"Come on out, Sammy!"

Sam turned into an empty, partially-lit room of the bunker, running as quietly as he could to the darkest corner of the room. He threw himself behind a desk, holding Ruby's knife as tight as he could with his good hand and slid down to the floor.

"Come on, Sammy. I just want to talk," the mocking voice said.

As Dean's footsteps got closer, then stopped in front of the room he was in, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing. He had never been so afraid of dealing with a demon until now. He had way more experience than any human ever should, but this was so much different. This was his brother.

Sam tried to think about anything other than having to deal with this when he felt a breath on his neck.

"Found you."

Sam's eyes flew open and he shot up to his feet.

Dean had a sick smirk on his face. "You think if you shut your eyes, I couldn't find you? Just like when we were kids?" He laughed a humorless laugh.

"Dean. Listen to me. Please."

Dean swept his hand to the side, sending his brother crashing into the far wall, then laughing when he fell to the floor with a thud.

"You know, Sammy, the truth is, I was so damn tired of our life. The things we had to deal with. The guilt, the shame, the hatred. But now- I don't feel any of that. The Mark turning me into a demon was the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I'm not six feet under, I can do and take whetever I want, whenever I want." Dean got that terrifing smirk on his face again. "And, I don't have to pay for it by feeling anything."

Dean grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt and leaned over him.

"And you, I am so sick of you."

Dean swung his fist into Sam's face, making direct contact with his left eye. Sam knew this might be coming, but he hadn't prepared for it.

"Dean." Sam pleaded.

"You know what I hate most about you? The way you remind me of how fucked up our family actually was. Especially after mom died. Your life was valued so much more over mine." Dean scoffed. "My whole life was taking care of you. Watching over you. Being a father to you since I was four years old because our real dad was such a shitty father. He would come back to the hotel room we were currently squatting in and beat the piss out of me if you had so much as a splinter. Do you have any idea what I had to go through just to keep you breathing?" He was yelling in Sam's face now.

"But now, guess what? It doesn't matter. Dad's rotting in hell and I can do to you whatever I want." He swung a fist across his younger brother's face again, hitting his jaw this time, leaving a deep gash from the ring he always wore. "So who cares?!"

Sam felt another punch coming, but he had to say something. His voice came out just above a whisper.

"I do. I care."

Dean stopped for just a second, seemingly surprised that Sam had said anything at all.

Sam took advantage of this and continued. "You were my best friend. You were there when no one else was. You protected me and stood between dad and me when he came back to the hotel, reeking of alcohol. You were my big brother." His eyes stung at his own use of the word "were". "You were my hero. I loved you. And, despite everything that is happening with you now, I still do."

Dean blinked, revealing his new, shiny black eyes. "Well it's a little late to tell me that now, isn't it?"

Sam stared into the blackness that was once green, wishing that they would turn back. They didn't. "I'm here for you, Dean. And I love you, no matter what." The tears stung Sam's eyes and the fear of whatever anticipated action Dean decided to take sat in his chest, a heavy burden making it hard to breathe.

Dean smirked his twisted smirk again as his black eyes shone in the dim room.

"You love me. Sammy? No matter what?"

"No matter what." Sam answered without hesitation.

"That's so sweet."

The smirk disappeared from Dean's face as he grabbed Sam by the shoulders and slammed him facedown on the floor, not caring at all about the fact that Sam's right arm was in a sling from the last demon he encountered. His newfound demon strength and Sam's fractured arm made this all too easy to hold his brother down by just the back of the neck and his left wrist. He was on top of him in a way that his knees were digging into the back of Sam's.

"You've always been so patient with me."

As he was saying this, Sam felt Dean's hand shove under him to the front of his jeans. His belt came undone.

"So...kind." The button on Sam's jeans popped open.

"So..." there was a 'zzzp' as Dean pulled down Sam's zipper. "...understanding."

Once Sam realized the horror of what was happening, he tried to struggle, but Dean was too strong. He heard the snap and zip of Dean's own jeans being undone an felt his pants being yanked down in the back.

"You really can't get it through your head, can you?"

"Dean, please don't do this." Sam pleaded. He closed his eyes and prayed that someone would come in and help him, but it didn't seem like anyone was going to. He had been alone in the bunker after all before Dean showed up, so who would? There was nothing he could do now except prepare himself for the worst.

Leaning down to Sam's ear, Dean positioned his cock to where Sam could feel it pushing against his ass. He was so humiliated.

"Dean. Please."

In a sinister, sick tone, Dean whispered "I love you, Sammy."

There was a sharp pain that made Sam cry out as Dean pushed into his brother. He couldn't get too far in without some help, however, so he unceremoniously spit on his point of entry, and pushed in again, hard. He didn't stop this time, thrusting in and out and a careless speed.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tighter and bit his lip to keep from crying out again. There was nothing he could do now except wait for it to be over.

The whole thing lasted about five minutes, but for Sam it could have been hours for all he was concerned. It was the longest five minutes of his life.

Finally, Dean let out one final grunt as he pushed all the way into Sam and tensed up. Sam felt the sickening heat of the demon that was his older brother coming inside of him, and like that, it was over. Cold, cruel, ruthless; but over.

Dean pulled out of Sam and stood up. He zipped and snapped his own jeans back up and turned toward the doorway of the room, leaving Sam on the floor. Without turning around and with a terrible coldness in his voice, he said,

"I'm not your brother anymore." And, like that, was gone.

Sam lie on the floor like that until he gathered enough strength to turn himself over on his back. He stared at the ceiling, feeling numb and sick.

As quiet tears slid down his cheeks, his own words echoed in his head. What words were said only moments ago seemed so far away now, like they had been spoken years back. It all brought a nauseous wave into his stomach. He wiped the tears from his face and carefully pulled his jeans back up, buttoned them and zipped them, then carefully worked his belt back to its original place with his left hand.

Thoughtlessly, Sam stood himself up slowly, and walked to the bathroom. The mirror told him about the damage Dean had done to his face, and he numbly rinsed it clean from the blood that was beginning to dry.

I love you. No matter what.