right. Normal. Keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, we have a war to fight."

 

Sam threw down the chalk and stood to face her. "You know, maybe I'm tired of this stupid war. Maybe I'm tired of going nowhere. And maybe I'm tired of taking orders from people like you."

 

"Are you finished?"

 

Sam just shook his head and went back to finishing the protection rites.

 

"You Winchesters are thick-headed."

 

"You said it yourself. If Andras is in control, then Dean's already gone." Sam finished the last symbol and put the chalk away. He glanced over his shoulder before dragging a small carpet over the circle. "I have to know for sure."

 

"If you would listen for a second, maybe you would hear me. If you were able to control the demon, you may be able to hold onto whatever shred of Dean might be left."

 

"So, you're telling me part of him could still be there?" Sam asked.

 

Ruby gave him a long-suffering look. "If you act fast enough, you can grab him before he slips too far into the Pit. But it comes with a price."

 

"I heard you. I'd have to control the demon."

 

"And?"

 

"And I don't want to do that."

 

"So, you'll let Andras win. And you'll lose Dean."

 

"I won't," he said through gritted teeth. He glanced over to his bed, and to the cell phone lying on top of it. If only Bobby would call him back. He just needed a few more options. There had to be a loophole. There always was a loophole.

 

"Sam, it's time to get a clue. Andras means business. He's here. You either control him or you kill him. Only in one of those choices does Dean walk away alive."

 

Sam sunk onto the edge of the bed, mulling over what Ruby said. The months were flying by, and Sam still had nothing to show for it. All of Ruby's promises were nothing but empty words, and part of him was starting to doubt she could really help at all. He had to keep holding onto that hope that maybe there was a way, and she would reveal the secret at the right time, or he and Dean would stumble onto something before his time was up.

 

It couldn't be over now. Sam had to believe everything they had gone through wasn't all for nothing.

 

He sighed and gazed up at Ruby. "How…How would I do it? Just for the sake of argument," he quickly added.

 

"Well, just for the sake of argument, it's not all that hard," she said. "You just concentrate."

 

He snorted. "Concentrate on what?"

 

"You'll know when the time comes," she said with a sly smile. "Just focus. It will snap into place."

 

Sam nodded. Part of him knew this should be bothering him more, but at this point he needed to focus on keeping Dean alive long enough to find a way to keep him alive period. He would do whatever it took to make that happen.

 

It wouldn't come to that, he quickly reminded himself. He would find another way.

 

He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Now, he just had to wait for Dean.

 

An hour later, Dean returned to the motel. Ruby had been long gone by then, which had given Sam the opportunity to reflect on the situation, look over his notes, and make some last minute changes to the room. Now, he sat at the edge of the bed, watching the door, waiting for Dean to leave the Impala and walk inside.

 

Sam knew the best-case scenario would be that this was all just a misunderstanding and he would walk away looking like a fool. He would love more than anything for that to happen, though his gut told him that whatever was happening was much more sinister.

 

He just had to keep hoping Dean was still in there.

 

The doorknob jostled; Sam tensed. He knew the time had come.

 

Dean opened the door and stopped, taking one long look around the room. His gaze finally settled on Sam, and he raised his eyebrows. "Done a bit of redecorating?"

 

Sam rose to his feet, his intense gaze locked on Dean.

 

"Oh, I get it," Dean said. "You think I'm possessed."

 

"I want my brother back."

 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. And any second my head is going to spin around, right?"

 

Sam said nothing.

 

"Oh, I know." He chuckled and waved his hands. "There is no Dean. There is only Zuul."

 

"That's not funny."

 

"You're right. It's not funny." Dean shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on his bed. "Now will you quit this crap so we get down to business?"

 

"I'm not playing this game anymore," Sam said. "What do you want?"

 

Dean shrugged. "Hot pastrami sandwich. Maybe some Combos."

 

Sam clenched his teeth, and took a long hard swallow, willing himself to remain completely focused. He took a step forward.

 

"I know that Andras takes over its summoner. I know the signs."

 

"Well, you got some faulty logic there, Sherlock."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Because first of all, I never summoned the damn thing. And second," Dean reached into his shirt and held out a second chain, the small charm Bobby had given them dangling from the center, "I still have this."

 

"So?"

 

"So?" Dean shook his head. "You think that after what happened to you, I'm going to leave myself open like that?"

 

"Andras is a different kind of demon," Sam explained, slowly closing the distance between them. He kept his movements conservative, noting that Dean was watching his every move, even as he slipped his hand behind his back. "He's craftier than most demons."

 

"Well, if he possessed me, he'd be stupider than most demons." Dean frowned, his gaze hardening as he searched Sam. "All right, what? You're going to try an exorcism? Maybe some salt? Or you could always throw some holy –"

 

Sam tossed holy water in Dean's face.

 

Dean swore, bringing his hand to wipe the water from his eyes. No smoke, no burns – nothing happened to Dean that would give Sam a sign that he was possessed.

 

"Come on, Sam." Dean wiped his face on his sleeve. "That's enough. You happy now?"

 

"Holy water didn't work on the yellow-eyed demon."

 

"So why did you even bother?" He flapped his water soaked shirt. "Damn."

 

"I just wanted to get close."

