A/N: Okay, WARNING! THIS IS JUST PURE ANGST AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT COMPELLED ME TO WRITE IT OR WHERE IT CAME FROM FROM INSIDE OF ME! So in the story there's a boggart, and I didn't want to go through the trouble of making this a crossover, so here's a brief and completely made up description of a Supernatural world boggart. To kill it you have to overcome the fear, you have to stop being scared, so you have the choice to run away or face it and overcome your worst nightmare. The boggarts feed off of your fear so the longer that they keep you trapped, the more feed they will get. It's not like dementor, where you just run out of happiness, the boggart will literally keep giving you what scares you so that you get more and more frightened, and they feed off of the fright. Anyway, the girl that's watching this happen was trapped in the rubble for a while before Sam arrived so he didn't think that there was actually someone there with him while it happened. Once again, lots and lots of angst coming your way if you keep reading.

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I watched, unable to move due to a binding spell that was performed on me mere seconds before rubble cascaded down in front of my body. I could see out fairly clearly, but I could tell from the look on the man's face that he couldn't see me. So I watched. Watching was all that I could do now, there was nothing that I could do, I couldn't move to get the debris off of me, and I couldn't really do much of anything period right now. So I watched the man with the dark brown hair that nearly came down to his shoulders. He approached the boggart, appearing to be completely fearless, but I wasn't fooled. I could see the raw terror in his eyes. I could tell that he had a whole basket of horrors, and he had no clue which the boggart would choose. I decided that this man would probably have a shifter boggart. Sometimes, when you have a closetful of terror, the boggart will end up shifting between fears. Say, from dead family member to dead family member. The boggart was already having problems with the frightened, no, terrified man. It quickly, and to my surprise, morphed into the man standing in front of him, as if he were in front of a mirror. The boggart sneered in front of him, "Now really Sam. I'm what you're scared of?" When the boggart spoke, I could tell that this definitely wasn't the man, Sam. His voice was to cold, unfeeling almost, a voice that couldn't belong to this Sam person. Sam was staring at the boggart, and his upper lip was twitching, "I am not scared of you." My previous assumption was obviously correct; Sam's voice was full of pain. He was not the cold uncaring man that stood before him. Sam continued to speak forcefully, as if every word he spoke physically pained him, "I am over you." The boggart smiled as if something amused him, and he gave a single dry scoff, and smile faded, "Oh Sam. You keep lying to yourself. You should really stop doing that. You will never get over me. Get over yourself. It kills you to know what you were. What you still are. You were, are, and always will be. A monster. You drank demon's blood Sam. This is what you became. You became a better being, and you know it-" Sam cut off the boggart vehemently, "NO! I was NEVER a 'better being'. You are the monster. You're what scares people into doing good things. People are AFRAID of you. You're the Devil. People fear you. I am the good guy. I save people. This," He gestured to the boggart "was never me. This was just Lucifer possessing my body. I was different. I am different than you." The boggart shook his head disappointedly, "No Sam. I could see into you're melon. You enjoyed it. It made you feel strong and powerful, and you liked it." The boggart flickered several times before becoming some blondish guy, who had a scruffy half-beard, and a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt with a grey jacket on top of it. This one split into a genuine grin. "Sam!" He threw out his arms, as if expecting embrace, "We used to be close. I would be there aaall the time." He dropped his arms, " You couldn't spare one minute without me. But I'm back Sammy, and boy am I back with news. Remember what I was telling you earlier? This isn't Earth. You really think that little puny Castiel can snatch you out of the Cage, and Michael, a very, very, powerful Archangel, just can't get out? Come on Sam, you know that you can't be out." Sam's whole face seemed to be quivering now, and his right thumbnail was digging into his left palm so hard that he was drawing blood. The boggart shook his head, "Push a hole straight through your hand if you think it'll help, but it won't. Because as I said before, this is the best torture that I can come up with for you, and I'm not about to make it stop. You thought that you were finally off the hook, but then you have