Chapter 11

The place that Bobby wanted to show John was actually a smaller room locked away in his basement, where the walls were made out of iron, and coated in salt. Inside the room Devils Traps lie on the cement ground, and the ceiling was a large light behind another Devils Trap, only this one was bigger than the ones on the floor and made of the same iron that the walls were made up of so that the light behind it cast an unmistakable shadow on the ground that would have caught any demons attention.

The entire room was basically 'Supernatural Proof'. Anything that could be repelled by salt or iron couldn't step foot in that room.

But the room itself was actually rather empty, all except for a single cot that lay in the center of the room, and a table in the far corner. A mirror hang against the wall above the table, and beside the table was an aluminum bucket.

John was impressed and very grateful, but didn't say anything about it. Now that they decided they were going to summon this demon even while Sam was out for the count, if anything went wrong and it got the drop on them (which wasn't likely, but still in any case…) at least it couldn't get to Sam while he was in here.

John and Bobby placed Sam's unconscious form on the cot, and slowly backed out of the room. Once both men got through the threshold, Bobby gently closed the large iron door with a forceful shove. The lock clicked loudly, echoing throughout the damp basement around them and Bobby backed away from the door slowly.

John on the other hand slid the peephole open, and gazed back inside the panic room to where his son lay still unconscious.

"I'm gonna get the stuff ready, John." Bobby muttered solemnly.

John nodded stiffly at Bobby without looking back at his old friend. His eyes were still locked on Sam miserably. He knew that Bobby meant he was getting the stuff ready to summon the demon.

"Let me know if there's any change." Bobby requested with a sigh.

Again without any elaboration, John understood that Bobby was referring to Sam. However, what John didn't seem to grasp right away was what Bobby meant by 'change'.

His drooped, forlorn face turned quickly into a scowl as he turned to face Bobby with a glint of determination in his eye.

"After that demon tells us what we need to know, there won't be any more changes in Sam." John spat defiantly.

Bobby looked taken aback for a moment as he kept his eyes trained on John warily. "I didn't mean it like that, John. I meant let me know when Sam wakes up."

John's tense posture suddenly sagged with understanding as he nodded seeming slightly more relaxed.

"Fine."

Bobby turned away from John and sighed as he placed his hand on the stair-rail. He loved Sam and Dean like sons, and John – even though most of the time he wanted to kill the bastard, they were still friends. But Bobby tried to be realistic about this.

It was more than likely, this demon wouldn't just hand this information over to them. They needed to know how to fix Sam completely, and lift the curse indefinitely. And demons were natural liars and manipulators. If this demon told them anything, they wouldn't know how true this things' words were. And Sam's life depended on it.

Of course they had their usual demon-arsenal, being holy water, the Devil's Trap in the library, iron, and salt. But depending on how stubborn this demon was, that may not be enough.

Bobby looked back at John before heading up the stairs into the house. John was so desperate; he was willing to sacrifice Sam's life on a whim to save him. But Bobby declared himself the unofficial voice of reason. He needed John to trust him not to get Sam killed.

The moment Bobby reached the house, entering his kitchen. He closed the basement door gently the exact second the front door opened and Dean rushed in holding a piece of paper in a tight fist and an angry yet winded expression on his sweaty face.

"What's wrong?" Bobby demanded when Dean stormed into the kitchen.

Dean held up the paper in his hand and held it out to Bobby, without hesitation the older man took the scrap from Dean's outstretched hand and read through the chicken-scratch handwriting.

"Gordon." Dean said spitefully.

"That stupid son-of-a-bitch." Bobby muttered angrily.

"Where are dad and Sam?" Dean asked worriedly.

Bobby's eyes averted from the note in his hands to the Winchester in front of him. He noticed that Dean went from looking downright furious, to completely worried in almost a split second.

"The basement." Bobby replied honestly, "We didn't know what condition your brother would wake up in, and we didn't wanna take the chance so we locked him down."

Dean nodded in understanding, and exhaled sharply after not noticing he had been holding his breath.

"Wanna give me a hand setting up?" Bobby asked Dean with a shrug, wanting to get the kids mind off his own angst for at least a minute.

Dean nodded sharply, as he and Bobby headed off toward the library to get the space set up so they could summon the demon.

xXx

John stood in the cold dark basement by the heavy iron door as he gazed inside the panic room at his youngest son as he finally showed signs of life with small moans and a series of harsh twitching in his left hand.

