Chapter Ten

When Sam woke the next morning, Lucifer was sitting at the desk. Sam started as he caught sight of him.

"Good morning," Lucifer said.

"Is there a reason you're watching me sleep?"

"Is this another of those personal space things?"

Sam chuckled. "Definitely. And I ask again, why are you watching me sleep?"

Lucifer looked apologetic. "I wanted to speak to you."

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and looked to the fallen angel to speak.

"I have to go away for a while," Lucifer said. "There are... things that I must attend to."

Things like raising Horsemen and ending the world, Sam thought. It was not just the news that Lucifer was going to wreak havoc that bothered him, though he told himself it was. The truth was that he didn't want Lucifer to go and leave him alone with only his demons for company.

"You are unhappy," Lucifer said, looking oddly pleased about that fact. "Why?"

"How long are you going for?" Sam asked in response.

"I don't know. Perhaps a week. Now, tell me why you are unhappy."

Sam sighed. "Because I am going to be stuck here with your demons."

Lucifer looked disappointed. "I am sorry for it. If it would made you more comfortable, I can instruct them to keep their distance. You need only speak with them when you want to."

"That's easy enough. I will never want to talk to them," Sam said bitterly.

"You have my word that they will leave you in peace. Now, I must be leaving. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Money," Sam said. "Unless you're telling me I can go hustle pool to get some."

"I don't think that's wise. You could become embroiled in trouble. I know how fickle humans can be over money." Lucifer reached into his back pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "Will this be enough?"

It was enough cash to last Sam and Dean for weeks without fake credit cards. It would definitely be enough to tide him over for a week on diner food.

"It's plenty," Sam said. "Thanks, Lucifer."

Lucifer smiled. "I should leave now." He looked reluctant though.

"You probably should," Sam said. "I need to shower."

Lucifer nodded. "If you need me, pray."

Sam thought it was odd that a fallen angel was asking him to pray but he didn't comment.

One moment Lucifer was looking at Sam with an unnamable expression, the next he was gone and Sam was alone in the room. He flopped back against the pillows and relished the solitude for a moment. He had a whole week of his own company ahead of him. He never thought he would feel so relieved to have time alone. He wished Dean was there to enjoy the time, and then he saw the contradiction. He needed to learn to be alone properly, as he had a feeling that, as Lucifer's plans drew to a close, he was going to grow used to his own company.

He pushed back the blankets and headed to the shower, thinking that he would get his routine over with and then head out to the diner for breakfast.

He made quick work of showering and changing, and soon he was walking down the stairs and out of the hotel. He didn't see anyone following him, but he felt them. He supposed it was too much to ask for the demons to allow him to wander freely about the town.

When he got to the diner and sank down into his booth, he was greeted by the same gum-popping waitress as the day before.

"Where's your friend?" she asked. Sam looked blankly at her for a moment and she elucidated, "The guy in the green shirt.

"He is out of town for a few days."

She sighed. "Pity. He sure was hot."

Sam turned his laugh into a cough. It was surreal to think of anyone thinking of Lucifer as hot. In the literal sense, Sam had noticed that Lucifer seemed to be colder than most people. It was like sitting close to an air conditioner unit sometimes.

"So, what can I get you?" she asked

"A coffee, please, and a short stack." The pancakes had been good the day before. Also, it was Dean's favorite, and Sam was clinging to anything of his brother that he could get.

The waitress walked away, and Sam looked around the diner. There were only a couple of tables filled. An elderly couple were eating together but not talking. It didn't seem like the silence of animosity, more that they had been together so long that words were not necessary to communicate.

Sam watched them for a moment, his thoughts drifting to Jess. She was the first and last woman he had ever truly loved. He had once hoped of having that future with her, but that was all ashes now. Sam didn't think he would ever have that future. It remained to be seen if anyone would have that future anymore. Sam didn't know Lucifer's plans, but he doubted lazy breakfasts in diners for couples were a part of it.

The waitress came back over and set a mug and plate down in front of him. She watched as Sam doctored his coffee and took a bite of the pancakes.

"It's good," he said, wondering what she was waiting for.

"I'm Shirley," she said.

"Sam."

She nodded as if she was expecting more, but Sam failed to deliver.

"So," she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, "I was thinking. My shift's over in a few hours, and there's a bar near here..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Was he being hit on while he tried to eat his breakfast? It seemed too bizarre, but as she pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook her blonde curls over her shoulders he thought that must be it. He tried not to laugh.

"I'm afraid I'm busy today," he said.

She pouted. "You can't get out of it?"

"No," he said firmly, forking up another mouthful of pancakes. "But thanks."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then she clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, I get it. Sorry."

"What do you get?" Sam's brow creased in confusion.

"You and your friend, you're together, right?"

Sam choked on his mouthful. Coughing harshly, he tried to speak. "No, definitely not."

"You sure?"

Sam nodded, massaging his aching chest. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Then what's the problem?" she asked.

Sam merely looked at her. She couldn't possibly be so arrogant to believe he must be gay because he was not interested in hooking up with her, could she?

Just then, a voice called out from the counter. "Shirley, if you're not too busy flirting, these meals need serving."

Shirley gave Sam one last assessing glance, and then she turned and walked back to the counter.

Sam's appetite was gone. He pushed away his plate and tossed a couple of bills down to cover his tab and Shirley's tip, not that she'd really earned herself one.

When Sam got back to his room, he noticed right away how empty it was. He walked over to the bed and grabbed the remote then turned on the TV. Kicking his shoes off, he flopped down on the bed and checked what was on. He found himself drawn to the news. He wondered if he could pin down Lucifer's presence in the stories. There was nothing of interest, though, so he quickly flicked it off and went to the laptop.

He took a seat at the desk while the computer began to load. Once it was up, he went to Google and began searching for patterns in the news, anything that might clue him into Lucifer's whereabouts. He didn't see anything. Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself back from the desk. He got up and began to pace the room. It seemed all too big now that there was no one there to share it with. He thought of going out, to the park or something, then he remembered the fallout from his last trip to the park, and it soured his mood.

Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family swept through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his thoughts kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives.

He threw himself down on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't find him easily though and he spent most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He woke more than once in a cold sweat.

When the first rays of morning light shone in through the window, he groaned and covered his head with a pillow.

As he lay there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realized he needed to do something. He couldn't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him was fighting, for good or bad.

Knowing Chuck was watching, and therefore Dean, he pushed himself up out of bed and prepared for another day,

He showered, dressed, and then settled himself down at the desk. Booting up his laptop, he tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited for it to load. When he had a webpage open, he typed in the address for one of his favorite news sites. It was a little eclectic, dealing with alien abductions and crop circles as much as real news, but he had found clues for cases there before. Halfway down the page he found something hopeful. There had been an animal mauling in Bloomington, Indiana. He pulled up the local police department's records and hacked his way through their joke of a firewall. Soon, he had the report open, and he saw the telltale sign of supernatural: a missing heart.

He clapped his hands and raised his eyes. "Chuck, I hope you're watching this, buddy. Tell Dean to check out the news for Bloomington, Indiana. I think we have a werewolf." He considered for a moment. "And, Chuck, tell them I'm okay."

It caught Sam off guard when he saw it on the second day after Lucifer left. He went to a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greeted him: A TOWN IN MOURNING. Below the headline, there was a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picked up the paper and skimmed the article. It was announcing the funeral.

Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white newsprint affected Sam, and he found himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asked the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raised an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he didn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam was clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel.

When he got inside his room, he kicked off his shoes and went to the counter to get a glass. He poured the amber liquid and slugged it back in one swallow. It burned his throat and made him gasp, but it felt good. It was something to ground him in the present rather than letting his mind wander back to recent events. The second glass went down smoother and the third smoother still. By the time half the bottle was gone, Sam was no longer bothering with a glass. He was necking it from the bottle.

That began the days of drinking and attempting to forget.

