Thanks to Gredelina1 for working her beta magic.

Chapter Ten

"We need to talk."

Dean looked down. Those words have never been followed by a conversation he had enjoyed, and looking at Sam now, taking in the deep furrows on his forehead and the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap, he knew this one was going to be no different.

And he didn't want to hear it. Things were good. Sam was out of Hell. Castiel was healing him up. No one was dying from stolen grace or becoming a demon. Amara was distracted taking out the angels—Castiel excepted—and Crowley wasn't currently being a pain in the ass. This was the flipside. After months, years, of nightmares, things were supposed to be better for them, even if only for a little while. But no. Winchester luck ran in one direction, and fate loved to bitch-slap them—bitter shrew that she was.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Castiel asked. "Is it your wounds?"

Sam didn't answer. Dean could feel his eyes on him, waiting patiently for him to man up and listen to the latest nightmare, to face this new catastrophe, whatever it was. And Dean would have to, because that was what he did.

He dragged his eyes up and looked at Sam and wishing he hadn't. Sam looked afraid. It wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, but it was to Dean—he knew his brother better than anyone. It was in the tightness around the eyes and the thin pressed line of his mouth. When Dean looked at him, he blinked and his eyes became glassy. Damn, he was really scared.

"What's going on, Sam?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral even though it wanted to quaver. Sam needed the strength. If Dean was freaking out, too, he wouldn't be able to hold it together.

Sam cleared his throat and opened his mouth a couple times only to snap it shut again.

"Are you in pain?" Castiel asked solicitously.

Sam shook his head, braced his hands on his knees and spoke in a rush. "It's Lucifer, he's back."

Dean's pulse rushed in his ears; he could feel each individual beat. When his lack of oxygen resumed the unconscious breath he was holding, he heard that echoing, too. It was too loud and not loud enough at the same time. It didn't overpower the screaming voice in his mind. "Oh, God, what can we do? What the hell are we going to do?"

"Back how?" Castiel asked, and Dean heard it as though from underwater.

"I heard him, yesterday," Sam said. "You and I were talking and I said something and he laughed. Then…"

Dean breathed an audible sigh of relief. That was it? Okay, it was obviously not remotely fun to have Satan in your ear, but this was nothing. Sam could deal with that. He'd dealt with plenty worse before. Hell, he'd gone months with the Devil giving advice on dental hygiene and whatever other crap Sam was doing at the time. And Sam had handled it. He'd been managing it fine, visual hallucinations included, until he let Lucifer in. Yes, things had gone downhill from there pretty damn fast, but if Sam made sure to not engage, they'd be okay. And they had Castiel now.

"Then what?" Castiel asked.

"No!" the voice in Dean's mind shouted. "Then nothing, There is no then. There is just laughter, okay? That's it. That's all he needs, dammit! That's all he can take."

"Just now," Sam said apologetically. "I was getting ready to come up, and he started talking. I…"

"You spoke to him, didn't you?" Dean didn't mean to, but his words came out as an accusation. He couldn't believe Sam would be stupid enough to do that again. He'd let him in last time and it had damn near killed him. Why would he risk that again?

Sam nodded.

"Dammit, Sam! After last time, you actually let him in again!"

"That's not helping, Dean," Castiel scolded.

Sam's jaw jutted out and he spoke defiantly. "It wasn't like last time. It's not a hallucination, Dean, it's really him. And he didn't just talk to me. He took me back. I mean, I wasn't really in the cage, I know that, but I could feel it like I really was. I didn't let him in. He was already there. He's been there since the Darkness, and there is nothing I can do about it! So be angry all you like, blame me because it is my fault, but don't think I let him do anything." He panted hard, his face red. His anger had driven away the look of terror for a moment, and Dean was relieved. He would keep Sam pissed if he could, because that kept him strong. But then Sam visibly sagged in his seat and he said quietly, "I didn't let him in. He was already there."

