Disclaimer: Supernatural, the Winchesters, and any other characters and/or places which may appear do not belong to me.

Whumptober 2020

Day #6; Time: 1:30am (yes I know it's technically the 7th now shut up lmao)

Prompt(s): "No more"; "Stop, please."

Author's Note: Yesterday's story was really painful so I thought I'd make this one a little fluffier, towards the end at least. It's not very fun at the beginning lol. Hope you like. Review if you want to when you're finished :) I appreciate them more than you can know. Enjoy!

Set early season 12, after 12x03 The Foundry but before 12x07 Rock Never Dies.

Today's Whumpee: Sam Winchester

Sam screamed. He screamed and screamed, and it rang in his ears. The only thing cutting through the burning hot pain was the laughing. His laughing. Lucifer's laughing. He was in the Cage. Again. It felt like he'd never leave. Except when Lucifer would make it seem like he did. When Lucifer would put Sam to sleep, put him in a dream, make him believe he was okay, that he was safe. Make him believe that he was with Dean.

He'd do it again and again. And Sam fell for it. Every damn time. He fell for it. Because Lucifer was in his head. He knew how to make it real, how to make it so real that Sam wouldn't doubt it.

Everything was a blur. Except the pain. Through the blur of memories and the screaming, the pain remained. Through the haze of images of the Cage, images of Lucifer's face, his true face, the pain. Through the tormenting slideshows of Dean's face, of the Impala, of his life, the pain was there.

Sam tried to focus on where he was right now. He tried to latch onto anything, anything that he could be certain was real. He closed his eyes, he covered his ears, trying to block out his senses, trying to close in around himself, protect himself in any way that he could. But it didn't work. Just as he was starting to feel the floor of the Cage again, feel the cold bars made of metal that burned hot, burned hotter than hell, he felt something else. One of the things he'd come to recognize.

The breathing, the way he could feel his hair ruffle slightly, the way goosebumps sprouted all over his skin, the way his entire body suddenly felt cold. Colder than anything. Colder than ice, colder than frostbite (a feeling Sam knew well), colder than when him and Dean had been trapped in a blizzard a few years before, the Impala broken down and only a thin blanket to keep them warm.

That was one of the few nights Dean had thrown the "no chick flick" rule out the window and had cuddled together in the backseat. It had been during the year after Sam had died, and Dean had made his deal. Meaning that Sam hadn't been very reluctant at all to be close with his brother, not if he would lose him in just a few meager months.

Sam tried to latch onto those memories in the cage, tried to keep himself sane, but it was just so fucking hard, what with Lucifer breathing down his neck every two seconds, or at least that's what it felt like.

Michael had toned down slightly in the past couple decades. Sam had been grateful for that at first, but now he wasn't, because Michael being less active in Sam's torture only seemed to piss Lucifer off even more.

The cold hand that suddenly clenched around the back of his neck dragged Sam out any thoughts.

"No, no more, please…" Sam pleaded. "Please… stop," he whispered. Tears were in his eyes, his whole body was shaking. "Stop… p-please."

Lucifer snarled. "Oh, Sammy… begging isn't gonna get you anywhere with me, you know that, don't you?"

Sam wrenched out of Lucifer's grasp, only for Lucifer to move faster than light, slamming Sam into a corner of the cage, the icy metallic feeling from the bars seeping into his very bones.

"Sam," Lucifer muttered. "Sammy, Sammy, Sam…"

"Stop… please," Sam whispered again.

"Sam… Sam! SAM!"

Sam could hear something different. A deeper voice, a familiar voice, a loving voice. Sam tried to fight towards it. It was calling him.

And then Sam was falling. Falling, falling, falling ever faster. Until he was struggling for breath and staring at a dark ceiling. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving with choked sobs.

"Sammy, hey, hey, it's okay."

Dean. Dean was there. Sitting beside him. But no… what if? What if it was all just another trick? What if… what if this was Lucifer again? What if, what if, what if….

"N-No, De', I — I need to kn-know," Sam sputtered, pulling away from his brother.

In the dim light, Sam could see the understanding in Dean's eyes. His brother hesitantly reached over and took left hand in his own and pressed his thumb into the middle of his palm. Sam winced.

"The year is 2017, your name is Sam William Winchester, and you are thirty-four years old. You and me live in the Bunker that our grandfather showed us a few years ago, sometimes Cas is here too. We've fought Leviathins, the friggin' Scribe of God, you helped me get the Mark of fuckin Cain off my arm, and we fought the Darkness. Now could Lucifer make all that up? Oh, I also showed you the best way to make burgers and we've kind of, sort of, made friends with the King of Hell."

Sam laughed, his throat thick with emotion.

