Day 9: Part III

A/N: Warnings for torture, suicide, and mentions of rape.

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"You're a monster," Dean gurgled, his voice failing him. The older Winchester looked broken and limp in the cold stone chair. Lucifer grinned victoriously, pleased that his actions had had the desired effect.

"Last I checked, you were pretty fond of calling your brother that, so perhaps this is what he deserves," Lucifer said calmly.

"I am going to tear every bone from your body, make you wish you never existed," Dean snarled, his voice so harsh it sounded alien to even his own ears.

"Ask Sammy for some pointers on that. He'll have loads of suggestions," Lucifer replied helpfully. He stretched and rolled his shoulders. "I'll leave you two alone. I'd say give Sam a whirl, but, you're so good at fucking over your little brother, I doubt it's anything new." With that snide comment, he disappeared. Dean felt the restraint wither.

He tried to stand but his muscles wouldn't budge. Tears and words escaped him as he gazed at the shell of his baby brother sprawled on the floor. Dean almost questioned whether he was alive, but the slight rise and fall of his back negated the need. "Sammy?" Dean managed, gathering all his strength for the two syllables.

"'M s'r'y, D'n," Sam replied after a long pause, his voice hoarse and unrecognizable.

"Sam," Dean's heart broke and he couldn't continue. He didn't know what he would say even if he could. They remained in silence for what felt like a lifetime.

Sam stirred and locked his attention on something. Dean followed his gaze and saw the object of his desire. He eyed the knife Lucifer had given Dean earlier, the blade now coated in Sam's sticky blood, laying abandoned on the floor. They both scrambled to reach the blade first. The healthier Dean swiped it from Sam's long arm. Sam turned to him, begging. "Please, Dean, kill me. I want to die. I can't live like this. The things I've said, the things I've done, the things I've lived. Please. If you really cared about me, you'd put me out of my misery." Tears rolled silently down his filthy cheeks, cleaning tiny rivulets in the blood and dirt. Dean couldn't bear to watch Sam suffer in excruciating pain any longer.

"Okay, Sammy." Sam went limp, expectant as he welcomed death. His brother's entire existence plead with him but Dean turned away. I can't kill you, Sammy. I'd rather die. He stood. "Alright, you dick!" Dean shouted to the air. "You win! I'll listen to your crappy story!" Dean looked around the dark room but did not see their captor. "You hear me?" he yelled. "I'm ready! I'll listen!" Silence surrounded them, broken only by Sam's anguished sobs. Sam grasped at his ankles, reaching for the knife. Desperation started to edge into Dean. "Don't be a pouter! I'm saying 'yes'! Don't you love that word?!" Dean waited. He tried to shake Sam off. "Let go, Sam." Sam clawed at him, frantic in his desire for oblivion. Dean moved more vigorously but still Sam clung to him. "Let go, Sam!" He thrashed and Sam fought back, knocking Dean onto the ground. Sam lunged for the blade, gripping Dean's wrist firmly. Using his free arm, he swung at Sam and made contact with his temple. Sam's deadweight collapsed on him. Dean pushed him off and rolled away. He stared up into Lucifer's grin.

"Thanks for doing that for me. I knew you'd come around." He kicked Sam's unconscious body and smiled approvingly.

"You do that again and you'll regret showing your douchey face."

"Oh, like this?" He swung his leg back and struck Sam's head, liberating blood from his already broken nose. He laughed. "Stop bluffing, Dean. Gets rather tiresome."

Dean clenched his teeth and nodded slightly. "Okay, whatever. We're both here. Get on with it." Nothing could be worse than what he had already endured—what Sam had endured. He halted, hoping to get something out of the deal. "Fix him, and I'll listen to anything you say."

"It would be my pleasure," Lucifer said in such a manner that Dean shivered to think about what else pleases the devil. Lucifer snapped his fingers and Sam was restored, but still unconscious. Another chair appeared and Lucifer motioned for Dean to take it. Lucifer propped his legs up on Sam's chest. Dean held his tongue, determined not to give Lucifer the satisfaction. "Too late for that, Dean," he winked.

"Can—can you—" Dean sputtered.

Lucifer just smiled in response. "You're in my vessel, so, yes, I can read your mind." Dean felt his hands twitch with anger as Lucifer used that possessive intonation about his brother. "You see, Sam was made for me. A custom-tailored suit, bespoke, if you would. When he said 'yes', we were joined together, two halves made whole. Every part of him is mine now, infused with my essence."

"What are you saying?" Dean asked coldly, already regretting agreeing to hear him out.

"In an angel's vessel, especially its true vessel," Lucifer looked down at Sam tenderly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "there's a hole, an ache, crying out to the angel, a beacon should the angel need to walk upon the Earth. When that union occurs, the angel gives of itself to satisfy the vessel, quelling the fear and the pain and filling that void."

Dean could see where this was going, "And if the angel leaves?"

