Kari10: You check twice a day? Wow, that's awesome and flattering! I'm glad you like Alyson/Dean because to be honest...I didn't know if people would like them together when I wrote it like that. I mean, ya know, since she's a 'good' girl. But yeah, you're right, Dean 'does' need someone like her. Thanks for reviewing.

Supernatural-Stalker: AHHH!!! You've gotta watch the first three seasons. LOL. On the other hand though...you don't know what's gonna happen before you read it. Right?

Warning: Um...there's a form of non-con in this chapter, so if that offends you then just skip over that part.

Born Under a Bad Sign
Part Two

Playing 'retrace Sam's steps' wasn't that hard seeing as to how it led us to a storage unit right outside the motel. He'd said it felt familiar so we'd checked it out.

And we hadn't even had to pick the lock because Sam had a key. In the storage place was a blue Volkswagen Beetle. It was kinda dirty, like he'd been driving in the mud.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this," Dean said.

Sam didn't say anything, but I could tell he was thinking exactly that.

We checked the car out and found even more out-of-it things. Things that didn't match with Sam's personality. Things like cigarettes and a bloody knife in the backseat.

Sam picked the knife up and stared at it. "You think I used this on someone?"

"I'm not thinkin' anything," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Well, I am," I said. "Just for the record."

Sam looked over at me. "You think I hurt someone, don't you?"

"I didn't say that. But either you used the knife or someone wanted you to think you did. But the blood doesn't have to be human, right? Other things have blood that's red."

Sam did not look reassured. In fact, he looked even more worried. He sighed and then used his jacket to wipe the prints off of the knife.

He tossed the knife back into the backseat and then cocked his head to the side before picking something up off the floor.

"What's that?"

"Gas receipt. Few towns over."

------------- -

The Tasty Express was the name of the gas station, and it was where we were headed now.

Sam had asked me a couple times already whether I was okay and I'd told him 'yeah' each time. It was true, for the most part. I mean, I had the chills, but it wasn't too bad. I didn't know if it was because I'd finally gotten used to it or because of something else, but I wasn't getting weak from them.

The only thing that bothered me was that the feelings were coming from Sam, and last time I'd checked, Sam was human and not evil. And he wasn't acting any different, he just felt weird.

"You gettin' any goosebumps yet?" Dean asked. "Any God-this-looks-familiar déjà vu vibes?"

Sam shook his head. "No, nothin'."

This did not bode well for Sam. This whole not-remembering-anything thing was weird and it made me feel uneasy. Sam could've done anything while he was…doing whatever he was doing that he couldn't remember.

About two minutes later we pulled into the gas station where the receipt had come from and we went inside. It was just a regular gas station, nothing special about it.

There was a cashier behind the counter. He wasn't wearing a uniform or anything, but he worked here nonetheless.

When the door opened it dinged and he looked up. He glanced at Sam and his eyes widened. "You, outta here, now! I'm callin' the cops."

"You talkin' to him?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinkin' drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chuggin'."

I looked at Sam, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. He obviously didn't remember this, either.

"You're drinkin' malt liquor?" Dean asked Sam.

The cashier-guy scoffed. "Not after he whipped the bottle at my friggin' head."

"This guy?"

"W-what, am I speaking Urdu?"

"Look," Sam began, "I'm really sorry if I did anything -"

"You know what? Tell your story walkin', pal. Okay? Popo'll be here in five."

"Okay, wait, he's leaving," Dean said. "Put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car."

"Dean -"

"Go wait in the car!"

Sam glanced at the cashier, who was still glaring at him, and then turned to leave.

As for me? I was internally freaking out. Okay, because: 1) Sam does not smoke, and he hardly ever got, ya know, drunk-faced… 2) Sam was gentle-natured; he didn't throw bottles at people and didn't hurt them unless he had to.

Anyway, the dude behind the counter put the phone back down, and Dean began talking.

