This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be 5 or 6 parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning demonic. 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.

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He smiled a little. "Hey." Sam didn't want to jump to any conclusions and didn't want Dean to.

Dean stepped into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Reading." He closed the book. "I couldn't sleep."

"Sammy, what's going on?"

Dean didn't miss the second of fear that flashed through Sam's eyes. Sam stood and put the book back on the shelf. Sam didn't answer and hoped that Dean would drop it. That was as likely as hell freezing over.

"What were you reading?"

Sam sighed. "A book, Dean."

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and turned him around. Sam winced as Dean accidentally grabbed his injured arm. Dean let go and stepped back.

"Sorry." Dean glanced away for a second.

"It's fine."

Dean pulled down the book that Sam had returned to the shelf. He paged through it and wasn't reassured by what he found inside. Sam watched him tentatively and waited for the lecture, for the shit to hit the fan.

"Sam." Dean looked up, but the only thing in his eyes was concern and fear.

"Page 107." Sam muttered. "Fourth paragraph down. That's what I was looking up."

Dean turned to the page, scanned the words and stopped. "Rimmon?"

"Called himself Damas." Sam barely whispered.

"When?"

"In the dream." Sam looked up. "I think that was who called and I thought I saw him at the house today."

"What else happened in the dream?"

Dean wasn't expecting the fear and shame that suddenly spilled from Sam's eyes and he sure as hell wasn't expecting Sam to turn away.

He rested his hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Sam?"

"I shot you, when I took the shot that was too close. It went differently and Damas, said he was my guide." He whispered, he glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "I killed you and I didn't care."

"It was just a dream, right?" Dean met Sam's eyes.

"I don't know. I hope so." He ducked away from Dean's hand. "You should get some sleep."

"So should you."

He shook his head. "Not tonight. Seriously, Dean, I'll talk to you later."

Sam left the room and left Dean alone with the books around him. He wondered what exactly was going on with his kid brother. He heard the front door close and knew that Sam had slipped outside.

Sam retreated to the cool night air. His head was spinning with the information and he wished he knew what was going on. Maybe it was just a dream, like Dean had said, just his way of trying to piece together all that had happened. It was all so frustrating, because it scared him.

The window of a car nearby shattered as though a rock had been thrown through it.

He turned and felt his hands shake. Power, like in the clearing when he took that shot, coursed through his blood and buzzed in his head. He swallowed and looked at the other window that was still intact. He slowly raised his hand and watched that window shatter as well. It was too easy, he hardly had to try. He took a step back, his breath tight in his lungs and fear running through his blood.

"I'm your guide, Samuel." Damas's voice came from behind him.

Sam spun around on the spot and saw nothing but the empty and broken cars.

"And you are doing very well."

Fear constricted around his lungs and twisted his stomach. He wanted to run, but didn't know where to go, wanted to fight, but didn't know what to fight. He wanted Dean to explain everything, but he knew even less than Sam did.

"I won't do this." Sam whispered to the night.

A cold wind blew around him and he shivered again. He turned and walked back to the house, his hands still shook and his heart still pounded. Wearily he climbed the stairs and slipped back into the kitchen.

Bobby and Dean sat at the kitchen table as though they were waiting for Sam. In all honesty, they were. Sam stopped by the door and met both of their eyes as though he were facing a firing squad. He played with eh edge of his tee shirt and looked down at the floor.

"Sam." Bobby's concern caused him to look up. "Get on over here."

He walked over to the table and sat down across from them. He traced his finger over the wood grain.

"Sammy, it doesn't matter." Dean stated.

Sam looked up. "What doesn't? Tell me what you're thinking." Anger undertoned his words and a spoon at the center of the table rattled. Sam took a slow breath to control the anger and fear.

"Sammy." He watched his brother's face carefully.

He looked away. "I don't think I have a choice." His voice was low.

Bobby leaned forward. "You said Damas was your guide."

Sam nodded, his jaw set.

"Guide for what?"

He looked up, then over at the spoon on the table. He swallowed and held his hand up. The spoon moved across the table and fell to the floor.

"I didn't even have to try." He whispered. He looked up into Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Everything will just fine, Sammy." Dean was confidant. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah." He sighed and then stood. "I'm going to go for a walk."

Sam retreated back outside. Dean stood to follow, but Bobby held him back. Sam walked towards the distant trees. He heard the back door slam and didn't have to wonder too long who had followed him out.

"Sam." Dean's voice echoed over the cars.

Sam was torn between answering back or letting himself stay lost. He leaned against a rusted trunk and kicked the dirt at his feet. Something cold had settled in his stomach and sometimes it was hard to draw breath. It took him a few minutes to recognize it as fear, not the standard fear felt when some creature from the darkest nightmares had him or Dean in its sights or the fear of losing the only person he had left; but the fear of losing himself and not being able to stop the spiral down. The road lay unknown and dark before him and he didn't want to go down it and knew that he would.

Dean appeared from behind a car. "Sammy." He spoke in the same way as the time when Sam was eight and broke his arm when he fell off his bike.

"I don't think I can stop it." Sam whispered.

Dean sat next to him, their shoulders were almost touching. "Maybe not, but we will."

Sam pushed away and took a staggered step forward. "It's not that easy." He didn't turn around.

"Why not?"

"Because we've been waiting for this for years. My time's up."

"I refuse to believe that, Sammy." Dean folded his arms across his chest.

He glanced back. "I'm scared, Dean. Scared that I'll hurt you, scared that I'll…"

Dean stood and gripped Sam's shoulders. "Scared that you'll become something you don't recognize in the mirror."

He nodded and without trying he heard what Dean didn't say.

I can't lose you, Sammy. I won't let you go, that bastard will have to go through me.

Then Damas's voice drifted through Sam's thoughts as well.

Then I will have to kill him, Samuel. You wouldn't want that, would you.

Sam took a step back and Dean saw the terror in Sam's eyes. "Dean. You can't stop him, please don't try."

Dean smiled a little. "You're my kid brother, I'm not just handing you over."

"He'll kill you."

"I'd like to see him try." Dean easily stepped into the protective, big brother mode once again.

Perhaps his demise will be more entertaining than I anticipated.

"No, please." Sam's voice broke a little. "Please. Let's just go back in."

"We'll figure this out."

Sam nodded and hoped that Dean believed him. They walked back towards the house in silence. The morning sun was just starting to rise as they slipped in the back door. It was no surprise when Bobby came into the room.

Sam looked exhausted and Dean couldn't blame him. "Why don't you get some sleep, me and Bobby will start going through some books."

He nodded. "Sure." Sam walked towards the back room.

Dean watched him go before he and Bobby went into the library. Sam waited a few minutes before he pulled his backpack from under his bed. He shoved a sweatshirt and a few choice weapons in it. He tore a page from a notebook and scribbled a quick note. His hand shook as he placed the note on Dean's bed and picked up the backpack. He took a slow breath, silently pushed the window up and climbed through.

Sam dropped to the ground and took off at a run for the trees. It was the only way to save Dean, he knew that like he knew his own name. Damas was waiting for him at the tree line, a thin smile on his gaunt face.