Summery. When Dean and Cas disappear after killing Dick, Sam resorts to drinking demon blood in a desperate attempt to find his brother. But what will happen when Dean returns from Purgatory and finds out? Can the brothers overcome the demon's curse on Sam a second time? AU of Season 8.

Warning: Spoilers for Season 8.

I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own.

I don't own Supernatural

Sam Winchester wiped the blood trickling from his nose with the back of his hand and smiled with grim satisfaction at the charred wooden planks underneath the now unconscious man he had tied to a chair in the middle of the empty house they were in. His eyes narrowed for a second when they fell momentarily on the faint red paint that made up what was left of the demon trap he'd made earlier that day.

He waited, unmoving, while the pounding in his ears faded before stepping closer to the man he'd pulled the demon from. The soft, steady sounds of inhaling and exhaling assuring him his captive was still alive. The man appeared young, probably early twenties, and was dressed in a simple t-shirt, pants and sneakers. Definitely not rich but he didn't look like a bum either. His short brown hair stuck to his face, filled with dirt and sweat but Sam caught a whiff of deodorant and aftershave as he sat back on his hunches to stare the man in the face.

"Hey. Wake up." Sam roughly shook the man's shoulders. A barely audible groan was the only response. The hunter slid his hands down to the pockets of the man's pants and pulled out a cheap leather wallet on a chain from the right one and a plain flip phone from the left. Without so much as checking the driver's license to get a name or street address he dug out the two twenty dollar bills and shoved them in his own pocket before dropping the wallet carelessly on the young man's lap. The Impala needed gas and he needed food.

Flipping the black phone open he checked that it was charged and had bars. Nodding his approval he set the phone next to the wallet and used the demon blade to cut the ropes from the young man's arms and legs. He could feel the man stirring and worked faster.

As soon as he was done Sam stood up and stared down at the limp form before him. A pang of guilt washed over him, just like it had every other time, at what he was about to do. It had been months since he'd stopped helping the people he pulled demons from, but he still couldn't completely rid himself of the guilt. Couldn't shake how he felt a little more dead inside each time he walked away.

Sam wasn't sure if it was the demon blood coursing through his veins or the fact that everyone he cared about was dead, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care. At least not enough.

The demon couldn't have been possessing this guy more than a few days if the phone was still charged, and they weren't more than ten miles from town. He would be fine.

With a final glance around the room Sam turned and walked away.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam scowled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror of the Impala as he maneuvered the car along the winding dirt road back towards town. Most of the softness was gone from his hazel eyes, his hair was longer but other than that he still looked like… well Sam. But he shouldn't, he should look like…

"A Monster." Sam ground out, gripping the steering wheel so tight he feared it would somehow break as a wave of self loathing washed over him.

It had been a year since they'd killed Dick. A year since Dean and Cas and vanished. Since Sam had been left completely alone and had started drinking demon blood. Again. At first it had been nothing more than a grief ridden, desperate attempt to find his brother and their angel friend. The only way he could hunt monster solo and always win.

But no one had seen them and Sam had lost count of how many demons he'd tortured, how many leviathans he'd tortured and killed. Yes killed. He'd found out that with enough demon blood running through his veins he could even kill leviathans, though he didn't unless he needed to because the effort left him drained for days.

When the raw anger and grief had died down some Sam had tried to stop. But there wasn't enough willpower in the world to keep him from the disgustingly sweet blood he craved with every fiber of his being. He'd broken every single hand cuff he'd used in a vain attempt to restrain himself. He had no one to help him this time, like his big brother had done seemingly a lifetime ago. Memories of being locked in Bobby's panic room made him wince, that had sucked. The physical pain and heart wrecking hallucinations he'd had of himself, of Dean, taunting him had been some royal bullshit. The feeling of being eternally alone in an endless waking hell still caused despair to clutch his chest.

The second time had seemed even worse somehow, even though he'd only drank one demon. Fleeting memories of asking, begging Dean to lock him up. Cas' slight nod of approval? Understanding? It was so hard to tell with that angel sometimes. Dean's look of pity, angst, dread. He'd saved them, but that didn't even seem to matter. No, all they could see was a freak, someone that needed their pity or a knife to the heart, maybe both.

Then there was darkness, filled with pain, fear because he couldn't tell what was real, there was no sense of time, only an endless nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He remembered crying Dean's name, Cas' name, until his throat was hoarse, pleading with them to help.

They hadn't come, they didn't understand, they didn't care… Sam shook his head to chase away the unwelcome thoughts. He wished he could wipe his mind clean of those days.

Still, short turning himself over to one of those recovery programs or something, which he wasn't going to do because he knew he'd be locked up and any hope he had of finding Dean would be lost, he'd done everything he could to stop on his own. But he couldn't, he wasn't strong enough.