 

Dean's frown turned to mild confusion. As Sam advanced, Dean stumbled back, closer and closer to the wall. Then, he flinched. And flinched again.

 

Sam clutched the bundle hidden under his shirt. "Now I know."

 

Before Dean could answer, Sam lunged forward, aiming for Dean's head. Dean ducked and dove forward, his shoulder ramming into Sam's stomach. Sam gasped for air, but quickly recovered, locking his arm around Dean's neck. Despite the hold, Dean twisted and turned, using his body mass to push Sam backward.

 

Sam held his ground.

 

Dean twisted again, this time shoving Sam back into the bed. Sam grunted, losing his grip, which allowed Dean to sweep his leg under, drop Sam to the ground, and pin him. Dean let out a smug chuckle, thinking he had the upper hand, like he always did, which caused Sam to lose concentration. Right now, Dean seemed to be nothing else but Dean, complete with his amusement at inappropriate moments.

 

"Well, that was fun," Dean muttered.

 

The flash of lightning outside brought Sam back to his senses. He used his height to worm his way out of Dean's grasp, and flipped, pinning him to the floor. Dean chuckled again, but Sam saw the distinct flicker of fear in his eyes, as well as a light sweat dampen his face.

 

Everything about his face seemed off, and Sam suddenly realized why. He reached down his shirt and withdrew the mandrake bundle, pausing long enough to watch Dean's expression.

 

He paled. Dean kept trying to move his face away from the herbal potpourri.

 

"You can't stand this, can you?"

 

"Dude, it smells like wet feet." Dean coughed.

 

Sam reached over and tied the bundle around Dean's neck. He coughed again, obviously weakened by the properties of the bundle, but did nothing but lie on the floor.

 

Sam withdrew the Colt. He flipped it and with a deep breath, he struck Dean's head with the butt. Dean immediately went limp. 

 

Sam rose to his feet and stared at him. He had hoped that he had been wrong. Now Sam was faced with a reality with limited options. He didn't know if anything was left of Dean inside or if he'd already lost him completely.

 

The thought that Dean could be gone – long gone – burned Sam inside. He set his jaw, staring with hate at the demon lying beneath him.

 

If anything, he would make Andras pay for what he had done. Sam would make sure of it.

 

Sam had already started the exorcism when Dean awoke.

 

"What the hell, Sam." Dean tugged at the rope that bound him to one of the motel chairs. "You think that's going to work?"

 

Sam flipped the page. "Ecce dabit voci Suae, vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo."

 

"I'm not a demon!"

 

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—"

 

"Sam!"

 

Sam ignored him and kept chanting, keeping his voice steady and even. Though, the further he dove into the exorcism, the more nervous he became. Dean wasn't even breaking a sweat. The only thing that seemed to be affecting him was the herbal bundle, and even that was starting to wear off.

 

"Go ahead and waste your breath," Dean mumbled. "When this is all done, I'm so going to kick your ass."

 

Sam stopped at the edge of the circle, leveling his gaze with Dean. "Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis."

 

Again, nothing. Frustrated, Sam slammed the book shut.

 

"You see?" Dean grunted and pulled at the rope, but quickly sighed when he failed to free himself. "Sammy…"

 

"You're not leaving me with many choices," Sam said coolly. He tensed, watching the lights flicker. "Why don't you make this easy on yourself and leave?"

 

"I'd love that." Dean jerked his hands again. "How about untying me?"

 

Sam withdrew the Colt.

 

"Whoa! Hey." Dean squirmed in the seat, and flattened his palms in surrender. "Let's not jump the gun here."

 

"I'm done. I'm sorry, Dean, but I'm done."

 

Out of all the monsters they'd hunted over the years, Sam never had expected this. He set his jaw and leveled the Colt at Dean's head.

 

"Sam!"

 

He felt a flicker of hesitation as he saw the fear swell in Dean's eyes. The fear was real. The fear was deep. Only Sam couldn't be sure if the fear belonged to Dean or something else.

 

"Sam." Dean's voice was urgent but firm. "Whatever you've been told, it's a lie." He struggled against the rope that bound him. "It's all a lie."

 

Sam stared at him. Maybe once he would have pleaded with the demon to let him go. Maybe once he would have reasoned with the spirit to move on. But those days were gone.

 

Everything else had failed. Sam knew he had only two options left: the Colt or…

 

Sam swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do.

 

While he kept the gun trained on Dean, Sam searched himself, trying to find this center that Ruby had mentioned. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he wasn't even sure if it was possible, but at this point, he knew he couldn't shoot Dean. He couldn't be the one to send his brother to Hell.

 

Somewhere in the distance, he saw Dean frown. "Sam?"

 

Sam let himself float, disconnect, and slip to a place that was cool and painless. The heat and fire of emotion didn't seem to touch him there, and just out of reach, he felt this itch, a deep burning itch, begging to be scratched.

 

"Sam? Hey, Sammy? Sammy, look at me."

 

Closer. He felt it just beyond his fingertips.

 

"Sam!"

 

A light buzzing filled his ears. Nothing overpowering, but soothing, like coming home. He knew if he reached just a little further, if he just pushed past that invisible wall, he would be there. He would be where he should be.

 

"It's Bela!"

