Thanks for your patience as I work to update this story. And thank you SO much to TwistedDuck, scootersmom, whatnosheep, and SamSpiritWinchester for your lovely comments!

I've been trying to incorporate lots of comfort but hurt always manages to sneak in there...

Sam sat in the kitchen working on a bowl of soup, oblivious to the silent conversation going on between Dean and Bobby. Exhaustion was blunting his senses and all he could focus on was the simple task of eating. Bobby wanted Dean to ask Sam what the hell had happened with Justin. Dean wanted to let the kid eat. Bobby crossed his arms and gave Dean a stern look, mouthing 'my house, my rules'. Dean relented and took a seat across from Sam.

"So, uh, Sam, you wanna give us any more details about what happened today?"

Sam froze, the spoon on its way to his mouth now hanging idly while broth dripped into the bowl. 'Details about what? The hunter?'

"No, I don't care about him. Tell me what was going through your head when you blasted him away."

'I, uh, I don't know, Dean. I couldn't deal with it, with him, with any of it. I felt that pain and then I was back there and everything went white…' Sam flicked his eyes up to Bobby. 'I'm sorry about your windows, Bobby. I'll do whatever I have to replace them. I'll—I'll get a job to pay for it. And help install them.'

Bobby had to hold his laugh in. This broken kid who could barely dress himself was going to get a job and pay him back for the windows? Yeah, and he was Dolly Parton. But Sam was earnest and Bobby found he couldn't dash the boy's hopes. "Don't worry about it. The things needed an upgrade anyway. I'm sure Dean won't mind helping me board 'em up before it gets dark?"

Dean nodded silently.

Sam weakly pushed his half-empty bowl away and made to stand up, but his faltering legs fought him. 'I'll help.'

Bobby stepped forward and softly pushed Sam back down into his seat. "You'll be helping if you finish this and then hit the hay."

'But—'

"Sam." Bobby said flatly, a hint of an order in his voice.

The younger Winchester put his head down and picked up his spoon. Dean frowned and looked at Bobby, who returned it with a shrug. Someone has to look out for Sam if he won't, his expression seemed to say. Dean sighed and settled in to wait for Sam to finish. This whole thing sucked.

Sam took the stairs one at a time, gripping the railing as if his life depended on it. He was winded by the time he got to the top. Dean silently guided him towards their bedroom. Sam sat on the bed, wringing his hands. His muscles were taut and apprehension practically radiated off of him.

"Do you want some sleeping pills?"

Sam's eyes got wide and he shook his head vigorously. 'No, no pills. Nothing like that.'

Dean resisted the urge to run his hand down his face in exasperation. "C'mon, it'll help take the edge off. Just for tonight."

Sam turned to stare at Dean and the light in his eye flared. 'I said no.'

Dean took a step back inadvertently. "Why not?"

Sam looked away and knotted his fingers together so hard his knuckles were turning white. 'Because…'

"Yeah?"

Sam gulped hard. 'I don't want to be that vulnerable again. Not in control of all my senses. It's too much like being back there.'

Dean let out an unhappy huff. "I get it, Sammy. I won't bring it up any more." He paused for a moment then decided to go for it. "Did they drug you a lot?" he asked gently.

'Uh, not so much in the beginning. But when they started having some problems controlling me on the blood, they would. Or if they were trying to throw a cage match. Or when—' He stopped, unwilling to share with Dean even a speck of what had happened to him during his time with Creedy and Master Benji. He couldn't think of all those hands on him, each new and excited and so, so hungry. 'Or when they were going out for a while and didn't want me going anywhere. I've had lots of things… Stuff I didn't even know existed…'

"I won't make you take anything then." Dean sighed and rubbed his hands on his pants. "Well, holler if you need me. I'm gonna go help Bobby."

'Tell him I'm sorry.'

"You don't need to apologize. We're just glad to have you back, man. Goodnight, Sam."

'G'night, Dean.'

Sam wanted to believe Dean, he did, desperately. But that voice in his head kept telling him their relief was false, their sympathy was disappointment, their love was obligation. He tried to block them out, but the thoughts slashed at his fragile mind until he was drowning beneath their violent current.

