It was dark out. You could hear the screams through the walls. It was scary.
"What's wrong, champ?" Lucifer said, jumping off the dresser. "I know. It's Cassie, isn't it? He never was the type I coined as a screamer, but I guess I was wrong." Sam closed his eyes, pressing his thumb into his palm. Not like it helped anymore, but it was like a hopeful reflex. "Then again, I always thought you would be the type to perservere, y'know? Against all odds, and all that shit."
Sam got up, walking to the window, trying to focus on anything but the devil behind him. He saw Castiel outside, kneeling against a broken down old truck, his back heaving as he sobbed. He knew he was supposed to feel something but he just couldn't. Everything was just painful, and it had no distinction.
"Look at that prick." Sam jumped. Lucifer was right beside him, loud and invasive. "He thinks he's the only one who ever felt bad. Like he's special because he made a bad choice." He looked up at Sam with those too-pale eyes, and Sam had to bite back the bile that rose in his throat. "We both know that's not right, eh, Sammy?" Sam spu around again, trying to get rid of him. He hadn't slept in days, and he couldn't eat. He wanted to believe this was all n his head but everything was so damn REAL. When Lucifer stormed up to him shouting in his face about gutting his brother, Sam could see the pores and the hairs and each imperfect tooth. When he laughed, it boomed through the room, echoing in the right places. It was too real to not be real.