Sam's knuckles were raw and bleeding, but he barely noticed, to the credit of a combination of deep depression and an amount of alcohol unsafe for even a man his size. Aside from the dull, deep throbbing that seemed to start in his chest but radiate everywhere else, he could feel nothing but what he needed to get around. It had been about thirty or forty minutes since he punched a hole in the wall of the only bar for miles (a biker bar, at that) just above a particularly mouthy patron's head.

"Try me, you dumb fuck," he said, "Bone is a lot more satisfying to break than dry-wall."

Sam's deathly seriousness, paired with his unflinching tolerance of his mangled hand helped the stout forty-something reach the decision that he would simply return to his pint.

And now Sam was wandering aimlessly up the road, on foot.

When Jess died, I said "Never again"… God, I'm so STUPID! …Is she okay?

He was just a few miles West of where his brother was making love to- fucking Lory. He knew tonight was the night. He could smell it thick in the air around him, like sewage, and it made his stomach turn. The image raped his brain. He imagined that Dean was doing horrible things to her- being rough with her, calling her filthy names- choking her, and that she took it with silent tears, mournfully accepting.

He wanted to kill him.

Dean and Lory lay on their sides, embracing each other more gently than they ever had before. Lory remained solely in her bra, Dean, in his dark boxer-briefs. Fingers traced skin, tongues tasted lips- and they would pull away occasionally to lock eyes and share a knowing smile.

I can't believe this is really happening, they both thought at some point, but the thought was fleeting. They wouldn't want to soil the moment with doubt.

A few moments earlier, Lory had tentatively offered, "Should I…you know…do you?"

Dean shook his head.

"No, baby, tonight is all about you. It's your first time."

He smiled, and she smiled.

"You sure?"

"Mmhmm. Don't worry. We'll have plenty of time for that," he lied gently.

Now, they were spooning like experimenting high-schoolers, fingers creeping slowly and respectfully, as if Dean's face wasn't just minutes out of Lory's privates.

She could still taste herself in his mouth.

Between the booze and the motel room, the one-hundred-and-twenty-seven dollars Sam had in his wallet was nearly depleted. He wasn't worried, though. He had no desire to eat, and knew he probably wouldn't for a while.

He rolled over on his side. He saw Lory with his eyes open, with his eyes closed, with his eyes trying to focus on something else. If he lay awake, he would think about her. If he fell asleep, he knew he would dream about her- and him… Pumping on top of her like a filthy dog. First, he imagined that she might be picturing him, to make ordeal bearable. Then he imagined it was he on top of her, pounding at her tender flesh. What he saw wasn't tender, like he'd been imagining lately. It was him, not Dean, but still, Lory was weeping beneath him as he held her down mercilessly, growling "This is what you get! This is what you get! You should have chosen me! This is your punishment- but you like it don't you?"

He dry-heaved a couple of times, gasping for breath. He couldn't take it. He let out an afflicted, sobbing howl.

Oh my God… I would have raped her…

"Poor baby-"

His head snapped to the side.

She purred, "I hate to see you like this…"

"Ruby," he grunted.

"But I do believe an 'I told you so' is in order," she shrugged matter-of-factly.

He sighed, "Ruby…"

"What- you disagree?" she scoffed, folding her arms.

The gesture made her shirt ride up slightly.

He snapped, "I don't have time-"

But she cut him off, "Oh, you don't? Because all you're doing here is sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. Sam- get over it!"

"Don't fucking tell me to get over it, you heartless bitch," Sam snarled.

"Well, if I did have feelings, Sam, they would be hurt," she deadpanned, "Seeing as how I seem to be the only person who gives a shit about you right now."

"You don't give a shit about me," he dismissed rolling over, turning his back to her.

With eerie speed, her body was next to his, hand caressing his shoulder.

"And Lory Fletcher does?" she hissed, "Oh, Sam…Sweetie… I really do hate to see you like this…" her lips touched the back of his neck as she stroked his hair back matronly, "All over that chubby little skank-"

"Don't-" he pressed her wrists into the bed with lightning speed, his weight bearing down on her body, "you dare…"

She smirked nervously.

"Chill out. I know what you need baby…"

Sam released her arms but remained sitting atop her.

"Yeah? What's that?"

She reached in her pocket and presented a little switchblade before flicking it open and holding it to the crook of her neck.

"A little sweet ambrosia, baby."

"Christ, baby, I want to be inside you," Dean moaned through a mouthful of neck. He paused and looked at her. "Is that what you want, too?"

She smiled, nodding, "More than anything."

