One would think Sam would get used to this after God knows how long it's been going on now.
Or, well, God probably doesn't know. As far as Sam knows, God doesn't really care anymore.
He's so tired his head hurts and he gets dizzy whenever he moves, he hasn't really eaten anything since he got here and he just wants Lucifer to stop. For one minute. Please.
Either he's been talking out loud or it's because Lucifer is in his head anyway, but the devil pauses in his movement of lighting another firecracker and beams at him. "Aw," he coos, "what is it?" He gets up and saunters over toward the bed. "Are you tired, Sammy?"
Sam gives him an agonised look and curls onto his side, facing away from Lucifer. "Don't call me that," he murmurs, and then pleads: "Will you just let me sleep? You're driving me crazy."
Lucifer chuckles behind him. "Oh, I think we're well past that point by now, don't you? But if it means so much to you..." Another cackle, and then he starts to sing. "Hush little Sammy, please don't cry, Lucie's gonna sing you a lullaby..."
Sam feels like crying right then. He pulls the pillow over his head and squeezes his burning eyes shut, but it's no use. Lucifer is in his mind, after all.
He lets out a startled cry as the pillow suddenly starts feeling hot against his skin and the stench of smouldering fabric fills his nose. He jerks upright and flings it across the room, shaking his hands out because he can feel the blisters forming already, and his head snaps up when he hears a surprised huff from where he threw the burning pillow (except it wasn't really burning, was it, but his knee-jerk reaction of getting it away from him was too instinctive to suppress).
His eyes widen and he scoots back against the headboard. Lucifer has gone suspiciously silent all of sudden.
"That's just not fair," Sam whimpers, glancing over at the devil. "Please, that's just... don't. Please just don't." Before he can answer, the newcomer does.
"Well, I hadn't expected you to throw me a party, but this is a little harsh."
"Stop it, please," the hunter begs quietly, staring at Gabriel instead of Lucifer now.
Gabriel, who looks so unfairly alive, and of course his subconscious would dig out his guilt complexes for this. He should have expected it sooner, if he was perfectly honest.
The archangel takes a step forward and the door swings shut at the same moment, locking them in. Sam jumps at the sound and presses himself tighter against the headboard.
"Sam?" Gabriel inquires carefully. Lucifer watches, silent.
Sam buries his hands in his hair and tugs, trying to will them both away, squeezing his eyes shut. "Stop," he whispers. "Just stop. Let me sleep. Don't... don't do this, it's not fair."
"Nothing is ever fair, is it?" Lucifer responds gleefully, and Sam nearly screams when there's a hand curling around his own, gently prying his fingers away from tangled strands of hair. He glances up at Gabriel, who is staring back with a concerned frown, and Lucifer croons from the side: "But I'm being nice, aren't I? You like him."
Gabriel meets Sam's gaze and then suddenly, his head snaps over to where Lucifer sits, eyes widening, and a little "oh" slips past his lips.
Whatever hope Sam may have secretly been holding that this might not be his subconscious playing tricks on him evaporates and he pushes uselessly at Gabriel, trying to dislodge his position on the bed.
"Get off me," he snaps as harshly as he can manage, though it sounds pathetic even to his own ears. "You're not real. Just leave me alone, why can't you just let me sleep?"
"Sam," Gabriel whispers, "Sam, I'm real. Look at me. I am."
"Yeah, right," the hunter scoffs. "He looks real, too, and he's in my head. If you weren't, you wouldn't even be able to see him." He jerks his head at Lucifer, who has malicious joy written all over his features.
Gabriel's eyes follow the movement and Sam curls his hands around the lapels of the archangel's jacket, intending to push him away, but he ends up clinging to it desperately because he knows Gabriel is fake, he does, but even a hallucinated dead archangel is better company than Lucifer.
"I'm real, Sam," Gabriel insists and Sam smiles at him defeatedly.
"Don't bother," he mutters.
Lucifer leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Well, you wouldn't talk to me, so I needed some company and playing Dean just isn't as fun. Don't you agree, brother mine?"
"Don't listen to him," Gabriel murmurs. His hands are warm where they're resting over Sam's and the hunter closes his eyes, resigned. Somehow, it is easier when the voices in his head agreed they want to make his life miserable; them arguing about it is plainly exhausting.
He's biting the inside of his cheek, hard, but the pain has stopped keeping Lucifer at bay and it doesn't help against Gabriel, either. Gabriel, who has died because he and Dean have forced him back into a life he hated, who died like Jo and Ellen and all the others who were caught up in the mess they caused by breaking the seals.
He feels his chest seizing, contracting, like there's something pressing down on him and there's not enough air in the room. The pressure makes it impossible to draw a full breath. Lucifer's taunting voice rings in his head and Gabriel still hasn't disappeared, kneeling in front of him while Sam gasps with increasingly shorter and shallower breaths, tears stinging in his eyes and burning on his cheeks.