"Okay, look, I just wanna talk to you, that's it, okay?" The guy was still glaring. "Now, when he took off yesterday, which way did he go?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Cause I'm askin' you," Dean replied simply. "Now, please, you'd be doing me a huge favor, okay?"

"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for." the guy said.

And, ya know, this was getting us nowhere, so without even thinking I reached out and punched him. Not too hard, but hard enough to make his nose bleed.

The guy grabbed his nose with both hands. "Ow! What, are you crazy?"

"No," I said firmly. "As a matter of fact, I'm very sane. But that guy that's with us, he has a memory problem, and we need your help to figure out where he went. So, are you gonna help us or do you want me to hit you again?" Because I would've loved to hit him again. He annoyed me…a lot.

"Ya know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze or the smokes, which he illegally lit up."

"We don't care what he did, we just wanna know where he went."

The guy glared, still holding his nose. "He went north on Route 71, straight out of town."

"Thank you," I said maybe a little less than politely. I turned to leave and Dean fell in behind me. We passed by an old man who sorta looked like he thought I was gonna hit him too. It made me feel bad for maybe a second, but then I focused on the fact that we got the information we needed, and the guilt went away.

"Well, that's one way to get things done," he said, and if he hadn't been so worried he probably would've been grinning.

"Yeah, I guess. He was annoying, wasn't he?"

"Just a little bit."

------------- -

It was getting pretty late now, and I was kinda hungry, Dean - well - he was always hungry, and Sam couldn't remember the last time he ate. So we stopped at some place to eat. It wasn't a diner-diner. It was more a buffet thing. That was more my idea because - Dean scoffed at this - we didn't eat enough vegetables, and it wasn't good for us.

But my worries were ever so politely ignored, and Dean ate more meat than anything else - and dessert. You can't forget dessert. Dean had quite the sweet tooth.

It was actually in the middle of Dean's dessert that I just rolled my eyes and decided to just go with it. Dean had been in charge of his own eating habits for a while now, and he was still healthy, so, ya know, I let him eat whatever he wanted.

Anyway, Sam stood up and grabbed his empty drink glass, and started to walk away, but I stopped him. "Hey, can you get me some more tea?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, grabbing my glass, too.

This was the type of place that gave you your drink when you came in, and then you could refill whenever you wanted at the machine.

I sighed a little and pushed my plate away. I wasn't all that hungry anymore. I'd had my meal and a salad, so I was good to go. I wasn't a bottomless pit like Dean.

"Do you think he's okay?" Dean asked after Sam was out of earshot.

"I dunno," I said honestly. "But he still feels weird."

I looked over at Dean and instantly knew I couldn't say what I really wanted to. That we may just have to get used to the idea that Sam was different - even though he was acting normal - and that things wouldn't be the same anymore.

------------- -

An hour later, we were parked in front of some house - a very nice house, actually, with a wrap around porch - in the middle of the woods. Sam had told us to go down an unmarked road and it had led to the house we were now parked in front of.

We got out of the car and went to the front door. The porch light came on automatically.

"Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises," Sam said.

The windows beside the door were shattered, but the glass was on the ground outside. That meant the window had been shattered outwards; someone had done it from inside, which was weird since whoever had done it could've used the door.

When we got inside we found that the house was a mess. Pictures on the walls were crooked, chairs were missing legs, china dishes were crashed on the floor, cabinets had doors that were barely hanging onto their hinges. Like I said…a mess.

"Remind you of anything?" I said to Dean. He looked at me and nodded once.

"What?" Sam asked.

"The motel in Missouri," I specified. I'd told him about that earlier.

The first room we came to was an office of some kind. There were deer heads hanging on the walls, but more importantly, there was a dead body on the floor.

"Oh, God." The stench of blood reached my nose and I covered it with my shirt.

Sam flipped the light on, and Dean bent to roll the guy over. The entire right side of his face has covered in blood. The guy's throat had been slashed.

There seemed to be blood everywhere, and it must have been here for a while because it had already turned black.

"Dean, I did this," Sam said.

"We don't know that," Dean denied.

Sam began listing off reasons why he was sure he'd done this, and I began looking around the room.

