A missing scene for 11x22 "We Happy Few". Was rewatching some of Season 11 and forgot how irritated I was with how the writers ignored Sam in the second half of the season. They do an amazing job with "O Brother Where Art Thou?" and "The Devil in the Details", and then totally forget about Sam's emotional development regarding Lucifer. I wanted to remedy that a bit.

For something along the same lines with a little more action, check out AlxM's awesome story 'Confined'.

To say that it wasn't strange to have both Lucifer and capital G God living in the bunker would be a lie. But Dean was coping far better than he would have predicted. Knowing Lucifer couldn't hurt them eased his anxiety considerably, though his emotions still flared whenever he looked at the fallen angel and was forcibly reminded his best friend was trapped inside. He secretly hoped that once Amara was dealt with, Chuck would find or make a new vessel for Lucifer or get rid of him entirely. It wasn't fair for Cas to suffer for Lucifer's sake. Sure, he'd said 'yes', but only because he thought there was no other way out. Now there was, as long as Chuck was willing to play ball.

"You're staring again," said that too-high voice from such a familiar mouth. Dean's absent-minded gaze focused on Lucifer's face, still in profile as he read a book at the library table. "Didn't your mother tell you that was rude? Or did she not get the chance before she died?" With that comment, Lucifer looked pointedly at Dean and raised his eyebrows in a mocking query.

Dean snapped the laptop shut and tossed it on the chair as he stood. "Shut up, Lucifer. No one thinks you're funny." Lucifer gave him an ugly look as he strode out of the room.

Dean was content with his retort until he heard Lucifer say to himself "Might wanna ask your brother about that…"

Sam! Dean whirled in the doorframe and daggered his gaze at his friend's face, though the smirk playing upon his lips was decidedly not Castiel's. "If you even looked at my brother the wrong way, I swear to—"

"To who, pops? Yeah, good luck with that one. And Sammy? Well, I don't need to even look at him to rattle his cage." Lucifer closed his book and set it down. "I mean, you do realize what a whiny little bitch he is, don't you?" Dean squared his shoulders and set his jaw. No one had the right to talk about his brother that way. "Ugh, in the Cage, the slightest thing could set him off wailing. Even our last solo dance, when we were trying to get you back from that submarine and he let me ever-so-kindly touch his soul—"

"He what?!" Dean was taking slow steps towards the table, fear chilling his blood. Sam had never spoken much about any of his interactions with Lucifer and now he kind of regretted it. How much had Sam been through that Dean had no idea about?

Lucifer sighed happily at the memory and Dean's stomach fought to empty itself. "Never mind that now, Dean. You might want to go see how little bro is faring in the present moment."

Dean was standing across from him, staring at Lucifer's grinning face. "What did you do to him?!"

"Nothing… yet."

Dean turned on his heel and fled the room, shouting Sam's name over Lucifer's amused chuckle.

Sam heard his name being called, Dean's voice echoing around the halls. Panic threaded through Sam at the urgency and he dropped the box he was examining on the table and ran out the door.

"Dean! What's wrong?!"

"Sam? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm over here! Storage room number four!" Another ten seconds of harried footsteps brought his panting brother into view. "Dean? Everything okay?"

A hand clasped on his shoulder as Dean frantically searched his body. "I am as long as you are."

Sam scrunched his face in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

Dean hunched over, butt to the wall, hands on his knees, forcing his body to breathe. "That's… that's not what Lucifer said."

Dean didn't miss how his brother's body froze at the name. "L-Lucifer?" Sam stammered, then cleared his throat, collecting his strength. "What did he say?" he managed more normally.

Dean stood upright but remained leaning against the wall. He cast an assessing look at Sam. "Said you weren't doing so hot."

Sam avoided his gaze and turned, entering the room from which he had originally emerged. "Whatever, he's just messing with you. Kind of his MO," Sam answered quietly.