 

Everything snapped off around Sam. He blinked and frowned at Dean. "Bela?"

 

Dean nodded. Sam noticed he looked breathless, sitting as far on the edge of his seat as he could within his binds. The desperation in his eyes threw Sam's balance. He tried to wrap his mind around what game they were playing now, how any of this could be relevant.

 

Either he had done something to spook Andras or he'd frightened Dean.

 

"What about Bela?" Sam said. He kept the Colt aimed at Dean's head.

 

"I got a message from her. I've been tracking that bitch all day."

 

"When did you get that call? Today?"

 

Dean had an uncomfortable, pained look on his face, one that Sam had learned to read years ago. Dean was scared.

 

"The convenience store," Sam said, suddenly making the connection. "She's the one that tipped you about Andras."

 

Dean didn't answer.

 

"Well, did she?"

 

He rocked back and looked away. "I don't know."

 

Sam stared at him. "You don't know?"

 

"I just knew we had to come here."

 

"Oh, that's helpful."

 

"Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time." He motioned to his bound hands. "Then you went all Misery on me."

 

Sam shook his head. He couldn't believe he was entertaining this idea. "Dean, what the hell is going on?"

 

"I don't know!" He jerked his hands and sighed. "Earlier today I saw that she'd called when we were in Ohio. Every time I try to check that damn message I –"

 

"You what?"

 

Dean grimaced.

 

"Dean."

 

"I can't remember."

 

"You can't remember." Sam let out an aggravated sigh. "Do you want to be more specific?"

 

"I told you! I can't remember. Everything gets all foggy and weird."

 

Sam felt his stomach flop. "Where's your phone?"

 

"It's in my coat."

 

Sam backed away, keeping the gun pointed at Dean. When he reached the bed, he leaned back and started fumbling through his pockets. To his disgust, he came across some crinkled gum wrappers filled with old chewed gum. He made a face and bypassed them, grabbing Dean's phone. He flipped it open and scrolled down to the received calls.

 

Sure enough, Bela's number was there, listed at the exact time they'd hit the convenience store.

 

Immediately, Sam went to Dean's voicemail.

 

"Hey! That's private!"

 

Sam jabbed the gun at him, warning him to be silent. The message started.

 

"Hello, Dean," Bela said. "I have something important in Harmony, Pennsylvania for you. It might give you some answers on those burning questions you have about Sam."

 

Sam shot a hard look at Dean. He thought he saw a wave of guilt wash over Dean's face, but it was quickly replaced with the same uneasiness he'd seen earlier.

 

Sam waited for Bela to continue. Only, she never did.

 

Dead air filled the voicemail for the next thirty seconds. Sam was about to disconnect when he heard a low thumping, almost like tapping on a padded tablecloth.

 

Then, the chanting began.

 

Sam immediately recognized the Latin. It was medieval Latin, garbled but understandable through Bela's accent. But it wasn't just the Latin Sam recognized. He heard the name Andras.

 

And the name Dean.

 

It suddenly all made sense.

 

"What?" Dean asked. "You got that look on your face." He swallowed. "I'm not going to like this."

 

"It's an incantation." Sam lowered the Colt and sighed. This wasn't the best of news, but it was at least something Sam could process. Incantations could be reversed or broken. Sam stuffed the Colt in his jeans and turned to Dean. "Bela placed one on you."

 

"An incantation for what?"

 

"It sounds like a summons, Dean."

 

"You saying she summoned this thing on me?"

 

"There's one way to find out." Sam started to dial her number.

 

Come on, pick up, he thought to himself.

 

"Hello, Dean."

 

"Try again."

 

"Oh, Sam. What a surprise. I assume Dean is tied up right now?"

 

Sam glanced over to Dean who was frantically trying to weasel his way out of his restraints.

 

"You took the summon and modified it into an incantation on Dean," Sam said.

 

"Guilty as charged."

 

"You do realize this thing is a cold-blooded murderer who turns on its summoner."

 

"I've taken precautions," Bela said. "Besides, I thought it might be nice to have an assassin at our beck and call."

 

"Not our," Sam reminded her. "How could you be so stupid? This thing will come and kill you. You can't control it, Bela."

 

"Then you don't know me very well."

 

"I don't think you're listening to me," Sam said pointedly. "This demon? Because of you it's going to take control of Dean, and then it's going to come and kill you."

 

"No friggin' demon is stealing my thunder," Dean muttered. "I had first dibs."

 

Sam pinched his face and shot Dean an impatient look, warning him to keep quiet.

 

"Listen, Sam. My sources are far more reliable than yours. I have nothing to worry about. You on the other hand…" Bela let out a soft chuckle. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes once Andras rears his ugly head."

 

Sam clenched his teeth. "I'm going to kill you."

 

"I said first dibs!" Dean yelled.

 

She sighed. "I can see that Andras hasn't made an appearance yet. Give my regards to Dean."

 

The line went dead.

 

Sam stood there and stared at the phone, trying to think of his next move. Bela had made that incantation two weeks ago. Unless Andras was playing head games with him and was posing as Dean, that meant he had gone all this time fighting back the incantation.

 

Sam felt hope again.

 

He just didn't know if he could be sure that Dean was the one that was in front of him.

 

It was time for him to take a chance.

