A/N: This one takes place shortly after 'Born Under A Bad Sign' for the boys, and some time in Season 5 for SG-1. It's hard to write a canon-compliant crossover when aliens are real in one and not in another...So yeah, SG-1 canon is kind of shot at the end here, but I think Supernatural could carry on as normal. Ssshh. It's fine.

Dean came to again to the sound of someone crying. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by people, all huddled together in the corner of a large room, all shackled either at the wrist or ankle to wall behind them. There were about twenty of them, and Sam was not among them.

"Sam!" he yelled.

"Ssh!" hissed the woman beside him. "Do you want them to get mad again?"

Dean looked up and saw the them she was talking about. Large men in metal armor with helmets shaped like bulls and long staffs in their hands. Oh, yeah. He remembered these guys. Those staffs packed a pretty good wallop from the heavy end. Although, Sam had been with him when he'd been on the receiving end of that…

He scanned the room around him, momentarily surprised. The walls were sleek black metal or stone—he couldn't tell—but the effect with the high lights and the deep blue cloth draped along the wall was at once elegant and foreboding. He felt like he was in a courtroom or a palace or something. At the opposite end of the room from him were two elaborate gold thrones on a dais, one larger than the other. In the middle of the room was a long stone table. A group of the armored guys was clustered around it, as well as some barely dressed young men and women holding various bowls and torches. A woman in extravagant blue robes and jewelry approached the table. Great. Looked like they were mixed up with some weirdo cult again.

When the woman reached the table, she gestured impatiently with her hands and the ring of onlookers backed away. Now that he had a clear view of the table, he could see what was on it, and surprise, surprise, it was his little brother, bound to the table hand and foot and completely naked. Did he give off some sort of signal or something that just begged freaky cultists to mess with him?

"Sam!" He called again. Sam jerked on the table and twisted towards him, but the woman barked out a command in some language he didn't know, and Sam arched his back up and cried out. She raised her hand above his brother, and a red stone set into the jewelry on her hand started to glow. The cuffs snapped off and Sam, completely rigid, rose up on the table and then to his feet. He stood perfectly still, not speaking and breathing shallowly, but he looked terrified. Whatever that jewel was must be keeping him in place. Dean twisted in the cuff at his wrist. Was this chick a witch? Was this maybe a coven instead of a cult? Or both? Either way, this was looking messier.

The woman kept the hand with the glowing jewel up, keeping Sam in place as she looked him up and down. She stepped closer and traced a finger across Sam's tattoo, and Sam flinched, but couldn't back away. She grinned. "This one," she said. "Jaffa." She lowered her hand and Sam shivered, and the armored men grabbed his arms and forced him down onto the table, on his stomach this time, and recuffed him.

"Dean?" Sam called, twisting again in Dean's direction.

"Silence!" barked the woman. She held up her hand again and Sam choked and lay down again.

"Sammy?! You leave him alone!" Dean yelled. "Get off of him!"

One of the armored guys came over and hit Dean in the stomach with the butt of his staff. "You will be silent or you will be dead," he warned, then walked away.

Dean curled up in pain, moaning and tugging on his shackle. It was too tight around his wrist—even breaking his thumb wouldn't slide his hand out of there. All he could do was watch.

A group of the young people had gathered at Sam's feet, and two more of them were helping an old man into the room. The woman turned to watch him, keeping her hand extended to hold Sam in place. When the old man reached the table, the girl escorting him put out a hand to stop him, and Dean realized he was blind. He put out his hands and leaned against the table near Sam's head. Sam was shaking and breathing hard, unable to see what was going on above him.

"Begin," the woman said, and a shiver ran down Dean's spine.

The old man arched once, twice, as if he was having a seizure. He made a choking sound like he was going to be sick, then Dean thought he might be sick as a pink, hissing, spined head appeared in the man's mouth. It moved out of his mouth, pulling a long, snake-like body with it. "No," Dean gasped, as the snake thing slithered out of the man's mouth and landed on Sam's back. Sam shuddered as the thing made its way up his back and then screamed (drowning out Dean's own scream) when it burrowed into the back of his neck.

The old man slumped to the floor, and the woman pulled her hand away, watching Sam as he writhed and screamed on the table while the thing disappeared under his skin. All of a sudden he went quiet and still, and the woman took a step back, waving her hand at the cuffs, which snapped open. Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead, Dean begged. The muscles in Sam's back rippled and he pushed himself up from the table into a seated position. He rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders as if he was trying on a new jacket and wanted to make sure it fit.

"Well?" the woman asked.

Sam raised his head, and Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach as Sam blinked and his eyes flashed a deep gold. He smiled at the woman. "It is done, my queen," he said in a deep, reverberating, very un-Sam voice.

She smiled. "Does it please you?"

"Very much, my queen," the thing in Sam replied. He ran his hands across his chest like he was seeing it for the first time, then held out one hand and watched the fingers curl into a fist. He looked back up at the woman. "You seem quite pleased with it too," he added with a smirk.

"I did select the one I liked best," she smiled back at him. "Though there are others, if you wish to compare," she added with a wave of the hand at the people in the corner.

Not-Sam barely glanced in their direction. "No. This one will do very well." He inclined his head. "Thank you, my queen."

"You are most welcome, my love," she replied. She drew a finger up the muscles in his arm, along his neck and down his jawline. "Oh, yes," she said. "I think it will do very well indeed." She turned to the people standing at the foot of the table. "Slave," she snapped. "Robe him." She gestured at Not-Sam. "And you," she clicked her fingers at another. "Get rid of that." She waved a hand at the body of the old man on the floor. Dean couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not. They jumped to obey, two of them picking up the old man's body and carrying it away. Two others sprang forward as Not-Sam stood and held out his arms, covering him with a rich blue robe.

"Do you need some time, my love?" the queen asked.

Not-Sam rolled his neck again. "I believe the two of us could use some time to get to know each other," he said with an unpleasant grin. "He's not taking this very well."

"All the more fun for you," the woman smiled. "Very well. Will you be well enough in time for Council?"

"Indeed, my queen."

"Then I shall see you there," she said and turned to the armored guys. "Jaffa! Dispose of the rest." She waved a hand at Dean's corner.

"A moment, my queen," the thing in Sam said, stepping closer to her. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

"Kree!" she yelled at the advancing armored guys—Jaffa, apparently. They stopped. "Bring that one," she gestured at Dean. "Kill the rest."

The people around Dean started screaming as the Jaffa lowered their staffs and fired bolts of energy into the crowd. One of the Jaffa uncuffed Dean from the wall and dragged him away. Not-Sam disappeared through an arched doorway, the woman was speaking with one of the slaves, and the Jaffa was hauling Dean through another door. "You didn't have to do that!" Dean yelled. "Why kill all those people?!" The Jaffa didn't answer, just dragging him along and then tossing him into an empty room. Bars slammed down across the door, locking him in.

It had started off as a missing persons case. People were going missing in Colorado, sometimes in groups of twos or threes, always leaving a sign of a struggle behind. Bobby thought it looked like their kind of thing, and since Sam and Dean were in the area…The last group to go missing had been in one of the parks, while Sam and Dean had been on the road. Figuring an hours-old vanishing was a good place to start, they'd hiked out to their last known location. Some giant guys in metal armor had shown up, and Dean didn't remember much other than waking up sore with the feeling like he'd been electrocuted. One of the armored guys showed up again and started dragging Sam's unconscious body away. Dean jumped at him and got the wide end of the guy's staff to the back of his head. Next thing he knew, he was chained to a wall and Sam was laid out naked on a table. And the snake-thing was…..

"SAM!" Dean shot upright. He'd fallen asleep on the floor of his cell. He pressed a hand to his still-pounding head. Yeah. He was pretty sure he had a concussion.

"You called?" a cocky, vaguely familiar voice spoke from the door. Dean spun around, wincing as he did so.

"You're not Sam," he growled. Not-Sam was standing at the door of his cell. He was wearing a richly-embroidered sleeveless blue tunic and black pants, both trimmed in gold, his hair was slicked back away from his face in a way Sam would have hated, and he was wearing a ridiculous amount of jewelry for a dude.

