My eyes have seen they have been shown.

This is an occupation, to stand alone.

I suffer you, you suffer me,

We are the Devil's plaything, into this reckoning .

~~HoC~~

"DEAN!"

He howled his brother's name as he watched the older man throw his arms out as if he was welcoming the walking corpses, couldn't even hear his cry over the screaming that tore from dozens of throats as the demons lit up inside their hosts, the corpses thrashing on the rocks. They writhed up, smoke roiling on the air above the lake, nothing natural in the way it churned and fought to escape and Sam staggered, legs shaking as he pulled out of Kate's shocked grasp, tripping over the rough lake bed and his own feet.

"Fuck, Dean, stop!"

But he was too far away, the water still halfway up his legs when Dean slid down, falling in slow motion, the crack of his knees against the ground sounding sharply in the sudden hush that crashed down over the lake and all he could do was watch, fingernails buried in his palms as the corpses were scattered in a rush of power that slammed out across the shore, the hunter on his knees at the epicentre.

When it hit the lake, it froze the blessed water solid in the shallows, turned it to a gritty slush choked with miniature icebergs further out and they ground together as Sam gasped with the cold, so deep it ached, burned his skin and ached right down to the bone. He didn't stop, forced his legs through the ice as the greasy cloud flared out in a storm of fire that rained sparks down across the beach, black light that sucked at his senses until he staggered to a halt at last, screwed his eyes shut with a muttered oath and felt it drag the cloud down, away, in a direction he couldn't name, like nothing he'd ever known before. The demons' screams were like a wire saw dragging through his soul, buzzing along his jaw. He felt wet heat run down the side of his neck, blood on his fingers when he swiped his hand through it, sharp pain stinging in his ears and then it was gone, just a rushing noise, static humming in his skull.

His legs were numbed with the cold, eyes streaming, hazing his view of the corpses tumbling and rolling away from his brother, bouncing over the rocks, limbs flopping with grotesque fluidity until they fetched up against the base of the cliff, piled together in a jumble of twisted arms and legs, bodies knotted together.

"Sam?"

Kate, behind him, her voice warbling and fuzzy through his stinging ears and he called back over his shoulder as he slogged on through the cold, cold sludge.

"Stay there! Just stay there!"

He watched his brother slump, curling down over his knees and squinted for a moment at the shadows swarming around the older man. Sam blinked hard, scrubbed one trembling hand across his eyes, trying to clear them as he slammed and kicked his way through the motionless waves, frozen in concentric ripples spreading out into the lake. But his eyes wouldn't clear, still fogged with shadows that flickered and twisted around Dean as the hunter huddled on the shore, arms still spread wide and the first jolt of fear shuddered through the younger man.

"Dean?"

His cry should have echoed, should have bounced from the low cliffs surrounding the icy lake but it fell into the hush like a stone, muffled and drowned out by a hum that shimmered along his bones.

God, please. No.

He knew it, recognised it faintly, blinked away a vision of endless rows of gravestones leaning drunkenly together, shrouded in mist and echoing with terrible laughter and redoubled his efforts, lunging forward through the ice.

"Dean! Stop!"

His heart leaped into his throat when he saw his brother's head lift slowly, heavily and hope choked him, swelled behind his ribs until they ached. The older man's hands curled into fists, so tight that Sam could see them shake from a dozen feet away, stumbled as he lunged forward and tripped, landed on hands and knees in the frigid water with a shocked cry as the cold slammed into him. He shuddered, tried to push up to his feet but he couldn't move, his arms and legs numb and useless and panic crashed through him, the chill reaching into his hips and shoulders, creeping deeper along his spine.

It felt almost alive, as if it was seeking for something inside him and he moaned as he shoved hard against the rough lake bed, fingers clutching at the shallow layer of sludge that coated the rocks, ice crystals digging deep into his palms as he forced himself up an inch at a time, his breath clouding thick in front of his face. It froze on his eyelashes, his lips cracking until he could taste old iron on his tongue and he hurt, a bone deep ache that sapped his strength, slowed his thoughts until he was reduced to instinct, driving him relentlessly, deandeandeandean drumming through his mind, over and over.

