Sam was not taking well to being a passenger in his own body.

After Meg had managed to drag herself (his body) away from the shower she'd spent some time parading him naked in front of the mirror; his hands on his hips. The floor was cold on his bare feet, and the air chilled his skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

"Aw, are you scared of me, Sammy?" Meg taunted. "I won't hurt you; I only want you for your body."

He ignored her, wishing that he could turn his head away; wishing that he could grab a towel; wishing that he could dress; wishing that he could look at the image in the mirror and see a difference; wishing that he could see her looking out of his eyes, and not him. Trying to move seemed to antagonise her, causing him headaches and leaving him feeling out of breath. It wasn't as though he could actually breathe for himself though. It must all be in his head.

"Well, it's not too bad Sammy," Meg had finished her analysis of him, finally. "Though your Jess must have been after something more than just your body, there's hardly enough here to satisfy you let alone anyone else."

Sam had never felt a bigger urge to pinch himself.

"Are we done yet? It's getting cold in here," he asked (thought).

"Really?" Meg didn't sound in the slightest bit concerned, "I can't feel it. That's the nicest thing about possession, Sammy; I can push all the discomfort onto you. I get a nice new suit without any aches and pain."

"It's Sam," he (tried to grind out through gritted teeth) thought. She (he) grinned inanely in the mirror whilst dressing, all the while keeping up a running commentary in his head.

"You really need to get some new clothes Sammy, this shirt is falling to pieces; don't you know how to get those really tough blood stains out? Rubbing in lemon juice before you wash it makes such a big difference. And when was the last time you did laundry anyway, this smells?"

Sam fought very hard to bang his (his) head against the nearest wall. The pain would have been worth it. Unfortunately he just ended up with a headache without all the fun, as Meg grew tired of his struggles and sent a bolt of pain through his body.

"Meat suit Sam, behave, or I'll take my pound of flesh from you," Meg warned him as she walked him out of the bathroom, grabbing his bag and leaving the motel without even a glance behind.

Sam ached with the need to leave Dean some kind of sign; his fingers tingling as he tried to bend them to pick up a pen, knock something over, anything to get his brother's attention. He tried to open his mouth to yell hoping that Dean would be near enough to hear him, but the only thing that happened was his face broke into a smirk.

"Meg!" he cursed at her.

He (would have) recoiled as he felt the solid sensation of a slap connecting with his face, internally.

"Language Samuel," Meg scolded him. "I'm sure you wouldn't want me to have to wash your mouth out with soap, and I really don't think you're in a position to stop me."

He ignored her, visualising himself curled up in a corner of his head with his fingers in his ears, head bowed. Fighting with Meg hurt and he was worn out.

"Ooh yay, I like this game!"

Sam found his little image hijacked.

"Now let's see, rope or chains?"

Sam didn't answer, still trying to ignore her.

"Neither appeal, huh? Okay, try this on for size."

He found himself in a cage, blood flowing up through fleshy bars in time to his body's heartbeat. He could feel his pulse throbbing through them. He couldn't move.

"How's that for realism, huh?" Meg smiled. "Try to get out and you'll only be hurting yourself. Talk about an allegory. Poor Sammy, caged in his own body; whatever will he do?"

Sam imagined a door. No door appeared.

"You're not very good at this game, Sam; my last guest could keep me entertained for hours."

Sam (tried to) raise his head and glare…at himself, "I believe that I'm the host here, and you gatecrashed." He tried imagining the key. When that failed he went for a lock pick.

Meg yawned; it echoed in his head, following through to reverberate in the pit of his stomach. He was really starting to feel unwell. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest; close his eyes for a few hours, but of course he wasn't in control.

"That's right Sammy, and you'd better remember it." He could feel her (his) face break into a smile.

Her (they were his; he could feel the papercut) fingers drummed impatiently upon the steering wheel as they crawled along the highway in the car she (he) had stolen.

She slammed his hand on the horn. Sam (almost) winced at the glares and raised fingers it elicited.

"Are you trying to draw attention to me?" he asked (thought). "Maybe you're not aware, but I'm wanted by the FBI."

"Oh Sammy, you have been a bad boy," Meg smirked at him through the rear view mirror, "Whatever have you been getting up to? Just what would Jessica think if she could see you now?"

"Leave her out of this, Meg," Sam (tried) to growl out. "Jessica had nothing to do with any of this."

"Au contraire, my dear Samuel," Meg used Sam's thumb pick at his teeth while she waited for the traffic to start moving again. "My Daddy killed her because your Daddy broke the rules."

Sam refused to listen.

Of course that didn't (couldn't) stop Meg. "See, he was there that night; watching. Hoping to catch my Daddy at work. He knew what you were to us."

"And what's that?" Sam (would have) kicked himself for asking. He knew demons lied, but the temptation to understand what was supposed to happen to him was too strong to keep him silent.

Meg smirked; the expression looked horrible upon his face. Sam hoped she did that around Dean, he would know instantly that something was wrong. "Oh I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, Sam. Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

She leaned him forwards and turned up the volume on the stereo. "Don't you just love a good song, Sam?" He felt vertigo in his stomach as Meg threw his head back and began singing. It sounded horrible.

"I heard that!" He felt another of Meg's internal slaps hit him around the face.

"Well it does!" he (tried to) exclaim. "I'm a guy, Meg; my voice just does not work in soprano."

"Unless you want me to make you falsetto, I suggest you shut up and listen, Sammy," Meg threatened him.

Sensibly, Sam subsided.

The silence was interrupted by Sam's phone ringing in his pocket. He felt Meg dig his hands through his jeans until she found and extracted it.

"It's for you, Sam," she told him. She glanced at the caller ID and he saw that it was Dean. "Guess your brother's finally noticed you're missing. Only took him three hours."

She looked back at the road, and Sam felt sick. Just looking at his brother's name had filled him with hope. The phone kept ringing.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Meg asked him, grinning. "It's right there in your hand, Sammy, all you have to do is move your thumb."

He tried. Oh God did he try.

"C'mon, Sammy! You can do it."

His head felt as though it was engulfed in flames; he could see sparks whenever he tried to look at the phone. Pins and needles pulsated through every nerve ending as he struggled for control of one thumb.

"It's a tiny, tiny muscle, Sam; surely you can manage that?"

He felt as though he should be vibrating with effort, but his (his) body was relaxed against the seat, one hand on the wheel, free foot tapping away.

"Dean's going to be so worried if you don't answer that, Sam," Meg purred at him.

He was panting now (at least he felt like he was). He was intently focussed on the phone. He could feel it warm in his hand, where Meg loosely gripped it. His fingers felt as though they should be going white with pressure as he fought to move them, but they weren't.

He knew he was chewing through his bottom lip with the effort; but his teeth were bared in a smile. He could feel his muscles starting to cramp; but his muscles remained relaxed, holding the phone, swaying in time with the music. He could feel his thumb remain static, hovering over the call button.

Then it moved.

He (would have) cried out in pleasure. He'd done it! He pressed the button. But his thumb couldn't move.

"Had you there, didn't I?" Meg grinned, throwing his head back and laughing.

"Bitch!" Sam thrust at her with every ounce of energy he had left.

He blacked out at the agony as Meg squeezed him in retaliation.

The phone stopped ringing.

A/N: Thank you reviewers! I love reviews. So I have the best part of a week of Sam/Meg interaction before we even reach what happens in the episode. I have some ideas VEG but I would welcome suggestions! Hope you enjoyed. Cathy. X.