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It's a regular caravan that shows up at Metropolis today.

Vehicle One: The Coraline, a modifies pick-up truck being driven by everyone's favourite bloodthirsty pirate, with a distinctly anti-killing ex-Robin in the passenger seat. The ghost of a teenage girl is technically sitting on the roof of the cabin, but sometimes she pokes her head in to interrupt the boys in their conversation.

Vehicle Two: A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the only one blaring out tunes, while the driver and his blonde passenger sit in relative silence, not having much to say to each other.

Vehicle Three: A Porsche, containing one carefully prepared hunter and one blind woman who prides herself on not needing any preparation. The conversation in that one is a little more lively, even containing the occasional laugh from the girl.

It's a ridiculous procession, considering they don't really know where they're going. But Jack has all six of his senses peeled, looking for a young teenage girl of Chinese origin who isn't a young teenage girl of Chinese origin.

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Sylar's eyes focus for a second on Sam and his pose, and sharpen in panic.

Unfortunately, his redoubled effort to stand up only results in the further protest of his injured muscles, and he only succeeds in lifting himself slightly before rolling over and shouting in pain.

"You're not--" clenched teeth-- "taking this body."

For Jack rather than anyone else, the experience is rather like hearing a grown man's voice coming out of the mouth of a little girl. And yet at the same time, nothing like that, because it's still Jubilation's voice.

He steps towards Dick, partly to show submission to the girl's brother, and also partly so Dick then has the choice not to look at what's happening to the body in question.

"We're not," he says, smirking dryly

"You're giving it back," Dick says flatly. He nods to Jack in appreciation of the gesture, but - he still needs to see. He needs to know.

"Now."

"Yeah, go Wingman!" Jubilee punches the air. And her fist passes through Dick's shoulder.

Today? Today has not been a fun day for Sylar. He thought he'd finally gotten a grip on things, gotten some degree of control over his own life, but no; in a minute, much as it hurts him to admit it, he won't have even this injured body.

But if he could get rid of the man with the power to rip him out of it--

Wait.

Sylar's gaze snaps over towards Sam. His expression is a wide-open one of fear and surrender, but his expression is a lie.

He can take control of this situation. If he relaxes his hold on the girl's body, and braces himself not to fight against the next expelling force he's sure is coming, then the problem might just solve itself.

It's like when you're a kid, bored in class, playing with a rubber band. You stretch it and stretch it, preparing to launch it across the class room and then all of a sudden, totally on its own, it snaps from the pressure and usually hits you straight in the eye and hurts like a bitch.

That's what it's like, pulling and pulling and suddenly having a spirit snapping free.

Sam gasps and reels back but it's-- it's wrong, there's no smoke, just the sensation of pulling, and there's nothing creeping down and through the floorboards. There's no sense of elation, not even vaguely, because he has no idea what just happened and he's physically exhausted.

Jo's going to arrive about now.

And stand rather int about three-fourths of the door when she realizes whats going on, between the struggling girl, the crowd and Sam.

She's half glancing back to see Dean and make sure Dean isn't going to stop Sam as much as she eying the girl to see if his freak brain powers are actually working.

It kind of blows not getting the beat the crap outta the bad guy.

A rubber band hitting you in the eye is kind of the perfect metaphor.

Being torn from a body hurts, in some near-indefinable way that's like being scraped across mental sandpaper, and Sylar's last physical action is to close his eyes and cry out again. Then he tumbles invisibly, a swimmer dropped into the ocean and with no idea of which way is up.

For a second or two, there's nothing -- just the body's sudden deathly stillness, and Sylar's intangible struggle.

Then he tightens his grip on the hook that caught him, hanging on grimly, and follows it back to its source.

Dick springs forwards to catch the falling body of Jubilee, not entirely sure of what's going on but sure that he's not letting her hit the ground.

Dean skids around the corner, nearly slamming into Jo, just in time to watch things unfold with one hell of an angry expression.

There. Will. Be. Some. Brotherly. Discussions. Going. On.

Later, please. Possibly when Sam is doing something other than... well, what he is.

The exhaustion from using his powers before - even the forced visions - isn't anything new, and he'd certainly been expecting it. It's been dangerous occasionally, when they needed to get out fast and Sam had to be half-carried in order to get somewhere safe. But it's never been like this. When a demon was pulled, it was pulled, thrown, and killed.

The rubberband effect - because that's basically what it is - sends him reeling backward with a gasp, takes his feet right out from under him, and the mountain of a man that he is often teased of being hits the ground hard.

"Ow. Shit."

