Author's Note: So . . . I'm way late. I know and I'm really sorry. Long story short, real life has been insane and I haven't had time to write. I'm working on it though so updates should be more frequent. Also, I've been doing some thinking and I thought that maybe I would open up requests keep this story going through the summer and maybe end in June or July. Of course, I wouldn't have daily updates if I did this (I do have other stories to attend to) but I thought since it's summer it would be fun. Plus, who doesn't love hurt Sam? Anyways, let me know if this interests you.

Today's great prompt comes from reannablue who asked for, "Do you remember how Dean learned how to play golf when he lived with Lisa? I was thinking that he decides to teach his little bro how to play. Sam could suffer some back issue or any other injury of your choice." Thank you so much for your prompt and I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this to you. I hope you enjoy it! Please know that I've never played golf before. Please forgive me if I made some huge mistake about it in this chapter. Let's set this in early season 7, okay?

"To find a man's true character, play golf with him. "

—P.G. Wodehouse

It delights Sam to no end that his older brother took up golf when he lived with Lisa.

"Dude," Dean chides, practicing his swing. They're on the some golf course in Florida after hours. They had saved the owner from a vengeful spirit and in gratitude, the old man allowed the two brothers free roam of the course. Dean was thrilled and was Sam . . . well, needless to say, he was surprised. Golf has never interested him and he always assumed that it wouldn't appeal to his big brother either, especially given Dean's love for all violent sports. Golf is just so . . . different. "Stop staring. You're gonna make me lose focus."

"Sorry," Sam suppresses a chuckle, but his older brother sighs, placing a ball on the tee. He takes a few swings. "It's just . . . golf, Dean? Really?"

"Yes, really, Sam." His older brother replies exasperatedly.

"But . . . no one is fighting."

"I know."

"There's no tackling."

"I know, Sam!"

"And it's not violent—"

"That's not the point!" Dean replies sharply and Sam is slightly taken aback by his sharp tone. His older brother meets his gaze, a darkness flashing in his eyes. "When you were . . ." He runs a hand through his hair nervously. "When you were gone, I had to find some way to keep breathing. Lisa taught me golf and I just . . ." He shrugs, his free hand gesturing dismissively. "I don't know, Sam, it just gave me something to focus on instead of you burning in Hell."

Sam understands.

When Dean had died—when he had burning in Hell because of Sam—there were plenty of things the youngest Winchester had tried to give his mind a brief respite from the constant litany of "It should be you, you should be dead" on repeat in his mind. Of course, he had never found the one thing to keep him going, but if Dean had found his in golf, well then, who was Sam to judge?

"Can you teach me?" That takes Dean aback. It was clear, judging from his older brother's slightly shocked expression that Sam's question is the last thing he was expecting.

"What?"

"Teach me?" Sam whispers softly, unsure if asking this was the right move. Dean might shut down and might move on from this and act like nothing was bugging him.

"Sure, come here." Sam nods his head and comes closer. He grabs the club from his older brother who is now standing slightly behind him. His hands tighten on the club as his older brother talks him through how to do a proper swing. Sam lets the reassuring voice wash over him, pleased for once that the Devil hasn't shown up to ruin this moment. He can't remember the last time he and Dean had some time to relax.

"I got it." Sam tells his older brother and Dean steps back, ready to observe with a critical eye. Taking a deep breath, Sam turns his body slightly and then swings. He hits the ball and watches it fly, though it lands in a sand trap a bit too far left of what he had been attempting to reach. Still, it's close and Sam feels a bit proud—

"Wow, Sammy," The youngest Winchester freezes as Lucifer strolls up behind him. The Devil places a hand on his back and pain flares up. Sam groans, his knees buckling from the white-hot pain. Dean doesn't seem to notice, as if he's frozen in time. "Look at you! A real Tiger Woods, huh, Sammy?"

"You're not real." Sam grinds out, because dammit, he isn't real. He's out, Dean got him out, and he's pressing on the scar but nothing seems to be happening and Dean is still frozen.

"No, Sam," Lucifer smiles mischievously at him, grabbing the golf club and twirling it around. "This isn't real. None of it is. You're with me, bunk buddy!"

"No." Sam murmurs because Dean had seemed so real—

"I'm the Devil, Sammy," Lucifer replies. "I mean, what kind of guy would I be if I couldn't pull off that kind of illusion?"

"But—!"

"Hey, Sammy," The fallen angel continues, bringing the golf club close to Sam's head. "Why don't we see if I do any better, okay?"

And before Sam can open his mouth, Lucifer is swinging the club to his face and there's pain.

Then, nothing.

It's not real, Sammy, you gotta believe me, please snap out of it, please for me, please, Sammy, I'm real, we got you out, you're safe, whatever you're seeing isn't real, you are safe, I've got you—

"C'mon Sam!" Lucifer chuckles with demented glee and he hits Sam's broken body with the bloody golf club. "Talk to me! I think I'm doing pretty well for my first game. What do you think?"

"Dean, please." He's curled up in the fetal position, eyes closed, willing this to end, but he knows—he always knew—that Lucifer was right. He's still in the Cage. But . . . if that's true, why does he hear Dean's voice washing over him?

"Just an added effect," Lucifer answers. "I know you miss big brother."

He swings the club again and a rib shatters.

Believe in me Sammy, you gotta believe in me, trust me, I will never let him hurt you again, I will keep you safe, you're okay, open your eyes, please Sam, I need you to open your eyes, please, it's not real, please—

When he finally opens his eyes, Dean's worried face swims into view.

"Jesus," He swears, pulling Sam up from the ground. They're still at the golf course and quickly, the youngest Winchester glances down, but there's not a mark on him. He meets Dean's gaze and his older brother nods. "You're okay, Sammy."

"What—?"

"You tell me," Dean replies, worry giving way to slight anger. "One minute you were swinging a golf club and the next, you just went down."

"I thought . . ." Sam's voice trails off uncertainly and the eldest Winchester nods. Of course he knows what Sam thought. Dean's always known, even when Sam didn't.

"We got you out, Sammy," Dean whispers, voice breaking slightly. "You're safe. I promise you." It's a lie, though one needed by both parties. Dean can't protect Sam from his own mind and it's only a matter of time before the youngest Winchester snaps completely and never comes back from one of these episodes. Still . . . until that time came, Sam had to keep going. He didn't want to leave Dean and he would fight to stay with him.

"I know, Dean." He reaches out and reassuringly squeezes Dean's shoulder. "Now, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Yeah, okay." His brother is on autopilot, but hopefully the game will snap him out of this. Dean explains each step before he swings and Sam nods, just pleased to be able to be here to experience this with his brother.

Because, sooner or later, the Devil would take him back.

It was just a matter of when.

"Ain't that the truth, Sammy," Lucifer chuckles, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Ain't that the truth."

Author's Note: This chapter turned out darker than I had intended, but I liked it all the same. I hope you did too. Please review if you have a second!