He wanted more than anything for Sam to wake up and say that he was alright, that he could come out of the room and join the rest of them. However, John knew that it could go both ways. Sam would either wake up and be completely himself…or the animal that had attacked the dead body outside.

John cringed at the memory of Sam lunging at the corpse and…eating parts of it.

The blood on Sam's mouth, and that covered the front of his shirt was a horrific reminder. Even though John doubted he even needed a reminder. That sight had scarred him for life, and he desperately wished he never had to witness either of his sons do something like that ever again.

So John was hoping – hell, he was praying that Sam would wake up and be himself. That's why John's hand rested readily on the thick iron door handle.

"Sammy?" John called hopefully as Sam's head lolled back and forth lazily as he fought the haze his bout of unconsciousness left him with.

"Come on, kiddo. Wake up for me." John whispered.

Sam grunted with an effort to oblige his fathers' request as he lifted his head slowly and cracked his eyes open a little.

"Where 'm I?" Sam muttered tiredly as the God awful headache crept up, making itself known with a great force.

"Bobby's basement." His fathers' voice answered sounding relieved, "You weren't exactly yourself before."

"What happened?" Sam asked halfheartedly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position as quickly as his body would allow.

John was taken aback at the tone of his sons' voice. He sounded as if he almost didn't care that he had lost control. With a sigh, John removed his hand from the door handle.

"Someone left a dead body in Bobby's yard." John began as he kept his eyes trained on his son curiously, "And you…"

John's voice trailed off, and he looked downward not being able to hold Sam's gaze. Guilt seized his gut when he realized he didn't know how to tell Sam what he had done.

"Ate it?" Sam offered, sounding a little more relaxed that he ought to be.

John's eyes widened and his mouth hung agape. His shoulders relaxed slightly when he realized he didn't have to fill Sam in, but he was still concerned. Why was Sam so at ease with this?

Sam actually offered a half smile at John's expression. "I'm covered in blood, dad. It wasn't that hard to guess really."

"You seem pretty, okay with that." John accused almost angrily as his voice raised a little.

Sam shrugged and chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't kill anyone did I?"

"No." John replied honestly, "But you still ate human flesh."

"Still…I didn't kill anyone."

John shook his head in disbelief. He was ready for two ways his son could have woken up. The first, and most welcome choice – was of course Sam, being himself. His usual, soulful, guilt-ridden self. And then the second option, which was Sam waking up being a bloodthirsty beast.

Not this. John wasn't ready for this to happen. Sam looked down at his bloodstained shirt with fascination and a smile plastered on his face. He wasn't a beast, but this wasn't Sam either.

"Hey dad…" Sam said thoughtlessly as he kept his eyes on the blood on his shirt, "I'm pretty hungry."

John actually cringed when Sam called him 'dad'. He wasn't sure what to say to him. Was this thing even Sam? His mannerisms and reactions were too different. At that thought his face turned hard and angry as he made up his mind.

"I'm not your dad." John said furiously.

Sam finally looked up at John and cocked his head as he stared out the slot that showed his fathers' face from outside the room. His smile however remained intact.

"Is that what you really think?" Sam asked dangerously as he licked the blood from his top lip with a hungry glint in his eyes.

"I know it." John spat, "You're not Sam."

To John's surprise Sam actually laughed a real laugh as if John had said something humorous instead of accusing him of being a monster.

"Why would you say that?" Sam asked as he stood up from the cot slowly, "Because I'm not crying over the fact that I decided to feed myself what my body was craving?"

"Exactly." John confirmed venomously.

'Sam' shrugged and crossed his hands over his chest. "No use crying over spilt milk."

"What are you?" John demanded coldly.

At that second, 'Sam' closed his eyes and John watched as the thing that wore his sons' skin shivered visibly. But by no means was it an uncomfortable shiver, actually…John could have sworn he looked exhilarated.

And then 'Sam' relaxed finally, and opened his eyes.

John lifted his upper lip in disgust at what he saw.

Before 'Sam' closed his eyes, his irises where their normal human hazel, and normal human size. But when 'Sam' opened his eyes, they weren't human looking at all. Instead, his irises and pupils were blown too wide – almost completely covering the whites of his eyes, but instead of their usual hazel color…now his eyes were a dull shade of gold.

They were the eyes of a wolf.

"WHAT ARE YOU?" John screamed at the thing that stood before him pretending to be his son.

"I'm Sam." He said calmly.

"No you aren't." John replied flatly.

Just then, the basement door flew open and Dean rushed down the stairs with a worried and curious look on his face. He reached the bottom step and found his fathers' back, and rushed to John's side.