"Or is ripped out?" Lucifer said accusingly. "Hm, how did they say it? A book appeared in his hands. He flipped through the glimmering pages. "Ah, here it is. 'And the departed shall remain and the remains shall be the departed.'"

"So Sam has a little bit of angel, of you, in him?" Dean spit out the words like poison.

Lucifer struggled, and failed, to suppress a smirk. "Yes, some of my grace."

"You have grace?!" Dean exclaimed, suspicious.

"Of course, I'm an angel," Lucifer replied curtly, clearly insulted.

"But you fell."

"No, I was cast down. Grace and all. I am still an angel." Lucifer puffed out his chest proudly. Dean was silent, processing what he was hearing. "Don't you get it, Dean?" Lucifer's lush voice intruded. "Sam's not entirely insane. I'm not entirely in Hell."

"You're lying," Dean countered cautiously.

"No, Dean. I'm not lying. I don't need to." Lucifer was somber, all traces of pride and cruelty gone. "I never lied to Sam. He knew what he was agreeing to. The life of a vessel is sacrifice. Let me—"

Dean held up his hand and to his surprise Lucifer stopped talking. "Sam told me you said you felt sorry for him. I remember, in Carthage, you said you'd never hurt him, not really. These," and he swiveled his hand to include everything around them, "are hardly the actions of a sympathetic caretaker!"

"I once promised the world to him!" Lucifer was indignant and Dean scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "The first time I revealed myself to Sam, I told him I wanted to give him a gift, give him everything. I told him he could have anything he desired. You know what his response was?" Dean bobbed his head, his eyes saying 'what?!' "He goes and calls you, asks you for help. I offer him the world and he goes running back to you!" This clearly irritated Lucifer and that made Dean smile. "You have nothing to smile about, Dean. In fact, I think you might be worse than me."

"Yeah, right. Your sweet talk might work on Sam, but good luck with me."

Lucifer smirked. "I don't have to say a word. You do a fine job all on your own." Lucifer held Dean's eyes then blinked. Suddenly Dean was in the passenger seat of a car speeding along an empty highway in the dark. Dean heard a heavy sigh come from the driver and knew instantly it was Sam. The car swerved slightly as Sam dialed a number with one hand, barely paying attention to the pavement flowing beneath him.

"Eyes on the road, Sam!" Dean chided, his protective instincts kicking in.

Lucifer stuck his head forward between the seats. "He can't hear you, moron. We're in his memory." He sat back. "Get comfy. This is a good one." He stretched out in the backseat and folded his arms behind his head.

The phone rang four times and Sam almost hung up before Dean heard his own gruff voice on the other end. "Dammit, Cas, I need to sleep!" Oh no. Dean remembered this. The night he told Sam they were better off apart. A small part of Dean had always wondered what Sam had done after this conversation. He had the feeling he was going to find out.

Sam frowned. "Dean, it's me."

"Sam? It's quarter past four."

"This is important." Sam was solemn.

"Okay, I'm listening." It was obvious he'd rather not.

"Well, uh," Sam hesitated. "I've been having these dreams about Jess—"

"That's not news, Sam."

"Let me talk. I've been having dreams of Jess, where she shows up and talks to me. At least I thought it was Jess. But, I, uh, it turns out it was Lucifer."

"Also not so weird. You did just let the bastard out. Probably gonna have some nightmares about it." Sam did not miss the accusatory sarcasm. He pressed on.

"No, Dean. It's actually Lucifer. I can tell. He can't find me because of the angel warding Cas gave us, but somehow he can get into my dreams. He told me—" Sam halted, unable to speak the words and make it real.

"What, what did he tell you?" The impatience in Dean's voice grated against his own ears.

Also noticing it, Sam hardened his face and continued. "He told me that I'm his vessel, his true vessel. He has a temporary one now, but it won't hold him for much longer. He's still an angel and he needs my consent. As long as he can't find me, he can't make me say 'yes'."

The clinking rattle of bottles was audible. "So, you're his vessel, huh? Lucifer's wearing you to the prom?" Sam's face wrinkled in disgust. He hated when Dean used that phrase, especially now applied to him. Current Dean felt guilty.

"That's what he said." Sam frowned as he heard the bottle cap flipping off the beer.

"Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh, Sammy?"

"So, that's it? That's your response?" Confusion was evident in his voice and on his face. Sam was clearly hurt by Dean's apathy.

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know. A—a little panic, maybe?" Sam struggled to contain his own.

"I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point." God, I'm a dick, Dean thought.

"What are we gonna do about it?"

"What do you want to do about it?"

"I want back in, for starters."

"Sam—"

"I mean it. I am sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches. I'm gonna hunt him down, Dean." His jaw clenched with determination.

"Oh, so, we're back to revenge, then, are we? Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time."

"Not revenge. Redemption."

"So, what, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?"

"Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I'm gonna prove it to you." The earnestness in his voice was heart-breaking. Hope drained from his face as silence returned his proclamation.

"Look, Sam, it doesn't matter, whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good."

