Disclaimer: If I owned them, they would have died a few times already. Seeing how that's not possible (or at least ethically wrong according to our boys), it's obvious they're not mine.

Author's Note: Oh, should have mentioned. This is set in Season 1, and I suppose could be kind of AU-ey for the last three episodes of that season. I mean, it could have happened, it just didn't. And thank you everyone for all the reviews, they're awesome!

Chapter 2: Possession

"No!" Sam suddenly screamed, feeling Death pervade the home, or something so very similar to how he was sure Death should feel. And it had come for them.

Only it was too late a warning. Even as he screamed Dean suddenly flew backwards, giving a shocked yelp before he hit the wall hard enough to crash through it. Sam could just make out, out of the corner of his eye, how the misshapen shape that was his brother fell and didn't get back up.

Sam groaned again, loudly. He couldn't help himself. The feel of that evil being was so strong it resonated through every fibre of his being, so powerful it was painful.

And then he felt it approaching. It came closer, and the intensity grew. He cried out, putting an arm around his stomach as the pain relocated itself to there. He could do little more, even as evil approached, as he knelt helpless on the floor, overwhelmed by pain and debilitating evil.

He knew it was going to appear in front of him thirty seconds before it actually did. He cried out, trying to lunge to his feet, anything to get away as it came at him. A childlike fear had gripped him, because he knew the instant it found him, he was doomed.

But the movement only made him scream, and he collapsed forward. He managed to twist slightly and so avoided falling on his face. But the fear kept him immobilized as darkness deepened in front of his face.

His vision blurry, Sam couldn't make out the darkness well, knowing only that shadow stood before him. He actually whimpered, feeling as if every tiny molecule of his body had been stretched, pounded and left to die.

Something moved above him, and he tried desperately to roll away, tried desperately to get to his feet and fight this evil. And then he heard it. Laughter. The shadow laughed, and Sam groaned, gritting his teeth, refusing to give it the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt.

Suddenly he too flew backwards, and up, though it was with far less force than the shadow had used on Dean. He crashed into the wall, screaming as it pounded his aching body. He was so helpless, petrified by fear and pain, and he felt so guilty as he watched the shadow, and, in the corner of his eye, the unmoving shape of his older brother. Guilty that when the world, when his world, when Dean, needed him most, he couldn't do anything but whimper in agony. Couldn't do anything but let the evil into his very soul.

The shadow came closer and Sam squinted, trying to make out the figure with his physical eyes. He knew if he used his mental sight, the evil would overwhelm him and send him into darkness. Into Death. But the shadow remained a blur, a deep black mark on a dark background. And it came closer.

It was then, as it was mere feet away, that colour intruded on the blackness. To Sam it was as if the shadow opened its eyes. And sickly gold looked back at him. His breath caught, for no reason he could imagine; it were as if his gut, his instinct was telling him something, but was too petrified to actually explain anything.

It laughed again, and Sam felt the evil in his mind ripple. He groaned, rolling his head over the wall. What the hell happened, he thought desperately, trying to understand it as the shadow came yet closer. And then all thoughts were gone as his eyes locked on the demon's unnatural yellow ones.

"What do you want?" Sam whispered, unable to make his voice louder, or more imposing. He wanted so badly to fight back, to fight it. But he couldn't.

It didn't answer. At least not physically. Instead, it reached out. Again, not physically, and Sam recoiled with horror as its mind tried to touch his with a darkness deeper than anything he could have believed. It seemed to suck the life, the light, from the very air around it. It was a darkness deeper than even the recesses of Sam's mind that had been all he could see while he was blind.

Sam tried to pull back from it, but the wall was behind him, blocking any escape attempt.

"NO!" he screamed as the darkness inched closer, seemingly in slow motion. As a last resort, he lashed out at it with his mind, like he had done with Eve in Wisconsin. The demon merely laughed, blocking his strike with the easy power an adult shows over a child. Sam paled in horror as the darkness infused him.

For a terribly long moment, Sam lost himself. He could feel the darkness invading everything, choking him, forcing that sense of self down. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, more damning than any possession he had endured, more pervasive than any psychic invasion. He felt that old fear erupt as he, as Sam, fell into nothingness. That fear of his mind being overturned.

He felt himself groggily trying to fight back. But it was like the shadow was drugging him. His mental movements, the movements of his mind, his fight back, slowed, he couldn't think, not properly. He was fading…

No! he screamed inside his own head, knowing he was losing. Losing his own mind. But screaming was no use. All of Sam, everything that made him Sam, that made him Sammy, was leaving, being repressed by a power older and stronger than anything he had ever fought before. And it was then he realized how truly overwhelmed good was.

Light fled, memory darkened, leaving only the evil. And the psychic abilities. But they were useless as Sam lost everything about himself that he prized.

"NO!"

He suddenly resurfaced, screaming with fear as the darkness exuded by the shadow began to control everything about him. It pushed at his memories, pushed at him, at the Sammy that Dean had sworn to protect. It was leaving a Sam that should never have been in existence. A dark Sam. An evil Sam.

"NO!" he screamed again, grasping at the fleeing memories. His mind grabbed them, drawing them close, where the darkness the demon was trying to fill him with couldn't get to them without destroying Sam as well.

He felt a change in the air around him as the darkness inside him paused. The smug arrogance of the demon had been replaced by anger, a knowing anger that there was too much of Sammy to defeat. Sam drew on that to fuel his own mind, and began pushing at the darkness.

