A/N: Quite a few people wanted follow-up to 12x02, so I was finally able to produce! I know there are a ton of episode fics for that one already, so I feel a little inadequate with this, but hopefully it's what you guys were looking for. So this one's for reannablue, valdezy, Naivaraeladrin, and daisyschmitt7 Not sure I quite covered each individual thing you guys wanted, but I tried to get the gist across!

Enjoy!


Rewind


There was a ringing in his ears, that hadn't stopped since he was last electrocuted. Sam gazed blearily around his dark prison, trying to decide if it was worth anymore pain. He had given up before, long ago, but that had been in an attempt to thwart the plans of Lucifer. To do so now . . . it was too close to a betrayal of what Dean would have wanted, and echoed from when Dean had first gone to hell for Sam.

The door opened, and Sam watched it from where he was sitting on the floor. Leg tight and hot with the beginnings of infection, other foot vulnerable from his burns—he was going nowhere.

"Don't move."

Sam didn't respond, staring warily at Toni as she walked down the stairs with a gun pointed at him.

"Are you done yet?" he asked after a pause.

"That depends, are you finally ready to talk?"

Sam smiled. "What do you think?"

Her calm face twisted a little. "You aren't gaining anything by resistance. You do realize that, do you not?"

"She's doing this all wrong. When I had you, I found it was best to not even worry about results. You broke much faster when you realized there was no point, that the torture would never stop."

Sam pressed a thumb into his hand, unsurprised when it didn't do anything. Lucifer chuckled from his perch near the broken mirror.

Toni tossed him a zip tie. "Hands."

"And if I don't?" he murmured.

Her smile was tight. "Well, we both know what happened last time you underestimated whether I would shoot you or not."

"And if I don't care?" Sam stared at her, letting his weariness show. "My brother is dead. You have nothing you can take away from me anymore."

Toni's face twitched.

"You should just kill her," Lucifer suggested. "And if she kills you in the process, that'll be good too. You can come home."

"The hard way," Toni said. She picked up the cattle prod again. Sam couldn't help flinching back in an attempt to avoid it, but she was quick, and pain and exhaustion had dulled Sam's reflexes. He fell to the ground at the relentless shock.

There was a shot. Sam flinched at what he expected—a new hole in his body somewhere, or death if he was lucky. Instead, there was a shout, and the cattle prod disappeared.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer tsked. "You're so weak."

Sam's vision blurred. He could see Toni getting into a fist fight with someone.

He had no reason to stay present. Sam drifted away.


Dean's finger twitched on the trigger. Mary's quiet whisper, "Dean," stopped him from shooting the British woman.

"Watch her," he instructed his mother, handing the gun over to her.

In an instant, he was at Sam's side, hands hovering over his brother.

"What have you gotten yourself into, kid," he whispered. Sam didn't move.

"Dean, do we need to call an ambulance?"

Dean cursed silently at his decision to tell Cas to take another lead, but shook his head. "Call Cas, see if he'll show." He turned his attention back to Sam. "Hey, Sammy. Wanna wake up, man?" Dean patted his brother's cheek, shaking him a little before resigning himself, and grinding his knuckles into Sam's sternum.

Sam whimpered a little, eyes barely cracking open.

"That's it, Sammy," Dean encouraged. "C'mon."

Sam's brief moment of consciousness was over. Dean sighed, checking pulse and expertly assessing Sam's injuries. Malnutrition, dehydration, bullet to his leg, bruising, a burned foot, and some red marks from the cattle prod. Probably the beginnings of infection, to boot. Sam's pulse was fast, as expected, but he seemed to be stable.

"Tie her up," Dean instructed his mom. "I've got Sam."

He pulled Sam's torso up, so that Sam was slumped against his chest. Sam groaned a little, the movement rousing him.

"That's it. Can you help me, bud? You're too big for me to carry bridal style, right?"

Sam didn't seem to know what was going on, but he was awake enough that when Dean lifted him up, he kept his spine straight enough that they didn't topple over again. Dean winced at the way Sam couldn't even support his own weight from the pain in his leg and foot.

"That's it, Sam, slow and steady. You've got this." They walked together towards the staircase, Mary hovering uncertainly nearby.

They passed by the woman who had kidnapped Sam. Dean couldn't shoot her. But he could kick her in the ribs, getting a satisfying yelp out of her.

"You'll get worse if you come after us again," he growled.

It was slow work, getting Sam up the stairs. Dean's shoulder was aching by the time they made it out into daylight.

"Passenger door," he panted to Mary. She hesitated.

"Shouldn't he go in the back?"

Dean knew she was right, but couldn't help the shake of his head. It was selfish, but he needed Sam next to him.

"Easy," he whispered, lowering Sam into his rightful place. Sam's eyes were closed tight from pain, and Dean brushed a quick hand over the side of his brother's face. "You're going to be okay," he promised him. If it weren't for his baby's paint job—and the chance that he would topple over and take longer in the process—Dean would've slid over the hood of the Impala in his rush to get to the driver's side. As it was, it was only seconds before they were on the road.

