Hola! I'm back. I just wanted to apologize about Dealing with Dead Men. I feel very unmotivated to continue the story, so it may be on perm hiatus. Again, sorry about that.
Pre-series They didn't first know her as Meg. They knew her as Sam.
Warnings: Mentions of rape.
Mentions of substance abuse.
A few F-Bombs and some swearing.
R&R. I don't care if this is the worst thing you've read, just please review. If I get more than 50 reviews, I'll write a prequel about what happened between the demon and John. Also, John is OOC, only because I want him to be. Anyways, here's Don't Fear the Reaper. The title is the name of a song by Blue Oyster Cult. Originally called Laugh, I nearly Died.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Ugly."
The demon grunted and opened her eyes, a dull throbbing at the back of her head. She tried to move but couldn't. For a moment she thought she was paralyzed, but then remembered the hunters. They probably tied her up to a chair. The demon's suspicions were confirmed. She looked up and saw Dean, the younger Winchester. The boy was rather handsome but he was a cocky son of a bitch with his smartass remarks and smug attitude. He was sitting in a chair a couple of meters away from her. She looked up and saw a Devil's Trap drawn on the ceiling above her. Though, what the demon didn't see surprised her…
"Where's Papa Bear?" She asked, not ready to give up her sarcastic demeanor.
Dean smiled and moved closer towards her, pulling his chair behind him. "Oh don't worry, he'll be here soon enough."
The demon smiled at him with false happiness. "Great, I was just missing him."
The boy looked at her curiously. "A demon, eh?"
"So, Johnny filled you in on the missing details? I mean, a few hours ago you were shaking with fear. I mean I knew you weren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, Dean, but the tooth fairy? Really?"
Dean's smile faltered for a second. He rubbed his face and then said, "Oh, don't worry. He did fill me up on the missing details. Even told me nine different ways to whoop your sorry ass back to hell."
The demon formed an 'O' with her mouth, then said, "Ooh, tough guy. You know, it's kind of a turn on."
Dean shifted, uncomfortable.
The demon laughed. "What? Just because I'm a demon, doesn't mean that I don't have a sex. Yeah, I'm a girl."
Dean nodded slowly. "Really? 'Cause I thought you were nothing more than a thick black line of ugly with a bad case of smartass."
The demon glared at him.
"Okay, if you are a girl, then why'd you jump him?"
The demon's smile returned. "Aww, come on, Dean. You know this one. I wanted to see how long it would take for you to waste Sammy-dearest."
"Well, looks like your little plan didn't exactly pan out."
The demon pulled Sam's face up in a small smile. "Oh, give it a minute."
Dean gave her the stink-eye, and then yelled, "Dad, its sucking air."
The demon never would've expected that this was how she'd be exposed.
She had possessed Sam for about a year and a half now, and John still didn't know. So much for "the great hunter, John Winchester". She was amazed that she managed to get away with it as long as she did. How the hell did the man not know that his own son was possessed? Especially if that man was known to be of the best hunters currently alive. My ass, the demon thought bitterly. She assumed that he thought Sam just started hanging out with the wrong crowd, getting into the wrong stuff. That wouldn't have been so far fetched, if he had any friends. But the boy didn't. In his entire lifetime, the only people who have ever actually cared for him asides from his family would've been Amy and a boy named Barry. But, one was dead; the other was a monster, literally. The demon found that rather amusing though, to be quite honest.
They were in South Dakota hunting a demon—go figure—which also happened to be Dean's first hunt where the creature didn't just live on the impulse eat destroy eat destroy eat destroy eat destroy. So yeah, it was a big deal for him and John. Sam, er, the demon, not so much. Like hell she was gonna let those freakin' hillbilly wannabes harm any of her brethren. Okay, not true, she couldn't care less for any other demon asides from herself and the ones she knew and trusted. Only, she knew that demon. It was her brother. She had already planned how she was going to screw up the hunt, and Dean and John would've bought it too, considering the fact that they knew Sam wasn't as good of a hunter as they were. He could've been just as good if wanted too. But he didn't. The demon wasn't too crazy 'bout the thought of being a hunter either.
John was just explaining to them, well Dean, how to be sure who was the demon in a crowded place. I mean, you wouldn't want to go around spraying everyone with holy water. Actually, you could, but you'd seem pretty insane and the demon would definitely know something was up. All it took to know who was human and who was demon was just one simple word. Christo. That's where it all went downhill for the demon. Her eyes flickered and Sam's once hazel eyes were replaced by cold, black ones. This was definitely not good.
