You had always been careful, always followed the rules that Sam and Dean had drilled into you. Don’t speak Latin out loud unless you’re sure, never break a salt line, always wear your protection charm. But sometimes things just go wrong.

This time, it went wrong fast.

One minute you were investigating an old farmhouse with Dean and Sam, looking for clues on a demon that had been terrorizing the area, and the next, your body wasn’t your own. There was a sharp pain in your chest, a sudden jolt, and then… nothing. Darkness. Silence.

When you came to, it was too late. You could see, you could hear, but you couldn’t move. You weren’t in control. Instead, something else was. It was in your head, making your body move like a puppet, twisting your lips into a cruel smile as it faced Sam and Dean.

Dean’s face dropped the second he realized. His eyes widened, hand immediately moving to his side where he kept his gun. “You gotta be kidding me,” he growled. “Not them.”

Sam was already flipping through his journal, trying to figure out what they were dealing with. His face was tense, worried. He knew just as well as Dean that this wasn’t good. “How bad is it?” he muttered to Dean, glancing up to meet your eyes—no, not your eyes, the thing wearing your face.

“Real bad,” Dean said, jaw clenched. He stepped forward, raising his gun a little higher. “I don’t know what you are, but you better let go of them, now.”

The demon inside you just laughed, your voice twisted into something mocking, cruel. “Why would I do that? They’re fun. I think I’ll stay a while.”

Dean’s grip on the gun tightened. “Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when we send you straight back to Hell,” he snarled.

You could see the panic behind Dean’s anger, the desperation in Sam’s furrowed brow as he continued flipping pages, trying to find something—anything—that could help.

You tried to scream, tried to call out to them, but your body wouldn’t obey. You could only watch helplessly as the demon continued to toy with your friends.