He was falling in the darkness, plummeting endlessly through a quiet vacuum. He reached out for anyone, anything that could help him, but there was nothing. He was nothing. Just melting into the blackness, slipping away to effervescent vapor that would dissipate in the void. No, no, there had to be something he could do, some way he could escape, he had to!

His newfound determination was answered by sudden pain erupting from his back as he collided with something solid and unforgiving. He flung his arms out to push himself up but was instead gripped by several approximations of hands. Some slippery, some like sand paper, some with textures that were constantly morphing. They multiplied, hands grabbing and clawing and wanting. They covered his skin, tearing at him, leeching his life force by their very contact. Fingers explored his face, trying to dive into eye sockets, some into his nostrils, others plied his lips and demanded entry. Eventually he cried out, screaming for help, begging the darkness to either release him or swallow him whole, just not this. Not this continual violation by invisible assailants against which he had no means to fight back. Fingers pushed inside his mouth and cranked his jaw open as more and more battled for access. They dragged his limbs in different directions and he felt his joints start to separate under the strain. He pulled in reverse but it only served to make the dislocations that much more painful when the joints finally gave way.

A pinprick of light shone above him and he called out to it, pleading for rescue. The light grew in intensity, surging towards him with an ominous presence. As spindles of light struck the invading hands, they crumbled to dust and blew away in a non-existent breeze. Soon the full force of the light was upon him and he belatedly realized that he had somehow summoned Lucifer to his aid. He tried to stare defiantly into the blaze but his eyes couldn't handle it and he clenched them shut.

'You have disappointed me, Sam,' the ethereal light chastised. 'We were so close to unity and yet you rejected me.'

"And I would do it again!" he challenged. "I've never wanted to be one with you and I never will!"

An echoing laugh rolled around his brain. 'We'll see about that…'

The voice was so sure that he almost doubted himself. He shook his head to free his mind of the thought. "What can you possibly do to me now that they haven't before?! If I didn't say 'yes' then, there's no chance I will now!"

The light flared angrily for a moment, heat blistering his skin. 'Yes, now you have hope, and you think that will be your redemption. But I think you'll find out hope can be the most poisonous belief of all.'

A hand landed on his arm and he violently tore himself out of its grip and scrambled away. 'Touch me again and it will be the last thing you do!' he screamed, letting energy flow outwards and create a protective shield around him.

"Dammit, Sam! Stop! It's Dean!"

Sam halted abruptly, his power withering away and his eyes cracking open. No blinding light seeped in, no creepy hands attacked. Just Dean lit by the light from the hall, concern written all over his face.

"You were having a nightmare and I tried to wake you up. What the hell was that?"

Sam surreptitiously felt along his body for any new injuries. He was fine. 'L-like you said, nightmare.'

"Nothing more?"

What, like Lucifer trying a new brand of psychological warfare? He shook his head. 'Just a nightmare. What time is it?'

"Breakfast! Came to wake you up for that and you were shaking in your sleep."

Sam bit his lip, unsure how to respond. He'd thought maybe it really had been a nightmare… Lucifer had never appeared to him in that form before. But perhaps things were different now, now that he'd almost been possessed, now that he'd managed to break free of Lucifer's trap… For the moment… Would he come back? What other things could he try? He had the feeling he was going to find out whether he wanted to or not.

"No point obsessing over it if it was just a nightmare. C'mon, get dressed and come downstairs. It's a nice day out," Dean encouraged.

With that Dean left, allowing Sam some privacy to collect his thoughts and go through his morning routine by himself.

Sam slid into the seat and poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. He tried to lift the gallon of milk but found he wasn't strong enough. Without missing a beat, Dean came over and picked it up, pouring out the exact amount Sam liked: enough to get the cereal wet but not drown it so everything got soggy.

Sam smiled feebly up at Dean then began eating. Dean toyed with his toast, preoccupied with what to say to Sam about training. He didn't want to push the kid too hard, but it was getting out of control. Sam didn't miss the apprehension streaming off Dean. 'What's wrong?'

Dean looked at him, hesitating. "I know you just woke up, and you're not even really back on your feet, but I think we need to start figuring out your powers. At the rate we're going, Bobby won't have a house left by the end of the week!"

