Day 6

A/N: Finally getting to the good stuff. And much longer chapters. Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites. It means so much to me.

I will try to publish chapters regularly, but work is getting a bit more demanding. Sometimes I wish this whole cancer research thing could take a backseat to Supernatural and writing fanfic, but alas, I like to eat and sleep somewhere soft. Priorities, right?

Anyway, let me know what you think of Hallucifer this chapter! I think you'll like him. Reviews = happiness.

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Bright light pressed against his eyelids as Sam woke abruptly from REM sleep. Was it really that late in the day? He didn't feel rested. "Well, you didn't sleep for a hundred and eighty years, Sammy. Gotta make up all that time somehow!" a familiar voice cooed. Sam's eyes snapped open and he realized it wasn't sunlight that woke him, but fire light. Everywhere. How had he slept through this? He sprung off the couch, dodging debris. The beams were collapsing from the ceiling. He approached the front door but was blocked by a falling piece of burning wood. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean's coat on the hook. Dean! Sam spun, looking for his brother. He spotted him gracelessly sprawled out on the cot, Bobby opposite him.

"Dean! Bobby! Wake up!" he shouted, alternately shaking the two men. Sam wheezed as the smoke began to thicken and choke him. He slapped Dean, desperate to rouse him.

"Big brother doesn't want to wake up, huh? Might be because of all those empty bottles on the floor... Careful, he might be extra-combustible now!" Lucifer teased. A bottle appeared in Lucifer's hand. Mimicking a firebreather, he poured some lamp oil in his mouth, swished it briefly then blew flames towards Sam and Dean, igniting their clothes. Frantically patting it out, Sam resolved to get Dean out, awake or not. The window behind the cot was low enough he could probably push Dean out with minimal effort. Using his elbow to smash the glass, he cleared out all the shards, ignoring the thin red slices springing up on his skin. He lifted Dean onto the window sill and looked at the drop. It was only a few feet. He'll be fine. Better than burning in here. With a few awkward tugs and pushes, he got Dean out of the window. He heard a yelp as his brother hit the ground. He turned to get Bobby but instead saw Lucifer wink at him and then disappear. Rushing to the window, a smiling Lucifer stood over Dean as he rolled on the ground in pain. A loud shout woke Bobby and he opened his eyes in time to see Sam jump out the window.

"What the hell are you doing, Sam!?" Dean cried out as his brother accelerated towards him. The fury in his eyes caught Dean off guard. Sam positioned himself as if to pounce and Dean braced for an impact that never came. Instead, Sam tackled the air over his brother, shouting something about burning people alive. Looking up at the house, Bobby caught Dean's panicked expression. Sam rolled down the small hill locked in combat with his invisible foe. Within seconds Sam was running back up towards the cabin, ready to jump back in and rescue Bobby. The confusion on his face was evident when he saw Bobby standing at the broken window in an intact house. Sam looked to Dean, perplexed. "What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked slowly, cautiously.

Sam lifted a limp arm to half point at the structure. "It... it was burning. I couldn't wake you up. I had to save you."

"It wasn't burning. Everything's fine. Sam, we gotta stop this. Don't you know what's real?" The desolate look in his brother's eyes answered that question. "What did I say before, man, you gotta make me stone number one and build on it. Feel your hand. That's real. Those gashes going down your arms right now are real. All that other bullshit isn't."

Sam started to shake. "I…" His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. "I can't do this, Dean."

"Yes you can. Don't you dare give up. You beat him before, you can do this." He dragged himself towards Sam, reaching out for the broken shape of his brother. Grabbing his hand, he pressed the cut. "You need to use this, Sam. Use this to chase that bastard away. I've seen you do it." Sam inhaled as he pressed the cut and the lingering smell of smoke vanished. He sighed with relief and looked at Dean, desperate for affirmation. "You got this," Dean continued, saying anything to keep his attention. "C'mon, let's go back inside and get that arm looked at. The rate you're going, you won't have any limbs left to fix."

A rare moment of brevity overcame Sam as he looked at Dean's leg with an arched eyebrow and quietly said "You're one to talk, jerk!" He was trying to make Dean feel better, but the glimpse of old Sam stabbed a white-hot rod through Dean's heart. He knew he'd never have that brother back.

Dean carefully repaired the cuts on Sam's elbow, noting the hundreds of tiny scratches crisscrossing his arms from last night's incident. Sam attended the marks with curiosity but said nothing. Dean waited for Sam to say something, for him to bring up what was happening, but the thin line of Sam's lips told Dean he wouldn't talk of his own volition. Dean sighed heavily, hoping this would prompt Sam, but was discouraged when Sam didn't even seem to notice. He pressed on one of the cuts but still drew no reaction. He dabbed some rubbing alcohol on one of the deeper slashes. Sam's arm jerked a little bit but the expression on his face remained unchanged. Sam was a thousand miles away. Thankful Bobby was out getting more first aid supplies, Dean poured the alcohol into a still open wound and was pleased when this had the desired effect. Sam sucked in air through clenched teeth, immediately grounded to reality by the burning pain. Sam looked at his brother as if he were about to chew him out but his expression softened as their eyes met. Sam instantly looked away, shamefully aware of his brokenness.