"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood?"

"I don't know," Dean raised his voice. "Why don't you tell me?"

I went over to the desk and began to rummage through the drawers. There were a few letters from his daughter, who was in college, I assumed, because she was thinking him for care packages. And his name was Steve Wandel.

"Look, even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a reason," Dean said desperately. "Ya know, self-defense, he was a bad son of a bitch, somethin'."

I sat down at the desk in front of the computer and rubbed my hands over my face. I felt tired and weak; being around Sam was beginning to wear on me. I tried to shake it off and I began going through the dead guy's - Steve's - files. The ones that weren't locked anyway.

"I need your lock-pick," I heard Sam say, and I looked up. Sam was standing in front of two doors.

I saw something red blinking out of the corner of my eye, and looked toward it. It was a security camera.

"Um, guys? We've got another problem."

I gestured toward the camera and Dean said, "crap."

Sam finally got the doors open and we found a boatload of guns, along with maps and other research. It looked like the guy had been searching out supernatural hotspots.

"Dean, I think I killed a hunter."

I yawned and Dean glanced at me, and I yawned again.

Anyway, the security camera was connected to the computer somehow, and we were able to get feedback on the monitor. The security footage showed Sam coming into the office, attacking the man, making him fall to the floor. Sam then dragged Steve near the gun closet and took out a knife, slitting the man's throat. The man's body went lax on the floor.

We paused the stupid footage and we were pretty much shocked in a very bad way.

"I killed him," Sam said, lost. "I just broke in and killed him."

"Sam, we don't know everything," I said. "He could've been evil or something. The only thing we know for sure is what we saw."

"That I killed him? He was human, what else matters?"

"How do you erase this?" Dean asked, pointing to the computer.

"Dean -"

"Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are gonna come lookin' for his killer, which means we've gotta cover our tracks, okay?"

"His name's Steve Wandel," I put in. "And you can take the thing outta the back and all the files will be gone."

"Yeah, ya know, I don't really have time for that."

Dean grabbed the hard drive and threw it one the ground, stomping it to pieces.

------------- -

"A'right, we get a couple hours of sleep, then we put this place in our rearview mirror."

We were in the car, headed back to the motel we'd found Sam in earlier. Sam hadn't said anything since Dean had destroyed the hard drive in Steve's office. It's like he was in shock - which, yeah, he probably was because he'd just seen himself kill someone. And it had looked like he'd had fun while he was killing the guy. Which was the scariest part of all this.

"Look, I know this is bad, okay?" Dean said, looking at Sam briefly. "But you've gotta snap out of it." Sam remained silent. "Sam, say something!"

"What do you want him to say?" I snapped. "He killed someone, Dean. We all saw it, so there's nothing else to say."

And I knew I was being bitchy but I didn't care at this point. I was tired, dizzy, and weak, and I'd just seen Sam kill someone - a someone that had been a hunter. So I was justified to feel that way, in my opinion.

"What happened to 'we don't know everything'?" Dean asked desperately. "You said that."

"Yeah, and we don't know everything, but it doesn't change the fact that someone is dead because of -"

"Because of me," Sam finished my sentence. "Because I murdered him."

That was the first thing he'd said since we'd left the office, and he sounded broken. I mean, I got it. I'd killed someone before. Of course, this was totally different because I hadn't meant to kill the guy I'd killed, and Sam - well - Sam had, if the security footage was to be trusted.

"I murdered someone," Sam said. "That's what I did."

"Maybe," Dean said, barely hanging by a thread. "It could've been a shapeshifter."

"Oh, come on, you know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion."

"But it wasn't you. All right? I mean, yeah, it might've been…you, but it wasn't you."

"Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked.

Sam took a deep breath before he started speaking. It was like he maybe didn't wanna say this at all. "For the last few weeks, I've been havin'…I've been havin' these feelings."

"Feelings?" Dean and I said in unison.

"Rage," Sam said softly. "Hate. And I can't stop it. Day by day, it gets worse."