Dean couldn't keep him pissed. He didn't have the heart to attack again when his brother looked like he was one cross word away from losing it already. Seeing Sam brought so low by this thing made his own anger surge again. That Lucifer was able to do this was wrong, unfair. Sam had already won that war once.

"Rip it out of him, Cas," he said harshly. "Get Lucifer out!"

Sam laughed. "This isn't like last time. Lucifer said when the Darkness was freed, the impact on Hell was huge. It made cracks in the cage, fissures that Lucifer is using to reach out to me through. That's why I was seeing the cage in those 'visions'. It was him feeding things to me to make me think I had to go back. You can't 'rip him out', can you, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. If what you are saying is correct, and he's reaching out to you through the cracks, I cannot stop him. He is an archangel. Even with the walls of the cage between us, he is strong enough to destroy me for even attempting it."

"Okay," Sam said quickly. "Not trying that then."

"There has to be something," Dean said impatiently. "C'mon, Cas, think outside the box."

Castiel stared down at his clasped hands, seeming deep in thought. Dean watched him, waiting for the nerdy eureka moment, but it never came. Castiel sighed and said, "There is nothing I can do. The only option available to me is too great a price to pay."

"What is it?" Dean asked. "What's it going to cost?"

Castiel sighed. "It will cost Sam."

Dean frowned. "You do realize the whole point of this conversation is to save Sam, right?"

"Yes, and I could save him from Lucifer only to destroy him regardless. The only thing that will stop Lucifer being able to access Sam is to take out the part he is reaching Sam through."

"And that's bad because?" Sam asked.

"It would essentially be a psychic lobotomy," Castiel said apologetically. "You could lose yourself, Sam. You could be left in a state that meant you could not recognize us, perhaps not recognize anything. You could be lost forever inside your own mind." He shook his head. "I would never, could never do that to you."

"Damn right you couldn't," Dean said angrily. "Jesus, Cas. That's screwed up."

Castiel rounded on him. "I said I wouldn't!"

"Okay," Sam said, defeated. "That's okay. I think I knew already that there was nothing we could do."

Dean felt anger surge through him. It was just like last time, with Sam in that damned locked ward, calm in the face of death. It wasn't like last time, Dean realized. It was worse. Not yet, of course, Sam was still Sam, but given enough time, Lucifer would bring him to his knees again. Probably faster. Last time it had been a hallucination, Sam's own mind working against him. Lucifer himself had far more imagination than Sam. He would break him so much faster. How long did he have? Months? Weeks? It wasn't years, that was for sure.

He looked across the table at Sam and saw him looking right back at him, understanding in his eyes. He knew what Dean was thinking because he was already thinking it himself. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him. He'd had a sneak preview of his fate a few years ago, dragged out of the fire by Castiel at the last minute. But Castiel couldn't save him this time, not without taking Sam as a person out of their lives.

Dean's anger rose higher. Sam was accepting this. Sure, he was scared, but that usually just made Sam fight harder. He wasn't though. He was just looking at Dean with those sorrowful eyes, as if he was already saying goodbye.

Suddenly, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stay in that room with the useless angel and fading brother. He would lose his mind if he did. That or he'd attack one of them; Castiel for his uselessness or Sam for his acceptance. He lurched to his feet, sending the chair behind him falling back to the floor, and made for the door.

"Dean, please," Sam said quietly.

Dean spun on his heel. "Please what?" he growled.

"Don't walk away. Stay and talk to me."

Dean shook his head. "Talk about what? How about the fact you've accepted Lucifer? The fact you might as well be gone already? It's easy for you, isn't it? Sure, it's going to suck for a while, but, hey, you have an out. When he's cracked your gourd completely, you won't even care anymore. It's me and Cas that'll have to deal with it then, with you, when you're gone." He turned on Castiel. "Actually, Cas, give him the lobotomy already. Make it a merciful, fast end."

"Dean!" Castiel sounded stunned.

"How?" Sam shouted, lurching to his feet. "How do I fight? C'mon, Dean, you know so much, tell me how to fight the Devil when he is in my head?"