"You're right," he said in that deep, weirdly echo-y voice, smiling as he did so. He looked down at his right hand and flexed his fingers. He was wearing one of those ring-bracelet things with the stone in the middle, just like that woman's. "I am growing very fond of him, though." He looked back up. "You can call me Geb."

"Geb?" Dean asked, thrown off-guard. With all this pomp and ceremony, he was expecting something a little more…something.

"Lord Geb, actually, but something tells me you're not going to go for that," he said. A dangerous smile grew on his lips. "You'll learn to, if you live long enough."

"Uh huh. Listen, 'Lord Geb'," Dean started, making quotation marks in the air. "What the hell are you? And what have you done to Sam?"

Geb's smiled widened. "I'm a Goa'uld. And I am Lord Geb, god of the earth. I make the ground quake, and the mountains tremble and fall into the sea."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "So, you're some kind of pagan god? What the hell are you doing in my brother?"

"Oh, I am nothing like the puny little beings that you hunt. I fly among the stars and shake the earth of a hundred worlds and bring them into submission." His eyes flashed gold again.

"Are you some kind of demon?" Dean asked. The eyes sure seemed familiar, but everything else was way off from what he knew of their old nemesis.

Geb laughed. "I've been called that, certainly, but no. Not in the way you mean. You witnessed the implantation, I believe?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Dean thought back to the snake and the table and his stomach rolled. "Yeah. And you seriously call it that? That's kind of disgusting."

"Then you know that I am flesh and blood. A living creature, more powerful than anything you have ever known, including 'Old Yellow-Eyes'. As for your brother, he is my new host. Humans, unfortunately, aren't exactly long-lived, as I'm sure you know. My old body was wearing thin, and so my queen, Nut, procured a new one for me."

"Well, you're sure as hell not keeping Sam's."

Geb smirked and leaned against the doorframe, folding Sam's arms across his chest. "And how do you intend to get me out?"

"What if I let you take me? You let him go and you can have me."

Geb laughed delightedly. "Oh, there it is! I was wondering how long it would take to get there. You get that sometimes with humans. It's so adorable. You don't hear it as much from people who know more about us, but knowing you, that wouldn't stop you anyway."

"Is that a yes?"

"Oh, no," Geb shook his head. "I like it in here."

"Isn't it better to have a willing host?" Dean pressed.

Geb shook his head again. "Doesn't really matter. You people aren't hard to control. You all put up a fight. Some more than others, like Sammy here. But you all lose."

"So, Sam's still in there? He's not…" Dean hated that Sam was living through possession again, but he was relieved. There'd been something niggling in the back of his mind, a fear that maybe whatever they'd done had swapped Sam with Geb and left him in the old man's dying body.

"Oh, he's here." Geb tapped the side of his head. "Locked up where he can't get in the way, railing and fighting and using language not fit to address a king. He hasn't started crying yet—that's my favorite part. So far, I've been letting him watch. Oh," he chuckled. "If you could hear him now."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean growled.

Geb looked into Dean's eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

Dean stared him down. "Wait," he asked. "You're a king? So, what was all that 'my queen', 'my love' crap? Shouldn't you be able to call her Nut or whatever her name is? Hang on," he continued with a smirk. "Does she outrank you?"

"Oh, yes, very funny, a king who's underneath the queen," Geb replied with a roll of his eyes. "As if I haven't heard that before. Let me tell you something, little human," he said, his voice going low and dangerous. "Goa'uld politics and alliances are a cut-throat, deadly game. I have no desire to be subjected to near-constant attempts on my life. As second only to the queen, I have all the power I desire, the comfort of a royal position, and the safety of not being a target. It works well for me." He straightened and glared at Dean. "And you would do well to remember that the only reason you are alive and not burning with the rest of the cast-offs is that I told the queen it might be entertaining to keep my host's brother around for a while."

He flicked the hand with the red stone and Dean was flung through the air and pinned to the back wall of his cell. He coughed as an invisible weight pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe. "And as such," Geb went on in a hard voice. "It might be wise to refrain from mocking me." He held him there a little longer, and just as Dean's vision was starting to gray out from the lack of oxygen, the weight was gone and he dropped heavily to the floor.

He groaned and coughed, lifting his aching head. "I'll be back later," Geb said, spinning on his heel and walking away. "Don't wait up, big brother!" he called in a sing-song voice as he disappeared.

"Gonna kill that freaking snake," Dean mumbled to the floor, letting his head drop. He smiled a little before passing out again. Old Geb may have been happy not to have people trying to assassinate him, but it still looked like he'd touched a nerve.

Somewhere confined and cold, Sam screamed into the darkness. This was…this was different than Meg. Meg had filled him, compressed him, made him formless, just a thought inside his own body. Sometimes, when she wanted him to see things, he was aware, and there, and almost a person again. Most of the time, he was in a haze, floating in and out of consciousness or existence, getting only fleeting glimpses, words, people, feelings.

Geb was different. Sam was locked up and tucked away, but very much there. It was like his body was a car, and he was tied up in the back seat watching Geb drive. He saw everything, he felt everything, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it, no matter how much he fought for control of his voice or his hands. He could even, if he thought about it (and he tried so very hard not to), feel Geb's physical body inside of his own, wrapped around his spine and tucked up against his brain. It made him nauseous, but Geb had control of his stomach along with everything else, and so he wasn't. He was mentally nauseous, but not physically. That was a weird feeling.

"You'll get used to it," Geb said in that smug, condescending tone he always used.

"I'm going to kill you," Sam replied. "Somehow, I'm going to get you out of here, and I'm going to stomp you into a pulp on the floor."

"You know, I had Asha for almost 350 years before he gave out on me," Geb mused. "I remembered the fighting, but I'd forgotten about the desperation and how much I enjoyed it. You're really trying, there, aren't you? Go on. Move something."

Sam had been trying. He hadn't stopped trying. He was wearing himself out with the effort of trying to move his hand, or just control his breathing.

Geb laughed. "You're just so cute, you know that? Let's talk to Dean again. See if he gets himself thrown into another wall. That was fun, right? But first, let's see what you do when I do this."

This whole time, Geb had been talking with Nut, and Sam had been trying to figure out how he was managing to fully converse with both of them at the same time. He'd kind of hoped he could be distracting, be annoying, be anything, but no dice. He hated how helpless he was.

And then Nut finished whatever she'd been saying, smiled, and leaned towards him, and suddenly Sam could feel her lips on his and her tongue in his mouth, and he was gagging and trying to back away, to run, to move, but her hands were in his hair, and his hands were on her back, and Geb was laughing at Sam and kissing her harder, and Sam screamed again.

When Dean woke up again, his head was starting to feel better. Well, less concussed, anyway. There was still a headache from the oxygen deprivation, but that wasn't as bad. He got up and walked around, doing a few exercises and stretching out his aching back. The cell was secure—solid stone walls and no means of exit except for the barred doorway. As far as holding cells went, it actually wasn't bad. It was all clean, light-colored stone. Well lit. Warm enough. And it seemed to be rat-free, which was always a plus. Sure, it could have done with some padding on the stone bench at the back, but it was a jail cell. You couldn't be too picky.

The only way out being the front door limited his possibilities for escape. Jumping whoever opened the door next seemed to be the only option, and that didn't seem like an awesome idea. Ever since Sam had gotten taller than him, he'd teased him about being short, but Dean was still a fairly big guy. Everyone he'd seen here, on the other hand, was freaking massive. He didn't think jumping one of the Jaffa would do anything but earn him another concussion.

Even if he did escape, though, he wasn't going anywhere without Sam. So, he would wait. Bide his time and study routines, and wait for someone to slip up. Everyone did eventually.