"You never told me this," Dean said, concerned.

"I didn't wanna scare you."

"Sam," I said, leaning up onto the front seat, "the last time you were with us, you didn't send out any vibes, but now you are. Something must've changed. So are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"No," he said. "I can't remember anything."

I sighed and sat back in the seat. I grabbed at my head; it felt like it was spinning. It was different than my usual supernatural-induced spells. This felt sorta…drug-induced, which was impossible because I hadn't taken anything.

"Guys, I-I don't feel so good. My head feels like it's doin' 360's."

"It's because you're near me, isn't it?" Sam asked, sounding apologetic.

"I don't know, it feels different."

"Well, we're almost at the motel. Do you think you'll be okay 'til then?"

"Maybe."

"Well, let me know if you're gonna hurl so I can pull over," Dean said.

I laughed a little. "Your concern is inspiring. Thank you."

------------- -

I did make it to the motel, but Dean had to carry me to the room. My legs didn't seem to want to work - I had tried getting out of the car, and had almost fallen flat on my butt, but Dean had caught me.

In the room, Dean placed me on the bed, and he was gonna sit beside me, but Sam started talking.

"Dean, the Yellow-Eyed Demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you," Dean said.

"What he said," I put in weakly.

"It sure doesn't seem like that. It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I'm just becoming who I'm meant to be." Sam and Dean were standing in front of each other. "I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I've gotta face up to who I am."

"I didn't mean this!" Dean yelled.

"But it's still true! You know that. Dad knew that too! That's why he told you if it ever came to this -"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean interrupted.

Throughout this whole conversation, I got even more dizzy and blurry-eyed. I was seeing two of each of them. This couldn't be good.

"Dean, you promised him. You promised me."

Dean scoffed like he couldn't believe Sam was bringing that up now. "No," he said simply and sadly. "Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out, okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?"

"Yeah, there is." And I didn't know exactly how Sam got the gun because I wasn't really paying attention, but he did get a gun, and he handed it to Dean. "I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't," Dean said. "Whatever this is…you can fight it."

"No, I can't. Not forever."

I was hearing this as if from a distance, and things were now fading quickly. The lights seemed to be dimming, and the images - all four of them - of Sam and Dean were growing hazy.

"Here, you gotta do it," Sam said, and that was the last thing I was aware of. It was lights out for me.

------------- -

When I came to I realized a few things. One being that I was tied up - or my hands were, anyway - and I couldn't move; my limbs felt heavy. Two, I was either on the floor or something equally as hard. Three, it was almost completely dark; I could barely see six inches in front of me.

My mouth wasn't bound, which struck me as weird. Maybe we were in the middle of nowhere and nobody would hear me if I screamed. Or maybe, hopefully, it was only because I'd been unconscious.

Something was here with me - it made me feel like Sam had earlier, so maybe it was him. But Sam wasn't my biggest concern right now. Dean was. What if Sam had had another episode, and had hurt Dean?

"Dean?" I whispered, and then cursed myself because I'd been asleep or unconscious - whatever - and now whatever was with me would know I was awake.

Anyway, Dean didn't answer; Sam did. "Dean's not here." He sounded snarky, biting. "But don't worry, he's not dead. Not yet, anyway."

I swallowed nervously. That didn't sound good. At all. And I didn't like the fact that I could hear Sam but not see him.

I tried moving, tried just to see if I could, but it was no use. My hands were tied behind my back and they wouldn't budge when I tried struggling against the rope that was binding my hands together.

I was laying on my side, and my shoulder was positioned at an odd angle, making it uncomfortable to lay on. But I only had two ways to go, and that was on my back or on my stomach.

If I laid on my stomach, it would make me even more vulnerable, and I wasn't loving that idea. But if I laid on my back, it would put pressure on my wrists, which would be even more uncomfortable than the pressure on my shoulder.

"What'd you do to Dean?"

"He's not dead. Isn't that all that matters?"

