Hell seemed to have realised that chains and fire pits weren't doing the trick anymore, so it had gone for a new angle of torture. Within the past... well, it felt like a few hours, but who knew how long it had been down here, Sam had thought he'd felt Lucifer's hand on his crotch upon waking, felt Lucifer press up against his back, only to turn and find him a few feet away, and been sure he'd heard Lucifer ask to kiss him, and had embarrassingly blurted "what?", to which Lucifer had frowned and insisted he hadn't said anything.

These events were, of course, accompanied by harsh bites of his own consciousness, telling him that he wasn't good enough to be loved by anyone, even the devil. Something within him tried to argue that he shouldn't want to be loved by the devil, but deep down, he knew the hopes of denying their connection were long gone. Denial could only stretch so far. He'd felt connected to Lucifer from the beginning, but he'd never thought about their relationship like this before. Or rather, never let himself think about it like this.

"How long are you planning to lie there?"

Sam sighed, not bothering to turn over to face Lucifer stood on the other side of the bed. "We're in Hell," he muttered. "Can't I take an off day?"

"Oh, now that's no fun, Sammy."

Sam hunched his shoulders, unsure how to feel about Lucifer teasing him. There was something undoubtedly playful about Lucifer's tone, and Sam felt a flush creeping across his face, suddenly very grateful he hadn't turned over.

"Sam?" Lucifer's voice was somewhat more serious now, even a touch concerned, though perhaps he was imagining that.

Sam felt the bed dip as the archangel sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Sam? Are you seeing things again? For what it's worth, I would advise you to tell me. Hell likes to isolate you. Keeping things to yourself is only keeping it between you and Hell for a personal torture session."

Sam hunched his shoulder forward, unsure of how to respond. Lucifer seemed to be genuinely trying to help, and that in itself was confusing enough, without the issue of thinking how he could possibly explain what exactly he had been seeing. Eventually, he sighed, forcing himself to turn onto his back to look at Lucifer.

The archangel stared calmly back at him, blue eyes seemingly endless. They appeared to catch the light, but even the phantom image of the bedside lamp in the room only cast a faint glow. Lucifer seemed to glow from within.

"I just... I'm just kind of down, I suppose." He gave a small shrug. "I mean, we are in Hell." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn't quiet come out right.

Lucifer had the courtesy to give a small amused smile, though perhaps he was simply more amused at Sam himself than anything.

Sighing, Sam sat up, leaning back on his hands. "It could be worse," he continued, not even sure whether he was still joking or not. This was Hell, yet he was holding it together somehow. There were surely worse things, than being plagued with the idea that- of everything- the devil didn't love him.

"It could," Lucifer said. "You could be alone."

"Yeah." The response fell from Sam's lips before he could stop it, and honestly, it surprised him just how much he meant it. There was a simmering gratitude for Lucifer's company building within him, and he knew he shouldn't feel such a thing, but it was there.

Looking up, he found the archangel's gaze had never strayed from him, and Sam fought the urge to sigh once more.

He knew he was past the point of becoming accustomed to Lucifer's presence. Worse, he was perhaps even starting to enjoy it.

"I love you, too, Sam."

He jumped, eyes snapping to Lucifer's face, but the archangel seemed impassive, though there was a small, growing frown of concern creeping onto his features. Either way, he was assured that Lucifer hadn't actually spoken. Hell's tricks again.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sam?"

Shaking his head slightly to make himself focus, Sam pushed his wonderings aside, though only for different ones. He needed to distract himself, and this was something he had been wondering anyway. "When you were down here before? Could you see me? Up on earth, I mean."

Lucifer was silent for a few moments, before answering. "Not directly. The point of this place is isolation, Sammy. Even communicating from here is difficult. It was Azazel-" he ignored Sam's flinch at the name- "who finally found both where I was and how to talk to me. Ritualistic sacrifice, you wouldn't want to hear about it. But I managed to speak with him."

"To say what?"

"I knew by then how things were to happen. I knew that you were to be, Sam. And it was all I could think about. This was 1972, before you existed. I was preparing for you before you were even an idea in your parents' minds. I sent Azazel to find you, to watch over you-"

"To give me demon blood," Sam couldn't help but cut in, face contorting in clear discomfort at the idea.