Sam waited for Dean to speak, but he didn't. He needed Sam to get through this, to feel it. To be angry, even at Dean instead of Lucifer, would help. Anything that might strengthen him was good.

"You have no idea," Sam went on furiously, "what this feels like. Your body has always been your own. I was just a baby when Yellow-Eyes dripped blood into my mouth, violating me, and it hasn't stopped since. Meg, Lucifer, Gadreel, and now this… Tell me, Dean, how do I fight when it's an archangel on the other side of the ring? An archangel with access to my thoughts and memories, everything he needs to break me. What do I do?" His voice trembled. "What do I do, Dean?"

Dean did the only thing he could. He moved into Sam's space and threw his arms around him for a moment and then he pushed him back, hands on his shoulders. "You stay angry, Sam. You do whatever it takes to stay strong and you hold out until we find a way to stop this. There has to be something, and I'll find it, I swear. I won't, we won't let him win. Okay?"

Sam sniffed and nodded, and Dean thought maybe he saw something come to life in Sam's eyes. It could have been wishful thinking, because he needed it to be there, but he thought it looked like hope. Sam would need that hope, that anger, and that strength.

That was when Sam's eyes became distant again.

"Seriously?" Lucifer said. "You went to Dean and Castiel with this? Like they can do anything. Dean will drink himself into full blown alcoholism again and Castiel will make a great support network when the tool isn't staring vaguely into space listening to angel radio, which, by the way, is very quiet. You should ask about that."

Sam clenched his fists and fixed his will on ignoring the voice.

"Do you feel even a little bad?" Lucifer asked. "I mean, dragging them down with you, once again, is a pretty shitty move. If you'd kept your head we'd have been out of here by now, on the open road to freedom. Sure, Dean would have worried when you took off, and he'd have searched, but at least he wouldn't have to see you slowly losing your mind again. In fact, Sam, I think you're being selfish."

He would not engage. He would not talk. He knew Lucifer was wrong, but nothing good would come of it apart from giving Lucifer the pleasure of an argument.

"And do you really believe Dean is going to save you? Maybe he can. My money's on epic failure, but he's a determined little thing when it comes to his Sammy. Only, things don't always go well when he tries, do they? There was the deal, that went well. Calling off the trials, good job on that cowardice. And then Gadreel. We all know how that ended. Poor Kevin."

"Shut up!" Sam shouted, forcing the voice away. The pressure of it spiked his head with pain, but the voice fell silent at last, replaced by Dean's worry.

"Sammy? Hey, snap out of it!"

Sam opened his eyes, unaware of the point at which they had closed, and the room swam in front of him. His breath rasped in his ears, much too fast, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He made a concerted effort to calm down, but it was like he was an observer watching his own panic, not controlling it. Dean was kneeling in front of him, a hand on Sam's chest, and the other holding Sam's to his own. He was taking exaggerated slow breaths, making Sam's hand rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. The message was clear—breathe with me—but Sam couldn't.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean growled. "You can do this."

Sam nodded his agreement, but still failed to manage to slow his breaths even a little. He looked desperately into Dean's eyes, his panic growing by the moment, and then up to Castiel's troubled face, a plea in his eyes—help me!

Castiel stepped around Dean and laid a hand on Sam's chest, his palm resting beside Dean's as both his brother and his friend tried to help. "Rest," Castiel said gently, and Sam felt his eyes roll up before he collapsed forward, his head landing on Dean's shoulder as he lost consciousness.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked.

"Lucifer," Castiel replied.

"I guessed that much. What I meant was why did it knock him on his ass the way it did? It wasn't like that last time. He would see crap, but he handled it." Eventually, a voice whispered. Do you remember when you found him?

Dean's mind shot back through the years to that warehouse, Sam's gun clasped in his shaking hand and bullets ricocheting from pipes. The outright panic in Sam's eyes as he said, "I can't know that for sure," when Dean was trying to prove that he was real and Lucifer was false.