"Dean, it does not have to be like this. We can fight it." He was almost begging.

"Yeah, you're right. We can. But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us, love, family, whatever it is, they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing if we just go our own ways." Dean wished he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.

"Dean, don't do this." Even in the low light, Dean could see that his eyes were wet.

"Bye, Sam." The line went dead. Overcoming his shock, Sam threw the phone in the passenger seat and put his foot down on the accelerator. Tears blurred his vision as he sped down the empty road.

"Sam…" Dean whispered, reaching out for his hurting brother. Lucifer watched intently.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, pounding on the steering wheel. "I can't, I can't do this without you…" He slammed on the brakes. The car grumbled but acquiesced. He picked up the phone and scrolled to Bobby's number. He stared at it, his finger hovering over the button. He snapped it shut and let it slide out of his hand. He gripped the steering wheel and let out a primal yell. Abruptly, he stopped and collected himself. He pulled down the visor mirror and stared at his tired face. He breathed in and out deeply. "I'm sorry, Dean. But I can't do this alone. And I will never say 'yes' to Lucifer." He slung his body over to his bag on the floor of the passenger seat and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.

"Sam, what are you doing?!" Dean uttered in fear. "Don't you dare do this!"

"Let's see if you're lying, Lucifer. Come and get me, you son of a bitch!" Sam yelled and put the muzzle against his chin as he tilted his head back. Dean tried to stop him but he just passed through Sam. "See you on the other side, Dean," he murmured as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger.

Blood and brain tissue spattered Dean and he recoiled. The gun fell with a sharp clang as Dean wiped his brother from his face. A similarly decorated Lucifer spit out a tooth and looked at Dean expectantly. Dean wasn't aware of anything but Sam's obliterated head in front of him. "Sammy, no!" Dean wailed repeatedly, throwing himself on Sam.

"You killed him, Dean," Lucifer said quietly. "Your rejection killed him. Might as well have pulled the trigger yourself."

"God, Sammy, I'm sorry." Sudden warmth rose beneath him and Dean moved away from Sam. Bright light enveloped his brother's corpse and the unnerving angelic whine filled the car. Dean shielded his eyes and then heard Sam gasp.

"Fuck, he wasn't lying!" Sam exclaimed. The light faded and Dean watched as Sam pulled out a knife and quickly slashed his arm. He painted the angel banishing sigil on his window and waited. The angel whine squealed again and Sam slammed his hand against the symbol so hard the glass shattered. His arm went through the window and a residual piece of glass lodged itself deep in his tricep. Jerking his arm up in surprise, the wound opened up. Blood poured from the gash. Sam groaned with resignation and allowed himself to bleed out. Dean watched in horror as it pooled in his lap. Sam's free hand played with it absently, his fingers slowing as consciousness left him. Eventually they stopped and again the light filled the car. The blood had disappeared so Sam cut himself again, redrew the sigil on the windshield, and gingerly pressed his palm into it when Lucifer tried to appear. He sighed with relief.

"That got annoying so quickly," Lucifer complained. Dean jumped at the sound of his voice, forgetting in his grief that he was not alone. Sam put the car in drive and proceeded calmly down the road. Dean looked at Lucifer and saw nothing but compassion in his eyes. Whether it was for Sam or himself he was unsure. Lucifer blinked and they were back in their original room, Sam still unconscious. Lucifer let out a sad sigh. "He tried so hard to get away from me, to deny me, but it never worked. I told him, I would always just bring him back."

"How many more times did he try!?" Dean squeaked out. His world was spinning so fast he could barely keep up. "It was only a few hours between those phone calls!"

"Oh, a dozen or so, give or take. He was very efficient. Took him a while to figure out nothing he did would stop me. Silver knife to the heart, a car crash, hanging in a church, torched himself with holy oil...that one was tricky. Had to wait til the damn fire burnt itself out. Was barely anything left." Dean's mouth hung open, shock paralyzing every cell. "What, he didn't tell you?" He scoffed. "Sam has always been so forthcoming with you." Lucifer stifled a chuckle.

"Why... why didn't you tell me?" he asked Sam's unresponsive shape.

"He tried to, Dean. You didn't want to listen!" Lucifer almost sounded angry, like a father disappointed with a disobedient son. Dean knew that tone anywhere. "So is it any surprise he turned to me, trusted himself to defeat me alone rather than depend on you for help? You abandoned him, Dean. Fed your little brother to the devil. Hey, with me, you shoulda read the label first. Nothing but pain for Sam no matter how this turned out. He didn't want it any other way. But you? You, Dean, you pushed him here. You are responsible for Sam's suffering."

The anguish threatened to swallow Dean whole. He fell to his knees beside Sam and held his face in his hands. The touch woke Sam from his slumber. "D'n?" he asked softly.

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm sorry I ever left you," Dean blurted out.

