Hey everyone! Wow, so no excuse for the ridiculously long wait! I apologize to all because I know that I myself just hate to wait for an update. Things have just been absolutely insane here, but now that everything is back to normal I figured it was time I get back to writing! Yay! Anywho, things are not looking too good for Sammy right now, and don't worry you limpsam fans, more and more is coming. Oh the angst…haha, so I present chapter two! Happy reading! Also, an extremely heartfelt thank you to all reviewers and people who added this story to alert. You're the reason I write!


When Sam awoke next, skin tingling and leg burning, it was once more to the eerie, gruff humming rumbling from his shell of an older brother. He blinked repetitively, lashes wet and stuck together with dried tears, and his eyes slowly began to focus on the smiling face and emerald green eyes peering out from a welcoming facade.


It was hard…so hard…not to smile back for a moment, and in the split second Sam was still trying to obtain a firm grasp of reality, a part of him deep inside rejoiced at Dean's presence. But then he realized that the word 'presence' wasn't quite right, because even though Dean, in body, was there, he now sported a very unwelcomed guest.

Something warm snaked down Sam's neck, the sticky sensation of congealing blood pulling heavily on his cheek as if he'd accidentally smeared some stray substance there and then merely had forgotten to wipe it clean.

Dean smiled at him, calloused hands clapping once together in the dry imitation of the joy his elder sibling always seemed to emanate. Not Dean…NOT. Sam could perceive it so clearly, and he punished himself terribly for not detecting it right away. But how could he? Dean was grieving, reeling in the wake of John's death. He'd been angry, irritable, obstinate, reproachful, and of late, treated Sam like the plague. So yeah, in the brief time since Dean's return from yet another late night tryst, no doubt nursing his self destructive behavior, and the subsequent attack Sam found himself under, he hadn't noticed the slightest difference between dad's dead and I'm pissed Dean, and possessed by a demon Dean.

"Nice to see you awake, little brother. I was getting awfully lonely." Sam immediately took notice of the fact that the knife was still in the demon's hand, being juggled with careless ease, as if it were just another random knick knack one would happen to pick up and play with.

Sam glanced briefly down at his leg, surprised to find a tourniquet, most likely one of his t-shirts, tied nice and neat around the stab wound in his leg. He chuckled bitterly; Guess 'big brother' can't have me bleeding out before all the fun. At the sound of Dean's voice, to which Sam marveled how it could have ever come across as authentic, something burned in the depths within. He looked up, directly into the gleeful green gaze, and snarled "Go to hell."

Dean regarded him for several agonizingly long instances filled only with the sound of Sam's wheezing pants before he at last sighed, as if disappointed, and tossed the knife languidly aside. What Sam didn't expect, however, was the quick and alarmingly vicious back hand which snapped his head to the side, blood immediately pouring from lips forced against his teeth. The room spun in circles, the sting from the blow blossoming into a burning pain stretching across his clammy skin. Before Sam had a chance to gain his bearings, Dean snatched his chin between unforgiving fingers and twisted his face back around until he was staring right back into the demon's eyes.

Sam swallowed, determined not to show weakness but feeling as if he was doing nothing but. Dean smiled, "Been there, Sammy. Many, many times." The fingers gripping him only tightened, nails digging deep, and the previously friendly tone became laced with an undercurrent of malice, "Channel your inner Dean all you want, but we'll still know that my mere touch," the demon suspended its words, sending a shiver quite literally down Sam's spine, "makes you tremble inside like the snot nosed kid you are."

Never in Sam's life had he felt so much unadulterated hate for something. Sure, there was yellow-eyes, but he was always so intangible, so out of reach. But this…this was right was in front of him, in his brothers likeness, speaking, taunting, threatening to tear down what little world Sam had left! He was tempted, in the short relapse following the demon's words, to spit defiantly, but found, much to his chagrin, that his mouth had become dry, leading to the annoying realization that the creature was right.

He was terrified. Damn it…

Only when Dean punched him a second time did Sam comprehend that he'd been asked a question, but had not reciprocated an answer. "For a college boy you sure do have a short attention span." Black dots drifted across Sam's vision, blood pooling in his mouth. Dean stepped back, seeming to disregard whatever he'd inquired of the inattentive younger Winchester, and tapped his chin as if in contemplation. "You know, I see all, little brother."

Sam's bangs fell slightly over his eyes when he managed to right himself and the sensation of his head not being balanced quite right in consideration to the rest of his body caused his stomach to flip and turn. As if to assist him and ensure that his words were no longer ignored, the demon cupped both of Sam's cheeks with his hands, grip ruthlessly cruel, and rested his thumbs just below Sam's eyes.

"I see all, everything your big brother's got stored in here, I see it." Sam attempted to pull away, but found it impossible. Dean chortled, "Let me tell you, it's not pretty. I expected as much, of course, Sammy. But, there is just so much hate," the green eyes bore vehemently into Sam, burning deep into his soul and stripping him down to his dreadfully weak foundation, "so much resentment."

The demon leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over Sam's face, their foreheads virtually touching. "And all of this, all this nastiness your 'doting big brother' has harbored, you want to know who it's for? You."

Sam's chest heaved and his breath hitched, betrayed by his own body when he felt an indisputable sting in his eyes. "Is this what you're playing at?" His voice hissed, the movement causing a thin trickle of blood to leak from the corner of his lips. "Trying to make me believe your pathetic lies?"

The demon pulled back, releasing Sam's face before burying his fist deep into Sam's stomach. Unable to properly absorb the blow, Sam gasped; the air forced itself from his lungs and then he began coughing, sending wracks of pain traveling throughout his body. A hot tear escaped the corner of his right eye and crawled all the way down to the knife inflicted wound on his cheek where the salt water subsequently burned, as if someone were holding a lighter against his skin.

Dean knelt down this time until he was eye level with the struggling, writhing Winchester, as if taking great pity on him. He clucked his tongue, fingers gently and tenderly wiping the tear away. At the caring gesture, something inside of Sam recoiled and he was forced to swallow the bile determined to claw up his throat. "Demons may lie, little brother, but at least we don't lie to ourselves."

Even if Sam sought to protest, he found that he couldn't anyway. Words seemed to be stuck, his body uncooperative as it froze underneath the familiar, and usually endearing, warm gaze of his sibling. The yellowed and dimmed lighting overhead flickered momentarily, the strobe light effect simply adding the allusion of the deceitful green flashing to an abysmal black. The smile on Dean's face only widened, albeit shadowed by evil intentions and the insidious monster in control of his body. It then proceeded by tapping Sam once on the tip of his nose. "I was under the impression that you were the smart one, Sammy! Who knew I'd have so much to teach you…"

That was when Sam conceived that things were only going to get worse.