Sam hunched in and looked down. 'I'm sorry—'

"You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry I have to push you into it like this. I know you're not ready but we gotta get a handle on this."

'I get it. As long as you don't beat me for failing, it'll be fine.'

There was a trace of humor in Sam's voice but it struck Dean's soul like a lead weight. "They'd do that to you?"

Sam shrugged. 'Mostly when I couldn't exorcise as many demons at once as they wanted. Or when they bet on me in a monster fight and I lost.'

"And by lost, you mean…"

'I died.' Dean closed his eyes in pain. 'But hey, I always came back! Thanks Satan, I guess.'

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, thanks Satan… Like I've always wanted to say that and mean it… Well, I figure the easiest thing to test would be the range of your telepathy. You feel up for that?"

'I think so. What did you wanna do?'

"Uh, basically walk apart until we can't hear each other anymore? I mean, it's not rocket science…"

Sam nodded minutely. 'True.'

Dean pushed himself off the counter and strode through the living room towards the front door. He pulled it opened and turned, frowning when Sam wasn't right behind him. "You coming or what?"

'Where, outside?'

"Duh, outside. I doubt the house is big enough for really anything."

There was a pause and then Sam shakily answered 'How about you walk away from the house and I just stay here?'

Dean was about to acquiesce out of distraction when his big brother senses kicked in. "Sam?" He walked back to the kitchen and peered inquisitively at Sam.

Said little brother nervously glanced up at Dean and then back at the table. 'I don't know if I'm ready to go out there.'

"Outside?"

Sam acknowledged him with a stiff jerk of his head.

"It'll just be you and me. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Sam didn't respond and didn't move.

"It's Bobby's junkyard. I know you remember it as well as I do. You'll be alright."

Sam's throat convulsed anxiously. 'Don't wanna.'

"Sam," Dean huffed. "You can do this. I know you can."

'Y-you don't understand. The last time I went outside of my own volition was when the car broke down, when th-they captured me. Ever since then, it hasn't been me in control.'

Discomfort curled along Dean's spine. "And you feel like I'm controlling you?"

This time Sam looked up and held Dean's gaze. 'No, not exactly. I… I don't know, Dean, I'm just so fucking scared,' he whispered.

Dean bit his lip, debating what to do. "I can't claim to know what you're going through, but I'd stake my love of bacon on it that you doing this will make you feel better. It'll give you some power back. You got this."

Sam dropped his eyes away. 'And if I can't?'

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. Think you can at least try, for me?" Dean knew it was an underhanded tactic but damn if it didn't have Sam pushing himself up from the table and making his way to the door. Slowly. But Dean never expected Sam's progress to be a sprint.

Sam almost made it to do the door, his hand reaching out tentatively, when Dean started to pick up on the soft panic emanating from Sam's mind. Flashes of Justin, of the hunter's smiling face as he pushed Sam inside and cut into him, sped through Dean's head. Dean darted ahead of Sam, opened the door, and stepped through, making a show of looking around and confirming he was the only person out on the porch.

'C'mon, come towards me, it'll be okay,' Dean gently urged.

Sam took halting steps forward, eyes darting around frantically, seeking out the threat. As he approached the threshold, he centered his gaze on Dean, transplanting Dean's certainty, convincing himself to cross over. He slowly brought both feet out, fists pumping in an uneasy rhythm.

"See, you made it!" Dean said approvingly, feeling the ripple of satisfaction in Sam's mind. "Now, how about you sit on the steps and I'll go further away and we'll see what happens, yeah?"

'O-okay.' Sam pushed himself forward, almost dragging his long limbs and manually directing them where to go. He held on to the banister as he slid down and sat on the top step. Dean shivered slightly in the morning chill but Sam didn't seem to notice.

"You good?" Dean asked, ready to step back. Sam gave him a thumbs up and a poorly managed smile. Dean walked back about 15 feet. 'You hear me?'

'Loud and clear.'

Another 15 feet. 'How about now?'

'Yeah.'

He went out to 50 feet. 'Can you hear me now?'

'We're not using Verizon, so yeah.'