Lucifer lifted his legs from his footrest. "If you were really sorry, you'd stop doing it. But you'll always leave Sam. You never loved him. Not like I love him. In the end, you'll abandon Sam like his mother and father and all he'll be left with is me." Lucifer's voice was an odd mixture of accusatory and protective. The dissonance extracted Dean from the situation enough for him to remember where he was. This was all in Sam's head. Perhaps he could take command and guide the course of Sam's dream.

Dean allowed his righteous anger to bubble up as he rose. "You are one to fucking talk. You make a big show of pretending to care about protecting Sam but the one he needs protection from is you." He jabbed a finger towards the devil. "You think you can play with him like a—"

"He is mine," Lucifer interjected quietly.

"No, he's not. You only want him to be. You're a selfish, greedy bastard. Always have been, wanted God all to yourself."

"Don't you talk about my Father," Lucifer hissed.

Dean forced out an amused chuckle. "Still got a soft spot for the man upstairs." Lucifer bristled and Dean thought he looked like a caged animal. Dean smirked. "My brother was right about you. A spoiled, whiny child in need of a serious beatdown. God probably thought you weren't worth the effort. Easier to put you in time-out."

Lucifer seethed but maintained his composure. "You humans wouldn't understand."

"Uh-huh," Dean answered knowingly, appreciating the rise he was getting out of the devil.

"You are small minded and insignificant. You have no concept of the grandeur of Creation, the complexities of the universe, the inner workings of all that my Father has made."

"Maybe not but that's hardly what this is about. This is about you being mad that you're not Daddy's favorite anymore. And why Sam has to suffer for that is beyond me."

"Sam denied me my destiny. Upset the natural order. Even Death wants to punish you two for that. But the real reason?" Lucifer leaned towards him and smiled, and Dean realized he had unwittingly relinquished control on the conversation by invoking Sam. "I have to keep Sam vulnerable and open, ready for when I spring out of that box. He's said 'yes' once; it's only a matter of time before that emptiness eats him up. He will let me in again."

The certainty with which Lucifer spoke spawned icy tendrils of fear that curled around Dean's heart. He filled his voice will false bravado. "Yeah, like that's ever going to happen."

Lucifer nodded slowly. "It will. And so much sooner than you think. Sammy will come to me. Begging for my help. I can feel it. Just like when I knew Sam would say 'yes' in Detroit."

"You can't possibly know that." Dean tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. The deprecating smile Lucifer returned told him he had failed.

"The way you Winchesters stick your noses into things, you'll be wishing for the good ol' Apocalypse. I mean, you've already released the Leviathan. Guess you lot miss the weight of the world ending because of your folly. Someday you're gonna get yourself in such a mess you'll require an archangel's help. God's MIA, Gabriel and Raphael are dead, Michael's not really in fighting shape… And the way you two burn through allies, hell, all you're gonna have left to turn to are enemies. Thus you'll need me. And I'll need Sam. So Dean, take care of my vessel for me, will you?" Dean didn't know how to respond. Obviously he would always take care of Sam so he couldn't say no, but he also didn't want to agree to anything the devil was asking of him. Instead he said nothing. Lucifer took this to mean acceptance. "Good man," Lucifer praised as he put a hand on Dean's shoulder. Extreme cold radiated from his fingertips. "See you in a few years, Dean."

Dean woke with a violent start. "Sam?" He called out, reaching for his brother as his eyes strained against the darkness. "You awake?" Silence, a moan, and then a gut wrenching scream answered his query. Dean flung himself out of bed, ignoring the pain from his leg, and turned on the light. Sam was clutching his stomach, agony painting his features. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and shook him. "Sam, wake up. Sammy! Snap out of it!"

Sam brought his arms up to shield his face. "Dean," he gasped.

"I'm right here, Sammy."

"Stop, get away," he cried as he pushed against him. "Don't hurt me anymore, please, I'll do whatever you want."

"You don't need to fight me!" He grabbed Sam's flailing wrists and held him tight. Dean could feel his racing pulse.

"This isn't you, Dean. You can stop this, please!" Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. The slight pause gave Sam the opportunity to escape. Dean recaptured him and pinned his wrists to the bed. Sam mewed pitifully then his body arched in pain. "Dean!" He was begging now, desperation cracking his voice. "You're... you're not in Hell. You don't need to do this." Rage flushed through Dean as he realized what was happening.

"Oh you angelic bastard!" Dean growled. He shook Sam harder but this only drew a gasping whimper from Sam. Sam began to wheeze and claw at his chest and Dean could only imagine which technique the dream him was applying to his little brother. He slapped Sam hard on the cheek.

Sam's eyes snapped open and his fear deepened as he beheld his torturer immediately in front of him. He scrambled away and fell off the bed, his head clunking unceremoniously on the floor. He pushed himself into the corner of the room, hiding behind the woodstove, arms outstretched in a pathetic attempt to keep Dean away. Dean slowly approached him, trying to appear non-threatening but not totally sure how that would look. Sam pulled his body into himself and clasped his hands over his head. Dean crouched before him. He braced for Dean's attack and was confused when Dean didn't move. He brought a hand down and stared at Dean fearfully. "Do... do you really hate me that much?" Sam whispered. Dean's heart wanted to burst as he struggled for words. He reached for Sam and his brother flinched so hard Dean thought he would dislocate something.

