Sam was panicking, pushing, shoving, doing everything he could to move. But he could feel his heart beating at a calm, steady pace; mocking him. He'd been made to face a shattered mirror, where he could see his own steady expression; provoking him. His gaze never once shifted or belied the battle underneath; discarding him. Perhaps there really was no battle. He may just be slamming against a stone wall that would never even know the difference.

"Sam." It was his own mouth moving, his own vocal cords ringing. "Come on. I can feel you… scratching away in there." But he was doing more than simply scratching. Everything just felt so… distant, so unattainable. If he couldn't reach his own hands, how on Earth could he ever take hold of the rings, or throw them, or propel his legs through the portal? He couldn't feel Lucifer's presence in his mind. He could only see the reflective glee in the mirror's portrayal. "Look, I'll take the gag off, okay? You got me all wrong, kiddo. I'm not the bad guy here."

I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out! His shout echoed deep into the void which had overcome his mind—an empty, hollow corner of his thoughts that he no longer knew how to navigate. Do you understand me?

"Such anger… young Skywalker." Whether he felt a relief at still being heard by someone or a fury at being patronized in such a way, Sam only hesitated a moment in his pursuit of getting a grasp on anything that felt real. "Who are you really angry with? Me? Or that face in the mirror?"

He couldn't imagine what it had been like for Dean, to look at such a familiar face and realize it wasn't so friendly anymore. He'd screamed, tried to show his brother any possible sign that he was STILL there and could STILL fight, but nothing, NOTHING ever happened. I'm sure this is all a big joke to you, huh?

"Not at all. I've been waiting for you… for a long, long time. Come on, Sam. You have to admit—you can feel it, right?"

What? He felt like he should have been able to know what this intruder was thinking within his own mind, but everything felt just as unfamiliar and warped as the first time he'd been possessed.

"The exhilaration. And you know why that is?" No. There wasn't any sort of thrill to this. "Because we're two halves made whole. M.F.E.O. Literally."

Eyes that he couldn't control forced his gaze to stay directed towards the mirror. In the shallow lighting, the Devil took his muscles and tall stature in stride, instead of stooping slightly like Sam used to do to appear less… frightening. Against dim shadows, Lucifer radiated confidence. In HIS body. This feels pretty damn far from good.

"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam. You can lie to me. I see it all—how odd you always felt, how… out of place in that… family of yours. And why shouldn't you have? They were foster care—at best. I'm your real family."

He wanted to tell the monstrous entity that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Lucifer could flick through his memories and spy into his personal affairs. It wasn't fair that HE had to be the one Lucifer chose, he had to be the younger, weaker brother, he always had to be the freak, the tainted one that never had his father's trust and always screwed things up. Nothing was fair. But despite being unable to change most things, he COULD reject Lucifer's lies. He'd fight the Devil with everything he still had. No, that's not true.

"It is. And I know you know it. All those times you ran away, you weren't running from them. You were running towards me." Sam tried to struggle as if bound and gagged even as Lucifer spoke. The Archangel never flinched, not once. If he could have, he would've breathed back angry tears, but there were no external signs of his distress in the first place. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know. I let Dean live, didn't I? I want him to live. I'll bring your folks back too. I want you to be happy, Sam."

I don't want anything from you. He just wanted the Devil to leave everyone alone.

"Really? Not even a little payback?"

What's that supposed to mean?

"Look closely." Five demons stood at silent attention around them. Maybe Lucifer talking to him in such a way had seemed weird, though he had no doubt these demons were used to the constant, far away cries of their victims, normal people forced to be prisoners in their own bodies. He wished the Devil would approach him within his mind. Maybe then, he would have been able to get a grasp on the entity inside him and finally take control again. But Lucifer continued their chat out loud. "None of these little devils look familiar to you?"

Past the broken mirror's reflection, Sam could make out five people, simply standing there without care or remorse. That's Mr. Bensman… one of my grade-school teachers.

He hadn't realized he'd thought out loud enough for Lucifer to hear. "And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing," the Devil helpfully supplied. "And Rachel… your prom date." Of course. How could he forget any of them? If asked, he would have been able to recall most details of them without reminders or prompts. He used to be so grateful for the impacts they'd had on him. "Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang—watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them." Of course he did. "Me too." That's right—he'd created an army of demons despite how he loathed them more than humanity. A hypocritical, lying, manipulative bastard. The Devil tricked and corrupted enough beings to create his own self-sustaining and ever-growing army that'd follow him without question. Demons were so incredibly pathetic… they sold their souls for meaningless nonsense and eventually took to harming innocents for the petty satisfaction. There was a reason they rarely opposed any creatures with real knowledge and power. Demons were so… despicable. They'd swayed a child for years to their side. They were awful. He almost hated each and every one of them more than the Devil himself. "So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?"

He knew it was a plan and a trick, but he couldn't stop Lucifer while he felt up Rachel's skirt and reached her neck, twisting, and diving into the girl's chest to smite the demon's soul. There was nothing to be done as the demons screamed and wailed, pleading for mercy over the fact that they could be useful, and having their very existence torn to shreds.

It felt good.

Sam told himself he couldn't possibly stop a being as powerful as the Devil himself, but now, he wasn't sure if he wanted to anymore.

The demons had thought he was evil, could so easily become evil. They'd corrupted him. They were easy to punch, to yank around, to kill.

Dean had thought he was evil, could so easily become evil. Dean had let him become corrupted. Sam couldn't think of anyone he wanted to hurt less; his brother was the one factor that had held him at bay this whole time. And yet, he couldn't think of any reason to hold back.

He hadn't held back for the demons.