Disclaimer: I wish…
Warning: The language… again. Um, nothing else that needs to be worried about.
Author's Note: Bleeding hell, everyone's so nice. Do you know how awesome that is? Really awesome! Thanks heaps for getting here. Seriously, not long to go now. Again, just pretend anything not real is real. I'm no psychic, no matter what I claim when I'm selling fundraising chocolates.
Chapter 9: Possessed
This time when Dean woke he was lying down on a cold, hard surface. He heard himself moan. His head pounded with a vengeance. What had happened?
He tried to sit up. He managed to get halfway before he felt cold metal bite into his wrists. He lay back down.
He was fixed to a metal table, he realized. He could just make out the bolts holding the cuffs together, if he lifted his head. The same contraption held his legs.
He groaned with exasperation. He would never live this down when Sammy –
"Oh God, Sammy," he muttered, remembering the demon's words before he had fallen unconscious. Sam was here somewhere. And the demon wanted to possess him. Dean felt himself straining against the bonds. It did no good, but he would keep on trying. He had to help Sam; he would be damned before he let his little brother be possessed.
The door banged open, knocking aside rubble. To Dean's surprise and unthinking relief, in walked his little brother, gun raised. The flashlight passed over his face.
"Dean!" The relief in Sam's voice was palpable, trustworthy. He ran over, letting the gun drop on the table. "Hang on, I'll get you out."
He started working on Dean's left arm, leaning over and holding the torch in his mouth. In the darkness he noticed Sammy's eyes glint. Dean's breath caught and ice clutched his stomach.
"Hey Sammy, what happened to the demon?" He didn't want to believe it, but he hadn't stayed alive this long by being naïve.
Sam removed the torch to speak. "It' Sam, Dean. And it's still in Sasha, I hope. If not, this has plenty of rock salt." He patted the shotgun.
Dean grunted, bending his elbow as his hand came free. The bruises on his back ached as he began moving. Sam started on the other arm.
"How'd you get past the demon?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "What is this, twenty questions? I snuck up on Sasha and hit her on the head." The other hand came free. Dean sat up, wincing at his stiffness. The table had been cold.
"How'd you find me?" He wanted to keep... Sam?... talking until he knew for sure.
"I used my gift," he explained proudly. "I went to Archer's house and used that room."
Dean felt his stomach drop. This wasn't Sam. Not completely. Sam didn't call his ability a gift. And he wasn't damn proud of it. His Sam would have been fumbling over using it. The demon had him.
He barely felt his feet come free, but he swung his legs over the side anyway. He inconspicuously placed his grip over the gun. One more word, just to make sure. But not yet.
He bent and straightened his knees a few times in a show of stretching. Sam leaned over, whispering.
"Ready to get out of here?" he asked. Dean nodded, feeling his heart thumping. He slid off the table, letting Sam pick up the gun. He stood still, letting his brother get forward a few steps.
"CRISTO!" he belted out. His stomach dropped from existence as his little brother, his Sammy, dropped to his knees from the power of Dean's scream.
Dean lunged forward for the gun, putting a hand on it and aiming at Sam - the demon.
The demon stood using Sam's long legs, and turned, smiling. And then, with a shotgun pointed at its chest, it laughed.
"You are clever," it said in Sam's voice. It tore at his insides. "I didn't think you would believe it, or realize. But... ta da!"
"Get out of him!" Dean was surprised at the venom in his own words. He wanted to cry, shake, shoot, anything.
"I don't think so. I like this body. Very... spacious." It chuckled.
"GET OUT!" he screamed, the gun shaking. He couldn't bear this. Not Sammy.
"Or what? You'll shoot me? Go ahead, I won't feel it." It shrugged. "Of course little Sammy will. He's in here you know. Screaming. It's actually kind of... weak. Useless."
Dean only just stopped himself from pulling the trigger.
"Don't you dare talk about Sam like that." He couldn't stop shaking. The anger and the fear were taking him over.
The demon raised Sam's eyebrows. Then it scowled. "I'm sick of this conversation. And you're annoying me."
It flung Sam's arm out and the gun flew from Dean's hands. He felt a force hit him but it did nothing. The backlash of the gun flying away?
He looked up at the demon. It had gone white, from anger he thought, and Sam's mouth worked wordlessly. Something hadn't happened.
The demon flung out Sam's arm again. And again, Dean felt that impact without moving. The demon growled.
"You'll pay for that, boy," it muttered under its breath. It seemed to pause and Dean looked on, astounded. He would pay for what?
"You will care."
