It hurts. Attention too divided to hold him under, the demon lets Dean feel everything, every hot scrape against his insides as the thing digs in, bears down, anchors itself against removal. Dean feels full with it, every part of him invaded, and Sam...Sam is in front of him, body held in a stance Dean knows well, and a look in his eye Dean knows even better.

"Sammy," he mouths, screaming through another ineffectual tug, "Not like this."