He groaned at the intensity as he pushed the boulder-like darkness that had taken a strong hold on his mind. But as he pushed it began to move, moved slowly. He felt his nose begin to bleed at the pressure in his mind, but ignored it, ignored the pain. And then suddenly it was gone.

He fell to the floor an instant after the darkness had gone into him, not realizing that the entire fight for his mind had taken less than a second. The bonds holding him to the wall had disappeared as the darkness snapped back to the demon, the now shocked and frustrated demon. The angry demon.

Sam lay on the floor, exhausted, gasping for air through the ache. He looked up and saw the hand reaching down for him.

He tried to swat the hand away, but couldn't even summon the strength to lift a finger from the floor. The demon suddenly regained its swagger, laughing as it grabbed the youngest Winchester by his jaw. It lifted him as if he was nothing, and Sam could only kick wearily, lacking the strength even to reach the shadow. And then the shadow opened its mouth.

Sam couldn't even scream as the demon left the shadow in front of him and came at him, crawling into his mouth, making him want to retch and gasp at the same time. He groaned somewhat, the only noise his tired body could make, but audio was no use at all against the demon. He hung there, helpless, as the demon possessed him.

It was in the bare second as he dropped nimbly to his feet, in that bare instant before the demon took complete control that Sam felt a horror like nothing he had ever felt before. Because this demon, he suddenly realized, wasn't just a demon. It was the demon, The Demon. And then The Demon laughed, an evil laugh that bubbled from the lips that had once belonged to a human named Sam Winchester, as it easily suppressed the once powerful mind of its host.

Giving an indifferent sweep of its hand, the man it had been possessing disappeared in a shriek of pain. Then it climbed the stairs, smiling in sadistic pleasure as it thought of the family it had used as bait. And what it intended to do to them. After all, visions were seldom wrong.

"Dean?"

A worried voice broke through the haze that had consumed Dean. He groaned, rolling around and wincing as the movement awoke a terrible pounding in his head.

"Dean, open your eyes!" The same voice commanded it, and for a moment he couldn't quite place the tone. It sounded familiar. It sounded very familiar. But there was something wrong. Some inflection that shouldn't be there. Some inflection that should be there, but wasn't. He frowned, trying to reason out why.

"That's it, bro, come on, you can do it."

Bro? Ah, the voice had to be Sam. He relaxed, knowing he was in safe hands. Damn, his head hurt.

"Please, Dean. Just open your eyes." Now the voice, Sammy's voice, was pleading. Well, he never could deny Sammy anything. He let his eyelids flutter open.

"That's it!"

The relief in his little brother's voice was palpable. Dean groaned, blinking forcefully a few times to clear his vision. Sam's anxious face came into view slowly.

"Sam?" he questioned. The face nodded, and Dean sat up groggily. "What happened?" he asked his younger brother.

A fleeting look of pain passed over Sam's face before it was covered with ease. "The demon got you. You crashed right through the wall, Dean. I'm amazed you don't have a concussion or something."

Dean frowned. Obviously something was wrong with his head. He put a hand to it. "What about the Clarkes? And what happened to the demon?"

Sam shrugged. "I got rid of the demon. Salt in the chest, and a few chants. And poof, no more demon."

There was something wrong with Sam's voice. Dean shook his head, trying to get rid of the problem with his hearing. "What about the Clarkes?" he repeated, frowning as he tried to clear his muddled head.

"We were too late."

Dean snapped his head up to eye his little brother. There was something there… remorse? Guilt? He was pretty sure that was what that glint was. But the way he had said it, had told Dean about their failure. He had said it so flippantly. Dean's frown deepened, but before he could say anything, Sam spoke again.

"Dude, you frown any deeper and you're gonna have wrinkles worse than Dad."

Dean's face snapped to stillness, though his mouth dropped. "Hey, I don't frown that much," he bit back. "I wouldn't do it at all if I didn't have to worry over your damsel ass all the time," he joked, putting a hand to the back of his head and wincing.

"Fine, I'll leave."

Dean's head shot back up, shocked. Was Sam serious? He sounded it. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Suddenly Sam rolled his eyes. "I was joking Dean. You know, ha ha. Jeez, take a breath. I'm not going anywhere big brother."

Dean did. Take a breath. A big one. All oxygen intake had stopped when Sam had…

"Did you hit your head?" Dean asked, not thinking. But something was up. Sam was acting different.

The younger man's eyebrows rose. "No," he replied slowly. "But I think you hit yours harder than I thought. You feeling okay?"

Dean frowned, forgetting Sam's joke not a minutes ago. "Fine. Or I will be. I think I need to rest for a bit, though."

Sam shook his head. "We need to get out of here. People know we were with the Clarkes. And now that they're dead…" He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, but Dean got the drift. He got to his feet, slowly. Sam stood much faster, and gave him a hand as he stumbled on nothing but vertigo.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked again, putting a few of Dean's qualms to rest. The worry was blatant in his voice.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But you drive. We can leave straight away. Head north, I suppose."

He was walking as he said it, Sam a foot to his left, hovering. But even with the brotherly worry, Dean swore he saw Sam glare as he suggested the direction. He turned his head sharply, but he had to have been seeing things. Sam's face was a picture of worry.

"What?" the younger man asked. "Come on, we should leave. Like now."

Dean nodded and walked forward, steadier than before. Sam let him walk on, making sure the older hunter was unable to see anything. And then, for the quickest second, his face split in a sadistic smile, and his eyes flashed yellow. And then the worried face of Sam Winchester was plastered back on.

Dum dum da! So, what did you think? Hope you all likies! Not really sure how this plot line will be taken, but hey, it's all good. Thanks for reading!