A while later, one of the Jaffa came and got him and hauled him out of his cell. His grip on his arm was so tight that by the time they got to where they were going, Dean had lost all feeling in his hand. He was in another large room. It was bigger than the one from earlier, and brighter. The walls were light-gold paneling, inscribed with bands of what looked like hieroglyphics. At one end were two thrones, again, one bigger than the other—probably Nut's. The room was open and empty of any other furnishings except for a table with glowing lights on it. The wall behind the table was one giant window, and Dean drew in a breath of surprise. It must be night, but they had to be really high up—there was nothing in his view but stars.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" Geb said from behind him as he strolled into the room. "Put him over there," he added to the Jaffa, gesturing towards the thrones.

The Jaffa shoved him down onto the steps next to the smaller throne, reached behind it and grabbed a chain with a metal collar attached which he snapped shut around Dean's neck. Dean jerked, but the chain was too short to allow him to stand, forcing him to sit beside the throne. "Seriously?" he asked, raising a contemptuous eyebrow as Geb sat in the throne beside him.

"It's like a dog collar. You're getting that, right?" Geb smirked, patting Dean on the head.

"Get your hands off me!"

Geb ruffled his hair again in response. "I thought you might like to see what your little brother is up to now that he's the body of a god. We're holding court today, and I've been told we've got someone accused of treason on the list. It's going to be fun."

Before Dean could say anything, Nut entered the room, followed by a pair of slave girls. Geb got to his feet and gave a half bow, waiting until she was seated before he resumed his throne.

"Bring in the accused!" commanded Nut, her voice deep and echoing like Geb's. A Jaffa was brought in and made to kneel in front of them. He wore no helmet, and he had an odd symbol tattooed on his forehead. Nut began to question him, with occasional input from Geb, and the Jaffa answered, clearly afraid. Dean had no idea what was going on—the words and names were all strange to him, but as best he could tell, there'd been some kind of battle and this dude had messed up. He was finally sentenced to demotion and a week's imprisonment. After the sentence was declared, Geb got to his feet, carrying a black metal bar that he jabbed into the Jaffa's stomach. The Jaffa screamed and fell to his knees, electricity crackling around him and orange light sparking from the end of the bar and pouring out of his mouth. Dean swallowed hard.

Geb pulled away and the Jaffa slumped unconscious to the floor, a thin trickle of blood running from his nose. "Take this fool to the lower cells," he ordered, and two of the Jaffa at the back of the room came forward and dragged him away.

"What…" Dean swallowed again. "What the hell was that?"

Geb took his seat, laying the stick across his lap. "Standard punishment. You'll be seeing a lot of that today. Now, ssh." He flicked his hand at Dean and he choked on the words and the breath in his throat. He leaned back against the wall behind the throne, glaring at Geb and massaging his throat.

Over the course of the next few hours, more people were brought in—mostly Jaffa—and given various sentences and punishments. None of the people or places they talked about made any sense to Dean, and he was starting to wonder how long he'd been unconscious that first time and how far away he'd been taken.

True to his word, Geb did use that juiced-up cattle prod on nearly everyone sentenced that day. Watching it over and over again did nothing to make it easier for Dean to see, and he wondered how Sam was doing in there, and if Geb was making him watch as he hurt all those people.

The last case they saw was one of the slave girls. She didn't look nervous or keep her eyes down at her feet like the other slaves Dean had seen, but stared defiantly up at Nut and Geb from where she knelt on the floor. Dean guessed this was the traitor Geb had mentioned. Again, lots of incomprehensible words and places, but there was something about illegal communications and spying and undermining, and Dean got the gist. The way Geb had talked about Goa'uld politics made it seem like there was more than just him and Nut, and this girl was apparently part of some faction called the Tok'Ra. Were they nice Goa'ulds? Or were they equally as awful, and just at cross purposes with Geb and Nut? It was hard to tell, but Dean was rooting for her. Enemy of my enemy and all that. Maybe back in the cells the two of them could work something out.

Whatever the Tok'Ra were exactly, it was obvious that Nut and Geb absolutely loathed them. And it didn't help their hatred at all that the girl refused to answer any of their questions. Finally, Nut waved an impatient hand and stood. "Enough. She's all yours, my love," she told Geb. "Learn what you can. I will go and speak to the other slaves before my conference with Ba'al."

"They know nothing," the girl said, looking worried for the first time.

"I'm sure they don't," Nut responded in a sugary sweet, dangerous voice.

"Will my presence be required at the conference, my queen?" asked Geb, polishing the side of his stick on the hem of his vest.

"No." She smiled indulgently, like a mother granting a child a special treat. "You can take your time."

Geb grinned widely and inclined his head, and Nut smiled and swept out of the room. "Now, Shol'va," he spat, turning back to the girl. "Let's try this again."

A cold feeling of dread settled over Sam as he felt Geb's sheer delight rippling through him. This court session had been one of the worst things Sam had ever experienced. He'd fought Geb harder than he ever had as he swung that stick into person after person, torturing them into unconsciousness. If he ever slept again, their screaming faces would visit his nightmares for a long time. No one had died at his hands yet, but the hatred and glee pouring off of Geb told him that was about to change.

"Stop it, just stop it," he begged as Geb hefted the stick in his hand.

Geb chuckled. "Oh, Sammy, Sammy, I'm not going to stop. I'm going to enjoy every second of this, and you're going to watch until the life goes out of this traitor's eyes. And Dean? Dean is going to watch his brother's hands kill what he sees as a helpless little girl. You remember Steve Wandell? This is going to be so much better."

Geb started with the stick, always stopping right before the girl passed out. He used the thing on his hand, tossing her, choking her, pressing her into the floor, and sometimes just…hurting her. He used his fists and he used his feet, and Sam felt every time his body connected with hers, felt her ribs cracking under his boots, and the bones in her cheek shatter under his knuckles. The questions Geb asked between strikes were a formality—she gave up very little, and Geb didn't seem to mind. He wasn't expecting to learn anything anyway. This was about the pain, and any information was just a bonus. He was reveling in this, Sam feeling it as strongly as if it was his own emotion, and wishing he had enough control of his body to be sick.

Eventually he stopped fighting and tried to just close his eyes, but Geb wanted him to watch. Trapped in his own head, his eyes went where Geb wanted them to, and he wanted them on the girl, bruised and broken and starting to choke on her own blood. "Just stop," he asked.

"Okay," Geb replied, and reached out one of Sam's large hands and wrapped it around the girl's throat. Sam felt his fingers squeezing and crushing, slick with blood, and then Geb stood. "All done."

"Throw that out of an airlock or something," Sam heard him tell one of the guards. His hand waved vaguely at the dead girl. "Hmm," Geb said to Sam as drops of blood flew off his hand when he waved it. He cast his eyes down at the blood-spattered blue robes. "We should probably go take a shower, shouldn't we?"

Dean sat alone in his cell again, head down in his hands. He knew it wasn't Sam that had killed that girl, but he couldn't get the picture of his little brother's face split into a wide grin as he tortured her out of his head. Sam's face should never look like that. "Sammy, I'm so sorry," he whispered. He'd promised to keep Sam safe, swore to him up and down after the nightmares after Meg that he would never let anything do that to his little brother again. "Death is too good for that snake," he spat. When he got that thing out of his brother, he was going to start at its tail and chop it into tiny little pieces, taking as long as he could before he got up to its heart—if it even had one.

"Hello, Dean." Geb was at the door of the cell again, hands behind his back and bouncing on his toes a little bit. Dean was relieved to see he had changed—the Tok'Ra girl's blood had been splattered all over him.

"You're a sick, twisted monster, you know that?" Dean spat.

"So I'm told," Geb said nonchalantly. "That was entertaining, wasn't it? That side of ruling has always been my job—Nut doesn't like to get her hands dirty. It's been a few months, though, what with my old host dying out on me. Good to be back in the saddle again. I've got to tell you, though, Sam didn't enjoy that very much."

"What, you were expecting him to?"

"No, not really. They do sometimes, after a while. I get the feeling Sam's not going to take that route, though."

"What do you want?"

"Well, to tell you the truth," Geb started conversationally. "I'm still putting this body through its paces. It's working well for me so far—I'm quite pleased with the performance, so I thought while I'm on a roll, why not work on the mind as well?"