Suddenly a flashlight turned on and I realized Sam was right in front of me - well, above me -, sitting on a coffin-shaped thing. I was on the ground and I had to look up to see him. I couldn't see much of the rest of my surroundings, however.

"Where am I?" I asked, practically whispering. I was beginning to panic.

"Here with me." He smiled, almost smirked.

"Where's here?"

"Oh, just an old mausoleum in the middle of nowhere."

He sounded smug, like he figured I was stuck here, and if I was being completely honest with myself, I thought that too. There was no way I was getting out of here by myself.

I mean, for one, my hands were tied behind my back, but even if they hadn't been, Sam could easily overpower me physically. Two, I was slightly disoriented from whatever he'd drugged me with - I was sure he'd drugged me somehow, probably when he'd gotten my drink over dinner. I was kind of weak and shaky, too, but I didn't know if that was from the drug or from being around Sam for so long. Or maybe it was the fear, because fear was definitely becoming an issue.

I felt tears sting my eyes; I was helpless and I hated it.

"Oh, don't cry," I heard Sam say mockingly. "We can have fun together. You don't have to be afraid."

I glared as best as I could through misted eyes, and I clenched my jaw to keep from letting a sob out. I didn't know if Dean was okay - really okay - or where he was. Sam was different - bad different. And I was unable to do anything.

Sam hopped off the coffin and squatted down beside me.

"Ya know, Dean will get here soon," he said softly. "For me and for you…and we're just gonna wait for him here."

He sat me up and the pressure from laying on my shoulder eased. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I wonder what he'll find…" he trailed of deviously.

"Why are you doing this?"

"To see how far I can push Dean before he'll kill Sam." His eyes flickered to black for a second and I widened my eyes in realization. He was a demon - I mean, a demon was possessing him. "And I think hurting you…will do the trick."

Actually, it wouldn't. Sam was Dean's priority, and I knew that. I'd accepted that from the moment I'd realized I was in love with him. It didn't mean Dean loved me any less, but that's just the way it was.

"Dean's not stupid," I said, even though I thought we'd both been a little dumb not to think of possession first. "You have to know that he'll figure out that you're not Sam."

"He hasn't yet," demon-Sam said. "But maybe you're right. But who cares?" He shrugged. "It's still fun to try."

He brought his hand up to my face and stroked my cheek. I wanted to move away, but there was nowhere to go. His hand traveled down my neck to the top of my shirt, playing with it and, again, I couldn't move.

He was looking at my face, probably wondering whether I'd try to do anything. What was I supposed to do? Try and head-butt him? How do you head-butt someone who is towering over you on their knees?

"I wonder how he'll react when he finds out about what I'm going to do to you."

And now I was freaking out. I knew what was gonna happen if I didn't think of something soon, or if Dean didn't show up.

"He'll always know that I got there first," he whispered in my ear before grabbing my hair and yanking my head back.

"Sam, I said desperately, "I know you're in there. Please…fight it. Don't let it do this to me. You're stronger than it." Of course, I didn't know if that last part was true…but John had fought off the Yellow-Eyed Demon when it had been possessing him.

"Sam is in here," the demon said. "And he's pissed, if that's any consolation."

It wasn't…but that didn't matter because Sam's lips were on my neck now, nipping and sucking. He was slowly making his way to my lips, which I clamped shut.

"Open your mouth," he demanded, tightening his grip on my hair. But I shook my head, wincing from the pain. "Fine."

He attacked my mouth, and I started struggling against him, but that didn't help any - he was straddling my legs now and they'd felt heavy enough before, and I couldn't move them. I felt him bite my lower lip hard, tugging on it. I could taste my own blood now and I did open my mouth, a silent scream of pain escaping along the way.

His tongue shoved into my mouth and the bad thing was, I had been sure I'd be able to taste sulfur or something that would remind me that this was a demon, but no. There was nothing.

I heard a moan of appreciation and it kicked me into gear. I brought my teeth down on his tongue. Hard enough to break skin, I was sure.

I was sorry if Sam had felt any pain, but I'd had to do something.

