This was getting ridiculous. Rich had just spent the last hour and a half getting into his car, sitting in it for a few minutes, then getting out of it again and going back into the house. Then a few minutes later, he would be back at the damn car again. Rich was sure that any prying neighbours witnessing the scene (he was almost certain Mrs Davis at number four had been watching him through the cracks of her curtains) would’ve suggested he might be suffering a mental breakdown. Either that, or he was remarkably absent minded and was forever traipsing back to the house for some forgotten item.

 

Going to Sam and confessing his complicity in the Winchester brothers’ current legal predicament – the elder in an asylum and the younger in foster care – and to swear his undying and unadulterated love and admiration for his Sam (and maybe serenade his love with his dulcet tones) had seemed like such a good idea at the time. When he was drunk.

 

It had taken him the rest of the day and the most of the next to sober up. And when he was, he began to second guess his decision to visit Sam. What if Sam’s new foster parents - the Hendersons - wouldn’t let him see Sam, and he was just setting himself up for disappointment? What if, after hearing what Rich had done, Sam didn’t want to have anything to do with Rich again? And even worse: what if Sam simply laughed off his advances? Rich didn’t think he could cope with the rejection.

 

Not wanting to deal with any of these issues, Rich had reasoned that it was too late to be making social calls anyway. He didn’t want Sam’s new foster parents to slam the door in his face at his rudeness.

 

By the next day, Rich had run out of excuses. But indecision was still plaguing him, prompting his ‘entering the car, exiting the car’ dilemma. His father would have just shaken his head. “Richie, you make a careful, reasoned decision,” he had always said. “Then you stick with it. Business opportunities go down the drain if you’re forever dilly-dallying.” God he missed his parents.

 

Sighing, he got out of the car and went back into the house for the umpteenth time. But his grand uncle must’ve noticed his antics because he gave Rich a funny look. Rich could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his grand uncle debated whether he should sit Rich down for a ‘talk’ or to let Rich work things out on his own. As talking was never his forte, Rich back pedalled out the door he came in from, muttering about realising he hadn’t forgotten anything after all.

 

As he leaned against the shut door behind him, he breathed heavily. There was nothing for it now…

 

***

 

Two days of torture. Two days of hell. And Sam Winchester was ready to end it. His brother had told him what to do and by God, Sam would make Dean proud. With his powers slowly strengthening, Sam’s stamina was improving, and the telekinetic exercises which once had him trembling like a leaf were no more than simple parlour tricks to him now. Although pleased with the progress, Yellow Eyes still believed Sam had a while to go before he could, as it put it, “join the big leagues.” But Sam was pleased with the progress for an entirely different reason. Not because he found telekinesis a nifty power to have, but due to the fact that his mastery over it had left him less addle brained that he had been at the outset. Giving him the time and opportunity to plan his escape.

 

All he needed now was to wait for the demon to come along and spring the trap.

 

***

 

Luckily, Sam did not have to wait long. He heard the demon before he saw it, the demon’s sing song voice chilling him to the bone, becoming louder and louder as it approached Sam’s bedroom.

 

“Saaaaaammmmmmyyyyyyy!”

 

Scrambling to his feet and shaking more violently than a drug addict suffering from withdrawal, Sam prayed that his plan would work. Because this was the only chance he had. If he failed to trap and exorcise the demon now, he would never get another chance. In fact, if he failed now, he would more likely than not, never have a chance to do anything ever again.  

 

Hearing the rattle of the door handle, Sam stroked his temples in preparation for the blinding headache that was sure to follow, reaching deep within himself and flipping that invisible switch. The air around him seemed to cackle with energy as he focused his mind on the bedroom door, willing it to remain shut. Sam knew he was playing a dangerous game, goading the demon to anger, but this was not the time to err on the side of caution. Not if he wanted his freedom.