It suddenly dawned on Dean that Sam had stopped the demon from using its powers. And was now distracting it so...
Dean spun and raced to where he knew the gun had landed. The demon reached him first, grabbing Dean by his shirt and swinging him into the air.
As Dean struggled to pick himself up, he noted that the demon still had its strength. Placing that note somewhere in his mind, he ran at the demon, tackling it with force and surprise. He landed on top of Sam, wincing in expectation of having to hit his little brother.
He didn't get a chance. Using its own knowledge, or Sam's, it flipped him, sending him crashing into the table. He groaned, stumbling to a stand. He dropped to his knees again to duck Sam's foot. He tried tackling again. It worked again, only this time he struck out immediately.
"Sorry Sammy," he muttered. Or began to. The demon didn't even flinch, but lashed out with extended nails. Dean grunted as he fell back avoiding the claws. He rolled away and got to his feet.
Sam was still on his hands and knees, groaning. Teeth, like those of the demon when it had kidnapped him, were half out. And going back in. No, coming out. No... He wasn't sure, until he realized Sam was stopping the demon from changing. He took the distraction and aimed a kick at his baby brother.
The demon caught his foot and threw him backwards. Dean fell into the table, knocking the breath from his lungs. His back ached abominably. And, worse, he felt helpless as the demon in Sam came to stand over him, a triumphant grin on its face.
"I was wrong. I will definitely enjoy killing you, human."
A tiny tap on the ground was all the warning he had. He heard it, as did the demon. Both looked towards the noise, just as an object came crashing down on Sam's head.
Dean, still struggling for breath, pushed Sam's unconscious weight off and stood, turning to face a very pale Sasha.
"You just hit my brother," he said, a little shocked. A hurt, annoyed look came over her face.
"I'm so sorry. Next time I'll let him kill you." Sasha chucked the gun to him and he just managed to catch it. She turned and began to leave.
"Sasha, wait. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She turned back, her bottom lip trembling. He hoped she wouldn't start crying, but who knew what teenage girls would do. Dean turned back to Sam.
"Will it stay inside of him if he's unconscious?" he asked belatedly. It was probably too late if that was a no. But Sasha nodded.
"I think so. I caught the end of your little… tussle. Sam's fighting it, so it won't come out. It'll be afraid that if he does, Sam won't let him back in, no matter what it tries. It won't come out."
Dean gave her a look, checking Sam's pulse. He hadn't expected an answer like that. "How do you know so much?"
She bit her lower lip. "That thing was inside me for four weeks, when it hadn't left me tied to my bed so it could go kill people. I know it as well as it knows me."
Dean nodded, feeling sorry for her. She had been a captive in her own mind. The demon had been using her to get to them. An unwelcome thought sprung to mind.
"I'm guessing you never knew Mary Winchester then," he said quietly. She shook her head.
"Sorry, Dean. I never knew your mum. Everything I've said to you two was a way for it to get at you."
He nodded, suddenly fighting back tears. It had just been a way to tease them, distract them.
"Find some rope, if you can. We need to tie him up, in case he wakes before we can get the demon out," Dean explained. "We need to get the bastard out of Sammy."
She nodded and took. He was left in the silence with his unconscious, possessed brother.
Inside his own head, Sam laughed madly at the demon controlling his body.
Told you so! the Winchester screamed at the demon. Dean will get you out and then we'll kill you!
You really think so, do you boy, the demon snarled back. You have no chance. I own you now. I own your body. You can't stop me forever.
The hell I can't, Sam spat back. He fell silent.
This was a new experience. Being possessed like this. When he crushed the fear, it was almost interesting. Even what had happened in the asylum was nothing like this. Then he had had some control over his movements, which was why it had caused so much of a problem.
But this was completely new. Something else, in his head, controlling his every movement. And now, though his body was unconscious, his mind was alert. Thankfully.
He didn't have much warning this time. The demon - he didn't know what else to call it while it was inside his head - the demon made a grab for that bundle of psychic powers that had belonged to it. Sam grabbed them just in time, wresting them from the fleeting clutch of the demon. There was a tiny struggle, but Sam retained his hold on them. Then, panting slightly, he snarled at the demon, which began chuckling as it backed off.
I told you so boy. You can't hold them forever. Each minute you hold them you grow weaker.
And each second you don't have them you grow weaker, Sam retorted. It goes both ways, you know. That knowing. I can see your thoughts.
The demon actually became angry. Scared, Sam realized.
You won't last boy. I have no weaknesses. You have plenty.
Sam suppressed the demon's powers further, confident. You have one weakness. I knew it before you stole my body. And pretty soon Dean will know it too.
