Sam scratched at his skin. He glanced around uneasily. The bunker was empty, there was no reason to feel like he was being watched.

Still, Sam had learned long ago to pay attention to his instincts. He did a quick sweep with the EMF reader, checked the wards. Nothing.

"There're enough monsters out there without making up some extra ones," he muttered to himself. "I need to get out of here."

He blinked. Dean was calmly cleaning one of the guns, scowl a permanent fixture on his face, as always. But hadn't he just—

"What do you want to eat for dinner?" Dean asked. When Sam didn't respond, he lifted an eyebrow, looking carefully at Sam's face. "Sam?"

"Uh, yeah, uh, I don't care," he stammered.

"Right."

Sam made a fumbling excuse and retreated to his room. He hadn't lost time like this since Meg. He knew the reason why. As soon as he was locked inside his room, he peeled off his shirt, examining the multiple tattoos he had against possession. All of them were intact. He swallowed holy water, tested Ruby's knife against his skin. It wasn't a demon.

Sam was suddenly pressed down, a sensation like he was drowning pulling at his lungs. He fought against it, biting his tongue until the taste of blood filled his mouth.

"Let go of me," he snarled.

A shooting pain went through his stomach. Distracted by the pain, Sam lost his grip on his control, and was overwhelmed. He fell under, into a place inside of himself, swallowed in a sensation all too familiar from when Lucifer had taken over his body.

The room they were in was a strange amalgamation of his old dorm at Stanford and the bunker. Jess' sweater was lying on the chair Sam had just been sitting in.

"Who are you?" he snarled, staring up at himself.

"I am the angel Gadreel. You will submit to me."

Sam bared his teeth. "Not likely. Angels have to ask permission. You never did. The consequences—"

Gadreel's blue eyes flickered as he laughed. "Oh, but you did, Sam."

The memory, suppressed by Gadreel, came rushing back. Sam swallowed against the urge to vomit. Dean . . . how could he have done that?

"You can't do this," he said.

"I can and I will." Gadreel waved his hand, and sent Sam flying backwards into the wall. "You may only watch. You will not interfere."

The dreaded place where Sam had been shoved, time and time again, rose up and encompassed him. It was the nightmare place; he felt in control—he talked, walked, felt—but none of it was of his own volition.

Sam's scream was soundless.


Dean stood close enough to the ring of holy fire to feel his shins heating up.

"Let Sam go."

Glowing blue eyes surveyed him. "I don't think so."

Dean scowled. "Why not?"

"He suits my needs," Gadreel said.

"Uh, Dean, what should I be doing?" Kevin whispered.

"Hang back," Dean muttered.

Gadreel laughed. "You should hear how hurt your brother is. That you betrayed him."

Dean ignored the way his heart skipped a beat. "You don't want to mess with me," he said. "If you're in my brother's head, you know what I'll do to save him."

"Exactly." Gadreel smiled, and then suddenly stumbled. The blue eyes disappeared, and Sam was staring at Dean as he fell straight into the flames.

The three of them cried out simultaneously—Sam from pain, Dean from anger, Kevin from panic. Without another option, Dean dragged Sam out of the fire, beating the flames out of his clothing.

His eyes flashed blue, and Dean was thrown backwards. Kevin yelled out Dean's name, and he was tossed backwards as well.

"No, Gadreel!"

Kevin began chanting something that Dean recognized as a binding spell. Sam's body moved with a fluid, frightening grace as he pinned Kevin, placing a hand on his forehead. Dean yelled, watching helplessly as Kevin was destroyed.

For one second, Gadreel's control slipped, and Dean saw the horror dawn on Sam's face, but he was swallowed again. Gadreel looked at Dean.

"Goodbye," he said.

Dean was alone, with a dead body and nothing left. Desperate times . . . Dean turned back to the Impala. He had a demon in his dungeon who needed to pull his weight.


Sam's entire life was a series of déja vu. Every time they lost a battle, couldn't save someone, Sam's gut twisted in a certain way, the moment stored forever in his memory. Every time he was called evil, stared at in disgust, his heart broke a little more. Every time Dean looked at him in disappointment . . .

The knife sent another pulse of pain up Sam's spine. He thought he could almost hear an echo of Dean calling his name as he dropped to his knees. Jake was behind him. Everything would disappear, now. Instead, there was a shriek from Sam's lips that wasn't his own.

Crowley snickered. "Sayonara, Mr. Angel." He pulled the angel-killing knife free from Sam's back. Sam heard himself cry out in an other-worldly tongue again. He toppled over. A burst of Gadreel's power sparked through him once more before fading.

"I better get lost before Dean kicks up a fuss about losing his darling brother once more," he heard Crowley say.

Sam tried to make any kind of sound, but he felt numb.

Crowley disappeared. Sam was able to twitch his hand. A sticky fluid met his searching fingertips. He was bleeding out, slowly.

"—elp," he gasped. "Help. Dean . . ."

The silent room made him no answer. His vision blurred. Sam should have expected nothing less. He deserved to die alone.

The last thing he thought before he fell into the blackness, was that he hoped he stayed dead this time.


A/N: never fear, I will continue the glass 'verse for a little, but the SW big bang had to be finished first! I'll try and consistently post since it's done, but things are CRAZY right now in real life. Welcome to the world of night shifts. Also, prepare for major inaccuracies since my knowledge of season 9 is spotty at best. Check out the artwork for this done by kuwlshadow on tumblr! :)