"To make you strong," Lucifer insisted. "Humans are weak, Sam. You are more than that."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he settled for saying nothing.

"He would report back to me when he could. He told me about you; what you looked like, what you liked and didn't like. I insisted on a running commentary of your life. I wanted to know you were okay. It was the best I could do, you have to understand that, Sam, while I couldn't watch over you myself."

Again, Sam didn't know how to answer, seeming both stunned and unsure, so Lucifer mercifully changed the subject.

"But why do you ask?"

Sam sighed, raising and lowering one shoulder in a brief shrug. "I just... I wanted to check Dean was okay. I wanted to make sure he'd gone to find Lisa like I told him to."

Lucifer seemed slightly displeased, but turned his head away so Sam couldn't read his expression. "Your brother will be fine, Sam. You're the one in Hell."

There was little he could do but smile at that. "Yeah, I guess." He paused, briefly trying to calculate how long they'd been down here. It was too much of a complex matter to simply keep track of time. There was Hell-time and earth-time and he wasn't even sure which he experienced, if he did experience any sense of time at all. "Speaking of which," he said. "Where's your brother? We haven't seen him in ages."

Lucifer was uncharacteristically hesitant in answering. He dipped his head fingers laced together in his lap. Eventually, he sighed and looked back up at Sam. "I did look for him once. Recently, while you were sleeping. He was... was yelling up to Heaven. He seems to be losing the hope that someone will come for him."

"You really don't think they're going to?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "They never came for me," he almost snarled.

"Yeah, but-" Sam cut himself off, deciding against the careless words. No matter how true, he could tell Lucifer would not appreciate circumstances being pointed out to him. Sam fell silent once more.

"I tried to talk to him," Lucifer continued eventually.

"What happened?"

"He got angry with me," Lucifer said. Something of a bitter smile touched his lips. "Or he's still angry with me, more to the point. He yelled at me that this was all my fault, that everything was. I attempted to calm him down but..."

"What?" Sam pressed.

"He struck out at me," Lucifer admitted. "He still seems happy with the idea of killing me. I took it as my cue to leave."

"That's... rough," Sam muttered, immediately cursing his own poor response. The idea of a brother that should have to kill you still haunted him, and he'd avoided it. Dean had, through some miracle, never given up on him. That that would ever change was Sam's worse fear. Michael, however, had made his feelings clear to Lucifer.

Kill you or save you, Sam remembered Dean telling him their father's words. Perhaps Michael had had the same options, but from what Sam knew, he hadn't really tried the alternative.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, finding the words came out genuinely.

Lucifer gave a short nod, not quite meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Sam."

"What about Adam? Did you see him?"

"Michael's still wearing him," Lucifer confirmed. "I think he may be wary of moving into his true form down here."

"Why?"

"The cage is designed to hold an archangel in it's true form, Sam. It'll attack anything, but especially the thing it was made for."

"But..." Sam eyed the form Lucifer was currently sporting. It was so easy to forget it was an illusion. He could see the fibers on his shirt, not a thing out of place from the real figure that had first approached Sam in his dreams. A blond, sturdy figure of over six foot, strong in a different way to Sam himself. Nick's form appeared the kind that would win easily in a rough bar fight, while Sam was more of the lean, athletic type. Still, he couldn't say the form was not handsome. "I mean, you're in your true form now, right?"

"Yes," Lucifer responded. "But I have... a shield, I suppose you could call it. Like I told you about using the happy memories. I have something to keep Hell from pulling me in."

Sam opened his mouth to question, but before he could even think any words, he knew the answer. He closed his mouth. Lucifer didn't need to say that it was him.

"Can I see?"

Sam's eyes widened as he heard the words spill from his own lips. He hadn't meant to say that. He couldn't recall making any conscious decision to say such a thing, yet it had happened. Definitely not another one of Hell's tricks, judging from the strangely surprised look on Lucifer's face.

"You would... see my true form?"

Sam found himself nodding. "I... kind of saw it before," Sam said cautiously, wondering if he was being too bold with these words. "Or felt it. It was like I could see it, but in my mind. When... you know, we were..."

"One," Lucifer supplied calmly.

"Yeah..." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "But it can't hurt me down here, right? I just... I want to see you." He felt a flush creeping over his skin, but resolutely kept his expression calm, determined not to let the embarrassment get to him.

