Spoilers for 7.12 'Adventures in Babysitting'

Head Case

And everyone thought that Dean was a good actor.

Sam pressed his head against the cool glass of the car window and closed his eyes.

He felt Dean's gaze and had to fight the shiver.

Lucifer was quiet; a constant dark and heavy presence at the edge of consciousness.

Sometimes the devil dug little holes in Sam's brain and planted weeds, but not today. Today Satan was pensive and Sam couldn't care less. He just wanted to sleep.

Blacktop hissed beneath the car's tires; it used to hum, an electric pulse coursing along the veins of his heart. But this isn't the Impala and the devil leaves no room in his head for Sam to hear the tune.

Bobby is still dead and Dean came for him. He always comes for Sam and sometimes Sam wonders why.

The venom had kept hell at bay for a little while. It had muffled the noise, muted the monsters, and does it make Sam a bad person if he offered his blood for some peace of mind instead of something else?

Yeah. Probably. And how fucked up is that? Only in a Winchester was self-preservation akin to blasphemy. Freakin' family of martyrs.

Remind me again, Dad, why is it our job to save the world?

Chrissy's father can believe what he wants (thank you for saving my life) but Sam knows the difference.

Sally. Sally. Poor Sally on a stick.

That is what Lucifer chanted and Sam just wanted him to go away.

Go away. Go away.

So the hunter opened his mouth and earned a bloody thank- you.

The pain had been exquisite.

Champagne to a palate used to cheap beer served by a drunk in a trucker's hat.

God, he missed Bobby.

Was he allowed to miss Bobby?

Sometimes Sam wasn't sure. He wanted to ask Dean but was afraid of the answer.

Don't be so selfish, Sam. Not everything is about you.

The whiteness of the pain had blotted out the devil and for a while Sam found peace; a piece of himself.

And when he'd opened his eyes, Dean had been there.

Sam hadn't been so sure at first.

But Lucifer was silent so Sam had watched, his own kind of quiet and numb, until a silver knife had been pressed into his hands.

Stab, twist.

It was over for now.

And Dean was really there.

Sam had wanted to smile. To assure his brother that everything was okay, and that Dean still had him, broken and crazy but still there.

And then the ground rushed up to meet his face.

Pain had welcomed back Sam to consciousness again.

And that was a good thing.

It kept the devil away and Sam had been able to think. He put the right face on and relief rushed his brother's features. Dean had even smiled and then cussed him out for the hell of it.

Ten minutes later and they were saying their good-byes.

The Winchesters say good-bye to everyone but the words are wasted on them.

The devil told Sam so.

The music stopped and Dean didn't put it on again.

Sam smelled his worry and slowly turned to face him.

"I'm okay," he promised, his lie, and it made them both feel better.

"Need to stop?" Dean asked.

Never, Sam wanted to say, but instead he managed a shrug and let his brother decide.

Lucifer was stirring and Sam was so tired of the vigilance; of living with an enemy that was just waiting for its chance, to get the drop on him.

But he could never tell Dean.

Never let his brother know.

Dean didn't need that, when there was nothing he could do, so instead Sam just forced a grin to go with his, "Nah, I'm good."

Then turned back to the window to not get some sleep.

And everyone thought that Dean was a good actor.

Especially Sam.

The End.