Born Under a Bad Sign

Sam opened his eyes suddenly. The sound of his phone buzzing next to his bed startled him. He groggily stretched out his long arms and grabbed the phone. He flipped it open and the bright light made him wince.

"Hello?" he heard how tired he sounded and glanced at the clock. "3:23" the clock read.

"Sam?" The voice at the other line said.

Sam recognized the voice and sat up quickly.

"Mrs. Moore?" It was Jessica's mother. He hadn't spoken to her since the night he left Stanford, the night Jessica died.

"Yes Sam, it's me. I apologize for calling you this late, but I was looking through Jessica's stuff from Stanford. I couldn't bring myself to look at them until now, but I found something for you."

Sam glanced to the bed opposite of him and saw Dean's arm swung over the side of the bed with his mouth gaping releasing a snore.

As Sam crawled out of the bed he spoke into the phone, much more awake than before.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Moore sighed. "It had your name on it, so I thought you should see it first. There's no hurry. I'm in our house in Texas right now, if you're close by."

Sam thought about where he was. He remembered the quaint little house Mrs. Moore was talking about. He also remembers passing it on the way to the job he and Dean had finished earlier that day. He just wouldn't bring himself to talk to her. Sam thought maybe now he should. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm really close actually. I could be there in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Sam, and it's good to hear from you, I know Jessica's death was as hard on you as it was on us. I look forward to seeing you."

"You too Mrs. Moore." He heard the line click and set the phone on the bedside table. He looked over at Dean and pondered whether he should tell Dean he was going out or not. Sam shook his head. Dean only met Jessica once and Sam figured Dean could use some rest. The job they had finished wasn't a hard one, but Sam didn't need to bother Dean with his personal life, his old life. And with that thought, he slipped out the door and quietly closed it behind him.

Sam pulled the "borrowed" car into the Moore's driveway. As he pulled the keys out, he leaned back for a minute, and stared at the house. For the longest time, Sam thought about how perfect the house would have been for his and Jessica's children to visit their grandparents. But that dream died in the fire, along with Jessica. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

He went up to the door about to ring the bell, but he hesitated. It was still early and he didn't want to risk waking anyone else. He settled for a quiet knock. He didn't have to wait long before Mrs. Moore opened the door.

She was wearing her pajamas and her eyes looked tired from lack of sleep. Sam looked into those eyes and saw Jessica. Whenever Sam told her how pretty her eyes were, she always said she got them from her mother, and Sam could see it now.

"Sam. I'm so glad you could come." She ushered him in and welcomed him with a hug. Sam hugged her back not only as a comfort for her loss, but because she was what Sam imagined as a mother.

"It's good to see you again Mrs. Moore." She released him from the hug and started to walk down to the basement. She motioned him to follow. She spoke as they trudged down the stairs.

"When Jessica-"she paused for a moment, as though she hated having to say the words, "died that night, they sent whatever remained after the fire, and although there wasn't much, I just wasn't ready. It seems silly doesn't it?"

Sam did his awkward half smile and shook his head. "I know how you felt." He said apologetically.

"I suppose you would know, considering it was your fault." She spat, her voice suddenly full of hate.

Sam's eyes widened and he cocked his head.

"Mrs. Moore, I don't under-" Sam was cut off as Mrs. Moore raised a hand and he was flung to the wall. His shoulder received most of the impact and he landed with a grunt.

"Well, getting you here was a hell of a lost easier than I thought. Just say one word about you precious little Jess and you'll come running. Good to know." Mrs. Moore smiled devilishly as Sam looked up at her. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed his shoulder and tried to stand. He was forced down again with a flick of her hand.

"What are you?" His voice was strained, but this time not because of tiredness.

Mrs. Moore smiled even bigger than before, yet it was not at all comforting.

"An old friend" she answered as she blinked, and black, soulless eyes were revealed below. Sam's eyes widened right before she hit him over the head and he sank to the ground.

Sam groaned as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. He tried to rub his head, but his arms refused the move. As he opened his eyes, he could see that his arms were handcuffed to a pole above his head. He blinked trying to take in his surroundings. He was in some kind of a barn, but it had been abandoned. Finding an old unused barn in Texas didn't seem like a hard thing to do. He closed his eyes again, trying to subdue the ache in his head. When he opened them again he could see was a figure standing before him.

He didn't recognize who it was. It was an average sized girl, but she looked like the kind of girl you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley. The girl had reddish hair and before Sam could determine the color of her eyes, they turned completely black. Sam's nose flared as he tried to look defiantly at his captor.

"Heya Sammy! Miss me?" The voice was shrill, but the tone was easily recognized.

"Meg." Sam spat out the name like a curse, which is what he want to do right now. What he really wanted was to scream out an exorcism. He had been meaning to memorize it, but of course (Winchester luck) he hadn't gotten to it yet.

Meg smiled down at him like a toy, ready to be played with. He didn't flinch.

"Where's Mrs. Moore?" Sam demanded.

Meg tilted her head as she continued to look down at him.

