I felt as though I was on fire. And yet I was strapped to a block of ice. The exposed parts of my skin that touched the ice were turning a purple blue, and they felt dead. My breath came out in hot, thick white fogs. My lungs felt dry as bone every time I tried to suck in a breath of air. A laugh echoed through the white room.
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." Nick/Lucifer's voice said softly. I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew it was him. I didn't have to open my eyes. And yet I did anyway. He came out the corner, still wearing Nick as his meat suit, just as I thought. His snake like tongue flicked in and out of his mouth, and his bright blue eyes glimmered with something I had never seen before. And I was too scared to find out.
"Stay away from me!" I yelled. It rang through out the room, echoing several times before an eerie quiet settled in. And then he reached for me. His hands, colder than the ice below me, trailed up my torso, which I now realized was bare except for the hundreds of tiny cuts. They stung when he touched them. I shivered, grinding my teeth together to keep from screaming. And then his tongue flicked out again and he licked my face. I couldn't take it anymore. I unlocked my jaw and screamed. I thrashed around and I kicked, but Lucifer was stronger. His hold on my hips was unbreakable. He climbed on tip of me, licking all my wounds. A pain stronger than anything I've ever known rippled through me, and I screamed and screamed. After a while I just sat still. I couldn't open my mouth, couldn't scream. I was too scared, and I was too weak. I didn't move as he touched me. I couldn't.
"Sam! Sam, ya idjit, wake up!" This was not Lucifer. I was being shaken now, and not by cold, strong hands, but by normal, rough ones. The smell of whiskey wafted to my nose, and I jolted up, springing out of bed. I blinked sever all times, taking in quick, panicked breaths. Bobby. He was standing over me, a look of concern clouding his features.
"Bobby." I breathed, getting up and walking shakily over to the kitchen. This wasn't the first time I had dreamed of my time down in hell. And every dream is more real and more terrifying to then the last. My hand shook as I drowned the bottle of beer.
"You sure got a set of lungs on you, boy. I'm surprised your brother didn't wake up." Bobby said, watching my every move.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You were screamin' your head off down there." Bobby said. He went over and put a hand on my shoulder. I jumped. "You sure you okay? You can tell us if you're not." He said. I stared at him for a moment. This was Bobby, for the love of God. I could tell him.You good for nothing little shit. Said the voice in my mind. You really thing Bobby cares? All you've don't is cause a lot of bad things to happen. You're no good for them. Die already. I believed the voice. This had been happening a lot lately. Once I figured out how to temporarily stop the lucifer hallucinations, a new voice came up a lot that just wouldn't go away. And I didn't try to make it go away. Because it was right. I put on the best smile I could and slipped on my shoes.

"I'm fine Bobby. Nothing to worry about. Just a bad dream." I said. I grabbed my knife and my gun. "I think I just need to go for a walk." I grabbed my phone and walked out. I don't know if bobby said anything after I left or not. I walked for maybe an hour before the voice came back. I SAID KILL YOURSELF YOU USELESS, GOOD FOR NOTHING, FREAK! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE. The voice screamed. Without realizing it, is as crying. I went into an old where house and curled up in one of the corners, trying to get the voice to go away. Or are you forgetting what you've done? Nothing good, that's for sure. Lets take a look. You killed mom. You killed jess. You brought on the apocalypse and sprung Lucifer out if the opened the gates of hell. Killed innocent people. Said yes to the devil. And then you go and forget your soul in hell, so poor old Dean has to go through the trouble of finding it for you. You ripped him away from Lisa and Ben. You're a monster. A freak. And abomination. Stab yourself. Is what you deserve. I shook my head, trying to stop the crying.
"You're right." I whispered finally. "I'm not good for anything." I took out the blade. A single beam of moon light shone in and reflected off the blade. I could see my red rimed eyes staring back at me. They were filled with fear. DO IT. "What about Dean? He needs me." I said shakily. He doesn't need you. He never did. He thinks you're worthless, and you always cause trouble.

"I want to say goodbye." I pulled out my phone. And then, after a few cuts on my side and hot tears later, I called him.
"Sammy? Where are you? Why aren't you asleep?" Deans sleepy voice said through the phone.
"Dean." I said. There must of been something in my voice, because his voice sounded panicked when he answered.
"Sammy? What's going on? Where are you?"
"Dean...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
"Sammy?! You listen to me, Sam-"
"I'm sorry that you had to watch over me as a kid. You had to grow up too fast and you missed out on a lot. I'm sorry you didn't have any friends because of me. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused. Sorry that Cas is gone and its all my fault. That you had to leave Lisa and Ben because of me."
"Sam-"
"I promise you that you won't have to do it anymore. You won't have to protect me."
"Sam, stay where you are. I'm coming to get you." I could hear the car starting through the phone. Damn. I forgot he could track my phone.
"Dean...please don't stop me. I'm sorry." I said.
"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you Sam?! Please-" I hung up. For a long time I sat there, staring down at the knife, contemplating wheater I should do it or not. They'll get over it. I drove the knife in.

...

was I dead? No. I wish I was. Dean was staring at me, unblinking. I was breathing normal. Which was good, I guess. When I stabbed myself, my head hit a metal crate. So I was in a coma for some time. More things for Dean to worry about. I had needed stitches for some of the cuts I had given myself. Dean didn't tell the nurses that they were self inflicted. I don't think he wanted to believe it himself. I opened my eyes and turned to look at him.
"I'm sor-" I started.
"Please don't Sammy." He said softly. "Don't say you're sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for."