Dean's eyes went wide as he saw his brothers' go black. The fuck? That wasn't supposed to happen. His father only said that a demon's eyes would flicker. So why did Sam's? Sam was more likely to be the freakin' tooth fairy than a demon! Dean didn't have a chance to answer his question, as his fathers' sudden movement pulled him out of his thoughts. A fist went flying and Sam fell down. It took a moment for him to realise what had just happened. Christo. Demon. Sam. Father. Fist. Down. Okay, so his dad knocked his brother out. Actually, his father knocked the fugly bitch out.
"The hell!" Dean yelled loudly, a hint of fear in his voice. "Dad, why were Sam's eyes black?"
"It wasn't Sam." His father replied nonchalantly.
"So you just knocked him out?" Dean replied angrily.
"I knocked the demon out, and I don't like that tone, boy," his father growled in turn.
After a second of hesitation, Dean mustered "I'm sorry, sir."
His father nodded in reply and then muttered, "We're taking him to Sioux Falls."
"Why?" Dean asked.
"Because I said so," his father replied, not unkindly.
The demon laughed when she heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. John and Bobby walked into the room, each glaring at the demon. She could feel Sam struggling harder as he attempted to regain control of his body, but the boy wasn't strong enough.
"Whoa, Sammy, calm down. I can feel you struggling in there," she said aloud, hoping to piss the hunters off even more than they already were.
She flashed John a pleasant smile and said, "Sam says 'hi' by the way."
"You son of a bitch," he growled, anger emanating from his face.
She gasped in false shock. "Such language, John. Is that anyway to speak in front of a guest?"
"No offense, Sweetheart," Dean interfered, "but nobody invited you."
"Sam did," she sing-songed.
"Excuse me?" Bobby asked. The older hunter had his arms crossed over his chest and he was leaning against a wall. He was still surprised that Sam had been possessed this entire time. Who knows how long the kid was actually gone.
The demon smiled but remained silent.
"Is it a kinky thing? You know, jumping kids," John hissed.
The demon continued to smile, but John could tell he struck a nerve.
He leaned in and supported himself by holding both armrests. "Oh, so that's it, isn't it?" He moved away and began laughing to anger the demon. "A perverted demon! Who knew?"
"It's not so funny when it's your boy that I jumped, now is it, John?" She cocked Sam's head and watched in amusement as John's laughter was now replaced by an angry glare. If looks could kill, the demon would've died then and there.
"Now you listen to me, you fugly bastard, if you think that this is some kind of a game, you are sorely mistaken. I—"
"Game? You think that I think that is some kind of a game?" For the first time since the demon woke up, it seemed truly angry. "This is payback! You humans think that you can prance around and do whatever the fuck you want, right? Well you're wrong!"
"The hell you goin' on about?" John asked, truly confused.
"Oh don't play dumb, Johnny-Boy. You know exactly what I'm talking about." John still didn't seem to remember. "You don't remember me?"
John was about to say 'no' when he remembered. He sucked in his breath and whispered, "Shit."
The demon grunted in pain and began pulling harder against her restrains. There was an awful sizzling sound and smoke began rising off of her meat suit, Sam. To a human, it would've felt like sulfuric acid was poured all over them. Those damn things would've been squirming all over the place, like a fish out of water. Humans were so weak it was almost sad. But the demon and her brethren were stronger than those cockroaches called humans. They took pain well and it was really hard to get them to crack.
Dean winced at the horrible sound and despite what his father told him, couldn't help but feel that they were hurting Sam as well as the demon. His little brothers' face was contorted in pain and anger. Dean had one job and one job only, and that was to protect Sam. Man, did he fail miserably. He edged away from the chair where his little brother was tied up against and made his way to the bathroom. He felt so sick; he didn't notice Bobby following him.
"Dean, you okay?" The older man asked.
Dean stopped, his back still facing Bobby. "Yeah, I'm fine."
But Bobby knew he wasn't fine. "Is it the demon or Sam," he asked.
"Both," Dean admitted.
Bobby grabbed Dean's shoulder and turned the young hunter around to face him. "Listen to me, Dean, this isn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done to stop this."
"Dean, this is not your fault," Bobby repeated, his voice firm.
"Look, I get it. I know, this isn't my fault," Dean said, unconvinced.
"Damn it, kid! You and I both know that you don't really believe that!"
"Well, Bobby, what'dya want me to say? The kid was my responsibility! I should've known that something was wrong! I mean, who knows how long he was really possessed! I didn't even know he was possessed up until this morning."
"That's because you've never really known about demons up until this morning!" Bobby sighed. "Listen, I know your kicking yourself for this, but let's be honest, none of us knew he was possessed. This isn't entirely your fault. John and I are just as much to blame, ya damn idjit!" Bobby offered him a smile, but Dean just scowled and turned his head. "Look, we know now, and we will get rid of this demon. And you know what? Sam's gonna be fine, because he always is. Now how 'bout you stop feeling sorry for yourself and go help your little brother."
