Warnings: Angst and whumpage of the hell variety, including mild (more like implied) torture.

Interlude – Sam

"When God is gone and the devil takes hold, who'll have mercy on your soul?"
-Jen Titus, 'O, Death'

His memories are fuzzy, coming and going, like water rushing the beach shoreline. The pictures in his head come in flashes but he can't put them in order. He doesn't know if what he's seeing happened yesterday or ten years ago. He has no idea how long he's been here, if it's been an hour or a year.

What he does know for sure is that he's in agony, he wants his big brother, and he's in hell.

Hell is everything he expected but at the same time, it's so much more, so much worse. He didn't expect it to have levels. He thought that the pit was just the pit, but it has a system of steps, each one getting more macabre and painful as you get deeper. If hell was a hospital, with a parking lot, a waiting room, an examination room, and the surgery unit, Sam would guess that he's in the waiting room, trembling with nerves as he waits for examination.

It's an endless plane of nothing but thick metal ropes and hooks, all dark and bloody, suspended over a huge demon lightning storm. His arms are over his head, connected by a single hook piercing through both of his wrists, in one side and out the other. There are two more in each thigh, leaving all the weight of his torso to rest between the unbearable pain in his wrists and legs. The wind of the angry storm below him rocks his body, pulling on the hooks in his flesh, and grating against his bones. He grits his teeth tight enough to hurt, his pride unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream yet. Lightning hits the web of metal, sending a strong surge of electricity into his wounds, through his body. He grunts, his jaw clamps tighter, and he swears he hears something pop. The electric current is over in seconds even though it feels like it lasts forever. Tears sting his eyes as he tries to maneuver his jaw and even though it hurts, he manages to pry his mouth open.

Just as his jaw releases, the hooks extract themselves from Sam's limbs, sending burning shots of pain all through his body. He can't resist crying out against the feel of the metal relinquishing its grip on him. Suddenly he's falling straight through the lightning storm. There's no pain as much as there is fear as he tumbles through nothingness, waiting to hit the bottom and face whatever's next.

He does hit, eventually. He crashes into what feels like a floor made out of pumice and it's hot, like it's been sitting out in the sun on a summer day. The rough texture scrapes the top layer of skin off his palms and other random places on his body where flesh is visible. He shifts, preparing to stand, but before he can push himself up, hands grab his arms and yank him to his feet. Sam grunts in surprise and then again in pain as he's slammed onto a wooden table. Realization hits him and panic takes over as his arms and legs are pulled spread eagle and then restrained. He's on the rack, oh God, it's starting.

But he's not going to break. He's going to be strong like his dad was, like Dean was.

A hand reaches down to caress his face and he flinches away. The demon laughs at his reaction. It's dark enough to keep his tormentors veiled but light enough that Sam can see their outlines and the shadows of their face.

"Sammy Winchester. We've been itching to get our hands on you. Winchesters are famous down here, you know? Your daddy set the record. 100 years and he still said no. It's impressive, I'll admit. Your brother couldn't break it, though, he wasn't strong enough," the demon says and Sam can feel him lean in close, breath heating up his ear, "Are you, Sam?"

He barely hears the snick of the knife over the pounding of his own heart, but it's there all the same. The sound both threatens and challenges him.

Stay strong. Don't break, don't break, don't break.

He feels the first bite of the blade and he chews the inside of his cheek to keep silent. Liquid warmth slides down his bare chest and Sam swallows, wondering how Dean ever got the strength to keep saying no, and praying that he'll be able to do the same.

Make Dean proud.

The razor lifts and the demons quips, "I almost forgot. Since we're going to be spending so much time together, I see it only proper that you know my name. I'm Nix, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Nix ends his little speech with a sarcastic bow, right before he digs the blade in again.

It doesn't take long for Sam to break his own promise again, and screams.

"You can say "yes" here, Sam. You can say yes and it'll all be over. Just let him in."

His deal is different from everyone else's. With everyone else, "yes" will get the torturing to stop as long as you agree to start it. For Sam, saying "yes" will just start a different kind of torture, being Lucifer's vessel. Well, Sam can't do anything about being tortured in hell but he can do something about being a vessel.

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Sam doesn't know how long it's been; days, weeks, months? It all smudges together in a mess of pain and screaming, and always saying "no" in the end. Nix gets more creative with every passing session, tormenting and destroying Sam in ways he didn't even think were possible. It makes him think of Dean, of how foolish Sam was to ever think that his older brother was weak. He is more than ashamed knowing that he said it to Dean's face when he had no comprehension of just what hell was. Dean did this for 30 years before he caved. Sam wonders if he can last half as long.

He screams for Dean once, while Nix is carving him up like a turkey that needs to be stuffed. There has never been a time in his life when Sam yelled for his brother, and Dean didn't come. Once, just this once, Sam gets desperate enough to try to yell between the boundary of hell and earth to see if it will still work.

Nix cackles.

Dean doesn't come.

Time passes. Nix tells him it's been months, years, hours; his answer changes all the time, so Sam doesn't know. He just knows that time passes. They bring in a few of the souls that Dean tortured while he was here. They talk to him. They tell him all the horrible things that Dean did to them as if it'll make Sam love his brother less. All it does is make him miss his sibling more than ever, and reminds him of why he has to keep saying "no."

If Sam says yes then Dean will have to too. Sam would rather spend eternity in hell. He might even deserve to.

He doesn't know how it happens. God's wish? Highly unlikely. Castiel? Not enough power anymore. Dean? Sam will kill him if he sacrificed himself again. Sam doesn't know how it happens, but he gets yanked back to earth. He crashes to the surface so hard that air is stolen from his lungs just as it's being pushed back in. It's worth it though, to inhale pure oxygen that isn't tainted with sulfur and smoke. Next to him, behind him, he can feel a presence and knows without thinking that it's Dean. Warmth flows into his soul, comforting him for the first time in what feels like forever.

Dean. He's home.