"Sam, no, that wasn't me, that was Lucifer."

Sam shook his head. "Don't lie to me. He was there, I saw him. Didn't even need to make you, you... you wanted to..." His tone changed abruptly. "I'm sorry Dean. I wish you'd let me die in that fire. Everything would be okay then."

"No, Sammy, I wouldn't give that up, I wouldn't give you up for the world."

"Don't lie. Lucifer says you shouldn't lie. He doesn't lie..." He trailed off, shaking.

"Sam, it's fucking Satan, of course he lies. It wasn't me. The last thing I remember is Lucifer and me arguing. You seemed to wake up but I don't know if you were with us. I pulled a you, called him a spoiled, whiny child. God, he did not like that!" Dean smiled genuinely.

"No, you're lying, you're just trying to trick me. Make me trust you before you tear me apart again." Sam's fear was supplanted with disdain and defiance.

It took Dean everything he had not to scream. This felt impossible. Just when he had his brother back on solid ground, the tsunami of Lucifer swept him away again. How long before he was washed out to sea? Dean forced himself not to think about it. "What do I need to do to prove to you I am actually your flesh and blood brother?"

"Kill me." The answer was so immediate it caught Dean off-guard.

"What?! No!"

"The real Dean would put me out of my misery. He'd have mercy on me. You, you will keep me alive forever so you can play with me whenever strikes your fancy." His voice was edged with accusatory anger. "Even Lucifer has the generosity to kill me, give me those sweet few milliseconds of nothingness as a reward. You're worse than him!" Sam mustered his strength and spit at Dean.

"Really, Sam?" Dean wiped the saliva from his face and stared at the fragile form in front of him. He was at a loss. He threw his head back in exasperation and groaned. A shadow in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he had to do a double take.

"Hello, Dean," Lucifer purred with a little wave, savoring Dean's physical and mental recoil. "Didn't expect to see me here, huh?"

"You-you can't be here," Dean replied incredulously. Unless... No, that's not possible. I can't catch Sam's hallucinations...

"Unless what? C'mon, I know you're thinking it," Lucifer prompted, approaching him.

"That's not how dream root works," Dean stated. "You don't bring things back from the person you dream walked."

"Since when did you become such an expert? That one time you used it on Bobby? Right." Lucifer scoffed. "Anyway, Sam hardly has a normal brain. He's splitting the rent with an archangel, so the normal rules don't exactly apply." Lucifer's face crinkled in contempt for Dean's failure to understand. "Think of me like a mold. You go in, get a few spores on you, and wham! Before you know it, I'm inside you, creeping around your foundation, eating away at you." A sense of dread and helplessness settled on Dean.

"Dean, did you really think you ever had any power here? I'm an archangel, you're a human. You can't stop any of this. All these years, all these tragedies, they've been planned. All to bring upon the Earth the Apocalypse that Dad so clearly wanted. Your mom dying, Sam dying, you going to Hell, the angels could have stopped all of this. Castiel knew it all but allowed it. You're just pawns, don't you get it? Just tools to be used to reach an end. Until that's achieved, your misery will be incomplete. And now I've got both of you!" he exclaimed gleefully.

"And no, I won't leave Sam alone, either. Oh the joys of multitasking!" Lucifer snapped his fingers and barbed wire restrained both men. "Now, Dean. I'll give you a one-time offer. Work some of your magic on Sammy for my viewing pleasure and I'll free you both for the evening." He looked to Sam, who was regarding them with equal terror. "Dean was right, it was me earlier. But I think Dean could show me a few things." The demon blade materialized in his hands and he held it out towards Dean.

"No, I won't hurt Sam." Dean was resolute.

"You won't actually be hurting him. It will just feel like it," Lucifer offered. "Like I said, gotta keep that fine packaging pristine for you-know-what," he said such that only Dean could hear. "A generous offer, if I say so myself, which I do." Dean remained silent. "No? Such a shame. Because I know for a fact Sam wouldn't return the favor. Right Sammy?"

They both looked to Sam, who had already risen. He stared intently at Dean as his eyes turned black. Concentrating, he lifted his arm. Dean felt tightness closing around him. Sam's grunts of effort were punctuated by Lucifer's rippling laugh. Dean couldn't make a sound as all the air was squeezed from his body. He felt his internal organs collapsing and his bones crunching. He took one last look at Sam, realized the betrayal hurt more than the physical pain, and then imploded.