"What?"

"I told you Sam is a fighter. And while that's all good fun, he hasn't broken yet. I want to see if I can make that first little crack today. That's where you come in."

Dean took an involuntary step back. "That doesn't sound good."

Geb smirked. "For you? It's not."

"No!" Sam yelled. He knew where Geb was going with this, knew what he was hiding behind his back. "Don't do this! Please, don't do this! What do you want from me?! I'll—don't, please, just don't."

"Oh, Sam," Geb chuckled. "This is exactly what I want from you."

"NO!" Sam cried as Geb swung his hand around and connected the electric prod with Dean's midsection. Dean screamed and dropped to the floor. "DEAN!"

Geb laughed and pulled the stick back, just giving Dean time to breathe before jabbing it into him again. Dean howled in agony, and this close to him, Sam could smell the burning flesh.

"STOP IT!" he yelled, fighting with everything in him. He thought maybe his hand twitched a little, but Geb carried on, pressing the stick in harder. "Please," Sam whispered.

Geb pulled the stick away. "What was that?"

"Please," Sam begged again. "Please don't hurt him." His voice wavered, and if he'd had control over his eyes, tears would have been pooling in the corners.

He felt Geb grinning with glee. "Oh, there it is. Ha! Oh, those first tears are always the sweetest. Alright. We can be done for today. Except…" He reached down and gave Dean one final jolt and listened to him scream. "There." He pulled the stick away. "That was for a minute ago. Don't think I didn't feel that little twitch. And don't you dare do it again."

Dean lay on the floor, twitching and moaning, a trickle of blood running from his nose, and Sam drank in the sight of him until Geb pulled his head away. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam whispered.

"Big brother can't hear you, Sammy," Geb teased as they walked away. "He's got other things on his mind right now."

It had been maybe a couple of days since the girl had died when Dean got some company. (Time was a little fuzzy since he knew he'd been passed out on the floor for a while.) Geb had been by once or twice since the cattle prod incident—he'd gotten thrown into the wall again, which was infinitely better than electrocution—but he didn't really count that as company. This was a guy a few years older than Dean, wearing green khaki that looked like some kind of uniform. He had a black eye, blood dripping from his nose, and he collapsed as soon as the Jaffa let go of him. Looked like he'd been on the receiving end of Geb's electric stick.

Dean waited until the Jaffa was gone and the bars were back down before sliding over to him. "Hey, buddy," he began, kneeling at his side. "You okay?"

The man sighed and groaned, moving one arm to hold his stomach. "I'll live." He opened his eyes and squinted up at Dean. "Who are you?"

"Dean. You?"

"Daniel." He blinked and studied Dean, narrowing his eyes. "You don't…you don't look like you should be here," he said at last. "I mean, I can't see you particularly well right now, but still…Where are you from?"

Dean shrugged. "Kansas. More or less."

"Kansas?" Daniel sounded surprised. He started to prop himself up on his elbows. "Ow," he hissed.

"You wanna lay down on that bench back there?" Dean asked.

Daniel waved a hand. "No. I'm just gonna stay here for now. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "Hiking with my brother in Colorado, then zap! I'm waking up here. You seem fairly calm about all this—do you know what these Goa'uld things are?"

"We've met," Daniel said. "We're not friends."

"Can't imagine why," Dean said. He looked down at Daniel thoughtfully. "Are you one of those Tok'Ra guys?"

Daniel's eyes snapped back open in surprise. "How do you know about them?"

"There was one the other day, she…well, I didn't understand most of what was going on, but it seemed like the Goa'ulds really had it out for them."

"Yeah, they do," Daniel sighed. "I'm not one, but we work together sometimes. That girl, is she here somewhere?"

"Um, no. Geb, ah…well, he worked her over pretty good. She didn't make it."

"Crap," Daniel sighed, shutting his eyes. "We heard that she'd been compromised, we were supposed to come get her out."

Dean studied him for a long moment. "Okay, who are you?"

Daniel sighed again and rubbed hand across his eyes. "I'm with the Air Force. I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you, really, but you're here, so obviously the whole classified thing is kind of shot. The girl was collecting information on Geb. He does weapons research—bombs and nukes and energy weapons that can wipe a country off the map."

Dean huffed an unamused laugh. "God of the earth," he said to himself.

"What?"

"Oh, he went on this rant the other day about being the god of the earth and making mountains shake and crap."

"Yeah, well, the Goa'uld aren't exactly what you'd called modest. They're powerful beings who set themselves up as gods," Daniel explained. "Geb is the Egyptian god of the earth, consort of Nut, goddess of the sky. She's the more powerful one—I think this is her ship—but he's pretty dangerous in his own right."

"Noticed that, thanks," Dean grimaced. "So, these guys have taken the name of old pagan gods?"

"No, they actually are the old Egyptian gods," Daniel said. "Well, not gods, but worshipped as gods, anyway. They live a really long time."

"Huh." So, Geb hadn't been all talk earlier on his rant. "That is one powerful little snake."

Daniel cracked an eye to look at Dean. "Snake?"

"Yeah, he's like a snake-thing that goes inside someone's head—"

"No, I know that," Daniel interrupted. "How do you know that?"

"I saw it." Dean grimaced. "Freaking 'god of the earth' is inside my little brother."

Daniel's face softened abruptly. "I'm sorry." He sounded like he really meant it.

"Yeah, well, I'm getting him out somehow."

Daniel was quiet for a moment. "We might be able to help with that. Providing we get out of here, of course. Hopefully, the rest of my team will be along before too long."

"Your team?"

"Air Force. Coming to extract the spy, remember?"

"Oh, right. Will they be able to get us out?"

Daniel smiled. "Not my first time in a Goa'uld holding cell."

Dean laughed. "Awesome. I'm gonna be rescued by the Air Force. Ha! If Dad could see this." Daniel cocked a questioning eyebrow. "He was a Marine," Dean added.

Daniel smiled and shut his eyes again. "Well, we work with some Marines too, if that helps. Right now, though, I think I'm about to pass out, so…"

"Yeah. Sure. Go ahead," Dean replied. "I'll wake you up if anything happens."

"Great. Hey, when they dropped me in here, they didn't leave a pair of glasses, did they?"

"Nope."

"Of course not," he muttered. "Every single time…" He trailed off as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Daniel woke up a few hours later and seemed alright, if pretty stiff. He explained to Dean a little more about what was going on, which apparently had something to do with space aliens. Dean filed that one away to freak out about later.

"So, listen, how are we going to get that thing out of Sam?" he asked.

"The Tok'Ra can help," Daniel said. "They…Well, they're Goa'uld, but they're a rebel faction. They believe only in living in willing volunteers instead of just jumping in whoever they want."

"People actually sign up for that crap?" Dean asked, repulsed.

"A few. They go in for a more symbiotic relationship." Dean cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't know, they still kind of creep me out if I think too much about it," Daniel admitted. "Anyway, Goa'uld are almost impossible to get out of a host without killing the person, but the Tok'Ra have some kind of machine that can extract them without killing the host."

"And they'll use it on Sam? Will it hurt him?"

"Yeah. It kind of sucks, but it's better than leaving the thing in him."

"Point," Dean conceded, though he hated the idea of causing his little brother any more pain. The door at the end of the corridor swooshed open. "Aw, crap, he's back again." He really didn't feel like getting thrown into a wall again today.

Dean helped Daniel get to his feet and they both stood ready. Dean blinked in surprise when footsteps rounded the corner and it wasn't Geb or a Jaffa, but a guy about his dad's age in a uniform matching Daniel's.

"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed, smiling. "About time you got here."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting? You can put that in the comment section of your mission report. Right under 'Got caught. Again.'"

Daniel shook his head with a smile. "Shut up and get us out of here."

"Carter's working on it. You okay? And who's your friend?"

"I'll make it. Got jabbed with one of those cattle prod things."

Jack winced. "I hate those things."

"And this is Dean. It's a long story, but he's safe."

