Hmm, more people reviewed for this than I thought they would. Maybe I should continue posting here?
Sam continued to advance towards Dean calmly, yet there was a sense of coldness to his walk. Both of them just looked at each other for a few moments. Dean stared into Sam's eyes in desperate attempts of finding his old baby brother in there somewhere. But the only emotion he saw in Sammy's black eyes was hatred.
"We having a staring constant, or something, Sammy?" Dean spat at his little brother. Quickly Sam pressed a blade against Dean's neck.
"Don't call me Sammy," he growled in a deep dangerous voice. Dean struggled a bit against the rope that had him suspended to the ceiling.
"Come on now Samm-Sam," he quickly corrected himself. "You're not gonna torture your own brother, are you? I mean, that's a new kind of low. Even for you."
"Is it?" Casually Sam let the blade run down Dean's chest. Dean grimaced as the blood started to escape from his body. "I don't know why you should be surprised at anything I do anymore, Dean," he added softly, as he continued to run the sharp weapon down his brother's skin.
"My mistake," growled Dean. "I just thought the idea of torturing your own flesh and blood would be too much for you. I guess I was wrong."
"Yes you were," sighed Sam. "But it's understandable, so I forgive you. You still think that sweet little Sammy is still in here. Killing the hunters didn't seem to make you think any differently, but maybe this well."
He dropped the knife and then stared at Dean's face. Dean began to struggle, and to grimace, his face twisting in confusion as he felt heated pain rising inside of him, smothering him with it. He began to scream. Sam smiled as he continued to stare into Dean's eyes.
"Sam…Sammy, what …are…you…doing to me?" Dean gasped, as he tried to control the pain that got more intense by the minute.
"First of all, don't call me Sammy. Second of all, I would have thought it was obvious, what I'm doing to you. I'm torturing you, with my mind."
"How?" Dean asked, still gasping for breath. "You're not that…"
"What, powerful?" Sam sneered. "Maybe Sammy wasn't, but I am. He was too weak and too much of a coward to find out what all of his powers are. But now all that's left of Sammy is me…Sam. And this Sam isn't afraid. He's embraced his powers, all of them. Now he has no limit. He can't be stopped. He has no weakness."
Dean was fighting the pain, trying to think of something else.
"That's why the Angels didn't like you," he concluded. "Why Uriel hated you and Castiel was weary of you. They knew that you were capable of becoming…this…"
Sam started to clap.
"Bravo, Dean. And here everyone thought I was the smart one of the family." He laughed at his own weak joke.
"Why don't you just get it over with, than, huh?" Dean spat at him. "What are you waiting for? Why don't you show everyone once and for all how evil you are? Why don't you just kill me and be done with this?"
Sam stared at him. For a second there Dean swore he saw the old Sammy flicker behind those cold black eyes. But he was sure it was just wishful thinking.
"No," Sam said. "Because I know that is what you want. This is torture for you Dean, and that's one of the main reasons you're still alive. Killing you would be easy. This is much more…fun."
"Are you sure that's it?" Dean dared to ask. "You know what I think, Sammy? I think you can't kill me. I think there's some good in you still…even after all of this…you can't kill your brother. If you were completely and truly evil, you wouldn't hesitate."
Sam's eyes flashed a dangerous color now, his face tightened.
"This is a dangerous game you're playing, Dean Winchester," he snapped. He closed his eyes and Dean let out a bloodcurdling scream. It felt like his body was being ripped in half, even though it wasn't. He could feel the bones breaking, the arms being torn, his stomach being ripped open. And yet, when he opened his eyes again he realized that no one had touched it. It was all on his mind.
Sam sighed finally, after a few more minutes of it.
"That's enough for tonight," he said softly. "I'll make it last longer tomorrow. This was just a teaser, Dean. I'm gonna break you. Sooner or later, you're going to join me."
"Go to hell," Dean spat as he felt himself being cut down.
Sam stared at him.
"I think you're already there, Dean," he whispered his response. Quickly he tossed his still bleeding brother back into the cage. Bobby rushed over to the young man.
"Damn it, Sam!" Bobby roared angrily. "What the hell did you do to him?"
Sam stared at him.
"I don't think you really want to find out, Bobby," he sneered. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he added. "If you know what's good for you."
Bobby closed his eyes, thinking of how John would be feeling-if he knew about Sam's fate. If he knew the monster that his son had become.
Dean closed his eyes as he laid on the cold cement floor. He kept on replaying their little scene over and over. He was so sure he saw something inside of Sam. Something that suggested to him that his old brother was still in there. That he was still fighting. He sighed, praying that he was right. Praying that it wasn't wishful thinking.
Than another awful question entered his mind. If he was wrong, and it was wishful thinking, would he have the guts to do it? When it came down to it, would he be able to kill his own brother?
At the moment, the answer was no…
Do you still want me to continue?