A/N: Wow, its been a long time since I've posted anything. Figured I'd start the New Year off with a New Post. I've got a lot of stories in the works, but getting them to the computer seems to be a problem for me. I got the 'you look like a sin' from the 'You look like sin on a stick' line in 'Sweet Home Alabama'. Honestly, couldn't figure out where I'd heard it before, because I knew it didn't come directly from my mind. I was a little embarrased when I realized it, but whatever. The dialouge was really the only thing I had at first, but then, you know, the rest just came, as it tends to do. Hope you enjoy the read.

Disclaimers: I don't get paid for this, and I certainly don't own Supernatural.

Warnings: Hmm... angsty. May be disturbing. Some bad language. But in this collection, what else have you come to expect? Oh, and its unbeta-ed, so all errors are all mine. Sorry. :)

Chapter Seven: Drowning

Sam was still working at the ropes around his wrists when the door opened again.

"Always a fighter, ain'tcha, Sammy?"

"You're not allowed to call me that." Sam hissed, grimacing when the ropes bit at all ready raw, all ready bleeding skin.

"Aw, but haven't I always called you Sammy?"

"You're not him." Sam insisted, fighting the ropes with more vigor, but he knows who tied them as well as he knows he won't be getting out of them.

Dean shrugged and threw his duffle on the bed. They're still in the hotel room, but Sam won't dare scream, because Dean made it perfectly clear what would happen if he did.

"If you so much as look at someone wrong, I'll take this knife and cut so far up his," he stopped and chuckled, taking a deep breath before correcting himself, "I mean—my, arm, I'll be dead before you can call for help."

They weren't supposed to go like this. This wasn't a blaze of glory, it was a fucking whimper.

Dean had broken through; somehow, he'd done it.

There was two minute window of clarity, only two minutes, but it was just enough for Dean to untie the ropes and whisper, "Sammy, please, don't let me hurt anyone else."

Don't let me hurt you.

"I won't." Sam promised, but he wasn't going to promise anything else, not yet.

"Whatever it takes," Dean whispered before he crashed his knees, writhing in agony and clutching his head.

"Dean!" Sam cried and caught Dean before he did a face-plant. "Dean, come on! Stay with me! Stay. With. Me."

Dean stopped thrashing, and all at once went completely lax in Sam's arms. When his eyes opened they were dark as night and Sam let go so fast, he heard Dean's head thunk on the ground.

"That won't happen again." Dean promised and looked pointedly at the chair. "Sit down, Sam, before I have to do something you'll regret."

"What did you do?" Sam yelled, staring in horror at the blood stain on Dean's shirt.

Dean glanced down at his shirt, pouted as if it were a pesky grease stain he'd just noticed and shrugged, "I was bored."

Bored meant taking an innocent kid who was walking home from school.

When the police found the body they'd only disclose half the information because the murder had been too brutal to share with the small town.

"Why him? Why Dean?"

"Because I didn't want him to feel neglected. I took you last time, it's his turn. Don't be selfish, Sammy."

"You can have me. Just let him go."

Dean smiled and looked down briefly at his chest, rubbing at his sternum. "If only you could hear him yelling at you right now for that one."

"You can… you can hear him?" Sam asked, begging for an inch the demon was not going to give.

Dean smirked. "Yeah. Sometimes. Mostly I just hear his suffering." He quirked an eyebrow. "Because he is, you know. Suffering, I mean."

A muscle in Sam's jaw jumped and the demon in Dean's body knows a soft spot was hit.

"You remember, don't you, Sam? When I took you last time, how much it hurt. Feels like drowning doesn't it? You're inches from the surface, but you just. Can't. Quite. Breathe. You're inches from coming up for air, but something is holding you down."

Sam looked at the floor and Dean laughed.

"Yeah, you remember."

"Dean," Sam whispered, finger steady on the trigger, panting, the dried blood on his face and neck itching and sticky like glue as it dries. "C'mon, fight it. Please man, don't make me do this."

Eyes flashed jade and flooded black.

Perfect lips curled back to reveal teeth coated in blood as Dean snarled. "Believe me," he hissed, "you'll just delaying the inevitable. My father might be dead, but you Winchesters are still on the hit-list."

"Fuck you."

"Please do." Dean purred, sauntering over to Sam, staring straight down the barrel of the gun, knowing this body was better than any bullet-proof vest. "Mmm, Sammy…" black eyes roamed over Sam's blood and sweat soaked body, "you look like a sin."

Sam took a step back, remembered it was Meg—the demon—saying these things, not Dean. Never Dean.

"I swear to God I'll shoot you."

"Again?" Dean looked at his arm, the one that hung limp at his side, blood dripping from his fingers. He looked back at Sam, smiling because that boy was so darned cute when he was being a moron. "Yeah, 'cause last time worked so well. You're only hurting him, you know."

Sam didn't answer, just tightened his jaw and steadied his arm.

"He's all broken inside, you know?" Dean whispered, blood dribbling down his chin before he could wipe it away. "When I let him go… if I let him go… the closest hospital will be too far."

"Dean," Sam's voice was low, "you fight, do you hear me? I won't let it kill you."

Dean just laughed, "he can't hear you now." The laughing stopped and Dean's staring at him with expression half hatred and half pity. "He's screaming too loud."

"Damn you." Sam can't even come up with anything original now. Just spurting the same insults over and over because all he can think of is all that blood Dean is losing.

"Oh honey." Dean cooed. "If I had a soul to damn, I'd be damned by now."

"I didn't… I didn't hurt ya, did I?" Dean gasped, shivering so hard its like he's having a fucking seizure and all Sam can do is hold him. Hold him and pray for Dean to hold on.

"'Course not."

"G-good." His eyes drifted shut.

"No! Hey, Dean, stay awake. Eyes open, c'mon. Look at me. Look at me. Please."

His eyes opened with way too much effort and it's all sparkling hazel and dingy red behind those lids. His face is pallid and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He's trembling, chest heaving, trying to keep breathing despite the fact he's drowning from the inside out.

Too much blood. Too much.

"You stay with me, Dean. Understand?"

"M'tryin' Sammy… m'tired."

"I know, but stay awake for a little while longer. Help is coming, it's coming."

Dean just let his eyes slide closed and hummed an answer before becoming completely silent.

"Dean?"

And the silence, the complete absence of noise is so different, so startling, that Sam wants to cover his ears.

When Meg had gotten her claws into Sam, he drifted in and out of awareness. Like an old slide show with missing pictures. Those days were a puzzle, but Meg only left behind a few corner pieces.

But Dean—

—he remembers.

He has all the pieces, assembled and laid out in front of him.

And Sam knows that's why Dean hasn't talked yet, hasn't said a word, but that doesn't stop him from worrying.

"It wasn't you, Dean. Whatever that bitch made you do, it wasn't your fault."

Dean looks at him, sorrowful and busted and just smiles that broken smile.

"I know that, Sammy." His voice is low and raspy, but it's like the sweetest song Sam has ever heard. "But it doesn't make me feel any better." Dean looks at Sam a second longer before his gaze drifts beyond his brother's shoulder to the window.

He doesn't say any more.

"He's all broken inside, you know?"

A/N2: On the off chance anyone has wondered where I've been... I've been here. I'm still a loyal reader (not so much a loyal reviewer) but I've been pretty busy. I just got my college acceptance letter (with a scholarship if I can toot my own horn) so I'm pretty much in the fatal stage of senioritis and if I don't flunk out between now and June, I might be able to put some more effort into showing my face around here.