Dean smiled slightly and nodded. Then he turned around and left, still unconvinced that this wasn't his fault. He wouldn't let Bobby or his dad know he felt that way, because he absolutely hated getting speeches. But he was convinced that Sam would be all right. Not because of what Bobby said, but because the kid was always all right. He had to be. Little did Dean know, he was so wrong.
"Back so soon?" The demon taunted as she saw Dean and Bobby re-enter the room. "What's wrong, Dean-o? Can't stand to see little Sammy hurt?"
Dean glared at the demon. "Dad, why don't you just send that fugly bitch back to hell already?"
The demon smiled, and then said in mock innocence, "Daddy here wanted to know why I took poor wittle Sammy."
"Demons' giving me jack squat," he said aloud, a smile on his face.
The demon moved a little to the side, a little uncomfortable as to why John was happy by this.
"I'm sorry, but I fail to see what's so great about this?" The demon said, slightly worried, though she wasn't about to let it show.
"It means I get to send you back right now unless you tell me what I want to hear." John said.
"You send me back right now and you'll never know," the demon hissed.
John smiled, "I wouldn't worry to much about it. Now unless you tell me what I want to hear, I think you know the rest..."
There was a moments' silence, but the demon didn't speak up.
"Fine then," John said nonchalantly, handing Bobby an old book, "have it your way."
On cue, Bobby began chanting an incantation and within moments, the demon began shaking. Every few moments, John would signal Bobby to stop and then begin to interrogate the demon, only to have it refuse to answer. They were about a quarter way through the exorcism when the demon finally gave in.
"Stop!" She said, Sam's voice diminished. "Stop, please. I-I'll tell you."
Satisfied, John took a few steps back and motioned for the demon to continue.
The demon tried to catch her breath. She was exhausted and the pain she felt like was like that of a human whose bones were being ripped straight from their body. She felt her self being forced up painfully and she just couldn't take it. She wasn't as strong as her father, Azazel, or her teacher, Alastair. She couldn't handle this.
" It was perfect. Sam was all depressed after leaving his 'girlfriend'—"
"Girlfriend?" Dean asked, astonished. He didn't even know Sam liked anyone.
"Amy," the demon said, irritated. "Amy Pond."
Sam grumbled and tried to focus on his food. Their father was gone hunting a poltergeist so Sam was stuck with Mr. Downstairs-Brain. They were in Tampa at some greasy diner, and as usual, Dean was flirting with a waitress. It had been a week since he last saw Amy, and man did he miss her. He didn't even know if she was still alive. After all, hunters were everywhere and Amy was exactly what they hunted.
"'Kay, bye Dean." The waitress, Kelly, winked at Dean and slowly turned around, sashaying her hips with more force then needed. Dean didn't seem to notice however, and watched her leave, a smile at his lips.
"I just scored a date with Kelly tonight, Sammy. Pray that I get lucky. Please." Dean practically moaned the last word.
Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. He whacked him on the arm, gaining his attention.
"Dude! What?" Dean growled, rubbing his arm.
Sam shook his head in disapproval. "You do realise that you're going on a date with two different girls on the same night?"
Dean scratched his head, confused. "Really?"
Disbelief again. "Audrey?"
Dean smiled. "Oh yeah. Oh, don't worry Sam. Big brother's got this all under control."
Sam turned away and mumbled into his food, "Yeah, I'd like to see how this plays out."
Dean nudged Sam lightly. "What, you don't have faith in me, Sammy?"
Sam grunted. "No, and it's Sam. Sammy was a chubby 12 year old."
A look of genuine confusion replaced Dean's smile. "Wait, you're not 12?"
This earned him another whack.
"Hey Dean, I'm going back to the motel," Sam announced a couple of moments later as he started for the exit.
Dean got up after him and pulled Sam back to their table. "You're not going alone."
Sam sighed. He loved Dean, he really did, and he appreciated his brother looking out for him, but sometimes it was a little too much. Sam just wanted to walk to the motel alone.
"Dean, it's just a half hour walk. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal? Sam, you're my responsibility and—"
Sam cut him off. "Dean, I'm not 4 anymore. You don't have to baby me. Look, I'll be fine. And besides, I thought you had a date."
"Yeah, later today."
"Actually Dean, you have two dates later today. Why don't you go meet up with Audrey now? It'll save you a lot of trouble. Besides," Sam grinned, "you might get lucky twice."
"Sam, I dunno." Dean was hesitant to leave Sam alone. After Douglas, Wisconsin, he swore that he'd never leave the kid alone ever again.
