**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.

I feel ill. How did a demon manage to nest inside of me? How long has it been in my body? How come nobody detected it?

But someone had: the familiar, Portia. She'd sensed something was off about me when we met. Had she sensed the demon inside me? Is that why she'd gotten such a weird vibe from me?

Suddenly, the lights cut off, an alarm goes off, and red paints the halls. The demon chuckles, warping even my laugh.

"Oh, so it's lockdown mode?" it trills. It readjusts the grip on my weapon. "Little Hunger Games action going on. At least you'll make it interesting." It stalks the halls and turns the corners. The alarm has stopped, but the red still glows heavy in the bunker. "Come on out, boys! I need a few volunteers to join the game!"

You sick bitch, get out of my body! Give it back to me!

Sorry, but I think it's time for me to have my fun.

I continue to hang in the backseat of my body as the demon slinks through the halls, a malicious smirk on its lips. I need to do something. What if Sam doesn't know I'm possessed? What if he thinks I'm sleepwalking? But he ran off, out of his room. He's got to know something's wrong. He's got to have run to Dean.

Those two won't do a damn thing, not as long as I'm housed in you, Maxi.

Are you behind my nightmares?

No, that's your own twisted mind. I sit back and dig through and see what I can find. I've even found the buried stuff.

The demon picks door locks and investigates various rooms, all coming up empty each time. At some point, it stomps its foot in irritation. I can feel its impatience growing. It paces faster down the halls now.

"Come out, come out, boys! Don't be cowards! It's no fun when it's just me playing!" it sings.

The demon and I are now in the library section of the bunker. It closes its eyes, and we're both in the dark. Its shoulders slump. It's waiting, waiting for a brother or two to show up.

In a flash, the red light comes back into view, the demon swings around and is met with Dean Winchester. I cheer mentally, as that's the only thing I can really do right now. The demon takes a swing at Dean, who jumps back, his own knife at his side.

"Easy, Max, easy," he tells us softly. "You gotta wake up now. It's a dream. Nothing's out to get you. You're safe here."

The demon doesn't say a word, it retaliates. It dodges the knife Dean's got, and it roars in pain when he gets a thin slice in on the cheek. It steps back and touches the line, the fingers are tainted with blood. The demon snarls and meets Dean's attack. I'm rooting for Dean.

I need to get a word in.

Not on my watch. You just keep quiet like the hopeless woman you are. I'll let them figure it out after they've killed you.

So you want them to kill you along with me?

I'm reckless, what can I say? We're one in the same, Max. We're reckless.

I am nothing like you.

So you say.

With a hand out, the demon sends Dean into the wall. I cringe mentally. He gets to his feet, and realization crosses his face. He knows. He has to know!

"All right, it's gonna be one of these times," he snarls. He takes off down the halls, and the demon is in hot pursuit.

Somehow, my legs are built with super speed, because I'm catching up to Dean, something I didn't think was possible. Each time the demon gets close, Dean takes a swing. The demon jumps back, putting the gap between them. Come on, Dean. Free me!

Enough out of you! You can't do a damn thing, Maxi!

Would you stop with that damn nickname?!

Oh, I love it when you get all pissy!

The demon's hot pursuit comes to an abrupt halt as it hits an invisible barrier. It screams in outrage, trying to move forward. It can't. It keeps hitting the barrier every time. Dean is a distance away, watching carefully. The demon spins around and tries to run in the opposite direction. Again, it hits a barrier. Then its eyes downcast to the floor.

"No!" it screeches. Our feet are standing on some sort of symbol. Whatever it is, it's preventing the demon from moving.

"A rookie mistake," says Dean, arms crossed. The knife is still in one hand. "Any demon should know better than to watch where they step."

"You asshole!"

"I don't think you're in a position to be flinging insults." He steps forward. "You and I are gonna have a nice chat."

The demon breathes heavily, I can feel the anger boiling. "What do you wanna know?"

"Is this really you, Max?"

No, it's not!

"Yeah, it is." It snorts. "Should it really come as a surprise to you?"

"Nothing really should anymore at this point. So who are you really, Max?"

"Just your average demon who wants a shot at killing the infamous Winchesters." It smiles broodingly. "It's every demon's dream. It almost feels like an honor to be living with you."

You son of a bitch! SHUT UP!

ENOUGH! YOU KEEP QUIET!

I can see the hurt in Dean's stature. He actually believes this bullshit. He believes that I am the demon. I have to prove him wrong, I need to break through.

Too damn bad. I'm in control now. Just watch the show.

"So which poor chick did you choose? She already dead?"

No, I'm not!

"Oh, yeah, been dead for quite some time. She was the perfect candidate with the perfect plan. I try and steal your precious car, and we meet." It sighs dreamily.

"Dean!"

The demon turns to see Sam is on the other end. "Hello again, Sammy boy. Did you miss me?"

"We've been tricked, Sammy," says Dean. "Turns out Max isn't really who she says she is."

Yes, I am, you nitwit!

"What?"

"Oh, yeah, believe it, Sam!" the demon says hysterically. "Your little stray is a demon! Betcha didn't see that coming."

"No."

"No what?"

"Dean, this isn't Max."

"Well, of course it's not Max, Sam!" he groans.

