"No," Dean snapped. "You're not still in Hell, for fuck's sake."

Warring emotions in her chest were making Piper's palms clammy. It was fear for Sam, who despite everything was still one of her best friends, and fear of Lucifer's lingering influence. It was anger that Lucifer would still have such a firm hold on her brother-in-law, still have the power to make their lives even harder than they usually were. A heavy dose of desperation was mixed in, too. So soon after everything with Castiel (and oh, dear God did it hurt to think about Cass), she couldn't let anything happen to Sam. She couldn't.

While she was grappling with the sick feeling in her belly, Dean was snapping his fingers.

"I got it! Why would the devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the cage?"

Sam shrugged. "'Cause, as he puts it, 'you can't torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.'" His eyes darted around the room. Piper wondered if Lucifer was there with them, talking to Sam even as they were.

Dean scowled. "Okay, fine. But this Malibu dream mansion that he makes for you to take away is this… Post-apocalyptic mess?"

Sam's eyes were glued to an area just next to Piper. He was frowning, like he was hearing something he didn't want to hear, and Piper realized she was right.

"Are you… Is he here right now, Sam?" she asked, horrified.

He nodded.

"You know that he's not real, right?" Dean insisted.

"He says the same thing about you guys."


Piper was kneading dough for pie crust. Well, she was using the pie crust as a cover so she could keep an eye on Sam in the living room. He was silently sitting, methodically taking apart and reassembling his gun. It probably wasn't the best pastime he could have been indulging in, but there were worse things.

Bobby seemed to agree. "Well," he said quietly to Dean, who was looking over his shoulder at the laptop they'd set up at the kitchen table and fiddling with a cell phone at the same time, "at least he's not curled up under the sink."

Dean snorted softly. "Yeah, no, he's just sitting there, field-stripping his weapon while not saying a word."

Piper turned to her husband to add something, but frowned when she realized that the phone in his hands was Sam's. "What are you doing?"

"Turning on his GPS, in case he decides to fly the cuckoo's nest."

While she had to admit that it was a good idea, the lack of trust made Piper itch. She hated the thought that Sam would just… Bail on them. Even if he did think Lucifer was around, bent on tormenting him.

"And you?" Bobby was asking turning a little and looking up at Dean. "How are you doing?"

Pain was written in the lines on Dean's face. "Seriously, it ain't like he's hexed, you know? I mean, what if it's the kind of crazy you can't fix?"

Bobby sighed. "Look, I'm worried, too, but humor me for a second. How are you?"

Dean stared at him incredulously. "Who cares? Don't you think our mailbox is a little full right now?"

Bobby opened his mouth to retort, probably to say something that wouldn't actually help, but Piper decided to head the fight off before it got underway.

"Dean?" she said sweetly. "Baby, would you mind grabbing the apple slices from the freezer?" She held up her flour-covered hands and waggled her fingers. "I'll just end up making a mess."

He blinked, then nodded and put Sam's phone back on the table. As he passed her, he stopped to kiss her temple and nuzzle the skin behind her ear. "Thanks," he whispered, voice rough with gratitude.

"Love you," she murmured, tilting her head up for a kiss, which he granted before he fled the kitchen.

As soon as they were alone, Bobby was scowling. "Idjit," he spit.

"You had to know that wouldn't go well."

"Shaddup."

Piper smiled a little. "It was sweet, don't get me wrong, but-"

"Oh, can it, Pi," Bobby snapped, although there was no heat in his voice. She laughed out loud, and he smiled for a beat before sobering. "He's… Okay, right?"

Piper stared down at the dough she was rolling out now. "He's… Well, he will be, at any rate."


Piper was rolling her eyes and smiling at Dean, who was making a face at her as they brought the groceries in from the Impala. He was complaining about the reusable canvas bags they were using (although she knew damn well he had no opinion one way or another), calling her a hippie in a tone that suggested it was the highest of insults.

Once she'd set her bags down on the counter and turned, she frowned when she realized that both Bobby and Sam were sitting at the kitchen table, looking serious. The last couple of days, while Sam recuperated and they tried to gather intel, had been spent arguing about whether or not they were fit enough, as a unit, to go on a hunt. Sam thought Dean and Piper should go on every hunt they caught wind of, Piper thought they should only go if it looked like leviathans and send someone else on any regular hunts, and Dean thought they should stay where they were until they figured out how to deal with Sam's hallucinations.

Bobby usually sat on the sidelines and called all of them idjits.

It wasn't that Piper wanted to go on a hunt before Sam was better, it was just that Dean was driving all of them crazy. He was clearly jonesing to get back on the road, to take the fight to the monsters, but he refused to leave Sam behind. Instead, he'd detailed and washed the Impala twice, done some work around the salvage yard for Bobby, cooked dinner every night for the last few days, and had gotten handsy with Piper more times than she could count (not that she was complaining about the last one, but a girl could get sore).

Bracing herself for an argument, she put on a bright smile. "What's up, guys?"

