Sam could only watch through his own eyes as Meg stalked his brother. He could only listen as Meg mocked Dean. As she told him how she was going to kill him.
And Sam couldn't take control.
He fought desperately, trapped inside of his own body, forced to watch.
Dean spoke back, his voice firm and almost cocky. Meg couldn't hear it. She couldn't feel the pain that she was causing him by forcing him to listen to his little brother say such things. But Sam could. Sam could hear every emotion in his brother's clipped words, the way he paused ever so slightly before responding; as though it hurt him to speak to Sam like that. But he wasn't speaking to Sam. He was speaking to a demon.
There was a crash, and Dean took off toward the doors of the warehouse.
Meg chased after him, despite Sam's fighting against her.
They stood on the dock, Dean backed to the water.
Meg's fingers tightened on the gun, and Sam could sense her determination.
No. He begged her silently. No, please. Not him.
He instantly felt guilty for what his plead entailed—that she could take out other hunters—, but he couldn't bring himself to take it back. Obviously he'd rather she killed other hunters than his own brother. Especially with his body.
Meg smiled internally as she stood there, facing off with Dean.
Dean's gun was raised, but his arm was unsteady. Sam knew why. His brother could never shoot him.
Please Dean. Just do it. Please. Don't make me kill you.
Dean lowered his arm, looking dejected.
That look alone was enough to break Sam's heart. He hated that he was the cause of it. That he couldn't do anything to fix it.
Suddenly he saw a flash of the gun and a silent pull-back, and saw Dean collapsing to the deck with a bullet in his brain.
NO! Sam screamed, but was unable to make his mouth work.
Meg laughed, and suddenly the image faded and he was again left staring at Dean, who was standing at the edge of the dock. Gun still pointed to the ground.
Sam sighed his relief, only to realize that what he had just seen was what Meg had planned. And she was about to do it.
No, Sam asked her again. Please. Don't do this to me. Don't make me. Meg, please.
She only laughed inside his head.
He looked out at Dean again, and his brother was staring, seemingly into his soul. Like only Dean could.
He knew Dean wasn't going to defend himself. Because that would mean shooting Sam. And Sam knew that his brother could never do that.
Not even to save his own life.
Quicker than he could process, his arm was flung up as Meg started to fulfill her plan to destroy Sam.
At the last second, Sam leaped forward and mentally yanked her arm down, trying to drag it away.
But he was too late.
The bullet exploded out of the barrel as Meg's arm jerked slightly.
Dean fell backward over the edge of the dock and splashed into the water below.
No. Sam whispered in his mind, unable to voice the words. No, no, no. This can't be happening. I can't have just shot my brother.
He blinked, trying to clear up his vision, hoping the same thing had happened as a minute ago. That Meg had just imagined that.
But nothing happened.
Sam was left, helpless in his own body, as Meg smiled cruelly and turned to walk away.
DEAN! Sam cried out, wishing with all his being that his brother would hear him and answer. That he would come to his rescue. Or at least be alive. That would be enough. Sam could live with anything—Anything other than having killed his own brother. That was the worst of crimes. That was the one thing that he couldn't possibly forgive himself for. Possessed or not. He should have been able to break free to save Dean. He knew Dean would have been able to. Dean would have fought free of any demon if it meant saving Sam.
But Sam was too weak.
Meg, please. Please let me go. Please let me save him. Then you can have me. I won't fight you anymore if you just let me save Dean.
"Hm!" Meg said out loud, using Sam's voice. "You can't fight me anyway. And you may have taken just a bit of control a minute ago, but that doesn't matter. If you didn't kill him, then he's going to drown. So you just made it more painful." she smiled, and Sam could feel it.
He could feel it, but he couldn't do anything about it. He hated it. He hated that she was smiling and happy while his brother was either dead or drowning.
How could she smile about something like that? About ending Sam's world?
She laughed out loud, again using his voice. Like she knew it would hurt him.
Trapped in his own head, Sam closed his eyes, wishing he could block everything out.
Sam gave up. He retreated into the darkest corner of his mind, where Meg hadn't reached. Where maybe, just maybe, she would let him stay. Where he could suffer in silence, but at least he wouldn't have to watch her hurt anyone else.
He didn't care if he couldn't fight her from there. He'd only managed to take control for one second, and it hadn't done any good. Dean was still dead. So there wasn't any point anymore.
I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry I couldn't fight her. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. His mind was filled with the sight of his brother falling over the dock, falling into the water, sinking deeper, where no one would find him until it was too late. It probably already was. Agony wracked his mind, he curled into himself, wishing, wishing, he could fix it. Wishing he could go back. I'm sorry Dean. I'm sorry I let you down.