When he could lift his head, he saw the shadows, thicker than ever around his brother, shifting through the ice clouding his sight and understood at last, thought it's real,his heart twisting in his chest.

"Oh g-go-od. G-god-d, D-d-de-ean,"

He could almost feel his blood thickening, freezing slowly as he stuttered it out, not sure who he was praying to. His teeth chattered together, wild clicking that rattled in his head as he stumbled raggedly to his feet, toppled forward and managed to turn it into a clumsy, staggering stride. The darkness winding around Dean's form roiled and churned, nothing abstract or random in the motion. Sam's mind raced frantically, the Ghede, it has to be. God. It's, what, manifesting through him? Possessing him?

He splashed up to the very edge of the lake, stopped when his boots slipped and slid on the ice, still five feet behind Dean where the older man knelt on the shore. Close enough to see the way Dean's muscles were bunching, though, corded and taut where they strained the shoulders of his shirt, up his neck and Sam winced, rolled his own shoulders when they cramped up in empathy.

He's fighting it, he thought but it sounded a little too much a question, even in his own head and his hands curled into impotent fists. He wanted to reach out, to claw at the darkness so thick it was almost tangible, to tear it away from his brother but he couldn't even stand next to the older man, every instinct keeping him here, where he had enough footing to move if he had to.

It wouldn't have mattered once.

His throat locked up at the soft whisper in the back of his mind and he shook his head sharply, ground out, "Let him go," and watched the shadows twist and slide around his brother. Dean's head jerked up, around and Sam saw the side of his face, slack and blank, eyes distant beneath the shadow that clung to his skin. It looked like some kind of bizarre double-exposure, a barely-apparent face transparently layered over the hunter's, scarcely more than a suggestion of sharp cheeks and too-deep set eyes. His jaw worked a few times before sound dragged out of his mouth, garbled, thick words, strained and choked as if his throat was too small for the voice forcing its way out of him.

"Samuel."

Possession then, if it could speak with his brother's voice, twisted as it was, so harshly that it hurt to hear, and Sam's stomach flipped once at the sound.

"Get out of him."

The older man's body twitched and jerked, rose clumsily to his feet, trailing darkness as the thing inside him rippled under his skin.

Not like demonic possession, he thought, rifled through dim memories of an awful, vast presence shouldering his soul aside. It's just controlling his body physically. Not his mind.

He wasn't sure which was worse, found himself half dreading, half longing for a glimpse of torment in Dean's eyes as the Ghede turned him slowly, boots scraping across the stone.

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

There was nothing there, empty, bloodshot hazel that stared past him, through him, a thousand mile stare that dug his nails into his palms until his knuckles cracked.

"Get. Out."

"I tol' ya, Samuel. Whatevah 'appens ta ya both. An' ya knew this was comin', didn' ya? Ya could see it, 'ear it in ya brother ev'ry time 'e used what I gave 'im."

Sam wouldn't let himself flinch, cleared his throat roughly and edged forward a foot, boots loose and uncertain on the slick rocks.

"I didn't ask you to give him anything."

"Nothin' comes wi'out a price. Ya know that. Ya as't me ta bind ya brother an' I did, but this power I gave 'im was the price ya paid f'rit."

The Ghede walked Dean's body forward a pace to match his, jerky and graceless, tilted the hunter's head to one side and Sam shivered, ice curling down his spine, a chill touch so acute he almost looked back over his shoulder.

"D'ere's always a price, for ev'ryt'ing."

Something flickered, deep in the hollow void of his brother's gaze, an awareness that looked out at Sam and he could feel it, beating at his mind, a hunger that almost took him to his knees as it cramped viciously in his stomach.

"What do you want," he gasped, trying for cold anger and missing by a mile. The Ghede laughed softly, a low chuckle that was nothing like the gravestone cackle he still dreamed of sometimes.

"What's ours."

Sam snarled, pushed himself another step forward, fury burning hot in his belly, raging against the chill that dug deep into his bones.

"What do you want?"

He couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice, heard it bleed through as blood welled up under his fingernails, buried into his palms. The Ghede cocked Dean's head, stared hard at him from those empty, hollow eyes.

"We wan' ta come home, Samuel. This was our world, back then. We were gods. See? We walked amongst ya an' y'all worshipped us, it was so fine, Samuel. We fed on the belief, on ya fait' in us and we grew rich and full wi' it, bu' then the Chris' chile came and all the ol' gods were forgotten abou'. Can ya unnerstand that? Ta be so great, feared and revered in one breath and then ta be nothin', jus' shadows wi' names ya were already forgettin'. Ya left us ta wither away, ta hunger in the dark aroun' the edges of the world but now, ah, now Samuel, the world's so differen'. We can be gods again, all'a us. We're gonna walk on ya earth and make ya fear us and we'll sate this hunger a' last. We jus' need a gate ta come back from the edges, and ya brother, 'e's it. Ya gave 'im ta me when ya asked me ta bind 'im."

It hit him like a punch to the stomach, breath rushing out of his lungs, his knees going weak and he fought to stay up, reeled back a step but wouldn't let himself fall.

"No. You can't."

It pulled Dean's lips into a parody of a smile.

"Who's goin' ta stop us?"

Sam grinned in turn, felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a smirk that was more of a snarl and lifted his hand, fingers spread wide as he reached deep, blood pounding hot in his head, pressure building behind his eyes.

"I am. Get. Out."

He let the power lash out of him, felt it slam into the shadows – and break around them, like a wave against a cliff as the Ghede threw Dean's head back and laughed, the hideous sound grating and harsh.

"Ah, Samuel, ya've no more power ovah me than ya do ovah parrots like 'im standin' watch dere."

It flicked a finger out to the side and Sam followed it, saw the distant figure standing on the far shore, a pale blur of tan and black, trenchcoat rippling steadily in the wind.

Cas. "You sonofabitch," he breathed, knew the angel heard him.

"They don' care, Samuel, they nevah did. The Christ chile's soldiers only evah wan'ed ta grind us inta the dust. 'E'll leave ya both now, no matter that ya fought for 'im and 'is war. You're tainted, spoiled meat an' the likes've 'im will leave ya be'ind wi'out a secon' t'ought."

There is no place in God's work for such abominations.

Sam swallowed hard, throat clicking dryly as he glared across the lake. The weight of the angel's gaze fell over him, settled across him like a shroud, cold disdain that made his eyes burn.

"Help us," he murmured. "Damn you, we did this for you! We did this to save your fucking seal so you help him!"

His voice climbed to a roar, bouncing from the cliffs and the ice that groaned around his ankles and he thought he felt regret flicker through the chill weight of Castiel's attention for a moment, poured every ounce of belief he had left into a desperate whisper, "please."

The far shore was empty before the quiet echoes faded away, the angel gone as if he'd never been there at all and Sam heard something break inside him, a dull snap that stole his breath. Weary rage filled the space where his faith had been, sullen resentment and grief that tightened his throat again and he stared at the empty beach, salt stinging in the scrapes on his cheeks.

"I promise ya, Samuel, when the Ghede walk this earth again, ya'll learn ta fear the dark the way ya used ta, when we were born outta the shadows. Ain't nothin' we won't take. Angels an' demons, man an' beast, we'll devour alla ya an' it'll make their Apocalypse seem like nothin'."

The hunter tore his gaze away, let it drift across his brother's face as the shadows slid over Dean's body, hungrily possessive and Sam shuddered, hoped his brother couldn't feel their touch as they wound around him. He forced his eyes up, met the greedy heat of the Ghede's stare, sharp edges of the ruined face he'd never managed to forget flickering over Dean's.

