BIG TWIST BIG TWIST LA LA LA LA LA LAAA

Im so evil.

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Chapter 7 - Dear Diary, Tell Me Your Lies.

Sam.

"GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!"

Sam shot bolt upright in his blankets, breathing heavily. Dean stirred in his sleep, cracking his eyes open, and looked over at him in concern.

"You okay, kid?" he slurred in his sleep-deprived state.

"Yeah," Sam breathed heavily. "Peachy," he said with a forced smile. Dean was too tired to argue, and simply turned over and went back to sleep.

There was a moment of silence.

"So," sang Lucifer in his silky, venomous tone, "you'll lie to him unprompted, but won't kill him. Even when I've been asking you to for weeks."

Sam scowled at him and stood up, walking swiftly away from Cas and Dean.

"Come on Buddy! Don't ignore me! I'm your friend!" called out the sickly-pale man. Sam winced, forgetting for a moment that Luci's shouting wouldn't wake up the two men.

"Shut up!" Sam snarled in a whisper, "You're not my friend! Not even the real Luci was! He was just some messed up kid who lived beside me! And you are just a hallucination made by the disease!"

Lucifer laughed, "You just keep telling yourself that, Sammy."

Sam shot him a venomous look. "Only Dean gets to call me that."

The man put a hand on his heart in mock hurt. "Just because I'm not real doesn't mean we don't have a real connection!" he simpered in a false tone, a childish frown on his face.

"I won't do it," vowed Sam, more to himself than to Lucifer. "I won't hurt the only family I have left, and I certainly won't kill them." Sam drew himself up, looking straight into Luci's eyes. "No matter what the disease throws at me." He stalked off back to his makeshift bed.

"Ah, but even if you won't do it, you want to!" the man hollered after him. "You're hungry, Sam, I can feel it."

Sam covered his ears with his hands and groaned quietly.

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A few hours later, when the other two men awoke to find Sammy sitting with is arms wrapped around his knees, his blood shot eyes staring into nothing, Dean immediately jumped to the conclusion that it had been a nightmare. Sam played along, because what else could he do? After Dean was sure that he was okay, the trio set out along their path to a nearby, abandoned town.

Sammy walked a little behind the other two, their laughter and jovial conversation floating back to him on the spring breeze. Yet it was drowned out by the constant prattling of his favourite 'imaginary friend', as Lucifer had dubbed himself. Sam had once had an imaginary friend, as a child. This was not it.

"So, Sammy boy, are you going to say yes to me? That's all you have to do, just say yes and kill them and all the pain will go away," soothed the man. Sam gritted his teeth and pulled his rucksack tight against his back, trying to recite something from the Spanish club he took as a kid in his head, in order to distract himself.

'Hola, mi nombre es Sam Campbell. He estado estudiando español durante dos añ-' his train of thought was interrupted yet again.

"You must have realised that the diseased don't look like they're in pain. Sure they're angry, but so are you. Have been for as long as you can remember! It'll still be anger, just no pain!" stated Luci gleefully, making a sweeping gesture with his hands like he had solved all of the world's problems.

'Hola, mi nombre es Sam Campbell. He estado estudiando esp-' started Sam again.

"Come on Sammy, talk to me! I'm bored!" Interrupted Luci petulantly. "Sam whirled on the patch of thin air where his adversary was standing. "Shut UP! Just shut the HELL UP!" He screamed. Cas and Dean stopped and turned to look at Sam, shock and concern on both of their faces.

Sam turned red. He couldn't tell them, they would run for the hills. So he lied, again.

"Sorry, headache." Cas gave an understanding nod and turned to continue walking. Dean stared at Sam a little, sizing him up, trying to figure out what was really wrong. Unable to figure it out, he walked on. The rest of the journey was silent, even when they reached the town and found an old apartment building to stay in for a few days.

They all just filed wordlessly into a room, and Sam sat down on the sofa. Dean walked over and sat beside him. The teen tried to shuffle away, but Dean caught his arm.

"I don't know what's up, but you're going to tell me soon." Sam made a noise of protest to try and deny it before Dean shushed him. "For now, though," he continued, unfazed, "you're going to sleep."

