A/N: First chapter fic ever. Be kind! Also, be warned there is a character death. This was originally meant to be a much darker more intense story but I found that I just couldn't write that story. This is what it is. I'm writing it as it comes to me. I have a vague outline but much of it is seat of the pants. Thanks for stopping by and happy reading!

Also I own nothing save this computer I am writing at but if I did….

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

Looking at my own reflection

When suddenly it changes

Violently it changes

Oh no there is no turning back now

You've woken up the demon

In me

"Down with the Sickness"—Disturbed.

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x X

Part One:

Daddy's Little Girl

"Daddy?"

The shaft of light that spilled in from the hallway pierced his skull and entered his sleep fogged brain at warp speed. He opened one bleary eye.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"I have to go potty."

"Okay." He reached out a hand. The other side of the bed was undisturbed. He sighed. Lee wouldn't be back for another two days. He sat up, ran a hand through his overlong hair and regarded first his four year old daughter then the pair of crutches that had become his nemeses. "I'm coming."

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why is Uncle Dean in Ari's Bedroom?"

"Uncle Dean is with Mommy in Washington. That's very far away, over 2300 miles, you must have been dreaming."

"Nuh-uh. He tweaked my nose," she giggled.

Sam hobbled across the moonlit room opting to go crutch-less. She could use the master bath.

"Come on Sally-Mae."

"My names not Sally-Mae it's Lyssa," she giggled again.

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why are Uncle Dean's eyes so weird? Does he have comtacs?"

The temperature in the room dropped below arctic. He spun slowly to face her. "How are they weird?"

"You know, all glowy and yellow." She looked up at him and her smile fell away.

The baby started to cry. It echoed, coming from down the hall as well as the monitor on the nightstand. Sam leaned down and gently cupped Lyssa's face in his hands.

"Sweetheart I want you to go hide under the bed and don't come out until I tell you o.k.? Don't come out unless you hear me say dandelion just like we practiced o.k.?" He tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

She shook her head yes. Tears shimmered in her baby blue eyes. He brushed them away, kissed her forehead.

When she was out of sight Sam reached under the mattress and pulled out the demon-killing knife he'd gotten from Ruby years ago. It was a heavy familiar weight. Well balanced and keen edged. He slid his thumb along the length of its carved blade before exiting the room.

He limped as quietly as he could past long dark shadows and frustratingly placed furniture to the bedroom at the end of the hall. His back pressed against the wall he peered around the corner.

"Come on in Sammy join the party."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply. He hopped and pivoted on his cast around the jamb into the room keeping his right arm close to his body.

The blade of the knife lay against his forearm. What appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be his brother leaned over the crib, hands clasped behind his back. Six month old Arika continued to cry.

"Who are you?"

"Come on Sam you don't recognize me?"

"You're not my brother."

"Of course I'm not. With all that lovely skin art he's locked up tighter than Fort Knox." NotDean laughed and turned to look at Sam his eyes flipping yellow.

"How? We killed you."

"No, you killed Azazel," The demon said drawing each syllable out as though it were talking to a child. It put it's hands on the side of the crib.

"Who are you," Sam asked his jaw tightening. Pulse picking up pace. "What are you doing here?"

"Well I would think that should be a little bit obvious. I mean you're supposed to be the smart one. This is all about revenge. Pure and simple. See I have this plan a really good one if you ask me but I'm a little biased. It took years. I mean years to get it just right. Did you know we can ride shape-shifters? The things you learn when you've got nothing but time on your hands. I gotta say it's very surreal." It rolled its' eyes and huffed impatiently. "Come on Sammy you and your thick-witted brother sent me back to the pit. Twice. You really know how to hurt a girls' feelings."

"Meg?"

Dean/Meg leaned down and stroked the baby's cheek.

"Leave her alone." Sam stepped further into the room.

"So Little Sammy Winchester is now Big Daddy Winchester how…well, I'd say quaint but really it's just disturbing. She's cute though, I mean, if you like that sort of thing."

Sam glanced quickly around the room his nerves fraying more with each passing second. Think dammit!

"How'd you get past my wards." Keep it talking, gloating, buy some time.

"After you killed my father I got a promotion it came with a shiny badge and a book full of neat little tricks." The demon smirked, lifted the baby gently out of the crib.

Sam tensed, his body becoming a fist.

"Tell your Daddy to drop that big nasty knife before someone gets hurt."

Sam's hand contracted involuntarily on the handle of the knife. He shifted slightly, muscles twitching.

"I could snap her neck you know. Like a matchstick." The demon said never taking its eyes off the crying baby.

"Okay! Okay." Relenting Sam let the knife clatter to the floor directly in front of him. Shit. Shit! What now? "What do you want? Just…..what?"

"For you to beg. I want you to beg for me to have mercy on a retired hunter and his special little family. I want for you to cry and hurt and bleed and then Sam then I want you to die. On your knees. Choking on blood and tears. Call the other one."

Sam closed his eyes. Lyssa. He'd nearly forgotten.

"What?"

"Call her."

Sam hesitated for the space of time it took to take one deep breath, it seemed like an age, then he turned to his left and limped away from the door, away from the knife, over to the baby monitor on the dresser against the wall. Then he did what the demon told him to do. Because even though he'd rather swallow razor blades what choice did he really have?

"Lyssa? Sweetheart?" he said into the monitor. "It's okay dandelion come down to Ari's room." Dear god, forgive me.

Light, quick footsteps sounded down the hall. Sam turned to face the door his heart pounding in his ears. Swallowed past the golf ball lodged in his chest.

She stopped in the doorway, his little girl, small and terrified. She had on her favorite nightgown, an old fashioned white linen and lace job that Leeanna had made herself. The light from the hall gilded her outline and turned her hair into a bright red-gold halo. Thumb snug in her mouth she swayed, trembled.

Sam, instinct rearing fast and hard, tried to take a step toward her. He was flung against the wall, pinned like a butterfly. The back of his head smacked the drywall with a heavy thud that made his vision swim.

"I hate you Sammy. I hate your brother. I hate your bastard of a father the most but he's not here so I only get to play with you two chuckleheads and the playground really just isn't big enough sweetie. Not for all of us at once. So you are going to die in a mysterious nursery fire just like your mother and sweet Jessie girl. Your children are going to watch. Then….." It sauntered over to Sam and leaned in real close so that he'd be the only one to hear. The whispers were steel edged feathers falling soft and vicious into his ear. His body shook with the strain of trying to move. Then it was over. He managed to catch the first heave before his belly rebelled.

It crouched down and gestured to Lyssa. "Come here honey."

She looked nervously from her father to her uncle and back again. Tears traced their way down her cheeks.

"Uncle Dean wouldn't hurt daddy." She whispered to him.

Sweaty and sick, plastered to the wall, barely able to move he managed to shake his head side to side just once. No.

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her gown and sniffled.

"Lyssa baby remember that trick you showed me the other day?" Sam said his mind racing. Dear god, please forgive me. "Why don't you show Uncle Dean?" He looked pointedly at the floor in front of her praying that she would understand. Praying that she would forgive him too.

"I'm scared daddy." She started to cry again. The low little whimpers tore at him.

"You know a trick?" The demon said grinning maliciously up at Sam. "I know a trick too. Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"It's okay sweetheart."

"If I do you won't hurt daddy?" She sounded so small, so innocent.

"That depends on how good a trick it is." The demon chuckled.

"Mommy says it's a doozy." She said her voice hitching. She flung one chubby hand out in front of her. The hall light danced across bright pink fingernails and the blade of the silver knife, which had been lying on the floor between them, as it flew through the air.