I own nothing. Sorry for all the mistakes. And spoilers for… what? S4? Yup.

I'm cleaning up my computer and that means finishing up some stories that should've been finished like... ages ago.

Enjoy.

There's fuckin' demon blood in him.

It's in him.

In him.

He's fuckin' swimming in it. He's drowning in it. He's choking on it.

It's in his veins, running there like it fuckin' belongs there, like it has any right to be there. It's touching every part of him, every part of his body... everywhere on the inside and sometimes even on the outside.

It's everywhere. Everywhere where it shouldn't be.

When he bleeds – when he gets shot, stabbed, cut, nicked, scratched - he's not bleeding his own blood, he's not bleeding his family's blood.

He's not bleeding the same blood his brother is.

Not since he was six months old.

He only had six fuckin' months of his own blood running in his veins, of his mother's blood, of his father's blood, of his brother's blood. Six months.

And then?

Then he had demon blood in him.

-:-

Sometimes when he looks at the blood left on a towel he or his brother used to slow any kinda bleeding he had, it's not his blood he sees there.

When his fingers're sticky with it whenever he sews himself up, it's not his blood that he feels there.

When he's lost in the haze of whatever medicine his brother gives him for the pain, it's not his blood that he smells then.

It's not.

He pretends that it is, but it's really not.

Not since he was six months old.

-:-

He turns to his left and drags the blanket with him. Dean's back's to him. Rising up and down slowly... his brother's asleep. It took some time for him to fall asleep but with the help of Mr. Whiskey and Mr. Beer, he was out like a light at around three in the morning.

Finally.

He whispers: "Dean?"

His brother snores on.

-:-

Sam's heart's loud in his ear; it's like a roar he can't silence no matter how hard he tries to calm himself down and breathe and concentrate on Dean and his snoring.

His heart, the thing that keeps on pumping that goddamned demon blood all around his body... that damned thing.

He turns to his right. There's a window there. A truck passes by, headlights so bright in his eyes it stuns him for a second; stops his whole brain process until it jump starts again and makes him think again... about demon blood in his veins, touching him, changing him, making him be something he's not.

But was apparently meant to be from the moment he started to be a thought in his parent's minds.

-:-

He wishes another truck to pass by... just for a second, just for a little moment in endless time, just something that would distract him, stop his brain, stop him from thinking.

He wishes Dean had left him a beer.

-:-

His heart is loud in his ears; now he can feel the beat in his head, his stomach, his feet... he can't escape it. Can't... can't make it go away. Can't... this has been inside of him since he was six months old.

"I have demon blood in me, Dean. I'm a whole new level of freak!"

He sighs and turns on his back, lowers the blanket down to his hips and places his hand on his chest; palm down over his heart, pinky sliding up and down over the edge of his tattoo.

He can't escape it; best to just accept it. Let it be. Feel it. Don't fight it. Well, that's what Ruby tells him.

".. and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean!"

But he wants to, he wants to, God, he wants to.

His heart's beating faster, trying to get out of its cage... but it can't. He pushes his palm down a bit more, feels the bone there, wants to crush it into dust and rip out his heart, wants to bleed out the darkness that is in him.

The ceiling is yellow like a lemon. His brother's snoring and sweating out the beer. He can smell it in the air whenever Dean breathes out. He can taste it on his lips when he licks them.

He scratches just a little above his tattoo. Damn itch.

Dean mutters something in his sleep... unintelligible. Something that sounds like: "maliandhtgetche."

He smiles. Dean's crazy and drunk and will be a bitch to be around come mornin' because he'll be hungover, hungry and sleepy... and he'll want to go kill some sons of bitches. And all that before his mornin' coffee.

But Sam's ready for all that; he found 'em a case that's just begging for Dean to use his guns and knives. Maybe even his lighter.

His brother'll love that.

-:-

He sighs and gets up - because enough is enough - slowly, cringing when his knees pop when his feet hit the cool floor. He looks at his brother still sound asleep.

The blood in him is boiling, screaming for attention… I can help you become stronger, help you kill demons, Sam.

Help you help Dean.

When he closes the door, he's telling himself that he's doing this for Dean, he's doing this to stop Lilith, to stop the end of the world.

-:-

The air outside is stuffy, hot and humid and he can barely breathe with the phone so heavy in his hand and the dial tone so loud in his ear.

Silence.

"Ruby..."

"Sam..."

"Yeah..."

The End.