'Sam' is not quite prepared enough to turn the fall into a roll, but he picks himself up fairly promptly, breathing hard, stumbling a little from the disorientation, shaking a bit from the exhaustion.

Then he barges swiftly out of the open door, fists and elbows raised to get him past Dean and Jo.

Jo doesn't look shocked. If anything she looks torn between two things: pissed and pleased. She doesn't even hesitate to launch herself fully at Sam.

Sam who is not a teenage girl. Sam who is a hunter who can damn well take his punches and his broken bones without whining and having his big pretty brother beat her up for it.

He might be twice her size and it might be a sickening (twist in her stomach of digust and glee) thing to think about launching herself at Sam of all people -- but this time, she isn't holding back.

She knows she wouldn't want Sam to if it was her.

"Get the fuck out of him, you bastard."

Shit shit shit motherfucker shit shit --

They've fought and wrestled since they were small, but then Sammy grew into a manmountain and started winning sometimes - Dean isn't, actually, certain that he could beat a possessed-Sammy. Not without hurting him.

This just went from eh to bad.

Still, he throws himself at his brother, tackling low. If they can get him down long enough for - for --

-- for what?

Sylar doesn't like to run away, because it admits defeat, but he will if he has to.

But hey, if the people who tried to make him dead again want to give him another excuse to be violent towards them, then to a great extent he's really not complaining.

This body might be tired, but it's large and it's strong. Dean's tackle does knock him off-balance; he keeps at least one foot free and aims a fierce kick at the man's face. But he's falling as he does, and making a grab for Jo's arms, partly to deflect her attack and partly to either stop himself from falling or bring her down with him.

!!!

Jubilation dives into her body the moment it goes limp. She has to fit now, right?
Sparrow groans, opens her eyes, and goes to stand up.

"Ow! Motherf - "

Actually, not in front of Wingman.

Having shouted a warning to Sam, Jack hangs back a little when Dean and Jo launch themselves at him.

Not least because the only thing Jack can really do is kill things, and that probably wouldn't get him into Jo's good books.

He starts forward after a second, though, mostly to break the guy's hold on Jo.

Dick lifts Jubilee to her feet, grinning at her in immense relief. "I'll block my ears," he suggests, "for ten minutes. After we get this crim behind bars."

He'll go help with that in a sec - just as soon as he's sure Sparrow is OK.

Dean's pretty sure Sam just kicked his teeth in. Goddamnit this is not going how he wanted!

He tries to hang on, but Sam is stronger, taller, and did not just get kicked in the face; also, the blood makes the damn kid's legs slippery.

"Jo! Get him!"

Sparrow frowns at Dick.

"Go! What the hell are you doing here?"

She's fine! She just needs some time to sit and go ow a lot.

Or to scramble to her feet, trying her damnedest not to swear. Everything hurts.

She's hardly going to win in a tug-of-war with Sam Winchester. (As if she ever thought she might.) He's bigger and he weighs far more. But she's tiny and she takes the momentum to curl up tight and slam into him with the force he's both pulling and falling with.

He's everywhere. Again.

She doesn't shudder. There's too much happening, too much adrenaline. But the wave of panic, helplessness and old bitterness is part of the equation.

There's someone's hand on her shoulder and arm, and Dean is yelling, when she manages to get one hand free from Sam/Sylar's grasp. She's ignoring them, ignoring how personal this feels.

She's far from helpless this time --

"You'll have to do better than that, asshole," she grunted when she pulls back and punches him hard in the groin, only to follow it with gripping and twisting. "Get the fuck out of him."

-- and she won't pretend some part of her didn't love that.

Oshi--

Jo's blow knocks the breath out of him, and he jerks his knees towards his chest in an automatic defensive reaction, pulling his feet away from Dean's bloody face.

He's focused on things more important than answering her, though. She's smaller and lighter than him, and Jack's pulling her away, and if Sylar puts everything he has into dragging himself up by the both of them and doesn't spare either the use of his strong new knees and elbows and fingernails and fists...

He's on his feet, wincing, one boot sliding momentarily, and starting to run again.

He certainly wasn't trying to get Jo away from Sylar, just keep her from being hurt, but something snaps in Jack as the situation becomes more claustrophobic.

And as Jo starts to react to Sam.

Jack pulls a gun and points it at Sylar's retreating back. And this body doesn't have the ability to phase.

And then Sylar's retreating back stumbles and, for a brief moment, goes down.

They aren't the only ones fighting.

Dean doesn't shout at Jack, he just punches him.

Hard.

"Don't. Shoot. Him."

GODDAMN IT IS EVERYONE HERE CRAZY?