AN: Chapter three for your viewing pleasure.I'm happy that so many of you have been enjoying the story so far. As might have been obvious in the author notes of the prologue, I am not used to this style of writing and I was a bit nervous about it. Hope this continues to make you laugh/chuckle/smile. ~Ella

Sam's Hell

Chapter Three

RULE #23: Soccer is not to be played in the cage.

YEAR FORTY-TWO

Michael sat silently, enjoying the silence. He had meandered off to the "thinking corner" as they had termed the hallway (or as Sam still referred to it "the body snatching corner of doom"). He sighed, enjoying just being alone. It had been forty-two years since they had entered the cage and it was nice to find time to get away. As much as he loved his brother, as much as he got along with Sam and Adam ... dealing with the same people day-in and day-out was tiresome. Especially since most of the fun board games had been banned for the past twenty years.

He could tell that being stuck in the cage was getting to them. There was nothing to do. At this point in time, there was nothing they didn't know about each other. Heck, for Sam and Adam they had been in the cage longer then they had ever been top-side. Lately, they had been whining about finding something to do. Shaking his head at the thought of his human companions, Michael sighed and let his headache disappear.

Yes, sweet, calming silence ... this was just what he needed.

CRASH.

Not even flinching at the sound of destruction, Michael just sighed and stalked back to the main living area. They could not even give him five minutes of peace.

Walking around the corner to tell them to quiet down, Michael was unprepared for the flying soccer ball which connected with his face.

Sam, Lucifer and Adam stopped dead when they saw the soccer ball they had been kicking around hit Michael in the face. With one big gasp, no one spoke, waiting to see how Michael would react.

"What is that?" Michael asked, his gaze never leaving the oddly patched ball on the ground.

"Um, soccer ball," Sam supplied, smiling weakly.

"Why is there a soccer ball?" Michael questioned softly, still not looking towards the three men who shifted uneasily where they stood.

"The humans were teaching me soccer, brother," Lucifer explained, hating how Michael could always make him feel so little.

"Why did it hit my face?"

"Because you didn't duck dude," Adam huffed, rolling his eyes, even as Sam kicked him in the shin.

Finally glancing up at Lucifer, Sam and Adam the three of them took a step back at the mad intensity of Michael's face.

"Soccer is banned," Michael commanded, snapping his fingers to make the rules appear.

"But," Sam whined, pouting.

"Come on dude," Adam joined in the whining. "It wasn't hurting anyone ... well, except your face."

"It's a rule!"

"Your brother is so unfair," Adam complained to Lucifer.

"I know," Lucifer agreed with sympathy.

RULE #28: No road hockey in the cage ... or actual hockey ... no hockey of any sort is allowed.

YEAR FIFTY

"Adam, coming in for the score, winds up and ..." Adam cheered, snapping back his wrists as he went to slap shot the small tennis towards Lucifer who had been chosen to be goalie. Sam had volunteered, but Adam and Lucifer both agreed his overall bulkiness and freakish height was an unfair advantage. Lucifer bent his knees, ready for the shot.

Unfortunately, Adam did not have the best aim, unlike his older brother who had a killer shot. So, as he hit the ball and sent it flying, it missed the net entirely. To add to the youngest one's misfortune, Michael was just walking around the corner, a glass of milk in hand when the ball hit him in the face ... again.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Michael yelled, his front covered in spilt milk, as Adam gave a nervous chuckle and bolted out of the room. "NO MORE ... WHAT'S THIS CALLED"

"Road hockey," Sam and Lucifer muttered, hoping to calm Michael down before he broke rule number one.

"NO MORE ROAD HOCKEY!"

"So ... what about ice hockey?" Sam asked Lucifer quietly.

"NO, NONE OF THAT! NO HOCKEY, NONE!"

RULE #29: Tennis is banned.

RULE #30: No one is allowed to read the Winchester gospels. Especially if they then start quoting them in everyday life to annoy Sam.

