Loose tag to 9x03 where Abaddon threatens to possess Dean. Definitely AU though. Be warned, I don't think I've written a happy story yet. This is no exception. Seriously, if you don't like angst, STEER CLEAR.

Dean POV

All it took was one quick swipe of her nails across my collarbone and the devil's trap tattoo was shredded; useless. The pain barely registered. She wasted no time taking control, her writhing mass of black smoke leaving the taste of death in my mouth. Abaddon cut off my scream before it escaped my lips completely, lodging herself comfortably into every crevice of my mind, making us one in the same. My silent screams went unheard, my own mouth laughing cruelly instead.

I lost count of the days, the number of people she killed with my hands, but their screams stayed trapped in my head and she played them on repeat, just to feel me writhe in agony inside my own body. I scratched furiously at the bars of the cage she had built in my head, fought with everything I had, but the nightmare didn't end and control never returned to me.

And then she went after Sammy.

It had to have been months by now, but it felt like years. I'd switched tactics, slowly making a small dent in the wall between my mind and body, scratching at it just a little bit every day. Anything beyond that was exhausting. But finally, it paid off. It took everything I had not to shout my victory when I finally started to feel my vocal cords again. It was even harder to hold back once I had regained the feeling in my toes and fingers. I itched for some holy water, a gun, anything to slow her down. But there was no guarantee as to how long I could repossess my body, and I didn't want her to know I had gained even that small amount of ground. I would have to wait for the right moment. The moment I knew I could actually kill her.

And I found that as much as I wanted to stop her, what little hold I had was lost when she was killing. Her movements were so sure, her pleasure so tangible, it was sickening. And impossible to prevent. And after a while, I couldn't watch anymore.

So instead, I learned to tune her out most of the time; to burrow deep within my own thoughts so I wouldn't have to feel it every time she used my hands to tear apart her screaming prey. It was selfish maybe, but it was the only way to keep myself from going completely insane...if it wasn't too late already.

I would sift through old memories of long road trips with Dad and playing catch with Bobby and Sam Sam Sam, humming Metallica even as Abaddon tried to replace my slideshow with gory, detailed replays of her latest kill. After a while, I got better and better at blocking her out. After a while, I started to forget how to climb back out of my own memories. And after a while, I really didn't want to.

But when she used my lips to form my little brother's name, poisoning it with a mocking laugh, I finally started to pull away from the memories and forced myself to push back up to the surface, trying to realign myself with the present.

I broke through just in time to feel myself deliver a solid kick to someone's gut. Finding my eyes, I almost wished I hadn't. Sam was lying beneath me, face battered almost beyond recognition, a thick pool of red surrounding him. And he was screaming my name.

"Fight it Dean, you need to fight this!" he shouted, blood escaping his lips more often than the words themselves. I struggled to find my limbs, to regain some of the control I'd been able to find once, horrified when Abaddon struck out once more against my will, catching Sam in the cheek. I felt his jaw crack beneath my fist on the next few punches, even as I screamed my unheard defiance. I slammed hard against the walls of my own body, desperately looking for a weak spot, any kind of crack or crevice in Abaddon's impenetrable barrier.

And finally, finally I found it. One more slam against the wall and I could once again feel my fingers flexing. I finally had control. Abaddon's disbelieving shriek of rage rocketed through my body but couldn't find its way out from my mouth. I wouldn't let it. She continued to scream inside my head, pounding relentlessly against the wall I'd hastily rebuilt to keep her locked down. I knew I didn't have long.

Sam still lay at my feet, his eyes glazed over, but still conscious, pulling in sharp, pained breaths.

"I'm sorry Sammy." I risked some of my limited control on the words, needing him to hear them.

"Dean?" he whispered, his eyes widening. He smiled back at me, showing bloody teeth. "Knew you were still in there somewhere."

I returned his smile, stepping away from him and reaching for Samuel Colt's gun- the gun he'd somehow managed to get a hold of after all this time. Only Sammy. It had been knocked from his hand at some point during the fight, but I didn't waste time trying to remember exactly when. I didn't need those memories to add to the rest.

"No Dean!" Sam yelled when he saw the gun grasped in my hand. His eyes were no longer glazed over, now overflowing with tears instead as he pleaded with me.

I just smiled and shook my head.

"Already dead Sammy," I said, thinking back on all the destruction Abaddon had wreaked upon the world using my body. All the people I had let die at my hands...

It was true, I was dead long before I pulled the trigger.

BANG.

I really need to stop "killing" Dean. Sorry. Leave a review if you have time, even if it's just to yell at me because trust me, I'm mad at me too. Let me know if you want to see Sam's POV too.

Sidenote: I wrote this a while ago and at this point I'm pretty sure we know that the Colt wouldn't actually kill Abaddon, but for the purposes of this story, we'll just say that it would. I apologize for the inaccuracy.