With that, he pulled Sam into a rough hug, before letting go and starting to talk in a soothing voice. "Did I ever tell you about the time I rode my bike up a tree? Well, into a tree, but it's still a good story. Basically, this stupid son of a bitch bet me 10 dollars I couldn't do it..."

Sam drifted of to the sound of Dean's voice. Only his.

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Castiel.

Day 3104.

Month 102.

Year 9.

The weather has thankfully warmed since last month, and another fit has yet to occur. This means that Dean is happy at least, and Sam isn't dead, which is also an upside. We seem to be moving south, and by my guesses, I would say that we're near a city. Venturing into suburbia as we did yesterday was a risk, but luckily it paid off - this area seems abandoned, and we have found our home for the next few days.

In a few weeks, if things continue as they have for the last three years, the rain will come. I suspect that Sam and Dean will be quite happy about this - they seem to find an upside to most things.

I'm fine. Dean and I are still on alert in case Sam has another fit, and their nightmares are far from healthy, but I can deal with them. Sam seems a little out of it - there was a minor incident yesterday - but he seems a little better now. I would rather me have to handle their problems than them handle mine - as I have virtually none compared to them. If this is what it's like to have family, then I quite like it.

The next entry will be written next month, given, once again, that I am here to write it.

Day 3104,

Castiel Robert W Novak.

Castiel closed the rough and tattered book, smoothing his hand over the cover and contemplating what he'd written. He looked up at the wall in front of him, the dust in the air spiralling in a soft cascade through the thin beam of light that was streaming from his right. Pushing himself back from the almost bare desk, his chair slid over the cracked tiles with a soft 'scree'.

Cas stood and walked solemnly to the window, his shoes scuffing out a rhythmic march as he crossed over the cold, broken floor. He leant against the grimy window, uncaring about the fragility or uncleanliness of the surface, and stared out at the shadowed wasteland below. The sun was setting, casting a long, dark silhouette of a once thriving town onto the ground.

The man sighed in resignation. This was his life, this was his world and this, he thought as he looked over at Sam and Dean, was his family. It wasn't perfect, but maybe that was what made it worth fighting for - or at least, made it what it was.

As he watched the two brothers - which they undoubtedly were by now - Dean eased a sleeping Sam off his shoulder and tucked a blanket round him on the sofa. Dean smiled at the boy and walked over to Cas, leaning against the wall to look out at the same desolate view that confronted Cas.

"I remember living up here with my dad for a couple of weeks," Dean said suddenly, and Castiel looked at him in surprise. "I was just a kid, but I remember it vividly. It was so vibrant, so full of life, so... normal. I guess it's still normal, just a different kind of normal. Today's normal." Dean's tone was thick with bitterness.

Cas looked at his expression, a tight frown around his lips, his forehead creased in deep thought. He didn't like seeing Dean like this - he deserved to be happy. Even in a time and place like this. He hadn't really talked much about his life before the disease broke out, but the little he had mentioned about his father hardly portrayed him as father of the year.

"I stayed a few hundred miles west once, on a family trip. Not the full family - just me and my two brothers and our aunt. It's still one of my happiest childhood memories. We spent the whole day eating junk food and staying up obscenely late." Cas chuckled fondly, then smiled broadly when he saw that Dean's eyes were sparkling with happiness and interest.

Cas continued enthusiastically, "My two brothers were the best. I was sort of a father figure to the younger one. I loved that kid so much, I wish he was with me now so that I could look out for him, but last I heard he out at Outpost 4."

Dean froze.

"I just want him to be safe and happy." Castiel's smile died a little. Outpost 4 and all of its inhabitants were most likely dead by now. However, he still smiled softly, thinking about the chubby kid that had followed him everywhere. It used to irritate him, but he'd give anything for him to do it again.

Dean spoke up, mind still whirring. "I had a kid like that, before Sam. What was your brother's name?"

"Samandriel," said Cas, squinting out of the murky window.

Dean's face went abruptly stark-white. Cas couldn't even hear his breathing. He looked over at the other man to check that he was OK and saw that he was as pale as a sheet. Cas shot out a hand and grabbed Dean's arm - he looked like he was going to collapse.

"Dean! What's wrong!?" asked Cas worriedly, his brow furrowed in concern. Dean whispered a single word, a name, a nickname that he hadn't heard in years. In a small, broken, shuddering voice, Dean said it.

"Alfie?"

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