The next morning came way too early for Sam. He woke up with both feet hanging off one side of the bed and his head was hanging off the other. He had slept with his mouth hanging open all night and now it was as dry as the Mojave Desert and his throat felt like it was covered in fur. When he tried to sit up, his head felt like a lead weight and it was pounding like there was someone with a hammer banging on the inside of his skull. A wave of nausea hit him and he had to swallow hard to keep from tossing his cookies in his lap. A loud banging on his door had Sam holding his head, trying to keep it from splitting open.

"SAM?", Dean yelled from out in the hallway. "SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OUTTA BED!" The door swung open and slammed against the wall. Dean stalked into the room and stood next to the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face was sort of a cross between pissed off and concerned. "Dammit, Sam, it's almost noon!" Dean switched on the overhead light and Sam groaned, covering his eyes with his arm.

"Just leave me alone, Dean", Sam growled, rolling onto his belly and throwing a pillow over his head. "I'm sick!"

"No, you're hung over!", Dean snapped. "Get the Hell up!" Dean grabbed the pillow out of Sam's hands and belted him in the back of the head with it.

"PISS OFF, DEAN!", Sam snarled, sitting up on the edge of the bed, facing away from his brother. "Just leave me alone." Dean sighed and threw the pillow back on the mattress. He stared at Sam's back, watching his shoulder slump and his head hang low. He walked around the bed and sat next to his brother. When he looked over at Sam's face, Dean could see tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Sammy?", Dean whispered. Sam looked away and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Uhh... nothing, Dean! I'm fine!" Sam stood up and walked over to the mirror and leaned heavily on the small sink underneath it.

"Talk to me, Sam!", Dean said, standing up. "I can't help you unless you talk to me!"

"I... I can't... I...", Sam croaked. He suddenly turned and vomited into the sink. Dean cringed. He hated it when people threw up. It made him feel like doing the same. He walked over and placed a comforting hand on Sam's back while he wretched into the porcelain basin. For some strange reason, Dean didn't think the alcohol had anything to do with it. Sam stood there, bent over the sink, panting with his eyes closed. When he tried to straighten back up, Sam stumbled backwards, landing hard on his backside. He slid backwards on his ass until his back hit the side of the bed. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. "I can't talk about it, Dean." Sam laid his forehead on his knees and was quiet.

"Sam, please", Dean whispered. He sat down on the floor next to Sam and wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder. He hated to see his brother in pain. Especially when he was powerless to make the pain go away. "Look, I know you're hurting, Sam. I just wanna help. Please don't shut me out." Sam looked up at his brother with bloodshot eyes that looked like they had seen a lifetime of torture and suffering. And for the most part, they had.

"I... I had... a h-horrible dream", Sam stuttered. "About Lucifer... and..." Sam's face scrunched up and he swallowed hard to keep the sob from escaping his throat. "And A-Amanda." His throat was starting to close up on him and he put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. "He... Lucifer... he was..." Sam couldn't hold back the sob anymore and angry tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes. Dean held him tight and waited patiently for him to get hold of himself. He knew what Sam was going to say, and it made him want to heave himself, but he knew that Sam needed to get this off his chest. To tell someone before it ate him up inside. "He was raping her, Dean!", Sam blurted out. Dean stayed quiet, letting the curses loose in his mind. He didn't know what would come out if he tried to speak. "And that's not the worst part." Dean looked at his brother confused. Worse? Worse than the Devil raping his sister?

"Wha...what do you mean, Sammy? How could it get any worse than that?", Dean whispered.

"It wasn't just Lucifer doing it", Sam croaked. "It... it was m-me." Sam looked up into Dean's eyes as he spoke. "He was wearing me, Dean! It was me doing that to her!" He was suddenly shouting in Dean's face, his voice full of pent up rage.

"No, Sammy", Dean whispered. "It was just a Dream. It wasn't real."

"It didn't feel like a dream", Sam grumbled, hiding his face in his hair. "It felt real. It felt like..." Sam looked up, staring at the wall, lost in thought.

"Felt like what, Sam?" Dean had a dreadful feeling that he was going to be sorry he asked.

"It felt like one of my visions." Sam finally looked over at Dean again and Dean shuttered involuntarily.

"You mean the visions from Lucifer?", Dean asked. He knew the answer, but was hoping he was wrong.

"Yeah", Sam whispered back. "Do... do you think Lucifer could be putting these images in my head?" Sam looked at Dean terrified.

"Relax, Sammy. It was just a dream.", Dean tried to sooth. He was worried. Worried that Sam was right. But he didn't want to admit that to his brother and he certainly wouldn't admit that to himself. So he did his best to convince them both that Sam was wrong. "After everything Lucifer said and did in that holding cell, I'm surprised that all of us aren't having nightmares." Sam just nodded with a sigh. He supposed Dean was right. It was probably just his exhausted brain playing tricks on him. He didn't want to believe that it was happening again. "Hey, why don't you go get a shower because, let's face it, you stink!" Sam snorted a laugh at his brother's lame joke. "And I'll go make us some lunch. How 'bout some of my famous Deanburgers, huh? You know you love 'em!"

"Yeah, OK. Thanks Dean", Sam whispered, looking over at his brother. "For everything." Dean smiled at Sam and stood up. He reached a hand out to Sam and helped him up off the floor.

"Hey! That's what family is for." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and walked from the room. The door clicked closed quietly behind him and Sam was left alone. Again. He walked over to the sink again and looked at himself in the small mirror.

"Pull it together, man!", Sam growled at his reflection. "It was just a dream!" He wished that he could believe that. He wanted to. But he really didn't. He had had enough visions to know that this was very different from an ordinary dream. He did his best to put it out of his mind. He spent more time in the shower than he really needed to, just letting the hot water sooth away the knots in his tired and stressed out muscles. All the time trying to not think about anything. Just concentrating on the feel of the water on his body. By the time he was out of the shower and dressed, Sam was feeling better. The dream was still there in the back of his mind, but he had managed to keep it there. Chained in a dark and deserted corner.

Sam walked out into the long hallway and shut the door quietly. If Amanda was in her room, he didn't want her to hear him coming out. He didn't know if he could face her without losing it completely. He just needed time to forget. Sam didn't get more than a few steps before he heard a door creak open behind him. He froze, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. 'NO! NOT NOW! PLEASE! I CAN'T! NOT RIGHT NOW!', Sam screamed inside his head.

"Sam? Can I talk to you?"