He pulled away and wiped his mouth before glaring at me. "You stupid little bitch." He moved closer. "I was being nice to you, wasn't I?" He smirked cruelly. "Or maybe you just wanna put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use. Dean won't get here for a while, and demons…well, we can go at it forever."

He got off, grabbed me by my shoulders and positioned me on my knees, which somehow didn't give out on me. The demon made it so that he could lean against the coffin he'd been on earlier. Then he was unzipping his jeans and lowering them and his boxers down slightly enough for his cock to spring out.

I turned my head away because oh, my God, this wasn't happening. This was a nightmare. I was gonna wake up anytime now.

Only I didn't…wake up, that is.

"I don't know why you're bein' so shy. You've done this for Dean, you must've."

"No, I haven't," I spat out. And it was true. I'd never tried, and Dean had never asked me to.

"Oh well," Sam -no, the demon - said, taking that in stride. "There's a first time for everything. Now…open up."

The way he sounded, it made it seem like this was just some awful cough syrup that I needed to take. But it was so much more.

He grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open and then…then he forced my mouth around him, and I couldn't bite him, not here, not without seriously injuring Sam. And the demon knew that.

His hands were on the back of my head, holding me there. I had tears in my eyes again. More shame than fear this time.

His hardness forced its way further into my mouth, heading for the back, for my throat, and that wasn't good because I just knew I was gonna gag. I tried moving, getting away, and it would've worked if he hadn't had hold of my head. Not to mention, it was like some force was holding me there.

And the thing of it is, I couldn't think clearly. I mean, you sometimes watch the news and hear about women getting abused and you think 'oh, that would never happen to me. I wouldn't let it happen.' But you honestly don't know what you would do until it happens to you. Like now it was happening to me…and I couldn't think of a thing to do.

So I went still. I didn't help or hinder. I let him guide me where he wanted me. Let him bob my head up and down. Let him do what he wanted. What it wanted. And I hated myself for it. I was a fighter, damn it. I wasn't just some doormat person who let people walk all over her, but that's exactly what I was doing here.

I started sobbing, which made it a little hard to breathe around him, and then he was moaning, and it tore me up inside because, God, it was Sam's voice. Sam, who was like a brother to me. Ya know, the big brother that every girl wants. A big brother who would protect you, be there for you, but let you go when you're ready. But now…this demon was gonna ruin that.

And there's no nicer way to put this…he was fucking my mouth. I actually felt him jab the back of my throat each time he thrusted in, and my lip split on the side, mixing with saliva and precum. He started going faster, and if that meant what I thought it did, then he was impossibly close to his release. Which would be in my mouth…

I couldn't help it, I gagged. My throat convulsed and I guess the demon liked that because that's all it took for him to spend himself. I instinctively tried to close off my throat so I wouldn't swallow it. I mean, demon spunk can't be good for you. But it was no use, there was just too much. A lot of it spilled out down my chin and neck, but some of it went down my throat.

Something was wrong, though, and I didn't realize until he pulled out that it was that he was still hard. I guess the demon had meant what he'd said. He could go on forever, which didn't bode well for me.

I spit out what was left of the salty bitterness of Sam, and the coppery taste of my own blood, and then I was pushed onto my back. I heard and felt my left wrist snap, and I screamed from the pain. Okay, so my left wrist was useless for now.

Now that I wasn't being sullied, I could think again. I tried to call on that weird explosive power thing that I hadn't let my dad teach me how to control. I mean, I knew how to let go now; Dean had taught me that. But the problem was getting it to start.

I always thought it was tied to my emotions but, apparently, I'd been wrong because my emotions were all out of whack now and the power just wasn't coming.

Suddenly Sam was on top of me, hardness digging into my thigh. His hands were ripping at my shirt, and it gave way. My upper body was now bared to him - except for my breasts, they were still covered with a bra.

I saw the inhuman hunger in his eyes, and I tried to wiggle out from underneath him, but he was too heavy, and every time I moved pain shot through my arm, starting at the wrist going up to my elbow. I screamed again. Pain, fear, and everything else you could that of that was bad.

