Okay, guys, this gets dark. It's a downer. We got tons of language and some pretty severe sexual abuse. If you can't deal, then don't read. Consider yourself warned.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

CHAPTER TEN

Grinning, eyes sparkling with horny anticipation, Dean started to drop down on the ground beside Sam. He stopped when he heard the sound of crunching gravel. A car pulled in close behind the Impala.

Frowning, Dean looked up to see a highway patrol officer stepping out of his car.

"Oh, crap." He gave Sam a warning nudge. "Heads up, Sammy. Five-0," he said in a low voice.

The officer, a short, tubby man with a balding head and swaggering gait, walked around his car and stopped a few feet away from them, fingers hooked casually in his belt.

"Evening, boys," he said, experienced eyes looking them over. "Not really the best place to pull over. You okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered respectfully. "My brother was feeling sick. I pulled over 'cause I didn't want him pukin' in the car."

The officer tilted his head, studied Sam carefully. "Haven't been drinking, have you, son?"

Sam gave the man his best sad puppy dog eyes. "No, sir. I'm just sick," he said weakly.

"Might be the flu," the officer said sympathetically. "Lot of that going around this time of year."

"Might be," Dean agreed. He crouched down in front of Sam and, unseen by the officer, gave him a wink. "You feeling any better, kiddo?"

Sam bit back a smile. "Little bit."

"Good enough to get back on the road?"

When Sam nodded, Dean rose to his feet, pulling his brother up with him.

The younger boy's long legs wobbled a bit and, for just a second, Dean admired his brother's unself-conscious artistry.

"So, you boys good to go?" the officer asked genially.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. "Thanks for stopping."

"That's my job. You drive safe, now. Get that boy home and into bed."

Dean almost choked at that. "Yes, sir, that's my plan."

Nodding a good-bye to the man, he handed his brother back into the waiting Impala, shut the door and headed quickly around to the driver's side, and the patrolman headed back to his car.

Traffic was busy. As Dean, drumming his fingers impatiently on the wheel, waited for a gap to open up, Sam elbowed him in the side. "Cock-blocked by a cop, dude!" he snickered.

"Quiet, Samantha. We're not out of here yet." Dean reached out and caressed Sam's thigh. "But as soon as we're out of Deputy Dawg's territory –"

Face heating up, Sam snorted and looked out the back window at the officer standing next to his patrol car, speaking into his shoulder mic.

Feeling Sam's eyes on him, the man looked over at the Impala. As he did so, a semi-truck passed, heading in the other direction. Its headlights washed over him and his eyes flashed a sudden brilliant yellow. He grinned at Sam, wide and mocking.

Sam gasped in disbelief. "Holy - ! Shit! Dean!" Shoving his door open, Sam threw himself out of the car, clumsily falling to his hands and knees. As he struggled up, the officer gave Sam a friendly salute and climbed into his car, taking advantage of a momentary lull in traffic to pull back out onto the highway and roar away, giving a peppy farewell toot on the horn.

"Fuck!" Dean slid hastily out of the Impala and grabbed Sam's arm. "What the hell? Sam?"

Stunned, Sam didn't hear him, didn't even really feel Dean's hands on him. All he could see was the gleam in the demon's eyes, his smile . . . Can't be, can't be, can't be.

Dean's grip tightened. "Sam!"

Sam finally looked at him, face white, eyes wide and shocked. "It was him."

"Who?"

Sam looked down the road in the direction the patrol car had disappeared. "The demon."

Dean's eyes widened and his hand whipped around to his back, pulling out his gun. "Where?"

"He was in the cop," Sam said numbly. "He was here. In the cop. Dean, he was in the cop."

"Oh, crap!" Dean followed Sam's gaze to where the patrol car had vanished. "Damn it!"

The patrol car, the cop, and his demon-rider, were long gone. No chance of catching up with it. And hell, he didn't even know if they should make the attempt. Instead, hyper-aware of their exposed position on the side of the road, he took his shaken brother and gently tucked him back into the car.

They sat in the Impala for several minutes; Dean frantically trying to think, and Sam sitting still as stone beside him.

"We are so fucked," Sam finally said bleakly.

Dean reached over and touched Sam's hand reassuringly. It was icy cold. "Hell." He reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, draping it over Sam's shoulders, tucking it in around him. "Come on, kid, we're okay."