Dean sighed again. "Sam. We need to talk about this."

Sam drew his lower lip into his mouth as he stared at the corner of the room with intense fascination. He swallowed the anxiety rising in his throat. "What is there to talk about?"

Dean suppressed a growl. He knew he had to be gentle with Sam, but if Sam was going to be in denial, all bets were off. "What's going on." He decided to take it easy on his battered brother when Sam's shoulders hunched in. "Is it not getting better? Are you still seeing Lucifer?"

Sam flicked a glance at Dean then stared at his hands. "Yeah. It's just as bad as it was before…"

"Before what? Before you got knocked out?" Sam nodded. "But you know now, right? You know you're not in Hell? You can chase him away. You got out. This is real." Sam's jaw tensed and he shifted uncomfortably. "What? That doesn't help?"

Sam bit his lip then inhaled. "It almost makes it worse…"

Dean's brow furrowed. "What?! Why?"

Sam apprehensively looked at Dean, his eyes clearly wishing to look anywhere but his brother's concerned face. "Because if this is real, that means I have to fight, and –" Sam hesitated.

"What do you mean?" Dean interrupted.

Sam glanced away again, unwilling to admit his weakness directly to Dean. "In Hell, I learned it was better if I didn't fight. It was easier to just let him do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he got mad because he got bored, and he made me fight, but what was the point? He'd torture me either way." Sam paused but Dean had nothing to offer. "Knowing that this, that what he's doing, isn't real, is almost worse. It's so hard to figure out what's really happening and what's him."

"Well, easy, anything really bad is him," Dean offered.

Sam scoffed incredulously. "Really, Dean?" Dean shot him a quizzical look. "Have you seen our lives? 'Really bad' is every other day."

Dean considered this for a second but decided it wasn't worth exploring further. "Right, but you gotta know the difference between life-bad and Hell-bad."

"What, like this morning? Dean, if the cabin really was burning, I wouldn't have had the luxury of figuring out what was real. Better to act as if it's real and deal with the consequences later."

"No, Sam. Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous. You can't honestly believe that."

Another Dean appeared across from him, smiling comfortingly. The thin line returned to Sam's lips. Dean knew Sam was barely keeping it together. "I don't know what else to do," he confessed. He unintentionally gave Dean the puppy eyes. The frustration creeping into his brother evaporated.

"Try to figure out if it could be happening. Ignore him. Use your hand. If that doesn't work, you ask me."

Sam bobbed his head in agreement, as did the Dean copy. Sam tried desperately to mask the panic grasping at the edges of his tattered mind. The other Dean spoke up. "Yeah, Sam, just ask me. I'll tell you what's real. You can count on me."

Sam bit his cheek and focused his attention on the real Dean. At least he prayed he was the real Dean. His stomach grumbled loudly and he decided this was an opportune distraction. "I can't remember the last time I ate something. I'm starving."

"I can get you some cereal while I make some real food," Dean suggested as he rose.

"You mean I make some real food. You need to sit your ass down and get off that leg." Bobby ordered as he entered the cabin and turned on the stove.

"I'll take whatever," replied Sam, hoping to quickly quell the now deafening roar in his stomach that reminded him of darker sounds. Dean offered him the box and a mostly clean bowl, with a slightly rusty spoon.

"What, no bowl for me?" Lucifer frowned, feeling left out. Sam flinched as the devil loudly dragged a chair up to the table. "Never did like your brother. Always so rude. Guess I'll just have to get my own." He rubbed his hands together as a part of a human skull appeared before him. He reached for the box but Sam angrily snatched it first.

"Didn't know you liked corn flakes so much!" Dean observed, trying to figure out what Sam was experiencing.

Sam's expression softened as he met his brother's eyes. "Like I said, I'm so hungry. How long was I out?"

"Well, you were out cold for almost five days. You woke up yesterday but, uh, not sure how much you remember. You were pretty out of it." The image of the giant isopod crept into Dean's consciousness and he shuddered. I hope you don't remember it!

"Uhh, I remember bits and piec—" he stopped mid-sentence, staring at his half-full bowl in horror. Centipedes, ticks, worms, and too-green eyeballs writhed in the ceramic in a pool of churning pus. Recalling Dean's advice, he dropped the box and made a deliberate move to press his wrapped hand. The tension eased on his face.

"What, what do you see?" Dean asked casually. C'mon, let me in, Sammy.

