Thank you to my followers and reviewers – you make it worth it! I'm taking a bit of artistic licencing in this chapter; cue the cross into S11. Keeping the essence, but changing the facts!

oOo

Pipestone, Minnesota

The first thing Sam was aware of was the smack of something soft whacking him fully in the face. He lurched upright, hair sticking out at seemingly impossible angles, the offending pillow falling into his lap. He looked groggily at Dean who sat grinning on his bed, tying his bootlace.

"You plannin' on sleeping all day, Sammy? Get your ass outta bed already!" He remarked. Sam groaned, pulling the covers over his head; he disliked Chipper-Morning-Dean and his ability to be wide awake from the get go. "C'mon, there's a diner down the road and I'm starving – shift your ass!" Edging the covers back down, Sam peeked out at his brother who was busy stuffing clothes back into his duffel bag.

How am I this tired?

oOo

Lange's Café was a small, homely diner that bustled quietly with the gentle hum of its morning customers. Many locals sat at the circular stools pressed against the counter, their feet resting on the polished silver foot bar that ran parallel to the counter, knees pressed solidly against the miniature blue tiles that decorated the side of the work top. The booths were cosy with plump maroon cushions that had started to sag with age and strips of floral padding running across the top of the vertical cushions. A huge chilled display case dominated the space next to the counter, its surface gleaming. Inside stood one of the largest arrays of homemade pies Sam had ever seen. He chuckled drily to himself; every few seconds, Dean would glance at the case, longing evident in his eyes despite the bacon he was shovelling into his mouth. Clearly, there would be a pie-run before they left.

"Do you and the pie need a room?" He quipped, smiling as he sipped his coffee. Dean eased his eyes back in his direction, sighing in contentment.

"Later," Dean affirmed, making Sam laugh. "Seriously man, this is the best breakfast I've had in months; how is it you only wanted coffee?"

"I'm just not hungry this morning" Sam answered, letting the bitter coffee wash over his tongue. Truth be told, he felt full. Not your average kind of full either; it was almost Christmas-Day-full where you stuffed yourself so full of food and drink that you felt…sloshy. The continuous waft of Dean's breakfast was actually starting to make him nauseous.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but closed it when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it from his jeans and looked at the caller ID. Frowned.

"What do you want?" He barked, staring at Sam who frowned in confusion. "…Pipestone, why? We could be back in an hour…fine. We'll be there."

"Who was that?"

"Crowley. Says he's got an update on the whole Amara thing for us. Wants to meet at Bobby's" Dean explained, finishing the last bite of his eggs.

"Let's go then" Sam replied, downing the last of his drink. Dean grunted and shook his head. He pointed at the counter.

"First – pie!"

oOo

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Darling! It's been a while" Crowley exclaimed, grinning broadly at Dean. He stood with his hands rooted in the pockets of his black coat, his whole demeanour relaxed and confident.

"Not long enough, apparently" Dean rolled his eyes. Crowley smiled and shifted his gaze to Sam who glowered at him from the kitchen doorway.

"Moose! Still crazy I presume?"

Before Sam could reply, Bobby cut in. "What is it you want, Crowley?" He leaned against his desk, folding over the corners of a few manuscripts and papers that he'd haphazardly left on it.

"Always down to business so quickly, Bobby; you're no fun" Crowley sighed dramatically – always the wounded party. "I've been doing some digging into our little Darkness issue. Lots of whispers running around the monster circuit, you see. Some were complete tripe, but others had a little more fact than fiction."

"What's your point Crowley?" Dean asked, crossing his arms. Sometimes the demon's roundabout way of getting to a point was just plain aggravating.

"Well it turns out that there were a lot of rumours involving Lucifer," Crowley explained, looking at Sam who shifted uneasily. "Apparently he was there the last time Amara was around. In fact, he claims he was the one that chucked her in her box the first time." His eyes stayed fixed on Sam.

"What do you mean 'he claims'?" Bobby stared, incredulous.

Crowley smiled and spread his hands. "When you're the King of Hell, you get the all access pass – including nifty little spells that let have some limited FaceTime with those in the cage. He says hi by the way."

"Get. To. Your. Point." Dean growled, stepping forward. He watched Sam pale out of the corner of his eye, his throat working furiously.

"Hold your fire, Dean; I'm getting there."

"Doesn't seem like it" Bobby said acidly.

"The long and short of it is that he claims he's the only one that can stop her again. Clearly his fishing to come topside again – which none of us want, I hasten to add. I quite like how I've got Hell now, thank you very much. I would, however, try to find out why he thinks he's special if I were you. Ducky might be able to help you with that."

"That's it?" Dean asked.

"That's it" Crowley shrugged, waltzing past him. He kept his eyes locked on Sam's, his back to Dean and Bobby. "I did what you asked; now do your bit" he murmured, low enough that only Sam heard. The younger Winchester looked at him in confusion. Crowley spun on his heel and smiled at Dean. "Got to run; try not to miss me too much." With that, he was gone.

A searing pained blast through Sam's mind, making him gasp and clutch his head with one hand. White lights danced behind his eyelids. He felt hands on his shoulders, heard Dean's voice calling his name; it sounded like he was in a fish bowl. The pain subsided as quickly as it had come.

"Sam? Are you ok?" Dean asked, his eyes full of concern. Sam nodded. "What did Crowley say to you?" Sam stared blankly at him.

"What? He didn't say anything" Sam replied, puzzled. Dean frowned.

"It looked like he said something to you."