"Uh, looks like we have some news, for a change," Sam said, gesturing to the laptop on the table in front of him. "Stockville, north Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in their locker room."

"Cop talk on the wire's kind of garbled," Bobby added, "saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack. They're saying that whatever attacked them's about the size of a linebacker."

"Well," Piper said cautiously, "that… Definitely sounds like something." Behind her, Dean just grunted.

Sam's voice was exasperated. "It's a lead, Dean."

To her great surprise, Dean came to stand next to her, and his face somewhere between thoughtful and stubborn. "It could be," he acquiesced.

"It warrants lookin' at, anyway," Bobby said.

Dean looked at Sam. "But if you think you're going out on a hunt…"

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "No, I know I'm not. But you are. Look, Bobby's running the hub, I'm fifty-one-fiftied, so that leaves you and Piper to follow this thing up."

Dean looked pained. "I dunno, Sam. You're in the middle of a psychotic break."

"It's only a couple of hours to drive," Piper said softly. "And it sounds like it could be a leviathan thing. We can't leave that up to other hunters."

"And what am I, chopped brains on toast?" Bobby groused. "I can eyeball the kid." He waved his hands. "Go. Work off some of these nerves on something more useful than cleaning a clean car and making it goddamn hard to sleep at night."

Piper blushed furiously, Sam choked on a laugh, and Dean agreed grudgingly that they'd go.


The next day, as they drove away from a crime scene that had pretty clearly said "leviathans" to Piper, she held Dean's phone with Sam on speaker.

"Well," Dean was telling his brother as he drove, "we are positive for ick. Same kind of stuff that came out of Cass, and, uh, two of the swim kids were missing. They stole one of their parents' cars."

"So you think these, um, these leviathan things just jump into people? Like Eve did?"

Sam sounded distracted as hell. Piper frowned at the phone, then glanced at Dean. He met her eyes, clearly worried, but kept his voice even when he answered. "I don't know, it makes sense though, right?"

"State trooper's got surveillance cam on the kids, about six hours old," Piper reported. "Just them gassing up just south of the Dakota line, so we're headed back your way. We can track them just as easy from Bobby's."

Sam hummed. "Yeah, sounds good." His voice was tight with strain.

"Hey, how are you?" Dean asked sharply.

"You know, uh. Okay."

Dean was frowning, and Piper understood completely. There was no way that Sam was just "fine." Chances were, in fact, that he was staring down Lucifer in his own head right now. It made her stomach ache with sympathy.

"Hang in there, Sam," Piper said softly.

"Yeah," he replied, still distracted, and the line went dead.

"Well, that went well," she said dryly.

Dean snorted. "As well as it could've, anyway."

She put the phone in her jacket pocket and slid a hand over to rest on the seat in between them, palm up. He took the bait and slid his hand into hers, twining their fingers together and holding on tight.

"How are you?" she asked softly, examining his handsome face carefully. "Really, this time, not just the patented Winchester 'I'm Fine' bit."

He shrugged. "What do you want me to say, kitten? Sam's lost his mind, Cass is gone, there are leviathans killing high schoolers." He shot a bitter, tight smile at her. "You're the only good thing, baby. You're always the only good thing."

She frowned. "Dean, I-"

"I know," he cut in. "I know it's not healthy, but for now, it's all I've got. Can I just… Have this? For now? Just for now, kitten? Please?"

Damn him, she thought wearily. Damn Winchester puppy dog eyes.

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. "Okay," she whispered. "Just for now. As soon as Sam is okay, we talk about this. Deal?"

He gave her the side-eye, but he was smirking. "All right. You've got yourself a deal."

"I love you," she whispered again, another kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"Love you, too, kitten."


It was dark by the time they pulled back up to Bobby's. Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up when he registered the lack of Bobby's old truck, as well as one of the beaters he'd fixed up for the yard in the last few days.

"Dean?" Piper asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yeah, I see it."

He parked Baby and pulled his gun out of his holster. He couldn't have said why, but he felt better with it in his hand. He saw Piper do the same from the corner of his eye as they approached the house. Approval and affection burst in his chest, but he put it aside when they got into the house.

He scanned the kitchen quickly, gun raised. Piper moved to the living room, clearing it the same way Dean did. Their eyes met, and by silent agreement, they split up. Dean hated to do it that way, but with until Bobby or Sam showed themselves, he'd have to assume that it was just he and Piper.

As she went up the stairs, her soft voice called out. "Sam? Bobby?"

Dean hated watching her go up by herself, but he managed to wrench himself from the sight of her and cleared the rest of the house, calling for Bobby and Sam as he did so.

It only took a few minutes, he knew, but it felt like a long time before he met Piper again at the bottom of the stairs. She was holstering her gun, but her pretty face was drawn in distress. "They're not here," she said, biting her lip.