Dean followed Sam into the brightly lit room then stopped abruptly, his eyes unable to focus on any one object before him. Hundreds, if not thousands, of random artifacts were spread out across every available surface. At least fifty curse boxes were stacked up on each other, each with unique inscriptions decorating their sides. One table was covered in carefully laid out necklaces, charms, watches, and other shiny things. Several peoples' worth of bones were piled up in a corner. A doll old enough that it could have invented the uncanny valley stared cold-eyed at Dean and he quickly moved on. A cracked mirror, several swords and blades, a rusted-out harmonica, an oddly fresh looking box of strawberries, a neatly folded tablecloth, just hundreds of seemingly random items strewn about in a barely orderly fashion.

The only thing uniting them all was a tiny string and paper tag which bore Sam's handwriting.

"Sam, what is all this?"

Sam was still faced away from him, his hands working almost frantically. "Cursed objects. I'm continuing our catalogue."

"Last time I checked, we were on storage room number 1."

"Yeah, and I've been busy."

"When have you had time to do all this?"

Sam shrugged, though his shoulders came to rest at a lower position than they'd started. "Whenever I can."

Dean studied him for a moment, took in the wilt of his shoulders, the tiredness in his voice, and suddenly he understood. "You mean whenever you're not sleeping."

Sam's hands stilled and he placed them on the counter and hung his head. "I might as well be useful, right?"

"Sam…" Dean entreated.

"Dean, it's fine. I enjoy it. You don't have to worry about me."

The way Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean laid his hand on Sam's shoulder said otherwise. Sam tried to hide it but both men knew what they'd seen.

"It's my job to worry about you," Dean replied softly. Sam seemed to tuck into himself even more. "Hey, man, look at me."

Sam threw his head back and sighed in exasperation. He turned around, but still did not look up, his long hair falling to shield his face. "Look, it's nothing you need to be concerned about. Don't you think we have bigger things to be worried about right now?"

Irritation seeped into Dean as he understood what Sam was really trying to say: I don't matter. "Is that what this is? You're trying to deal by coming down here and burying yourself in mindless work? Because you don't think you're worth it?"

Sam sniffled and his hands were digging in his pockets like they were trying to escape. "It doesn't matter, Dean. Only thing that matters is beating the Darkness."

"Uh, come again? Sure, it's a priority, but I can multi-task."

"You've got enough on your plate… Amara, Cas, another end of the world…"

"Yeah those things are all important, but so are you, so are the things that have been happening with you!" Dean baited, hoping Sam would open up.

"Like what?" It would have come across as a challenge if Sam wasn't so desperately fighting to maintain control.

"Like when Lucifer touched your soul to get me back from the Bluefin."

Sam's strength seemed to falter and he started to shake. Dean lifted Sam's chin and was surprised by the red, glassy eyes staring back at him.

"How did you find out about that?" he gasped, terror painting his features into a heart-breaking caricature of himself.

"Lucifer told me."

"What did he say about it?"

"Just that you two were trying to get me back and you let him touch your soul." Dean thought it wise to leave out how contentedly engrossed Lucifer had seemed with that memory.

"Let him?!" Sam scoffed. "I thought he was Cas, and I knew he didn't have enough power for the spell. I could have lost both you and him. I remembered he had once touched Bobby's soul as a power-up. I offered the same. He started laughing, then his voice changed, and he said he didn't know why he was sparing me because he only needed you, and that maybe it was because I was 'like the girl who kept turning him down at the prom'." The words rushed out before Sam could stop them. "He said he would touch my soul because I asked so nicely and that he'd let the power kill me, and then he'd lie to you about what happened, pretending to still be Cas… Then he shoved his hand inside me and I felt his grace invading me and trying to drain me, trying to rip me apart from the inside. Only Cas stopped him, and just barely." Sam's chest was heaving and he struggled to regain his breath.

Dean was silent, imagining the absolute terror of the situation. And Sam hadn't let on at all! He'd even asked Dean if he wanted to talk about what happened on the submarine! God, what else was Sam hiding?

"Di-did he tell you anything else?" Sam asked fearfully.

Dean eyed his brother suspiciously. "No, but should he have? Has he done anything else?"