 

“Sammy,” Yellow Eyes sounded frighteningly patient, “as much as I would like to indulge this bout of adolescent rebellion, we do have a lot of work to do. Or do I have to reintroduce you to the closet?” To Sam’s great dismay, the demon had been well apprised of Sam’s intense fear of enclosed spaces, and the particular closet in question had been exceptionally small. With those walls continually feeling like they were closing in on him – and Sam had a sneaking suspicion the demon had done something to compound that impression – Sam hadn’t lasted long before he was begging and screaming to be let out. It was an experience he dreaded repeating.

 

His concentration wavered.

 

And it was all the opportunity the demon needed.

 

The door burst open with such force that Sam was swept off his feet, flying backwards and hitting the wall hard. His head snapping up, Sam met the furious eyes of a very pissed off demon in the doorway. If it had been a cartoon character, there would have been steam coming out of its ears.

 

Ignoring the wetness at the back of his head, Sam clambered to his feet, stumbling like a drunken sailor. Was it just him, or were there three demons now? Sam shook his head, bringing the demon back into focus.

 

“I’m disappointed Sammy.” As Sam had hoped, Yellow Eyes stormed straight into the room, its anger at Sam’s defiance clouding its judgement to look for anything out of the ordinary – a practice the demon had taken up stringently ever since Sam had managed to control his telekinesis for the first time. Yellow Eyes had left him to rest, but when it returned, it had barged loudly into the room; and in surprise, Sam had telekinetically thrown a table at it. Unfortunately, it left him with one very angry demon, infuriated by what it perceived to be an escape attempt from Sam and earning himself several dark and long hours in the closet. It had also grown more weary of Sam after that incident, making it more difficult for Sam to implement his brother’s instructions.

 

Yellow Eyes made no more than three steps into the room before it stopped short, a strange look crossing its face. Hazel and yellow eyes met across the room, before as one, they turned upwards, their combined gaze settling on the Devil’s Trap drawn on the ceiling above the demon.

 

“Oh, I’m trapped. I’m so scared,” the demon said sarcastically, “whatever do you plan to do with me Sammy?”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “Before my dad died,” (Sam refused to say before his brother murdered his dad) “he taught Dean and me something.” Drawing a deep breath, he began reciting from memory. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…”

 

The demon grunted in pain, and with a breathless voice, it lashed out with the only weapon it had. “What do you hope this will accomplish? Your brother’s in a loony bin. He’s never getting out.”

 

Refusing to take the bait, Sam continued, emboldened by the pain beginning to etch itself on Yellow Eyes’ face. “Omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omni legio, omnis congregation et secta diabolica.”

 

“You’ve got no one. What would you do? Where would you go? I’m all you’ve got.” The scathing words – aimed at unsettling and demoralising – failed to achieve its full effect, betrayed by the weakness in its voice.

 

Spirits soaring, Sam only began chanting louder. “In nomine et virtue Domini Nostri -”

 

“Hell won’t be enough to keep me! I’ll just crawl out again, faster than it’ll take to snap your neck!” It snarled, its darkening eyes clearly conveying the unspoken message that Sam would never be safe from it.

 

Sam nearly faltered there, but caught himself just in time. Dean promised Sam that he would come for him. And Dean always kept his promises. Sure, Dean had expressed his doubts, but Sam had every confidence in Dean’s ability to break out from the hospital imprisoning him. When that happened, Dean would protect him from this demon threat. There was nothing to worry about because his brother could and would take care of it. His brother took care of everything. “Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis.”

 

Yellow Eyes threw its head back and shrieked in agony, black smoke billowing from its open mouth and disappearing through the ceiling. Mr Henderson blinked several times, looked completely and utterly confused for a moment, before his eyes rolled up and he collapsed with a heavy thud onto the floor.

 

Sam sank to his knees. Dean had told him to exorcise the demon. But he didn’t tell Sam where to go from there.

 

TBC

*A/N – Btw, this is the exorcism Sam used on Meg in the Season 1 Finale!!! (Although I didn’t have Sam recite the whole exorcism – that would’ve been too long and boring!)