I hardly think a disclaimer is necessary on a website entitle fanfiction, but consider this it.

Un-beta'd, please excuse any minor errors. Typed on mobile and i didn't even reread it to skim for errors honestly.

Reviews are much appreciated, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Set just after they get the other-world refugees through the rift (13x23). I was so glad when they finally covered some stuff with Sam in s13, but also disappointed that it was touched so lightly. The relationship between Sam and Jack is probably my favorite by far, so this story mostly looks into that and Sam's major past traumas. Honestly it's just a big messy ramble of things.-

The life of a hunter has few comforts. Living the life of one of the two destined "chosen ones" or whatever crap Sam and his brother were to the universe had even less. A big part of it though, was constants. There are rules in life, and while they were broken a helluva lot more than is healthy around the Winchesters, a few of them held true-more or less. Usually. Sometimes. Whatever. If a body is salted and burned, you're dead, end of story.

Well okay, maybe Rowena had to go and break that one (and probably Sam and his brother a few times, he stopped keeping track of their deaths awhile ago), but generally it held true.

What's easier than that then? Okay, so the sun rose every morning, it set in the evening. Silver kills werewolves. Vampires won't come back headless. Dean loves pie, porn, his car, and booze. These were the sort of constants that made things easier, or at least provided a shitty, thin little blanket of comfort to fall back on when shit went to hell as it so often did. Does. It was something to expect, to carefully temper hope and drive Sam the tiniest bit less mad than he would go if he didn't have these constants.

Some more constants and rules: Shit can always get weirder. Sam and his brother were always gonna lose someone or something. Not every win is a full win. Evil will exist and run rampant no matter what. Sam and Dean are there for each other, them against the world no matter the rifts between them-whether emotional rifts or the kind that were doors to apocalypse worlds.

One more: Sam cannot forget. Call him an elephant if you want, because he seriously cannot forget things like the details of a thousand repeated Tuesdays, the way an innocent girl burns on the ceiling of an apartment in Palo Alto, the way a surrogate father explodes at the snap of a finger-his fingers, the exact days and forms of death of all the others he's failed, and so much more. Nor the way it feels to fall into the worst of Pits, to look upon the True eyes of biblical evil incarnate, and to be at His "mercy" for over 120 Hell years with nothing but the shreds of a half brothers soul and another archeangel's grace.

Yeah. The Cage was a constant, and a pretty solid one at that. He got his little stint with the Wall and its obliteration, but of course there's always another crisis, another apocalypse to handle. Even though he no longer has vivid hallucinations and psychosomatic (as well as real) injuries thanks to the memories, and while he could function day to day well enough to do his job and work with his brother, he still gags at the smell of burning meat, still flinches at the sight of a blade turned on him (which he's dealt with since he was a preteen), still wakes up in cold sweats with his own screams and cold laugh in his ears (nevermind the other ones featuring loved ones unsaved), still finds himself reflexively pressing his thumb to his palm if he finds himself in a moment of quiet long enough for his mind to settle into old memories, etc. etc. The helplessness, the fear, it never goes away (and nor does the guilt, the shame). He knows how Rowena feels, and he pities her for sharing such a thing with him.

No time to worry about any of that though. People to save, monsters to kill, redemption to seek.

So he's pushed it down. But it's there. It's a constant. Lucifer's face will always be there to greet him when he's alone in the dark.

So when his son is under Sam's very own bunker roof, it is a double-edged sword indeed. It's a familiar grace, a signature Sam is much too intimate with, a familiar presence of power,-only amplified, which is great and obviously helps loads to ease Sam's apprehension-and not to mention a general underlying fear of the kid in general. But Sam sticks to what he does best and pushes it down. Jack is not to be feared, and Sam refuses to allow the reflex fear activated thanks to the very few similarities he has with Lucifer. Jack is not Lucifer, and can hardly be counted his son. Dean wanted to kill him, was only waiting for Jack to "slip up". Hell, he's told it to the kid's face. That's fixed now,but that's another small constant, Dean kills without question, Sam sympathizes and gives second chances. Jack is innocent, and inherent evil is simply nonexistent here, Sam knows this. Besides getting Mary back, Sam wanted Jack to have a handle on his power so that he can stop fearing and hating himself in ways that Sam is all too familiar with. Accidents happen, and it's not Jack's fault that his accidents have Nephilic power attached. Sam has hope for Jack, and he believes in him.