Sam looked at him, eyes desperate. "He found me. I wasn't asleep and - Dean, he found me."

"I know this is bad, Sam," Dean admitted, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice. "But we'll figure it out. We'll go to Pamela's and - "

"Oh, come on!" A tear ran down Sam's face. He wiped it away with a shaking hand. "How the hell is she gonna help? Even if she's got some way to keep that fucker out of my head, what good is that if he can find me whenever he wants to?" Sam's voice got louder, his breathing faster. "He was in a cop. A cop – " He cut himself off, tried to get hold of his rising panic.

"Sam – "

Nerves raw, Sam snapped.

"No! She can't help. You can't help! Dad was right! We're never gonna get rid of that demon, you should just fucking kill me –"

Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "Don't you say that!" He shook him hard, shocking Sam breathless. "Don't you ever say that!"

When Dean, breathing hard, released him, Sam shrank back against the passenger door, as aghast as Dean at what he'd said. Pulling the blanket tightly around him, he stared at the floor, shaggy hair falling down, hiding his face.

With no idea what to say, how to make the situation even marginally better, Dean started the Impala and pulled out into traffic. He hadn't gone more than a mile down the road before he pulled over again and parked.

"Sam . . ."

Sam swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, you did." The car was silent for a little while. "That's what scares me," Dean said at last. "You've probably been thinking that for a long time. You just finally lost it enough to say it out loud."

Sam shrank even further down in his seat. "I'm sor – "

"You've got nothing to be sorry for!" Dean interrupted impatiently. "Nothing." He eyed his brother anxiously – the kid was pale, hollow-eyed and exhausted.

"Look, Sam – you're beat. You've hardly slept for days. That yellow-eyed bastard is on your ass, and what with Dad and those damned hunters – it's no wonder you're half out of your mind."

He slid across the seat to Sam. When Dean's arms closed around him reassuringly, Sam sighed and, for a long, lovely minute, let his fear go, content to rest in the strength and safety of his brother's arms.

Too soon, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Sam's head and pulled back a little. "Listen, Sam." He hesitated, knowing his suggestion wouldn't be popular. "You've got to get some sleep."

Stiffening, Sam shook his head stubbornly.

Dean sighed. He wanted to argue. The kid needed sleep, and badly, but there was no arguing with Sam when he had that face on. Besides, if a damned demon were waiting for him to close his eyes, he'd have a hard time sleeping, too.

"Okay," Dean said reluctantly. "But we're still going to Pamela's place, Sammy."

Sam didn't answer. He didn't need to. His belief that she would be completely useless showed clearly in his face.

"Look¸" Dean persisted. "Let's just try. If – when she tells us how we can keep that evil son of a bitch out of your head, then we can deal with the other thing."

"Dean, I just don't think - "

Dean placed a gentle finger against Sam's lips. "I'm driving this bus, kid. We're going. And listen, if you do fall asleep, it's okay. I'll wake you up if it looks like you're having a nightmare."

"Dean." Sam drew in a deep breath. "I'll go to Pamela's, but only –" He faltered, then went on. "Only if you promise not to let me –" what, go dark side, turn evil, kill everything in his path? Then he knew. "Dean, promise you won't let me hurt you."

"Sammy, you wouldn't –"

"Promise!"

At the desperation in Sam's face, Dean gave in. "Okay, Sammy. Okay. I promise." He tilted Sam's face up to his, kissed him. "We gotta get going. And we're not stopping until we get there."

Sam nodded and tucked himself in against his brother's side. As the Impala pulled back out onto the highway, he turned on the radio, loud, and got ready for a long night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ain't no mistakin', my body's shakin', my soul's been taken

by a Devil with a New Disguise

Aerosmith – "Devil's Got a New Disguise"

"Sammy, wake up."

Sam gave a little moan of protest and snuggled deeper into Dean's arms. "Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"Come on, baby boy," Dean coaxed gently. "We gotta get back on the road."

Sam just snuggled in deeper, then the sense of the words sunk in and he opened his eyes. "What?" He looked around, confused to find them nestled in the middle of a big queen bed. "We stopped? I thought we were gonna drive straight through?"

"I was falling asleep at the wheel. You don't remember?"

Sam shook his head and Dean laughed, kissing him on the end of his nose. "You were pretty out of it. Practically had to carry you inside."

"Oh." Sam lay back against the pillows and stretched, the sheet slipping down around his slim hips. "I guess I slept. I feel - great."

