Reckless [Dean Winchester]

20. Lockdown

**Please be aware that there is a trigger-warning. This was not meant to be harmful in any way to my readers.**

20. Lockdown

I wonder if I'm dreaming.

This feels like one: me out of bed, roaming the bunker's halls. Something's up-why else would my shank be in my hand? I don't know what I'm searching for.

My eyes are oddly well-adjusted to the darkness. They search for a certain room, I'm not sure why. I'm not quite sure what direction I'm in right now. My feet are lithe as I pad down the hall on bare feet.

I peek through any opens doors until I find it. Truthfully, I've never been in Sam's room before. It has a feel of him, with a bookshelf and not much else aside from the basics of the bedroom. Why am I in here?

My feet are propelling me into the room like a jungle cat. Wait, wait, what's going on? Why am I heading for his bed? Why is my arm poised to strike? What the hell? I yell mentally for my body to stop. Nothing works. It's like it has its own mind now as it looms over Sam's sleeping form. My heart is racing.

I can't stop the shank from rising above him. This is some terrible nightmare I can't shake myself out of. I try again to stop this, or scream so Sam knows. But nothing happens, and I'm watching as the blade goes down for his throat.

In a motion too fast for me to comprehend, Sam is out of bed, pushing me full force into the bookshelf. It wobbles behind the weight of my back. I'm glad he noticed. Must be a sixth sense or something he learned from being a hunter.

"Max, you need to wake up," he urges. Somehow, with brute force, I force him stumbling back towards his bed. "This is real. You're gonna hurt someone."

"That's my intention." I don't speak those words, yet they come from my mouth. My voice is distorted into something sinister, something totally unrecognizable. "Too bad you're so attentive, Sammy boy. You took the easiness out of it." My mouth is pulled into a mock-pout. "But you just made this ten times more fun!"

With a cry that I didn't know I possessed, my body lunges for Sam, shank outstretched. Somehow, my body has learned some combat, because he and I engage. He tries to not hurt me seriously-I see the reluctance in his moves. I can't say the same for myself. I'm a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and slice attempts. I get him hard on a weak spot and send him down on his knees, but he somehow gets a moment of clarity before he knocks me into the wall.

Groaning and struggling to get on his feet, he barrels out of his room. I begin to pant heavily and feel the trickle of adrenaline. What the fuck? I'm truly confused. This isn't a dream, this is real. How is it that I can see all of this, but I have no control of anything?

I don't run after Sam; I take my precious time and stalk out of his bedroom. I look both ways before picking a direction. He probably ran off to tell Dean.

They'll both be in for a surprise, croons the voice.

Where the hell did you come from? I've never had a voice in my head.

I'm the reason behind all of this, sweet cheeks. You don't know me, but I sure know you now.

You're the reason I can't control this? I can only see through my eyes, but nothing else. I have no control of my movements, or my voice. It's like I'm under some mind control.

No, not mind control. Possession.

Possession? As in...?

Demon possession.