"We heard you scream. What's going on?" Dean asked his father.

"Dean…" 'Sam' called from the room absently.

Dean looked inside the room through the slot and saw his brothers' eyes and his relaxed composure as he looked back at Dean.

"What's going on?" Dean asked quizzically.

"Dad doesn't think that I'm me." 'Sam' replied simply.

"You aren't!" Dean snapped, knowing that this wasn't his little brother by just one look, "Not really anyway. You may be in his skin, but you're not Sammy."

'Sam' rolled his eyes and turned his back and Dean and John as he took in a deep breath.

A moment passed before Dean decided to speak up.

"So what are you? Are you that thing in Sam's head?"

'Sam' chuckled and turned around to face John and Dean again, his face contorted into an expression of disbelief and giddiness.

"Yes…and no." 'Sam' replied vaguely.

"What the hell does that mean?" John argued.

'Sam' chuckled as he stared John and Dean down with his dark wolf eyes curiously. "It means that my human side is becoming what I once was."

"Meaning?" Dean demanded harshly.

"Meaning that my human side, the Sammy that you're referring to – if you want to think of this so one-sided, is slipping…and I am getting stronger."

Dean nodded slowly. That was what he was thinking, but he kept his face blank as he stared at the thing in the panic room – desperately trying to hide the torment that was tearing his insides apart.

"But I am Sam." he continued in a threatening tone, "I have his memories, and his body anyways as you seem to think…but I know them as my memories, this is my body. And it's changing to accommodate me and my needs."

"Let him go." Dean demanded.

'Sam' rolled his eyes and sighed with impatience at Dean's usual stubbornness. "Lucky for you, I'm still not strong enough to hold onto consciousness…I can feel my human side finally rising to get me outta the drivers' seat."

"Sam's gonna fight you." Dean said sounding sure of himself. "He's strong…he won't let you take control."

'Sam' exhaled sharply, and groaned against the rising pain in his head, but held on for a while longer.

"I know he'll fight me tooth and nail to keep hold of his body…but here we are, almost half way through this body's transformation and we're both fighting equally hard for control. At the moment, we're at equal playing fields."

'Sam' kept his eyes fixed on Dean and John intently as he slowly approached the heavy iron door as if stalking prey.

"But I am the creation of a curse, please remember – and a powerful one at that. And every time I take control, this body's transformation quickens. And even when my human side is in control – the transformation is still happening, but slower -"

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean snapped angrily.

The smile on 'Sam's' face widened into a smug grin as he got closer to the door and he was a breath away from Dean and John, just on the other side of the door.

"It means that I win…give it about another week."

As those last words left his mouth, 'Sam's' eyes rolled up into the back of his head as the pain in his head reached its peak and he lost consciousness for a minute.

Dean and John looked down at Sam's body as it went through a series of twitching and his eyes rolled back and forth beneath his lids as if he were having a nightmare.

A groan escaped Sam's lips, and for a moment – past John's better judgment he was about to open the door and rush to his sons' side, when Bobby's voice piped up from behind him urgently.

"Don't chance it, John." Bobby warned, causing John and Dean to startle and turn to face him with wide eyes.

Neither Dean nor his father heard Bobby creep down the stairs. They were too engrossed in what was happening to Sam to pay anything else any mind.

Sam groaned again, causing Dean and John to look back into the panic room hopefully and saw that Sam was making an attempt to sit up albeit slowly. He raised one of his clawed hands to his head, and rubbed his temple gently against the pressure.

"Sammy?" Dean called out with baited breath as he kept his eyes fixed on his brother.

Sam looked up toward the peephole where his father and Dean were watching him. Upon seeing his fathers' and brothers' relieved and worried gazes, tears sprang to Sam's eyes.

When Dean saw his brother sitting on the cement ground looking sad and helpless, he knew without a doubt that in that panic room was his little brother. There was Sammy, and he was losing himself. But what threw Dean off most of all…were the fact that Sam's eyes hadn't gone back to normal, but had remained the dark gold of a wolf's eyes.

But still…seeing that soulful, despair – Dean knew in that moment that Sam was aware of what was going on when he wasn't in control. He knew what that thing had said to his brother and father.

And most of all…he knew that it was right.

Sorry about the delay. I had a pretty hectic St. Patrick's Day, followed by a busy weekend. Ugh. How was everyone else's holiday?

Tell me what you thought of this chapter. And all critisizm is welcome. :)