Welcome to Picking Up The Pieces. If you are here on the heels of Going It Alone, welcome back. If this is your first time in the GIA/PUTP verse… You're going to be very confused. Going It Alone was Dean's story and Picking Up The pieces will be both Sam and Dean's together.

If you are a Sam girl and aren't interested in reading the preceding story, drop me a PM and I will give you a cliff-notes version of Going It Alone to enable you to read this story without too much confusion. If you read the GIA epilogue, you will recognize the opener to this chapter. Repetition is no fun, so skip down to the first page break and that will be where the new material starts.

Thanks go to Gredelina1 for all her help getting this chapter to a readable standard. If any mistakes remain, they're down to my tweaking.

Chapter One

Sam braced himself for the pain to come again, but there was nothing. That was wrong. There was always pain. When the reprieve from the physical came, it would be emotional. He preferred the physical. When your flesh was being flensed from your bones, you knew what to expect. When they were wearing the faces of people Sam loved, it was harder. They said things and did things that burned Sam more than the hot pokers and knives that they used.

He thought perhaps it was time for her to come again, to make her offer, but she didn't come.

Confused, he opened his eyes. There was nothing but darkness. Not even a sliver of light came to him. The air felt different though. It was musty and as he breathed it in, he realized how shallow it was.

His breath came in a rasp and he coughed. "Hello. Is someone there?"

There was no response, not that he expected one. This had to be their new torment, and they wouldn't spoil it by alerting him to where he was. He reached out with his other senses to try to make sense of his surroundings. He was laying on something hard and his hands were laid over his chest. With careful movements, he flexed his fingers and found that he had movement. He shrugged his shoulders and realized movement was limited.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, both drawing air into his strained lungs and searching for more clues to his location. He could smell wood and earth and something unpleasant. He didn't want to think about that smell. It couldn't lead anywhere good. His hands lifted and he felt around him. He was inside a wooden box; he could feel the rough grain against his skin.

He drew a shaky breath and understanding dawned. He was in a coffin.

Of all the torments Lilith and her cronies had put him through, this had to be the worst. They were twisted and cruel. He knew what he was supposed to think, that he'd been saved, and as soon as the relief had sunk in, they would tear back the curtain, and he would be on the rack. His lungs began to burn from the thin air, and though his knew it was an illusion, he didn't need air in Hell, he knew he had to do something about it; he had to get free.

Crying internally, he fisted his hand and punched at the wooden ceiling of his prison. A trickle of dirt slipped down over him and he whimpered. He was going to have to dig his way out. He would have given anything in that moment to be under the knife again. Anything was better than this.

Need overcame horror and he began to pummel the ceiling, sending dirt spewing down over his face and body. He spat, clearing his mouth, and pushed harder.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he made progress upwards. His lungs had long since run out of air and he was fighting with a swimming head to stay conscious as he grappled with the dirt. Then, with a rush of relief, his hands broke the surface. He forced them sideways, dragging himself out of the hole with tremendous effort. As his face met the cool air, he drew a shuddering breath of fresh air.

He had a moment's heady relief, and then he was petrified again. There was so much noise. He had to get away from it. He could hear laughter and voices, and he knew it was the demons coming for him again. He struggled to his feet and looked around. The place was familiar, but his mind refused to present him with the name of his location, it was busy fighting outright panic. He saw a large shadow looming over him in the darkness and he made his way towards it.

He found himself in a musty smelling room. There was no light inside, but he preferred the inky darkness. He pulled the door closed behind him and the sound of the demon's voices and laughter was muted. He breathed a sigh of relief. It would take them time to find him here. He could hide a while away from the knives and heat and pain.

He could rest.

"We'll be right there," Bobby said quietly. He set the phone down and rubbed a hand over his face. He still looked pale and his hands were a little shaky.

"Bobby, what is it?" he asked.

Bobby started, as if just noticing Dean was still there. He spoke in a whisper. "It's Sam. He's…" He gulped. "He's back."

Their situation was dire. Lucifer had just been freed and the world was going to pay the price. Dean knew all of that, and yet he couldn't help but feel a rush of joy as Bobby's words sank in. Sam was back. Sam, his Sammy, had come back.

The weight of the last ten months of pain and longing slipped from his shoulders, making him feel lighter than air. It was a tangible thing, the relief. Sam was back. Whatever was happening to the world now, and it was sure to be bad, Dean could handle it, as he would have his brother beside him. There was nothing they couldn't do when they were together.