"Meg!" Sam shouted from the doorway.

Meg appeared and her nose wrinkled in disgust. She looked Sam up and down. "You bellowed."

"I need a drink," Sam said.

"I would have thought you'd had enough already."

Sam attempted to focus on her; it was hard as the alcohol was muddling his mind. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Meg. I just said I needed a drink. Now, off you go." He waved a hand at her.

Meg visibly paled. "I'm not saying this because I care, because I truly don't, but don't you think you've had enough? Lucifer will be back tomorrow, and he is not going to be pleased if you're dead of alcohol poisoning."

Sam hiccupped. "He'll just bring me back."

Meg scowled at him. "Fine, I'll get you a drink, but you have to do something for me in return."

Sam looked confused. "What do you want?"

"I want you to shower your grungy ass."

Sam threw back his head and laughed. "Sure, I'll shower. Gotta look good for when the Devil returns." That said, he slammed the door shut in her face and plodded back to the bed where he fell facedown onto the mattress.

Some small vestige of normal behavior remained, and he realized Chuck would be watching all of this. He raised his head and stared blearily at the opposite wall. "It's not what it looks like, Dean, honest."

Sam rolled out of bed around noon the next day. He felt terrible. When he dragged himself into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror above the sink, he saw that he looked terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighed. He hadn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then, he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thought back over the last seven days and he cursed himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the scorching spray of water. He felt grimy and disgusting. He couldn't remember the last time he showered or shaved. Judging by the scruff along his jawline, it'd been a few days.

When he finally felt clean again, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Standing at the sink, he shaved and then brushed his teeth. He looked much better, even if he didn't particularly feel it.

He walked back into the bedroom and pulled on a clean set of clothes. He noted the mess he had made of his room in the last week. The floor was strewn with clothes and there were empty bottles of liquor dotted around the room. He gathered up his clothes and stuffed them into the laundry bag, then he picked up the empty bottles and carried them to the door.

"Meg," he called.

She appeared at the door a moment later. "Winchester."

"Can you get rid of these for me?" he asked.

She blinked slowly. "That was almost polite. What's wrong with you? You look different." She tapped a hand on her chin. "I know what it is! You're sober. How does it feel to be back among the living?"

Sam scowled at her. "Will you do it or not?"

"I'll do it," she said, taking the bottles from him. "But don't confuse this with me actually caring."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not a chance."

He closed the door and went back to the desk. He didn't know what time Lucifer would be back, so he rallied for something to do to kill the time. He didn't feel like eating, though he wasn't sure when he last ate a proper meal. Maybe when Lucifer got back they could go out to the diner.

He turned on the laptop and searched the police reports from Bloomington to see if there was any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf.

He skimmed through a report and spotted something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evoked. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation. It had to be Dean and Cas. The thought made him happy and sad in equal measure. He was happy because Dean was out there, fighting still, and he'd gotten the message, but he was sad because it was Cas working with Dean and not him. It made him feel a pang of hurt to know that he had been replaced, but he knew it was for the best. It wasn't like he was going to be back in the game anytime soon.

He slammed the laptop shut and strode back to the bed. Perching on the edge, he settled down to wait for Lucifer's return.

The shadows lengthened, the sun sank, and still Sam waited. When full dark came, Sam got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. If he hurried, he could get to the liquor store before it closed.

Lucifer hated being delayed, but raising Horsemen took a lot more work that you would imagine, even for him.

It was two weeks after he left Sam in the hotel that he returned, though to him it felt much longer. He had been frustrated by all the delays and he'd wanted to get back to Sam. Finally, after days of facilitating the Horseman's whims and needs, he was free to return.

He was surprised to see Meg standing outside Sam's room when he arrived in the early hours of the morning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you bothering him again, Meg?"

Meg shook her head. "I'm just making sure he doesn't go for a stroll in his shorts again."

Lucifer looked confused. "A stroll in his what?"

"Boxer shorts," she said casually. "He got it into his head a couple of nights ago that he needed air. He forgot to dress himself first, though."