It was growing clearer, he realised with a jolt of near panic, the shadow thickening, clouding the sight of the older man's face. Swallowing him, Sam thought, and had to clamp down on the urge to send power snapping out at the Ghede, to just yank it out of his brother's body and soul.

"Ya want ta save him, Samuel?"

He curled his hands tighter, until his knuckles sang with tension, his teeth grinding together with frustration. It had been a long time since he'd felt this helpless, the power rippling in his blood useless.

"You can't have him, or the world. I won't let you."

"Ya can't stop me," the Ghede growled, sudden fury lashing the frozen waves, sending ice chips driving into Sam's face and he winced, threw an arm across his eyes. "You're an insect, Samuel, like a bug crawlin' on the floor until I step on ya. Did ya really think ya could control me? Did ya really think ya could use me wi'out consequences? We were gods. An' we'll be gods ag'in."

"No," he forced out against the storm of the Ghede's wrath. "I don't care what it takes. I'll stop you."

"Ya won't," the Ghede sneered, the last traces of his brother's voice slipping away, buried in the rotten silk of it's taunting. "Ya won't, because you'll always try ta save ya brother firs'. 'E's awake inside, Samuel. Ya wan' ta feel what 'e feels?"

And it slammed into him, drove him back as he heard it laugh, the thick cackle following him down as he drowned in the rush of sensation swarming over him.

Pressure slick and so cold it burns his skin, tracing shapes down his back, his sides, his belly and he can't move, can't stop feeling, blind and deaf and numb to everything except the awful touch, greedy, hunger so intense he can't sense more than the first edges of it, the impossible depth of it looming over him and they won't stop, press harder against him, subtle laughter felt more than heard as he flinches violently inside the cage in his head when they slide into his mouth, push between his legs, filling him and covering him, every inch of skin buried in their dark, consuming him utterly and whispering in his mind this is what it will be, this is what we will do to the world. He wants to scream but his body isn't his now, some vast thing playing him like a puppet and all he can do was feel the shadows-made-flesh as they push inside him deeper and deeper down his throat under his skin,searching for something inside him, everywhere, crush him and hollow him out and leave him cold and empty and soul-sick at the intrusion, violation –

He surfaced with a gasp, shuddered and blinked down at his hands, bloodless and trembling, heard the Ghede laugh before he was dragged under again, drowning in the raw spill of his brother's mind.

They devour him, endlessly ravenous, their hunger like acid burning through his veins as they tear at him, stroke the inside of his skin, mine mine mine clamouring from hundreds of incorporeal mouths and he can't breathe, can't hear his heart beating as they fight over him, scrabble for every scrap of his soul, desperate to taste, to feed, to gorge themselves on the sensations crowding him inside his prison, cold sinking bone-deep, the ache in every muscle as his body strains to hold them, to contain a thousand gods and they laugh inside him, scraping at his mind as he screams and rages, batters at the walls of the cage until his hands bleed and knows it isn't real, knows it's in his head, a manifestation of their possession but it still sends panic storming through him when he feels them smother him, swallow him completely, whisper of the lock buried deep and he can almost hear it click knows what it will feel like when it turns when it opens inside him when he opens wide to let them through and they scream their laughter, their lust, their hunger for the world, their promise –

"Fuck," he bit out, blinked and found himself on his knees again in the ice, shivering uncontrollably, the Ghede's laughter like blows. Sam shook his head, swallowed thickly, forcing the sensation of being consumed away and he pried one hand out of the frozen lake, dragged it trembling across his mouth.

God, Dean, he thought, pulled his head up and stared at the living darkness shrouding his brother like a second skin, inches thick and writhing endlessly from head to –

Sam gaped at Dean's boots, scuffed and wet and clear, the shadows twisting around his ankles but no further.

Holy water.