"Nothing." He paused and Dean gave him an intense look. "Wouldn't wanna ruin your appetite," he replied and smiled weakly. His hand was unsteady as he poured the milk.

Dean was getting impatient. "You gotta tell me what's going on, what crazy crap you're seeing. That way I can tell you what's real."

"It's fine, Dean," he insisted. But Dean didn't miss Sam's hesitation before he put the spoon in his mouth, or the grimace on his face once he did.

A loud bang caught Dean's attention and he opened the bathroom door enough to hear Sam spit out "No, you don't get to touch me ever again, you fucking pervert." Pervert? Dean thought, confused. His eyes went to a fork embedded in the table. This was getting to be too much. Dean moved to rescue his brother but the anger in his voice made him freeze. "She didn't just die. You killed her. You killed her because of your little pissing match with God and Michael. Because big, bad Lucifer couldn't bear to be wrong." Mom? Are you talking about mom with Lucifer? Dean watched as Sam listened attentively to his invisible companion and then started to tremble. He wrapped his arms around himself and bowed his head, looking so small for such a giant. After a few moments, he jolted and snapped his head up, staring evenly across the table. Sweat started to glisten on his skin and he was clenching the edge of the table.

"Right. Ever the humanitarian." Dean could only wonder at the other half of the conversation. "You break it, you buy it," Sam retorted, quickly followed by "It's a figure of speech, you fucktard. Oh, wait, I forgot, angels know nothing about human culture despite being explicitly instructed by God to serve and protect them!" Again anger surged in Sam's voice. "You twisted a human soul into the first demon. You probably have had more interaction with humans than every other angel. For not liking humans, you spend an awful lot of time with them! You spent 180 years with me." Dean shuddered; he had only survived thirty years before breaking. "What other angel has done that?" Sam challenged. What the hell are they talking about?! Whatever it was, it had Sam recoiling in horror. "Are you—are you saying, you're—" What Sam? Finish your goddamn sentence! I can't help you if I don't know what's happening! "You're lying!" He's the fucking devil, Sammy. It's kind of what he does. Sam half rose out of his seat as his temper flared. "Yeah, because you took it! You took it when you tortured me for decades. No one is supposed to endure that kind of suffering! You shredded my soul, so don't expect me to be too shocked if you didn't glue all the scraps back together!"

Dean closed his eyes. Sam. God, Sam, what have I done to you? Crushing guilt made his body feel heavy and he struggled to remain standing. "That's not true. I've saved thousands of lives. And you had no role in that." Dean wished more than anything he was privy to this conversation, because the half he was hearing was impossible to follow. "That wasn't my fault." You tell him, Sam! "This isn't Dean's fault either! Regardless, you would have found some other way out." Dean was heartened to hear Sam defending him but he knew he wasn't entirely innocent. Depending on what Lucifer was accusing him of, the devil could be right. "But Azazel created many psychics—" Azazel?! Can't Satan stick to one goddamn topic? "Well, A+ on your organizational skills, but it still failed. You failed." Tell him, Sam. "Never. Over my dead body are you setting foot outside the cage ever again." Dean suppressed a scoff. Like that will ever happen.

Suddenly Sam leaned forward as if hypnotized, then snapped himself out of it. He bowed his head into his fists. His voice came out in a tight angry shout. "You manipulated me to feel that way. You made me feel different and alone, my whole life. Made me a stranger in my own family. You made me a freak." Dean again closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out these words as much as he could shut out the heartbreaking sight before him. Sam, no… "You did this to me. You made it so that I would feel one with you because you knew you'd never convince me otherwise. You rigged the game and preyed on my weakness, a weakness you embedded in me in the first place!" The agony in his voice tore at Dean's heart. "I want nothing to do with you. I didn't then, I don't now. You can take your god act and shove it up your holier-than-thou fallen archangel ass." Dean smiled faintly at Sam's defiance but frowned when he heard Sam's sharp intake of breath. "Enough!" The harsh sound of shattering glass jolted Dean into open-eyed awareness. He had to stop this before Sam hurt himself.

Sam picked at the omelet Bobby had made. He appreciated the fresh veggies the older man had thoughtfully prepared, but couldn't bring himself to finish it. He had made a show of eating it while Bobby and Dean were watching, but now he was alone. Well, as alone as I can be… he thought, glancing at his companion. His stomach churned as Lucifer leered at him across the table. "What, am I disturbing your delicate constitution? Or does little Sammy Winchester need someone to fly the food into his mouth?" He mocked the parental motion, accompanying it with sounds of explosions as he neared Sam's face. Sam steeled himself and tried to eat to spite Lucifer. The texture became slimy and disconcerting. He almost gagged swallowing it. "And here I thought I got rid of your gag reflex!" Lucifer commented, seemingly surprised. He rubbed at himself seductively and what little of Sam's appetite had remained instantly evaporated. "If you're hungry for something else…" the devil offered, smiling. "Don't you remember all the fun we had? Surely you miss me." He smiled innocently at Sam and batted his eyelashes.