So Sam hadn't handled it at first, but Dean hadn't expected this… to see Sam so broken down by it that he couldn't even breathe properly. That was frightening. That wasn't the brother he knew. Was it a sign that Lucifer had broken him already, or was this just how it started? Would Sam get his feet under him again and handle it the way he had before for a while? Had he started along the path of losing his brother already?

"I was not there last time," Castiel reminded him. "I was living as Emmanuel. You would know better than I do how this will develop."

Dean shook his head jerkily. "I don't want to think about that right now, Cas." He adjusted his hold on Sam where he supported him in his chair, surreptitiously laying a hand on his chest so he could feel the beat of Sam's heart against his palm. It was calm now.

"Perhaps not," Castiel said. "But at some point we will need to."

"No," Dean said doggedly, "we won't. I told him I'd find a way, and I will. Lucifer will not win."

"I think you could be right."

"Damn straight."

"I think Sam might already have a way in fact."

Dean's gaze snapped from his brother's closed eyes to Castiel's thoughtful ones. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not positive," Castiel said evasively. "I will need to speak to him first."

"Then let's wake him up," Dean said. Castiel didn't disagree, so Dean patted Sam's cheek with his free hand and spoke loudly. "C'mon, Sammy, nap time's over. Rise and shine." Sam's eyes rolled and his brow furrowed, even half asleep, he looked afraid. "It's okay. Just me and Cas here," Dean said. "No one else." Though he couldn't guarantee that for Sam.

Sam nodded even as he opened his eyes. "Yeah, no one."

Taking that as reassurance that Lucifer was, at least for the moment, absent, Dean smiled at him. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," Sam said quickly. "Sorry for freaking out."

"Yeah, 'cause that was completely under your control," Dean scoffed.

"It's okay, Sam," Castiel said solemnly. "We understand."

Sam smiled at Dean and looked gratefully at Castiel. "Thank you."

Dean went to the coffee maker and poured two mugs full. He took one to Sam and then sat beside him, taking what had been Castiel's seat, and cradled his own mug in his hands. He looked pointedly at Castiel and said, "So, what was that about having a plan?"

Castiel moved around the table and took what had been Dean's seat. "Sam," he said gently, "before you became upset, Lucifer was talking to you, wasn't he?"

Sam nodded and looked apologetically at Dean. "Yeah."

"But he left," Castiel went on.

"Yeah, he was talking and…"

"You shouted at him to shut up. Did he leave immediately?"

Sam considered for a moment "No… Last time he didn't, he carried on for a moment, but that was to say how he was letting me go, and then he'd trailed off instead of finishing. This time he was just sort of gone."

Castiel looked satisfied, and Dean's eyes widened. "Are you saying he can control this? Like the hand scar?"

"No," Castiel said. "From what you told me about last time, Sam used the scar to show himself what was real and false. Lucifer is real—"

"Way to sugarcoat it, Cas," Dean muttered.

"—but Sam seems to have some control of his access. Before, when you thought it was God, Sam, you would have been eager for the visions. You were waiting for them and therefore were open. Now it's Lucifer, you seem to have the ability to… cast him out, I suppose."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. This was better than he'd hoped. He had been serious when he promised Sam he'd find a way, but they already had one. Sam was strong. He'd withstood the trials, he'd beaten out Gadreel and Lucifer once before. He could cast Lucifer out now. Sure, it wouldn't be fun, that much was evidenced by Sam's deer-in-headlights expression, but it was something when they'd had nothing.

"I can't stop him coming in," Sam said quietly.

"No," Castiel agreed, "but you can stop him getting a foothold when he does."

Dean gripped Sam's arm, feeling the tension there. "This is good news, Sam. It's not forever, I'll find a way to keep him out for good, but until then, you've got some control over the bastard. You can stop him staying!"

Sam nodded slowly. "I can do that."

"You can," Dean said confidently.

Sam spoke so quietly Dean wasn't sure he was supposed to hear him. "I have to."

Thank you all for your patience with this chapter. I'm in a bit of a mess with this story at the moment. I knew how it would end from the beginning, and now I am questioning it and that's making it hard for me to move on with the chapters between here and then.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx