Nope, not mine…

Supernatural

Sam was in a dark, desolated part of his brain. He could see out his eyes, could think with his brain, but he couldn't control his own movements. He had watched as Lucifer directed his body-the one he wasn't even sure was his anymore-to do some of the most horrible things he had seen. He also watched Lucifer, using his voice, command an army of demons to do more of the ghastly things.

Sam didn't even attempt to beg Lucifer to leave him like he did with Meg. There was no point, he deserved this fate. He deserved it because he caused it and he would be grateful when Dean and the angels found a way to kill him. It was what should have been done to begin with.

"Oh, Sammy, don't be such a gloomy beaver," a familiar voice said, echoing off the dark, interior of his "prison."

"Hello," he called. Or at least tried to, his voice didn't work.

"It's so much fun being you, I wouldn't dream of Dean spoiling any of it." Lucifer was using Sam's voice to communicate, taunting him with his own vocals.

"Where's Dean," he tried again. The attempt was futile; he just didn't have control over anything anymore.

"Dean's fine," Lucifer said softly, probably picking up on Sam's weak brainwaves. The fallen angel was so relaxed, almost like discussing the weather with his unwilling host. "Physically, he's fine. Mentally, not so much. You know he won't kill you." Lucifer scoffed and continued, "Like there is a manmade way to kill me anyway…

"You know, Sammy. You are really boring. I mean really boring. The last victim I took over-a long, long, long time ago-had put up more of a fight than you are. There's no 'Let me go, please.' No bargaining, nothing. You're almost dead."

Sam didn't reply. There was no point explaining to the fallen angel that he deserved this fate, that whatever happened to his body would be okay as long as he couldn't hurt anybody anymore. That he wished more than anything that Dean had just let him die at Cold Oak instead of making the deal. There was just no point.

"No point, Sammy. We share one body now, everything you think matters to me. Besides, if Dean had never made that deal, we wouldn't be here. And as for you deserving this fate, I think I deserve it a little more. I mean, isn't earth such a beautiful place? A beautiful place full of ungrateful humans who are so selfish of their own needs they fail to see the way they are tearing the world apart. If you hadn't of raised me, one of them would have.

"Besides, it's only a matter of time before God comes down and starts smiting the wicked… Oh, wait, he doesn't do that anymore. I mean, have you seen one clue that he's about to help? His angels are killing each other, are trying to start Armageddon by themselves, and all he did was sit back and allow it. Man, what has this world come to?"

Sam heard a soft laugh and then the voice was gone, he was left alone in the quiet confines of his possessed brain. He just wished he could sleep, to block out everything that was going on and not have to deal with it. But, he had a feeling Lucifer was making sure he stayed awake, making sure he saw what was going on, what he caused.

So, instead of doing what he wanted, he watched. He watched and hoped Dean would do something fast…

SUPERNATURAL

Shining light nearly blinded him when he opened his eyes. It had to be early morning, a lot earlier from when he first woke up. He sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and pulled back in surprise when he spotted Castiel sitting by his feet.

"Good morning, Dean," Cass said not looking at him. Dean pulled his legs toward him, drawing his knees to his chest. "What do you want now? Going to try and convince me to throw myself in front of a bus? Or, better yet, push Bobby off the Grand Canyon…"

"Sam's not Sam anymore," Castiel muttered ignoring Dean's sarcasm. He glanced over at the hunter, his blue eyes drilling into Dean's green ones. Dean broke eye contact first, looking at a spot somewhere above Castiel's head.

"He's still Sam, all we have to do is find a way to save him," Dean whispered sounding, even to his own ears, like a small child again. With enough hope that he believed he could will the bad away. He wished his dad was there, John may have been a hard ass sometimes but when he was around Dean always believed anything was possible.

"Do you think Sam would want to live after what he has done," Cass asked curiously. He looked away from Dean, looking up at the ceiling.

"He didn't know what he was doing," Dean snapped getting to his feet. He started pacing furiously, not even looking at the dark haired angel.