Surprisingly, Lucifer didn't point this out, or even look amused. Instead, he simply stood. "We will have to go back to Hell in it's raw form," he said. "This illusion will not hold me."

Cautiously, Sam nodded, too wrapped up in a sense of anticipation to really care.

Taking a moment to study Sam, as if to check he were really sure, Lucifer nodded, waving one hand and making the room around them disappear, like smoke drifting off into the air.

Once again, they were stood in the endless cavern, the soulless area of rocky walls and a sense of creeping fear. Sam disliked it immensely. The physical surrounding were not that bad, but he kept swearing he could see something out of the corner of his eyes, or that someone was sneaking up behind him. This place was a landscape from a nightmare.

"Tell me if it overwhelms you," Lucifer said. "And I will revert back to this form."

"Okay." Sam paused. "Er, thank you, by the way. For... you know, letting me see."

Lucifer's response was instant and heartfelt. "You are a part of me, Sam. I was hoping it was clear to you by now that I will never deny you anything."

"Right. Erm, will this be like... massive? Am I gonna be like an insect next to you?"

"That isn't your body, Sam. And I've told you, space is a non-concept here. You can be whatever size you want to. It might take you a few minutes to adjust, but you can see me in an acceptable scale if you try."

"Okay."

As if that were some kind of ancient password, it suddenly happened. The only warning Sam saw with a suddenly yellowish glow in Lucifer's eyes, that seemed to burst forward and consume him. He swore the sun had just exploded right in front of him. He had gone blind. Eyes or not, the light had blinded him, he swore it had. It was all he could see. He was lost in a world of vast, glowing light. But it wasn't a world, not quite. It was a figure. A figure that shone so brightly, Sam felt he had never actually seen true light until this moment. If he really tried, he could see the ends of it. It had wings. Such beautiful wings of blond feathers, glowing, too, more detailed than anything he could ever imagine. He could see each little bristle on them. There was a head. Yes, he could see it now. It was like looking at one of those illusions puzzles with several images in one where each gradually became visible the more you studied it. There were eyes looking down at him. Arms, so very long, but they were definitely arms, stretched out toward him. It had hair! Hair like his, softly curled at the ends. It looked blond, but maybe that was just the light. He couldn't see if it wore clothes. Clothes seemed something from another plane, another world. Clothes were not for this being. It was just a figure. A figure like a silhouette, but massed with detail. Detail there was no words in human language to describe. It contained a universe. It was made of the stars. It was cold, so very cold, like for all its density it was empty, devoid of something. But Sam didn't care. It was still beautiful.

"Sam," it spoke to him. There was no 's' or 'a' or 'm', no sounds he had ever heard before, but somehow he understood. He knew it was his name. This creature was speaking for him.

He was crying. He felt like he was suffocating, choking on his wonder. He felt faint. He could remember this. Remember this from when it was inside him, completing him, wrapped around his soul in an embrace.

He'd lost himself again, drifting in the air without his own shape. But what did it matter? The physical world he was used to seemed a horrid thing suddenly. All the things he'd ever seen he had thought beautiful or attractive were now dull. He couldn't bear the dissatisfaction of anything that was not this perfect being before him.

He moved forward, reaching out for it. He wanted to touch it. More than that, he wanted to become lost in it, to become part of it. "Lucifer, I..."

You're not worthy, some vile little voice hissed in his mind. How could you be a part of this? It's some mistake. Devil or not, he is so much greater than you. Even with evil, you are unworthy. The devil doesn't deserve you. He could see himself stood in front of him, before the great, beautiful being. A smirking, mocking version of himself that was laughing at him. You're too weak. He's sharp, strong. You're nothing compared to him, like you're nothing to everyone else.

The words were like a knife stabbing into him, over and over. The phantom Sam disappeared with a last cunning smirk, and Sam felt himself blacking out.

Not worthy. How could such a thing ever love you?

He was falling. It was dark. The voice, his own personal hell voice echoed in his head. Chains lashed out at him. He had seen Heaven and now Hell was dragging him down, where he belonged in misery. Could never love you. He was falling into an abyss, away from everything he loved. He was falling.

But it was okay. Something had caught him.