"Dean, please." Sam gave his brother his biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes and watched his brother melt in front of him. The puppy dog eyes never failed.
Dean sighed reluctantly, and agreed. He told his brother to keep his phone open at all times, and that if he let it ring more than once, Dean was going to drive back 'home' and maul his ass if he was okay.
Sam just smiled. Classic Dean.
He made his way to the door and left.
Sam had been walking for about 15 minutes when it all happened. There was a car parked on the side of the road in front of a townhouse a few meters in front of him. A very pretty woman was reaching into the car. She grabbed two bags and closed the car door before she began walking towards the townhouse. She was halfway up the stairs when she tripped and fell and dropped her bags. Sam rushed towards her and helped her up. The woman offered him a small smile and said, "Oops. I'm such a klutz sometimes."
Sam returned her smile then reached down to get her bags. "Here, let me help you with those." He grabbed an orange that fell loose and stuffed it back in a bag and then he picked up both grocery bags and offered her one. "I can carry one for you if you like."
She smiled again and began walking up the stairs. Sam rushed forward after her.
"So, uh, which floor do you live on?"
The lady turned and looked at Sam, amused. "You're not gonna try and rob me are you?"
Sam blushed and then quickly said, "No, I, uh…"
The woman giggled. "I was just messing."
Sam's face turned a deeper red. "Right."
She laughed again and Sam allowed her to pass him. He hit his head lightly, and began scolding himself, whispering, "Seriously? God, I'm so stupid!"
After they reached her home, Sam returned her bag and headed for the door.
"Sam," Sam said.
"Sam, would you like to stay for some tea?" She looked at Sam critically and then said, "Or animal crackers?"
Sam's face went red again with embarrassment. This lady thought he was a freakin' baby! Sam shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, someone's expecting me."
"Oh, come on," she persisted, "just for a few minutes."
Sam began to refuse again, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer. Sam was reluctant to stay, but what harm would it do right? Besides, both his father and Dean were out. His dad on a hunt, his brother probably getting laid. "Um, okay. I guess."
"Oh, I'm Jen by the way," Jen said a second later. The name suited her. Jen
Jen smiled. "So, um, why don't you make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."
And just like that, Jen disappeared into the kitchen. Sam sat down on her brown leather sofa and began examining the place. It was small and cozy, nothing out of the ordinary. Except…
He stood up and quietly walked over towards the bookshelf. There were tones of books, each at least a few years old. But that's all they were, regular books. All except for one. It was thick and its cover was made of worn-out leather. There was no title on the book's spine. Sam slowly pulled the book out and examined it. On the cover there was a strange demonic symbol. Sam began flipping through the book when he saw it. A picture was pressed against two pages. Sam pulled the picture out and looked at it. It was a picture of a middle-aged man in fishing gear holding a fishing pole, but his face was crossed out in dried blood and Sam knew exactly what that meant. "She's a witch." Sam muttered under his breath.
"Actually," a voice, Jen's, came from behind him. "She's a demon. Man, I can't believe that this actually worked. I mean, didn't daddy tell you not to talk to strangers? Let alone follow them home."
Sam whirled around to face her, er, it, and pulled his silver pocketknife out of his pocket.
She laughed. "Oh please. Like that little pig poker is going to do anything."
She raised her hand and Sam went flying, bumping his head hard against a wall. Everything went blurry, but Sam forced himself up anyway only to be brought down by what Dean would've joked, 'the Force'. He looked up and saw 3 blurry Jens' a few feet away from him. A few seconds later it was back to one Jen. At least my vision's improving, Sam thought to himself bitterly.
"Sam Winchester," she said, smiling. "Son of John Winchester."
She walked over towards him, her heels clicking loudly, and kneeled on top of him. She smelled like blood and perfume. She raised a manicured hand and gently stroked his hair, whispering into his ear, "Why are you so sad?"
"Screw you," Sam hissed through gritted teeth.
"Amy, huh? You really liked her didn't you? And now that she's gone, you're really sad. Really, really sad. Oh, Sammy. Don't you know that having such strong feelings leaves you wide open for demonic possession?"
Sam gaped at her. No, this couldn't be happening. He wasn't going to get possessed. He couldn't!
"Oh, you're kidding right?" Her smile widened.
"I wish I were kiddo, but I am looking forward to prancing around in a brand new meat suit. This one's getting old." She raised her hand and presented her left pinky. It bent at an awkward level and was most definitely broken.
She smiled and moved in closer, then did something that only intensified Sam's fear.
"No! Don't! Get off of me!"
She shushed him with her mojo and grumbled almost angrily, "You know, I'm really getting sick of your voice, you whiny little bitch." She leaned in closer and…
"That's when you possessed him?" John asked, heartbroken by what the demon told him. The hunt in Tampa, that was little over a year ago. Same time the drugs and the fighting and the constant urge to slap his son somehow squirmed into the picture. That wasn't Sam at all. It was the black-eyed bitch!