Sam shook his head. "No – he just turned around and said he had to run." Dean searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. He saw none. Yet he'd heard Crowley's deep baritone rumble and clocked Sam's expression just before the demon left; he just didn't hear what he said. Why would Sam lie?

"Please tell me you haven't done anything stupid involving Crowley" Dean responded, not convinced.

"I don't even know what you're talking about!" Sam glowered. His hands were balled into fists, nails digging in almost painfully. Bobby stepped between the two of them – his hands held up peacefully. Sam continued to glare defensively over his head.

"Alright enough. If he said Crowley didn't say anythin' then he didn't," Bobby interjected. Dean scowled and moved back into the living room, plonking himself down on the sofa. A sudden wave of nausea swept over Sam, forcing him to cover his mouth with his hand and race for the bathroom. "Sam?! You alright, lad?" Bobby shouted after him, alarmed. He glanced at Dean who looked as surprised as he did. They heard the younger Winchester retching.

"He looked a bit green this morning but I didn't think anything of it," Dean admitted, pushing himself off the couch. He padded down the hall to the bathroom, pushing open the door to find Sam slumped over the toilet, heaving pitifully, forehead resting against his arm which was draped over the seat. His body convulsed painfully but, since he's missed breakfast, he brought up nothing but bile after his coffee. Dean crouched down next to him, rubbing his back in slow circles.

Sam tilted his face to the side, raising his eyes to look at the person behind him. Lucifer grinned down at him. Sam groaned and feebly tried to push his arm away.

"Get it all up" Dean said soothingly, but all Sam heard was Lucifer's voice. He moaned, pushing himself up and away from the hand on his back. He staggered to the sink, rinsing out his mouth with water. He looked balefully at Lucifer who stood smirking behind him. "What's wrong?" Dean asked, unable to comprehend the look Sam was giving him in the mirror. He stepped forward, raising a hand to reach for his little brother's forehead.

"Stay away from me!" Sam shouted, his eyes focused on Lucifer's maniacal grin as he approached. He tried to bat aside the hand that came towards him, focusing on the knife in the clenched fist.

Startled, Dean winced as Sam's hand smacked into his forearm, his unfocused eyes fixated on Dean's hand. His brother went on the offensive, throwing punches wildly at him. Realising that Sam was caught in the middle of a hallucination, Dean grappled with him, trying to stop his flailing arms, grunting when some of the punches connected.

"Sam! Sam, stop! It's me! Stop!" He shouted, managing to grab hold of both of Sam's wrists. He pressed his thumb into Sam's palm, watching Sam wince as he dug it in.

Lucifer flickered and shimmered as the pain in his hand grew. He disappeared; Dean standing in his place. Dean's hands wrapped around his wrists. Dean's concerned eyes fixed on him.

"Dean." Sam's eyes finally focused on his, horrified. The tension fell away from his shoulders, his arms relaxing. "I don't…I don't feel…" Before he could finish, Sam's eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward into his brother. Caught off guard, Dean nearly dropped under the sudden weight. Placing a hand against Sam's forehead, Dean winced. He was on fire.

"Bobby?! A little help!"

oOo

Dusk fell slowly, draping the scrapyard in a blanket of shadows. It eased over the house like a blanket, wrapping it in a comforting darkness. The windows glowed a soft orange, spilling their light out onto the gravel beyond. Inside, the fire crackled gently in the living room, sending flickering darts of light across the floor. Dean sat, his face half enveloped in the light, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his cupped hands. His chair was aligned with the faded red couch; Sam's broad form balled up on it beneath a blanket. He was shivering profusely, knees drawn up to his chest in a foetal position. He clutched the blanket up under his chin even though his brow was dowsed in sweat, strands of hair stuck to his forehead. Every now and then a soft moan escaped his lips but his eyes remained firmly shut.

"So until this afternoon, you thought his facetime with Lucifer was gettin' less? Like his hallucinations were gettin' better?" Bobby asked softly, watching Dean from behind his desk. He sipped his whisky slowly, letting the spirit roll over his tongue. Dean glanced at him, but his eyes quickly returned to Sam's prone form.

"I hadn't seen him touch his gimp hand for a while; I knew when he was tryin' to get rid of somethin' cause he'd press it like I showed him. I dunno, Bobby. I dunno how much he really sees and how much he can cope with. What if this never goes away?"

Bobby lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, sadness tugging the corners of his mouth down. "Then we deal as best we can. Look, we can't do anythin' for him now – I'm goin' t'bed."

"I'm gonna stay" Dean murmured, keeping his eyes on Sam. Bobby nodded, patting him on the shoulder as he ambled past.

oOo

The fire had died, leaving tiny glimmers of embers chewing slowly on the blackened logs left in the hearth. The living room was bathed in the star light that streamed in through the window, changing the warm red and yellows to eerie blues and blacks. Dean sat sprawled in the hard wooden chair he had been in all night; his long legs stretched out in front of him. His chin rested softly against his chest which rose and fell rhythmically as he slept.

In the darkness, Sam watched.

He had stayed in the same position for half an hour, controlling his own breathing so that he sounded asleep. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he studied Dean carefully. The older Winchester hadn't moved for a while. Pushing back the blanket and standing silently, Sam edged his way around Dean, grabbing his jacket and shoes without a sound. Keeping his ears tuned for any signs of Dean's waking, he snuck over to the back door. Turned the latch, waiting for the click it would make. He waited. No noise from Dean.

Easing the door open, Sam slipped out into the night.

oOo

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