 

Sam walked over to Dean and started cutting through the rope that restrained him. "Something must be holding it back from taking over your body."

 

"Yeah. Those charms Bobby gave us."

 

"I don't think those charms are going to hold up against this thing."

 

"Then, my winning personality." He grinned.

 

"Just stop, all right?" Sam broke through the rope and went for the second hand, but stumbled back, feeling a swift smack to his head.

 

"Dude!" Sam pressed his hand to side of his head. "What the hell was that for?"

 

"That's for tying me up."

 

"What else was I supposed to do?"

 

"Not point a friggin' gun to my head, for starters."

 

"I didn't know if you were you." Sam hesitated, but finally shook his head, crouching in front of Dean to untie his feet. "In fact, I'm still not sure, but I'm running out of options."

 

"Fine. Whatever." Dean broke free from the rest of the rope and rubbed his wrists. "So we kill the bastard before it grabs itself some prime real estate."

 

"It's not going to be that easy." With one last grunt, he freed Dean from the chair. "Most of the information on Andras is missing. Just like in Dad's journal. I don't think anyone wanted this summon to fall into the wrong hands."

 

"Then where the hell did Bela get it?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"There's got to be some way to defeat this thing," Dean said. "Did you call Bobby?"

 

"I left a message. He hasn't gotten back to me yet."

 

"Dammit!" Dean started to pace the length of the floor, running his hands through his hair as he walked. "You know, out of all the ways I expected to go to Hell, this wasn't one of them."

 

"You're not going to Hell, Dean," Sam said evenly.

 

Dean glared at him, but didn't reply.

 

"At least we have a good idea of when Andras is around."

 

"What do you mean? You find something?"

 

"Every time he goes to make a move, there is some kind of electric disturbance."

 

Dean eyed the lights in the room. "So what? This thing is juiced up on electricity?"

 

"I think he is electricity."

 

"Come again? I thought you said this thing takes over people who summon it."

 

"He does. Or, in your case, the poor bastard who will be his vessel." Sam tried to suppress a smile when Dean scowled at him. "But I'm starting to think his true form involves electricity."

 

"That's what you found in the library," Dean said, nodding with understanding.

 

"Yeah, I figure we track his moves by –"

 

The two of them froze as the lights started to flicker.

 

"Aw. Crap," Dean said with a sigh.

 

"I think we've run out of time." Sam searched the room and paused, his gaze settling on the Impala out the window. "But I have an idea."

 

Sam quickly grabbed his bag and shoved his notes inside. "Hurry," he called back to Dean.

 

The two of them rushed out of the motel room and started for the Impala. All around them the streetlights started to flicker and buzz, like they were overloaded with a surge of energy that could barely be contained.

 

Sam immediately ran to the truck. He whipped out a marker, and after he paused for a moment to recall the image in his mind, he started to draw on the car.

 

"No, no, no!" Dean lunged at him, but didn't stop him. "Not again!"

 

One last symbol…Sam was finished. He pocketed the marker and opened the trunk, giving Dean a stern, authoritative look. "Get in."

 

Dean stared at him incredulously. "Dude, you're not putting me in the trunk."

 

"It's a Devil's Trap. Nothing will be able to get in."

 

Dean blinked at him. "It's my trunk!"

 

There was another flicker, brighter and more frenzied than before. Sam felt an increased sense of urgency. They had to go now.

 

Sam shifted his weight impatiently. "Dean, just get in the trunk."

 

"When we get out of here, we're going some place sweet," Dean muttered. He hesitated, eyeing the inside of the spacious trunk. "You know that I could poke out an eye in here?"

 

Sam shoved him inside and shut the trunk.  He could still hear Dean's whining and protests as he jumped into the driver's seat and started the Impala.

 

As much as he wanted to, Sam knew he couldn't keep Dean in there forever. Eventually, Dean would get out, and Andras would take over. Sam just needed to find a way to break the incantation and send Andras back to Hell.

 

He glanced down at his cell phone. Still no word from Bobby.

 

Sam needed time to think. He needed to find a place where he could keep Dean safe until he could come up with a plan.

 

 

Sam slammed the Impala into park. He disregarded the loud "oof" from the back and jumped out of the car, making a beeline to the herbal store.

 

"Hey!" He pounded on the door. "We need help!"

 

He peered inside the darkened shop, searching for any sign of movement, activity, anything. When nothing but emptiness stared back, Sam pounded harder.

 

"I know you're in there!"

 

Sam was about to go for his lock pick when he saw a flicker of light from inside. He squinted, searching for her. "Jen?" He rapped at the glass. "Jen!" He saw a glimpse of her face before it disappeared again.

 

Sam swore. He didn't have time for this.

 

Sam pressed his face against the glass and took a deep breath. "Look, I know you're not too happy with me right now, but please let us in. My brother needs protection."

 

He waited and waited what seemed like forever, and still she didn't come to the door. Sam was considering breaking through the glass when finally the lock clicked and she opened the door.

 

"I told you I already gave you everything I could."

 

"We know you have a room full of materials, and you drew protective circles."

 

"I gave you that information," she said.

 

Sam nodded. He had all the information she'd given him. He'd tried it himself but he couldn't shake the gut feeling that she had something here that could help. There had to be more.