The demon was visibly shaking with exhaustion; sweat beading down Sam's forehead. His head hung limply, and his bangs covered his eyes. The demon looked up at him through Sam's bangs without raising Sam's head, something Dean always found a little creepy.
It started laughing maniacally and then breathed, "No, that's when I screwed him so hard he couldn't tell left from right."
All three hunters stared in shock.
"You're lying," Dean gasped.
The demon laughed again. "Whatever you say, tiger."
"'Cause I swear to God, if you laid so much as a finger on him—" Dean roared, only to be interrupted by the demon.
"You can threaten me all you want, you little piece of insignificant filth! It doesn't stop the fact that I raped your baby brother, then forced him beg to me to keep away from you animals. Oh, and Dean? For an atheist, you sure do have a lot of faith in God."
"That's it, send it back to hell."
The demon was scared and in pain, and she knew hell would do that no good, but she was going back to Candyland one way or another, so why not mess with the Winchesters a bit longer while she could.
"Do you want to know what I did to him after that? Oh my, was the boy crying! Or how about how I forced Sam to kill innocent people, and how broken Sam is inside?"
The demons' breaths were more strained now, and the pain it felt was almost unbearable. Almost.
"How about what Sammy did to your hunter friend, Jeffrey? Or how about how he—"
The demon was cut off as the chair she was tied up against began moving within the Devil's Trap. Bobby only began reciting the exorcism louder, trying to ignore the sudden wind blowing pages of old books that were all over the place. The demon knew that this wasn't going to end well unless she did something to stall them for a bit longer. Confident she could regain control of the body later, she sunk deeper in Sam's body and let him take control for a few minutes.
Sam gasped and looked around. Wait a minute, he turned his own head! He began moving his fingers as a test and he passed. Did that mean that the demon was gone? No, Bobby was reciting an exorcism and he was tied up against a chair. His brother and his father stared at him with hate-filled eyes.
His eyes stung with tears and he said, "Dad? Dean?"
Bobby stopped and looked at the demon, or maybe it was Sam. Whoever or whatever it was, Bobby didn't continue the exorcism.
His brother's expression softened immediately, but his dad's remained hard. "Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam nodded weakly.
"It's me." The tears now fell freely down his cheeks.
"You're not Sam. How stupid do you think I am?" John said vehemently.
"Dad, it's me. Really."
"Alright, fine, tell me something only Sam would know," his dad said, his voice cold.
"Um, okay. I was six, you promised that we could go on a picnic, but then a hunt came up. Dean told me that you were away for work. I was so mad that I threw a vase at his head. Left him a goose egg the size of an actual goose egg for a week."
Dean chuckled at the memory, and John's expression softened. "Sammy," he whispered, his own tears gathering in his eyes.
They all sat in happy silence for the next few moments, one of the happiest moments in Dean's life. I mean, he got his brother back! But that moment didn't last long.
John's vision was blurred by the tears collecting in his eyes, but that didn't stop him from knowing something was horribly wrong. Sam let out a cry of pain and began shaking. "D-dad, t-the demon… sh-she's still in me."
"She?" Bobby said aloud.
"Dad!" Sam screamed, the boy sounded scared and exhausted.
Sam began shaking even harder, and his vision began swimming. He barely heard Dean and John call for him.
A moment later and the pain went away. Sam was feeling better, but he felt stuffy on the inside. Then his head shot up with supernatural speed. What the hell? He cocked his head and he felt a smile coming at his lips. Why was he smiling?
"Play nice, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you talk to Sammy-boy again," Sam heard himself say. Only it wasn't him saying it. It was the goddamned demon. Fuck.
John was beyond pissed now, and Dean looked like he was going to burst into tears any moment, which surprised the demon. Dean wasn't usually one to be so overcome with emotion, but then again, this was Sam they were talking about. Dean would die for the kid. The demon would too, though, had it come to that. But, they both had different reasons. Dean would die because he loved Sam, the demon because she wanted her leader to walk again. Maybe she shouldn't have jumped him… Eh, there were other special children out there, though none as experienced and well suited for the position as Sam. Well, what're you gonna do right? Besides, nobody had to know, and the Winchesters didn't even know her name. They weren't gonna say anything.
Sam was stunned. He knew exactly what the demon was thinking. That never happened before. He had been able to talk, or rather yell at the demon before, and he occasionally knew its intentions, but not this.
