Thanks, Vic. They almost got me. The words were echoing in his mind.

"Calm down, nobody has to get hurt." Victor switched into his FBI agent mood. Shit. Think, think. Victor glanced at Sam and Bobby who were still struggling against the force that kept them at the walls. No help from there. Dean hadn't moved either. Was he even breathing?

"I am calm." Rick had still his crazy grin on his face. He stepped closer and Victor backed of a step. "And for the hurt part. Well, the world doesn't need another hunter." He tilted his head. "And I think, I'll off Singer over there too. To bad the Winchesters are hands off." He pouted and it was just so wrong on his black-eyed face.

Victor wanted to say something – he was not really sure what – but he never got the chance. Like gotten hit by a train he flew through the door, landed hard on the floor and slid a few feet before he found a sudden stop in a pile of books.

Shaking his head he fought the dizziness and tried to get up. He managed to get on his hands and knees before Rick was over him. His foot connected with Victor's head. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he went down.

"Vic, Vic, Vic." Rick's voice seemed to come out of the distance. "You should have stayed at the FBI. Really. Live a pointless, apple pie life. Hunters tend to die young, you know?"

Then Victor went flying again. This time he was stopped by Bobby's desk. For a second he couldn't breath. His rips were on fire, definitely bruised maybe broken. But it wasn't as bad as his head. His vision swam in front of his eyes.

"Come here." He tried to yell but the words came out like a whisper. "You wanna kill me? Then do it with your bare hands. Look me in the eye when you do it. Come here!"

"That should be fun." Like he was on a damn cocktail party he strolled towards Victor.

"I think I'll just punch you to death. How does that sou..." Rick ran into an invisible wall. Squinting at the ceiling Victor prayed that it wasn't all shit Sam had told him.

"I think I'll pass." He could feel a maniac grin creeping on his face. Rick on the other hand wasn't grinning anymore. If anything he looked puzzled. He tried once again to get a step closer to Victor but he couldn't.

"Wasn't sure if this thing really works." From his position on the floor Victor pointed to the ceiling above Rick. Slowly he looked up at the devil's trap.

"Good thinking, boy." Bobby stood in the door. Over his shoulder he asked: "How is he?"

"He … is fine." Answered Dean's voice instead of Sam's. So he was at least conscious again. Victor couldn't see neither of them from his position but he had no intention to move. Clenching his hand over his rips he was busy enough breathing. And his head was killing him. Fuck, it hurts.

"I thought we were friends." Rick muttered and looked like Rick again. His eyes were normal and he shoved his glasses back on his nose.

"Rick is my friend." Every breath burned in his lungs but he had to make this point clear. "You are not Rick." With closed eyes he fought the need to puke.

"Ah Vic, I'm the only Rick you ever met." He crouched to get to eye-level with Victor. "I took this body over a year ago. Long before we met. And I have to admit, I lost Rick somewhere along the ride. He is dead. Died month ago. Sorry." The grin was back and it didn't looked sorry at all. "I should have killed you and Singer when he picked you up."

"Why haven't you?" Every word was a fight but he needed to know.

"Every other hunter I would have killed right there. But Singer … I wasn't sure." He took the time to clean his glasses with his sleeve.

"Why?" Sam stood in the door. Behind him Victor could see Dean wobbling on his legs a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him upright but a lethal look in his eyes. "Because of the big master plan?"

"I'm too unimportant to know shit about the big plan." He stood face to face with Sam. "I'm following orders. And I was sick of sitting in a crappy lab and manipulating evidences. So when I saw a chance to prove myself I took it. Didn't expect you here." He looked rather disappointed. The glasses were low on his nose again.

"Manipulating?" It was hard to make sense out of the words through the pulsating pain in his head but this part Victor got.

"I did you a favor." Ignoring Victor Rick spoke to Sam. "We made sure you didn't settle down in Stanford and we don't want you in prison either." Now he turned to Victor.

"Sorry, Vic. But even if you caught the Winchesters there is no way to convict them." Despite the fact he was trapped he looked like he just got the cream.