"No answer from Castiel," Mary reported.

Dean swore under his breath, one hand on the wheel, one hand simultaneously propping Sam up and taking his pulse.

"Motel," he said, following the signs. He'd prefer to get farther away, but Sam needed care right now, and he couldn't waste any more time.

"Hold on, Sammy," he murmured. "Don't you die on me."


"Company. Really? I mean, we both know you're crazy, but this is taking it a bit far," Lucifer complained.

Sam blinked his eyes open, blurry vision slowly coming to focus on both Dean and his mother. This was new.

"Sammy? You with us?"

He didn't bother answering his hallucinations. He categorized his hurts. He'd been patched up, enough that he could move.

"Sam?"

Sam swung his legs out of bed. His foot was still raw and extremely painful, but he would at least be able to get to a car to hotwire it.

"Whoa!" Dean lunged forward, pressing Sam's shoulders back. Sam blinked. He must've really lost it, this time. Still, he was weak enough to take comfort in Dean's presence, however momentary. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

Sam shook his head, unwilling to argue with himself over logical plans of action. That would give him a headache. And why not play along. It was better than facing reality.

"Easy," Dean soothed. "Cas will be here soon—or he better be."

Sam blinked, unable to understand what his hallucination was telling him.

"Play along," Lucifer urged him. "Or Dean will get angry with you."

Sam cleared his throat. "How—"

"Guess Amara stepped in. Mom was kind of a . . . thank you present." Dean glanced over at Mary. "You wanna—"

His mom came forward. Sam hadn't seen her since the panic room, the first time around. Had Toni fed him demon blood?

"Hey, sweetie," she said hesitantly. "I, uh, know you must be in shock."

"How much do you know?" Sam asked her.

She looked at his brother. "Not much. Dean caught me up a little. That you two are still hunting. All of that."

So she didn't know, yet. All that Sam had done. Lucifer had always liked to play the game of having loved ones—Jess, Dad, Mom—show up, and find out what he had become. And then they'd leave.

"You seem a little out of it," Dean said. "Did they drug you?"

Sam nodded, swaying as he did so. He was gently pressed back into the bed. It smelled bleached and musty, like every other motel bed he'd ever slept on.

"Why did she take you? What did she want?"

Sam knew this game. "Screw you," he murmured, letting himself slide towards unconsciousness. Before he fell asleep, he heard Dean's baffled, "what?"


"What's going on here, Dean?" Mary asked. She looked freaked, and Dean didn't blame her. "Is Sam . . . is he always like that?"

Dean twitched, feeling helpless and hating it. "No, he must be off from whatever drugs they fed him. I'm sure it'll pass." He glanced around the room. "Where is that frickin' angel?"

Sam muttered something. It sounded Enochian. Dean swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with their vulnerable position. They'd already been at the motel for half a day, and the longer they were here, the more likely someone would find them. Shaking Sam's shoulder a little, he woke him up again. "Hey, Sammy. Nap time's over. We should get back to the bunker, those British Men of Letters might still come after us."

Sam blinked, eyes murky with exhaustion. His gaze slid to the left, and Dean slid an arm behind his shoulders.

"Dean, are you sure that's a good idea?" Mary asked.

"Best I can do right now."

Sam whimpered as Dean helped him up. The sound ground into Dean's brain; he tried to take as much of his brother's weight as he could.

"How much does it hurt?" he murmured, thankful that Mary had moved on to the car. "C'mon, don't lie to me."

Sam shrugged.

"Bull," Dean muttered, but he didn't have time to get into it with Sam. It felt like years later they finally made it to the bunker. Cas was standing there, waiting for them.

"Where have you been?" Dean snarled. "We've been calling you for hours, and you just—"

"I was waylaid. Let me make up for it." Cas reached towards Sam.

Sam shoved out of Dean's support, away from Cas. Dean barely had time to say a shocked, "Sam—" before Sam was plastered against the wall, hands out defensively.

"Sammy," Dean said slowly. "Sam, it's just Cas. C'mon, you like Cas, remember? You two are besties, right?"

Sam's eyes were blank with incomprehension. He didn't move away when Cas approached him again, though. Dean could see him shaking.

When Cas pulled back, Sam's hurts were healed . . . except for his foot. Dean blinked, and then glared.

"What the hell, Cas?"

"They . . . they used holy oil. To burn him, I can't . . . I can't help."

Dean swore softly.

"Can I do anything to help?" Mary asked. There was something desperate in her voice.

"Sorry, Mom, I'm not sure Sam will be able to handle it right now. Um, look, if you wanna maybe make some soup for him? That'd help?" he suggested awkwardly.

His mother nodded firmly. "Point me towards the kitchen."

