Sam… couldn't sleep.

He tried, of course. He must have laid there for hours with his eyes shut, trying to sleep, but the problem was that he couldn't keep them shut. He found himself blinking up at the ceiling instead, wondering how and when he'd even opened his eyes and trying in vain to force them shut again. He wasn't drunk, hardly really buzzed as it was, but his mind was just foggy enough to give off the sense that something was wrong. Not sleeping wasn't really rare for the hunter - recently especially - but even though the threat had passed and they had won, Sam couldn't help but wonder if it was really over. Chuck was gone, yeah, and he was their main problem, but there were still other things. He found his thoughts trailing to Lucifer more often than not; he tried not to think of the Devil as a problem, he really did. He knew he was… innocent, mostly. Learning that he hadn't actually tortured him in the Cage had been an oddly pleasant surprise, and it had helped him loosen up toward Lucifer a lot more. But he couldn't shake his wariness.

He did have a good reason, he mused, as he rolled over onto his stomach and stuffed his arms under his pillow, pressing half of his face into it with a sigh. After everything he'd been through… and the Cage wasn't all of the problem - but Sam would be lying if he said it wasn't a big part of it. There were still so many things Lucifer had done, things Sam knew logically were beyond the Devil's control. Maybe one day, he tried to convince himself, one day he'd be comfortable with it. With him. Maybe one day he'd be able to forgive and forget. He was already trying, already heading down that road. He didn't want to live in bitterness, and fear, and wariness. And he didn't really think it was the forgiving thing he had a problem with, really… just the forgetting.

Sam took in a breath and sighed, releasing it slowly as if doing so would drain the rest of his tension. It didn't work, and it didn't really make him feel any better, but his body itself seemed to relax a little bit more on instinct. He was just a bundle of frayed nerves at that moment, which he supposed were just hunter's instincts kicking in. Thinking about Lucifer often did that to him.

He sighed again, an oddly soft sound that didn't quite betray the self-loathing building up through the hunter's veins right then. Lucifer had been dealt as bad a hand as the rest of them.

Sam knew that. Logically, he knew that. When his emotions failed to cooperate with him, he tended to try and look at things from a more logical perspective, to step back from his feelings and work through it like it was some kind of puzzle or a test or a case. He filtered through the options, things he knew as facts and things that had been warped over the years, things his mind had conjured up to make sense of the things that had happened to him in Hell. Lucifer wasn't the villain. He had been, Sam would admit. He'd been the worst one they'd faced. But that was a long time ago, and knowing what he knew now, Sam found it… almost impossible to hold the Devil at fault for the things he'd done back then. Chuck had written him into their story as the villain, something far beyond Lucifer's control. And these past few weeks, he'd seen a side of Lucifer he didn't ever think he would. He was softer, but not sickly sweet and condescendingly gentle like he used to be when he was trying to convince Sam to let him in. It seemed genuine this time, like… like it had been when he and Chuck had almost made up. Lucifer had proven then that he was capable of being better. Hell, he'd only slipped when…

Sam grimaced and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, shaking his head at himself. He'd only gone back to his old ways when Chuck had just up and left with Amara, without any concern for his son. Whatever he might feel about Lucifer, Sam couldn't help but be angry on the Devil's behalf for the way Chuck had treated him. In a way, he supposed, maybe he could relate to it. He'd be lying if he said that thought didn't scare him a little. But of all the things that he could relate to Lucifer about, daddy issues were probably the best thing on that list, if he was honest.

Sighing, the hunter cracked an eye open again and frowned. He was too tired for this right now.

Rolling back onto his back, he shoved his arms above his head, wincing as he accidentally slammed his hands into his headboard a little too hard. He stayed still for a moment as his knuckles throbbed, a more irritating sensation than painful, before scooting himself down on the bed just enough to stuff his arms up under his head. He stayed like that for a moment, listening to the sound of his own breathing and looking up at the ceiling. His feet twitched, toes curling, shifting his legs every so often. He could hear his heartbeat, feel his heartbeat, when he laid too still. Moving helped stifle the feeling. He felt hot, and tired, and really not at all… happy. He didn't know why, he couldn't explain it. They'd won the battle against Chuck, they were free and they could live and do whatever they wanted now. He couldn't explain what he felt. Not unhappiness, not really. He wasn't sad or depressed or anything. He was just… not content.