 

"Jen, I know you're scared, but please," Sam said, searching her face. "This is my brother. You would do the same for your family."

 

With a sigh, Jen finally nodded. She opened the door and stepped aside so that Sam could enter. He hurried inside, taking a mental inventory of the shop for anything that might help keep Andras at bay a little longer. Then, he followed her into one of the back rooms and saw the circles that Dean had taped the other night.

 

He paused as he studied them. "These look more elaborate."

 

"After you left, I went through my family notes and found more details." She moved a chair out of the way to give them more room. "This middle one is designed especially for Andras."

 

"How long will it protect him?" Sam asked.

 

"Long enough."

 

At this point, any time was good enough for Sam. "I'll go get my brother."

 

Sam rushed out of the shop to the Impala. As he unlocked the trunk, he saw the streetlights flicker.

 

"Come on, Dean."

 

After Sam grabbed his bag, he helped Dean out of the trunk, surprised to see how worn and battered he looked. Dean didn't even argue with him as he leaned on Sam for support.

 

"You look like crap." He grunted as he practically dragged Dean to the door.

 

"I still look better than you on a good day," he said with a weak laugh.

 

Sam forced a small smile, but remained quiet. He was unnerved by Dean's weakening state; he didn't know if this was a side effect of the mandrake combo or if Dean's body was finally deteriorating to the point where Andras could possess him.

 

One thing was for sure; Sam didn't want to find out the hard way.

 

He guided Dean through the herbal shop into the back room where Jen had the circles set up.

 

"This one," she reminded Sam, pointing to the center. "This sigil will keep Andras from entering the circle."

 

Sam hauled Dean over to the circle and allowed him to collapse inside. He stood back and stared, waiting, while he heard Jen preparing some herbal combinations behind him. Already, the color was beginning to return to Dean's semi-conscious face as if the magic of the circle itself was keeping his vitals in order.

 

While Sam was aware that circles could serve the dual purpose of either trapping a demon inside or protecting a person within its lines depending on how the circle was drawn, the latter was not an option they often used or were experienced enough to practice regularly, the Devil's Trap a notable exception. They never really had the need.

 

He was beginning to think he and Dean still had a lot to learn.

 

"I need more Solomon's Seal," Jen said. "Could you grab me some?"

 

He hesitated, glancing back at Dean. He was still only partly conscious, his eyes half shut and his body still, but his breathing was regular. Sam could swear that there was renewed energy in his face, in everything about him.

 

"Where do you keep it?"

 

"Storage room. Third shelf."

 

Sam breathed out and nodded, before he started back to Jen's storage room. Sam fumbled through the jars and bottles, squinted at each and every hand-scribbled label in the low lighting. Frustrated, he tossed his bag on top of a stack of empty jars and started digging deep into the third shelf.

 

"Come on. Come on," he mumbled. Solomon's Seal had to be somewhere.

 

He heard a moaning come from the back room.

 

"Dean!" Sam looked over his shoulder, torn whether to go back or to keep searching. He held his breath, listening for any other sound or indication that Andras was nearby.

 

Everything went quiet.

 

He shoved the jars aside, pressing harder. He was about to start tossing them on the floor when his phone rang.

 

He withdrew the phone and checked the caller ID.

 

Sam sighed with relief. "Bobby."

 

"What the hell you boys doin' in Harmony?"

 

Sam found himself wincing even though Bobby couldn't see him. "Dean thought we could bag a demon, but things got out of hand."

 

"Well of course they did. This ain't just huntin' the local demons and sprites, Sam. This is big league."

 

"Yeah, I know. Look, Bobby, I'm running out of time. Dean's in trouble."

 

"You said somethin' happened but didn't say what." Bobby grew quiet. "Just what have you boys been messin' with?"

 

Sam started to pace the short length of the storage room, his gaze darting to the jars that lined the shelves. "I don't have time to explain, but an incantation has been cast to summon a demon into Dean." He stopped and picked up one of the bottles. "It's an incantation to summon Andras."

 

"Dammit, Sam."

 

"I need something. Anything that will help." Sam grabbed the Solomon's Seal and started to unscrew the lid. "The Lesser Key of Solomon has pages missing; the Key of Solomon has a bunch of blank pages at the end, and Dad's journal doesn't have anything that will help."

 

"Did you ever stop and think that your Daddy left that out for a reason? This kinda thing ain't meant to be found."

 

"There has to be something."

 

"Of course there's somethin' or else these books would be useless. You just got open your eyes."

 

Sam stopped. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, use your head. Why do you think those pages are blank?"

 

Sam blinked. Of course.

 

He slid the jar back onto the shelf and laid his phone on top before he scrambled for his bag. He snatched The Key of Solomon and flipped to the end, holding up the blank pages to the lone bulb that lit the room.

 

Writing. Symbols.

 

He grabbed the phone. "Got it."

 

"You need to keep that safe. Now, you make sure you say it ten times. Don't you forget the first part. You got that?"

 

Sam nodded into the phone. The words would be easy enough to remember. "It says I need some mahogany." He frowned. "Why would I need Solomon's Seal if all I need is mahogany?"

 

"Solomon's Seal? That's used for protection in the home." There was a pause and a slight shuffling on the other side. "Just where're you gettin' all of this?"

