AN: Just as a warning, there is drug use in this chapter, and all previous warnings still do apply as well. That said, I really don't know much about drugs, but I tried to do as much research as possible to make this as close to accurate as I possibly could. This chapter is the start of me leading into the canon episode Born Again Identity, so some of what occurs here is taken directly from that episode, but I did make a few changes so as not to make you guys feel like you waited several weeks just to read something you've all already seen before. Oh, and I've been reading the novel Beloved by Toni Morrison, which doesn't make a lick of sense, but her style might have rubbed off on me a bit here, so I apologise if this gets confusing at any point. With all that out of the way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Sam was running. Although, "stumbling with great velocity" was probably a more accurate way of putting it. He passionately envied his brother who had passed out about four beers ago. Once Dean had fallen asleep, that had left Sam alone with his hallucination. He had continued to drink in hopes of blacking out, but all the countless beers had done for him was further blur the lines of reality. He'd finally had enough of Lucifer's incessant taunts, so Sam had done the only thing he could think of. He ran.

Rather than Lucifer's ramblings, he heard the rush of blood in his ears. He panted heavily, feeling the chill air huffing in and out of his mouth, as opposed to choking on blood or- other things. His muscles ached from the exhaustion at this intense excursion being forced on them, and not due to Lucifer trying to break the record of how quickly he could shatter every one of Sam's limbs.

But Sam knew he couldn't run forever.

By the time he finally ran out of energy, he had found himself in an alley, so exhausted that the obvious drug deal unfolding in front of him didn't even faze him. The dealer, however, seemed pretty pissed as his client quickly handed him a wad of cash, and then booked out of there.

"Dude, get the hell away from me."

That was when Sam's legs decided to give out, and he slid down against the brick wall. His head lolled on his shoulders, barely having the energy to keep it up at all.

"Hey!" The guy snapped in front of Sam's face, but he was too far gone to flinch. "Are you deaf? I said leave me alone!"

"It-it's okay." Sam slurred. He could hardly control his words, the alcohol having numbed his tongue long ago. "Nobody's after me."

"Then what the hell you doing running up in here like that?"

The question lifelessly floated around in Sam's head, and Sam couldn't make sense of how to answer. All he wanted was to sleep, not be interrogated by some tweaker.

"Jus'- leave me alone." Sam shook his head, now letting it fall into his hands. He didn't hear footsteps fade away, which meant that the guy was still there.

"What did you take anyway?" He asked.

"Nothing." Sam grumbled.

Drug dealer scoffed. "Shut up."

"Was there ever a point in your life where you weren't perpetually lying through your teeth?"

Sam further curled in on himself, because it hadn't been the guy that had asked him that. It had been Lucifer. Sam started anxiously rubbing his hands, practically wringing his wrists until he thought he felt the flesh beginning to peel away.

"Look at that!" Lucifer said with excitement. "You're halfway there to hurting yourself again! Harder, Sam. Use your nails to really get under the flesh, and then drag your hands down. You'll lose a lot more skin that way. It's definitely my preferred method. You remember, don't you?"

Sam's groan was more like a scream that didn't have the capability of unleashing its full power.

"I just need some rest!" Sam cried out in desperation, again holding his head in his hands, eyelids heavier than the Impala.

"Hey." The dealer said with mild intrigue in his voice. "If you want to knock out, I can knock you out."

Sam hated how he momentarily hesitated. "N-no. I don't need that."

"It's nothing crazy, it's totally legal stuff. Little more intense of a dose, but it's no big deal. Promise your teeth aren't gonna start falling out afterwards or anything."

"Not that you'd mind." Lucifer commented. "I've made you lose your teeth in just about every way possible, so it wouldn't be anything new, huh, bunk-buddy?"

"Here." The guy sifted through his pockets, and then pulled out a small cup, and poured a thick liquid into it, and then held it out to Sam.

Before his shaky hands could reach it, Sam stopped.

"How much is this gonna cost?" Sam undoubtedly knew the dangers of making deals without knowing the true price.

The guy gave a somewhat wry smile. "You seem like you're going through a lot, and I'm feeling generous, so tell you what. Your first one's free."

Sam felt his nostrils flare in irritation. He saw right through the clichéd dealer line. They almost always offered the first hit at no cost, hoping that it would lure their victims into getting their high, and then chasing it for the rest of their lives. Dealers saw it as an investment. And Sam felt true disappointment in himself for a split second in knowing that he was about to fall prey to this warped system.

But his desperation was stronger than his guilt. So before he could even begin to talk himself out of it, Sam tipped the cup back and drank. The thick, syrupy liquid cascaded down his throat with the speed and consistency of a slug. It took all he had not the gag at the texture and the taste. Its effects were quick though. He felt his head fuzzing and eyes blurring rapidly. The rest of his body soon followed suit, starting with the numbing of his fingers and toes. The lack of feeling started spreading to the rest of him, and he didn't even notice that he had almost fallen over until he felt the dealer's hands on him.

