He was…ruined.

Wrecked

Destroyed

Utterly incapable of dealing with the current reality that had been broadcast through his brain. Whoever had decided that giving him visions once again, whether it was God or not, had a fascinating sense of humor. Really they did.

Sam let out a laugh from his seat at the kitchen table, his hands clenching around the now empty glass of rum. Leaning back in his seat, he pondered. The room was bright, too bright and slightly blurred. No doubt from the booze, but as much work that there had to be done, the next big bad that had to be dealt with, he didn't have it in him to care tonight. Not tonight.

Releasing the glass, he looked at his palms and inspected the pale skin. Making sure to take into account the even paler scar that was still on his left hand. Sam blinked and slowly dragged his other thumb across the curvature. It didn't hurt, didn't ache. But it was there, it was real.

Was it actually the cage? Was it…could it be him?

Pressing his thumb harshly into his palm, Sam exhaled deeply, stared upwards and leaned his elbows on the table.

The rum had him less on edge now; less inclined to feel like he was falling apart again. Like his world wasn't his own and every action was somehow orchestrated by an outside force.

He was real, he was real. Dean had reassured him of that months ago, but now…

Now he was having visions again. About the cage. How could he be so sure that it wasn't Lucifer or Michael sending him messages? Maybe releasing the Darkness had somehow affected the structure of the cage and its inhabitants.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely

The Darkness was the original corruption, the original evil, Gods damn sister.

Sam laughed at the thought. It was so strange, to think that Amara and God had been siblings. It was comparable to his and Dean's sibling-ship. He was the one who was destined for the devil, and Dean had always been destined for the angels.

But now, he didn't know. If God was truly sending him visions, then why would it be him and not Dean? He was the one that had been corrupted since the beginning. It just didn't make any sense.

Damn visions.

Slowly standing up, he made his way over to the cabinet and poured another drink. Watching as a few drops sloshed out of the glass and fell onto the counter in slow motion. It was dark. Looked like blood.

Blood was going to be spilt; that much he knew. Blood was always spilt and there was no way to stop the flow this time. They were in deep. Deeper than ever before.

A year ago he was trying to cure his brother from being a demon, and now, now they were dealing with the absolution corruption of existence. And he was having visions again.

Taking a sip and feeling the alcohol burn a path down his throat, Sam gave a small snort of disbelief.

It looked like Billie was right, obviously. Obviously he was unclean and still had demon blood in him that was giving him the visions. He was unclean still; he wouldn't ever be free of the taint that had stained his soul.

Downing the rest of his drink with a grim face, Sam slammed the glass down and took a deep breath while staring at the counter.

"Goddammit."

This was not the plan. It wasn't his plan. After he had cured Dean, and finally gotten rid of the Mark things were supposed to be normal. They were supposed to be a team. They weren't at the moment, because he knew Dean was hiding something. Could see it in the careful lines of his face when he talked. Not that he wasn't hiding anything himself, just not telling the full truth or what exactly his visions were of.

The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, which book did you say you wanted me to look at? I can't find it in the library."

Sam lifted his head and flicked some of the hair out of his face. His brother was standing at the entrance of the kitchen with a slight frown. Everything was still slightly blurred.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Are you drunk?"

Sam blinked a few times and let out a laugh. "Am I…am I drunk? M'mm dunno I thought that was the coping mechanism that helped with…stuff."

"Dude, I thought you wanted to put down Amara as quick as possible? Getting liquored isn't going to help the process."

"I dunno bro, do you?"

Sam leaned against the island, staring his brother down. He could be quite the hypocrite when he wanted to be.

"Cause I know you're hiding something, and it's about her. I'm not as naïve as you give me credit for Dean, I thought by know you'd understand that I know when something is up with you. Jesus, it's not like we're brothers or anything right? Cause apparently you think I'm stupid enough, me, that I'd for one second believe the bull you are displaying."

His brother raised an eyebrow with a small grin.

"Did it take you all night to think up that little speech Sammy?"

Sam gaped, "S'not funny Dean! I'm having visions of the Cage and you're connected to Amara!"

He stared intently as his brother, blinking against the lights coming from the other room.

"And it's too bright."

Dean sighed, "I guess more than all night eh? C'mon lets go sit down and talk about this."

Sam crossed his arms, murmuring "Why don' you go sit down and talk about it."

The eldest Winchester sighed once more, and looked upwards as if the nonexistent God his brother was searching for would give him strength.

"Come on Sam, I'll explain everything once you go sit down. I swear."

"Yeah, yeah not holdin' my breath here."