Twisted Love

Beta'd by mysterychic. She's so good to me. Big thankyous.

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

Review Answers:

Rose of No Man's Land – Yeah, I was hoping that'd be received that way, lol. It totally seemed like the kind of thing he'd do. Even if that did turn out to be a sort of dream thing. Yeah, Sam's visions are cool, but they're hard to write, which is why there aren't many when it comes to my stories.
Lol, another good reaction. Yes, I managed to write the date. And I'm glad you, er… I don't know if the correct word is liked, or loved… anyway, I'm glad you feel that way about the kiss, I wanted to make it as beautiful as possible without it being to guy/girl-ish. Good, that's exactly what I was hoping for. I'm not sure what you mean by you felt the intimacy. Hmmm… maybe I don't want to know, lol. Although that would certainly make me a good writer. Yeah, I update as fast as my ten fingers can write 'em (and you should see those little buggers go, they're like blurs on the keyboard right now).
Now, if you'll please step this way, you can read chapter five of this wonderful story. (And PS: Long reviews are my friend, so keep it up if you can – oh, that sort of rhymes).

puplover77 – Lol, that's an interesting way to start a review. I'm glad this story is being received so well. And I'm glad you followed me from the other one, because I like long reviews, and your review is long, so that makes me happy. Hmmm, an interesting scenario you've thought up there. It would be funny. Read on and see if anything happens. Yes, I'll keep writing as long as you keep reviewing (no, I lie, I'll keep writing whether you review or not).

Rosalene – Glad you think so. This soon enough?

Spuffyshipper – It was a good chapter, wasn't it? Well, now that's a question I'm sure Sam has found himself wondering many times. I wonder if this time will be any exception. You'll just have to read on and find out.

talon81 – Ah, so many people have been saying that, but it still thrills me each time. Yes, it was written well was it. One day I'll figure out how to tame one's own ego. Until then, I'm gonna keep lapping up all this compliments I'm getting. Thanks for reviewing.

Sammy girl at heart – Thanks. Maybe next time a little longer review? Pretty please?

eddy6401 – Thanks, glad you like it. I'll keep going as long as I can think of stuff to put in it.

Now, without further adew, on with the story ladies and gentleman. Please take your seats and strap in, because it's going to be a bumpy ride.


Chapter 5: Complications

Sam smiled as he slowly opened his eyes. The sunlight was trying to shine through the curtains, filling the room with a faint glow that allowed Sam to just make out shapes in the room. He turned to his right, thinking about maybe kissing Johnny good morning.

Except he wasn't there. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. "Johnny?" He gasped. "Johnny!" He repeated, louder this time, and got to his feet (ignoring the fact that he was still completely naked), and tried to listen for any sound that would tell him where the younger man could've gotten so quickly.

Before he could take another step, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending a cold chill down his spine. A second hand clasped onto his throat and pulled him back a step, and he felt someone lean forward so that their lips were equal with his ear. "You're all alone now." And it spun him around to face it-

Sam's eyes snapped open just before he saw it's face, and with a sharp intake of breath, he sat bolt upright, panic rising in the pit of his stomach. He glanced to his right, and almost leapt from the bed in shock; Johnny wasn't there.

"Johnny?" He called, choosing to stay in bed. "Johnny!" He repeated, and a second later he heard the sound of the toilet flushing, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the young man come out the bathroom, his dark blond hair a little dishevelled, but a pleased smile on his face, though barely visible in the early morning light.

"'Morning." He said, getting onto the end of the bed and crawling up to Sam, and then sliding back under the covers (both of them were still very much naked, and it was cold still, what with the sun not fully up yet). He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned up and kissed Sam softly on the lips. Sam smiled through the kiss and returned it. "You sounded worried." He said when he finally pulled back.

"I woke up and you weren't here." Sam said. "I thought it was a dream." He didn't say specifically what it was he thought was a dream. Johnny seemed to think he meant last night, and Sam was in no hurry to correct him.

As if to reassure him that he was there, Johnny wrapped his arms around Sam's torso and pulled him into warm hug, which Sam returned, holding the younger man against his body, welcoming the reassurance.

Their hug was interrupted when the door swung open and Dean walked in. Sam looked over Johnny's shoulder with a horrified look, and Dean took in the scene before him. Johnny looked over as well, completely in shock at being caught- Sam's mind momentarily wandered when he felt Johnny's hand move south down his back.

"Oh, shit, sorry." Dean gasped out. He about-faced and walked (at a barely-contained run) back out again. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pulled back, his hands now on Johnny's shoulders as he smiled at the young man.

"Now aren't you glad you let Dean talk you into meeting me." Johnny said. Sam laughed, and then answered him with another warm kiss on the lips, which Johnny returned whole-heartedly.

"Yeah." Was all Sam managed.

After a few more minutes of tender kisses, Johnny finally pulled back. "I'm going to take a shower." He said with a grin. Sam smiled, and Johnny's grin became a bit mischievous. "Wanna join me?" He asked. Sam laughed, but shook his head.

"Maybe some other time." He said. "Right now I think I'll just lay here and remember last night for a while." He said, resting his hands under his head as he laid back against the pillows. Johnny continued to grin, only mildly disappoint, and walked into the bathroom to take a shower, picking up his clothes as he did so. Sam closed his eyes when he heard the shower come on, content to listen to the running water and imagine it all pouring over Johnny's naked body, and momentarily regretting declining his offer to join him.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the motel door was kicked open and four cops, guns at the ready, burst into the room, followed closely by Detective Foel.

"Hands in the air." One of the cops said. Reluctantly, Sam raised his hands, wondering what he could've done wrong. Well, pretending to be a detective probably topped the list.

Foel walked over towards him, taking out a pair of handcuffs. Sam's eyes widened and he jumped back, rolling off the bed and onto the floor, out of reach of the bullets a nervous cop had fired when Sam had moved.

"You are under arrest for impersonating an officer of the law, and under suspicion of several murders. Do you want to add resisting arrest to that?" Foel said, standing on the other side of the bed. Sam considered his options, while at the same time he tried to figure out how he'd suddenly become a prime suspect for the murders.

"Pass me my pants." He said, not willing to lift his head above the bed for fear one of the cops would get nervous again and this time shoot him point blank.

"What?" Foel asked, looking around.

"Well, I'm not going with you completely naked." He said. Foel seemed to notice the clothing strewn about the room, reached down and picked up Sam's jeans, quickly checked to make sure there were no weapons of any sort hidden anywhere, and then tossed them over the bed to Sam, who quickly pulled them on and climbed slowly to his feet, hands in the air. Foel walked around and pulled Sam's hands down, clicking the handcuffs into place on his wrists.

"Sam?" He looked over and saw Johnny standing in the bathroom doorway, fully dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.

"Who are you?" Detective Foel asked, one hand on his gun, the other holding Sam by one arm. Johnny glanced at the sidearm at the man's waist.

"Johnny," he said tentatively. "Johnny Fields." Foel relaxed his grip on the gun, but his grip seemed to tighten on Sam's arm.

"You should consider yourself lucky," He said. "This man is a suspect in regards to a number of murders that have taken place recently. If your mother hadn't phoned the police last night and told us you hadn't come home, you might have been killed." Johnny didn't say anything. He glanced at Sam, who tried to shake his head, tried to tell Johnny that it wasn't true. Johnny gave the faintest of nods, and Sam could see in his eyes that he didn't believe that Sam had killed people, or that he would have killed him if the cops hadn't arrived. "Tell you what, why don't you go home, let your family know you're okay, and drop by the station later to make a statement, okay?" Johnny nodded slowly. He took one last look a Sam, and then walked past them, putting as much space between himself and Foel as he could, though to Foel it would've seemed like he was trying to stay away from Sam.

"You know, I don't think I really like the idea of being interrogated without a shirt on." Sam said. Foel ignored him, pushing him towards the door. Sam was torn between worrying about his situation and being annoyed that the detective didn't show him enough consideration to let him get properly dressed before arresting him. He settled for worry by the time he reached the police car and was shoved into the back. So he was a suspect for murder, did they have to be so rough?

The drive to the police station was made in silence, with Sam feeling more uncomfortable by the minute about not having his shirt on. He kept looking at Detective Foel who was seating on the back seat beside him. He found himself wondering about Dean. Had Foel managed to track him down as well, or had he gotten wind of what was happening or gotten away? Sam seriously hoped it was the latter, because he wasn't sure how he was going to get past this small complication otherwise.

He was given the chance to get of the car himself, which he quickly took, not wanting to be touched by them any more then was absolutely necessary.

He was taken straight to an interview room, where Foel told him to take a seat, and then left him there. As soon as he was sure he was alone, he got to his feet. He glanced at the mirror-like part of the wall to his left, knowing full well that from the other side it was a window, and that anyone looking through it would be able to see him clear as day. So he turned so he was facing the mirror and backed away from it 'til he came to a corner, and then he started working to get one of his hands into the back pocket of his jeans. He was relieved to find he had a paper clip tucked in at the very bottom, completely inconspicuous unless you were specifically looking for it, and Foel had only been looking for weapons that might be hidden that morning. Knowing it'd be suspicious if he went and sat back down, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, and leaning against the wall since his arms weren't much support during his descent. Before he knew it, his head had sunk against the wall and he was drifting off into a light sleep.

"Sam…" That voice again. It made him feel relaxed, like he had with Jess. At home. Like he belonged somewhere. He felt someone touch his cheek, but didn't open his eyes. He was afraid if he opened his eyes, the feeling would end. "Sam… Be in me, Sam. Fill me." He felt lips brush his own. He had to know. He had to see who-

His eyes opened with the door, and he looked up to see Foel coming back into the room. He did his best not to glare; he was only doing his job after all, and pretending to be a detective in a town where people were getting murdered was a little suspicious. But still, the way he'd been treated so far…

"On your feet." Foel said. When Sam struggled, the older man took pity on him (not much though), took him by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Over on the chair." He said, giving Sam a light shover the direction of the chair. Sam staggered before regaining his balance, and sat down on the chair on the other side of the table, hands still held behind his back.