And he hopes this means something. So boy does it hurt a little bit when Jack starts to get attached to Lucifer. Logically, Sam knows that Jack never knew his mother or father, and now he's given the chance and deserves to take it-after all Sam got his with Mary. Just one of many things Sam shares with Jack. So he can't blame him. But damn is it hard to forget the tiny little buzz in his head that's been growing louder ever since he woke with the feeling of teeth in his neck still there, to discover he was alone in a cramped dark place with his old bunkmate again. Surely, after all the bad he's done it only makes sense that his Hell is reliving the cage, but Sam couldn't help that maybe he'd done enough to get some peace after all. Turned out he wasn't dead, but he was in fact stuck with Lucifer for a many hour walk in a dark tunnel, leading him to Jack and all but allowing him to twist up his image in his son's eyes. He doesn't want the boy he's come to care for turned against him, or turned to be like Lucifer. He has faith in Jack, in the family they've all built, but is also aware of how impressionable the sixth month old angelic man is.

So when he pushes Lucifer back, keeps him from entering the rift with the refugees, Sam can't help but feel a good ol' shitload of guilt and shame. Jack was growing fond of his..father, and only just getting to know him-warped version or not. And it made Sam feel like the shit that he knew he was deep down. But he has to do it. It's the plan. It's what's best for his world, for his family, for Jack.

What he didn't count on was Jack overhearing him and Dean and Cas talking about it during the party in the bunker. If the way he was sitting desolate and alone wasn't enough to drag up Sam's guilt and shame, the look of utter betrayal briefly shot his way certainly was. (And damn him for flinching at the familiar brief flash of glowing eyes, for thanking whoever was listening that at least they were several shades lighter.)

But Jack didn't disappear in a rustle of feathers, he stormed by and towards his room, pushing through the crowd. Cas' eyes snapped up and tracked him, realization dawning there, and Dean gave Sam a heavy look.

"It's what needed done Sam, you know that," he growled out a bit sharply. Sam tore his eyes from Jack's retreating form and found Dean's, storming with so much, well, Dean that Sam had to look at the ground.

"I kno-"

"Lying was not what needed done." Castiel broke in. Sam flinched, and glanced up to see Dean open his mouth with verbally murderous intent, to see the resignation in Cas' eyes, before he too, turned and went towards their rooms.

Cas caught Dean by the shoulder, and shook his head once, and Dean, despite it all, stood down.

By the time he got there, the door was shut and Sam could only hope that Jack was still in the bunker. He knocked softly, opened his mouth, and all that came out was a cross between a sigh and a cracked attempt at saying the kids name.

"Go. Away."

And he knew he should, Lucifer taught him well to obey that tone, that oh so familiar tone, but this was important dammit. He knocked again and cracked the door open, took a moment to peer at Jack sitting straight backed on his bed with his knees pulled up, before growing the pair to just walk in.

Jack's eyes snapped up, no glow, and he immediately growled it out. "Why did you leave him? Why did you lie to me?"

"Jack.." Sam stood there helplessly, before finding it in him to perch stiffly on the corner of the bed. "I'm sor-"

"I don't care! I asked why."

Sam blinked and looked down, sighed once, rubbed his eyes. "It was what we, I, thought best." Jack opened his mouth but for once Sam didn't let him get it in. He needed to say this, even though he knew how it'd go. "Lucifer wasn't going to be any good for our world. Jack, I know he's your father and you have every right to approach a relationship with him, but the Lucifer you were getting to know was fake. He was using you. Lucifer cares only for himself and his own interest, and I, nor the others, wanted him having anything to do with you." He held up his hand to stop Jack when he opened his mouth. "I know what your mom said. I know what I said. But the tales Lucifer was spinning to you were half-truths. He'd be no good for humanity. And no good for you. If you-"

Sam could speak over Jack's bubbling emotion no more, and felt a small wave of something pulse in the room before Jack opened his mouth again. "But what gave you the right to make that choice for me? How can you hurt me like this, how can you make a decision based off of senseless hate for someone you've only ever heard tales of? You don't know Lucifer, but he's my father and I was growing to know him. All of you make decisions for me, like I can't handle them. I-I choose what I want to be, and you can't take control of that. I'm not yours to use, and I'm my own person who deserves talking to my father! Stop try-"

But Sam is gone by then, he can't do it. He was scrambling out as soon as Jack said he didn't know Lucifer. If only. The way the door slams behind his with a pulse of orange energy helps nothing, except to put a tiny boost of speed in his step.

The next hour is a blur, Sam knew he was at his mirror, desperately washing his face and gripping the edges of the sink in an attempt to ground himself, to keep from reaching instinctively for his palm. Damn that he's not over this, but when has he had the chance to be, and damn that he's hurt Jack, and-. But he can't let himself think like this, he eventually crashes into bed, definitely forgetting the lamp is still on, and waits for exhaustion to catch up with him so he can quit tossing and turning already. He hopes for a dreamless sleep but knows he won't get that lucky-another rule of the universe.