Darkness loomed all around Dean. "This isn't how I remember Heaven," Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Is that... are those... snores? Dean willed his eyes to adjust. Faint moonlight illuminated the familiar surroundings of the cabin. Dean looked about in confusion; was he actually back in the cabin or was it another of Lucifer's tricks? With that thought came a profound understanding of Sam's situation. It was damn near impossible to decipher reality from hallucination at any given moment. He located his feet and propelled himself off the bed to Sam. He appeared to be contently sleeping. Dean found Sam's left hand and felt the rough torn tissue against his smooth fingers. Frowning, he gave the hand a crushing squeeze. He knew he should let Sam sleep but he needed to know what was real; he needed Sam.

Sam's other hand came to the rescue even before he opened his eyes. Dean flicked on the bedside lamp. Bewildered, Sam pushed himself back against the wall and stared at his hand. "Do you see him?" Dean demanded, inwardly wincing at the gruffness of voice.

Sam looked around the cabin before refocusing on Dean. "Uh, no. I probably won't after that!" He shook his hand, glaring at Dean.

"Sorry man, I had to know."

"Know what?" Sam was perplexed and Dean felt annoyed that he even had to explain.

"Had to know that this was real." He looked back shyly to Sam, only to find his expression full of sympathy. "God, Sam... how..." he trailed off, at a loss for words.

"How do I deal with it?" Sam supplied, his lips curling in a wistful smile. "I don't know. Sometimes I can't." Dean wanted to wrap his brother in a tight embrace but the memory of Lucifer caressing his brother kept him from nearing Sam. Personal space meant something a hell of a lot different now. Despite his best attempts to block them out, the memories came flooding in and it was all Dean could manage to hobble over and fling himself at the toilet in time. Sam followed wordlessly, leaning on the door frame as Dean wretched violently. The burning pain was a welcome respite from thinking about everything he had just experienced. Sam waited patiently as Dean choked on his sobs and bile. After a few minutes, Dean rose and splashed cold water over his face but found this reminded him of Lucifer's touch. He turned the knob to steaming hot and buried his face in the painful stream. Sam watched silently and offered a towel when Dean was finished.

Dean avoided Sam's eyes, his voice wavering like a leaf in a hurricane. "Sam, I, uh, thank you for—you," his voice cracked, "—you didn't have to—you shouldn't have—you didn't have to offer yourself up like that. I—" His throat closed before he could finish his thought.

Sam interrupted him, his voice surprisingly clear and bright. "It was only right, Dean. I would never wish that on my worst enemy, and especially not you. You would have fought so hard and that only makes him angrier and more... creative in his violence." Dean clenched his eyes shut. You sound like an abused spouse. "In the beginning, I fought until I died. Generally he got frustrated and just ganked me. Then he deprived me of any contact for days, weeks. Jess would come, offering her touch... It was such sweet relief… but of course it would be him. Took me a time or two before I caught on." The regret in Sam's voice turned sour and an indescribable emotion filled his face. "When that got old, he turned me into Jess and he would be me. And…" he closed his eyes and bit his lip, clearly trying to chase away memories. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "Whatever. The point is that I didn't want you to go through that. What's one more time for me? I'm pretty much used to it."

Dean's mind couldn't turn over faster enough to process what he was hearing. Satan made Sam a woman, a woman he loved, and raped him as himself. Just when Dean thought he couldn't hate Lucifer more, Sam revealed some new depth of depravity. How can you be used to it? I heard your screams… I'll never forget them… That's not used to it! He buried his head in his hands and tried to keep the tears in but it was futile. He started to shake as the misery consumed him. Sam sat down next to him on the cool tile and he felt the warmth of Sam's arm stretching around his shoulder. Dean inhaled deeply and attempted to stop the shudder as he exhaled. When he failed, Sam pulled him in and hugged him. "God, Sammy. I should be hugging you." He more felt than heard Sam's low chuckle. Dean pulled out of the embrace and looked at his brother with a sense of wonder and disbelief as the tears dried up. "How are you even vertical? How are you not locked up in a psych ward somewhere?"

The corners of Sam's mouth turned up but it wasn't a full-blown smile. "I don't know, Dean. I mean, I did a lot of bad stuff, I'm responsible for who knows how many deaths. And while my suffering can't change that, I feel it somehow balances out. I was in Hell six times longer than I've even been alive. That has to mean something."

"But... I mean, the stuff now. You're practically being stalked by Lucifer."

"The memory of Lucifer," Sam corrected.

Dean considered whether to share what Lucifer had told him. He decided against it but his awkward pause had drawn an interested look from Sam. He was too exhausted to lie. "What if it's not just his memory?"

"As in, it's actually Lucifer here torturing me?" Sam looked dubious.

"Well, that's, uh, that's what he told me."

"What, did he say that he's a part of me, that some of his grace is in me? That's he's keeping the connection going for when he comes back?" Dean nodded his head silently. He was surprised by Sam's candid response, though he wasn't sure why he was shocked. Lucifer had said he'd tried to talk to Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, old dog, old tricks. Trust me, I would know it if I still had that bastard's grace inside of me!" Sam's voice was ferocious but his face was mostly calm.