'Ooh, good one, Sammy.'

They kept going until they were about 250 feet away. 'Now?'

'Getting a little harder to hear you.'

'You, too.'

By 350 feet, they were out of range. As Dean walked back to the house, he idly wondered if they could improve on that distance with training. And what if there were buildings or stuff between them? Did that matter? Questions for another time.

"So what else do you know or remember about your powers?" he inquired as he got close.

Sam's gaze dropped to the ground and his fingers started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Sam, I'm not upset about this. I mean, I was, but that was before I saw the big picture. I don't think it's a bad thing you have these abilities. In some ways, you've always had them, we just didn't know. Bobby pointed out that it's probably gonna be worse for you to try to suppress them than learn how to use them. So you don't need to be ashamed. I'm not ashamed of you."

Sam looked up at him and the shining hope in Sam's eyes was nearly enough to tear Dean's soul. 'You really mean that?'

"No, Sam, I'm just saying it for my own benefit," he sassed.

Sam smiled slightly. 'You know, if I wanted to, I could read your mind and figure out if you're lying.'

Dean eyed Sam carefully. "For real? Or are you just messing with me?"

Sam seemed to feel the change in Dean from playful to suspicious and he shifted his gaze away. 'I can. I mean, I've only ever done it with demons when I was on the blood, but seeing as I can do other stuff now that I could only do when I was powered up, I don't see why I couldn't read people, too.'

"Have you read me or—"

'No!' Sam flung him a hurt glance. 'I wouldn't invade your privacy like that. Most I've done is felt emotions, usually strong emotions, from you or Bobby. I thought Bobby was scared of me earlier but he said he was scared for me. I guess context is pretty important…'

"Hmm… Well, how about we try it?"

'What, me trying to read your mind?'

"Yeah! It could be like a game. We'll start easy and then I'll try to hide my thoughts and we'll see if you can still read 'em. Whaddya say?"

Sam bit his lip as he mulled it over. 'Okay...'

"Alright, good. So. What am I thinking right now?" Apple pie at Thanksgiving last year.

Sam closed his eyes and concentrated. Dean could feel a subtle pressure in his head. Sam's nose twitched as if smelling the pie. 'You're thinking about that apple pie we picked up from a bakery for Thanksgiving. The one with the woven top and the little flower made of apple slices.'

Dean smiled. "Yeah! You got it!"

Sam nodded, seeming a little pleased. 'Next.'

"I'm gonna think about two things and you'll have to tell me which one I like more." Sleeping in or blasting tunes in my Baby.

Dean again felt that weight around his brain and it lingered longer.

'Waking up late or listening to music in the Impala. You love your beauty sleep but definitely the second one.'

Dean bobbed his head in agreement. "Guilty as charged. It's weird, I can kinda feel it when you do it, like something is pressing against my head. It doesn't hurt or anything, but it is noticeable."

Sam frowned. 'Then it may not be good for anything. Not if people can tell I'm doing it.'

Dean shrugged. "Maybe it's just a matter of training. Don't worry about it yet. Let's try something harder, maybe something in my subconscious or unconscious."

'But how will you know you're thinking it if you're not aware you're thinking it?'

"I'll know! I know my own thoughts. Just, shut up and try, will you?"

Sam cowered slightly but recovered quickly. He dropped his head a bit as he concentrated more. Dean closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind as blank as possible, thinking of gentle waves sloshing against an empty beach. He felt the intrusion of Sam's consciousness into his own; he could tell that it wasn't difficult for Sam but that his brother was still being careful.

Warmth spread through him as a thought was pulled to the forefront of his mind. 'Lindsey has the same effect on you as she does on me… Hard to be closed off around her. She's good people.'

'Yeah, she is,' Dean agreed.

The pressure increased marginally and Dean didn't fight it. He let the soft force push inwards, going deeper into his mind. He continued focusing on his seaside distraction. He watched a small shell get pushed and pulled by the waves, enjoying the lazy pace until the water suddenly turned blood red. Then he heard Sam's frantic, panicked denials. He tried to grasp Sam's psyche as it ripped out of him but he was too slow and pain slashed through him. His eyes sprung open and he saw Sam hunched in on himself. He was rocking with his hands over his ears. What the fuck had he seen?