The demon let Sam in on her thoughts, or at least certain ones. She wanted to scare the kid because he should be scared. She was gonna kill him. Well, actually, the Winchesters were. They were going to exorcise her, and though the demon couldn't do anything about that, she would be pleased to know how this little act was going to kill their baby. This little act was going to kill Sam. The demon gave up on trying to escape. Hell was like, well, hell, but she would escape sooner or later. She was still terrified though. There were no words that could describe the pain that hell brought on. She wasn't ready for it. She never was. The first time was the most excruciating, maybe because she'd been there for 2,000 years and because she was human. The second and third were also unbearable, though not as bad as the first one. She herself wasn't tortured those times, but the fire still scorched her form. And the fire was about to burn her again.
He couldn't believe this! The demon called him a 'special child', whatever that meant. And Sam was supposedly supposed to be the demon's leader. What did that mean? Sam didn't know, but he was petrified. Was he supposed to go dark side or something? He began struggling even harder to regain control. Harder than ever before.
A demonic voice stopped him. It sounded like the girl's from The Exorcist. Stop or I'll kill your precious little family. Or what's left of your family, anyways. You know, momma Winchester sacrificing her pathetic little life for your even more pathetic one and all.
If Sam controlled his body right now, he would've froze. His mom died for him? No, that couldn't be it. So then, why did he believe it? Demons lie. But maybe…
Ignoring her last comment, Sam thought, You're kind of not the boss here right now. I'd like to see you try and kill them.
Sam could feel the demon's anger rising, but it was restrained. You know, Sam. I can't wait for your family to exorcise me. We've been bunk buddies for how long now? I think it's time one of us moves out.
You do realise that that person is you.
You're wrong baby, it's the both of us.
"I'm done dealing with it," John said, pulling Sam out of their little conversation. "Send it back to hell and don't stop for anything," he said in a voice that was controlled and calm, though his face was growing redder by the second.
Bobby gave John a quick, almost unsure glance, but continued the exorcism.
Showtime, the demon sneered.
Sam began panicking. He didn't want to die, though he knew he would. About a week ago, they were in Missouri hunting a werewolf, 'Sam' and Dean's second ever. They met Jeffrey; one of John's old friends during the hunt and the hunter immediately knew something was off about Sam. The demon or Sam didn't know how, but Jeffrey was sure Sam wasn't really Sam. He never told John or Dean that, but he confronted the demon in his cabin when Dean and John were out. He was almost successful in capturing and exorcising her, but the demon managed to kill him before she got into any serious trouble. Sam wasn't so lucky however. He was stabbed in the stomach three times with a blade soaked in holy water in an attempt to slow down the demon. Sam felt the pain, but he couldn't scream and clutch his stomach to prevent his insides from spilling, because the demon wouldn't let him. His insides didn't spill out, but he lost a lot of blood. So much blood, and demon let it happen. Leverage, Sam guessed, in case the demon ever got caught. The moment they got rid of the demon, they got rid of Sam. What Sam didn't get though, was why it didn't tell them that. Why would it want to go back to hell? It didn't of course. So why? To screw with the Winchesters, that's why. One more death could possibly destroy them, which is exactly what the demon wanted. And now Sam was gonna pay the price.
He felt himself grow weaker as the demon was slowly losing its strength, the strength that kept him alive so far. He felt the pain grow more intense, the numb sensation slowly melting away. His heart began beating fast and irregularly, thanks to the demon. If the blood loss didn't kill him, then the coke overdose surely will.
He could feel how exhausted the demon was, how scared. But he didn't care. The demon did after all force him down on his knees, made him feel absolutely filthy. It made him kill people, made him hurt his family. The demon deserved everything it was about to get and more.
The exorcism was almost done when the demon began screaming in pain. John watched in satisfaction as the thing that had hurt his Sammy was finally going to hell, literally. The demon didn't look like a demon anymore, it's cold face replaced by one of hopelessness and pain. But then, the demon forced a crooked, sadistic smile on Sam's face before Sam's head fell back and the demon was pulled out of his mouth, the black smoke being forced down through the very small cracks between the wooden floor planks straight to hell.
Sam's eyes fell shut and his head hung limply behind his back. Moments later, Dean and John rushed forward towards him, untying him from the chair and carefully carrying him before setting him down on the floor gently. John patted him on the cheek lightly, in an attempt to wake him up. "Sam? Hey, buddy, wake up."
Sam stirred and opened his eyes as much as he could, which wasn't much. He saw three large figures looming over him, who he correctly assumed was his dad, his brother and his 'uncle'. Now that the demon was gone, there was nothing keeping him alive. His vision got darker, but only for a moment.
"Dad?" he muttered, his voice failing him. His father smiled at him. "Dean?"
He felt something wet on his cheek, and he noticed that Dean's eyes were wet.