"Hi," Dean said, giving a little wave.

Jack nodded. The bars on the door swished up. "Sweet. Oh, yeah." He fished around in one of the pockets in his vest. "Here." He slapped a pair of glasses into Daniel's hand. "Figured you'd need 'em. Last spare pair in your desk, by the way. Okay." He clapped his hands together. Let's hit the road. Tell me you at least managed to find out where the Tok'Ra is?"

"She's dead," Daniel replied.

"Seriously? Great, well, the Tok'Ra can send in a guy to look for anything she may have left, and we should get out of here."

"Wait," Dean stepped forward. "We can't leave without my brother."

"Sure," Jack nodded. "He in one of these other cells?"

"Um," Daniel broke in. "He's Geb."

"What?!"

"New host," Daniel explained.

"Well, that's just peachy," Jack complained.

"I'm not leaving without him," Dean insisted.

"Yeah, I got that, kid. And I totally respect it, but really? A System Lord?"

"Look," Dean started, but Daniel held up a hand.

"He'll do it," he told Dean.

Jack narrowed his eyes at Daniel. "Well, duh, I'll do it, but this was supposed to be an easy in and out mission. Allow me a minute to gripe."

Daniel made a 'go ahead' gesture and Jack growled and grabbed his radio. "Carter? Change of plans. Get Teal'c and meet me in the holding cells. We're gonna catch us a System Lord."

"Thanks," Dean said.

"Yeah, whatever," Jack replied. "I don't leave people behind. But if I get zatted, I'm pinning it on you."

"I…I don't know what that means."

"Here." Jack held out a green, S-shaped…thing. "Zat gun. One shot incapacitates, two shots kill, three disintegrate."

"Awesome," Dean breathed, reaching for the gun.

"This is probably going to involve a firefight. You gonna be good with that?" Jack asked.

"I'm good," Dean assured him. "It's not my first rodeo," he added when Jack looked skeptical.

"Good. Now—"

"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed, swinging up the zat gun as a Jaffa came around the corner.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait!" Daniel cried, jumping in front of him and holding up his arms. "That's Teal'c. He's with us."

"Oh. Sorry." Dean lowered his gun. Now he noticed that Teal'c was wearing a uniform like Jack and Daniel, and was accompanied by a woman dressed the same. "Head tattoo threw me." He looked up at the very imposing man. "Um, sorry."

Teal'c inclined his head in acceptance of the apology. "What is our plan of action, O'Neil?" he asked Jack.

Jack fired off a brief round of introduction before explaining the situation.

"You know, if we can't find the girl's information, having Geb himself might make the Tok'Ra pretty happy," Carter mused. "If nothing else, getting him would stop the super-weapon he's working on."

"Super-weapon?" Dean asked.

"That is why the Tok'Ra were investigating him," Teal'c explained. His voice was deep and oddly soothing for a warrior. "He has been constructing a weapon rumored to be capable of destroying half a planet."

"He's building a freaking Death Star?" Dean asked.

"More or less," Carter agreed. Teal'c looked confused, but said nothing.

"Can we go?" Jack asked. "This is already taking longer than it was supposed to, and I don't want to miss the Simpsons tonight."

Sneaking around what Dean now knew was a freaking alien mothership was actually pretty easy, if not fast. Daniel's team seemed pretty familiar with the layout of these things and knew where they were going, and where to hide as Jaffa patrols came by.

"What if they notice we're missing?" Dean asked Daniel.

"Sirens go off and things get messy fast," Jack replied before Daniel could.

Things chose that moment to get messy anyway, as Geb and a troop of Jaffa marched past the door of the storage bay they were hiding in. Geb's eyes widened in surprise for a split second, then yelled, "Jaffa! Kree!" and all hell broke loose.

It only took Dean a few shots to get used to the gun in his hand—it was lighter than he was used to, but he liked the sensitive trigger. He rolled away from the blast of a staff weapon, coming up behind a crate with Jack. He popped up and let off three quick shots, dropping three Jaffa to the ground.

"Nice shooting, kid!" Jack yelled over the noise.

More Jaffa poured into the room, and Dean scanned frantically for Geb. He saw him back by the door, watching the fight with some sort of energy shield around him. Coward, Dean snorted to himself. Although, at least Sam wouldn't get hit that way.

The Jaffa were falling quickly, but kept pressing on, and Dean realized they were driving them apart. He hit the two Jaffa after him, then turned to rejoin the larger fight. As he moved, the gun went flying from his hand and he hurled backwards into the wall. "Oh, Dean," Geb clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed. "I think it's time for you to die now." He jerked his hand forward and Dean came off the wall and crashed to his knees. Then Geb was holding his palm in front of Dean's face and light was pouring out of the stone and pain was coursing through his body.

"Gaaaa-aah!" Dean screamed, clutching at the sides of his head. Geb laughed. Dean managed to look up to see Geb's cold eyes staring down out of Sam's face. "Sammy, please," Dean begged. "Aaah! Sam! Fight this! You can fight him, I know you can!" He gasped for air, curling into himself to try to block the pain. "Sammy, don't let him kill me," he rasped. "Come on, Sam."

The pain intensified for a second and then stopped completely. Dean's head shot up to see the red stone still inches from his face, but the hand it rested on was shaking. His eyes followed the arm up to the face, and it was Sam, breathing hard and terrified, but all Sam.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"You did it, Sam."

"Dean," Sam said shakily. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, Sammy, I know, I know, it's okay," Dean assured, getting to his knees and reaching out a hand.

"No, Dean, I can't—" His eyes hardened and he raised the hand with the stone. Dean swallowed hard, but the bolt of energy shot past him and a Jaffa dropped to the floor. The terror returned to Sam's eyes as soon as the threat was gone. "Dean, I can't hold him." His breathing was picking up pace, moving fast towards a panic attack. He groaned in pain and his hand started shaking again. "I need—" he choked. "I need—Dean, help me!" he begged, tears pooling in his eyes.

Dean heard the singing whine of a zat gun and blue energy crackled around Sam for a moment before he dropped to the floor. He was on his feet in an instant, blocking his brother's body, but instead of an enemy, Teal'c stood in front of him, lowering his own zat. "He is merely unconscious, Dean Winchester," Teal'c said calmly. "Had Geb regained control, he would have been harder to subdue." He holstered the gun on his leg and looked down at Sam. "There are few with the ability to wrest control from a Goa'uld, even for a moment. Your brother possesses great strength."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "He's always been a fighter." Teal'c knelt to pick Sam up and Dean moved forward. "No, I've got him."

Teal'c scooped Sam up into his arms and stood. "Of that I have no doubt. But I am able to carry him more easily, and you have proved to have great skill as a warrior. That may yet be needed before we return to our ship."

Dean had to agree that Teal'c was more suited to carry his brother's weight—the guy made Sam look small! "You drop him and I'll zat you," Dean warned, scooping up his fallen gun from the floor.

He thought he saw a glint of a smile in Teal'c eyes. "I shall be careful."

"We all good?" Jack called. Dean turned to see him limping across the room, supported by Daniel. Carter stood at the door, scanning for threats.

"All clear, sir," she said.

"We are ready, O'Neil," Teal'c replied, striding forward. Dean lengthened his strides to keep pace with him. He wasn't letting Sam out of his sight again.

"Carter, you take point," Jack said. "Dean? You got our six?"

"On it," Dean said, falling back a few steps. As if sensing his need to be close to his brother, Teal'c fell back behind Daniel and Jack, keeping Sam in Dean's view.

The journey back to the ship was reasonably uneventful. Two Jaffa came around the corner behind them at one point, and were quickly dispatched by Dean. Otherwise, they reached the team's ship unimpeded. Any other time, Dean would have taken a minute to marvel at being inside a space ship, but he had eyes only for Sam. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked Teal'c, who was laying Sam on the floor in the back of the ship.