Maybe it was just too soon after all the recent events. Maybe contentment would take a little while to settle in. The hunter turned his head slightly, looking toward the door, then let out a sigh and let his head turn the other way, settling his cheek against his arm and staring at the wall. Sleeping wasn't an option. He felt too restless to just lay here all night. He couldn't do anything. He could head to the library, maybe, go read… finish The Art Of War. Yet he didn't think he had the patience to sit and read for hours, and he didn't think he was awake enough to focus on it. He was tired, he wanted to sleep, but sleep wasn't coming. His buzzing nerves wouldn't let it.

His chest ached, a painfully cold feeling, and he swallowed it down as his heart stuttered in response, squirming slightly and curling his toes before forcing them all upwards again. His heart didn't calm, just quieted enough to allow Sam a brief moment of peace from the constant pounding against his chest. The base of his spine continued to tingle with that cold feeling though, creeping around to encircle his stomach in a vice-like grip he couldn't wriggle free from.

He looked at the clock and swallowed, stifling another sigh.

For a while, he stayed like that, tossing and turning and trying to keep his mind from wandering, but he couldn't stop focusing long enough to fall asleep. Eventually, when the sound of laughter - Dean's laughter, why the hell was he awake right now? - startled him out of what might have been the beginning of sleep, Sam simply decided to call it quits and get up for the day. He'd have a little extra coffee today, it was fine, maybe he'd take some sleeping pills when night rolled back around and go to bed early. So, begrudgingly, the hunter rolled over once more and pushed himself to sit up, sliding out of bed and getting up to begin his daily morning routine.

He made his bed, brushed his teeth - he could take a shower later, he decided - and left the room. The voices coming from the kitchen gave him pause, if only for a few seconds. He heard Dean's laughter, he heard Jack's voice, and… he could've sworn he heard Mary and John.

The hunter froze, just for a second, and continued forward slowly.

His legs felt weak once he'd reached the doorway. John and Dean were sitting at the table, Dean with a cup of coffee and John lightly twirling a piece of bacon, seemingly without any intention to eat it in the near future. Mary was leaning against the fridge beside Jack - who was as stiff as a board right then - and Sam wasn't sure what part of the scene surprised him more, the fact that his parents were there or the fact that Castiel was leaning over Dean from behind his older brother's chair, one arm wrapped around the hunter and the other reaching over his shoulder to grab the coffee. Dean swatted at him lightly, seemingly more playfully than anything, and Sam damn near fainted on the spot when Castiel pressed a quick kiss to the side of Dean's neck to distract him while he swiped the coffee from him, leaning back to take a sip of it.

Sam drew in a breath and opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. He didn't even know where to begin. His gaze was drawn back to Mary after a moment; while, undoubtedly, he was going to be talking to his brother about this thing with Cas later, the fact that his mother was there, alive, rendered him more speechless than anything else did at that moment. And there was also John, who Sam was both happy and surprised to see, but seeing Mary again made his throat close up, made his eyes sting. He swallowed back the lump rising in his throat, clearing it. "Mom?"

Mary turned her head at once, and John and Dean were quick to cut off and look up. Castiel, still with his arms around Dean, set the coffee cup down and straightened up a little more. Jack took the chance to take a few steps away from Mary while she was distracted, while the woman pushed herself forward and walked over to Sam. He ventured further into the room to meet her.

"Sammy," she breathed, pulling him into a hug. Sam couldn't stop the tears then, despite his best attempts to blink them back and stifle the pressure in his chest. He sucked in a shuddering breath and ducked his head to bury his face into her shoulder, feeling her hand on the back of his neck as she held him closer and offered a light squeeze. They stayed like that for a moment - mostly because Sam wasn't quite ready to let go - but when he did, he pulled back slowly, carefully, cautious as if his mother was made of glass and he could break her with any wrong move. Though, to be fair, he'd always felt like that - like he could move wrong, say something wrong, or just blink and she'd be gone. The hunter swallowed again, rubbing at his eyes.

"You're, uh…" Sam let his gaze trail up to where John was. His father smiled warmly at him, setting the bacon down and pushing himself to walk over, and Mary shuffled to the side to allow the older hunter to pull Sam into a hug of his own. Sam didn't hold on as long this time - not because he didn't want to, but because he knew his father probably didn't. But he held on for as long as John did, a little less careful but still just as happy to see him. "You're both- how did-"

Mary's gaze darted toward Jack at the same time Sam realized it, and the words died on his tongue at once as he looked toward the Nephilim, taking in his cautious but happy expression.

"Jack," he breathed out, surprised and proud and grateful and wanting to hug him, too.

