"Sammy."
There are fingers in his hair, unnaturally warm fingers that gently massage his scalp in an almost loving fashion. It would be easy to lean into the touch, to let himself be comforted and coddled, but he can't, because he knows who those fingers belong to.
"No." It's a well-used word, one that is broken and mangled and twisted and choked and barely recognisable as a part of the English language, but is there nevertheless.
More overheated fingers, these on his chin, grasping firmly and yanking his head up. Shocked by the movement, hazel eyes snap open to meet the blue ones above him. The harsh grip softens as a thumb glides over the skin of his cheek.
"You continue to torture yourself with this, Sam," Lucifer whispers, infinite sorrow plastered onto his blistered features. "It can stop. You can stop it. You know how."
"No." The word is firmer now, hissed from between clenched teeth as he glared at the figure about him.
"I dislike hurting you, Sammy. I care for you. I understand you. Dean, however..." The threat is veiled, soft, but a dagger of ice lay at its core, and Sam shivered with fear for his brother.
"No." It is a breathy sound as his voice wavers and his eyelids squeeze shut, panic clutching at his heart.
Soft shushing noises issue from above him as hot fingers card through his hair, soothing him, gentling him.
"Say yes, Sammy." It is like a plea, the yearning in the words so pained that he almost wants to say yes, to give in, anything to make that broken sound stop because despite it all, he did still have sympathy, even for the devil. However, he remembers the threat to his brother, the threat to hurt the one he holds dearest, and he steels himself.
Sam didn't bother responding, simply releasing a small sigh and waiting for the first rays of morning sun to peer through the dirt-streaked windows of their latest No-Tell Motel. It was going to be a long night.