He sat up, not caring if Dean would make fun of him for this later, and wrapped his arms around his brother, letting his head hang against Dean's chest. Not a half-second later, Sam felt Dean's arms wrap around him in turn, his head resting on his little brother's. They sat like that for a few minutes, Sam's shaky sobs slowly quieting as he calmed down. It was always a fight to struggle through the memories of the Cage after a nightmare like that, but just having Dean there, having Dean remind him of the things that had happened to them, good and bad, helped.

When they withdrew from the hug, Dean looked at him seriously. "You've been having a lot of these types of dreams lately, it seems," he said. "I mean, I know about the stuff British Biscuit did to you, but you said it didn't have to do with… you know… that."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, yeah, no, it's not cause of her."

"Then what is it?"

Sam sighed, moving back to lean against the headboard, running his hands through his hair. "Lucifer."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean said.

"No, Dean… Lucifer. When he was here. When him and Chuck were here… when Lucifer was possessing Cas."

Dean blinked. Then it all seemed to wash over him in a wave of horror and shame.

"Son of a bitch!" his brother yelled, standing up from the bed with fury. "Why hadn't you told me?" Dean said, outraged. "I should've realized, dammit."

"No, D—"

"Don't say it's okay," Dean interrupted. "Do NOT say that, because it isn't, okay? It just isn't. I should've realized what him being here in the Bunker, in our home, would do to you? Let alone him being in your fucking room." Dean ran his hands through his hair.

"Okay, that's it," he said. "Stand up."

"What? Why?" Sam said. He stood up, watching curiously as Dean took all the sheets and blankets off the bed and rolled them into a bundle. "I am going to bleach these right now, and you are going to sleep in my room tonight."

"What? No, Dean, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, shaking his head. "Look… I'll never know what exactly happened to you while you were… there, but I can damn well try to help you through it as well as I can, so if that means that you take my bed tonight, then you do it, okay? You let me help you through this, like how you wanted to help me through my time in the Pit."

Sam pressed his mouth together in a thin line. "Deal," he muttered.

Dean nodded, before leaving the room with the sheets and blankets in tow. When he came back a few minutes later, Sam had fallen back onto the mattress. "I told you to go to my room," Dean said.

Sam looked up. "Oh, right… sorry," he mumbled. He stood up and mutely walked down the hall to Dean's room, his brother following closely as if to make sure he wasn't going to fall over.

When they reached Dean's room, Sam looked doubtfully at Dean again, opening his mouth one more time to say that Dean didn't need to give up his bed for him, but Dean just gave him a look that cut him off.

Sam rolled his eyes but inwardly he felt his heart warm at brother's understanding and generosity.

Things like that never surprised him about Dean, but what did surprise him was when Dean nudged Sam with his foot.

Sam looked up, puzzled.

"Budge over," Dean said.

"What?" Sam laughed.

"Yeah, man, you think you're gonna kick me out of my own bed?" Dean said with a smile. "C'mon, Sasquatch, I'm tired and want to go to sleep." He'd replaced his teasing big brother smile with a fake annoyed look that Sam could see right through.

He rolled his eyes at his brother, but he moved over.

"People'll really start thinking we're gay if they knew we did this," Sam muttered.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot," Dean replied with a laugh. "You're my brother, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," Sam replied, already sighing into the pillow with fatigue.

"Well," Dean said, "I know you were better than anyone, little bro. And I happen to know that a) you sleep better when I'm nearby — I'd like to think it's cause I'm so awesome —"

"You're such a idiot." Sam interrupted, throwing his brother's words back at him, but there was no heat behind them.

"— and b) even if you wanted to hang out with me, you'd never ask for it, because my habit of not asking for help rubbed off on you."

Sam hummed; he'd thought that was the end of it, and he was falling into a comfortable silence with his brother until Dean spoke again, softer this time. It was obvious that sleep was pulling them both down.

"I don't want you to ever hesitate to ask me for help, Sammy," Dean said. "About anything. If it's a nightmare or a case or whatever, you're still my little brother. It's my job to take care of you. And I wasn't able to do that in — in Cold Oak, or when you were down there, or any of the other times, and I just… I just want to try and make up for that."

Sam breathed deeply. "Dean, you have nothing to make up for me. You've always taken care of me, ever since Mom died. You were always the one taking care of me and you still have, our whole lives. Don't blame yourself for that anymore, please. We're okay now."

Sam felt Dean shift. "Goodnight, Sammy."

"Night, Dee."

AN II: Not me totally being inspired by all the promo trailers and also the fact that the series finale is only 44 days away. This might be my favorite of this collection so far. I really hope ya'll like. Love ya.