"Cas?" The angel guided his mother away, leaving Dean with Sam.

"Why don't we get you to bed?" Dean asked.

Sam still wouldn't answer him properly. Dean leaned in close, not missing the flinch when he reached out and curled a hand around Sam's neck.

"Hey, dude, you can relax now, okay? You're safe. I'm here."

Sam's deadened gaze met his. "Are you?"

Thrown, Dean tried to figure out how to respond. "What do you mean? Of course I'm right here."

Sam shook his head, closing his eyes and blocking Dean out again. He growled a little in frustration, pulling Sam up from his slump against the wall.

"You figure out the existential crap, but do that while you're lying down. That burn . . . I mean, we might wanna take you to the hospital for it, if Cas can't heal you."

Sam merely shook his head, limping along with Dean's assistance.


"This is a long time to play along. I'm impressed, Sam," Lucifer said. Half of Sam's room was covered in ice, slowly creeping towards Sam. "I mean, by now you would've given up with me. This Toni chick, what do you think, new true love?"

Sam didn't bother responding. The ice reached his toes.

"Oh, Sammy, you should come home. You know the longer you stay with these imitations, the worst the outcome will be. You're all alone in this world. Everyone you've ever loved, they've burned, because of you."

Sam shivered.

"Maybe it should be your turn."

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and everything was on fire.

Sam screamed, writhing in pain.

"Sam! Sammy, wake up, come on!"

The fire receded, and Sam could see Dean's green eyes staring at him, wide with fear. "Dean?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, Sammy. Focus. You were just dreaming."

"Sure." Sam's relief faded away as he remembered the hallucination would disappear soon. "Dreaming."

"What's up, Sammy. Did that chick really get to you that bad?"

Sam snorted. "Toni's nothing. She can play as many mind games as she wants, but I won't break." He glanced to Lucifer. "She should see what Lucifer can do."

Dean froze. "Sam, are you saying . . . hey there, focus on me. Look at me. This is real. I swear."

Sam didn't look at him.

Suddenly Dean's hand was wrapped around his, finger pressing lightly into his palm. "You remember this. You know, Sammy. After everything we've been through, you can tell the difference. I know the drugs and the pain are screwing you up, but I swear to you on . . . on the Impala, this is real."

Sam took a shuddering breath, surprised to find his cheeks wet. "I can't lose you again," he whispered, "I can't, Dean, I'll break, and—"

"Shh." Dean kept his hand firm on Sam's. "You're okay."

Sam pressed his face into Dean's shoulder. "So Mom's really—"

"Yeah. Big surprise, right?"

Sam nodded a little, feeling his tears soak into Dean's shirt. "I, uh, you've gotta be happy, right?"

"I suppose, yeah." Dean hesitated. "I mean, it's weird. But good. You know how it is."

Lucifer laughed. "Aren't you two adorable."

"Dean," Sam whispered. "I, uh, I . . ."

"Hey, you wanna come to my room? Boot up some Netflix, binge on something? You kept talking about that Daredevil series, right?"

Sam nodded. Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulder, guiding Sam across the hall. He tried to feel like he was older than five years old, but it was difficult.

Lucifer's laugh was left in Sam's room.

Just as they'd settled in, Mary poked her head through the door.

"I made hot cocoa," she said. Her smile was a little forced; Sam ducked his head, feeling guilty and wrong, and not sure why.

"Thanks, Mom."

A cup of warm cocoa was placed into his shaking hands. Sam briefly felt Mary's hand brush his head before she retreated.

"Thanks," he whispered.

Cas peeked inside the room. "You need anything, Sam?"

Sam couldn't decide whether he was embarrassed or grateful or what. He could feel himself flushing, and ducked down behind his hot cocoa.

"We're good, guys, thanks," Dean saved him. "Goodnight."

By increments, Sam slowly relaxed. Dean ruffled Sam's hair. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Getting there," he said softly. "I'm getting there."


A/N: Apologies for being such a HUGE sap. I couldn't help it, after that episode I wanted everyone to hug Sam and never let him go.

Night shift has been kicking my butt; nanowrimo is officially on hiatus, it was making me too stressed to see the word count get more and more unattainable. So I have turned to my fail safe, fic writing.

I did receive the comment that I'm going too fast, and making a lot of mistakes . . . I mean, look, with these prompts, I'm not looking to put out my very very best work. I'm sorry if that's what you guys were expecting, but for me, this is a chance to 1: give back to you guys and 2: to stretch my fic writing abilities after a long being unused. So it comes down to:A) I continue on as I am currently doing, and work my way through the prompts in a timely manner but without a lot of detail paid to editing, or B) I spend weeks on each prompt, and it'll probably be before next year that anything is posted.

So yeah, I'm going with A. I'm sorry if that's not good enough, or not up to the standards I've produced in the past, but at this stage in my life, it's the best I'm going to do.