Sam shook his head and once more turned away from Dean. He picked up his pencil as if he were about to return to work.

"C'mon, Sam, talk to me, please. What's going through that big ol' head of yours right now?"

Sam shook minutely and Dean could see how strained all his muscles were, like he was trying to prevent himself from exploding. The pencil cracked in his hand and he whimpered as it snapped against him. He moved to hold himself up on the counter and Dean recognized the pose: Sam was going to collapse in five, four, three…

Dean lunged forward and caught Sam as he began to slide down. There was no surface devoid of cursed objects upon which to place his brother so he awkwardly spun Sam and brought him down to the ground, allowing his back to rest on a cabinet.

"Talk to me, come on. What's the worst thing about all of it?"

Sam focused on breathing deeply for a few moments before opening his mouth. "I don't even know. I can't tell if it's worse that I had to rescue him or the fact that he's living in our goddam house. Any second, I might turn the corner and he could be there, looking at me, smiling, just itching to hurt me. Can you even imagine what that's like? I suffered for centuries, centuries!, at his hands, was violated every way imaginable, over and over again, and then I have to go rescue him? He's torn me apart more times that I can even count but out of everyone on this God-forsaken planet it was me! I had to drag his crippled ass out of there and put him in the car, drive while he rode shotgun in your Baby, all the while wearing Cas, and—" He stopped to suck in a much-needed breath.

Tears were sliding down his face now and Dean went to put a comforting arm around his baby brother. And was shocked when Sam scooted away from him and shot up, his expression bordering on hysterical. "God, Dean, it's all my fault, all of this is my fault… Just lock me up with these other cursed objects, it's for your own good!" He grabbed a pair of golden handcuffs and held them out to Dean along with his exposed wrists.

Dean rose to meet Sam's eyes. "What are you talking about? How is this your fault?" He needed to calm Sam down now.

"All of it! I used the Book of the Damned, which got Charlie killed, to free you from the Mark. And that released the Darkness. Then I was stupid and arrogant enough to think that God would reach out to me, talk to me! But, of course, it was just Lucifer, like it's always been, and I went down to Hell, even when you told me not to, and played right into his hands. And then Cas said 'yes' to save us, but he wouldn't have been there if I hadn't been such a gullible idiot! Lucifer being here at all is my fault, both times, as Chuck so neatly pointed out, so I don't really deserve your sympathy!" Sam was practically shouting now, his agitation consuming him.

Dean didn't even know where to start. Sam had seemed pretty calm, even when interacting with Lucifer. He'd known all of this must be difficult for Sam, but he had not been expecting the full-on breakdown occurring before him now. How had he let it get this bad?

"Sam, okay, first off, it was my choice to take on the Mark. You were just doing what anyone else would to save a loved one."

"You know that's not true." Sam interrupted, his trembling hands at least back by his sides.

"Let me finish," Dean ordered. "The Darkness—we didn't even know if that was real. And how could you have known that it was Lucifer? We've faced so much shit, it didn't surprise me that you thought it was God. Honestly, I was hoping it was. Cas's decision was his choice. No one, besides maybe Lucifer, forced him into it. We'll kick his ass for that when we get him back. And sure Chuck was a little mean with his words there, but on the other hand, he could have stopped all of this and didn't. I say the buck stops with him. You and me, Sam, we're doing the best we can in this fucked up world. I don't fault you one bit."

Sam was staring at him with wide eyes, tears streaming down his face, looking every ounce the little boy that Dean had raised, his faith unerringly planted in his big brother. Sam looked so vulnerable, so broken, and Dean had to remind himself to breathe. He realized now that he had never given Sam enough credit for just how damn strong he was.

