Sam's P.O.V.

It's not real

It's not real

It's not real

I can hear the rattling of chains in the distance, as if at any moment I was about to be tied down and tortured. I try to control my breathing when I hear Lucifer's satanic laugh that would make any grown man cry.

I want to run out of this diner and cry for hours, but I know that I have to be strong. Strong for Dean. I tighten my knuckles, hoping to snap myself back into reality with physical pain.

A sweet southern accent utters awkwardly "Um, What can I get for you?"

My gaze snaps up to her and I notice that she looks pretty old to be working as a waitress. She has gray wispy hair and deep wrinkles that carve out her smile.

"Sorry, I'll just have a coffee."

Dean's glare burns through me as he orders, "I'll have the special and get him the Greek Salad," I glare at Dean for ordering for me like a child, but I'm too concern with ignoring Lucifer's attempts to burn me with a metal rod to actually fight with him.

"Okie dokie, we'll be right up with that" She takes the menus that we haven't touched and strolls away with an uneasy face. I never get used to people looking at me like I'm a freak. I've accepted it for the most part, but a part of me still wants to be normal.

We sit in silence...well more-so Dean. Lucifer won't leave me alone with verbal abuse. Your're a failure. Dean even looks at you like your a crazy person. You killed your mother. The list goes on.

Dean coughs loudly as if to get my attention. A spurt of anger rises in me. I'm not a child! I can have a spaced out moment of solace without being judged.

Dean notices my warning and asks, "Are we going to take the lead in Georgia? It's pretty far away, but it looks solid."

Changing the subject…smooth.

I bluntly reply letting my anger settle, "Sure."

Dean gives me a troubled stare. I ignore his gaze by looking at the desert menu even though we both know that I would never get anything.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" He takes the desert menu from my hand forcing me to look at him. His eyes burn with concern that only makes me feel more uncomfortable because Lucifer is also screaming in my ear.

I'm sick of trying to keep my composure when all I want to do is tell the freakin' devil to shut up and lock myself in a secluded room with no one judging me.

I grit my teeth out of frustration, "Yes Dean. Now please stop worrying over me. I'm fine."

Before he can respond, probably with a snappy comment, the waitress brings our food and my coffee. Dean dives into his food like he hadn't eaten for days, which almost makes me sick. I can't even think about eating when it smells like the Cage.

Dean continues to devore his burger ignoring my presence. I cautiously bring the mug to my lips afraid of the temperature. When the liquid touches my lips I immediately know the there is something wrong. The bitter taste of coffees turned into the familiar, sweet taste of demon blood. I gasp and quickly slam the mug on the table causing some blood to spill on the table. Inside the mug is the thick consitency of blood that begs me to drink the liquid power it once gave me. Oh God.

I see Lucifer next to me taunting me with his laughter. Only then, I know that the blood was fake and was only visible in my mind.

"Are you okay brother?" Dean grabs my wrist a little too tightly.

I plaster a smile on my face unable to let it reach my eyes despite my attempt, "Yeah, I'm great"

Dean knows that I'm lying, but states firmly, "Eat your food and then we can leave."

My stomach lurches as I look down to see maggots and dressing replaced with blood in my salad. There's no way I'm eating that. Lucifer wins once again. I can't even bring myself to play with my food.

"Eat. We're not picking up anything until later," Dean sounds too much like John with his deep and demanding voice.

I stutter trying to make him not worried," I-I...can't. I'm not hungry"

Dean bolts up from the booth and slams the money on the table with his food barely touched. His face looks too stern as he pulls my jacket forcing me to get up and follow him out the door.

Lucifer, of course, follows me, tormenting me for my failure to keep my brother unconcerned with my problems. Disappointment sinks in my stomach as we get in the car and drive away from the diner. I know that the second we get in a motel, Dean is going to sit me down for a deep conversation that I don't want to have. I'll never be normal.