So when Sam is in the cage that night, tied up with hooks through his arms and legs and blood staining almost every inch of his body, the only surprise is the arrival of a third presence. Fire burns around him and a cold laugh sinks into the background (distantly alarms go off in his head that it's no good if he can't see Lucifer, he doesn't like the surprises the Devil is so fond of), and Sam peers through a haze of pain and sadness and guilt and so much and distantly thinks "Jack?", before fingers press to his temples and with a violent flinch he falls into a brighter place.

It's calm here. A clear lake surrounded by trees. The sky is blue, some fluffy clouds floating lazily by. He thinks he hears birds singing a bit away. He's sitting on the ground in a dirt clearing, and blinks for a second before turning to see a familiar cabin. After checking to make sure there's no rip in the clearing this time, Sam digs his fingers into the soil, grounding himself to run through the usual post-nightmare checklist before remembering what brought him to this place.

He registers he must still be asleep, and turns to find Jack sitting next to him, arms curled around wrapped up legs and foggy eyes staring at something nonexistent over the lake.

"What did you see?" he croaks.

"Everything," Jack's eyes focus but the sad fog is still there, "and more. Memories. I'm sorry."

"No," Sam's voice is the tiniest but stronger now and he realizes he isn't shaking, "I'm sorry you had to see that." Jack needed to know what Lucifer was really like, but having the child find out in such an intimate way was hardly fair.

Jack looks incredulous for a moment, and Sam thinks there's tears in the corners of his eyes. "You're apologizing...for being tortured by my..father, for so long, for going through everything both there and back home because of him, for-"

"I'm sorry for lying to you, and I'm sorry for not being able to protect you, and I'm sorry that you don't have a father to be proud of and have pride for you, and that you couldn't really know your mother."

Jack looks down then, and his arms tighten around his legs. "I shouldn't have said you didn't know him. You do. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jack. You didn't know." And it is dammit because this is Jack and he means so much and can be so much and doesn't deserve what he's already been through, and-

"I don't want to be like him." Jack chokes out, and Sam scoots just a bit closer. "I..i don't want to hurt people. I've failed so many. I'm a monster and-" but he trails off and Sam only catches snippets about power and danger and fear and so much more.

"Jack. I know what it's like." Jack pauses and looks up, and his cheeks are definitely wet now so Sam puts and arm around him and looks out to the lake. "I know what it feels like to be feared and untrusted, to fear yourself and your own future and hurting those you love, to fail people. The guilt and the shame." And God has he been there, ever since the beginning, if not as Lucifer's vessel then as a psychic demon blood junkie, or as a soulless menace. "But it doesn't mean you're evil, or unable to change. We've all done terrible things. You care, and that's why you're good. I forget that about myself..a lot. But my family is there to remind me, to give me hope when I can't hold it for myself. And I want that for you. Dean, Cas, me-we're you're family Jack. We care about you, and we believe in you, and we'll forgive you even when you can't forgive yourself because we know you aren't bad. You are nothing like Lucifer, and you can be your own person and do so much good in this world, and-"

With a whuff of air he's cut off and Jack's arms are around him and his head is buried into his chest. Sam wraps his arms around Jack, holding him tight. He can feel the tremors rippling through his back and shoulders. "You've nothing to apologize for. We love you, Jack, and we all believe in you."

Jack nods against him, and everything starts to melt away until it all suddenly snaps away and the weight nestled against him is exchanged for fingers pressed to his temples and a strong grip on his shoulders.

"-my. Sammy!" A shake. His eyes snap open, he can almost feel the gold slip from his temples, Dean is in his face now, relief plastered all over his expression. He glances and Cas is gently tugging a shaken Jack away, and then before Dean can do his thing Sam grabs for Jack and tugs him into a hug. Dean is bewildered, Cas definitely confused, but all Sam does is free an arm from around Jack to tug on Cas' sleeve and pull Dean into the hug (damn him if he gets out of it to grumble about chick-flick moments, Sam will have this, Jack will have this), and then all four are wrapped up together. Cas and Dean are still confused, but don't pull away. They're arms join the mess of a hug too, when they realize Jack is shaking and probably crying and that Sam, too, has tears in his eyes and for once in so long feels like maybe he can breathe, maybe he can work through this finally and help Jack along the way.

But for now it's just a hug, and not one of them fails to feel the comfort of safety and home and hell, love, and Sam remembers another constant.

Family don't end in blood, and they will always be there for each other, no matter what.