He stuck his gun in the back of his pants and tugged her towards him. Now that they knew the house was safe, she fell into his arms, pressing her face into his chest. "I know," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and holding her tight. "We'll find them. I turned the GPS on Sam's phone on, remember? So he'll be easy to find. Then we just gotta track down Bobby."

She sighed and nodded. "Okay. Sam first, then Bobby?"

"You got it, kitten."


Dean barely managed to get the Impala in park before he was getting out and running toward the warehouse they'd tracked Sam to. He heard Piper come in right behind him as he flung the door open and stormed in.

Standing in the middle of the place, looking like he was talking to someone next to him, was Sam. He looked confused and scared. Something deep inside Dean, a take care of Sammy instinct he'd had since he was four and had never tried very hard to fight, had him approaching quickly.

"Sam!" His brother turned toward him. "What are you doing?"

To his absolute shock, Sam raised his gun in trembling hands and pointed it towards him. Dean's heart dropped, but he immediately swept one of his arms out to keep Piper behind him. "Woah, woah!" he snapped.

"I was with you, Dean!" Sam cried.

"Okay, okay, well, here I am, Sammy," Dean soothed, trying to keep his voice even.

"No, no, I don't… I…" Sam turned to look to his left, then back at Dean. "I can't know that for sure. You understand me?"

"Lucifer," Piper breathed. "He's still seeing Lucifer."

"Okay, then we're gonna have to start small." Dean's mind was racing.

Without warning, Sam turned and shot to his left. Dean felt his wife's hands fist in the back of his jacket, but she made no noise whatsoever.

"Sam!" he snapped. "This discussion does not require a weapons discharge!" Sam's chest was heaving and he was staring warily, but made no move to point the gun or move away when Dean started towards him slowly. Piper stayed with him, still holding onto his jacket. He was grateful for her presence.

"Look at me," Dean said, gentling his voice. "Come on. You don't know what's real?" He swallowed hard. "Look, man, I've been to Hell. Okay? I know a thing or two about torture. Enough to know that it feels different. Than the pain of this…" He waved his arm around. "This regular, stupid, crappy this."

Hell, and the memories thereof (and so he had to assume hallucinations would be the same) had a slightly hazy, sickening quality to it. The kind of thing that would make you sick if you looked at it for too long. Real memories, and real life, was somehow grittier and cleaner at the same time. The difference between stepping in mud and getting shoved to the ground. Maybe you ended up covered in shit either way, but the method made the difference. It was subtle, but it was there.

Nightmares from Hell were harder to wake up from.

Sam was shaking his head. "No, no. How can you know that for sure?"

Dean had an idea. It was a shitty idea, but an idea nonetheless, and all he had to boot. "Give me your hand." Sam lifted his right hand, and Dean rolled his eyes. "No, the gimp hand! Let me see it!"

Sam's eyes flitted over to his left again and he winced, but he held out his left hand dutifully. Dean took it and shook it lightly, drawing Sam's attention down to it.

"This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell, now. I was with you when you cut it! Piper sewed it up. Look!" He pressed a thumb to where the cut rested under the gauze. Sam winced a little. Dean saw as Piper calmly reached out and took hold of the barrel of the gun Sam was still holding in his right hand.

"See, Sammy? Pipes is right here. You know her. You know Piper. You guys used to do all sorts of annoying shit together. Right? This is different. Than the crap that's tearing at your walnut? I'm different. Right?"

Sam took both hands back, but let go of the gun. Piper took it, flicked the safety on, and stuck it in the pocket of her canvas jacket. Her hazel eyes were glued to Sam, concerned and pained. It made Dean's heart ache even more to see her so upset.

"Yeah," Sam said finally, his eyes landing on Piper. His face softened, just a little, but enough. "I think so."

Dean watched as Sam's eyes darted to his left again, and he winced at whatever it was that he heard there. "Sam?"

He watched as Sam took the thumb of his right hand and pressed down hard on the cut on his left palm. He blinked, then stared to the left as he did so.

"Sam," Piper said gently, moving to stand where he was looking, presumably where he was hallucinating Lucifer. "Sam, Dean's real, okay, and so am I. We're your flesh-and-blood siblings, okay?" She smiled a little. "We're the only ones who can really kick your giant ass in real time." She stepped forward and slowly, so slowly, cupped Sam's face in her hand. "You got out, Sammy. You got away."

Sam tilted his head into her hand, but his eyes were still flickering to a spot just behind her.

"Believe in that, Sam. Believe us. You've got to believe us. You have to make that stone number one and build on it, okay? Do you understand?"

Sam nodded weakly, and it was as if his strings had been cut. He sagged, the only part of him seemingly still holding up on its own where Piper was holding him.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Before any of them could say much else, Sam's phone was ringing in his pocket. He straightened up, fished it out, and answered. "Bobby, hey… A leviathan, do you think? Here?... Yeah, sure."

He hung up and looked around at them. "Bobby's got a live one."

Dean nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Piper smiled grimly. "First Sam, then Bobby."

Dean held her hand as they went back to the Impala.