 

Sam took the jar of Solomon's Seal and studied the contents closely. He paused, running his fingers over the label.

 

"Sam?"

 

"We found one of Jacque Beauregard's descendants," Sam said, his frown deepening. He picked at the corner of the label, surprised to find the hints of another behind it. "She has a family grimore," he mumbled as he ripped the label off the jar, "but we still haven't found anything to help Dean."

 

Sam's eyes widened. The hasty writing read "henbane."

 

"Bobby…"

 

"You boys got to get outta there. You gotta leave now."

 

"Henbane is a poison." Sam pushed aside the mislabeled jar and went for the mandrake. "Nightshade."

 

"Sam, I'm tellin' ya, you boys need to leave that place now. I've been keeping tabs on that family for years 'cause of that demon, and they ain't alive."

 

"What?"

 

"They're dead. Car accident two months back."

 

Sam struggled to swallow as his throat tightened. Carefully, he put the poisons back on the shelf. He brought his gaze upward, searching for any containers that might hold samples of wood.

 

"You hearin' me?"

 

Sam's roaming gaze finally stopped at an unfinished desk in the corner. He breathed out. "I'm sorry, Bobby. But I have to finish what I started."

 

"Sam!"

 

Sam shut the phone off.

 

When Sam stepped into the back room of the shop, Dean was kneeling inside the confines of the middle circle. His face was flushed and his eyes glassy; Sam wasn't sure if he even knew what was going on around him.

 

The air felt electric.

 

Jen was busy preparing some concoction over on a small table in the corner of the room. Slowly, Sam started towards her, pausing by the circle where Dean knelt. He crouched down, took his knife, and scraped at the edges of the circle to leave three small gaps in the front. In their place, Sam laid small slender strips of wood.

 

He turned his head to stare Dean in the eyes. Dean didn't say anything, but Sam was positive he still saw his brother in there, a spark that burned just below the surface.

 

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never.

 

"Angele dei, qui custos es mei, me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hac nocte illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna," he whispered.

 

Dean's eyelids fluttered and a small sound, like he was choking on his own breath, escaped from his pale lips. Sam fought back the urge to grab his shoulder for support; he couldn't know if anything he did would break what he'd started.

 

He didn't even know what other poisons and magical concoctions Dean had been exposed to since they entered Harmony. At least he could certain of one thing.

 

"Stay in the circle until I'm done," he said, his voice low. "The wood will protect you."

 

Sam slowly rose to his feet and started toward Jen.

 

Jen glanced over her shoulder. "Did you get that Solomon's Seal?"

 

"No."

 

She jerked around, a tight frown on her face. "You need it to help your brother and –" Her gaze darted to the circle and then back to Sam. "What did you do? You broke the circle."

 

"I know."

 

She gave an agitated sigh and took a step forward. "Sam, Andras is here. I know you can feel it. He's waiting. He's going to take your brother. If you want to help, get me the herbs I asked for."

 

He swallowed hard. "I never told you my name."

 

She frowned, an uneasiness seeping into her face. She glanced down at the pieces of wood that lined the front of the circle before facing Sam again.

 

Sam yanked the Colt from his jeans.

 

Before he could pull the trigger, he was thrown back, sailing through the air toward the wall. Sam hit the bookshelf with a crash, collapsing into the mess of old books and papers as the remaining knick knacks rained down on his head. He struggled to get to his feet and take aim, but a crushing pressure pushed down on his chest, pinning him to the spot.

 

The Colt slid across the floor.

 

Sam grunted, trying to reach for the gun, but it was too far out of his grasp. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jen approaching him, her black eyes gleaming with sick delight.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo," he said. To burn. To dissolve. To release. He had to keep proper count. "Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo."

 

"Do you think that is going to work, little Sammy?" She stopped in front of him and offered a cruel smile. "That incantation I gave to your friend? It's through me. Andras is coming back. He's linked to me."

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo."

 

"That wood isn't going to hold. As soon as I remove it, the incantation is done." She crouched in front of him and tapped at his nose. "I have to thank you for this opportunity. We've waited so long.  We could never have done it without the Winchester brothers." She paused, searching the walls and the ceiling. When they started to spark, coursing with threads of red lightning, she grinned. "Do you feel him?"

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo."

 

Jen snarled and waved her other hand. Sam cried out as the pain ripped through him, threatening to cleave his chest in two. Biting back the pain that threatened to rip open his chest, he forced himself to go on.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo."

 

Sam cried again, the heat making him go numb. He reminded himself he had to stay conscious. He couldn't slip away. Not now.

 

"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem.
Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo."

 

The demon in Jen hissed, jerking her head back at the sound of the holy words. The ache in Sam's chest lessened, and he breathed out, trying to focus.

 

Through the white flashes of pain that blurred his vision, Sam saw Dean standing within the circle, their father's journal in hand. Dean could barely stay on his feet, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.

 

"Deus caeli, Deus terrae, humiliter majestati gloriae Tuae supplicamus ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, laqueo, deceptione et nequitia, omnis fallaciae, libera nos, Domine," Dean said. He gasped, took another rattled breath, and continued. "Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae—"

 

"I will not go back!" Jen tore away from Sam and charged Dean.