"Good. Told you, that's all you needed." Dean smirked. "I call first shower, bitch." He started to sit up, but stopped when Sam grabbed his arm.

"What's the hurry?"

The sudden huskiness in Sam's voice brought a sly grin to Dean's face. "You got something special in mind, Sammy?"

Eyes mischievous, Sam pulled Dean down on top of him. "Gotta make it up to you, missing out on highway sex."

"I might want to hold out for highway sex – " Dean caught his breath and groaned as Sam grabbed him by the ass and pulled him in close, grinding against him.

"Sammy, Jesus - "

"Dean," Sammy whispered in his ear, licked it. "Brother. I want your cock inside me."

Dean's eyes widened. Growling, he smashed his lips hard against Sam's, thrust his tongue inside his mouth and licked it out roughly. "Love it when you say shit like that."

Sam sucked on Dean's tongue, scraping his teeth across it. He dug his fingers deeper into Dean's ass cheeks, drawing another stifled groan out of him. "Come on, Dean. Come on."

"You asked for it." Dean chuckled and shoved Sam's thighs roughly apart . Licking a finger, he pressed it against Sam's puckered, twitching hole and then pushed it into him, drawing a surprised squeak and gasp.

"You like that, baby?"

Sam laughed. "That all you got?" he said breathlessly, pushing down on Dean's finger.

With a grin at the challenge, Dean slipped in a second finger and Sam threw his head back with a moan. He held still for a second while his body adjusted, then, ass clenching tight around Dean's fingers, rocked hard against him. "That – all – you got?"

Dean leaned in and licked a rough swath up the side of Sam's neck, sucking hard, using his teeth, marking him. Sam moaned and whimpered, squirming under him.

"Love it, don't you, baby?" Dean pushed in a third finger, hard and fast, splaying his fingers wide. Sam cried out, pain and pleasure taking him and Dean covered his mouth, sent his tongue in, fucking into Sam's mouth with short, violent thrusts.

Breathing hard, he pulled back, staring into Sam's face, closed eyes, mouth open, panting and gasping with need. "You're beautiful like this, Sammy," he said softly. "You know that?" Rotating his fingers, he stroked Sam's prostate.

Sam arched back with a wild cry, twisting under him, gasping. "Dean, please . . . "

Eyes intent on Sam's face, Dean shoved in a fourth hard finger, mouth curved in a satisfied smile, watching his brother quiver and shake.

Once his body adjusted himself to the new stretch, Sam shoved himself back onto Dean's fingers. His torso shone with sweat, his cock hard, slick and dripping with pre-come, slapped up against Dean's cock. Panting, Sam reached down and tried to take hold of his brother's hard, twitching dick, but Dean pushed his hand away casually.

"Dean, let me . . . "

"Sam," Dean said tenderly. "You're so good at this. Are you sure I was your first?"

Sam licked his lips, staring at Dean with confused, passion-blind eyes. "What –"

"Sammy. Sweetie." He splayed his fingers again, scraped them not so gently against Sam's inner walls, watched him writhe and whimper. "Did Dad come to your room at night when I was away?"

Sam's face twisted in a mixture of pain, lust and hurt. "Dean, no - "

"You sure? Dad never ploughed your sweet ass, baby boy?"

Dean thrust his hand into Sam even further, almost to the wrist. Sam moaned in pain and tried to pull away.

Dean held him down easily. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled. "You think I'm done here? I've waited a long time to get you under me."

He grinned mockingly as Sam's eyes widened in shocked realization and terror. "Oh, you finally got it, huh?"

"Get off me!" Sam gasped. He pushed with all his strength at Dean's arms but it was no use.

"Oh, come on, Sammy!" Dean's eyes glowed yellow. He flexed his hand, grinned as Sam cried out in pain. "Don't be such a prude. You can't tell me you've never thought about it. Big, strong Daddy John lyin' on top of you, fucking your whore brains out?"

Frantic, Sam struck out, clawing at him. Dean only laughed at his struggles, held him down and dug his hand in even further, drawing out another low, choking moan.

"Incest is incest, kiddo," Dean chided him. "If you can fuck your brother, you can fuck your father, too." He drew his hand halfway out of Sam and plunged it back in hard, twisting viciously and licked his lips with satisfaction when Sam cried out in pain.

"In fact – " Dean's image shimmered and was suddenly gone.