"Even when you're in a situation as crappy as this, you still put everyone else before you. That's so cute. It's so cute it almost makes me want to tell you where she is."

Sam glared at her, hate filling his eyes.

"Where is she?!" He asked more forcefully.

Meg giggled and placed her hand on his face. He tried to wrench out of her grip but she held on tightly, eyeing his lips.

"See? It's just adorable when you get all tough like that!" She leaned in close to him and he tried to back away, but she just moved closer. She forced her lips onto his and Sam closed his eyes. Meg pulled away from his lips, and then bent over to his ear. She smiled as Sam tried to wriggle away.

'Mrs. Moore is fine Sam. She doesn't even remember seeing you." She whispered, uncomfortably close to his ear. Sam let out a sigh of relief. He wouldn't cost the Moore's another family member.

"Well, I'm glad one thing made you happy because other than that, you don't have a lot to look forward to, Sammy!" She giggled excitedly.

"It's 'Sam'". He huffed.

Meg got down right in front of his face and chuckled.

"You won't be for long."

Sam tried to gasp as Meg kicked him in the stomach, but his face was greeted again with her fist.

He had begun coughing and breathing heavily as her blows kept landing on his face. His head fell; he was becoming too tired to hold it up any longer. Meg grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look up at her.

"That was for my brother. I'd call you s son of a bitch, but you're kind of an orphan now, aren't ya?" Meg teased.

Sam spat in her face, his saliva mixed with the blood from his mouth. She wiped it off, but her smirk stayed. Sam twitched as she pulled out a small knife from her jacket.

"And this-" she said as she swiped it at his arm, "is for sending me back to hell." Sam held back a groan, but a small whimper escaped his lips as she slowly stabbed it into his side. His breaths were shaky, but he refused to cry or beg.

Meg knew his tolerance for pain was high. She also knew that if she was going to possess him, he needed to be weak. Meg knew from the moment she met him, Sam was not weak. She wanted him and Dean to pay for what they did to her, and her family. She knew her dad would be pissed if he found out how she was hurting his little prodigy, but she was too pissed to care.

Meg figured she couldn't break Sam by torturing him, so she did it more for her own entertainment, reveling in how he tried to hold back the moans and whimpers.

He grunted as she slowly twisted the knife in his side, his teeth clenched shut. She swiftly yanked it out and he gasped suddenly, but instantly went silent again.

"Ya know, Sammy, if it was Dean in your place, there'd probably be a lot more smart-ass comments and name calling. Sure his banter is amusing, but I'd get real tired of it pretty fast. That's why I always liked you better."

She could feel his anger as she mentioned Dean, but his will was still too strong, so she couldn't have him yet. Meg knew she could break him; she just had to find the right buttons.

"Speaking of Dean, I wonder where he could be. Maybe he forgot about you Sam."

Sam looked up at her and his breathing intensified, with both anger, and a hint of fear. Meg smiled, she'd found her opening. She just had to break it open completely.

"Or maybe he didn't forget about you. Maybe he just got so tired of having to protect you that he's given up looking. I mean really Sammy, how many times have you been taken? It never happens to Dean. I'll bet it's because he's just so much stronger than you."

Sam turned his head away and tried to ignore it, but everything she said was exact thoughts he'd had before. Meg noticed how the hope wavered in his eyes. She bent over and leaned right into his ear and whispered.

"But I think the best possibility, is that he isn't coming because he thinks he's finally rid of the thing that killed his parents."

He lifted his head. He tried to look at her angrily, but instead it was a look of disbelief and confusion.

"If you were never born Sam, mommy and daddy would still be alive. Dean wouldn't have almost died in that car accident, and there sure as hell wouldn't be as many demons running around! Just look at the messes you make, Sammy! No matter how hard you try, everyone around you just keeps dying. And it's all-"she punched him in the face again, a small grunt escaping his mouth. "Your" she threw her fist into his stomach and he coughed the air out. "Fault." She plunged the knife into his arm, only this time he didn't hold back the cry. He shook heatedly and screamed at the pain, and frustration. Meg had broken him.

She strode over the fire poker she'd brought, and held it tightly and heated it with her mind.

"What are you doing?" Sam had tried to sound threatening, but his voice cracked as tears started to fill his eyes. Meg grinned as she heard how weak he was. She took the poker and began to burn it against his skin. Sam cried out at the pain and he had begun sweating feverishly at the heat.

"Oh, this?" Meg asked as she pressed harder into his arm. Sam screamed again. "This is just to make sure that once a demon enters your body, no little exorcism is gonna kick it out."

His eyes widened, but before he had time to panic, black smoke flew from the girl's body and surrounded him. He thrashed his arms at the pole, trying to pull away at the cuffs.

Sam felt the cloud enter his mouth, then his mind. He tried to fight it, but it shoved him to the back of his own head, quite literally. He was trapped inside his own body.

"Well this is new." Sam heard his own voice say. "You've got the cutest puppy dog eyes! You've also got delicate little hands!" Sam felt his mouth turn into a smirk.

"Let's see what I can do with them."