"Geb will have regained control of the body when he awakens," Teal'c explained, removing the jewelry with the stone and snapping a thick pair of cuffs on Sam's wrists. "He will be most displeased, and merely being bound will not contain him." He stood and led Dean away, then pushed a few buttons on the wall. A door slid shut, locking Sam away. "The door can only be opened from this side. He can only come out when we are ready for him."

Dean sighed. "How long will it take for these Tok'Ra guys to get Geb out of his head?"

"We will contact them as soon as we return home," Teal'c assured him.

Geb had woken up about twenty minutes before they'd gotten to Daniel's team's secret base. (Which turned out to be under a mountain in Colorado.) He made his displeasure known very quickly, and very loudly, with cursing and shouting and pounding on the door so hard Dean was a little worried he'd get it open. When he'd commented on the strength it must have taken to put that dent in the door, Daniel explained that the Goa'uld symbiotes gave their host super-human strength and healing powers, which went a long way into explaining some things Dean had wondered about. They didn't explain the red stone jewelry thing, because they didn't really know how it worked themselves.

Now Dean was sitting awkwardly in a conference room with Daniel and a General Hammond, who seemed to run the place. Jack had been taken to sick bay for the burn on his leg, and Geb was locked up in a cell somewhere. Carter and Teal'c were trying to get a hold of the Tok'Ra, and the General and Daniel were explaining to Dean what he wasn't going to be allowed to say after leaving the base. It was all super-classified, and Dean didn't care. As long as they got the snake out of Sam, he'd happily tell Bobby they found the missing people having a tea party in the woods if he had to.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked when they were done. Yeah, Geb was driving again, but he knew Sam was in there. He didn't really know how the whole possession thing worked, but it was obvious Sam was conscious for it, and he was willing to bet that Geb was doing something to make him pay for taking over and saving Dean. He wanted to let Sam know he was still here, and still fighting for him.

"I think that would be alright," the General said. "He might not be particularly complimentary while you're in there, but…"

"Yeah, I know. But I figure Sam can hear me underneath all that, and I want him to know I'm still here."

The General nodded. "Doctor Jackson, if you'd show him the way." He gestured to the door. "The guard at the door will go in with you. For your safety," he added. "I've seen a cornered Goa'uld in a rage do some powerful damage."

They left the conference room and Daniel took him down to one of the lower levels. "He's in here. Simms here will go in with you. I'll be out here when you're done."

"Oh, look, Sammy," Geb sneered. "Big brother's come to play."

"You can't hurt him now," Sam retorted. "No magic stone to toss him around."

"I have no need of that trinket," Geb scoffed. "You think I couldn't crush his throat even with my hands bound?"

Sam tensed as he made to move, then they heard the click of a zat gun. "Try it," spoke the soldier at the door. Geb didn't.

Dean moved forward, cautiously, but not fearfully, then knelt so that he could look into their eyes. "Sammy?" he began. "I know you're in there."

"When I get out of here," Geb told Dean. "I'm going to enjoy tearing your lungs out of your chest and making Sam watch you die gasping."

"Yeah, I'm not talking to you," Dean said coolly. "Sammy," he said again. "You're gonna be okay, you hear me? We're gonna get that monster out of your head, and I'm not leaving until we do. And then you're gonna be fine."

Even with Geb's incredulity flowing through him, Sam felt the absolute faith he'd always had in his big brother buoy him up. Dean said he would fix it. And Sam believed him.

"Please," derided Geb. "What, the humans haven't told you that you can't remove a Goa'uld without killing the host? The only one who can get me out of Sam is me, and I have no intention of leaving. I will hold on to your brother, and my queen will come for me, and the wrath of the god of the sky and the god of the earth will reduce your world to a smoldering ash heap."

"Yeah, we can't get you out," Dean answered with a shrug. "But the Tok'Ra can." Geb's face didn't change, but Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach. Dean stood and patted him on the knee. Sam felt the touch from far away, but he felt it. "You hang in there, Sammy," he said. "I'll be back," he promised, then left with the guard. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Well," Geb said. "The Tok'Ra may be coming, but we've got time before they get here. My queen will come for me yet. In the meantime, I'm not a big fan of that hope you were feeling there. No cause for that just yet. Now where were we? Oh, that's right. Jessica made cookies…"

"What do you mean they're not coming?!" Dean demanded, slamming his hands down on the cafeteria table.

"They're not 'not coming'," Carter tried to explain. "They're just…not coming now."

"They claim they are busy with deep cover operations and will come to assist us when they are done," Teal'c elaborated.

"Skeevy little snakes are throwing a hissy fit that we didn't get the intel they wanted," Jack said curtly, massaging the leg he had propped on a chair.

"Stop messing with that." Carter slapped his hand away from the bandage.

"Jack, they're our allies," Daniel reminded him, with the air of someone who's had this argument before.

"Yeah, and?" Jack retorted. "They're Goa'ulds and they're pissed at us so they're taking their time." He lifted a finger to point at Daniel as he opened his mouth. "Allies or not, don't tell me you don't think that's what they're doing."

Daniel opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"What, seriously?" Dean asked incredulously. "What kind of crap allies do you guys have?"

"You know, I ask that question all the time," Jack said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"It's not ideal," Carter admitted. "It's more of a…" She gestured with her hand as she searched for a word.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Teal'c said.

"Well, that's fan-freaking-tastic," Dean snapped. "When do they think they'll get here?"

"About a month," Carter said to her jello.

"WHAT?" Dean roared, shoving back from the table. "Oh, hell no! We are not leaving that thing inside my little brother for a month!"

"Calm yourself, Dean Winchester," Teal'c said, taking his arm and pulling him back into his seat. "Such anger serves no purpose. There are still other avenues available to us. We have other contacts within the Tok'Ra we can speak with. Perhaps, if they were to hear a personal plea from you, as a family member of the host, they might be inclined to hasten their arrival. But such a plea must be made with decorum. Anger will only push them further away."

Dean drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, fine, whatever. I'll say whatever they want if it'll get their tails here quicker, but they're sure as hell going to get here."

"Bobby, hey." After promising not to reveal anything classified, Dean had talked Daniel into driving him into town. He'd wanted a little privacy for a phone call.

"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed. "You boys tryin' to turn my hair gray? Where the hell have you been?"

"Who's gonna notice any more gray in there, huh?" Dean replied, slipping easily back into something familiar.

"You watch it, boy," Bobby growled. "You boys alright?"

"Um, kind of."

"That ain't no answer."

"Well, we're not dead," Den elaborated. "But we need some help."

"Uh huh. Figured. Shoot."

"You ever hear of something called a Goa'uld?" Aliens or not, these things had lived on Earth for a while back in the day. There had to be some lore somewhere.

"Don't ring a bell."

"Yeah, they're pretty old, but I'm going to need anything you can dig up, Bobby. One of these things has got Sam. And I mean, like, it's got him. Freaking thing is possessing him."

Bobby let out a low whistle. "You boys don't do anything by halves, do ya? Tell me what you know."

"It's like a snake-thing with spines on its head," Dean began. "About two feet long. It's apparently really long-lived—set itself up as one of the Egyptian gods back in B.C. times."

"So this is a physical possession?" Bobby asked. "The snake has an actual body?"

"Yeah. And its body is inside Sam's body."

"Huh. Well, that at least will narrow it down. Worst comes to worst and I can't find any Goa'uld lore, I may be able to find a generic exorcism for corporeal possessions."

"Great, Bobby, thanks. Just send me what you've got as soon as you get it," Dean said. "The thing is on lockdown right now, but the sooner we get it out of Sam, the better."

Dean woke the next morning to the trilling of his phone? "Yeah?" he mumbled groggily.

"Dean?" Bobby said. "I got something."

Dean sat bolt upright in bed. "What?"

"I was able to find some lore on the Goa'uld. Actually got my first hit on a Japanese one, if you'd believe it. These things used to be spread out all over the world."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the history lesson, do you know how to get it out of Sam?"

"I was gettin' there," Bobby huffed. "Anyway, I'm sending you an exorcism. Best I can tell, it looks like a standard corporeal possession exorcism modified by some Egyptian priest for Goa'ulds. Catch is, it hasn't been used in about 8,000 years, so the lore is a little vague on how well it works."