"No, I mean it's not Max. Max isn't the demon!"

The demon cocks its head. "Interesting theory, but a wrong one. Come on, boys, grow a pair so we can end this like real people!" It turns back to Dean. "Unless you don't have the guts to."

"How could this have slipped past us?" Dean hisses.

"It's simple. I'm smarter than-"

"That is enough!"

It's not Dean or Sam who shouts it. It's me. Really me. Not the demon inside. I feel like I'm being shoved further out of the picture, because whatever break I got is now gone. Dean looks at me-the demon-strangely.

"Told you," I hear Sam mutter.

"Enough lies," snaps Dean. "You better start spilling your guts before we do it ourselves."

"Oh, I don't think you will." The demon smiles. "You see, there's a reason why I chose little miss Max. I know she means something to you boys, especially to you." Its eyes narrow at Dean. "So you won't do a damn thing to me because you know it's gonna hurt her."

What do you mean by that? I ask the demon.

Wow, you are a natural blonde. It's so obvious!

"You son of a bitch. How long have you been in there?"

"Oh, a while now. I've just been nesting, waiting for the right time. Tonight seemed like a good night." It shrugs. "You know, for as long as I've been inside Max, I can see why you two took her in. The things she's got in her head. Oh, is she damaged. She's got a lot going on in this noggin of hers." I growl mentally as knuckles rap against one of my temples. "No wonder she's only told you her real name. She's afraid of what you'll think-"

"Get the fuck out of my body!" I somehow get a second wind and manage to get the demand out.

"Ooh, another pathetic attempt to regain control," the demon simpers. "How adorable. So, boys, what's next? An exorcism? Or are you going to flat-out kill me? Oh, wait, you won't, not as long as I have occupation in little miss Max." Judging by the faint feeling, my mouth is in a twisted grin.

"Funny you should ask that," says Sam.

We all hear the audio. The demon scowls as the Latin is just barely head, barely echoing in the halls.

The demon tisks. "Not a smart move, Winchester." My eyes go down to my shank in my right hand. Panic grips me, and I desperately want to fight back now. But its control over me is way too strong. "If I go out, you can be sure as Hell I won't go out without some collateral damage."

I know I'll feel it worse when the demon is out. But as the exorcism rolls on slowly, the demon cuts into my forearms. And I'm not talking skimming my skin, either. I'm talking deep cuts that automatically leak blood.

The demon watches Dean. I can see the faint pained look in his eyes. He knows all he can do is wait for the exorcism to release me from this grip. Work faster, work faster.

When the demon switches the shank into my left hand, I decide to try and force my way back. I manage to freeze my arm feet above its next incision destination. The demon hisses.

"Look who's trying to fight back." It laughs. "No matter. It won't be enough in the end. You'll bleed out, Max, with these wounds. Your precious Winchesters won't-"

"If you weren't in my body, I'd stab your eyes out right now!" I thunder.

The demon roars and closes my eyes-its eyes as well. I feel like it's a mental wrestle for control of my body. It's a match I must win at all costs.

I scream as I feel the blade cut into my right forearm. Come on, come on. The Latin is helping, I feel like I'm inching my way towards total control. My eyes open, mouth is pulled into a deep grimace.

"Oh, you think that that's it? Oh, no. If you want to make it fatal, you don't jump the stream, you run with it." The blade slides along my veins, and in an instant, the blood pours out. Before I can try and fight the demon again, it runs the blade along the veins of my left arm. "Look at you, still trying to make something of yourself!" the demon snaps through my voice. "It won't matter in the end." A deep cut into my forearm. "You can't repair that damage."

"Get the fuck out of me!" I shout.

And it's almost as though my words do it. Control snaps back to me, and all at once, I feel the pain. My mouth is agape, and I watch with horrified eyes as the black smoke spews out overhead. My arms are extended at my sides, and I make sure to drop my bloody weapon.

As the demon is expelled, it takes my energy with it. Once the last wisps of black have disappeared for good, I hear my pulse in my ears. My vision starts to grow fuzzy, and I fall forward.

"Max!" Dean's voice is the first I hear. I close my eyes as I fall. I solidly hit against his body and nearly hit the floor. "Max, come on! Max! Open your eyes!" I feel him shift me against him. "Sammy, get the first aid! Come on, Max!"

I let the tears fall as I feel the stings. My arms feel as though bees are stinging the veins. I put my head against Dean and sob mutely in my throat.

"It's okay." His voice is soft. I yelp as he tries to touch one of my arms. "Just hang on, okay? We're gonna get this to stop." He grunts, and I feel my feet dangle over one of his arms. "Just hang on, Max."

"Dean," I croak.

"Shh. I've got you. I've got you."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Just be quiet, okay? Just take it easy."

"But-"

"I mean it, Max." His voice gets a tad bit stern, and it's enough to shut me up on top of the pain.

I'm sent under, feeling the blood drip down my arms.

**I don't apologize for the intensity of this chapter. No regrets.

Sooo, if someone managed to guess Max's condition correctly, congrats! If not, it's totally okay. You aren't the first to not get it spot on.

I loved this idea, and I don't remember how I even came up with it.

P.S. I hoped you listened to the song that I put with this. If not, go back and play it. For the longest time, I tried to find a song that could fit this part. I have now.**