-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Freckles and flecks of stars and fog swam about inside Sam head as he tried to shake away the damage of battle. Only his splitting head vacillated, an action of sheer will over the body's capabilities at the moment. Honestly, his entire being felt a bit mushy and uncoordinated. After a few bumps and blows to his heads in many other battles, it was a wonder that he wasn't use to that feeling. Nonetheless, Sam would never be use to getting injured. He shook his head again, fighting against the sluggishness keeping him from rejoining the fray.

The first glints of the world refocused in Sam's eyes. To his surprise, his eyes were dead even on the ground with his brother's amulet. The small pair of golden eyes seemed to stare into him, telling him something was wrong. With one single glimpse of the golden token, volumes of the danger screamed an alert into Sam. Yet, his panic was not for himself. In all the world, if there was one thing each Winchester could count on, it was the predictability that each brother loved each other more than they could ever love themselves.

The mere seconds it took for Sam to register the danger sent his body to alert and he bolted upright. The movements of his body so quick a cobra would have taken more time to strike an unsuspecting victim. To the common observer his moves would have appeared precise, but Sam felt the swimming of his own head. Still he pressed onward, pulling his body to rise upon buckling legs. However, his prompt response was not rewarded with hope. Instead, he watched as the former host of the demon collapsed to the pavement, while the crackling red-black darkness took over his brother. "DEAN!" Sam screamed. "NO!" He bolted in a mad dash, willing his body to move faster than the sound of his voice.

He slumped over Dean. His hands tried to grasp the hell-fire smoke from going further into his brother. Nevertheless, the vapors poured like grains of rock salt in his fingers-intangible as the smoke cloud should be. Sam's cement-smacked brain latched onto his memories of Latin and his voice took over when his physical attempt failed him. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi….."

-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The inflections of Latin crept into Dean's ears, but did very little to help him struggle against the decay of his consciousness. His fingers dug into the ground, scratching at the dirt and roots below him and raking his fingers with a few streaks of blood. His back bent in a strange horseshoe shape, arching his abdomen upwards to the sky. A strange gurgling and hacking rattled in this throat, his body's attempt to fight the invading presence. The smoke, although vaporous, felt like a lump of coal-hard and jagged- gouging inside his throat. Try as he might, he could only inhale the demonic presence, gagging as his mind and body wished to expel the foreign entity cramming its way inside of him. This could not be happening.

Whatever lies he told himself that this was a dream-this was not real- did little to stop the events. His own consciousness could already feel a crowding in his mind, unlike anything he ever imagined. He had assumed possessed people slept through most of what was happening, but now he knew the truth. The host simply went away, like they never existed. Some small spark of who he was tried to hold on, but the demon confined who the host was in some locked away, strange, alien, place. The host pushed further and further out of its own home into some darkness. A place that he could only describe as a void of nothing where you are nothing. He could feel the abyss pulling him to the emptiness as more of the onyx vapors flew in.

"DEAN!...hold on…eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis. Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam …"

Dean vaguely heard Sam screaming for him. The sounds muffled like it filtered through a barrel of water. The voice as watery as his mind wanted to become.

"GOD! NO! DEAN!" Sam screamed. "Persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum. Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, cui in magna tua superbia te similem haberi adhuc præsumis; qui omnes homines vult salvos fieri et ad agnitionem veritaris venire. Imperat tibi Deus Pater; imperat tibi Deus Filius…"

"Sammy." Dean tried to scream as the smoke trailed fully into him, or at least he thought he screamed. He fought against the void and the presence, keeping some small glimmer of himself alive. "No... no...no.." Dean mouthed, thinking the words could not possibly escape and pass upon his lips.

"Dean? Hold...hold on... don't let him take over..." Sam begged. "Imperat tibi Deus Spiritus Sanctus. Imperat tibi majestas Christi, æternum Dei Verbum, caro factum, qui pro salute generis…"

Dean locked eyes on his brother. How strange he felt to be aware of his surroundings, but feeling so powerless at the same time. To his surprise, he was still seeing Sam and he was speaking to Sam. No matter how latent he was to the trespasser within, he held control. However, he didn't know how long he could avoid the ever present wanting nothingness. He had to try. Dean imagined his body pushing the demon out. While he realized he didn't or couldn't expel the thing inside him, it helped him to hold control for the moment.