"How... how did it feel?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "When I said 'yes'?" His voice was tight. Dean did not reply but Sam knew he was curious. Dean had never asked much about Lucifer's possession. Sam figured Dean still hadn't quite come to terms with it. He let out a little laugh. How could simple words ever be enough to explain what had happened? "At first it felt like my body was breaking into a million little pieces and then those pieces were thrown into the sun and then the ash was dumped into a vat of acid which was ejected out into the freezing nothingness of space." Dean grimaced. "And then he touched my mind."

Sam paused, as if for dramatic effect. "There was a moment of... I can't explain it. Being dead while being alive? I don't know. Then the grace hit me. Like a firestorm, he came on so strong, sweeping out any resistance. Crushing my existence. It was crippling. That's probably when I passed out. But once I was over the initial shock of it, his grace was cool and comfortable. Oddly soothing." His voice softened. "I hate to admit it, but I felt one, like I belonged." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "For the first time in my life, I felt whole, with the fucking devil possessing me. I felt a sense of peace I've never known before."

He laughed at himself. "I hated myself for it. Lucifer knew it too, used it against me. He knew everything. He crammed himself into every crevice of my being, like he was running out of space. I felt him invading every cell, every thought, every memory. Nothing was mine anymore. And what was his became mine. All his hate and feelings of betrayal. Billions of years of pent up emotions. I was drowning every moment he was inside me, trying to hang on to any scrap of myself. Anything to not be completely obliterated by Lucifer's presence. We were the eye of this world-ending hurricane and all I could do was watch as his power swept out of me and destroyed everything in its wake. Goddam miracle I was able to wrestle back control for a few minutes."

Dean took a moment to process everything he had just heard. "And when you jumped in the cage?"

"His grace was ripped out. Don't know if it's some property of the cage or what. Adam's soul got booted and sent to heaven, at least I think that's what I saw. Since I was still alive, Lucifer got kicked out of his vessel."

"Now that you're out?"

Sam chuckled darkly to himself. "I'm not sure I'd know where to find his fucking grace in the gaping hole left behind." Fear washed over Dean's face. Isn't that what Lucifer had said? That there was a hole in the vessel that could only be filled by the angel? "No Dean, not a hole from Lucifer or whatever bullshit he spewed in your ear. Just a hole from having your life torn from you millions of times." His voice was turning angry.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Please tell me I'm not still in some fucked-up dream. Don't be Lucifer, dammit.

"Because I know Lucifer. Probably better than God himself." Sam's voice was thick with bitter sarcasm. Sam smirked. "He made such a big deal about time. How much time he spent with me. That he had been with me far longer than you had. As if that counted for something. But I got to know him as well as he knew me. If that bastard ever comes back, I will never say 'yes' again no matter what happens." The resolution in his voice eased some of the tightness in Dean's chest. Suddenly he heard Lucifer's voice, explaining how Sam would be begging for his help soon and he forced his mind to change the subject.

"Yeah, Sammy, that's another thing…"

"What?" Sam snapped, defensive. He caught Dean's compassionate look. "Sorry, man."

"No, Sam, it's fine. It's just... why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you…" he sighed. "That you killed yourself." There, I said it.

"When, after I found out I was Lucifer's vessel?" Dean nodded. Wait, was there another time you killed yourself?! Sam scoffed incredulously. "What else was I supposed to do, Dean? If you remember, you wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't exactly Bobby's favorite person at that point. Not like I was gonna let Lucifer just have me."

Guilt surged over Dean. "So your answer was to kill yourself? Repeatedly?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond then shut it. He eyed Dean carefully. "How do you even know about that?"

"He showed me. Took me inside your memory of that fucking night. I'm so sorry, Sam. I was such a dick. I should never have said those things to you. I didn't realize how much you needed me. It didn't cross my mind that you would do that. I was just so tired of it all. It's no excuse though," he ended lamely.

Sam was somewhat astonished by Dean's candid admission but shrugged despondently. "Didn't matter anyway. He just brought me back. Like he said he would. But I had to test it. I tried everything I could think of." Sam seemed disappointed he had failed to die.

"Did you really set yourself on fire?"

Sam laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. That was my last attempt. Took a bath in holy oil, even drank some. Stood in one of those little inflatable kiddie pools filled with gasoline. That really should have worked. Would have been a fitting way to go, don't you think? Mom, Jess, me..." The image of Sam inflating a kiddie pool was almost funny to Dean if it hadn't been so damn tragic. "I got an earful from Lucifer on that one." Sam almost giggled. "Man, was he pissed!"

Dean smiled at the thought of Lucifer frustrated by his little brother. But it didn't overcome the sorrow threatening to drown him. "Hey, don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. I don't care how bad things get, if I'm dead or missing or I say I hate you-whatever. You need to always keep fighting, no matter what. 'Cause I swear to God, if you kill yourself, I'm gonna be right behind you to kick your ass."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Had you said that…"

Dean clenched his eyes shut. "I know, Sam, I know. I let you down and for that I am truly sorry. I should have been there for you. At least not hung up the phone." The desperation in Sam's voice as he begged 'Dean, don't do this' clawed at his heart.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder. "Dean, considering all the times I've let you down, I think we can just call it even."

