Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this.
This story begins at the exorcism scene in Born Under A Bad Sign.
Parting Gifts ~ Part One
The fire in the hearth behind Sam flared, and the room began to shake. Sam continued to chant Latin, though Dean didn't understand the words.
"This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?" Dean shouted over the rumble of the room.
Bobby circled Sam, wondering what the hell was happening. He spotted something on Sam's arm, and he pulled back the shirtsleeve to get a better look. His heart sank.
"It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"
Dean looked panic-stricken. "What the hell do we do?"
Bobby threw up his hands. "I don't know!"
Sam threw back his head and screamed. A force rumbled through the room, cracking the walls.
Dean looked up and gaped as the devil's trap Sam was set under was broken as the ceiling broke.
Sam lowered his head and Dean saw that his eyes were now an onyx black. He tilted his head to the side. "There. That's better."
He jerked his head to the left, and Bobby flew into the wall, smacking into a painting and smashing the glass. He locked eyes with Dean and jerked his head to the right. Dean flew back, landing against the think doorframe. Pain shot through him as his gunshot wound was jarred. He dropped the flask of holy water as his right hand came up to cradle his injured shoulder.
Sam flexed his arms and the ropes binding him to the chair broke.
"You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing?" Sam said as he stalked over to Dean. "They say it's like hell." He knelt in front of Dean and fisted his shirt in his hand. With his free hand, he punched Dean on the jaw. "You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um, well, it's like hell. Even for demons. It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear, and you sent me back there." He punctuates his words with punches.
Dean sneered at Sam's word caught up with him. He knew he they were dealing with now. "Meg."
"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam."
Dean swallowed thickly. Now he knew who was in there it was possible to see past his brother's familiar façade to the monster that had stolen his body.
Sam punched him once more and Dean's vision blurred.
"By the way, I saw your Dad there - he says "howdy." She pressed a hand to Dean's shoulder and dug her thumb into his bullet wound. Dean groaned and tried fruitlessly to pull Sam's hand away. "All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day and that I was going to torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect."
Dean tried desperately to move Sam's hand from his shoulder; the pain was agonizing. Sam shoved Dean's hand away and pressed in deeper.
"But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you."
Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear these truths spoken from the mind of a demon with his brother's voice.
"I'll find a way to get you out of him," Dean said. "And you will be sent straight back to hell."
Sam smiled. "Oh, I don't think you will, Dean. You see, I took out a little insurance when I took on Sam's body."
Sam pulled up the front of his shirt, and Dean's heart contracted painfully in his chest. There was a bloody wound on Sam's stomach. It looked deep, and from its position, Dean knew that it had done some serious internal damage. He felt sickened.
Sam laughed. "See the dilemma now. You can send me back to hell, but you will be killing your brother. This is only a taste of the damage I can do to this body. I'm leaving, and if you follow me, I will make sure little Sammy is the one to pay. He's still in here you know, and he's very happy right now. You have no idea how much he enjoyed beating down on you."
Dean knew he was lying, Sam would never want to hurt him, but the words hurt almost as much as the wound on his shoulder regardless. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't let Meg walk away in Sam's body; there was no knowing the havoc she would wreak, but at the same time, he couldn't let Sam die. He was at a loss.
Then he saw Bobby standing behind Sam wielding a hot poker. He understood Bobby's plan at once, and he cried out a warning. "No, Bobby!"
Bobby pressed the poker against the binding mark on Sam's arm, scorching the flesh and destroying the mark.
Sam dropped to his knees and threw back his head. Black smoke poured out of his mouth, billowing against the ceiling and disappearing out of the window. As the last of the smoke left him, Sam flopped backwards. Bobby caught him and cradled him in his arms.
Dean lurched forward, not feeling the renewed pain in his arm, and caught Sam's collar. "Get off of him!" he snapped at Bobby, dragging his brother away from the older hunter and into his own arms. "You've killed him!" He sat back on his haunches and cradled Sam in his arms.
Sam felt control return to him, and he jerked in his brother arms. Pain seared through his stomach, and he looked down at the blood that was pooling on the front of his shirt.
"Dean?" he said in a weak voice.
"I'm here," Dean said, reaching around Sam to grip his hand. "I'm here, and you're going to be fine."
Bobby knelt beside Sam and Dean and gingerly lifted the front of Sam's shirt to expose his wounded stomach. Now Meg had left Sam's body, the blood was freely flowing from the wound.
Bobby hissed between his teeth, and he pressed a wad of gauze to the wound. Sam flinched away from his touch, and Dean winced with him.
"It's okay, boy," Bobby said softly, putting pressure on the wound. "Dean, can you hold this. I need to call an ambulance."
Reluctantly, Dean eased Sam to the floor and held a hand to the gauze, trying to stem the flow of blood.
"How bad is it?" Sam asked in a breathy voice. He was scared to look down and see the damage for himself. It had been bad enough to feel the burn as Meg had slipped the knife into his flesh. That pain had only lasted a second for Meg, but Sam had felt it all in the recesses of his own mind that was all that was left to him when Meg took control.
"It's not bad at all," Dean lied. "We're going to fix you right up."
"Okay." Sam nodded. He had complete faith in his brother. If Dean said he was going to be okay, he would be. Dean wouldn't lie to him.
"The ambulance is coming," Bobby said coming back into the room.
Dean nodded curtly. He was furious with Bobby for risking Sam like this, but now wasn't the time to air those thoughts. He would get Sam taken care of first, and then he would deal with what Bobby had done.
Sam's eyelids were growing heavier. Each time he blinked, it was a battle to open them again. He wanted to give into the darkness that was encroaching on his vision, but he knew that would be a bad idea. If he gave in now, he may never open his eyes again.
"Sammy!" Dean saw Sam's struggle, and he panicked. He tapped Sam's cheek. "C'mon, buddy, you have to stay awake."
"M'tired," Sam slurred.
"I know you are, man, but you have to stay awake."
Sam nodded dozily.
"I mean it, Sammy. Keep awake."
The gauze was becoming soaked with Sam's blood, and Dean knew Sam couldn't stand to lose much more.
Bobby moved Dean's hand for a second while he piled more clean gauze onto the wound.
"Dean," Sam said in a slurred voice. "Why didn't you shoot?"
"We'll talk about it later, Sammy." As pleased as Dean was to hear his brother talking, he didn't want to have that conversation. His reasons for not shooting were simple; Sam was his brother. It didn't matter how much wrong he did, he couldn't hurt him. It went against every fiber of his being.
"'Kay," Sam said sleepily, and his eyes fell closed.
"Hey, Sammy. Eyes open, buddy." Dean tapped his cheek roughly.
Sam struggled to open his eyes again, but it was too much effort to manage. Thinking he would try again as soon as he got some sleep, he allowed the darkness to overtake him.