So, he did. He eased himself past his parents and embraced the Nephilim - his son - tightly. Jack hugged him back, still careful, but Sam felt the boy squeeze him briefly as they hugged, and he returned the gesture gently before pulling away, giving him a warm smile. Jack's eyes were glistening, unshed tears on the surface, but he was smiling broadly at the hunter anyway. Finally, something warm, content, happy began to stir in Sam's gut, a hot rush of joy that left him floating for a second. He held onto it for as long as he could, mostly because he didn't know if it was going to last. But it was there for the moment, and after the night that he'd had, Sam was more than happy to let it linger. He clasped a hand over Jack's shoulder and blinked his own tears back, offering the boy another smile and a small nod before he turned away once more.

Dean caught his gaze and grinned as John took his seat again, lifting his cup toward Sam briefly before taking a sip. Sam watched him as he leaned his head back to rest it against Castiel's shoulder, and couldn't bite back a grin on time, watching the two for a moment. As weird as it was seeing them so openly affectionate with one another, it was only weird because Sam was so used to the sneaky glances and longing looks and lingering touches. It was different, but it was a good kind of different Sam knew he could get used to very quickly. "You're up early," Dean commented, and paused, arching his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, earlier than usual."

"Yeah, I…" Sam hesitated for a moment, breath caught as he stood still and debated on what he was about to say. But he said it anyway, letting his breath out in a sharp exhale and continuing, "couldn't sleep." He turned and swept his gaze around, heading over to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup, and bit back a tired smile when he felt Mary's worried gaze lingering on him. Not that he liked being worried over, he'd rather not concern them with his problems if he could help it, but the fact that Mary was there to worry about him at all right then overpowered that.

He could feel Dean's gaze, too; the familiar stare, the concern his brother wouldn't voice. Sam had to stifle another smile, pouring his coffee and staring down into the mug for a moment before he turned to one of the fridges to grab the milk. Silence fell over the room for a while, aside from Castiel and Dean mumbling back and forth to each other, 'give me some', 'go get your own', 'I don't want my own I just want a sip'. Mary eventually retreated over to where John was sitting, taking a seat beside him and pulling his plate toward her to finish his bacon off herself. Sam glanced over at where the rest of the food still sat on the stove, eggs and bacon and toast; he wasn't too hungry, but with the way Dean was staring at him, he figured if he didn't take something, his brother definitely would speak up, so he ended up grabbing a piece of toast.

"Alright," John sighed suddenly as Sam made his way over to sit down at the table, taking a seat beside Dean and Cas. His father leaned forward, crossing his arms. "About this Lucifer thing…"

"He's staying in the bunker," Dean told him simply.

Sam felt a flicker of surprise, just for a second, but it diminished quickly enough. It was hard to tell without John being around, but his brother had grown considerably the past fifteen years. Now, though, Sam could see it clearly, and he could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Dean wasn't John's good little soldier anymore. He didn't tense under John's gaze or say 'sir' after every sentence, and he looked John dead in the eyes as he spoke, with a calm certainty and confident air that made it clear he wasn't open to suggestions or asking permission. Sam wasn't angry with their father anymore; there were still certain things Sam knew they'd probably disagree on, especially with the stunned and somewhat irritated expression that flitted across John's face, but he wasn't angry. Still, he didn't think he'd ever been prouder of his older brother than he was at that moment. Dean had changed. Thinking about it now, Sam realized with a smile, they both had. Yes, he was very content right then…

"Dean," John began.

"Dad," Sam interrupted before he could stop himself, mostly on instinct. Dean didn't seem to mind, busy retrieving his coffee from Castiel to take another sip. "Really, it's, uh… it's okay. Trust me, I was a little tense about it at first too, but…" He trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I don't know how much they told you about Chuck- uh, God, but Lucifer isn't the-"

"Jack told us about the God thing." John shook his head slightly. He looked a little confused, as if he still didn't get the whole thing; Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, raising his eyebrows.

"Great." Dean leaned forward slightly, putting the mug down. He lifted his arms and weaved them around Castiel's after a moment, hooking them over the angel's lightly and reaching down to grab his hands. Sam couldn't keep himself from staring - not that he was really trying not to. "Then coming to terms with the whole Lucifer-isn't-really-the-villain-and-never-was thing shouldn't be too hard for you. I mean, hell, if Sam could do it." His older brother inclined his head toward him lightly, and Sam sank back a little in his seat despite himself. It was a valid point to make, of course, but the hunter couldn't help but question if he'd really done anything. He'd done what he had to do, the right thing to do, but did it really mean anything - giving Lucifer a chance - if he couldn't shake the uneasiness, the wariness, the fear? If he couldn't stop remembering the bad things that Lucifer had done, rather than focusing on the good things?