"Stop," I begged. "Please." It came out as a whisper, but I was still pleading. "Don't do this, please!"

His hand traveled down my body to my jeans, and he unsnapped and unzipped them. And then I felt his mouth near my breasts at the top of my bra. He licked and sucked, and then bit down hard enough to draw blood. I jerked beneath him, jarring my wrist again, which brought another scream from my lungs.

His head popped up and he said, "you know you can't fight me. You should just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"No!" I shouted as a denial and a refusal.

He began pushing my jeans and underwear down, and then he flipped me over. And now I was fighting. God, I was fighting. I didn't want this. Not like this, and not with Sam, and especially not with a demon in Sam's body. And I could feel him there and one little push would be all he would have to do to break me, to break everything I was. This, I knew, was something I would never recover from.

He grabbed onto my hips, again propping me up on my knees, and he was holding onto my head again, only this time it was to press my face against the ground. This was it, the moment that would change me forever. The moment I would hate myself for, for the rest of my life because I was letting this happen. Because I wasn't strong enough to fight anymore. So I did the next best thing: I shut myself off from what was going to happen.

Only…nothing happened - or not what I'd been expecting, anyway.

A door opened and suddenly there was enough light to see that we really were in a mausoleum. It looked more like a crypt, though. Something straight out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Unfortunately, my face was not facing the door, so I couldn't see who or what had opened the door.

"Let her go," I heard someone say. And thank God, it was Dean. "Now."

"What're you gonna do if I don't? Kill me?" demon-Sam asked tauntingly.

I heard the cock of a gun and then Dean was saying, "just because I shoot you doesn't mean I'm gonna kill you."

Dean was gonna shoot him for me, which was sweet - in a really weird way - and just wrong in another.

"Dean he's possessed," I said, hoping he could perform an exorcism without having to read from a book, because I couldn't - with or without the book - or I would've done it already.

Suddenly, Sam was off of me, pulling me in front of him, using me as a human shield, which was weird because the demon had said it'd wanted to see if he could make Dean kill Sam.

"You shoot me, you shoot her," demon-Sam taunted.

I saw Dean, now that I wasn't facedown on the floor, and he looked relatively okay considering I didn't know what demon-Sam had done to him.

Sam bent behind me, and then he had a gun too. He was pointing it at Dean, one hand holding the gun, one arm wrapped around my waist, holding me against him, and he was moving, pressing me against him.

I looked at the ground and closed my eyes tight. I didn't want to see Dean seeing me like this. It was shameful.

Suddenly, I heard a gunshot, but Sam was still holding onto me, so Dean must've been shot. My eyes snapped open and I looked up. Dean fell to the ground, dropping his gun.

I still couldn't move, but I tried anyway. I wanted to get to Dean, make sure he was okay, but my hands were still bound, and I still felt as if something not physical was holding me there. It was like the air around me was thick, like a wall, and so I couldn't move.

"Dean," I whispered, again trying to move, and again being unsuccessful. Sam was still behind me, holding me tightly, thrusting against my back.

I felt something that felt strangely akin to hatred start boiling through me, and it wasn't because of what he - it- was doing to me. That scared me, humiliated me. But this was because he'd hurt Dean. Dean was on the ground not moving and I couldn't tell where he'd been shot of it he was even still alive.

And that pissed me off. Wasn't that ironic? After all the demon had done to me directly, it took Dean getting hurt to make me angry.

I felt a wave of heat pass through me. It wasn't painful, but it was powerful, and it was radiating outwards. And suddenly Sam was no longer near me; it was like I'd thrown him off me.

I heard him hit the mausoleum wall and then there were footsteps running away. I'd apparently scared him off. Or I'd scared the demon, anyway.

Without Sam there to hold me up I fell flat on my stomach, facedown on the ground again. It took my breath away and I gasped in much needed oxygen.

That was when everything settled in. Dean was still on the ground and I had nothing to take my mind off of what had happened and what had almost happened. I felt sick to my stomach and I had to swallow continuously to keep from vomiting.