"Deep down he knew." Dean could feel the angel's eyes on him again, could hear the weariness and impatience in the angel's voice, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to kill Sam.

"No, he didn't."

"Fine, he didn't. But I still can't say he did not bring this fate upon himself."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He was asked not to use his powers. Even ordered, and he still used them. He still listened to Ruby. How many times did you beg him not to trust Ruby, even before you died? Deep down, Dean, you knew there wasn't a reason to trust Ruby…"

"Deep down, Cass, I actually believed she was different," Dean snapped sick and tired of the angel's voice. He was still pacing, the steps getting quicker and quicker. He wanted to punch something, wanted to punch Castiel-but that would probably result in a broken hand.

"Look, I realize he's your brother and you love him, but he's also evil. Plain and simple as that…"

"So, just because he isn't squeaky clean like the angels… Opps, I forgot, the angels aren't exactly squeaky clean are they?"

"Subconsciously you know you must kill him in order to stop this. So, when you finally figure that out he'll be somewhere here." Castiel pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, set it on Bobby's desk, and was gone.

"Thanks for nothing," Dean screamed at the empty room slamming his fist into Bobby's wall. His knuckles broke through the drywall, his hand screaming in pain. He pulled his fist out, his knuckles bloody, hand shaking, and sank onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands, trying to keep his anger in check

"What the hell was that," a voice said causing him to look up. Bobby was standing in the entryway, eyeing Dean's bloody hand and the hole in the wall. "Jeez boy, trying to break my house?"

"I can't kill him, Bobby," Dean muttered cradling his injured hand to his stomach. He looked at the floor, the dull throb in his hand making its self known.

"Yeah, I know you can't," Bobby said softly. He walked toward his desk, extracting his first-aid kit from one of the drawers. He headed back to the young hunter, sitting next to him. He took Dean's hand gently, the young hunter letting him.

"He's been my responsibility for twenty-six years," Dean muttered as Bobby worked on his hand. The older hunter just let him talk, cleaning the blood with gauze and alcohol. "Ever since I carried him out of our house the night Mom died."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby said quietly. He threw the bloody gauze on the floor and extracted a hand wrap. He wrapped Dean's hand, listening to the older Winchester's speech. "He's the only family I have left, the only one."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Bobby joked letting Dean's hand go. He picked up the bloody gauze and the first-aid kit.

"N…no, you're family. I just meant…"

"I know what you meant, Dean," Bobby said taking the kit back to his desk. He deposited the gauze in a trashcan next to the desk, half full of papers. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms.

"I can't kill him," Dean repeated in a whisper. He cleared his throat, looking up at Bobby, and said, "But I might have to."

The comment surprised Bobby, but the older hunter didn't ask for an elaboration. He just let Dean talk, knowing he'd eventually get to the point. "He's possessed by someone who is killing innocent people, thousands of innocent people."

"I know."

"And if I don't stop him then he could destroy the world. I mean really destroy it. And I know, absolutely, positively know Sam can't live with that. He wouldn't live with that." It sounded like he was talking himself into the unspeakable, that Dean was about to do the one thing Bobby never thought he could. Before he could reply, Dean was talking again, "He'll forgive me, right? If I do what needs to be done. It was the one order I couldn't follow, but now I guess I have to." He was on his feet, crossing the room to the desk. With his uninjured hand, he picked up the paper Cass had left.

"You're going to do it?" Bobby asked hoarsely. He never thought he'd hear the words, never thought Dean would just give up.

"I have to," Dean said quietly. He kept his eyes locked on the paper, memorizing the area. He made a mental note to get on Sam's-I guess it is mine now- computer, get directions. He started toward the exit, but Bobby called him back.

Come on, if I wait too long I won't be able to do it, he thought bitterly turning around. Bobby pushed the colt in his hands, murmuring, "If you're sure."

"I am," Dean whispered, for the first time in a while his eyes dry. "I absolutely am." He then walked away, grabbing his jacket off the arm of Bobby's couch. He pulled it on, pocketed the colt and the address, and walked out the door. Towards the end of his baby brother's life, towards the end of his own life.