YEAR FIFTY-ONE

The past year had been almost idyllic. No new rules had been made, and Sam found himself starting to really enjoy his time down in hell. Especially since they had finally, FINALLY found an activity that did not lead to someone almost being killed. Tennis. No one was really good at it, which allowed them to each suck equally for a change. Both Lucifer and Michael were too aggressive and kept hitting the net, Adam could hit the ball but had horrible aim and Sam had good aim but because he was always partnered with one of the other three – it wasn't a real strain on the game. If someone had told him fifty-two years ago he would be in hell with two archangels and his raised-from-the-dead-Winchester-style half-brother playing tennis – Sam would have thought the they were crazy (especially because he had never played tennis in his life).

He should have known his relative peace was destroyed when one day, after walking up to Michael who was reading a book intently, that everything was going to go downhill.

"What're you reading?" Sam asked, since him and Michael would normally take turns reading different books. It didn't matter if Lucifer and Adam made fun of them – Sam liked reading and he shared similar tastes with Michael.

"The Winchester Gospels," Michael responded automatically, not even looking up as Sam choked on air.

"What?" Sam gasped, looking at the archangel in horrified surprise.

"You seem to be intense in your love-making," Michael responded, as Sam closed his eyes and tried to erase this from his memory.

"Dude! If you need to read it, I don't like it but whatever, but do NOT talk about it!" Sam demanded, before hastily leaving the room.

One week later ...

Sam served the ball, and got ready for the volley back.

"I can't believe you and Dean had a racist truck, dude that's so lame," Adam teased from across the net, after hitting the ball back across.

Distracted, Sam missed the rally.

"What?" Sam asked, non-pulsed. He was sure he had never told Adam about that experience.

"Yeah," Adam continued smugly. "I mean, I thought a hunter was this super tough gig and here you are chasing killer trucks? And sleeping with how many chicks?"

"How?" Sam was supremely confused.

"Michael leant me the Winchester Gospels," Adam smirked. "I never knew how emotional you were man."

Sam, serving the ball once again, 'accidently' aimed for Adam's toes. As he watched his half-brother hop up and down on one foot Sam smiled and called out, "oops, didn't mean for that."

Four days later ...

Swinging his arm, Sam tried to ignore the laughing angel's on the other side of the net. They were currently quoting their favourite parts of the books.

"Did you get to the whole 'I have a mind of my own part' part?" Lucifer asked Michael cheerfully, hitting the ball across the net again. "No wonder he was my vessel – even I didn't bitch that much."

"Right, that's denial," Michael teased. "Though, I liked the "Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cake hole" line from the first novel."

"How about with Madison when they- ugh!" Lucifer clutched his stomach were Sam had wiped the tennis ball hard.

"Sorry," Sam apologized not sounding sincere at all. "Maybe you should practice tennis more and read crap novels less."

One Week Later ...

"And then at the end of the novel ..." Michael was cut off when a tennis ball hit him in the face. "Stop using tennis to get back at us!"

"Then stopping quoting and analysing my life in front of me!" Sam retorted angrily.

"These are holy books," Michael defended.

"No, they are messed-up, stalker books which had no right to invade our privacy!"

"STOP IT!" Lucifer snapped, tired of the bickering. "Using the books to annoy Sam lost its appeal awhile ago. It's a new rule."

"Same with tennis," Adam said, rubbing his sore side, where Sam had hit him with a tennis racket 'accidently' yesterday when Adam had teased Sam about his clown-phobia.

"Fine," Sam and Michael mumbled.

RULE #35: No Baseball.

YEAR FIFTY-THREE

SMACK.

"Sorry Michael ..."

RULE #40: No Football

YEAR FIFTY-NINE

SMACK.

"Honestly, it's like you just walk into it Michael."

"Not helping Adam ..."

AN: Tada! Another chapter! Thank you for all the favs and alerts, it's always nice to hear from everyone. It makes me smile. Anyways, I need to head out - so I am going to quickly post this and wrap up this authors note. Much love ~Ella