Contrary to Dean's elation, Bobby still looked pale and shaky. Dean guessed it was a shock, he felt a little shaky too as the adrenaline coursed through him, but Bobby looked sad too, and that made no sense.

"What's wrong?" he asked, unable to keep the smile from his face. "Sam's back, right?"

Bobby shook his head slowly. "It's not Sam, Dean, not our Sam. It's gotta be the demon part of him."

Dean drew in a sharp breath as the weight crashed down over him again. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the shock before he spoke so his horror wouldn't be so obvious. It was pointless trying to hide it from Bobby; he knew Dean well, second only to Sam, and he would see it all regardless. But Dean was proud. He didn't want to show that his heart was breaking.

"You really think so?"

Bobby looked solemn. "I do. Alastair said it, and so did Crowley and Lilith. Sam's a demon now."

"But demons lie," Dean said in a small voice.

"They do, but only when a lie will hurt more than the truth." There was a little too much understanding in Bobby's tone for Dean's liking. "Lilith didn't offer you Sam to stand down from the apocalypse. If there's a surefire way to get you to do something stupid, it's to bring Sam into it, but she didn't even bother. I think she was telling the truth. The Sam we knew is gone. We've got to face that before we go anywhere, or we'll be walking into a trap."

Dean was sure Bobby was right, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. He wanted to believe his brother was back, as that made it easier for him to handle what he'd just done. He was trying with everything he had not to think about it, but the truth nagged at him anyway. He'd done it, he'd doomed the world, and his brother wasn't there to help him pick up the pieces.

"What exactly did Ellen say?" he asked.

Bobby tugged off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "She was in a real mess. She just kept saying he was back. I think it's safe to assume he's done something to her or Jo, as Ellen isn't a woman easily rattled. I think we need to go into this expecting a trap."

"You think Sam's trying to trap us?"

"I think he'll be trying to trap you. Even if he doesn't remember his human life, you've got to be top of the demons' hit list given that you've just killed their big boss. An easy way to get to you is to go after your friends. I'm the obvious target, but this place is as well protected from demons as I can make it, so they've gone for…"

"Ellen and Jo," Dean finished for him. He pulled out Ruby's knife from his inside pocket and checked the colt was still loaded.

Bobby gaped at him. "You planning on killing him?"

"No!" Dean said brutally. "And I'll kill anyone else that tries. I am taking these for any backup he may have brought with him."

Bobby held his hands up. "Okay. No need to tell me. I don't want to hurt him anymore that you do. I'm just thinking, if we are walking into a trap, and he's hurt Ellen and Jo, how are we going to take him out?"

Dean didn't know. His brother was smart and he had a hunter's mind. Add to that a demon power-up and they were walking into a nightmare. He couldn't let Bobby go into this thinking killing Sam was an option though. That would never be an option.

"We've got to get out of here," he said. They had already wasted enough time talking. Even now, Sam could be hurting Ellen and Jo.

Bobby nodded and made for the door. Dean followed him out and unlocked the Impala. They climbed in and Dean gunned the engine. The radio came to life, and Dean snapped it off. He didn't want music; he didn't want anything to make him feel good. After the disappointment he'd just experienced, there was no more good for him.

By the time they reached Bill's, light was creeping over the horizon, casting shadows across the gravel-topped parking lot. Dean parked beside Jo's car and climbed out. Lights were still burning in the windows of the bar, and Dean guessed that was where Sam and his victims were holed up. The thought that Sam even had victims was abhorrent, but Dean had to face it; this wasn't his Sam.

He opened the trunk and stowed a flask of holy water into his pocket. Bobby grabbed one too and a knife. Dean looked at him darkly.

"I'm not planning on hurting him," Bobby said defensively.

"Then what's with the knife?"

"I feel naked without a weapon."

Dean nodded and slammed the trunk. With light footsteps, he made his way around to the window of the bar. The glass was coated with dust, and he couldn't get a good look inside. He'd hoped that they would be able to get a glimpse of what they were facing, but it was impossible.

He plodded over to the door and hammered once on the wood. "It's us."