"Worth a shot," Dean said, scrabbling in the drawer of the bedside desk for a pen. "Let me find something to write with…"

"I'm gonna send you a recording I made as soon as we hang up," Bobby said.

"No, no, I can say it."

"You'll butcher the language," Bobby replied.

"Hey! I can do Latin just fine!" Dean protested.

"Yeah, and Latin and Ancient Egyptian are nothing alike," Bobby retorted. "These things are always better the more precise they can be."

"And your Ancient Egyptian is so much better than mine?"

"Yes." Bobby said shortly. "Now, I don't know how powerful this Goa'uld is, but if this thing is going to work, I'd wager you'll have to play it a few times before it does anything. Now hang up and let me send the darn thing so you can go save your brother. If it don't work, I'll keep digging."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure to tell me what happened this time instead of leaving me in the dark for four more days. Idjit."

"Back again with more empty reassurances, are we, Dean?" Geb sneered.

"Nope. I've got something even better."

"Oh? Tok'Ra deigned to show up, did they? I heard they were taking their sweet time."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, they are, but I don't need them. I've got this." He held up his phone.

Geb raised an eyebrow. "Scary. You're going to text me to death?"

"Just going to play you something Bobby sent along," Dean replied calmly. "Being all up in Sam's grapefruit, you know about Bobby, right? You'd know he's pretty good at stuff like this."

He hit the play button on the phone, and Bobby's voice began reciting something that sounded like complete gibberish to Dean.

"They said I might find you in here." Dean turned to see Daniel coming through the door. "What are you doing?" He listened for a moment. "Is that Ancient Egyptian?"

"Yeah. Just trying something." Dean turned back to Geb as the recording stopped.

"What was that?" Geb asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, did you not catch that?" Dean asked. "Let me run it again." He hit the button. Was it his imagination, or did Geb twitch a little? "Didn't like that?" he asked as it ended again.

"You actually think that's going to work?" Geb snorted. "The chair is just uncomfortable."

"Uh huh. Okay." He hit 'play' again.

"What are you doing?" Daniel leaned in and asked again.

"Sh. I think it's doing something," Dean said. Geb curled his lip at him, and Dean started the recording again as soon as it stopped.

"Stop it!" Geb barked, his breathing becoming labored.

"Get the hell out of my brother," Dean replied, and played it again.

Geb grunted in pain and shot Dean a murderous look, then winced and brought Sam's hands up to hold his head.

"Hang in there, Sammy," Dean urged, starting the exorcism again.

"Gaa-aah!" Geb cried, dropping to his knees. He curled forward in pain, and Dean swallowed down a wave of nausea as Sam's hair fell forward and exposed the back of his neck where something was writhing grotesquely under the skin.

"What the hell?" Daniel whispered, staring in fascination.

"Stop it! Stop!" Geb choked, red face turning up to Dean, whose only response was to push 'play' again. Geb snarled and his eyes flashed gold before screaming in pain.

"It's almost over, Sammy, come on, you can do this," Dean said, hating how much Geb's scream sounded like Sam's. "Come on."

He played the exorcism again and Geb shrieked, and his eyes flashed gold once, twice, then again as he started to choke. Dean held his breath hopefully. Was this it?

Sam's back arched and he coughed, going even redder in the face. His chest was heaving and his eyes went wide as he started to retch, sputtering and choking and struggling to breathe. A string of bile fell from his mouth, and a spined, squealing pink head appeared between his lips.

Daniel's mouth fell open as he stared in shock, and Dean hit 'play' once more and let go of the phone, rushing to his brother's side. As he crashed to his knees next to Sam, the blood-smeared Goa'uld slipped out of Sam's mouth and hit the floor with a sickening wet smack.

Sam gasped in a lungful of air. His eyes widened in horror as they landed on the snake in front of him, and he scrambled frantically away across the floor.

"Hey, Sammy, it's okay, it's okay," Dean said, moving to grab him. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, and Sam immediately latched on to his shirt with his bound hands, pressing into Dean as if he was still trying to get farther away from Geb. "I gotcha, Sammy, you're alright," Dean soothed, holding him tightly. "Hey, you're okay. It's over. He's out. You're okay."

Sam tore his eyes away from Geb and looked up. "Dean?" he whispered. His eyes were searching, pained and frightened, but completely, one hundred percent, totally Sam, and Dean grinned broadly.

"Right here, little brother," he said. He tugged him in for a hug and Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck. "I'm right here," he repeated.

Geb squealed from where he lay on the floor and Sam tensed in Dean's arms. "Up," he whispered.

"It's okay, Sam, he's not getting back in you," Dean assured him.

"Get me up," Sam insisted, pushing at Dean's arms.

"Okay," Dean agreed, grabbing Sam firmly by the arms and hauling him to his feet.

Still breathing hard, Sam looked down at Geb where he lay writhing in a puddle of blood and slime. With a determined glare, he pushed away from Dean and took a step forward, and brought his boot down hard on the squirming snake. The squealing stopped abruptly, and Sam stomped down again until Geb was just a smear on the cell floor. "Told you," he breathed, glaring down at the remains of the god of the earth.

"Way to go, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam turned back to his brother. "You did it, Dean," he said softly. He smiled, swayed on his feet, and then his eyes rolled back into his head and he nearly hit the floor before Dean could lunge forward and grab him.

"Go get Dr. Fraser," Dean heard Daniel telling the guard. Moving away from what was left of Geb, Dean eased down to sit on the floor, resting Sam's head on his lap. He swiped absently with his sleeve at the blood on Sam's lips. "Is he alright?" Daniel asked, crouching beside them.

"I think so." Dean brushed the hair away from Sam's face. His breathing was evening out and his face was peaceful. He picked up one of Sam's hands and rubbed a finger across the bruised knuckles, a reminder of Geb's attack on the door of the ship yesterday.

"That was…" Daniel shook his head. "How did you do that?"

"Exorcism," Dean said, not wanting to take too much attention away from Sam to explain.

"That's what it sounded like," Daniel said. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't waiting for your freaking Tok'Ra to decide to show up."

"No. Yeah, that's…Yeah." Daniel seemed at a loss for words. "Wow."

Dean turned away from the magazine he was pretending to read when he heard Sam sigh and shift on the mattress. "Sammy?" Sam scrunched up his nose and turned his face back into the pillow. "Come on, little brother, I know you're in there. You gonna wake up for me?"

Sam sighed again and sniffed, and slowly blinked his heavy lids open. His eyes roamed the sickbay before landing on Dean. "D'n?" he rasped.

"Hey, Sam," Dean grinned. "Welcome back."

"W—" Sam broke off into a rasping cough. His eyes widened in alarm as he pulled his hand away from his mouth and saw it speckled with blood.

"Here, drink this," Dean said, leaning forward with a glass of water. "And don't worry about that," he added, pointing at Sam's hand before reaching over with a rag to wipe it clean. "Doc said that would probably happen. Geb tore up your throat a little on his way out. Sorry."

Sam shook his head and put his water down. "You got him out," he said, sounding very marginally less like he'd swallowed sandpaper. "'m not complaining." He looked up at Dean with shimmering eyes. "Thank you."

Dean gave a small smile. "Just doing my job, Sammy." He sighed. "Wouldn't've had to do it at all if I'd kept that thing out of you in the first place."

"There wasn't anything you could've done," Sam told him.

"I could've kept you safe like I'm supposed to."

Sam reached over and wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist. "You did," he said softly. "M'okay." He squeezed Dean's wrist, looked up at him briefly, then looked away. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For…" His eyes went up to the green and purple bruises on the side of Dean's face and he swallowed, remembering a couple of days ago when his hands had put them there. "Dean, I could have killed you!"

"No," Dean said patiently, putting his hand over the one Sam had on his wrist. "Geb could have killed me. You, as I recall, actually stopped him from doing that."