It hit him like a salt round fired point blank and he didn't give himself time to think, to question if it could really be so simple, couldn't stand the thought of that possessive, greedy touch against his brother's skin, against his soul any longer. He just lunged, threw himself up, long arms reaching out to grasp Dean's shoulders, sinking wrist-deep into the dark and it made the lake feel like a warm spring, cold so fierce it burned him, seared his hands and he felt them cramp agonisingly, cried out as he let himself fall back, dragging his brother with him. The Ghede roared at him, twisted away but he had momentum and surprise on his side and he couldn't have let go if he wanted to, his hands locked solidly into claws, digging deep into Dean's arms.

The water splashed up around Sam as he crashed through, rolling as he went under and the Ghede's roar climbed to a hideous scream as he pushed his brother down into the lake, ice thawing in a heartbeat. He could still feel the awful sound, even as the water drowned it, shivering against his skin, chiming deep inside him as he held Dean under, the hunter's body thrashing wildly. He held on desperately, tears streaming unnoticed down his face, his jaw clenched tight, grinding together and he gasped as the Ghede heaved up against him, breaking the surface. It howled, a ragged skull super-imposed over his brother's face, it's perpetual grin and his mouth stretched wide and Sam choked back a cry as he scrabbled for a new hold, spread his hands across his brother's chest and shoved Dean back down, thought he felt bone crack under his hands as he slammed the older man's back into the lake bed, pushed down as hard as he could until his brother's skin stopped rippling under his palms, until the agonising cold biting at his hands thawed.

:: ::

Coming back was like clawing his way out of his own grave only instead of dirt in his mouth he could taste ozone and rust. The world was screaming around him, something tearing, shredding under his fingernails as he ripped through the prison inside his head and slammed back into his body, opened his mouth to gasp or cry or scream too, he wasn't sure which and then it didn't really matter as his throat flooded with ice. He seized, sharp pain ripping through his side, felt big hands spread across his chest pinning him down against a hard, uneven surface and panic roared through his head. He flailed wildly, kicking and lashing out at the figure above him, choking frantically as stars began to spread across the black behind his eyes, screwed shut and he snapped them open, suddenly desperate to see who was drowning him, caught a dim glimpse of blue sky and a pillar of dark twisting up behind the silhouette he knew as well as his own and remembered, shadows winding around him, hungry, greedy as they forced him wide open, pushed inside, filled him until he couldn't hold any more, whispered awful promises inside his head as they devoured him.

He stilled under his brother's hands, random twitches spasming through his body as he froze, horror stirring thick in his guts.

We can be gods again, all'a us. We're gonna walk on ya earth and make ya fear us and we'll sate this hunger a' last. We jus' need a gate ta come back from the edges, and ya brother, 'e's it.

He swallowed water, darkness plucking at the corners of his vision but it wasn't the living shadows of before, just his body failing and for a moment he held himself still, thought I can't stop them. They're going to come through, they know the way now and I can't stop them but if I'm gone, if I'm dead and gone...

It wouldn't be enough. Even if he could choke down the need to fight that beat relentlessly inside his soul, even if he could forget the stark terror of giving in again, of saying yes and... becoming again, it would never be enough to stop them.

He lifted one hand, slapped it clumsily against Sam's arm and felt the tremors there as he wrapped his fingers around the younger man's wrist, wet heat splashing across his knuckles and then the pressure holding him down shifted, his brother's hands fisting in his shirt and dragging him up, holding him steady as he choked and vomited up silty water that burned his throat.

"'s okay, it's okay Dean, I got you, I got you," Sam chanted hoarsely, and he felt it more than he heard it, a steady rumble against his side as Dean leaned into his brother, let the younger man take the weight he couldn't carry now, the world narrowed down to the ice lining his lungs and the need to remember how to breathe.

Slowly, he gasped down more air than water, sagged limply into Sam's hold, waves rippling around his thighs, sodden denim scraping coarsely against chilled skin. He felt Sam shift, thought maybe the younger man was looking back across the lake and then Sam stiffened, swore softly.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Dean."

