"You're not hungry, Dean, because inside you're already dead." Famine says, through yellow teeth. The two demons holding Dean tighten their grip on him.
"Let him go." Sam says, and Dean looks to the door of the diner. Sam's face is smeared with blood, and his eyes are feral.
Famine turns his chair around and looks at Sam with something like reverence, "Sam!"
"Sammy, no." Dean gets out as two of Famine's guards move to attack Sam.
"Stop!" Famine yells, "No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy. Sam, I see you got the snack I sent you."
Sam frowns, "You sent?"
"Don't worry," Famine says, "you're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule, just the way Satan wanted you to be."
Dean feels his stomach drop out from under him.
Famine gestures to the demons at his side, "So - cut their throats. Have at them!"
All five of Famine's demons look at Sam with confusion, anger and fear. Sam smells their fear. It blends with the sulfur scent of their blood and he inhales deeply.
"Sam, no!" Dean pleads.
Sam raises his right hand and the two demons holding Dean start to choke. They let go of Dean, and fall to the ground, gasping. Dean picks up Ruby's knife from the floor and turns around to face the demon behind him, but that demon is now pinned to the rear wall. The two demons flanking Famine seem rooted to the ground.
Sam walks to the demon on Famine's left and in one swift motion pulls the collar down with his right hand, bends the neck with his left and bites down, hard.
"Sam." Dean says one more time. He looks over to Castiel, but the angel is still on his knees stuffing his mouth full of ground meat. Dean looks at the dagger in his hand and tries to work up the nerve to get Famine's ring.
Sam lets the demon he's holding fall to the floor with a thump.
Famine chuckles, "That's my boy."
Sam moves to the demon on Famine's right. The demon says, "Don't-" but Sam cuts him off, and drains him dry.
Dean doesn't know why he's watching. He should be doing something, but he can't. Sam isn't using his mojo on him - at least, he doesn't think Sam is.
Famine turns his chair so he can watch Sam as he moves around the room to the other three demons. They don't fight him. They can't.
When Sam is done, he's covered in blood. His face and hands are glistening with red, and his hair is stained black with it. The air in the diner feels thick, like just before a storm breaks.
Dean thinks he should feel sick. He should feel something, but he just stands there, watching Sam get closer and closer. Dean moves back a few steps and half falls into one of the diner booths. Sam stands in front of him and his stare is unnerving.
Dean remembers why they're here, and tries to remind Sam "We need to get Famine's -"
"You smell like them." Sam says, leaning forward, his arm resting on the tabletop. "Not completely, not as strong, but it's there." Sam smiles, and his teeth look like they're bleeding. "They're immune to Famine too, you know. All we need to do is push you - just a little bit further."
Dean wants to yell. He wants to scream at his brother, punch him until he snaps out of it, until he understands again.
Sam cocks his head and says, "You think you can snap me out of it?" Sam laughs. "Go ahead and punch me Dean, if it makes you feel better."
From behind them Famine speaks, "Sam. You've had your fill, but I'm still hungry."
Sam closes his eyes and stands up straight. He turns to face Famine and raises his right hand.
Famine chuckles, "I'm a Horseman Sam. Your power doesn't work on me."
"You're right." Sam smirks, "Remind me again, what did you have to eat today?" Sam closes his hand in a fist and Famine gasps.
The souls Famine consumed explode out of him and the Horseman's face twists in pain. He stops moving, his mouth frozen open, gaping. Sam slides Famine's ring off his finger and tosses it onto the table next to Dean.
Castiel stops eating the raw meat, and stares at Sam with an equal mix of wonder and disgust. He's gone a moment later.
Sam laughs, "Coward."
"He's our friend, Sam." Dean snaps.
"Is he?" Sam says flatly, but keeps his back turned to Dean.
"Yeah, he is!" Dean says, "Just because you're drunk, or high right now or whatever, doesn't mean- " He huffs angrily, "You can't just - "
Sam is suddenly right there, standing by the table again, and Dean has no idea how he got so close, so quickly. "What, Dean? What can't I do?" You have no idea. None. Sam says, but he isn't speaking, not anymore. He's just smiling, and it's serene and terrifying. There's nothing I can't do. Nothing.
Dean swallows and moves back further onto the booth seat.