"Yeah, 's me," his brother responded with a sad smile.
Sam mumbled something unintelligent and his closed his eyes.
His dad shook him awake and said, "Sam, you're going to have to stay awake for me, okay? Can you do that?"
Sam nodded slowly, deprived of most of his energy. "H'rts," he whispered.
"What does? Where's it hurt?" His father asked, the worry visible in his voice.
When Sam didn't respond, Dean said, "Sammy, you got to tell us where it hurts okay? You'll be fine as long as you tell us."
But Sam knew he wasn't going to be fine. He paused for a moment, and then reluctantly said "Stomach." He wasn't lying, his stomach did hurt, but then again, so did everywhere else. Everywhere.
His brother nodded at him, smiling, but Sam could see the pain in his eyes. They all knew what was coming. He felt the breeze against his stomach as his dad rolled up his shirt to examine the wound.
"Aw, hell," Bobby muttered, horrified at what he saw. There were three stab wounds that were stitched shut. The stitches were messy and horribly done and one was even infected, yellow pus oozing out of the wound, but the demon only wanted the bleeding to stop which the stitches provided. His stomach wasn't even bandaged. The demon just wore lots of layers to try and cover up the pus leaking out through the shirt. All three hunters could tell that the wounds were pretty deep and possibly fatal.
"Oh my God… Bobby, call the ambulance!" John whispered, his eyes growing large at the horrific sight in front of him. He looked up and saw his eldest, pure devastation written all over his face.
"No," Sam muttered weakly. "Don't."
"I'm sorry kiddo, but I have to." Bobby got up to leave but Sam grabbed his hand.
"I can't," Bobby said before slipping out of Sam's grip and quickly calling 911.
"Sam? Oh my god, what happened?" John said, his voice slightly shaky. He didn't want to show how upset he really was because he didn't want his boys to worry. Sam would be fine, right? Regardless, John did show his worry, and by the way Bobby looked back at him, he knew they were both thinking the same thing.
His baby didn't answer his question, but instead muttered, "'M s'rry, D'd."
The tears fell down now. "For what?"
"'S my fault. I let the d'mon get to me." Sam's eyes grew blurry with tears now, and he whispered, "'M sorry."
Sam's vision got a little darker and a little fuzzier, and now the voices sounded muffled.
"It's not your fault Sam. None of this is your fault," his brother quickly replied, cutting off John.
Sam didn't hear him however, and said, "The d'mon said she had somethin' planned for childr'n like me. She said I w's g'nna go ev'l or something. She said it was my fault mom died."
They all stared at him in shock.
Sam's vision began getting darker and he knew he was fading fast. It reminded him of something.
"'S better to burn out, than fade away," Sam whispered, a weak smile at his lips.
Dean returned his smile. Sam didn't like Def Leppard, but anyone knew that Dean was a huge fan. "He's right you know, it's better to burn out, so don't you go dying on me. Not like this." Dean's smile was replaced by a quivering lip and lots of unshed tears.
"You hear me?"
Sam nodded, "Believe me, if I could…"
"Don't you dare talk like that! Nothing's gonna happen."
Sam tried to blink away the tears. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make you mad."
Dean's heart broke a little. "Sam. Sammy, I'm not mad okay? You just scared me, is all."
"'Kay." Sam laughed a little. "'M still sorry."
Dean smiled back reassuringly. Then he remembered what the demon said. Oh God, please don't let it be true…
Dean frowned a little and then said, seeming a little more than hesitant, "Hey, the demon, she was lying right? The things she said before?"
This time, there was no holding back. Sam's tears fell freely. He wanted to tell his brother that the demon was lying. He wanted to tell him that she lied about everything, and that he never killed Jeffrey, he never slaughtered innocent people, she never raped him. But he couldn't. Dean could immediately tell that it all happened. His brother's face fell and his father's darkened. "Oh, Sammy…" His father whispered, though neither Sam, Dean nor Bobby heard him.
"Oh my…" Bobby's voice trailed off.
"Well, at least she'll get a nice tan, right?" Dean smiled, trying to prove to Sam that this was something funny, that when he got better, they'd laugh it off. Sam would've believed him, if his brother didn't look like there wasn't a damn hope in the world and that Sam was going to die. Sam was going to die.
Sam's eyes grew heavier and his vision darker. He was tired, but knew falling asleep would do him no good. But the darkness wouldn't stop. It kept coming. No matter how hard he tried, the darkness kept coming. He felt like he was being suffocated, unable to breath, and he was so weak, he could barely blink. His eyes started hurting, but the pain in his stomach faded. That wasn't good. No pain. No pain whatsoever. Almost as if it didn't happen. But it did. And now he was going to die.
