Castiel had given him so much. Or taken away, to be more precise. The doubt, the weariness, the desperation, it all faded when Cas transferred the crazy from his mind. Sam could now see the difference between reality and the hallucinations his broken mind had previously conjured up. No more irritating Lucifer torturing him with the doubt of his sanity. No more frantic clawing at the scar on his hand, clinging on to what little hope in his brother he had left. Sam could eat, he could sleep, and he was grateful. But, no matter how hard they tried, no power on earth or from the heavens (let alone hell) could possibly stop the nightmares.
They came every night, and Sam knew this night would be no different. He reminded himself over and over again that he was in a dreary motel room with his brother and not in the cage with vengeful angels. Even though he still hung onto the hope that one day it would all be over, he knew deep down that his nightly encounters would never fade. He swept his gaze over the peaceful room while listening to his brother's gentle snores, bracing himself for sleep. The truth was, he was terrified. No matter how many times he repeated to himself, "I am free. They cannot get to me here." the dreams were always too vivid. He knew, that if he closed his eyes and gave into the pull of sleep, that he would find himself right alongside Lucifer and Michael, most likely strung up or on fire. But, he had to, for the sake of Dean. Dean would definitely question the circles under his eyes the next morning. With all Dean had gone through, Sam couldn't give him another bucket load of crap to worry about. Even if he did tell Dean, there would be nothing he could do. It would tear him apart when he couldn't stop the torture in Sam's head. Sam sighed. He might as well get it over with. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back in resignation.
Sleep took him over greedily, locking him away from the comfort of the cozy motel room. Sam had no time to take in his surroundings before a searing pain filled his whole body. It engulfed him, the pain, allowing no other emotion a chance to escape. There was no chance for hope or love to give Sam the slightest bit of reassurance that he would make it through the hurt.
"Welcome back, Sammy," he heard a sly voice say. "I think you'll be impressed of my plans for you today. We're going to mix it up a bit." Sam's only reply was a scream as Lucifer plunged a knife into his chest.
It seemed to go on for hours. Sam's voice was hoarse and tears were streaming down his cheeks. His whole body was begging for mercy. But still, Sam would not beg. He would not beg to the angels that ruined his life. The angels that were the cause of distrust between him and his brother, they were the reason so many people had died. The apocalypse was merely a squabble between two immature siblings who would have taken out the world without thinking twice. No, he would not beg to the bastards.
"Sam!" he heard faintly.
"Oh, shut up, Lucifer and leave me alone," Sam managed to croak painfully. The voice didn't seem to care that Sam didn't want to be bothered because it insisted yelling his name repeatedly. The voice got louder and louder until Sam jolted awake, finding himself in bed once again, tangled in sheets. Looking around, he saw Dean smiling at him from across the room, fully dressed. Seeing Sam's distressed expression, Dean's smile wavered and concern flashed across his face.
"Hey, you okay?" his older brother asked him, frightened of what might be going through Sam's head. The younger sibling managed to pull off a smile that seemed to set Dean at ease before replying.
"Yeah, let's hit the road. We have work to do."