AN: Kinda plot-less Sam whumpage, but Halloween is a good day for such creepiness. Besides, he's hurting, who needs plot? Title comes from a Sweeney Todd song, Johanna.

"Don't you see, Sam?" The demon sneered, spit dribbling past its meatsuit's lips. "Everything's exactly the way it's supposed to be."

Sam was shaking, practically radiating anger. His hand trembled as it steadily held the knife pinning the demon's hand to the table.

"You wanna kill me?!" It was smiling. "Go ahead. I've made peace with my lord."

That smirk, that one look infuriated Sam all the more. He wanted nothing more than to rip that smile off with his bare hands, and make this demon beg for mercy for ever taunting him. He yanked the knife out, and set to slash it across the demon's throat.

Before he got the chance, the demon threw its head back, and its essence spewed from the man's mouth. The dark could loomed over Sam, and though it had no mouth, Sam knew it was grinning.

The black smoke reared back, like a cougar preparing to pounce out of the bushes, and then it lunged at Sam.

Somehow, the demon smoke wasn't soft or at all could-like, as Sam had expected. Its pure essence rammed into him with all the force of a real hit, maybe even harder, and Sam was knocked off his feet.

Attempting to get back up, Sam brought himself on his hands and knees, and then the cloud rammed into him again. It hit him in the stomach this time, doubling him over on the ground, all the air rushing out of his lungs.

Not letting it get the jump on him again, Sam leapt to his feet into a fighting stance. The smoke charged him again, and Sam swung his fist. It made contact, he was sure of that, but his hand simply went right through. He was literally trying to fight smoke.

Clearly entertained by Sam's futile attempt to defend himself, the could pulled back. The demon smoke jerked forward several times, feigning strikes and watching Sam flinch. Finally, it rushed him in a heated dash, delivering numerous blows across Sam's body. His face, his chest, his back, anywhere it knew it would hurt.

Although it took many hits for him to realize, Sam stopped trying to fight back. His counterattacks weren't making any difference for the demon, so instead he focused all his energy on dodging the demons strikes as often as possible.

He couldn't possibly have been quick enough to defend himself though. He ducked out of the way, and then the smoke rammed into his back, and then went through his legs, sending him crashing to the ground.

Once he was down, the demon started in earnest. It plowed into his chest until he rolled over, and then it would slam into his back until he rolled over again, and the painful cycle went on and on.

Sam was winded. He'd had the air knocked out of him more times than he could keep track of. His breaths would come out in endless grunts as his body was constantly battered and tossed around. He kicked the black cloud, only to have it wrap around his ankle, and hurl him into the table he had pinned the demon's hand to earlier.

Crashing into the table, Sam felt something somewhat soft break his fall. He turned his head to see the demon's discarded body beneath him. How he wished the demon would go back into that empty shell. At least Sam would have a chance then.

His eyes then caught sight of something else that had been discarded. Ruby's knife. Frantically, he reached out for it, but then he felt something creep along his neck, and then jerk him back before he could reach.

Like a dog on a leash, the smoke yanked Sam backwards, cutting off his air and making him sputter and gasp desperately.

Mouth wide and straining, the darkness's grip tightened around his throat. The tail of the smoke upwards right in Sam's face, as he grappled at the intangible force obstructing his breathing. Sam swore he heard it laughing at him.

The smoke waited a moment linger, watching Sam's eyes widen with the suspense and fear, and then it jammed itself down his throat.

Sure, Sam had the tattoo, so he couldn't be fully possessed. But that didn't mean the demon couldn't play with him.

Sam gagged and choked at the sensation of the demon forcing itself down his throat. It was a different kind of choking than what the smoke wrapped around his throat left him with. Pure evil was invading him, corrupting his soul. His entire body trembled, and he futilely shook his head and coughed wildly to try and force the smoke out.

That damned black cloud pushed itself as far down Sam's throat as it could before it felt the effects of the anti-possession tattoo take its toll. Sam's incessant coughing and gagging did nothing to hinder the demon's invasion, but the tattoo eventually repelled it.

Instead of leaving Sam alone after that, the demon simply repeated the cycle over and over until Sam nearly passed out from the unrelenting assault, and the lack of oxygen.

When Sam's eyes started rolling to the back of his head, the smoke finally left his mouth for good, but then snaked around his mouth, effectively gagging him.

Every breath Sam took was another bout of smoke going into his lungs. With his mouth trapped shut, there was nothing he could do, he couldn't even try to cough it out. He desperately shook his head, his hands still grappling uselessly at the cloud slung around his neck. God, he just wanted to breathe!

By the time he tried to start thinking his way out, the smoke started pulling him again. This time, it pulled upwards, until Sam's feet were scrabbling in the air, his entire body begging to be released.

As he kicked harder, the grip suspending him just tightened in response until Sam's face started going red.

Still not giving Sam a break, the demon rammed into Sam's suspended body several numerous times until Sam was screaming in helplessness against the smoke muffling him.

It was loving what it was hearing. Whether it was the cracking of Sam's ribs from the constant abuse, or Sam screaming past the smoke made gag, the sounds gave the demon a pleasure most humans found only through sex. It plowed into various parts of Sam's body, especially his back. It rammed into his kidneys until it felt a trickle of blood slip past Sam's mouth.

Deciding Sam had had enough, the demon finally uncurled from his body, which then fell unceremoniously to the ground in a heap with nothing keeping him up any longer.

The smoke rushed back into its host's body, flexing the hand Sam had stabbed through. It watched Sam try to push himself off the ground, but continuously collapse back down, completely spent.

Taking its time, the demon casually sauntered over to Sam, who barely registered its presence, other than a small flinch. Winchesters act so defiant, and maybe they are, but only when they're together, Apart, they're weak, vulnerable, and all the bad guys knew it.

Nudging Sam to his back with its foot, the demon brushed its suit off. Sam coughed again, blood spattering on the ground beside him. "Should've left things alone, Sammy." It shrugged." "But I guess that's not in you. I can respect that. Well," the demon nonchalantly pushed the heel of its shoe on Sam's chest until he started wheezing. "I'm using 'respect' very loosely. Nonetheless, you took it like a champ. Two golden devil's traps for you today."

With a final stomp on Sam's ribs, the demon left Sam in a motionless heap, letting him think in his failures and weakness. It felt so good to be bad sometimes.

Well, that got dark quickly. I was thinking about the season six finale where that hoard of demons flipped the Impala over, and then I imagined trying to fight that with your bare hands. So yeah, told you it was plot-less. I hate writing dialogue, so sorry there was almost none whatsoever. Not my strong point. Anywho, Happy Halloween, drop a review if y'all have got the time, and carry on my wayward sons!