"Sammy! Get it out of me! I can't control…keep him." He forced out.

"Yes you can… nostri tua invidia perditi, humiliavit semetipsum facfus hobediens usque ad mortem; qui Ecclesiam…" Sam's perfect Latin droned out like an automated voice system. The message was automatic, but the flavor to each word was far from robotic. A tremble played upon each syllable. The same tremble seemed to grumble inside his stomach as he barely kept the gag reflex under control. The idea of his own possession and now Dean's disgusted him more than any corpse they had seen.

"Sa…Samm…" Dean strangled out. "He's win….Stake…trap it…"

Sam shook his head no, but Dean's eyes begged him. How he hated that look- the beg look. The expression seldom flashed on Dean's face, but when it did, Sam had to obey. Sam lost many an argument from that single look. Now, he hated it more than ever. He had little recourse but to accept Dean's command, leaving his brother's side to get the piece of Palo Santo they had in their weapon's stash. He hated the thought of staking his brother with the demonic trapping holy wood, but he had not other ideas to attempt now. The murmurings of his brother slammed against his ears, sending guilt up Sam's spine.

"Sammy… go….Palo…" Dean managed to pressure out the words from his voice box, long after Sam left for the weapons stash. He knew what he asked of Sam would be hard. He knew he could never shove a stake inside of Sam's body. He knew he wasn't strong enough to trap Sam that way. Sam was always stronger. When the time came, Sam would do this for him. In any case, no pain from a Palo Santo stake could compare to what was happening within his mind. His body felt hot as if the demon had burned his presence in his tissue, branding a permanent claim to him. Dean had experience too many fires in his days, but no flame and no amount of smoke inhalation even compared. The end result was the same, the feeling of the hot cutting of his air supply. More aptly, he could compare the sensation that he had become an open flame and the demon was turning his earthly shell in some strange demonic hellfire.

Hitherto, he believed that was exactly what was happening: He was becoming the fires of hell from the inside out. This was the far from the truth of his condition. Only his fingers seemed to still obey his need to fight and struggle. The digits cracked and splintered open in the rooms of the twisted tree. The early signs and sounds of struggle had ceased and the rest of his body remained perfectly still. Slowly, he realized his lungs were moving normally, rising and falling without any effort. Then the trepidation seeped in. He wasn't breathing. The demon was breathing. The stifled breathlessness he felt was his own presence failing.

The conclusion of failure made his heart feel like a gaping wound, raw pain in his chest. Something evil teased at his awareness... someone-something was taking him. The effort was too much. He had already demanded too much of himself, pushed his body too far past what he was capable of. Darkness swirled in, almost like a new form of wind.

-x-x-x-xx

Sam made quick work, returning within a minute to carry out the worst thing he would ever have to do. Sam knelt above Dean again, aiming the demon trapping wooden javelin at his brother's shoulder. The weight of the Palo Santo stake feeling like the weight of the world in his fingers. All of Sam read horror- His face, mind, and body wanted to stop his actions. Yet, the hunter part of him knew this was the only way. He selected the impact target carefully, choosing the shoulder in an attempt to lessen the blow and lessen the damage. His mind still reeling in disbelief that this was happening and that he was hurting his own brother in such a way. He couldn't bear to watch the task Dean has placed upon him. Closing his eyes, he stabbed the rod downward. Part of his unwillingness would not let him to stab his brother at full strength. The half- strength swing sent a gentle whoosh to the air. It might as well have been a blast going off in Sam's guilt plagued ears when the blow descended. He braced himself to hear a crunch, yet, the weapon did not break into flesh. Instead, Sam's wrist had been captured by Dean's outstretched arm

"Oh... thank God! I couldn't do that…just let me finish the excorci…"

Dean felt the final pain go jolting through his skull, making him see spots. For a moment, everything was black. Then, he looked up toward his beloved brother, eeking out an emotional plea. "Sammy…" He whispered. The tone saying I love you and I'm sorry in one single breath.

"…suam ædificavit supra firmam petram, et portas inferi adversus eam nunquam esse…"

"Sammy… Sammy…Sammy…." The oddness of the voice trailed a shiver down Sam's spine. Dean's head tilted with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lip. The voice and the face belong to his brother, but the words and motions were no longer. The cold and gloating tone belong to the demon.