It was a selfish thought. Not wanting to die. Sam knew it. But holy hell was he scared. He would never see his dad again, or Bobby, or Pastor Jim, or Caleb, or Joshua or anyone else he cared about. He'd never see Dean again. Then Sam saw it. A man in a black suit, his hair neatly combed back. He was old, each wrinkle pronounced. His skin was a dull gray and his large nose was hooked. But that wasn't what caught Sam's attention. It was his face. He was so thin; he looked like a skeleton. "Dean," Sam muttered, frightened. "Dad? What is that?" His father didn't get a chance to respond as the strange expressionless man walking towards him placed a hand on Sam's face and almost immediately, all of his remaining energy drained. He tried to pull the man's, no, the reaper's hand off of his face, but he was so weak that he could barely lift up his hand. Sam wanted to call out to his dad to help him, but he couldn't get himself to make a sound. He was sure he exhibited some kind of panic because he heard his father saying something to him that he couldn't at the moment comprehend. His father's voice soon reduced to a dulling hum. And just then did he realise that he couldn't breath. He opened his mouth and tried to suck in as much air as he could, but it seemed as if it had all disappeared. Sam was good at holding his breath, however, for some reason, it felt as if all the oxygen stored up in his lungs was burning itself out at a supernatural speed. Soon, his lungs began burning and he struggled for the air he didn't receive.
Everything was fading so fast. It wasn't fair. His vision began flickering and then it faded completely. He no longer saw his father cradling him, or his brother sitting at his side. He didn't see Bobby looming past Dean's shoulder, a worried look in his eyes. All he saw was black. Everything was black. But Sam knew it was all black. He was aware. It wasn't like when he was in a dreamless sleep, where he saw nothing but black. That black was comforting because Sam had no idea what was going on or who he even was then. The darkness just existed, being some sort of sanctuary. In that darkness, Sam forgot all about his troubles and pain in the outside world. But this was different. He remembered everything about himself. He remembered what just happened. And he was aware that he existed. Being in here was like being locked in a dark room all by yourself. Where was he? Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? Nowhere? The last one seemed to be the most legit.
"Hello?" he called, hoping someone could hear him. "Hello?" he cried again. "Somebody help me!" Still no response. He began calling louder, and he called until his voice grew hoarse, but still nobody helped him. He began running, trying to look for an exit, but there was none. The darkness just continued to stretch. He was stuck in the darkness forever. "HELP!"
"Dean?" Sam said suddenly, pulling them all out of their thoughts. He pushed himself closer to his dad, trying to inch himself away from something. "Dad? What is that?" His father was about to respond when Sam suddenly started choking. He opened his mouth but no air went in.
"Sammy?" Dean moved in closer towards Sam and shook his arm lightly.
Sam raised his hand weakly; he looked absolutely terrified. "Sam?" John called. Sam didn't respond, seemingly lost in some sort of trance. "Sam?" John mumbled again, shaking his youngest gently. Bobby moved in closer, trying to see what was happening. What was happening? Sam looked mortified and confused, before his eyelids slowly began closing. His breathing grew more strained and heavier, and then, nothing. His hand fell limply to his side and John felt his baby go motionless in his arms. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
"Sam?" Bobby called in alarm. The boy wasn't responding!
"Sammy?" John whispered, but he knew his son was gone. "Oh God. Sam, no…" He didn't even cry. He couldn't. Even if he wanted to, John knew he'd never let it out.
Bobby felt a lump at the back of his throat, and he could feel the silent tears streaming down his face, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his head away, refusing to look at the boy. He looked so vulnerable and sick, and Bobby just couldn't stand the sight of it. But not Dean. Not yet. He knew something was wrong with Sam, but he wasn't dead. Saying that Sam died was like saying the sun died. It just couldn't happen. Not yet.
"Sam?" He shook him lightly, trying to wake up his kid brother. Sam was asleep, is all. The kid was tired. He shook him again. And again. And again. And again. But Sam wasn't waking up. Okay, so he was really tired.
"Dean," John muttered. But his oldest wouldn't listen to him.
"Sam!" Dean screamed louder and shook his brother harder. He began shaking him violently when something pulled him back. It was Bobby. "No!" Dean pushed Bobby away and began shaking Sam really hard. "This isn't funny, you dick!" Dean began crying now. "Sam! Come on, nap time's over." And then it hit him. Hard. "Sam!" He began screaming louder. Bobby pulled the boy away again, but this time, Dean didn't fight it. "Oh, God no. Please! Sammy!" Dean buried his face in his hands and began crying.
This time, Sam wasn't waking up. He would never wake up. They all sat in silent agony, drowned in sorrow for the next few minutes until the sirens of the unneeded ambulance finally arrived. Too little, too late.