This is part TWO in the 'To Everything' series.

It's my idea of what happens to Sam as he turns demonic and becomes what everyone has been waiting for. Sure to be full of limp/angsty/hurt/evil Sam and worried/hurt/protective/awesome Dean. Bobby's there to as reinforcements as the battle of evil and the fight against it comes to fruition.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam stood a few feet away from Damas, his eyes locked on the dark figure. "You won't take me so easily."

"I'm not the one you will be needing to fight." Damas didn't smile this time.

Sam dropped his bag and opened his hands at his sides. He felt the power run through him and down his arms. He didn't know what he was doing, or even if it would work, but he had to try.

"Samuel, don't."

He closed his eyes and focused all the anger and fear at Damas. There was a flash of light, or maybe it was pain, he wasn't sure. Damas staggered back a few steps, his face even more ashen than before. Sam opened his eyes, the ground seemed to shift under his feet and something metallic filled his mouth and nose. He swallowed and took a staggered breath.

Damas took half a step forward. "That was impressive, Samuel, even further along than I had anticipated."

Sam staggered back and fell to his knees. He tried to find the energy to try again, but breathing was harder than it should have been and his thoughts felt slow and thick. Damas gripped Sam's arm as he drew close. Sam felt the unbridled power rush through him and he nearly blacked out. He pressed his hands against the cool ground.

"We haven't much time to get away, Samuel." Damas pulled him to his feet. "You need to come with me, now."

Sam staggered as he was led through the trees.

"You did the right thing, leaving them. Though I will only have to kill them later." He glanced back. "When they fight for you."

Sam was pale and his hands shook as he struggled to keep up. The use of his power and lack of sleep had drained him of his energy. Damas's presence made his head buzz and throb in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant, but difficult all the same. Soon they came across a narrow, gravel road. A sleek car was parked on the side, it's dark windows reflected the clear morning sky.

Damas opened the passenger side door and Sam sunk into the seat. He walked around and climbed in. He ran his hands over the steering wheel for a moment as though he hadn't been in the car in some time and was remembering the way it felt beneath him. Sam watched with detached interest, too weary for much else.

He looked over at Sam and handed him a canteen. "It's water, you need to drink. We all need you alive."

Sam hesitated before he brought it to his lips. The cool water ran down his throat. He replaced the cap with shaking hands and gripped the canteen to attempt to slow the tremors.

"Why now?" He breathed.

Damas pulled onto the road with a smile. "Because you have come into your power and you need someone to show you. If you were to do this alone, you would end up destroying more than yourself and your brother."

"I don't believe you."

"And yet you are here." Damas looked over with a smirk.

"Didn't think I had much of a choice." He muttered.

He increased the speed. "You were right in that assumption."

Sam leaned forward and pressed his hand against his head as pain shot through. He closed his eyes to the morning sun and unconsciously held his breath. The pain doubled, even though he didn't think that was possible, and he cradled his head in his hands.

"It's because you're untrained." He almost sounded sympathetic, concerned even. "The pain will fade in time."

"I don't need you." Sam muttered.

"You do if you want to live. Continue without my guidance and your power will consume and destroy you. This plan has been centuries in preparation, it is flawless."

Sam scoffed and regretted the unnecessary use of energy and focus. Damas placed his hand on the back of Sam's neck and he instantly went limp. He guided the now unconscious Sam back against the seat. He pressed his hand against the side of Sam's head and felt the level of pain. There wasn't anything he could do, other than bestow unconsciousness, so that would have to do. He pressed the accelerator down and turned onto the highway.

---

Dean figured he had looked through just about every book Bobby owned, and that was saying something, but it still didn't reveal any information that was useful.

He stood and ran a hand over his eyes. "I'm going to see if he needs anything."

Bobby glanced up from a book as Dean passed. He walked down the hall and paused by the half open door.

"Sam?" He kept his voice low as he pushed open the door.

Everything froze for one horrible second. Dean saw the empty bed, blankets still pushed back that hadn't been slept in. He saw the space under the bed where Sam's bag should have been and he saw the open window. Then he saw the note on his bed. With a trembling hand, he picked it up and read Sam's familiar handwriting.

Dean. This is the only way. I know you'll argue otherwise, but it's the only way to keep you from dying. I'll come back, if I can, and I'll fight. Please, this isn't your fault, so don't ever think it was. I'm sorry, but I'd rather know you were alive somewhere than watch you die because of me. –Sammy

Something tightened around Dean's chest and throat, his eyes burned. He turned to the window even though he knew it must have been hours that Sam was gone.

"Bobby." His voice cracked at the end and he swallowed. "Bobby." This time was stronger and more desperate.

Bobby came into the room, ready for almost anything, anything except the note Dean held and the empty room behind him.

"He left." Dean stated, his voice oddly even.

He sighed. "Shit. Well, let's go after him."

"I don't know which way he went." He looked lost and Bobby realized that's exactly what he was.

"Never stopped him or you before. Get your stuff together and meet me by the truck in ten." He left the room.

It was what Dean needed, a plan to pull something back together. He carefully folded the note and tucked it in his wallet before he shoved things into a bag. He tore from the house and jumped into the truck. Only the speed that Bobby left the driveway and the slight tremble in his fingers revealed his worry.

---

Consciousness came slowly and Sam woke on a rough camping blanket spread over the cool cement floor of an abandoned factory. He was tucked back in a corner and the only light came from a lantern that sat nearby. Pain consumed every inch of him and he was cold. He tried to push himself to sitting.

"I wouldn't try that just yet." Damas stepped from the shadows and knelt next to Sam.

Sam slumped back onto the blanket. Damas placed a mug of something near Sam and sat back on his heels. Sam took a slow breath and pushed himself to sitting anyway. The darkness spun around him and he slumped back against the wall behind him.

"Drink that. It will help you gain your strength back."

"I'd rather die." He managed a weak smile of defiance.

Damas sighed. "Get your strength back and maybe you'll be able to defeat me. That is what you want, isn't it? I can read it in your thoughts."

Sam weighed the options he was given and slowly reached for the mug. It was warm between his icy hands and he tried to imagine the warmth moving to his core to combat the chills that wracked his weary body. He took a slow drink and tasted something earthy and minty.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"Tea, herbs that most don't know about."

It warmed him some, if it did nothing else. "You're being nice, I wouldn't expect that." His voice was rough.

Damas stood. "We need you alive and it is within my own interest to make sure you are. There is more than your life tied up in this plan." He turned away. "Rest."

Sam suddenly felt weary, hardly able to stay awake. "Where am I?"

"Someplace where you will not be found, someplace where I will teach you. Sleep now, Samuel, you have attempted more than you should and it has left you weak."

Sam slid to the floor and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. Pain shot through him like lightning and pulsed in his head. He closed his eyes to the sickening throb and the spinning of the room. He heard Damas's retreating footsteps and let his eyes slip closed. He tried to listen for Dean's thoughts, but it only sharpened the pain in his head and increased his nausea. He swallowed back the rising bile and pulled the blanket tighter. His last thoughts were of fighting to get back to Dean, he would play the game until he could do that.