"Yeah," Sam shifted uncomfortably. "But I almost couldn't," he whispered. "And all that other stuff I did, with the stick thing and throwing you around…That could've—I mean, Geb didn't care if it—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Dean interrupted. "Geb didn't care. He did it. Not you. Yeah, that snake packed a wallop, and yeah, it was weird seeing him wearing your face while he did it, but I knew it wasn't you, man. Never thought it was."

"It felt like it was, though," Sam whispered. "Every time he hit you, it was my hands, and I felt it. I felt my fist hitting your face, and I could feel the heat of that stick thing every time he jabbed it into you, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy, calm down," Dean said. He put a hand to the side of Sam's face and tilted it up to look at him. Sam's eyes were brimming with tears and shame. "I know you felt it. And that sucks, dude. I am so, SO sorry. But it wasn't you, Sam. It wasn't you."

Sam looked up at Dean and blinked, the first tear escaping from his eye and down his cheek. "I couldn't make him stop," he whispered. "I tried so hard, Dean, but I couldn't make him stop."

"I know," Dean said softly. He wrapped his arms around his brother and Sam folded into his chest and started to cry. "I know." He wrapped one hand protectively over Sam's head, grimacing at the still-healing scar he felt on the back of his neck. "But he's gone now, Sam. We beat him, and you're free."

"'m sorry," Sam mumbled into his chest.

"Ssh," Dean soothed. "It's okay. It's okay, and you know what? We're okay. We're okay, little brother."

Sam sniffed and brought his hands up between them to latch on to the amulet on Dean's chest. They stayed like that for several minutes. Sam pushed back and wiped at his eyes. "You sure?" he asked carefully.

Dean smiled. "Totally. Had this conversation after Meg, remember?"

Sam huffed a small laugh. "Yeah. You kind of wouldn't shut up about it."

Dean's smile widened. "Well, I wouldn't've had to if you'd listened the first time."

"Shut up." He swatted at Dean's shoulder.

"You hungry?" Dean asked. He knew he had to be—Geb had been refusing food in the holding cell. "We can get you some nice soup, maybe a milkshake or something for your throat."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam sighed. He looked around the room. "But first, is there some place I can take a shower? I just…I really feel like I need to be clean."

"Sure. There's an awesome shower in my room." He glanced around. "No nurses around. We'll sneak you out of here, then come back for the official checkout after we eat."

The doctor had given Sam a clean bill of health when they returned to the sickbay…along with a thorough scolding for sneaking out early. Sam had chuckled a little at the sight of Dean backing down in the face of the tiny woman's wrath. He'd gotten his debriefing on the classified nature of whatever the hell was going on under this mountain, and had signed a crapload of confidentiality waivers, as had Dean. Not that it really mattered—who were they going to tell? Hunters as a rule were skeptical about the whole alien thing.

Entertainingly enough, these Air Force guys were skeptical about the whole supernatural thing. Dean had had to explain about the exorcism and let them keep the recording Bobby sent, and yet they were having trouble with the concept of magic and demons, despite having seen the exorcism in action. Maybe Sam was just tired, but he'd found the whole thing funny, although the laughing really killed his throat.

He'd apologized profusely to Daniel—he remembered seeing all of the team at one point or another on Geb's ship, but Daniel he remembered especially, seeing as Geb had taken a few swings at him with that stick. Daniel brushed it off. "Trust me, I've had worse," he'd promised.

It was late in the day once all that was done, and they were offered another night's stay in one of the guest rooms on base. Sam swallowed hard at the thought—not that it wasn't a nice place, but being deep underground coupled with days of being a prisoner in his own body was starting to make him feel trapped. He didn't realize his breathing was starting to speed up until he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder. His brother was already halfway through an excuse about needing to meet up with someone.

"Dude, unclench," Dean teased as they got into the elevator.

"I need to not be in here," Sam protested.

"I know," Dean said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "But you can't hold your breath for twenty-eight floors. Keep breathing for me, kiddo."

They hit the top and Sam stood at the entrance to the tunnel for a few minutes with his eyes closed just breathing in the fresh air. He was interrupted by a victorious crow from his brother—apparently someone had been sent to find the Impala while they'd been in the base, and she was waiting for them in the parking lot.

"Hey, baby," Dean cooed, running his hands along the hood. "Did you miss me?" He slid into the driver's seat, and Sam shook his head as Dean ran his hands over the steering wheel, dash and seats. "Spaceship's got nothing on my girl."

"You need a minute?" Sam asked.

"I need you to get into the car so we can get out of here," Dean retorted. "I'm starving." He watched Sam as he slid into the passenger's side. "You good?"

Sam knew he was referring to Sam's need to be 'out' earlier. He nodded. The Impala had never felt confining.

Later that night, Dean woke up to the sound of running water. He and Sam had both been so tired when they'd found the motel, they'd fallen asleep almost immediately. He glanced at the clock. Looks like they'd made it about three hours before the nightmares had hit Sam. Not bad.

He swung himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. The door wasn't shut, so he eased his way inside. Sam was standing at the sink, scrubbing furiously at his hands as steam rose from the sink.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, his arm shooting out and turning off the water. "You trying to burn yourself?"

"No," Sam protested, reaching back for the tap. "The blood. I can't get the blood off."

Dean quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Sam's hands. "There's no blood, Sammy," he said, patting gently to dry his hands.

"It's everywhere," Sam whispered. A quick look at his eyes made Dean wonder if he was all the way awake yet.

Dean opened the towel and sighed in relief. Sam's hands were a little red, but no more than if he'd been in a really hot shower. Looks like the water was still heating up when he'd gotten in there. "There's no blood, Sam. Look."

Sam stared down at his hands.

"See?" Dean prompted when Sam didn't say anything.

"It was there, though," he said softly. "Her blood was everywhere."

Ah. Dean still remembered the Tok'Ra girl's death far, far too vividly. Of course Sam did too. "Hey, c'mon." He gave Sam a gentle push back towards the bedroom. "You know that was Geb, right?" he said, guiding Sam to sit on his bed.

Sam nodded. "Still my hands, though." He looked more awake now. "Dean, her neck was so small…It was just one hand, but I could feel—" He swallowed hard. "I didn't just choke her, Dean, my hand actually crushed her throat. I could feel things snapping and breaking, and, Dean, my fingers were actually inside her throat, that's how hard he was—"

"Hey, hey," Dean interrupted. "Look at me." Sam turned watery eyes up to his brother. "I am so sorry, Sammy. I can't imagine what that feels like, being able to feel that with your hands, but it wasn't you, man. You need to hold on to that." He picked up one of Sam's hands. "No blood, see? It's gone, just like Geb is. Her blood, Daniel's blood, my blood—all gone. Gone with what at this point is just snake paste on the floor of a secret Air Force underground base."

Sam gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah. I just…" He trailed off thoughtfully, not seeming to notice that Dean was pushing him back down onto the mattress. "I was just starting to sleep again after Meg," he said softly.

Dean paused, then continued drawing the blanket up over his brother.

"And I know she would have died anyway," Sam went on. "If not with my hands, then whoever else Geb would have picked if I hadn't been there. But it was still my hands," he finished softly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. He wasn't sure what else to say. "Your feet, too."

"Huh?"

"Your feet that stomped that little snake into jelly," Dean continued, sitting down on the other side of the bed. He saw Sam smile a little bit at that.

"That did feel good," Sam agreed.

"And," Dean went on, lifting the covers and sliding under them. "I hear that's a service to the galaxy right there, which is a larger scale than our usual gig. So, good job there."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked as Dean reached across him and turned the light off.

"You want me to leave the lamp on?"

"No, what are you doing in my bed?"

"Took you a while to notice that, didn't it?"

"Shut up."

"You want me to move?"

Sam grunted and rolled over so that his back was to Dean, but didn't say anything. Dean smiled and stretched his leg out until it touched Sam's, so his little brother could feel he was there. "Your hands are clean, Sammy," he whispered. "Give it a little while and your dreams will be too."

He was almost asleep, but Sam shifted in closer to his brother before he was all the way out.