"Get the hell away from me," Sam growled, repulsed by his own skin as memories flooded his awareness.

"But, Sammy, we had it so good. You were screaming, I was happy…" Lucifer looked wistfully into the distance. He sighed then refocused his attention on Sam. "Though, I bet if we tried, we could recreate our little paradise here." Lucifer reached out towards Sam.

His reaction was visceral, one of pure fear and self-defense. Fork in hand, he slammed it down on Lucifer's hand to pin him to the table. "No, you don't get to touch me ever again, you fucking pervert."

Lucifer feigned offense as he removed the fork and put it calmly on Sam's plate. "Now that was rude. I would have thought your mother taught you better manners. Oh, wait, she couldn't, because she died! Ha!" He smiled smugly as Sam bristled with outrage.

"She didn't just die. You killed her. You killed her because of your little pissing match with God and Michael. Because big, bad Lucifer couldn't bear to be wrong."

"I don't have to bear it, because I'm not wrong," Lucifer replied defensively. "I've never been wrong, Sam, and you know it. You know it." Lucifer held Sam's gaze briefly and a powerful wave of righteousness surged over Sam. The same sensation as when he said 'yes', when he accepted the devil into his body. The vitriolic anger of Lucifer's betrayal had coursed through him and consumed him. He remembered being shocked because Lucifer was so calm while in Nick's vessel. The demeanor of Lucifer-as-Nick was so gentle; to think he was filled with such rage was impossible to imagine. Sam wasn't sure what being possessed by an archangel was going to be like, but it wasn't this. Chained to a comet didn't start to describe it. It was more comparable to being a wispy thin layer of plastic wrap around the Big Bang. Instantly obliterated, disintegrated, destroyed, but present and absolutely powerless to contain the sheer force and energy exploding outward that would change the face of all creation.

Lucifer cleared his throat and Sam was instantly alert. That sound meant Lucifer was getting impatient, and he knew better than to keep the angel waiting. He had learned the hard way. He realized he had curled in on himself, the memory of Lucifer's agonizing presence physically crushing him. He returned his gaze to his hallucination, attentive despite knowing his companion was not real. Knowing and believing are two very different things, and Sam Winchester was only guilty of the former. Lucifer toyed with his lower lip, watching contentedly as Sam became increasingly agitated. Whenever Lucifer took this long to attack him, it meant he was thinking up something so extraordinary that the subsequent torture would feel like a massage. Lucifer arched an eyebrow and smirked. It was almost too easy to rattle Sam. "I miss the fight, Sam. Where's that spunky human attitude? You had it a week ago. Did that Leviathan knock it loose with the crowbar or something? I'm sure I could find it if I spelunked through that rat's nest of a brain long enough. Done it before, can do it again," he sighed, as if bored with the idea. "What do you think, Sammy? I'll do it for you." He smiled amiably.

Sam scoffed. "Right. Ever the humanitarian."

Lucifer nodded vigorously. "Yeah, that one, right there. Think you could muster that up for me? No fun playing with a soggy ragdoll."

"You break it, you buy it," Sam spat.

"So you admit I broke you?" The grin on the archangel's face was malicious and gleeful.

Sam's jaw clenched. "It's a figure of speech, you fucktard. Oh, wait, I forgot, angels know nothing about human culture despite being explicitly instructed by God to serve and protect them!"

Lucifer held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I've been downstairs for most of the time. I may be guilty of a thing or two, but I never got the chance to dive into human culture. Not that I wanted to, anyway," he added almost under his breath.

"You twisted a human soul into the first demon. You probably have had more interaction with humans than every other angel," Sam accused. "For not liking humans, you spend an awful lot of time with them! You spent 180 years with me. What angel has done that, huh?"

Lucifer's smile became sly. "You did afford me a very special gift, Sammy. How generous of you to give of yourself so willingly, to be an angel's plaything while I learned every weakness of a righteous soul. It's true, no other angel has knit itself into a human's soul. All that time we spent together, me rebuilding you over and over… I got to upgrade the model a little bit." He winked then crossed his arms as realization spread on Sam's face.

"Are you—are you saying, you're—" Sam sputtered, unable to continue.

"I'm in you, Sam. You let me in and I never completely left. You are my true vessel and once we were joined—not even the big G himself can tear us apart. Why else would you be so important? You are my link to the outside universe. Through you I will once again escape the cage. Inevitably, you will set me free."

"You're lying," Sam gasped.

Lucifer sighed with exasperation. "Told you before, and I'll tell you again. I don't need to lie, Sam. I know you feel it, too. Part of you is missing." He looked compassionate and this suddenly enraged Sam.