 

Dean's eyes widened and he started to read faster. Sam balled his fists and fought the pain.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo."

 

Jen threw Dean from the circle. He slid across the floor, nearly crashing into the opposite wall. He scrambled to get back to the pieces of wood that Sam had placed in front of him, but Jen easily kicked it away.

 

"It's over," she said.

 

The lights flickered, the red lightning bolted across the walls to the floor.

 

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!" Dean yelled over the crackling that surrounded them.

 

She twitched and hissed. She only had her master to turn to right now, and Sam wasn't about to invite him into Dean.

 

"Ustulo. Dilabor. Solvo!" Sam shouted.

 

Jen snapped her head to Sam, the fear and rage shaking her frame. With the last moments of the rite upon them, she chose to run, dashing out of the room to get to the store. Sam collapsed as the power that held him vanished. He went for the Colt, and smiled as she became locked in the entryway between the back room and the store.

 

She had been too distracted to notice the trap he'd set for her.

 

Sam aimed the Colt at her head. "Ustulo! Dilabor! Solvo!"

 

There was a heavy charge all around him. Every hair on his body felt like it was standing straight up, and he felt an intense building of raw power, coursing, coursing, ready to break free. Then, with a wail like nothing Sam had ever heard before, the threads of red electricity bound together and shot toward Dean.

 

"Dean!"

 

"Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri!"

 

Jen cried out as the demon flooded from her mouth in a rush of black smoke. At the same moment, the lightning popped and sparked outward, knocking the both of them to the ground. Overhead, the remainder of the red bolts exploded, raining a shower of stinging red sparks down on top of them.

 

The two of them remained silent for what seemed like ages, both too tired to move, and too weary to speak. The weight to the air had evaporated, leaving the distinct scent of ozone. It was a crisp, almost clean feeling, as if a place long burdened by pain and anger was now finally free.

 

Peace touched everything, even the dead body of Jen that lay sprawled across the entryway.

 

Finally, he heard Dean stir beside him. "Exploding demons," he managed to say. "That's a new one, even for us."

 

Sam forced a small smile, but he didn't have the strength to wear it for long. "We almost didn't make it this time. You almost didn't make it."

 

"We always almost never make it, but we're just that good." Dean offered a smile, and winced, touching his cheek.

 

Sam shook his head. One day they were going to make a mistake far worse than any of the ones they'd already made. When that day came, he wasn't sure he was ready to face the consequences.

 

That wasn't the only thing bothering him. "I don't understand," Sam said as he turned to Dean. "How did you hold it off so long?"

 

Dean reached two fingers into his mouth and pulled out a small piece of wood.

 

"You broke off a piece and put it in your mouth?" Sam laughed.

 

"It's called genius, Sammy." He winced. "Ow. I think I got a splinter."

 

"Yeah, that's real genius, Einstein."

 

"Worked, didn't it?"

 

Sam just shook his head.

 

The two of them fell silent once again. Sam knew that Dean was thinking the same thing; whoever that demon was that had possessed Jen had been part of a greater plan, a plan that not only involved both of them, but also exploited their fears and weaknesses.

 

"How long?" Dean asked.

 

"Two months. That's what Bobby told me."

 

"Demons got to be pretty desperate if they're possessing corpses."

 

"Yeah." Sam tapped his leg and looked ahead. "This is bad, Dean. We were targeted especially for this."

 

"We've been targeted before."

 

"This is different," Sam said. "It's very different."

 

"Hey, just relax." Dean forced himself to stand, batting Sam away when he nearly lost his balance. "We got the job done. That's what's important. Now, I think we earned some R&R." He winced. "I'll even let you drive this time."

 

Sam sighed. He was too tired to argue. He cringed, biting back the lingering pain, and stood. He and Dean packed up as quickly and efficiently as they could. Come the morning, they wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. The last thing they needed was to be implicated in another murder.

 

"Hey, did you say a prayer to me?" Dean asked.

 

Sam stared at him. He wanted to say that someone had to pray for him, that someone had to care since Dean didn't seem to give a damn about his life. But not today. Sam was too tired to fight someone else's battles.

 

"It was a plea to guardian angels." He shrugged. "If they exist."

 

Dean eyed him closely, but didn't comment.

 

"Anyway," Dean said as they headed out of the store to the Impala. "Whatever it was, it was a nice touch. But I say we get as much distance between us and this damn town as we can. God knows how many other demons could be working backup here."

 

Sam stopped.

 

Dean turned and arched his eyebrows. "What?"

 

"It's nothing," Sam said quickly. "I just think you're right. We don't know what other demons could be involved."

 

Dean gave him an odd look, one Sam knew was Dean's way of piercing through his façade. Only he didn't say anything this time. He made his way over to the passenger side of the Impala and slid inside, keeping watch on Sam until he joined him.

 

Sam got the point. Eventually, they were going to have some kind of blow out.

 

Sam started the Impala. "You know, with everything that happened, I'm thinking maybe we need something more powerful."

 

"Powerful? What the hell you talking about?"

 

Sam held up the charm that Bobby had given him. "We can lose these, Dean."

 

"So what?" he asked. "Something more permanent?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Like what?" Dean asked. Sam noted the trepidation in his voice.

 

"I don't know. It's just a suggestion."

 

"We'll talk to Bobby. See what he says."

