Here's Sam's POV, as promised! Enjoy...or cry...or both.

Four months.

Four months with coffee the only thing left to fuel my bloodstream, body weighed down with defeat and a fatigue only present in those who cannot shut their eyes for more than a few hours at a time. Rest wasn't in the cards for me, wasn't an option for as long as Dean's steady breathing was absent from the bed beside my own. His vacancy was a gaping hole, a pit of despair that I tried my damnedest not to fall into because he needed me. Needed me to find him and to fix this. Needed me to bring him home.

But still it took too goddamn long. Four months. Abaddon had been possessing my brother for four months by the time I caught up to them, somewhere in eastern Kansas. It had to be Kansas of all places.

And then he was there, right there in front of me, but I couldn't rejoice yet because he was still a prisoner, still trapped within his own skin. I knew instantly, there was no hint of my brother's presence in the vicious smile that pulled at his mouth when he saw me, nor in the voice that flowed from it.

"Heya Sammy," it said, that sickening grin still plastered onto the face I thought I knew so well. But she continued to grin, twisting my brother's features almost beyond recognition, letting black liquid smoke bleed into his brilliant green eyes as I watchedhim walk towards me.

"Dean?" I tried anyway, "Dean are you in there?"

I got a fist to the face for an answer. It sent me off my feet, though I had been expecting it. Dean (no, Abaddon) was upon me in seconds, his (her) blows coming faster than I could block. It was a sickening kind of symmetry. Each punch served as a searing reminder of a time when it had been my fists beating down upon my own brother. No control. No way to stop it. I knew what that felt like. And I had never wanted Dean to have to face this same torment.

"Oh Sam," she grinned, her black eyes glinting devilishly, "Dean's not available at the moment. Try again later."

I continued to scream his name anyway, needing him to know that I was here. Praying that there was still a part of him left to find. A swift kick to the gut left me reeling, gasping for air as I attempted to roll away from the next blow.

"Fight it Dean, you need to fight this!" I tried again, even as his strong arms lifted me back onto my knees, only to strike out again. Please come back to me.

And when I felt my jaw crack apart with the next few punches, it wasn't the physical pain that registered first. I lost my brother. I really lost him this time. Everything was numb and the world tilted and blurred before me, but I still managed to hold onto consciousness through determination alone. I wanted to be here until the end, just in case I was wrong and he wasn't gone yet. Because if there was one thing I knew, it was that Dean wouldn't give in. He wouldn't just lay down and die. He wouldn't. There had to be some part of my big brother still locked inside his own body, still fighting for control. And so I stayed awake and I tried to stay alive, did my best to block out the pain and keep my eyes open. Just in case Dean could still be reached. Still be saved. I had failed him so many times before, in so many ways. But I would not fail him now. Could not leave him to suffer this agony alone.

Dean's name was the only word I could remember how to say, so I forced it out again and again through cracked lips, spewing blood onto concrete, waiting for it all to be over. Instead, the blows stopped coming.

Dean's...Abaddon's hold on me was suddenly gone, his (her?) bloody knuckles loosening their grip on the collar of my shirt. I slumped to the ground, eyes still cracked open, never leaving my brother's face.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean said. Thank God. Thank God you came back to me. It was him, really him. I could tell even through the thick haze that clouded my thoughts, even through the muddy darkness that drove his face into the shadows. I could hear it in the way his voice cracked with raw emotion, regret. Guilt. I saw pain (and green, bright green) replace the deadness in his eyes, watched as my brother came back to me after four months of what I could only imagine to be worse than Hell. Even so, even through the array of emotions that flickered across his features, this was the response I had been praying for. My brother was here. My brother was still fighting for me.

"Dean?" I whispered, the sting of salted tears pooling onto bloody lips. "Knew you were still in there somewhere."

I smiled up at him. It was painful and lopsided considering my shattered jaw, blood caked into every line and crevice, but Dean still smiled back, his eyes brimming as he turned to reach for something I couldn't see. Oh please let that be the first aid kit. I need it right about now, I thought, mind still dazed.

It wasn't.

It was the Colt. The Colt I'd managed to finally get my hands on after weeks of searching, researching, not sleeping. The gun I had tracked down, knowing it was the only thing that would kill Abaddon once I'd forced her out of my brother's body. But only after she'd left his body. Only after...

"No Dean!" I screamed, watching helplessly from the ground as he raised the gun to his head, still smiling down at me. I tried to push past the darkness that still pulled firmly at the edges of my vision, struggling to stand, to stop him.

"Already dead, Sammy," he said, a lone tear escaping the eyes always so filled with life, with light. The eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners and told me everything would be okay, even if I knew it was a lie. And this. This was the worst lie he'd ever told.

The gunshot echoed out into the night, followed closely by my shattered screams.

Yup. So that's it. Thanks for reading, as always. Reviews are golden. Stay golden. All that good stuff.