"Yeah, because you took it!" He jabbed an angry finger at Satan. "You took it when you tortured me for decades. No one is supposed to endure that kind of suffering! You shredded my soul, so don't expect me to be too shocked if you didn't glue all the scraps back together!" Sam's voice escalated to a shout towards the end.

"No, the part you're missing is me," Lucifer explained calmly. "You're like the border pieces of a puzzle. You define the puzzle but don't add much to it besides form. Me, I'm the point, I'm the picture, the aesthetic worth working so hard to assemble. Sure, without you, it's much more difficult. But without me, it's pointless. Without me, you're pointless, Sam."

Sam's face twitched with anger and disgust. "That's not true," he hissed. "I've saved thousands of lives. And you had no role in that."

"And you've killed millions." Lucifer shrugged. "I know you're not brilliant Sam, but surely even you can do that math."

"That wasn't my fault."

Lucifer nodded and ran a finger over his lips. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. But if Dean hadn't brought you back, if he hadn't tried so hard to save you all those countless times, would the Apocalypse have happened?"

"This isn't Dean's fault either! Regardless, you would have found some other way out."

The devil shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But I could only do it with you. It had to be you."

"But Azazel created many psychics—"

Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. "Azazel was a moron. Obedient, but a moron all the same. Demons. So eager to please." He rolled his eyes. "It always had to be you. Couldn't have the lower downs know that, of course."

"Well, A+ on your organizational skills, but it still failed. You failed."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that, Sammy. You still got a lot of years left to live, plenty of chances to let me out again."

"Never. Over my dead body are you setting foot outside the cage ever again."

"I can arrange that! No problem-o." Lucifer smiled affably. "Sam," he drawled out the syllable, urging the young hunter to believe him. "C'mon, don't tell me you really thought you were done with me?" He turned on the charisma and Sam felt the draw. "Remember, I felt what you felt. I know how you feel about me, Sammy." Golden light emanated from his skin and Sam bit back the surge of wonder that rose against his will. Lucifer may be an archangel, God's favorite, but it didn't excuse his actions.

Sam closed his eyes and clenched his fists, bringing them to his temples. "You manipulated me to feel that way. You made me feel different and alone, my whole life. Made me a stranger in my own family. You made me a freak." He brought his head up to glare at the entity responsible for so much suffering in his life. "You did this to me. You made it so that I would feel one with you because you knew you'd never convince me otherwise. You rigged the game and preyed on my weakness, a weakness you embedded in me in the first place!" Sam's voice wavered between a yell and total oblivion.

Lucifer chewed on his lip as he listened to Sam's outburst, the emotion seeming to barely register. "It's not a weakness, Sam. It's an incredible gift. To be able to host an archangel? We could have been gods, you and I."

"I want nothing to do with you. I didn't then, I don't now. You can take your god act and shove it up your holier-than-thou fallen archangel ass."

Lucifer smiled. "Only if it's your ass." He laughed at the immediate discomfort visible in Sam's tensed body. "Hmm, self-sodomy. You think that's a thing? I suppose we could make it a thing… Might take some experimentation. Can an archangel enter its vessel through—"
"Enough!" Sam shouted. He snatched his glass and threw it at the twisted angel, who teleported out of view. It shattered against the now empty chair. Lucifer's laugh echoed in his mind and he brought his hands to his head, wishing he could drown out the maddening sound. Yet he knew that nothing short of death would free him from this torment.

The squeak of the bathroom door caught his attention and he turned to see Dean, wide-eyed, staring at him. Shame flushed his cheeks as he realized Dean had overheard the entire thing. He stood up abruptly and hurried over to start picking up the broken pieces littering the chair and the floor.

"Sam," Dean hesitated, unsure how to proceed. He hobbled over on the crutches, careful to be quiet as to not further fluster his brother. "What—what was he saying to you?"

Sam paused, running through his possible responses. "You wanna know what Lucifer was saying, really?" he asked dubiously.

"I only heard half the conversation…"

Sam winced inwardly. This was mortifying. It was bad enough that he felt compelled to interact with his hallucination. It was worse to have someone else bear witness to it. He looked up at Dean, whose eager face brimmed with sympathy. He struggled to compose himself, hiding the effort with a helpless shrug. "Just the usual. Explaining how I can't get rid of him. That he's with me forever." Dean waited for Sam to continue but he offered nothing more. He absent-mindedly massaged his hand and that seemed to calm him.

"You know that's not true, right?"

"I know, Dean, but you're not there. You don't know what it's like."

"I wish I could understand, I really do. And that's why I need you to talk to me, tell me what's going on. What about all that other stuff? Mom? Azazel?"

"Bullshit he spews to try and confuse me." His shoulders sagged listlessly. "I don't even know what's true anymore… He claims he's always had control over my life because I was destined for him. And that I'll let him out again one day."