 

"We better give him a call now," Sam said. "Tell him what happened."

 

Dean nodded and took out his cell. "But if he yells at me, I'm blaming you."

 

Sam allowed himself a tempered smile. As Dean dialed Bobby, Sam took a glance at the store through his rear view mirror for one last time. He felt that part of him should feel guilty or concerned for the Beauregard family. Normally, he knew he would. Instead, all he felt was an anger that pulsed just beneath surface.

 

He needed to have some words with Ruby.

 

Sam finished packing the last of their belongings as Dean loaded up the car. He paused, gazing down at the small bottle Jen had given Dean for dandruff. Sam picked it up and ran his fingers over it, before he glanced out the window. Dean was muttering to himself, cursing over the writing on the trunk. Dean slammed it shut and leaned against the side of the car, still talking to himself as he waited for Sam to leave the motel.

 

Despite himself, Sam smiled.

 

Again, he looked down at the bottle. Without a word, he threw it in the trash barrel and listened to it shatter.

 

It was over now.

 

Sam shoved the last of his stuff into his bag. He had just finished zipping it, when he felt a presence in the room. Slowly, he tilted his head and glanced up.

 

"I know you're waiting for me," Ruby said. "Might as well get it over with."

 

Sam set his jaw and stalked toward her. "It was you. You're the one that sent the demon to Bela to summon Andras. You wanted it to take Dean all along so I could do whatever your twisted little mind wanted."

 

Ruby rolled her eyes. "That's the best you can do?"

 

"Stop with the games, Ruby. You told me that you knew how to save Dean. I've done nothing but cooperate."

 

"Cooperate?" She crossed her arms. "You haven't even begun to get your hands dirty."

 

"And you haven't done anything to help Dean."

 

She just sighed. "You can believe whatever you want, but one fact remains."

"What's that?"

 

"Your chance to save Dean? That could have been your one shot."

 

Sam glared at her. "It would have killed him."

 

"If you had listened to me, then maybe you could have controlled it long enough for it to tell you how to save him." She narrowed her eyes and scoffed at him. "Good job, Sam. You could have just signed your brother's death sentence."

 

Sam shook his head. No, he refused to believe that. He hadn't lost his one chance. He knew there had to be other options out there.

 

He turned to face her. "You said there was a way to help him," he said between clenched teeth. "You promised –"

 

"And I delivered. You chose not to listen to me. That's your problem. Not mine."

"There has to be another way."

 

"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "But it's going to cost you."

 

There was always a cost, some price to pay. Sam was growing weary of all the sacrifices. But he wouldn't give up. He wouldn't stop trying. He wasn't a quitter.

 

"What do I need to do?"

 

She raised her eyebrows. "You'll know when the time comes."

 

Sam shook his head. "Look, I need—"

 

"Who you talking to?"

 

Sam jerked and looked behind him. Dean stood in the doorway, watching him closely, a sharp intensity to his hardened face. Sam tried not to look like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, but he knew that Dean could see right through him. When Sam turned away, he realized that Ruby was already gone.

 

He sighed. "It's nothing."

 

"Nothing? Well, that's sure as hell pretty intense for a whole lot of nothing."

 

"Just drop it, Dean." Sam grabbed his bag and brushed past him as he headed for the Impala.

 

"I can't just drop it," Dean said, following Sam out the door. "Is it that demon gal again?"

 

Sam stopped and gave him a pointed glare before he started back towards the car. He threw his bag in the back seat and grabbed the driver's side door handle.

 

Dean grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

 

"Okay. Fine," he said as he spun around. "What did Bela mean when she said you had questions about me?"

 

"Don't change the subject."

 

"No." Sam had had it. "I heard her message, Dean. What kind of questions?"

 

"Questions?" Dean shrugged. "I don't know. That's chick's crazy. She'll say anything."

 

Sam set his jaw and shook his head. "You're lying. You keep lying. I know something is going on. You can try to hide it all you want, but sooner or later I'm going to find out."

 

"Yeah? Like you're not keeping secrets, Sam?" Dean sighed. "Look, let's just leave this mess behind us and get out of here."

 

Sam nodded. "Yeah, all right. Whatever."

 

Sam climbed into the driver seat and slammed the door. While he waited for Dean to climb in, his gaze fell back to the motel. He knew that even after what happened here in Harmony, that he wouldn't give up on finding a way to save Dean's soul. But he also knew he couldn't do it without Dean's help. He just didn't know how to tackle that problem yet.

 

And Ruby. He still couldn't figure if she was friend or foe. He wanted to believe that she held the key to saving Dean. He wanted to believe that she was on their side, but there was always this voice, somewhere in the back of his mind, whispering warnings into his ear, urging him to be cautious.

 

He would ignore them. He would keep ignoring them like he had since the day he had met her.

 

Caution wasn't something he could afford to waste time on right now.

 

Yet, despite all his convictions, there was one lingering doubt that outweighed them all.

 

Dean shut the door. "Ready?"

 

Sam nodded and started the Impala. "Let's go."

 

As they pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road, Sam vowed to become even more dedicated than before. He just hoped that for their sakes, out of everything they left behind in Harmony, Dean's one chance at salvation wasn't one of them.

 

THE END

 

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