The bolts disengaged and the door opened a crack. Bracing himself for a first glimpse at his demonic brother, Dean waited. But it was Jo who stepped into the light. Dean was transported back through the months to the last time he was met with this scene, soon after his own resurrection. He had been filled with hope that day, ready to see his brother again, now he felt no happiness, only a sense of heavy responsibility for what had happened. It was all his fault after all. He had been the one Sam made the deal for. He should have done a better job preparing Sam for his death, then Sam would have been able to leave him in the pit. So much could have been avoided. Sam wouldn't have made his deal. Dean would have stayed in the pit. Sam wouldn't have become a demon, and Lucifer would have remained in his cage. However you came at it, this was all Dean's fault.

Jo stepped back and Dean pushed past her into the bar. He pulled the colt out of his pocket and raised it, pointing it into the corners of the room, searching for his brother, but there was no one there but Ellen sitting at a table.

As she caught sight of Dean, she jumped to her feet. "What are you doing?"

"Where is he?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

Ellen looked at him blankly. "I don't know. Now, put that damn gun down before you hurt someone."

Dean lowered the gun and then raised it again. Ellen was too calm. Holding the gun steady in his hand, he pulled out the flask of holy water and held it out to her. "Take a belt of this."

"Have you lost your mind?" Jo asked shrilly.

"You too, Jo," Bobby said from behind him.

Ellen stepped forward slowly and took the flask. She uncapped it and raised it to her mouth. Dean waited, tensed for the reaction, but none came. She took a deep swig of the water and then capped the bottle again.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"Jo's clean too," Bobby said, coming to stand beside him.

"Of course we are," Ellen said. "Now, you want to explain why you think we're demons?"

"We had to be sure," Bobby said. "Sam could have…" He trailed off.

"Why do I get the feeling we're missing something?" Ellen asked.

Dean stowed the gun back down the back of his pants and raked a hand through his hair. Nothing here made sense. If Ellen had seen the demon Sam, she would know why they needed to test them, which meant something else was happening here. Had Sam pretended to be human for them? Why would he do that?

"You're not the only one," Bobby said. "You called me saying Sam's back. Did you see him?"

Ellen shook her head. "No, we only saw his grave." When Dean and Bobby looked at her blankly, she continued. "It's been chewed up."

Dean strode past Ellen and out into the kitchen. Taking a deep breath in hopes of preparing himself for what he was about to see, he threw open the door and stepped outside. His eyes immediately found the grave, and his heart sank and what he saw. He had seen a similar sight before, ten months ago, after he'd dug his way out. The earth was disturbed and there was a hole, just wide enough for a man to have clawed his way out.

"Awww, hell," Bobby said from behind him.

Dean turned away from the grave and looked at Bobby. "I don't understand." Though he tried to quash it, he felt an inkling of hope again. A demon wouldn't have wanted Sam's body, would it?

Bobby shook his head. "It's the demon. The demons have hooked Sam up with his old meat suit."

"Why would they do that?"

"To screw with your head. To make it harder for you to kill him." Bobby shrugged. "Maybe he's nostalgic now."

"Wait!" Ellen said harshly. "Are you saying Sam's a demon?"

Dean cast his eyes downward and she took her answer from his silence.

Ellen shook her head jerkily. "No, he can't be. That takes centuries; Sam was only gone ten months."

"Hell time's different. For us it was ten months, for Sam it was a century. And according to the demons, Sam had something of a head start."

Ellen looked confused, but Bobby didn't elucidate. Dean was grateful. He didn't want Ellen and Jo judging Sam for the demon blood that had run through his veins. It hadn't been his fault. They remembered Sam as he had been, pure and human, and Dean didn't want that changing.

Jo looked sickened. "Sam's a demon. That's just…"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "It's screwed to hell."

"So, you're telling me Sam's running around somewhere with black eyes?" Ellen asked. She didn't seem able to grasp the truth.

Bobby nodded. "According to some heavy hitting demons, yeah. He's been back a few months."

"And you didn't tell us!" Ellen snapped.

Dean raised haunted eyes to look at her. "Would you have told us if it was Jo? We couldn't have anyone know, as they'd hunt him."

"With good reason," Ellen said. "What are you planning to do with him?"

"We're going to take him back to Bobby's and keep him in the panic room."

"You're going to trap a demon," Ellen said incredulously, "and keep it hostage? Have you lost your damn minds?"

Dean's jaw clenched. She didn't understand. They couldn't kill him. It was Sam. It didn't matter that he was a demon now; that wasn't his fault. He was still Dean's brother and he wasn't about to see him dead, not again.