"Like you said: that's never gonna happen."

Sam nodded, vindication edging around his demeanor. "I know. I'd rather die than release him again."

"Don't say that," Dean urged.

Sam's face hardened. "What? It's true," he replied evenly, daring Dean to contradict him.

Dean swallowed against the discomfort in his throat. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then continued. "Do you really feel like you didn't belong in our family?"

Sam's nostrils flared as he considered the question. He looked away from Dean. "Isn't it pretty obvious? I don't. I'm the freak with the demon blood, Satan's vessel. You guys are all hunters. Me? I'm the thing to be hunted."

"No, Sam, that's not true."

"Uh, last I checked, I started the Apocalypse…"

Dean sighed in annoyance. "Yes, you did, but don't forget I helped out pretty majorly with that, too. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but you are a part of this family. Always have been, always will be, whether you like it or not. And you haven't always liked it, I know, but dammit Sam, you are my brother and nothing will ever change that." The vehemence in Dean's voice cleared some of the residual haze in Sam's mind. He rolled his lips into his mouth as he stole a glance at Dean. It was near impossible not to believe Dean when he got this way. Even injured, his stance was wide, his body puffed up with defiance as he challenged Sam to disagree with him. He knew he would be unwise to do so. He suppressed that nagging voice that doubted everything about everyone every day and nodded in acquiescence. "We good now?" Dean's voice softened fractionally.

"Yeah, we're good," Sam replied, actually feeling a bit better.

"Good. I'm gonna pop in the shower. If you hear a loud crash, only get me if you hear me shout. Wouldn't want to scar your virgin eyes," Dean joked, grinning at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, but had to discretely press his fingers to his palm to banish Lucifer's pithy comments about Sam in no way being a virgin, especially not after Lucifer had finished with him.

While Dean was showering, Sam made his move. If Dean really wanted to help, he'd have to understand what Sam was going through. An easy, safe way to do that was with dream root. He found an online retailer and ordered some to be express shipped to the local FedEx office for in-store pick-up. He'd figure out how to get it from there later. Surely Bobby would let him borrow the car? He frowned, weighing his chances. He'd probably have to take Dean along as a baby sitter. He shrugged. That probably wasn't the worst idea. Who knows what other shit Lucifer would try to pull. He shook his head, discouraging himself from that line of thought. He started reading the news to catch up on what was going on the world. Unconsciously, he was looking for signs of the Leviathan infiltration. He calmed as he found only the usual human chaos. He soon found it difficult to keep his eyes open and surrendered to sleep.

Bobby entered the cabin to see Dean awkwardly moving the armchair towards the couch. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna be there while he sleeps, when he wakes up, whenever he needs me. Lucifer can't have him. He was my brother first!" Dean pushed the chair up towards the head of the couch and dropped into it. It would be the first of many vigils.

Dean allowed himself to drop off into a light sleep periodically. Like a cat, an eye popped open whenever he heard Sam shift, ready to wake him and rescue him from Lucifer. Dean knew from experience that waking from Hell-induced nightmares was particularly difficult. He recalled many nights Sam had woken him by shaking, water to the face, or a strategically placed gunshot by the ear when Dean was really trapped. It had gotten better for him over the years. He hoped he could say the same for Sam. Were he to be truthful with himself, Dean doubted any amount of time could heal those wounds. What had Cas said? That when he touched his soul, it felt like it had been skinned alive? He pushed his breath through pursed lips and tried to expel the memory. The soft breeze made Sam's nose twitch and he smiled at the unconscious response. All he had ever wanted to do was protect Sam from the supernatural. Instead he had allowed him to jump, of his own volition, into the worst place in the universe. Bobby was right. Nothing could change that now. He just had to defend Sam at all costs.

Sam laid on the couch, idly flicking through the channels in search of something to distract his mind. He had slept for a few hours but didn't feel any better. He'd woken up out of a particularly fire-filled round of torture and into Dean's frantic worry. Dean had forced him to take some Tylenol to bring down his fever. Sam knew he wasn't actually sick, but did so to appease Dean. He just felt so tired. He was getting plenty of sleep but it wasn't restful sleep. The more tired he got, the easier for Lucifer to pierce his defenses. He supposed that was the point. He sighed quietly, hoping not to catch Dean's attention. He was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled almost rancid. Sam breathed through his mouth and focused on the TV.

The screen currently showed some crazy cooking show. The host was discussing how best to roast an entire pig. "Before the break, we showed you that the pit method is the easiest and most fool-proof way. Now let's see the results of our hard work!" Four men took turns shoveling loose dirt out of a pit, finally revealing an aluminum foil-wrapped mass. Using metal pipes as levers, they lifted the pig out of the hole and rolled it onto the ground. They rubbed their hands together in anticipation. Sam watched with subtle curiosity as two of the men carefully peeled away the foil and burned banana leaves. The last strip down the carcass was removed and horror filled Sam. It was not a pig, but Sam's body. One of the men knelt down with a knife and cut away a rib.