'No, no, no, no, no, not gonna happen, no…'

Dean crouched down. "Sam. Sammy, c'mon. I'm going to pull your hands away and you can tell me what you saw, okay? I'm touching you in 3… 2… 1…"

He grabbed Sam's wrists and pulled away, relieved that Sam didn't flinch or otherwise fight him. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders and slowed the rocking. "Tell me what you saw. It's my own head so nothin's going to surprise me."

Sam took a few deep, hiccupping breaths before steadying himself. 'I saw th-them, and you were carving them up like they were on the rack in Hell, but they weren't tied down. I was holding them in place with my power and torturing them, too… My eyes were black and I was grinning… No, no, I don't ever want to drink that stuff again, not even for revenge… Please, please don't make me…'

Dean gulped with regret and mentally punched himself. He had been thinking about revenge quite a bit and it seemed obvious now that his fantasies would be lurking in his unconscious. More often than not, his plans did include Sam, especially a powered-up Sam, punishing them with the very same abilities they had forced him to discover. Only he hadn't expected Sam to react so negatively to it all, the black eyes especially. Maybe the memory of demon blood and withdrawal were too fresh? It didn't matter right now, anyway. He had a little brother to console.

He sat on the step and wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him in. "I'm sorry, I didn't think any of this through, I didn't think about how this could mess with you." He repeatedly ran his hand over Sam's hair in a soothing motion. "I do want to make those fuckers pay, but I'm not going to do anything you don't want to do, Sam. Hurting them isn't worth losing you. Nothing's worth that."

'I don't want to be evil, Dean.' His voice was so feeble and afraid.

"You're not, and you won't be. We won't let that happen, I promise."

'It's too late. I'm already ruined. The evil is a part of me. Don't you get it?'

Dean shook his head. "No, Sam, you're wrong. That's just shit they told you to keep you down. You're not—"

'Then why am I Lucifer's meatsuit? How can I be anything but evil if I'm meant to house the greatest evil in the world?'

Dean sighed. How was he going to explain himself out of this one? "Dude, no. Just because you're his vessel, that doesn't mean you're evil. Think about it. Vessel. Just because the cup has poison in it, that doesn't mean the cup is bad, does it? The cup is just a cup. You and I aren't good or bad. We're just cups in this whole shitshow."

'But who'd want to drink out of a cup that had poison in it? No matter how many times it's been washed, you never could be quite sure, could you? Better to just get rid of it and get another one.'

"Okay, maybe that was a shitty example but my point is still the same. And besides, I can't get another brother, and I don't want to get another brother. I like the one I got and he's right here." He gave Sam a little squeeze for emphasis.

'You don't need to lie, Dean. Everything you're doing is more than enough for me.'

Dean's brow furrowed in anger. "I'm not lying! Why would I lie about this?" Sam didn't respond. "Hm?" Dean asked as he gave Sam a light shake.

'Because how could someone like you still care about someone like me?' Dean opened his mouth to interrupt but Sam plowed on and Dean wanted to hear what he had to say. 'They said I was lucky Dad wasn't alive anymore because he woulda put me down the first whiff of something off. And that the only reason you didn't was because Dad had brainwashed you to protect me. After Lilith, you knew the truth, knew how corrupted I was. They said we had to keep moving because if you ever found me, you'd find a way to send me to Hell, where I belonged, even if that meant going back down yourself. That I was so evil, you'd be willing to sacrifice your shot at Heaven just to lock me away and spend the rest of eternity torturing me because that's what I deserved. And I do, I do deserve that, but not you, I don't want you to go back there ever, please, Dean, don't do it…'

Dean sighed as Sam fought to control his sobs. He buried his face in Sam's hair and pulled his brother's trembling body to his. "Sam. Listen to me. Even if you did deserve it, I would never send you to Hell, and I would never torture you. But since you don't deserve any of that bullshit, you need to put all that out of your mind. They were saying whatever they could to fuck you up. And I see it now, that this is gonna take a long time to fix. So whenever you start doubting yourself, or doubting what I think about you, you come talk to me. Chick flick moments be damned, making sure you're okay is more important. Got it?"