I gritted my teeth and tried to get my wrists free without hurting my wrist further, which was virtually impossible. It made me whimper as a sharp pain shot up my arm, and I stopped moving, period.

I felt like just curling up into a ball and laying there until the problem went away, but I knew that wouldn't happen. The problem was I couldn't move very easily. My jeans were piled up around the middle of my calves, so it was hard to move my legs without getting tangled up.

Tears filled my eyes again, this time from frustration, and I didn't even try to control the sobs that wanted to come. I just let them flow. I was being loud and sorta messy, but really? I couldn't bring myself to care.

About a minute into my emotional breakdown Dean began to stir. He got up slowly - I heard him even if I couldn't move to see him. He moved towards me and squatted down beside me. I felt him untie my hands - I told him to be careful on my wrist - and then he moved back a little. He seemed like he didn't know whether he should help me or not…whether he should touch me or not. So I made the decision for him and tried to help myself up. Tried being the keyword there.

I wasn't that successful, and then it became awkward. Dean grabbed one side of my jeans and underwear and I grabbed the other. Like I said…awkward.

After they were up around my waist, he helped me up - neither of us saying a word - and he buttoned and zipped them. And, I was shaky now. I felt like a druggie going through withdrawals, or maybe like a diabetic going through one of the episodes when they didn't get their insulin when they needed it.

My legs felt like they were about to give out on me, that was exactly what I thought was gonna happen if I tried to move.

"This is gonna sound stupid," Dean said, voice strained, "but are you okay?"

I hadn't looked at his face the whole time he'd been helping me - I'd been focused on the ground. I refused to meet his eyes, and I didn't answer because it was obvious that I was not okay on an epic scale.

I cupped my left wrist in my right hand and whispered, "it hurts."

I was still looking at the ground. I knew I looked a mess, a mixture of blood, saliva, and semen slowly making its way from my chin to my neck to my chest.

"Did he -" Dean started.

I knew what question he was going to ask so I interrupted him. "No," I said quickly. "You got here in time." My voice was hoarse and shaky. "You got here in time," I repeated.

I took a deep breath and then brought my right hand up to wipe away what was there and again I felt the need to empty my stomach. This time I didn't fight it, I fell to my knees and just heaved until there was nothing left.

And Dean was right there, holding my hair up, grunting in pain, which was what made me stop as quick as I could, and pull myself together. Dean had been shot, I remembered now. I looked up at him, checking him over. His shoulder was bleeding; that's where he'd been shot, apparently.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, standing up again. And I actually could this time. "I'm sorry," I repeated, only stronger this time. "I couldn't do anything to stop him."

I made sure he knew what I was talking about. Made sure he saw the mess I had on me. I look of realization came over his face. He knew what I'd done…what I'd had to do.

"It is not your fault," Dean said firmly. "None of this is."

"Yeah?" I said softly, not really believing it. I thought that there must've been something I could've done differently. I just hadn't.

I tried pulling my shirt around me, but it didn't help much. Dean shrugged out of his jacket - it wasn't his leather one - and handed it to me with his good arm. I removed my ruined shirt and pulled his jacket on and he zipped it up since my left hand was pretty much useless.

"I…um…I used my power on him," I said quietly, not knowing how Dean would take that piece of information. "I threw him off. Got mad when he shot you…it triggered it, I guess."

"Oh." It was like Dean didn't know what to say other than that.

"You need to have your shoulder looked at," I said, wiping the mess off of me with my shirt that I'd pulled off.

"Yeah, the bullet is still lodged in there. I'll be fine once you get it out."

I winced mentally. I'd never done that before and I didn't wanna hurt him. But it was better than leaving the bullet in there, I guess. Not to mention, it would give me something other than the obvious to focus on.

Okay, so, yeah...I'm kinda wondering if I did the right thing by going there with this because I'd told myself I wasn't going to, but then...it just sorta played out that way. So, as always, let me know what you think.