"Now this is where it's at!" The camera panned up and it was Lucifer, smiling. He took a bite of the rib, out of Sam, and released a moan of satisfaction. "Absolute perfection," he mumbled through a full mouth. "All that demon blood adds just the right amount of spice," he commented to the other man, who stepped into view. Yellow eyes shone vividly.

"Don't just talk about it, hand some over!"

"Any part in particular?" Lucifer asked cordially.

Azazel paused a moment, then nodded. "Lengua, please."

Lucifer smiled and moved up to Sam's head. He forced open his jaw and Sam cringed as he heard the tissue rip and the bones crunch. Azazel handed Lucifer a pair of tongs. He grabbed Sam's tongue and tried to pull it straight out, but was met with resistance. He wrenched the stubborn muscle back and forth until it broke free, juices dripping from the shredded end. Azazel speared it with a fork and brought it to his mouth. He bit into the chewy tissue and smiled as he struggled to free a piece. Succeeding, he sucked on the chunk and a visible shudder of delight shivered his body. "Just how I remember it," Azazel praised.

Lucifer grinned with satisfaction. Looking into the camera, he nodded thoughtfully. "There's another singular part that is rather good, though a bit taboo to some…" Lucifer glanced down and the camera followed his gaze to Sam's groin.

Sam scrambled for the remote and was relieved when the image blinked out of view. He rested his head back against the armrest. Sleep, he just wanted a good night's sleep… He sighed heavily, knowing that wasn't in his future.

Dean heard his sigh. "Anything I can get for you, Sam? A beer? Something to eat?"

"Is what you're making even edible?" Sam complained, the smell burning his nose.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Dean sniffed the air. "Was trying to make fish and chips. Okay, maybe I went a little overboard on the vinegar…"

Sam scrunched his brow in confusion. "Isn't that usually deep fried?"

"Jeez, Chef Ramsay. I'm doing what I can here, okay? You want some or not?"

Sam put his hands up in submission. "Sure, I'll try some."

Dean clanked around the kitchen for a few minutes while Sam watched him with a slight smile. Dean being domestic. The thought was ridiculous.

Dean limped over to Sam balancing two plates in his un-crutched arm. Sam gratefully accepted the plate, his hunger making the previously-offensive odor tantalizing. "Thanks, Dean." He looked down at the hunk of fish and immediately noticed a strange pattern in the scales. He brought it closer to his face and nearly dropped it as he realized the pattern was what remained of an anti-possession symbol. He reluctantly prodded the chunk of meat with his fork. His stomach twisted as he saw it was not fish, but the flesh of a mammal. Human flesh. His flesh. He put the plate down forcefully and tried to calm his nerves.

"You haven't even had any yet. Did I fuck it up that much?" Dean asked through a mouthful, just like Lucifer. Sam's stomach tumbled.

"No, I, uh, just lost my appetite for a second…"

"Luc—" Dean paused to swallow his bite—a bite of Sam's meat—"—ifer?"

Sam nodded imperceptibly, fighting the bile rising up his throat. "I think I just need more sleep and I'll feel better," Sam said, half-hoping, half-lying.

"Then go to bed."

"Sleep isn't really working out for me, Dean."

"How about some Benadryl? Take four of those and you should be out like a light!" Dean offered.

Sam pondered it briefly then agreed. "Sure." Anything that might help him get some goddam rest.

Chemical- and nightmare-induced exhaustion tugged at Sam's eyelids. He wanted more than anything to pass out. But Lucifer was there, babbling aimlessly. Sam wasn't even hearing the words, but his voice alone kept him on edge, pushing away sleep just enough to prevent his release from awareness. Lucifer quieted for a moment, but when he spoke up, his voice was much closer, causing Sam to open his eyes into an alert state.

"I have to say, all this talk about the good ol' days has made me nostalgic. What do you say we take a trip down memory lane?" He reached out to touch Sam's temple. His victim recoiled as much as he could but it was pointless. The cold fingers made contact with sweaty skin and Sam was no longer conscious.