Sam nodded shakily and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist. 'I'll try my best to remember that, I promise.'

"Good. Now, tell me what I'm thinking."

Sam sniffed a few times then stilled against Dean as he focused. 'That if I don't finish my soup tonight, you'll put itching powder in my pillowcase?'

"Bingo. So you better eat all that soup!"

'Jerk.'

"Bitch."

Dean helped his brother up to bed, despite Sam's protests. He tried to hide it, but Dean could tell that being awake and poking at his powers had tired Sam out. Dean made a mental note to make sure he paced Sam. Too much and they could step backwards. Dean shut out the lights and was about to close the door when Sam reached out.

'Dean?'

"Yeah?"

'I, uh, remember some other things, if-if you want to hear them…'

"Other powers? Only if you want to tell me, Sam." Please tell me, I need to know!

Dean stepped back into the room and his hand was moving toward the light switch when Sam asked 'Can we keep the lights off?'

"Sure." Dean found his way to the chair and flopped into it.

Sam was silent for a few moments. Dean waited. He didn't have anywhere to be except here for Sam.

'When I had demon blood, I could do all the same stuff as before: hold demons, exorcise them, kill them. But I can also hear their thoughts. And I can almost… sniff them out? It's weird. But I always know exactly where they are if they're somewhat close. If I had the blood of a particular demon, I was sometimes able to control them. Like, they became my puppet. I could see through their eyes and feel what they felt. We both know the telekinesis applies to both objects and people… I'm… I'm so sorry about that, Dean. That you had to shoot me and run me over. That must have been pretty traumatizing.'

Dean had to simultaneously suppress a snort and a sob. "Understatement of the year. I knew you'd come back, but it was still the worst thing I've ever done. But I don't blame you. It wasn't really you."

Sam's glowing eye shifted from looking at the floor to looking at Dean. It was the sole light in the void and Dean somehow felt exposed with Sam's stare focused on him. 'That's not entirely true.'

"Whatever. It wasn't the you that's here now and that's what matters. So, any other new abilities?"

Sam's gaze drifted away. 'There's times where I feel like there might be more, like I'll feel the tug of my power towards something, but nothing else that I can control well.'

"Like what?"

'There was a wendigo we were hunting. They used me as bait. They found me in the den but couldn't get close enough to trap it or set it on fire. It was coming at me and I didn't want to get torn up, again, so I thought about what it felt like to burn and then directed it towards the wendigo. I don't know how, but it worked. It caught fire out of nowhere and went up in flames. I was never able to do it again. A couple of times, when I was really close to death, I would be able to touch something and it would die with me.'

Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. This shit was all over the map. Touching something and killing it tickled something in his brain, some long-buried memory. "That last part… Why do I feel like I've heard of that before?"

'One of the other special children, Lily, could stop people's heart with her touch.'

God, Azazel's special children. Dean hadn't thought about them in forever. "What about visions? Did your original power come back?"

'There were times I wondered if the visions were back, but I just chalked it up to me dreaming or having a nightmare.'

"I thought your visions were pretty distinct from your normal dreams and nightmares?"

'They were, but my life was a nightmare and I didn't believe that my dreams would ever come true.'

"What would you dream about?"

'Well, it was mostly Lucifer trying to convince me to say 'yes'.'

"You counted that as a dream?" Dean asked skeptically.

'It was a break in the suffering. Good enough for me. But when he wasn't there, I usually dreamed about you, and Bobby… About you taking me back… There were times they felt like a vision but I knew they couldn't be the future…'

"Aww, Sammy," Dean whispered and reached a hand out. He found Sam's shoulder and squeezed it tightly.

Sam's mental voice dropped to a whisper. 'I never thought I'd see you again. And if I did, I didn't think you'd want to see me.'

"Every day I regret letting you walk away. I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I'd given up on you. Man, I was pissed, and scared, and mixed up, and I didn't know what to do. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Sam lifted his head to look at Dean and the glow of Sam's eye seemed to pulse slightly. Flickering warmth percolated through Dean. 'I get it. I do.' Sam's voice had regained its strength. 'I never meant to disappoint you so fundamentally. I couldn't deal with being around you knowing how much I'd let you down in every way that mattered. But I want you to know that I held on because of you. I didn't say 'yes' because of you. Lucifer warned me that my soul was burning away and that eventually I'd—'

Dean's blood turned to slush. "What?" he gasped.

