'Rise and shine, Sammy!'

Sam snapped open his eyes, feeling as though a rock had lodged itself in his stomach at the voice. He glued his eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look sideways to the voice that he dreaded. His breathing hitched and he tried to slow the beating of his heart, but the more he thought about it, the faster it seemed to pump.

Deep breath in, deep breath out...

'Sounds like you're going into labour, Sammy,' sneered the voice. Sam risked a glance out of his peripheral vision and immediately regretted it, the rock in his stomach sinking further into his core.

'One day. Just one fucking day.'

'One day?'

'Leave me alone for one day.'

'Ouch. Tell me what you really think! Oh wait...' Sam could hear the smile in the voice, 'I know exactly what you're thinking.'

Sam, knowing he would never fall back to sleep, sat up, refusing to look to his right as he got out of bed, walking past the figure on the opposite bed.

'Dean's not here,' the voice said and Sam spun around to the news.

'He's gone?' Sam panicked but his companions smile just grew wider.

'You ask me as if I know any better than you. I only know what you know, Sammy boy,' Lucifer grinned, hands on his lap as he watched Sam's face fall. Sam swallowed hard and looked to his hand, pulling off the bandaging.

'Oh come on, you know that little remedy isn't foolproof.'

'You're not real, not real,' Sam muttered to himself, closing his eyes and gasping in pain as the cut in his hand re-opened, blood appearing instantly.

'Honey, I'm very real.'

'No, stop it...' Sam pressed down harder, but Lucifer just grinned wider. Sam was starting to sweat, his hands shaking at the pain and the stress that his mind was putting him under. Lucifer tilted his head, watching.

'Sam, stop it. Just, stop it. Relax kiddo.'

Sam didn't listen but walked out of the room, his legs numbly carrying him downstairs to the dining room. Bobby wasn't there either. Sam started hyperventilating.

They had left him alone with his thoughts. Alone with Lucifer. In his own personal hell.

He heard footsteps and looked around, his heart momentarily fluttering in relief, until it just showed Lucifer, walking from the dining room, holding a rusted machete. Sam backed into the corner, knocking over a bookstand as he looked into the dead blue of Lucifers eyes. Sam held his hand to his chest, blood smearing on his sweaty shirt. He swallowed again, mouth dry and throat stinging.

'Please... please don't...'

Lucifer stroked the blade of the machete, sparks flying.

'I'm truly sorry, Sammy.'

Sam felt his lip tremble and closed his eyes for the onslaught, but it never came. He risked peeking from underneath his messy flop of hair and he was looking to an empty house. He sighed in shaky relief, looking down at his blood stained shirt and hand. He smirked at the empty space in front of him and called out in an unsteady voice, 'And it's Sam, you son of a bitch!'

There was a moment of silence. A sob broke free of Sam's chest, a horrible wailing sound that cracked through his throat, his eyes burning and tears falling freely as he huddled in on himself, hiding his Hell away from the world.