Author's Note: Bonjour, my friends. I hope everyone has been well.

I'm very sporadic with updates, I know. Not that anyone cares.

I just have more motivation to watch Netflix than to write sometimes, but I will try to remedy that. I'm re-watching Supernatural, and I don't want to go to fast. Better to savor those lovely Winchesters, right? And how about that 12th season?!

That finale was unacceptable.

But I digress.

So I know how I once said that I would never write anything too violent, sexual, or dark.

Welp, I changed my mind.

Everything will be properly rated and ample warnings will be given in the author's notes.

So for this one:

Warnings: Dark, violent, mature themes. Suicidal thoughts, self-harming, substance abuse. IF ANY OF THIS WOULD BOTHER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

Set when Lucifer was tormenting Sam but he never cut his hand.

Always Keep Fighting. You Are Not Alone. You Are Enough.

Without further ado...

Sam was roughly shaken awake. Instantly alert, he shot upright, grasping for the knife he had placed on the nightstand. Sam blinked the sleep out of his eyes, searching for the danger.

His gaze fell on two beady eyes glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the window. Though he lowered his knife, Sam did not relax.

Lucifer grinned maliciously at Sam's disheveled state, his teeth adding another bar of reflecting light.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Lucifer yelled, knowing full well Sam was the only one who could hear him.

Sam fell back against his pillow with a low groan, not wanting to wake Dean, who was snoring in the other bed.

"Oh, come on!" Lucifer hopped onto the bed beside Sam and reclined against the headboard. "Don't be like that! Let's have some fun! It's boring to just watch you sleep."

Sam glanced at the clock. Damn, 3:23 am. He scrubbed at his eyes, wishing that he could just rub the image of Lucifer away.

But when he looked back, Lucifer was still there, beaming at him.

"So, whadda ya say?" Lucifer nudged Sam with his elbow. "Truth or Dare?"

Sam knew it would be useless to tell Lucifer to leave him alone. The angel appeared and disappeared whenever he felt like it. Lucifer probably enjoyed tormenting Sam in person just as much as he liked knowing that Sam was always on edge waiting for him to appear.

"No?" Lucifer frowned. "Ah, I get it. You just woke up, probably want to shower or something.

That's cool. I'll just wait here." He crossed his arms and leaned his head back.

For lack of anything better to do, Sam swung out of bed. He grabbed clothes from his duffle, taking care to be quiet.

He padded softly to the small bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. Sam had a lot of experience with motel showers, and he knew that they often took several minutes to warm up to a comfortable temperature, so he turned the knob all the way onto hot and stripped.

Lucifer started to sing Old McDonald in Sam's head. The devil was purposefully missing every pitch, his voice grinding against Sam's brain.

Impatiently, Sam went to check the water's progress. All he wanted was to step under the calming jet and attempt to find some sort of relaxation. Expecting it to still be lukewarm if not chilly, Sam stuck his whole hand under the faucet.

The water was scalding. Sam yanked his hand back, stifling a cry of pain. He inspected his palm, wincing at the angry, red mark across his hand. Sam braced himself for one of Lucifer's wracking, resounding laughs to echo through his head.

But nothing happened.

Sam waited, massaging his stinging palm. Still Lucifer made no noise. The painful Old McDonald rendition had ceased. Confused, Sam opened the bathroom door as silently as he could and peeked his head out.

Lucifer had disappeared. And this was different from the times he just left to mess with him, Sam could feel it. Usually he could sense a taunting presence, but this...

Sam stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hurriedly, he fixed the water to a more comfortable setting and took a shower in peace. When he was done, he toweled off, redressed, and went back outside.

It wasn't even 4 am yet, and Dean was sure to keep sleeping for a few hours, so Sam pulled on his jacket and slipped out of the motel room. He needed some fresh air to figure out his new findings.

Sam walked about four blocks and found a bench at the town square. He sank onto it. After checking again that he couldn't sense Lucifer, Sam let himself fully absorb what had happened.

Looking down at his hand, which still stung slightly, Sam knew that he had found a solution to keep Lucifer at bay. Finally after weeks and weeks of torment, he had an out. But it wasn't one he liked.

Pain kept the devil away.

Sam didn't like that one bit. He knew that it meant injuring himself on purpose

And Sam had sworn to himself that he would never do that again. He knew that once he started hurting himself, he wouldn't be able to stop. It had been hard enough the first time.

Sam had been in one of the darkest places he'd ever known. He'd allowed himself to be corrupted by Ruby and her demon blood. He'd started the Apocalypse. The world was going to end, billions of innocent people were going to die, and it was all his fault.

The blade against his skin was his punishment. The beads of blood were an atonement.

Sam was broken. He was damaged.

And that's how he went into the Cage: covered in the scars he had hidden from everyone. Even Dean. Especially Dean.

When he was pulled from the Cage, Sam's scars were gone and so was his soul. Sam didn't remember much about being soulless, but from what he was told he was an uncaring, arrogant, killing machine.

Upon getting his soul back, his remorse from what he had done before the Cage and what he had done while soulless almost drove Sam back to his dark place.

Sam was determined never to go there again, so he threw himself back into hunting and into a bit too much alcohol at times. And he won his fight.

But then the walls that had been placed in his mind started crumbling down.

And there he was. Torn. Torn between allowing himself relief by going back down a road he had promised never to walk again and having to deal with Lucifer's constant, agonizing torment.

A sharp, malicious cackle made Sam jump.

"Sammy! Sammy!" Lucifer taunted in Sam's mind. The devil kept chanting, each word slamming against Sam's head like a hammer.

Sam made his decision. Bringing out the knife he kept stowed in his jacket pocket, Sam flipped open the blade.

Sam thanked whoever was listening that it was the middle of winter, so it wouldn't be out of place for him to wear long sleeves. Pulling up the sleeve of his jacket, Sam promised himself that this would only be a temporary fix. He would keep trying to find another way. He wouldn't go too deep, or do too many, and he had to make sure to do it where Dean wouldn't notice.

Lucifer started to scream. Tears streaming down his face, Sam raised the blade and pressed it against the skin of his forearm.

He dragged the blade across his skin, gritting his teeth as he felt blood start to trickle slowly down his arm.

When he stopped, Sam leaned back, looking up at the stars.

He felt at peace, but he knew it wouldn't last for long.