"Oh my God," Sam whispered, glancing into his brother's blood red swirling eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up, Poppet." Whirlpools of the strange demonic cloud rolled and filled inside of Dean's pupils; removing the soft verdigris that belong to Dean.

"Dean!" With the last bit of willpower he possessed, Sam lunged backwards, breaking free of demon's iron grip on his wrist, intent on one thing only- saving Dean at all cost.

"I think not, young one!" The Rider charged at him from the ground with unnerving strength and agility. The demon used that momentum to fling Sam like an insignificant bug towards a parked car.

Sam's body twisted and turned in the air until his soft back tissue slammed into the front passenger side door and window. After the impact, he slid downwards against the door as the broken glass from the passenger window rained down upon him.

The rider let a malevolent smile cross Dean's features, when he strutted towards his Winchester prey. Sam, not to outdone, swung a fist at the demon, finding difficult to separate that he was going to hurt Dean as he hurt the thing inside.

The demon, ready for the attack, blocked Sam's attempt at defense. He picked Sam up, spun him around with inhuman strength, causing the younger hunter to gasp out in shock. The demon locked his arms around Sam's ribs until he felt a pop of a rib bone. Then the villain hissed inside Sam's ear, "Now, now, Sammy. You wouldn't want to hurt Dean, would you?"

He held Sam back against his chest and lifted him high in the air. Sam's feet swung wildly, unable to make contact with the ground. Instead, he used that position to try to connect with some part of demon. His efforts were rewarded with the already shaken hunter being slammed into the metal car hood repeatedly. His breath was knocked out of him and it paralyzed him for a few moments.

The demon laughed, thinking he was unstoppable in this battle. The one thing he didn't know was the Winchester tenacity to keep going. The other Winchester guarantee was they would not go down without waging a hell of a fight. So, Sam reared back smacking Dean's nose with as much force as he could muster. Sam expected the cartilage and tissue to snap under his efforts, but he demon merely waivered off guard for a moment and lost his grip on Sam.

When Sam whirled around, he saw the demon shaking his head with not a single drop of blood spilling from the impact. Sam's effort did no damage to the demon.

The demon grinned malevolently at his prey for a moment, seemingly enjoying the idea of Sam fighting. "Little mouse… do you think you have the power to hurt me."

"You aren't keeping him!" Sam screamed.

"There is little for you to do now, insignificant one."

"Watch Me!"

"Fine then, have it your way."

Sam charged and barreled into Dean's torso, punching for all that was in him. A strange unknown laugh slipped from his brother's lips. Not Dean's hearty fun-filled, sometimes sarcastic laughter, but one that sent shivers up Sam's spine. It was hard enough separating who he was fighting from the brother he loved. He wanted to spared Dean pain, but he was at a lost for how to do that. Strangely, it was then that Sam realized the demon was letting him use Dean as a punching bag. He stopped, shifted back, and stared, seeing that his blows caused no pain or damage to Dean. Not bruise, cut, or scratch dented or marred the possessed body.

"Sam. Do you give up so easily. This playtime makes me is little more than bothersome to me, but I already have what I need," Dean said, grinning as he looked into Sam's eyes. The demon sent an open palmed blow into Sam's chest, tossing him again like an insignificant feather.

Sam crashed face first to the pavement. Trying to rolling over to launch another attack, Sam's momentum was stopped. He felt a boot press into the middle of his back, which quickly became a dropping knee to his spine. "Do you remember what it felt like to die, Sam? Do you remember the knife twisting inside you? I am going to send you back."

"NO… I'm sending you back to hell." Sam struggled to breathe. His abdomen and lungs pressed upon the cement under the demon's knee.

"You have no power to send me to hell…I am not a warrior of hell. I am the Red Rider. No power is greater than I. This world will burn." The Rider vowed in a taunting whisper. He rose and drove into Sam's back again, causing Sam body to recoil violently. Sam swore he felt the bones of his vertebrae scraping along his brother's knee.

Sam's groans made the Rider seethed in anticipation. The sounds of pain echoed as a symphony in the Rider's ear. "Now, it's time for you to die. I have my Appoloin. You are worth nothing to me. Your time to lead has passed. My time is now."