There was silence for a moment as the demon fumed. Then,
What did you do, human!
Dean wished Sasha would find some rope quicker. Sam continued to lie there. At times he could hear incoherent mutterings, and would catch small, jerky flailing in the corner of his eye. He hoped the demon wasn't doing anything to his little brother.
There was a loud scream from somewhere in the house. Dean swore. He couldn't leave Sam. If the demon woke up, it could just walk out, in his brother's body.
"Sasha, you okay?" She didn't answer for a moment.
"Yeah," she shouted back. "I just...shit... I think I found... I don't know. Come have a look. Bloody hell."
Dean scowled. "Get me some rope first."
She came back a few minutes later, a length of rope in her hands.
"What was it?" he asked, rolling Sam's body over. Sasha shook her head.
"It was... a body, I think. Burned and black and ruined. Not human though. Definitely not human."
Dean tied the ropes as hard as he could, muttering sorry to his little brother. Standing, he tied the remaining length to the table. He turned to Sasha.
"If you hear him waking, run."
Dean was shocked to have to go upstairs. He hadn't realized he was underground. The room he heard the scream come from was bathed in moonlight. Because of it, he could clearly see the body of the demon.
His heart did a flip. Here it was, the demon's body, the thing they had searched for hours for. And it had only taken Sam to be possessed to find it. But it was the way to kill the demon. Hopefully.
He moved closer. Sasha was right - the sight was disgusting. And it smelled terrible. He put an arm over his nose and moved closer.
He jumped as it moved. Breathed. Gripping the shotgun Dean stepped back, heart slowing steadily. It was still alive. Would burning the body still kill the spirit? Or make it stronger. Either way, he had to get Sam up here.
Back in the room below Sasha was looking pale. Dean took the rope from her.
"Any changes?" he asked gently. She licked her lips.
"He's been whimpering. Like he's in pain." She was strangely hoarse. Dean felt his heart clench, and dropped to one knee beside his brother.
"Cristo," he muttered.
"What?" Sasha asked. But she didn't flinch, or show any sign of possession. He shook himself. He was just paranoid. But then again, he deserved to be when his little brother was possessed by the very thing they had been hunting.
"Nothing. Take this. All you have to do is pull the trigger." He handed her the gun. "Shoot, don't think."
She trembled, but took the gun. Dean rolled Sam over and bent to pick up the possessed Winchester.
"I need you to go first, Sasha. We're going to the room with the body."
"Why?" she asked, standing when he did, Dean grunting from the stress. But he frowned; Sam had lost weight.
"Cause that body has something to do with killing the bastard in Sammy."
Going up the stairs was still hard. He shuffled up them, shutting out the whimpers Sasha had mentioned.
"Just a little longer, Sammy," he muttered at the top of the stairs. He almost wondered who he was trying to convince. He had no idea what to do; he just wasn't going to admit that.
Once back in the room he glanced down at his little brother. And upon seeing the cold eyes of the demon inside Sam staring at him, proceeded to drop his little brother.
Sam landed on the floor with a grunt. Dean backed away, sick of scares for the night. And the night was barely half over, if his internal clock had not been too skewed.
The demon rolled to Sam's feet. Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw something fall from Sam's jacket. The two – three if you counted Sam – of them watched the paper drift to the ground. The demon's eyes bulged, before it lunged for the paper.
Dean lunged at Sam, again shocked by its strength. But he had the use of his arms, while Sam's were behind him. Dean used his balance to push the demon over.
"Sasha, get that paper!"
The girl dived forward, reaching the paper as Dean struggled to keep the demon down. He punched the demon, making it stop struggling. It managed to look up at him with Sammy's puppy dog eyes, making his guilt grow further.
"Dean," it began in Sam's voice. Dean let his anger flare.
"Don't you dare, you sick bastard." The eyes changed immediately back to cold.
"What are you going to do, huh? Hit me? Go ahead, I don't feel it. In fact, it helps me. Sam feels it. Makes him weak. He's in here, conscious and all. It's quite amusing."
"How about I burn your stupid, sorry-ass body!" he screamed, anything to shut the demon up. Panic grew in its eyes, quickly covered. It quickly sneered, but Dean could have sworn some of that panic remained.
"Go ahead. It won't do anything."
"Dean?" Sasha's small voice broke in. "Burning's not a good idea." Her voice sounded shaky.
"Why not?" he asked. Was she in league with the demon? He didn't think so, but he had been wrong before.
"This letter's for you. From Sam."
Wow, there you go. Two more chapters to go, I think. Have a nice day!