"Mind explaining what you're doing in town shortly after a series of murders, posing as a detective?" He asked. "And what you were doing with that young man back at the motel."

"That's none of your business." Sam snapped before he could stop himself. The detective sitting across from him raised an eyebrow. Sam snapped his mouth shut and refused to look at the man.

"Okay, why don't we talk about your partner?" Sam couldn't stop himself from looking up when he said that. "Do you know where I went while you were… taking your little nap?" Sam couldn't help himself. He shook his head. Foel leaned forward. "We've already got him. If you tell me what the two of you are up to, I can… reassign the blame, so to speak. Your name would never come up in the report."

Sam leaned forward, n arrowing his eyes at the man as he spoke, taking in the way he positioned himself, the way he moved as he spoke, even the tone of his voice. When Foel finished speaking, Sam leaned back against his chair and stared at him for a minute before speaking.

"You're lying." He stated. Foel blinked.

"No, if you tell me what you two were doing, I can-"

"You don't have him." Sam interrupted. He smiled. "And I'm not entirely convinced I wouldn't get the blame either, even though, for the record, I had nothing to do with those murders." Foel narrowed his eyes at the young man. He was so sure of himself. It was like he was playing a game, and suddenly something had happened to tip it in the younger man's favour. Judging by the unconcerned look on his face (which hadn't been there moments earlier), Sam knew that as well. He had every confidence that his partner was still safe.

Foel was about to say something else when another cop opened the door.

"We got a 911 call, hold up down at Hilda's café." The cop said. Foel groaned and got to his feet, looking annoyed.

"Okay, put him in the cell." He said. He glanced at Sam. "We'll finish this conversation later." The cop came over and helped Sam to his feet (Sam was pleased to see that the woman was a lot easier on him then the others had been). She led him out of the room and down the hall to where the cells were. Sam was relieved to see a shirt had been dropped onto the floor of the cell. It wasn't his, but at least he would have something to cover up his exposed torso.

Sam willingly walked into the cell, and the female cop pulled the door shut behind him.

"Turn around." She said. Sam gave her confused look. "I'm going to take off the cuffs." Nodding, Sam turned and held his hands out to her. She reached in through the bars and unlocked the handcuffs, and Sam immediately pulled his hands around in front of him, rolling his shoulders and working all the knots out of the muscles. When he turned back around, he was alone. He tried to look out through the bars, but he couldn't see very far, so he wasn't sure how many cops had left for the hold up. He momentarily wondered if Dean had been the one to call in the 911 call.

Then he took the paperclip out of his back pocket and set to work on the lock on the cell door. It didn't take long, having been an accomplished lock-picker since aged twelve (he'd had to, that was the age when Dean start hand cuffing him to various objects around the house so that he could choose what they watched on TV).

With a satisfying click, the cell door unlocked. Sam slid it open as quietly as possible, and crept out of the cell. He glanced up and down the hall, and then headed towards the main office.

He took a quick look around the corner; there was only one cop on duty, a young man who looked like he might've been a little younger then Sam.

With the stealth a hunter at hid disposal, it wasn't hard for Sam to creep up behind the young cop. The fact that he was deeply immersed in paperwork helped as well. Before he even realized Sam was out of his cell, he was unconscious on the floor.

"Great, Sam. Wanted for impersonating a police officer, suspect in a murder investigation, and now assault." He berated himself. He grabbed a pair of gloves off the desk and pulled them on over his hands; he couldn't be too careful with fingerprints. Dean would call him paranoid, but he could afford to be paranoid; he'd just been arrested.

He dragged the cop down the hall, and then went back to the office, and grabbed a pair of hand cuffs. He put the cop's arms through the cell bars and then went inside and snapped the cuffs on him.

Sam went into the evidence room next. Maybe he shouldn't have wasted his time, but he couldn't let the cops find out who he and Dean really were. It didn't take him long. Thankfully, none of the stuff found at the motel had been catalogued yet. He grabbed his wallet, took anything else that might point directly to he or Dean, and then quickly wiped what was left with his shirt so that they weren't covered in fingerprints.

With that done, he stripped off the gloves, scrunched them up and dumped shoved them in his pocket to be dumped at a later time, and then walked inconspicuously out the front door of the police station, acting like he hadn't just been arrested. Glancing up and down the street, he decided going back to the motel would not be a smart move. So instead, he went in search of a phone booth that he could ring Dean from. Their job had just become a lot harder.


A/N: And another chapter is finished. It may take a little longer for the next one. I write best on weekends. Weekdays are harder for some reason. Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think, I know there are lots of you who are reading and not reviewing, because you've put this story on alert and/or under your favourites. I'm not pressuring you to review, but it'd be nice to hear your opinion on this story. Please?