"-sy, -dy." The man's voice was distorted, making Sam feel like he was underwater. Not drowning though, not gasping and fighting for air, simply floating. "-'s get-… car."

The scenery around Sam danced in waves as he drifted somewhere new. He'd been moved into a sitting position, he felt so at ease. The garbled voice returned, now next to him. A face smiled at him, raising a cup, Sam knew that cup, he liked that cup, and then the smiling man took the cup to his own mouth, and drank its contents as well.

As more time passed, Sam felt himself slipping further and further away. The world around him blurred, and he found his head tipping forward until his chin rested on his chest. And best of all, his eyes started slipping shut.

But just before he could drift away entirely, Sam heard a crash that snapped him out of his blissed daze, along with a rain of shattered glass sprinkling down onto his torso and lap. He jerked his head up, mouth quaking in horror at the sight of an approximately two-foot pole jutting through the windshield, merely inches away from impaling him. He leapt out of the car to investigate, but by the time he'd gotten out, the pole was gone. Then who-

"Good morning, good morning! We talked the whole night through! Good morning, good morning to you!" Came Lucifer's voice before the question even fully crossed Sam's abused mind.

Sam threw his hands up to his ears as utter helplessness flooded him once more. With still numb legs, he started running again, and his plugged ears did nothing to impede Lucifer from calling after him.

"I thought you liked my singing!"

"Just keep running." Sam told himself.

"I told you, Sam, no matter what you did, I'd always be there! Dreams, drugs, or death itself won't be able to save you! You're mine. Always and fore-"

The last of Lucifer's taunt was unheard due to it being overpowered by a piercing shriek, followed by a harsh thud. It wasn't until Sam looked up at the sky and felt his bones throbbing in agony that he pieced together that the screech had been brakes, and that the thud had been his body colliding with the vehicle. He'd been hit by a car. But the worst thing about it wasn't the obviously bruised or potentially broken ribs, or the pounding of his possibly concussed head. No. It was that he. Was still. Awake.

Jumbled voices swam around in his head, but they were nothing more than sounds. The stressed and unstressed and clearly panicked syllables didn't form words inside Sam's brain, but the tiny shred of it that was once known as logic told him that the voices were likely the drivers of the car that had hit him and were frantically calling 911.

Everything was a haze from that moment on. A high and undeniably more frightened voice sobbed to seemingly no one, and then the other voice, lower and significantly more calm, spoke to Sam, but he still found himself unable to make sense of the words. Hands waved in front of his face, of course he could only assume that the pinkish fast moving blur in front of him was in fact a hand, but Sam couldn't bring himself to respond to the voices, or the hand, or any of the other attempts to communicate with him with anything other than blinks. Long, slow, pleading blinks. Pleading for what, he wasn't exactly sure…

There was, however, an upside to this immobilising state that Sam found himself currently trapped in. It was that his spinning head didn't have the energy to conjure up his hallucination of Lucifer to mock him right now. Had he possessed the capability to, Sam would've laughed at the fact that he was actually grateful for having just been hit by a car.

More time passed, and then Sam saw bright lights flashing, accompanied by an irritating wailing sound. His mind still had enough sense to connect the two and configure that it was an ambulance. He felt himself being lifted soon after, and he groaned as he felt his body protest at the movement by flaring up in pain.

Voices garbled above him yet again, in seemingly gentle but still urgent tones. One stood out though, and started becoming clearer.

"…my."

Clearer.

"S…"

Clearer.

"Sammy."

Too clear. Too loud. Too familiar. Oh, God.

"There's my little bitch. I was afraid I'd almost lost you back there."

Unable to do anything else, Sam released a pitiful whine of fear. He couldn't this right now. He couldn't.

"Gotta say, I like you best when you put up a little bit of a fight, but I can still have my fun this way too."

Terror and utter helplessness pushed Sam out of his haze long enough to finally croak out one word. The word.

"D-Dean…"

AN: Cruel note to end on, I know. But unlike the rest of the story, I not only have the next chapter started, but it's actually completely finished in my handwritten copy. So not only does that mean that you won't have to wait for a long time, but as usual, it means you get your-

Sneak Peek: "'So, what's the plan to get me out?'

When Dean dropped eye contact with Sam, he knew something was wrong. But no gut feeling of worry could ever have prepared Sam for Dean's next words.

'There isn't one.'"

Next chapter, and I really mean it this time, will be the last. I know that this chapter definitely got confusing and jumbled, so if anything was too weird or just unclear please don't hesitate to ask me, I know this one was undeniably a little out there. If there's anything else you would like to say, please let me know in a review, or private message, and I will happily get back to you. Thank you for your patience with me again, and I really will see y'all soon.