it all taken away from you, It's fun." Sam seemed to be refusing to talk to the man. The boggart flicked a few times again, and Sam seemed to realize what he was doing, and stopped pressing his nail into his palm. The boggart took its new form and Sam's eyes widened considerably, "Dean?" I could tell that this person, this Dean, was particularly close to Sam. Closer than the others and it wasn't like them, he wasn't automatically fearful of Dean, his eyes got softer, but so much more frightened. I could tell that he wasn't scared of the person, so much as what the boggart was going to do to Dean to make his a fear of Sam's. The boggart-Dean inspected Sam closely, his eyes filled with pure hatred, "Sam." He all but spat, "It pains me to even be around you, you know? You are such a freak, such a monster, it sends shivers through my skin just knowing what you did. You drank demon's blood, you started the Apocalypse, and you're Lucifer's vessel if that says anything about the kind of person that you are. And if that's not it, if you want the worst, you killed Mom." Sam looked hurt, like a lost creature, which might never make it home. It wasn't like the first version, when Sam had been all up in the boggarts face, trying to defend himself. It wasn't like the second version, where Sam had almost been forcing himself to keep quiet, like he wanted to say something, but had been trained to never give in. No, this was different. Sam just didn't want to fight. Sam just didn't have it in himself to fight. Like he just couldn't. Sam wasn't trying to fight, he just miserably took the venom, but didn't even want to stand up for himself. I could tell that it was a combination of two things that caused him to not fight back. First, Sam just couldn't bring himself to fight with him, and second, Sam believed all of the crap that boggart-Dean was throwing at him. The personal hell lasted for seven more minutes for Sam, and the boggart never once changed forms again, as if it found what Sam's worst was, and had decided to stick with it. Seven more minutes of crap that I could tell was being exaggerated. Until Sam didn't just stand there and take it, he looked up at Dean, "No." He said, his face no longer a display of pain and self-hatred. Sam's face was now more similar to the first version of the boggart that it had been for the entire time. Boggart-Dean looked up at Sam, "What?" Sam took a step forward, "I said no. You aren't Dean. Dean doesn't say things like that. He doesn't blame Mom's death on me. If anything he blames it on himself. He says that because he introduced Mary to Azazel, it's his fault that Mom's dead, that I was chosen for Azazel's destiny, that we aren't living a normal life, so no. Cut the crap, I'm not scared of you anymore. You just take shit that I think myself already, and spew it out at me in whatever form you decide to take at that time. You don't care who's telling me what, just as long as you're giving me the thoughts you're happy to feed off of my fear. But, you know, I think that it does matter," The boggart was beginning to crumble, "I think that it really does matter. See, I don't think that Dean would say that stuff to me, even if he did think that it was true, so if I don't think that Dean would say that to me then it's not going scare me anymore. You deserve to die, you little son of a bitch." It was only then that I noticed that a man had entered the room, Dean, I recognized him from the boggart's representation. The boggart that was now thoroughly crumbled, but Sam continued to stand above the pile of ashes, glaring at it. I thought back into the past to try to get a good idea as to when he'd come in. My heart sank for Sam when I realized that it was around three-fourths of the way through boggart-Dean's taunting. He'd heard it when Sam said 'You just take shit that I think myself already'. He heard the shit that Sam was thinking, and clearly from the expression on his face, he didn't know at least half of the things that Sam has been thinking on his own. And it terrified him. He took a step forward, "Sammy," he said weakly, but apparently it was loud enough for Sam to hear, he turned around, with an expression that I hadn't seen on him yet. His face was an expression of pure sadness. Dean's was more sadness, shock, with an ounce of fear, "Sammy," He repeated, "Sammy I'm so sorry."

A/N: Didn't I warn you? ANGST! LOTS OF IT! I seriously don't know what made me write this, it just came to me last night, and the plot bunny just wouldn't leave, so I had to write it before it literally drove me insane. So, what did you think? In character enough. Seriously, I just went and wrote it, BAM, completely one-shot. I hope that I didn't completely ruin your day with this, but I'm glad that it's out of my system at least! Thanks, please like and comment, I really do appreciate everything that you guys do for me! Thanks again, bye!