Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts

Dean is 21, almost 22. Sam is 17. (NOT WINCEST!!!)

Okay, I'm reminding you guys and myself... SAM IS SEVENTEEN!! As I'm writing this, I'm noticing that I'm picturing him as like a 12-14 year old, which is wrong. He is SEVENTEEN! If you guys are also picturing Sam younger, Try to keep in mind he's almost an adult XD It makes the writing more powerful in my opinion ;)

OMG it's been FOREVER since I've updated! Nearly two months now! I'm so, so, so sorry! I hope you all haven't given up on me! I'm hoping to be back to regular updates now!

Enjoy chapter eleven!

Sam had himself pressed against the passenger door. The stranger's presence filling his heart with fear and dread. The pain in his head had subsided and Sam knew that Dean wasn't in any more pain.

For now.

Sam closed his eyes and stuck his hands in the pockets of Dean's leather jacket. Sam could still smell Dean on the jacket. The smell that, for over four years now, lulled him to sleep and protected him from all the evils in the world and in his head.

"We're here," Eric said.

Sam jumped a little, having momentarily forgotten where he was. Sam looked up and shivered as the house from his dreams filled his vision. He crumpled in on himself, fear suddenly paralyzing him. No! Dean's just beyond that door! Just get out and get him! But even still, Sam had no idea how he was going to save his brother, and his fear was making it harder for him to think.

Eric frowned. He really had no idea what to make of this situation. Here he was, an almost-adult teen huddled in his car, seemingly afraid to go into his own house. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sam jerked, abruptly turning around and staring at Eric with wide eyes.

"Son... is your family hurting you?"

Sam shook his head hard. "Gotta h-help..."

Eric sighed. "Alright then. Then git!"

Sam's chest tightened at the clear dismissal. He stumbled with the door handle and ended up spilling out of the car onto the hard pavement.

Eric leaned over and quickly closed the door and drove off fast, the kid starting to get just a little too creepy for him.

For a moment, Sam just wanted to curl up and ignore the world, but then he remembered why he was here and shakily pulled himself into standing position. His leg burned with the effort. It felt as though a thousand needles were being driven into his leg and rotated around. A few tears escaped as Sam held the light pole for support. Sam looked back at the house and did a mental gulp. Sam reached for the back of his jeans and pulled out Dean's pistol. With shaky hands, he checked the clip and quickly shoved it back into the gun. Taking a deep breath, he started walking towards the house.

---

Dean breathed heavily as the pain in his head faded. His eyes slowly cleared and the smug smile was still in his face.

"W-what are y-you smilin' at..." Dean stuttered out. He looked around at his father and saw him across the room, unconscious. "W-what did you do to him!?" Dean demanded, his voice starting to return.

The demon shrugged. "He was making too much of a racket. Hurts my head."

Dean chuckled. "And my screaming was just soothing."

The demon's smile widened. "But of course! Nothing quite like the sounds of pain and misery to make up my day!"

Dean was about to respond when the unmistakable sound of a door opening echoed through the house.

Dean and the demon both stilled. When seconds later, the sound of the door being slowly shut reached their ears.

The blood drained from Dean's face. He automatically knew who had opened that door and dread filled his heart.

The demon chuckled. "Well that was faster than I expected... Excellent."

"Leave him alone!" Dean said quietly. He knew that if he yelled for Sam to run or leave, Sam wouldn't just because he would know that Dean was there.

The demon kept his face looking upward, apparently following Sam's movements through the floorboards. "Oh, Deano-boy... I have to give little Sammy somewhat of a challenge." With this said, the demon snapped his fingers.

---

Sam slowly walked through the house, the pistol shaking hard in his hand. The basement... I have to find the basement door...

"Sammy!"

Sam whirled around and nearly collapsed with relief when Dean came out of the other room, bearing a few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise fine.

"Dean!" Sam lowered the pistol and ran as fast as his tortured limp would allow towards Dean. "Thank god your -- !"

Dean's face suddenly transformed into an ugly expression of hate as he brought his arm back and backslapped Sam across the face. Taken by surprise, Sam fell hard against the hardwood floor, the pistol flying out of his hands. Stunned, Sam brought a hand to his cheek and looked at Dean with hurt in his eyes. "D-Dean...?"

"I am so sick of you..." Dean said deadly quiet. He stepped up and grabbed Sam by the front of his clothes, lifted him in the air, and slammed him against a wall. Sam gasped as the pain shot up through his back. Tears came to his eyes as he looked at his brother pleadingly. "D-De..."

"Shut up!" Dean spat, spit flying at Sam's face. "Shut your fucking mouth, you whore!" Dean kneed Sam in the stomach, making Sam jerk forward as his body tried to double over.

This is a dream... Sam reasoned. This has to be a dream...

"Sorry, Sammy, but this is reality." He tossed Sam's body onto the floor and stood over him as a show of dominance.

Sam looked up at his brother, sobs making their way out of him. His body shook with shock and fear as he slowly crawled backwards away from Dean. "Pl-lease... d-don't..."

Dean smiled cruelly. "What? Don't hurt you? Rape you? 'Course it wouldn't be rape, because I know you like it." When Sam shook his head in denial, Dean just laughed. "Oh yes you do! You're just a filthy masochist who leeches off of others. I don't know why it took me so long... but now I realize. I should have left you on that road that day."

Sam expected his body to start shutting down. If Dean didn't want him, then there was nothing left for him. There was just one problem though.

Sam knew this wasn't Dean.

If Sam wasn't dreaming, than they only other option was that this wasn't Dean. Because no matter what, Dean would never say these things to him.

But that still didn't numb the pain they inflicted.

"Hey! You paying attention!" Dean swiftly kicked Sam in his side, making Sam's body jerk grotesquely and more tears to fall. Dean knelt down and grabbed Sam's hair, pulling his head up. Sam gasped as his head was yanked up cruelly, more tears leaking out of his tearducts. "How's it feel, Sammy? You getting off it? Huh?" Dean slapped Sam across the face a couple times, making Sam moan in pain. "You like that, huh? Makes you feel good?"

Sam started to sob. Even with the knowledge that this wasn't Dean, his fractured mind was slowly cracking at the abuse.

"Maybe I should start using you instead, huh? What do you think about that?" Dean roughly grabbed Sam's chin, forcing the younger man to look at him. "I bet I could make a profit, even out of a twisted freak like you." He then leaned forward and bite Sam's neck, making him yelp. Dean sucked on the area for a few seconds before chuckling. "What d'ya think? Aren't I good to you?"

Old habits resurfacing, Sam nodded, making Dean grin. "Do you want more?" Sam's body trembled harder, his tears blinding him as he nodded.

Dean laughed as he hauled Sam onto his feet and slammed him against the wall with his body. "Where do you want the hurt first, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. "F-first..."

Dean into Sam's eyes. "Yes?"

Sam looked up and made eye contact, flinching at the cold hardness there. Sam gave a small smile as he whispered, "Go to hell."

---

Dean jerked as the sound of a gunshot echoed from above him. "SAM!"

Okay, favor it ask. Can you guys watch this,

.com/watch?v=4m064pRqqsI&feature=channel_page

and let me know what you think? It's a serious consideration, but I might not...

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!