Dean blinked his eyes clear, peeled them open and squinted past his brother at the empty lake, the scattered reflection of the pale sky bright and clear and it took him a long moment to realise what was wrong with that image, what was missing.

"Hell no," he tried to whisper but his voice was just gone and it hurt, like razor wire dragged through his throat. He rubbed at it, tried to pull away from his brother but his muscles were strengthless and he just toppled sideways until Sam caught him, steadied him with a grip like iron around his biceps. A flicker of white motion caught his eye and he craned round, stared hard at the pale blur on the far shore. He tugged gently at his arm, still locked in his brother's hand, ticked his head up when he felt Sam's gaze search for his and knew the moment the younger man saw the tiny figure watching them, anger and fear and guilt roiling over him.

He wasn't sure who it came from

"You think he got them out?"

Dean drew in a short breath to answer, bone shifting in his ribs and winced, thought better of it. He shrugged gingerly instead, the angel's eyes raking across him, their heat not lessened by the distance.

Please, Cas, he thought. Tell me you got them out.

Faintly, he thought he saw Castiel nod gravely, the slow burn of his gaze softened for a moment by compassion and then the angel winked out between one shuddering breath and the next, left them alone again in the shallows, miniature icebergs still thawing in the lake. Above, the smoke wound up into the clear sky until it drifted across the sun and they were swamped in its shadow. Dean shuddered at the thought, scrubbed restless hands down his arms as if he could wipe away the memory of the living shadows sliding slick and cold over his skin. His stomach churned but he was empty, hollowed out and it settled quickly as he rolled gingerly to his hand and knees, one arm clamped against his side.

"Dean? You okay?"

He didn't look up, could feel his brother's puppy-dog eyes and grimaced.

Think you cracked a couple ribs, he thought, jerked one shoulder in a shrug again as he pushed up, felt Sam splash through the knee deep water to hover at his back as he squinted out across the empty lake. It was clear, the thick, foul sludge tainting it gone as if it had never existed and for a second he let himself believe he'd imagined it.

Hit my head and dreamed it all, he whispered to himself, clung to the illusion but his head was the only thing that didn't feel as though someone had stripped him open and scoured his skin raw with wire wool, stuffed him full of iron tacks and broken glass and stitched him back up...

Jesus, Dean.

He shook his head, watched the shadow of the smoke play across the water, scattered and refracted until it looked like a thousand winking black eyes against the blue mirror and tried not to feel as though his skin was coated with the rot that hung thick in the air from the tangle of corpses at the base of the cliff. He grimaced in disgust, switched to breathing through his mouth.

They'd have to move soon, he knew, to make their way back through the burning town to the motel and the Impala but he was too drained to move, too enervated to face the emptiness and the crawling sensation of inhuman eyes tracking them that he remembered from the deserted streets of River Grove, from Cold Oak and all he could do was kneel in the shallows like he had in the mud that night, shivering while the world turned around him.

Except nothing was really quite like it had been then any more. Got a dead god living in my head, he thought to himself. Got a whole damn posse of them trying to rip a hole through my soul to get back to the world and eat it like a fuckin' donut hole while heaven and hell fight over the scraps.

Christ.

He dragged in a slow breath that lit fire along his ribs, scraped through his raw throat and shuddered as it left behind a taste like ancient graveyards and remembered the way it felt as though his brother's name was tearing through his throat when the Ghede spoke, the way he'd felt its glee and anticipation simmering under his skin, raw power burning along his nerves as it shredded the demons and turned the lake to ice.

I can't stop them, he thought again, tired resignation laced with fear threading through his mind. I can't stop them at all.

"We're fucked, Sam," he croaked.

I promise ya, Samuel, when the Ghede walk this earth again, ya'll learn ta fear the dark...

"We're so fucked."

~~HoC~~

Notes to follow...