Jess had once said that glitter was like herpes: rapidly spreading with contact and nearly impossible to get rid of. Sam is inclined to believe her. It's in his hair, on his clothes, all over his side of the Impala, and some of it's gotten into the stitches on his hand, and he's trying very hard to not to scratch it. Dean promises that he'll clean it as soon as they get to the motel.
There is silence in the car, and then Lucifer whispers in his ear. "Aw, Sammy, you should have told me about your thing with clowns. Just think - a whole new can of worms, forever unopened." Sam rubs at his ear, dislodging a clump of glitter behind the shell.
He has the sudden, irrational urge to grab the wheel from Dean, turn the car around, and run over the clown doll he threw away until it is a glittery smear on the pavement. He can see it now - instead flowing down the nearest pipeline, the glitter would float away, dissipating into the night wind. Or maybe - if it bleeds you can kill it - it would bleed away slowly, a rainbow sludge oozing away until there was nothing but bits of dried white skin and red hair.
Sam can feel Lucifer's hands in his hair. The glitter doesn't come out. He shifts uncomfortably and looks out the window. Dean glances at him, then turns back to the road.
What if you salted and burnt a clown corpse, he wonders, trying so hard to distract himself. He remembers that burning leather is blue, so maybe clowns would burn rainbows, colorful smoke that smells like cotton candy rising in a perfect spiral towards the sky.
Lucifer's breath is on his neck, warm and damp -
and it's hot and it's cold and either way it burns his skin peeling off slowly cell by cell piece by piece until he thinks he'll go insane and there's smoke in his eyes and mouth and lungs and he can't breathe the poisonous air so he can scream and Lucifer is there and Michael and poor unfortunate innocent guilty-by-blood Adam and everyone is fighting each other teeth ripping and nail clawing and kicking and punching and tearing each other apart and there's blood in his hair dripping into his eyes and -
Sam thumbs his scar. Lucifer retreats.
"You okay?" Dean asks, not missing a beat.
"Yeah." No