A soft sigh escaped him as his lips traveled over to hers, kissing her deep as he slid his black boxer-briefs down. She could feel him teasing her and she giggled through a gentle groan.

"Do you want this, baby?" he whispered, creating delicious friction between their two most sensitive spots.

Lory bit her bottom lip, staring up into his twinkling sage-colored eyes.

"I want it."

"Ask me for it," he grunted huskily.

"I want it, Dean," she whispered breathlessly, "I want you to take me. I love you."

He grinned, placing his lips over hers and stifling her grunts and whimpers as he entered her.

"You're hungry, aren't you, big boy?" Ruby laughed blissfully as Sam held the skin of her neck drawn into his mouth so long and forcefully that his teeth were imprinting.

He didn't answer. His skin surged, his veins burned, but his head was clear and it was beautiful.

He couldn't think of Lory if he tried.

He came up for air.

"Make a deeper cut," Sam demanded.

"Here," Ruby relinquished the blade, catching his eyes with hers for a slow moment, "You do it."

With a devilish smile Sam snaked down her body, biting her flesh, making a small incision across her ribs, then licking it. He made another just above her navel, tasted it, and did the same just below. He ripped down her pants, not even bothering to unbutton or unzip them, and Ruby laughed, even as a bit of her flesh caught under his nails. He threw her legs open. Her panties were the color of her blood- deep, irresistible red. Looking up at her with an unnamable expression, he slid the cold flat of the blade over her flesh, causing her to shiver.

"Mmm… Foreplay…" she smiled.

The blade sliced through the skin of her thigh, just inches from her sex, and Sam lapped the trail of dark blood from her skin just as soon as it appeared. Though it almost simulated sex, Sam thought it was so much better. Sex left you drained. But this- He could feel every nerve in his body tingle, every fiber in every muscle grow stronger, and with it, his lust.

"Oh, shit…" Dean grunted in Lory's ear as he eased in and out of her.

He hated to ruin the romance with coarse phraseology, but couldn't think clearly enough to filter himself.

So fucking wet- tight- warm- God. GOD!

Lory stared up at his face, mesmerized at how it could contort so and still remain the most beautiful she had ever seen. Sweat formed on his brow as he moved inside her- moving her insides. She clung so tight to him that he pushed and pulled her insides as he thrust.

She moaned softly, caressing his back and sides tenderly, kissing he tip of his nose.

"Mmmhmm… You like that?" he whispered, kissing her lips, "That feel good?"

It felt incredible, but all she could do was nod as their eyes locked. Dean weaved his fingers through Lory's. Her hands were soft and small and felt so good enveloped in his. She didn't mind his calluses. His touch was silken, regardless. They moaned and whimpered in unison, Dean uttering an occasional, "Oh, yeah…" The way Dean blinked while looking down at her told her he was ready before he could even say, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-"

"Inside me," she groaned, closing her eyes and beginning to buck against him.

And as her legs wrapped around his back she felt absolutely weightless.

Wow… He was right. It does feel like I'm flying.

"Ahhh…Shit…" he moaned, raising his head, his eyes fluttering, "Ohhh…Ohhh.. Oh, shit… Oh, SHIT! LORY!"

Her eyes popped open at the panic in his voice. The ceiling was right above them, and Dean's foot clanked against the light fixture. Lory's head lolled to the side. The floor was a good seven-foot drop. The bed began to wobble a little as Dean rocked uneasily. Lory turned her face to him, tenderly smiling and cupping his jaw in her soft hand.

"I won't let anything happen to you," she assured him with a gentle kiss and a soft caress down his spine.

And he exploded.

And so did she.

And-

"I will always love you, Dean Winchester."

"LORY!"

Every moment they spent together replayed in her mind at least three times and then-

"I will always love you, Dean Winchester."

"LORRYYYYYYY!"

She could see herself, though it couldn't have been her at that moment, but it felt as though it could be. The cavity in the side of her head leaked blood and brain as her hand rested on her hard, augmented belly, feeling a final kick inside her before the dark.

"LORRRYYYYYY!"

It was Dean.

"Lory! LORY!"

Her head wagged as he shook her slightly. Her eyes fixed on his.

"You're crying…" he whispered, concern painfully obvious in his every mannerism.

His thumb traced the wet trail down the side of her face. She reached up and brushed away a tear.

"So are you."

They started to ask, but asking also meant explaining, which would unnecessarily tick away at their precious little time together and cause unneeded grief. And knowing would only stir a desire to stop what cannot be unwritten.

Telling him would kill him.

She doesn't need that on her mind.

So they kissed each other's tears in silence.

Now resting on the ground.