Now he'd stopped trying. Instead he focused on fine tuning his abilities. Moving objects had become second nature, he could even pick locks with his mind. He was way stronger now, he barely used his gun and knife nowadays. Hell, he didn't even need lighter fluid or a lighter anymore, a simple snap of his finger would ignite most anything.

But with every drink he took of that red poison he could feel his humanity slipping away. Each drop a stain on his soul that couldn't be removed.

The sun was disappearing below the hilltops as Sam parked the car in the small, gravel covered, parking lot of the no-name motel he was staying at. He pulled the keys from the ignition, unlocked the trunk and threw his pack over his shoulders. He never left his stuff in the motel rooms in case he decided to skip town while he was out.

Not even bothering with the keys Sam swung the motel's door open with the slight twitch of his fingers and dumped his bag on the single queen-sized bed. Grabbing a half empty bottle of demon blood from the little refrigerator under the stained enamel sink Sam chugged some down while flopping down on the bed to google pizza delivery in Delphi, Indiana.

Finding two listings and settling on the less crappy looking one he searched his pocket for his phone and realized with mild annoyance that he must have left it in the Impala. Turning the light switch on with a mere glance in its general direction, his hazel eyes scanned the rundown room. Nothing.

Sam sighed, wondering if any amount of demon blood would allow him to teleport objects, before heading towards the empty parking lot. Well, almost empty. Besides the Impala there was one other car, an old rusty ford truck that he could barely make out as a light tan under the light of the faint street lamp.

Locating his phone on the passenger seat, the hunter frowned at the screen that said he had one missed call and a new voicemail. Guilt once again settled in his stomach like a ton of bricks. He hoped it wasn't Kevin. The boy had called him several times over the past months asking for his help and he hadn't responded once. In the beginning because he'd been too overwhelmed with his own anger and heartbreak, too busy kicking himself for not having somehow been able to save his brother, too caught up in his frantic quest to find Dean.

Sam squeezed the phone so hard the plastic case cracked a bit. Now it was because he couldn't bring himself to care enough to reply. This realization scared him a bit. He wasn't afraid to go at it alone or hesitant to show Kevin what he had become. He simply didn't feel it was his problem anymore.

Steeling himself Sam dialed his voicemail with shaking fingers and held the phone to his ear. The rough voice on the other end made his blood run cold and his breath catch in his throat.

"Sam, I got out. Call me."

Sam jerked the phone back like it had suddenly burst into flames, staring at the screen in disbelief. He'd longed to hear that voice for a year now. A voice that for so long had always meant security, trust, family… Dean's voice. Anxiety pushed back the relief that flooded over Sam at hearing his brother's short message. Dean was okay, was alive! Dean was going to kill him.

"No…" Sam slumped against the side of the Impala, and rubbed a hand over his face. He'd always reasoned in his mind that Dean would somehow be able to forgive him for going dark side yet again on the premises that he'd only done it to save him. Just like Sam had eventually forgiven Dean for selling his soul in Cold Oak. Dean would be happy to see him, to know he'd even been willing to use the part of himself he despised with a passion to save Dean from whatever nightmare he'd been trapped in.

But Dean had saved himself, or someone else had. He didn't need his little brother. Sam had failed, again. And now there was nothing standing in Dean's way of hating him for the freak he had become. Dean wouldn't forgive him this time, had hardly forgiven him the first time. Sam wasn't sure he could handle the disgusted looks and words of rejection that would inevitability occur if Dean ever found out. Knowing the one person he cared about and looked up to the most in the world didn't trust him, thought he was a monster, nearly broke him.

If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you.

Sam gritted his teeth as the emotional pain and self loathing he'd been suppressing bubbled up again, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. His hazel eyes scanned the dim parking lot as if the answer to all his problems could somehow be found there. Of course it did no good, life didn't magically go back to being less then complete shit.

Hot tears of relieve mixed with remorse and self hatred threatened to spill over as Sam slid to the ground, head in his hands. The cold metal of the Impala supporting his back seemed to be the only thing holding him in reality. This wasn't how it was suppose to end. Either way he would be hurting Dean, whether by having him think his little brother disappeared off the face of the earth or by him finding out Sam had once again resorted to blood drinking in his absence.

In utter despair Sam lifted his head to the night sky and prayed. Something he hadn't done since the first night Dean had disappeared. "Castiel… Cas, if you're out there... I… I need your help. I really messed up this time." He closed his eyes. "Please."

Silence. No flutter of wings. No calm flat voice asking why he'd called. Sam peered around. No dorky angel in a trench coat. Maybe it was for the best, he wasn't sure that Cas wouldn't smite him on the spot, wasn't sure he didn't want Cas to do just that.

Sam sighed as the last of his hope faded, to be replaced with bitter resignation. Yes, he truly was still completely and utterly alone.

So tell me what you think? All comments welcome, I used to write all the time but this is my first go at a fanfic in 8 years lol.