Sure, the kid had grown up in the life and endured more horrors than any child should have to face, but it never slowed Sam down. He had still followed his dream of college, regardless of the difficulties he encountered both with his family and their lifestyle. He'd lost Jess, lost their father, dealt with supernatural visions and the curse of demon blood. He had died, survived Dean's trip downstairs, even managed to turn being Lucifer's vessel into a world-saving act. He'd been tortured for almost two hundred years but survived soul-shattering damage that was enough to drive an angel insane. He'd taken on the challenge of closing the gates of Hell as one great final act to a life he considered cursed. He'd been able to save Dean from the eternal damnation of the Mark. And despite all his suffering and self-loathing, the kid still had the optimism to hope that God had been talking to him. It was actually kind of endearing. Throughout it all, Sam strived to be a conduit for good, as if to spite his destiny condemning him to evil. How could he possibly fault his bleeding heart little brother?

Dean slowly stepped forward and placed firm hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sam, I need you to listen me, closer than ever before. You amaze me. Ever since you were little, I admired your curiosity, your intelligence, your determination. If you wanted an answer, goddammit, nothing was going to stop you. And you've grown up to be nothing short of brilliant and full of so much perseverance that it's pretty humbling."

Sam arched his eyebrows, not following Dean's logic.

"See, you're so damn strong that unless you're basically bleeding out in front of me, I don't always know how much you're hurting, I don't remember how much God awful shit you've been through. I don't realize how much of an effect Satan being around is having on you because you don't let it show how much it bothers you. You know what that says about you? That you are the toughest sonuvabitch we've ever come across and I don't give you enough credit for that. You've been through lifetimes worth of horrible evil but that doesn't stop you from going out there and fighting the good fight! Don't you get it, Sam? You are so fucking incredible and stronger than you even know. So yeah, if Lucifer being here is giving you the heebie-jeebies, you have every right to that and you can do whatever you want about it. What you don't get to do is hide it from me and act like everything is okay. Got it?"

Dean didn't even bother wiping away the moisture in his own eyes as he searched Sam's face for any hint of acceptance. Sam's snotty sob answered him and his giant little brother buried his face into Dean's neck. Dean reciprocated the tight arms wrapped around him and held Sam, determined to hold him as long as he needed. Dean rubbed soothing circles on the small of his back and waited as the tension eased out of his coiled muscles.

Sam stood shaking against Dean for a few minutes before he collected himself to the occasional snivel. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into Dean's hair.

"Uh-uh, you don't get to apologize. Not for this, not for anything else going on here. Okay?"

Sam nodded as he pulled out of Dean's embrace and wiped his face on his sleeve before shyly looking up (how was the man taller than Dean but looking up at him?!).

"First things first, you are not going anywhere without me. No being alone with Lucifer. I'm gonna be with you from here on out. And when I go take a leak, either you stand outside the bathroom or Chuck is there. I'm not letting that psycho near you for one more second."

Sam dipped his head in agreement before looking back to Dean, still somewhat unsure.

"Second, you don't get to beat yourself up for any of this. So when you start thinking that, let me know and I'll punch it out of you."

Sam huffed a little in amusement and the tiny smile on his face was like oxygen to Dean.

"Third, you try to hide what you're going through again, with something as big as this, and you're gonna find a whole lot of Nair in your shampoo bottle."

As predicted, this drew more of a reaction from Sam. "You wouldn't dare!" he exclaimed, playfully pushing Dean back. "It's taken me years to get this glorious mane!"

"Yeah, mane is one word for it…" Dean grumbled but smiled internally at Sam's red-eyed bitchface. "And last thing?"

Sam's face softened as he moved in a little closer towards his brother. "Yeah?"

"If you ever, ever think that you're not worth it, think of all the good you've done in the face of so much evil. Hell, just think of where'd I'd be without you."

Sam's lips curled into his mouth and his eyes watered once again as he considered the weight of Dean's affirmation. He felt his throat close as he tried to say 'thanks.'

Dean smiled, knowing what he meant to express. "Any time, little brother." Dean turned to leave then spun to face Sam. "And no more one-on-one time with the cursed objects, alright?"

Sam slowly nodded repeatedly, as if mulling the suggestion over. "Probably a good idea," he muttered. He shut off the light as he followed his big brother out of the room, the brother he had somehow forgotten loved him above all else.

And nothing could take that away from him.