Falling. Screaming. The hiss of air rushing around him, robbing his lungs of the oxygen he so desperately needed. Adam, he could see Adam— no, it was Michael —falling with him, with them. Lucifer tore furiously at his mind, willing himself to take control. A spindle of light burst from Adam's body and rocketed towards the sky. Instinctively he knew it was Adam's soul. Michael had saved him. Sam knew he would not be so lucky. Lucifer's grip on his soul was suffocating. He saw the earthlight disappear as the hole closed up and he gave in. Lucifer trampled him in his attempt to stop their descent. Massive golden wings burst forth and fought the magical pull of the cage. Michael had the same idea. Sam watched with panic as the other archangel's bluish wings began to smoke and char. Feathers sloughed off as the wings disintegrated, lost in the murky blackness that was rapidly consuming them. It was only with Lucifer's cries of anguish that Sam realized the same thing was happening to Lucifer. And as the pain hit him, he understood it was happening to him, too. They were still one, falling and burning together, both cursed by their actions. He looked down and saw the cage amidst the violent flashes of lightning raging around them. It seemed small. Too small to hold an archangel, never mind two. Dread filled both angel and vessel as they plummeted towards their new home. A trail of luminescent grace marked their path and Sam could feel the angelic essence ebbing from Lucifer, his once glorious wings reduced to a smattering of shrapnel protruding from his back. Profound grief penetrated Sam's fear and he actually felt a surge of empathy for the fallen angel. He had a moment of lucidity as he felt Lucifer cling to him. The sensation was harshly interrupted as they crossed the threshold of the cage. A hundred thousand blades sliced into him, peeling the archangel from his being. They both screamed as they were torn from one another, desperately holding on to the only familiar entity in this alien realm. Sam watched helplessly as the brilliant light of Lucifer's true form drifted away from him. He was so distracted by the transcendent glow he didn't realize his fall was coming to an end until countless spikes impaled his broken body and everything went black.

Sensation returned to him slowly, trickling in like a dripping tap. Fragments of sound reached his ears and he forced himself to open his eyes. He expected to see the cage looming above him but instead saw nothing. Looking down, there was nothing beneath him. Was he still falling? Was the cage perpetual falling? He didn't feel like he was still in motion—but then again, his brain bizarrely reminded him, pilots in a long enough turn lose the sensation that they're turning because the pressure in their ears equalizes. They're still turning but they think they're not, sometimes dooming themselves to a death spiral into the ground. Maybe he would just be eternally falling, his body's attempt at equilibrium pointless and so he felt like he was still. Who's to say physics even worked in the cage? He shook his head, dismissing all these ridiculous thoughts. He concentrated on getting vertical and was somehow able to push himself up to standing, an effort which earned him a wave of sharp pain drilling into his hands. Continuous sound filtered back in and he recognized it as that ear-piercing whine, the unnerving squeal of an angel's voice. He moved towards the noise and found himself not only able to tolerate it, but more unexpectedly, understand it.

It was Lucifer, begging.

"Father! I don't understand! Is this not what You wanted? Were we not supposed to fight upon the chosen field, a battle to prove who was right? If not, why didn't You just kill me? Why imprison me for eternity? I've done what I thought was right, what I believed in. And now I'm thrown back into the pit, for what purpose? I don't understand." He paused, and the bright light flickered momentarily. "What do You want?!" Lucifer yelled. "Why did You deny me again?" A wave of rage emanating from the desperate angel surged over Sam.

Another indescribably bright light joined Lucifer's. "Because we must conclude that free will really does exist, little brother," Michael said, but his voice was more like a crack of thunder rolling through Sam. "I, too, am surprised. I thought the world fated, I thought for sure this was one of Father's tests and that He would return once the battle was won."

"No doubt, you believed you'd be victorious!" Lucifer snapped.

"Of course, Lucifer. That was our destiny."

"Your destiny!" he retorted. "I do not deserve to die, nor do I deserve to be here."

"Yes, you do. You betrayed us and this is your punishment, as handed down by our Father. It is I who should not be trapped here with you. But, I suppose the Winchesters have made fools of us both."

"Winchester!" Lucifer snarled, the word felt more than pronounced. Sam sensed the light focus on him as uncontrollable anger engulfed him. "You did this to me!" he exploded. The light overcame him and Sam felt himself atomized. He had no time to recognize his non-existence before he was put back together. He blinked his eyes open as a strong hand sealed around his neck. Lucifer had taken on Nick's visage, though his eyes shone with an eerie red glow. "Sam Winchester. You will suffer for all of eternity for this injustice. You will never again know peace, not through joy or through death." Lucifer snapped his neck, rending his head from his body. Instantly, he was restored. "We had a deal, Sam!" He tore out the human's heart, not even waiting for Sam to die to renew him. "One round!" Manifesting his angel blade, he sliced his captive in half. "No tricks!" he roared. He stabbed him through the eye. "I won!" he screamed. "I won and you betrayed me!" He ripped Sam limb from limb, his fury unappeased. "You lied! You tricked me! And for that you will pay with your life trillions of times over!" He crushed his chest and blood flooded Sam's lungs, his dying coughs spraying Lucifer as he prepared his next attack.

And so Lucifer's murderous rampage continued for the next six months, until he bored of killing his wayward vessel every couple of seconds, and decided that drawn-out torture would be much more satisfying.