"It's the only way," Bobby said doggedly. "It'll keep him safe and it'll keep others safe from him."

Ellen pushed back her hair and huffed out a breath. "Okay. What can we do to help?"

"We've got to find him," Dean said. "How long has he been out?"

"I got back just after midnight," Jo said. "And it looked like this then. He was still… in there… yesterday. I came out before I left."

Dean checked his watch. "Okay, that gives him a couple hours head start. I figure we should split up and start with the roads. It's late so it's unlikely he found someone to hitch with. He might be holed up somewhere close."

Bobby cleared his throat. "We don't need to search, Dean. We've got everything back at the house we need to find him."

Dean looked at him blankly.

"He's a demon now. We can summon him like we did Ruby, or we can use the scry to find where he is. The panic room is still set up for interrogating demons. It's got everything we need in there to keep him safe."

Dean hated the thought, the reminder that his brother could be found with these tricks because he wasn't human anymore. He forced away his discomfort and concentrated on what Bobby was telling him. They could find Sam. That was what was important.

"Okay," he said. "We'll go back to yours and…" He trailed off as a sound reached him. It was the sound of metal scraping against metal. "Does anyone else hear that?" he asked.

"It coming from the shed," Jo said.

"Probably another 'coon," Ellen said dismissively.

Dean didn't think so. He had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. Could Sam have been there the whole time, listening to their conversation and waiting for the right moment to strike? Was it possible that he was mere feet away this whole time?

Dean and Bobby exchanged a dark look and Dean knew Bobby was thinking the exact same thing as him. He pressed a finger to his lips to instruct the others to stay silent. Pulling the colt out of the back of his pants, he crept across the grass towards the shed door. He wouldn't shoot Sam, but he would use to the gun to control him. Even if Sam didn't remember his human life, he would surely have heard of the colt. If they could just get him out into the open, Bobby and Dean could restrain him until they had him in the boot of the car. How they would get him from the car to the panic room, Dean didn't know. Perhaps Anna would be amenable to helping them out.

He eased open the shed door and looked inside. There were no windows, but the dim dawn light from outside illuminated the shadowy outline of someone standing in the corner. Dean couldn't see his face, but he knew that tall form anywhere. It was Sam.

He didn't think. The fact that this was a demon now didn't occur to him at all. All that mattered was that it was Sam and he was back. He spoke in a whisper. "Sammy?"

In response, there was a snarling sound and the shadow lurched towards him.

Sam stayed cowering in his hiding place as the demon's voices and laughter faded. He allowed himself to hope that he had evaded them for a while when he heard something new. It was a gasp of shock followed by a shouting voice.

"Mom! Get out here!"

"What's… My god."

What stunned Sam was that he recognized the voices. It was Ellen and Jo. This was new. The demons had never used them to taunt Sam before. It was always Dean and Bobby.

"What happened?" Ellen asked.

"I just found it like this. We have to call Dean."

Dean was coming! That was both a disappointment and relief. He knew what to expect from the demon-Dean. It was always the same accusations and remonstrations. He would lay blame at Sam's feet for sending him to Hell and would accuse of not caring about him, for not saving him sooner. It was painful but familiar.

He heard the sound of dialing and a moment later, Ellen spoke in a rushed voice. "Bobby, you have to come!" There was a pause and then she said, "Sam's back! He's back. Bobby" Sam's back!"

So, that was their plan. Sam was supposed to believe he'd been saved. He had to give them credit. It was a masterful plan. It would have been torturous for him to believe it only to learn the truth, but he wasn't fooled. They could say what they wanted, but he wouldn't believe them; demons lied.

He scrunched himself further into the corner of his hiding place and waited.

It could have been weeks later, it could have been minutes, before he heard voices again.

"Awww, hell." That was Bobby's voice. He recognized it instantly.

Then came another voice, a voice that made him ache with its familiarity. It was Dean. He didn't listen to what the voice was saying, he'd heard it all before, he just listened to the way it rose and fell, sounding so much like the real Dean.

The other voices came and went, but Sam listened for Dean's. He knew it was stupid, the demons would find him if he made a sound, but he crept forward slowly until his ear was against the door.

He could hear them clearly now, and he heard Bobby as he said, "The panic room is still set up for interrogating demons. It's got everything we need in there to keep him safe."

What was the panic room? And what did it have to do with Sam? Was this a new torture they'd devised for him? Sam skittered back to his corner, brushing against something as he did. The sound of metal scraping against metal sounded too loud in the enclosed space, and Sam held his breath, praying that they wouldn't hear.

It was too late, they'd heard. He heard them discussing the sound and then there was light at the door.

Sam scrunched back into the corner and waited for the hands to grab at him, twisting and burning the way demons did, but it didn't come. Instead, there was a shadowy figure in the light, and a voice spoke to him. "Sammy?"

That was it. It was too much. One person called him that, and it wasn't this black-eyed bastard.

Sam lurched forward, snarling deep in his throat, with his hands outstretched.

Dean's breath huffed out of him in a whoosh as weight collided with him. For a delirious moment, he thought Sam was embracing him, but as the figure plowed into him, knocking him to the ground, he realized this wasn't an embrace; it was an attack.

Stunned, he let himself fall back to the ground without resistance. He was still trying to make sense of what was happening when Sam drew back a fist and cracked him across the cheek. His head snapped to the side and he felt his cheek grind against his teeth.

Sam straddled him, pinning him down with his knees on Dean's shoulders. Even if he had the will to fight him off, he wouldn't have been able to. Sam was just too strong. Sam drew back his fist again and landed a hard punch on his jaw.

Dean heard voices shouting and he saw Bobby appear behind Sam, trying to drag him away, but Sam shoved him away and he fell back to the ground.

Jo was screaming and Ellen was helping Bobby to his feet and still Sam beat down on Dean. He tried to catch his fists, to stop the onslaught, but Sam dodged him.

Dean looked up into his brother's eyes and saw pure hatred there. They weren't black, but that made it harder. He still looked so much like Dean's Sam. He would rather have been looking into the onyx black that showed Sam's demonic side.

Dean had never seen Sam so angry; not when arguing with his father the night he'd left for Stanford, not even faced with the Trickster that had made him experience Dean's death over and over again, not even when he faced Azazel. Sam had never hated anyone as much as he now hated Dean. He couldn't bear it. Part of him wanted Sam to land a blow that would knock him unconscious so that he wouldn't have to face that truth.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Bobby draw back a foot and kick Sam hard in the chest. Sam tumbled back, freeing Dean. He remained on the floor, panting for breath, until Bobby's voice cut through the sound of struggles and wordless snarls from Sam.

"A little help here, Dean!"

Dean struggled to his feet and looked over at Bobby. Sam was pinned on the floor with Bobby's knee pressing into his back. Ellen was holding the back of Sam's head, pressing it down into the dirty ground. Sam was breathing heavily through his mouth in the human equivalent of a growl.

"What the hell are we going to do with him?" Bobby panted.

"Devil's trap," Jo said. "Mom's got on laid down under the rug in the kitchen."

Sam bucked under Bobby's grip and almost dislodged him. Dean hurried to his side, adding his own weight to Sam's back. He felt sickened by what he was doing, holding his brother down like an animal, but that was how he was behaving.

"Hurry," Bobby said breathlessly.

Jo darted into the house and Dean heard the grinding of the table against the floor. After a minute, she came to the kitchen door. "It's ready."

Gripping Sam's wrists, Bobby dragged them round so they were pinned behind his back. Sam struggled once more and then seemed to become boneless. He lay on the ground, with his arms twisted in a half-nelson and his face pressed against the muddy earth.

Slowly, expecting him to come back to life at any minute, Dean released his weight from Sam's back and helped Bobby drag him up. If Sam had been human, it would have been excruciatingly painful for him to he held as he was, but the demon didn't even flinch.

Jo had set a chair in the centre of the devil's trap, and Dean and Bobby dragged Sam to it and forced him down. Though he didn't struggle, it was still hard to maneuver him, as he seemed to have become as stiff as a statue.

"Get something to tie him up!" Bobby commanded and Ellen disappeared to the shed for a moment, coming back with a thick coil of rope.

Dean and Bobby held Sam in place while Ellen and Jo coiled the rope around his chest, binding him to the chair. Throughout it all, Sam didn't move; he just stared out ahead of him as if they were all below his notice.

When they stepped back, Dean waited for Sam to move, but he remained still. Looking across the room.

"I don't know about you," Bobby said. "But I need a drink."

Ellen nodded and Bobby and Jo followed her into the bar.

"You coming, Dean?" Bobby asked, pausing at the door.

Dean shook his head. "Someone should stay with him."

Bobby nodded and disappeared, and Dean and Sam were left alone.

Dean looked down at his brother and took in the familiar features. His shaggy hair was tangled from the melee and streaked with mud, as was his face. His face, that was usually so animated with whatever emotion he was feeling at the time, was blank and indifferent. It was all Sam but not really.

Dean swallowed thickly. "Sam, I don't know if there is any part of you that cares anymore, but I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I never meant for this to happen. I thought I was saving you making that deal. If I could do it all again…" He couldn't finish. A lump had formed in his throat, blocking his words.

If he could do it all again, he would have left Sam dead after Jake had stabbed him. He would have left Sam in Heaven rather than dragging him back to this nightmare of a world. It wasn't for himself that he would do it, he didn't care about going to Hell, his brother was worth the sacrifice, it was to protect Sam from becoming this thing. His brother's soul should be at peace now, rather than becoming this twisted and corrupted thing.

In response to Dean's outpouring of guilt, Sam bowed his head and looked down at his knees. It was as if Dean's words were beneath his notice, as if Dean himself was.

There was movement at the door and Dean turned to see Ellen and Bobby coming into the room.

"Take a break," Bobby said. "Jo could probably use someone to talk to."

Glad of an excuse to get away from Sam for a minute, Dean left the room and walked into the bar. Jo was sitting at a table with a bottle of beer open in front of her. Her elbows were resting on the table and her face was in her hands. As Dean drew closer, he saw that her shoulders were shaking.

"Jo?"

In response, she raised her head and looked up at him with a tear-streaked face. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean frowned. If there was anyone here without reason to apologize, it was Jo. She and Ellen were guiltless in this disaster. The blame was all to be laid at Dean and Bobby's feet, and Bobby even less than Dean. This whole mess was Dean's fault. He had set this ball rolling with his deal.

"I should have stopped him," Jo said in a choked voice.

Dean sat down opposite her and rested his head in his hands. "You didn't know, Jo. None of us knew this would happen."

She shook her head. "We should have known. We're hunters. We should have told Bobby he was here. We should have stopped him going to the crossroads. If he hadn't made his deal…"

Dean shook his head. "It's not your fault. Sam was determined, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"I just… I can't believe that's Sam in there. He's almost feral."

"Yeah, it takes some time to wrap your head around it; I know that better than anyone. It's what demons are though, animals. It kills me that Sam is one of them now."

"After you died," Jo began. "He was broken. His was in so much pain you could see it in his eyes. Everything in him hurt, but he would still try. He would ask me about my hunts and sometimes he would smile. You always knew he was forcing it, but he did it for us. I can't believe the man that did all that for us is tied to a chair in our kitchen now. It seems impossible."

Dean knew what she meant. He had a lifetime of memories of Sam, he had practically raised him, but the man he'd known was gone and this monster was left behind. It was physically painful for him to admit it, but it was the truth. His Sam was gone and there was no getting him back. There was no way to cure a demon.

There was movement at the door and Bobby peered in. "Dean, you got a minute?"

Jo got to her feet. "I'll go wait with Mom and… him."

When she was gone, Bobby turned to Dean and asked, "What do you want to do, Dean?"

That was a loaded question, Dean thought. What he wanted to do more than anything was to climb into the car and drive away from this place and that thing in the kitchen. He couldn't look into his brother's face and see the loathing there. He couldn't bear it.

"I don't know," he said miserably.

"I hate to say it, but I don't think our plan to get him into the panic room is going to cut it. You saw him in there, he's wild, and I can't…" Bobby faltered then took a deep breath. "I can't spend the rest of my life looking at him like that. It's so wrong. It's Sam but not, and the way he looks at us…"

"I feel the same, but I don't know what else to do."

Bobby looked apologetic. "We've got the knife."

Dean shook his head jerkily. "I can't do that, Bobby. I can't kill him."

"We could exorcise him. Send him back where he came from. "

The idea appealed to Dean. At least that way Sam's body would be at peace, even if his soul wasn't. It was the best of a hellish situation. He couldn't do anything to help his brother, not anymore, but he could ensure that part of him was unsullied. They could protect Sam's body from further possession with devil's traps.

"We have to," he said. "I can't have it walking around in Sam's body. I want at least part of him to be at peace."

Bobby nodded understandingly. "We can at least do that much for him."

"Just give me a minute," Dean said. He walked out to the car and leaned against the hood for a moment. He knew he needed to go back inside and face his brother again, but he needed to brace himself first. He stared up at the sky and thought of the dreams of Sam he'd had. He would never have that comfort again. He would never be able to see his brother as human again, not now he'd seen the demon.

He trudged back into the kitchen and took in the sight before him. Sam was sitting motionless in the chair with his chin still resting on his chest. Ellen and Jo were standing against the counter. Jo was leaning her head on her mother's shoulder and Bobby was standing behind Sam. Dean guessed it was easier for him when he didn't have to look Sam in the eye.

Bobby looked at him. "You ready for this?"

"Sooner the better," Dean said firmly.

Neither Ellen nor Jo asked what they were talking about, which made Dean sure Bobby had explained to them what was going to happen.

Bobby began to chant the Latin needed to exorcise the demon from Sam's body, and Dean paid attention to the words, trying to block other thoughts from his mind.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus."

They would need to get another coffin and bar it against demons.

"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

Maybe they should move Sam's grave, too. He had been violated here. They could take it to Bobby's property so he would be close enough for them to keep an eye on him.

"Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus."

Dean braced himself, ready to see the smoke that was his brother's tortured and corrupted soul leaving his body.

Bobby took a deep breath. "Audi nos."

Goodbye, Sam.

Dean held his breath, waiting, but nothing happened. Sam remained still and silent in his chair.

"Did you say it wrong?" he asked.

Bobby shook his head. "No, I've said that exorcism more times than I can count. It was perfect, every word of it."

"You think he locked himself in?"

Bobby sighed. "I guess he must have."

Stepping forward gingerly, Dean reached out and touched his brother's arm, prepared to jump back at any moment, but Sam didn't move a muscle. He stayed silent and still. Dean lifted his arm and shoved back the sleeve. There was no mark on his wrist, not even the mottled scar that used to be there from the last time Sam'd been possessed—when Bobby had burned away the mark with a red-hot poker. He checked the other wrist, but it was just as clear. Now Dean was looking carefully, he noticed that all Sam's visible scars were gone. He wiped the dirt away from Sam's knuckles and saw the skin, previously scarred and mottled from fights, was smooth. The previously crooked fingers, from the time Dean had accidentally shut Sam's hand in the Impala's door when they were children, were straight.

"Scissors," he snapped, turning to Ellen.

She rooted in a drawer and handed him a large pair.

Still wary of Sam playing possum, Dean stepped behind him and cut down the middle of the shirt Sam had been buried in. He shoved it away from his shoulders and stepped back hurriedly, staring in shock at his brother's left upper arm. There was a raised mark there, like a burn, in the perfect shape of a hand.

"What is that?" he breathed.

"Dean…" Bobby sounded stunned. "Look at this."

"I'm looking, Bobby," Dean said, his eyes not moving from the burn on Sam's arm.

"No, Dean, look at this."

Dean stepped around the devil's trap and came to a standstill in front of Sam. His shirt had fallen down his arms, baring his upper chest to their eyes. Dean looked for what could be making Bobby sound so stunned, but other than the absence of scars, there was nothing different to see.

"His tattoo," Bobby said. "Look at it."

Dean looked, his brow furrowed with confusion. "I see it. It's…" He trailed off as understanding dawned. His tattoo was there, intact. His anti possession tattoo, the thing that stopped him being possessed by a demon, was still there.

"My god…" he said in a whisper.

There was a rustling sound behind them but Dean didn't turn. He was transfixed by his brother.

"How can it be there?" he asked. "It's not possible, unless we're wrong."

"But…He…How?" Bobby seemed incapable of forming a sentence.

"You are wrong," Anna stepped into view, walking into the devil's trap and laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. "This is not a demon."

Sooo… that's one question answered for you. I know a couple of you were leery of reading a Demon!Sam story, and I am sorry for the misdirection in Going It Alone, but it was just the way the story evolved.

I was blessed with some wonderful readers and reviewers in Going It Alone and I sincerely hope they have followed Sam and Dean here again. If you did enjoy the chapter, please take a moment to leave a review. It means more to me than I can say to know people are enjoying what I write, and I love chatting with you all.

Until next time, take care.

Clowns or Midgets xxx