"It's the Devil," John insisted. He leaned forward a little himself, but when Mary reached out and placed a hand on his arm, John's entire demeanor seemed to shift. Sam couldn't help but stare, somewhat startled, as his father seemed to immediately relax under his wife's touch. The stormy expression on his face lightened considerably, all traces of anger gone as he looked over at the woman beside him. Mary smiled, somehow both comforting and chiding all at once.

"John. At least hear them out." Mary offered John's arm a light squeeze, throwing a smile toward her sons. "I'm not exactly part of Lucifer's fan club, but if you guys think this is the right call…"

John sighed, but he sank back in his seat. And that was that.

Sam exchanged another glance with Dean and saw his own amusement written clearly across his older brother's face. In an interesting turn of events, it seemed they had someone in their corner who could shoot their stubborn, bull-headed father down with a simple look and touch. Sam took another bite of his toast and tried not to laugh. John was whipped. He was whipped. This might be one of the best days of his life for a few reasons, but that in particular was going to stay high up on the list. John Winchester had one weakness, and it was Mary Winchester. And Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't planning on taking the chance to exploit that now that he could; he kind of wanted to see how far he could push John now that Mary was there. Well… he'd always been one for testing John's limits. Now he had a valid reason to keep doing it, since he couldn't really use being a rebellious, angsty teenager as an excuse anymore.

"Lucifer's just staying here for… however long?" Dean raised his eyebrows and rested his head back on Castiel's shoulder again, while the angel leaned down further to wrap his arms a little tighter around the hunter. "Honestly, I don't know if he's even planning to stay. If not, fine. If so, fine." He glanced at Sam, as if for confirmation, and continued on when he nodded, "he's not causing any trouble and he's not hurting anybody, and we've already planned out karaoke nights, and honestly it's really funny seeing him and Adam fight. So, point is, he can stay here."

"He and Adam fight?" John managed to look a little worried, but Sam couldn't help but laugh between bites of his toast, remembering the wrestling match that had taken place in the bunker.

"Cage wrestling." Dean rolled his eyes. "It's some weird thing with him and Adam and Michael. I don't know. And really, I don't wanna know. I just think it's funny watching my baby brother put the Devil in a headlock." At this, Sam had to smile to himself. The words 'baby brother' seemed to come from Dean so naturally, talking about Adam. Honestly, it felt natural. Despite everything, and the guilt Sam still couldn't shake regarding everything with Adam, he was their baby brother and Sam loved him, and he knew Dean loved him. They were both trying to be better brothers, now that they could without Chuck dictating their lives. The hunter hummed softly to himself and finished off the rest of his toast, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning back with a smile.

"Speaking of Lucifer, he's gonna have one hell of a hangover."

Dean and Jack laughed a little at that, and even Castiel snorted out a chuckle.

"Man, so are Adam and Michael," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not looking forward to a hungover Adam. Think we can put him in a devil's trap 'til it's over?" He rolled his head around to look at Sam and the hunter shot his older brother a look, raising his eyebrows slightly at him. Dean shrugged in response and leaned back further into Cas's arms, grinning widely at Sam. "No? No. You're right. The archangel thing could cancel that out. Holy fire instead, then."

"Dean," Sam reprimanded, but he couldn't bite back a grin anyway. "No."

"He's gonna rip our heads off," Dean told him. "You know he's gonna rip our heads off."

"Michael won't let him." Sam honestly had more faith in that than anything. He knew Adam didn't hate them anymore, but he also knew his grumpy brother and a hangover were a recipe for disaster. Even Sam had some issues not being snappy when he was hungover; Adam was already snappy, and Dean was right about one thing. Sam was not looking forward to that.

"And the Michael thing…" John started.

"He's not dangerous either. And I'd avoid saying anything to Adam about it," Sam added quickly, glancing over at his father and offering a half-smile. "Or, uh… he'll definitely rip your head off."

Dean smirked. "Adam versus Dad. Who would win?"

"Adam," Sam said immediately.

Castiel nodded his agreement. "Adam."

"Definitely Uncle Adam," Jack chimed in.

John blinked, looking a little put-out, at least until Mary scooted over and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a side-hug. But Sam couldn't keep himself from laughing when his mother lifted her head and mouthed 'Adam' over her husband's head while he was distracted.