"Please," he chokes out, "please, Lucifer, not this –"
"Sam," Gabriel cuts in insistently, his hands vanishing from Sam's and instead moving to cup his cheeks, forcing the hunter to look at him, his vision blurry. "You're having a panic attack. Breathe."
"Not real," Sam gasps at him, struggling weakly. He's halfway sure there's someone banging at the door, but it might just be the pounding of his head, too.
"I am," Gabriel answers once again. "The only reason I can see Lucifer is that I'm reading your mind."
"Oh, you're no fun," the devil mutters from his side of the room. "You find that believable, Sammy?"
Sam has to gulp in a few hasty breaths before he can even think of replying. Before he gets that far, Gabriel's fingers press into his temples and Lucifer's voice fades out, just like his image does.
"Real or not," the archangel still left in the room argues, "we both agree you need oxygen, yes? Breathe with me."
Sam's first few tries are ragged and stilted, but Gabriel keeps taking deep breaths in front of him, waiting patiently and after a minute or two, he's down to something that is still hectic, but a lot less closer to hyperventilating than before. His head still hurts, pounds, really, and –
Hold on.
"There's someone at the door," he slurs and Gabriel breaks eye contact to glance over his shoulder.
"I guess there is," he murmurs.
The door swings open and Marin stumbles in, looking like she hasn't expected it to give: "Sam, are you al– who the hell are you?"
Sam's eyes widen and he stares at Gabriel. "You can see him?" he demands breathlessly.
She sends a concerned frown his way. "Wha– yes, of course I can see him," she answers. "What's going on? Should I be calling anybody?"
Sam is staring at the archangel, his mind too busy to come up with a reply for her right now. "You're alive," he breathes. "You're real."
"You've lost it," Marin states, matter-of-factly.
"Old news," Sam mutters back at her.
He's busy staring at Gabriel, not daring to tear his eyes away because if he does, this might turn out to be a dream after all and he'll wake up to Lucifer laughing his imaginary ass off. Although that would mean he has slept, which would be something at least, and...
"Would you stop thinking already?" Gabriel asked, his hands dropping from Sam's face as he shuffles up the bed to lean against the headboard next to the hunter. "Sorry, would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?" he asks Marin, giving her a pleasant smile. "Don't rat me out, will ya?
She... stares for a moment, seemingly contemplating whether Sam's hallucinations are contagious or something. Then, she meets Sam's eyes and he gives her a nod – maybe it's a horrible idea, but to be honest, he can't muster up the energy to worry much. He just wants to know what's going on. More than that, he wants to sleep.
Marin, glancing back and forth between the two of them, nods eventually. "I don't think I even want to know," she decides. Then, she turns on her heel and leaves his room, closing the door behind herself softly.
Sam has long since gone back to staring at Gabriel. "How are you here?" he demands, softly like speaking louder might shatter the illusion.
The archangel places a hand on his shoulder gently and Sam lets him push him down onto the mattress, squirming as he settles in.
"Sleep," Gabriel orders gently. "We'll talk once you caught a few hours."
Sam's head ends up on the archangel's lap, but despite his exhaustion, he suddenly feels like he's ready to fall asleep.
"I don't– I don't think Lucifer is going to let me," he confesses in a whisper.
Sure, he might be gone for now, but so far, he's always been back. Sam is surprised the devil stayed away for this long; maybe it is to taunt him with Gabriel's presence, get his hopes up – but no, Gabriel is real, they've established that. Sam tries not to doubt it.
"Is there an award for overthinking, because I might have to nominate you," Gabriel sighs, running a hand through the hunter's hair. "I can keep Lucifer at bay for now. It's not permanent and it means I have to be in your head, which I hope you don't mind, but you need the rest. No offence, but you look like hell." He winces. "Sorry, bad choice of words. But the point still stands."
A little warily, Sam tries to relax. He can feel Gabriel's fingers in his hair, carding his fingers through the slightly tangled strands carefully.
He still doesn't get how Gabriel can be here because they saw the DVD, after all – then again, that is the only thing they saw, it isn't like any of them stuck around to watch how Gabriel's encounter with his older brother played out.
"Can't trick the Trickster," Gabriel comments cheerily, which means he's still in Sam's head. Maybe he ought to be offended, but him being there means Lucifer isn't, so that's okay for now. "Thank you," the archangel murmurs.
The soothing motions never stop and Sam's eyelids begin to droop, shut almost against his own volition, especially when Gabriel begins to hum something that sounds vaguely Norse.
For the first time in days, Sam drifts off to sleep without jerking back upright in panic.
He doesn't dream.