"Great." It was Dean who spoke first. "Now demons are helping us?"

"Time to shove your ass back to hell." Bobby stepped closer and stood right outside the trap. Latin words rushed over him and this time Rick didn't or couldn't do anything to stop it. He screamed before he finally throw his head back. Black smoke came out of his mouth, circled under the ceiling and then it vanished. With a thud Rick's body hit the ground.

Victor looked in dead eyes. The glasses had finally fallen off.

Rick was dead. Had been dead all the time. Demon. The last thought drifted through Victor's mind and after that there was only darkness.

"Hey, boy. Ya with me?"

Victor grunted and opened his eyes. The light was too bright and his vision was still swimming. There were two Bobbys in front of him, so he shut his eyes again.

"Stay awake." A rough hand on his face. Why couldn't he let him drift back into darkness?

"Head hurts." The words slurred on his lips.

"I know. But I don't think you cracked your head, just a mother of a headache and maybe a mild concussion." The voice washed over him but the words didn't sink in. "Can you sit up?"

Without hesitation Bobby manhandled him into a sitting position. Victor bit back a grunt of pain. Somehow he had trouble breathing but he had no clue why.

"Let me look at your ribs and then you can get some nice, little painkillers. Sounds good?"

Victor tried a nod but regretted it the same second. His head just wanted to split apart. "What happened?"

"You just survived your first demon."

Somehow he survived the next hour too. The painkillers did their job – Victor didn't want to know where Bobby got them in the first place – and he could move without his head cracking open. Dean was in the same condition minus the bruised ribs, thank god nothing broken, but he was sucking it up much better. Victor just wanted to sleep. Get into bed and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. But the Winchesters had other ideas. While Victor and Dean sat at the kitchen table holding ice packs to their heads Sam swept through the house packing.

"What now?" Victor asked. Is the offer still standing? Do you still trust me enough to take me along? That were the questions he didn't dare to ask. They hadn't kicked him out by by now, so maybe …

"Bobby will take care of the body." Dean answered not looking at Victor. "Time to take off."

This second Sam came in. "Our stuff is in the car, we are ready to go." But instead of heading back outside he sat down next to Victor.

"Sorry for your friend." He said real sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah." Was all Victor could say. He needed time to sort things out and get his mind wrapped around the idea that the whole time Rick had not been Rick. That he actually had never med real Rick. Victor stared at his hands on the table.

"OK, let's get moving." Dean stood up. With one hand at the fridge he had to stabilize himself but after a second he stood as nothing ever happened.

"Dean, give me the keys." Sam hold out his hand but his brother just stared at him.

"I can drive."

Dean's place was in a bed preferably in an hospital if somebody would bother to ask Victor. And Victor wouldn't mind taking the bed next to him. But hospitals seemingly didn't play a major role in the life of a Winchester.

"You have a concussion." Apparently Sam thought the same. At least about Dean's condition.

"I drove in worse conditions." Dean pointed out and the way Sam sighed at this statement it was more than true.

"But this time I'm not bleeding to death in the backseat." Next time Victor could think straight again he would ask about this story.

"Better not. Blood on the upholstery is a bitch, bitch." Dean tried his trademark smirk but it looked a bit painful.

"Just give me the keys, jerk."

Without further bickering Dean handed over the keys and they both turned towards the door.

Neither of them invited Victor to come along. The door closed behind them. OK, that answered Victor's questions. With a sigh he adjusted the ice pack. His head and his ribs hurt to much to think about his future. Maybe he should just sit here till Bobby kicked him out.

Suddenly the door opened again and Dean stuck his head in.

"Are you coming or what?"

***end***

Yes, this is the end of "Down the Rabbit Hole". I know I'm evil, that's nothing new.

I want to thank everybody who enjoyed this story with me. It's just amazing how many people read it, left a review or put it on their alert/favorite list.

Maybe I'll do a oneshot or two till November and then it's NaNoWriMo time. So no fanfiction in November.

Victor's journey will continue in the third part of this 'verse "The World You Thought You Lived In" which I'll start in December.