This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be like six parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

They woke early and met Bobby down in the kitchen. Coffee had been started and it was needed. Sam grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Dean sat down across from him.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine." Sam took a drink. Bobby's coffee wasn't particularly good, but it was hot and strong.

Bobby sat down. "You up for today?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sam met his eyes.

"Leaving in fifteen then."

Sam finished his coffee and left the table. He went up to the room and carefully organized what he would need for the hunt.

"I don't think you should go." Dean leaned against the doorframe.

"I'm fine."

Dean watched him carefully. "You're not top form."

He turned. "Never stopped us before." He paused. "Worried I'm going to put a round in you?"

"Not until you said that." He smirked.

"I won't."

He rolled his eyes. "You had better not."

Sam grabbed the bag and pushed past Dean. "See you out back."

Dean stood in the room for a few minutes. In all honesty, he was a little concerned that Sam would end up putting a bullet in him, but that wasn't his main concern. There was something about Sam he couldn't read and that worried him more than anything else.

Bobby, Dean and Sam climbed into Bobby's truck and headed out towards the house. On the way over, Bobby filled them in on the details. The decapitated house loomed at the end of the driveway. The windows were empty and gaping and the front door was missing.

"Cheery." Sam observed.

"Practically your dream home, Samantha." Dean climbed from the truck.

Sam jumped down behind him.

Bobby walked around. "Well, I'll help you move in after we get the current occupants out."

The three walked towards the house. In the few steps they walked towards the house, all joking and sarcasm was gone. The seriousness of the hunt took over, as it always did, and they climbed up into the house. Sam winced as he moved his arm in a way that he realized he shouldn't. Dean noticed, but didn't say anything.

The floor creaked under them in a way that made them wonder about the soundness of the structure.

"Hope this floor holds out." Bobby muttered.

Dean glanced around the dreary rooms. "Let's find this thing before we have to rely on the floor too much longer."

As if his wish had been granted, a plate went flying through the air and the three ducked as he smashed against the wall.

"Anything else you want?" Sam glanced over with a smile.

Dean grabbed his gun. "A beer and a hot girl, but I can wait."

The spirit materialized in front of them, a man in bloody overalls. Even without being an angered spirit, he would have been intimidating. In half a second, the spirit had Sam pinned against the wall by his throat. Sam struggled to get away from the icy grip that constricted his breath. Automatically both Dean and Bobby aimed, but there was no way of getting the spirit with the rock salt without getting Sam.

"Just shoot." Sam gasped. "Hurry."

"Sam." Dean glanced over at Bobby.

"It's just rock salt." He managed despite having no breath.

Bobby saw Dean hesitate. "Sorry, Sam." He fired.

The spirit disappeared and Sam dropped to the floor. Rock salt had hit Sam as well as the spirit, but other than the initial pain and the later bruising, there was no lasting damage. He stayed on his hands and knees and tried to catch his breath. Dean was at his brother's side in a second.

"I'm going to look for that bastard's bones." Bobby headed towards the basement.

Dean nodded. "We'll be down in a minute."

Sam slowly eased back against the wall.

Dean knelt in front of Sam. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Just give me a second."

"Why is it always you?" Dean was half joking.

Sam shrugged and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Dean was about to ask if Sam was all right, but the glare he received silenced the question. They slipped down into the basement and met up with Bobby at the bottom of the stairs.

"You okay?" Bobby looked over at Sam.

He nodded.

"I found the bones and was just going to get you guys."

Bobby turned and was followed by Sam and Dean. They found themselves in a dirt -loored room. Part of an arm bone stuck through the dirt in the corner. Bobby tossed Sam a container of salt as he and Dean started to dig. As soon as the bones were clear, Sam emptied the salt over them. That was also the same moment that the spirit decided return as well.

Dean and Bobby turned, their hands on their guns.

"Sam." Dean muttered.

Sam grabbed the lighter fluid and lighter from Dean's pocket and doused the bones. Both Dean and Bobby had to fire to keep the spirit back. Sam finally got the bones lit and smoke blended with the dust in the air. As soon as the spirit was gone, the three raced from the house before any of the ancient wood could catch.

Once out in the yard, they walked towards the truck. Sam stopped as he caught sight of someone standing near the tree line. The man was dressed in black and had dark hair. He held Sam's gaze and smiled.

"Sam." Dean called from by the truck.

Sam turned to his brother. Dean hid the concern well, but not entirely.

"What were you looking at?" He leaned against the hood.

He turned back, but there was nothing but overgrown yard and trees. Sam shook his head and walked towards the truck.

"Sammy?" Dean caught his brother's arm.

"Thought I saw something, but, must have been a shadow or something." He lowered his eyes and climbed into the truck.

Dean caught Bobby's eyes before they climbed into the truck. Dean believed that Sam saw a shadow like he believed that Santa and the Easter Bunny were real. Sam wasn't venturing anything else and was looking determinedly out the window. He didn't say anything the entire way back to Bobby's.

Bobby pulled into the driveway. Sam was out of the truck without a word. Dean jumped down and grabbed Sam's arm.

"Level with me. What's going on?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't really know."

"What?"

"Believe me, Dean. I'd tell you if I could." He pulled away and went up to the house.

Sam spent the evening in Bobby's library. He paged through a stack of books, took notes when something caught his eyes.

"Sam." Dean stood in the doorway.

He looked up from the book.

"You want anything for dinner?"

"No."

"Gotta eat something." He glanced at what Sam was reading.

"Not hungry." He stood and went over to the shelves.

Dean waited a few seconds before he left. Sam turned and pulled another book from the shelves and sat down. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for and only looked because he had the suspicion that he'd know it when he saw it. It didn't seem long before his eyes burned with fatigue and the words started to blur into the next.

He returned the books back to the shelves. He slipped upstairs quietly to avoid being heard by Bobby and Dean as they talked in the kitchen. Sam slipped under the blankets and let sleep claim him.

Sam was back in the clearing, the gun in his hand and Dean held hostage by the Ibex.

"Shoot it." It was the voice from the phone call.

Sam turned and saw the man from along the tree line at the house. Up close, his eyes were dark and shadowed. Sam immediately felt powerful, like he did when he took the shot.

"Fire the gun, Samuel." He smiled, a cold smile that held nothing but malice.

"Who are you?"

"Damas. Fire the gun."

Sam turned back to his target. He was about to pull the trigger when Damas reached over and shifted Sam's hand over.

"Fire now."

He smiled and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Dean and then the Ibex. Both fell to the ground, dead the second before they hit.

"Are you doing this?" Sam turned with a smile on his face.

"No." Damas looked over Sam like a long lost son. "It's all you, I'm just your guide."

Sam holstered the gun and looked over at Dean's body. "I should feel remorse, but I don't."

Damas smirked and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Let me show you all that you can do."

He met Damas's eyes "Okay."

Sam let himself be led from the clearing.

In the dark hours of the early morning, Sam woke with a start. His heart pounded against his chest and cold sweat dampened his shirt. He looked over at Dean in the low light and held his breath until he heard his older brother breathe. Sam slipped out of bed and back down to the books.

He turned on the lamp and scanned the shelves for a particular book. He pulled a battered, black leather book from the top shelf and sat down in the chair. He ran his finger over the words until he found what he was looking for.

Rimmon - Also known as Damas, is the Ambassodor of Hell for Russia.

Sam swallowed and felt his blood run cold again.

"Sam?" Dean stood in the doorway, his eyes were dark with worry.

He looked up into his older brother's eyes.