Dean let out a sad chuckle. "I don't get you, man."

"Yeah, well, join the club," Sam replied. "Here." He held out a hand to help Dean up. Dean grasped his brother's hand and was heartened by the youthful strength Sam displayed. Nothing at all like the way he was in his dreams. He knew now he had underestimated both Lucifer's depravity and Sam's resilience.

He gripped Sam's shoulders tight and looked into his eyes. They were solemn but somehow still hopeful. "Sam. I don't know whether to thank you or hate you for that experience, but, I think I get what you mean. And I understand now, I understand that reality isn't so simple. Whatever I can do to help."

Sam smiled, his appreciation for his brother softening some of the exhaustion lines on his face. "For the most part, it's okay when I'm awake. I can fend him off. Sleeping is still hard. I'm so... defenseless in my own mind. Because for a little bit, it wasn't just me in my head. Not sure that's something you ever get over. Most of the other archangel's vessels are in comas when they leave. I think you could say I came out of it pretty well!"

"I can't let you go through that every night," Dean announced resolutely.

Sam shrugged. "It's a drop in the ocean. Not like he can do much to me that he hasn't already done."

"That's not the point. Do you—do you even remember the sleep you just had?"

Sam went a little limp. "Sort of." He looked up anxiously at Dean. "It all sort of blurs together," he said quietly. "I remember attacking you, knowing that it was actually you this time, that you were in my head, and being powerless to stop it. I know Lucifer, uh…" His Adam's apple danced awkwardly as he glanced at Dean and saw that he understood. Neither wanted to hear the words out loud. "Then you were torturing me and—"

"That was Lucifer, not me," Dean interjected.

"Good to know, I guess," Sam responded, seemingly indifferent as to whether it was really Dean or not. Dean frowned. He thought it would reassure Sam but clearly his little brother was beyond caring.

"And I remember killing you only to wake up and still be tortured by you. Then you pressed my hand and that woke me up." It bothered Dean that all the other physical torture inflicted by Lucifer didn't even garner a mention. He wondered if Sam could remember what it was to not feel pain.

Dean bit his lip. Everything about this sucked. "Sam, you begged me to kill you in your dream. Several times."

Sam lifted his shoulders weakly, unaffected. The need for sleep was clawing at his consciousness. "Probably just force of habit. Death was the only release I would get before Lucifer would resurrect me." Sam neglected to mention the moments of oneness he would feel when Lucifer let him into his celestial consciousness. That was too mortifying to share with anyone.

"How fucked-up are our lives that death is a good thing?" Dean asked sadly, shaking his head.

Sam's tired face displayed an impish smile. "I don't know, you and capital-d Death seem to get along pretty well."

Dean had to laugh at that. "What can I say? I've just got a winning personality."

Sam nodded in agreement and looked like he was about to make a witty retort but was interrupted by an aggressive yawn. His body was teetering on the edge of sheer exhaustion and the adrenaline was wearing off. He blinked firmly to focus his energy but it was pointless. His body was surrendering to sleep whether his mind wanted to or not. Lucifer had left him alone since he woke up and he wanted to take advantage of the respite while it lasted. He made his way to the bed, Dean's pleas barely registering.

"Hey, we're not done here! We gotta fix this, figure something out."

Sam waved a hand in Dean's general direction, dismissing his concern. "We'll deal with it later. Too tired…" he mumbled as he collapsed into the pillow. He felt a cool weight next to him and he didn't care, except to quietly say "Fuck off, Lucifer," before passing out.

Dean ambled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, preparing to grab a beer. He stopped himself mid-motion, deciding he needed something stronger. Much stronger. The only way to survive the despair infiltrating his soul was to drink himself into oblivion. He raised the bottle of bourbon and made a toast to his dad before downing a long swig of the burning liquid. Images of Sam's suffering bubbled up and he struggled against his mind to suppress them. It was too much for any one person to bear. Dean sank into the couch and let his head fall back.

How could Sam even function? No wonder he didn't like to sleep. Dean couldn't blame him. But he needed to. He had to get Sam to sleep consistently, no matter what they had to do. That might mean pushing it down and letting it come out in spurts of violence and alcoholism, but that was better than the current strategy of nothing. With renewed vigor, he vowed to ask Bobby and any other hunter he knew about ways to improve Sam's ability to sleep. Even if Dean had to dream walk Sam every night and find ways to fight off Lucifer, he would do it. Sam didn't deserve any of this. Hadn't he already suffered enough? Dean sighed and took another gulp of the amber anesthetic, finishing what he had poured. He decided it was best to succumb to the Winchester way. He cut out the middle man and discarded the glass for the bottle. He pondered whether his heart would give out before his liver, which was really saying something. But that was a concern for a new day. Right now, he just had to survive this agony.

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