Lucifer rubbed a hand over his face. "Why do I get the feeling I am missing something vital here?"

Meg gave him a truncated account of what Sam had been doing for the last two weeks, including the alcohol binges, picking fights with demons, and his lack of personal hygiene—that seemed to bother Meg more than anything.

Lucifer frowned as he listened. "Why would he do this?" he asked.

"It looked to me like he was having what humans call a nervous breakdown. He was never been the most stable of people."

Lucifer ignored the slight criticism of Sam. He thought she might have a point. "Very well," he said. "I shall go to him."

Lucifer opened the door and stepped inside. What he saw shocked him, making him stop dead in his tracks. Sam was leaning against the headboard of the unmade bed. The room was filled with empty bottles of various liquors, predominantly whiskey. Lucifer's nose wrinkled as he smelled the air. He now knew what Meg was talking about when she mentioned his personal hygiene. The room smelled like old whiskey and sick. Somehow, Sam had managed to take the luxurious room and lower it to the standards of the motel they had recently vacated.

Sam was in pajama pants and a dirty white tee, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looked over to Lucifer and blinked. Lucifer studied him for a moment. His face was unshaven and his hair was unwashed and hanging in strings around his face.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Sam said, tipping his bottle back and taking swig.

"Sam," Lucifer greeted with a nod. "I see you have found a way to pass the time."

Sam hiccupped and took another drink. "Yep."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day."

Sam laughed. "Well, how does it feel to be wrong?" He took another drink.

Lucifer shook his head. There was something almost endearing about a drunken Sam. "I am merely trying to help you, Sam."

"Maybe I don't want help. Maybe I just want to forget."

"Forget what?"

Sam swirled the contents of the bottle, watching it as he did. He looked up at Lucifer. "Maybe I just want to forget it all."

Lucifer nodded. "I'm sorry you feel that way. May I ask what happened to bring you to this state?"

Sam swallowed and hiccupped again. "Their funeral was last week."

Lucifer's brow furrowed and he tried to think. He was not sure who… and then it hit him. Sam was talking about the Miller family. He was talking about Sarah. It all began to made sense.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Lucifer said as he walked to the bed and took a seat beside Sam. "That must have been difficult for you."

Sam went to take another swig of whiskey but Lucifer reached out and placed his hand on Sam's, stopping him. "No more, Sam."

Sam paused and looked down at Lucifer's hand. An unreadable expression crossed Sam features and then it was gone. He shook off Lucifer's hand as if it burned him. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at the loss of contact. Sam didn't take another drink, though, which Lucifer was thankful for, as he could tell Sam had already had way too much.

Sam looked down at his hands, which were both now clutching the bottle. "Where were you?"

"Not far. I told you, I am always only a prayer away. Why didn't you call for me?"

Sam shrugged, eyes downcast. "I thought I could handle it. I thought… I guess I was wrong."

"You thought what, Sam?"

"I thought you would come back, but you didn't."

Sam's words hurt Lucifer. He regretted being gone so long, especially now that it was clear that Sam needed him. "I'm here now," he said, hoping his words would bring comfort to Sam.

Sam nodded and looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty. I killed that family, Lucifer. Maybe not with my own hands, but I put them all in that car. My actions did that, no one else's."

Lucifer wished there was something he could say to soothe Sam, but he fell short. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You tried to get me out of there."

Lucifer looked at Sam and saw the wetness forming in his eyes.

"It's not fair," Sam said.

"No it's not." Lucifer took the bottle from Sam's grasp and set it down on the nightstand. "But you can't lose yourself to the pain like this. Think of Dean. Think of your family. You have so much, and yet you don't see it."

A tear trickled down Sam's cheek and he sniffled. "It hurts."

"I know, Sam. I understand," Lucifer said softly. "Why don't you go shower and change? You'll feel better for it."

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. Lucifer stood and watched as Sam pushed himself from the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door.

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed, looking around the room. He had his work cut out for him.