John beamed down at Sam. "Hey, son."

Sam screamed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sam had been sleeping for a good two hours with no sign of nightmares, for which Dean was grateful. The kid was looking ragged as hell. He hoped this friend of Bobby's could help, because, Winchester or not, there was a limit to how much Sam could take.

Dean sighed wearily. God, he wished he and Sam could just shack up some place - some nicer than usual motel with a big, soft bed. Somewhere safe he could lay his sweet boy down and show him just how much he loved him. Convince him that no matter what, he would always love him, always protect him.

He felt Sam start to tremble against him, heard a little whimper. Hell. He drew his brother tighter against him, brushed his lips across the top of his head. "Wake up, Sammy. Come on, baby. Wake up."

Sam went completely still. Even his breathing seemed to stop. The next moment, with a hoarse cry, he tore himself away and flung himself to the other side of the car, scrabbling frantically for the door handle.

"What the - !" Braking, Dean quickly pulled over to the shoulder. "Sam!"

Sam moaned. "No, no, no, no." Sobbing, he wrenched again and again at the door handle but, still half asleep, didn't realize the door was locked and he couldn't get it open.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder. "Sammy, wake up!"

Sam knocked Dean's hand away and renewed his attack on the door, finally getting it open. He was halfway out of the car before Dean managed to grab him by the back of his jacket and haul him back inside.

"NO! NO!" Sam went ballistic. "Get off me, you bastard!" Screaming incoherently, he flung himself on Dean, kicking and punching.

"Shit!" One of Sam's fists connected and Dean's lip split, blood running down his chin. "Damn it! Ow! Sam!" Trying not to hurt him, but damn it, the kid hit hard, Dean shoved his brother down onto the leather seat, pinning his wrists together.

"Sam, damn it! Wake up, it's me!"

"Liar!" Wild with fear, Sam struggled against him, tears streaming down his face, he thrashed helplessly under his brother's weight. "Fucking liar! Let me go! You're not – you're not!"

"Sam, come on, baby, come back. Wake up." Voice low, soothing, heart breaking at the terror in his brother's face, Dean kept talking, trying to bring him back.

At last, limp with exhaustion, Sam lay still beneath him, staring dully at the roof of the Impala.

"Sammy?" Dean let his wrists go, touched the side of Sam's face. Sam didn't respond.

Dean said reluctantly, "I'm gonna get off you, okay?"

Sam gave no sign that he'd heard, but when Dean eased back, other than a shuddering sigh, he remained still.

"I'm gonna lean past you, shut your door. Don't freak out."

Sam nodded, at last, short and jerky. His eyes tracked just short of Dean as his brother reached past him and shut the door, then pulled back and sat down again, a couple feet away.

Dean waited. After a few minutes, Sam pulled himself up and sat hunched in on himself. His eyes, wide and haunted, jumped to Dean's bloodied mouth. "Sorry."

Relieved to see some sanity back in his little brother's eyes, Dean held out his arms, but Sam shrank away.

Dean slid slowly over and put his arms around his brother's shaking body. Sam shuddered, muttering something indistinct.

Dean lowered his head, straining to hear. "What?"

"I didn't do it, Dean. I didn't do it, I swear . . . "

"What? You didn't what?"

Sam shook his head. Tears starting again, he pressed his face against Dean's chest and now Dean could fear the heat radiating off his brother's body.

"Shit, Sam, you're burning up!" Dean swore, furious at himself for not noticing earlier.

He reached into the glove box and rummaged around until he found a bottle of Tylenol, shook out a few and pushed them into Sam's trembling mouth, then held a bottle of water to his lips.

"Come on, swallow," he ordered. "We gotta get that fever down."

Barely able to swallow without gagging, Sam somehow managed to choke the aspirin down, swayed and grabbed hold of Dean's jacket. "Dean."

"Take it easy, baby," Dean said reassuringly. "Relax. The aspirin will take the fever down. I'll get you to the psychic's house. Everything is going to be all right."

Eyes dark, defeated, Sam shook his head again. His voice was so soft it was barely a whisper.

"It's never gonna be all right. Not ever."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Many apologies for the long delay in posting – I've been sick and only recently stopped trying to cough my lungs up. Well, at least not both lungs. Working now on the final chapter for Junkyard Dog and other assorted smaller pieces. Thanks for being so patient and thanks for reading.