'What?' Sam sounded confused.

"Your soul burning away. What does that mean?"

Dean felt Sam's shoulder shrug under his hand. 'I'm, uh, not sure. But I knew he was right. There was less of me to fight back the longer everything went on. Anyway, I knew I couldn't give in, because you'd find a way to get Lucifer out just to kick my ass into next week.'

"Damn straight I would!"

Sam let out an amused huff of air but his tone was somber. 'I know I'm so broken and I feel bad that you have to be here to pick up the pieces, like always.'

"And I always will. Because I want to. Nothing's gonna change that."

Sam nodded and was about to respond when he was interrupted by a yawn.

"Alright, catch some sleep and I'll wake you up for lunch. Sound like a deal?"

'Yeah…'

Dean stood and moved toward the door.

'Thanks, Dean,' he murmured sleepily.

"You got it, Sammy." He quietly slipped out the door and rushed down the stairs, the need to relay all this to Bobby making his chest ache.

Dean hurried into the living room to find Bobby measuring the windows for replacements. "Bobby, we need to talk," he said urgently.

Bobby startled and dropped his tape measure. "What's going on?"

"Sam told me that, according to Lucifer, his soul was burning away. What the hell does that mean? Is he okay now?"

Fuck! Bobby's thoughts scrambled for a response, trying to decide whether to tell Dean about the diamond of darkness or not. "I'm not sure… I have given it some thought and—"

"Wait, you knew?!" Dean hurled out the words in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me? What else do you know?"

Bobby put his hands up. "Not a lot, Dean. Just some stuff Sam said to me yesterday. He told me that at one point he thinks Lucifer may have actually possessed him when he was at the end of his rope—"

"But I thought all angels needed consent."

"They do, but Sam thinks there was so little of his soul left that Lucifer didn't need consent anymore. He said he felt like he had wings and was thinking Lucifer's thoughts. But that hearing your voice, knowing you were there, allowed him to fight back."

Dean simultaneously felt the floor drop out from under him and a surge of relief. His voice fled him for a few seconds. "He told me the same thing, well, that because of me, he was able to fight back…" Dean's expression became thoughtful, albeit tinged with horror. "Were we really that close to losing him?" Dean caught Bobby's eyes and the two men exchanged deep-seated fears.

"It appears so, but I think we're safe now."

"What allowed it to get so bad? How could Lucifer get in without Sam's permission? How do we stop that happening again? Where did his soul even go?" Dean asked in rapid fire.

I'm working on it, son, Bobby wanted to say. But he was afraid of what would happen if Dean knew about the diamond of darkness. Dean had a history of shooting first and asking questions later. This wasn't something they could afford to be hasty with. The damage to Sam could be immense. Even more than he was already experiencing. No, he had to tread carefully with this. He would only tell Dean when it was absolutely necessary.

"I don't know. Maybe Sam will know more but when I tried to talk to him about it, it didn't go very well…" Bobby shook his head. "We'll sort it out. Don't worry about it for now, alright?"

Dean looked flabbergasted. "You're asking me to not worry about Sam? About his soul?" Dean scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that!"

"Dean, we got a lot of fires to put out here. This is just one of them. One day at a time, alright?"

Dean grumbled in agreement but Bobby could see the worry circling around Dean like a noose. Maybe he could throw the boy a bone.

"I'm looking into it, and so is Missouri. We'll figure this out, Dean, I promise."

Dean sighed but forced a smile on his face. "I know we will. I know I'm not stopping until Sam's back on his feet. Whatever that looks like."

Bobby nodded in affirmation then looked to the shattered window. "Let's finish with these windows and then we'll figure out what to do next. Deal?"

"Deal," Dean answered, even though part of him hated that word. A deal was what had started this. He feared what deal might be necessary to get Sam back in fighting shape. He swallowed down his anxiety and focused on the task at hand.

One day at a time.