Then
Naomi's attempts to manipulate Sam's wall go sideways. Sam's psyche shatters into pieces, including the part of Sam that remembers Hell, and the soulless version of himself. The part that remembers Hell, Hell Sam, manipulates and deceives Sam by pretending to be Jessica Moore. Formed from the pain of Hell, twisted and tormented into a monster, Hell Sam takes on the visage of Lucifer wearing Sam's face, a reflection of the horrors of Hell. Sam is tortured at Hell Sam's hands, until he is saved by Soulless Sam, who explains what is happening to them, before trying to get Sam to give up control to him, in order to defeat Raphael. Sam refuses, unwilling to let his soulless version wander around freely ever again.
Now
Notes:
Trigger Warning for Torture and SA/Non-Con* This chapter is not an explicit one, there isn't anything too graphic, however there mentions of both brutal torture and sexual assault. With regards to the SA, it is implied and referenced to Sam's experience last chapter, and occurs near the end of this chapter. It is also fairly easy to skim without missing any other crucial information, and serves as an outside perspective on the scene from last chapter. Please feel free to skim or skip the chapter if this is outside of your comfort zone.
Language Advisory* Big surprise, Dean swears in this.
(See the end of the chapter formore notes.)
Chapter Text
Three days. Three goddamn days have passed since the motel in Lebanon, since Raphael's attack on Cas' base, since Sam was flown off to God knows where, and they had nothing. Crowley had fucked off to Whocaresistan, which really didn't bother Dean except for the fact that at least when he had been here, they could have kept an eye on him, made sure Crowley wasn't sneaking around behind their backs or something. Bobby had buried himself in books and websites on witchcraft the second Cas had brought him back here, looking for every kind of tracking spell he can find, to give them the best chance of being able to find Sam, as well as different wardings and sigils to give them a better chance of getting past the angels Raphael has no doubt put on guard duty for Sammy. And as soon as Cas and Dean had pulled up to Bobby's house, having made the hours long drive from Lebanon to Sioux Falls, and parking Baby in her usual spot, Dean had gone to put the holy oil Cas borrowed back under Sam's bed while Cas had gone to help Bobby, offering his input and knowledge on how best to banish or weaken other angels. The three of them stayed almost exclusively in the library, leaving only for coffee, bathroom breaks and occasionally food. But they haven't found anything. Anything helpful, at least. All of the spells they have tried from Bobby's research have failed, which, according to Cas, isn't surprising. Apparently archangel cloaking power trumps witchcraft. And that is bad enough on its own, since it means they still have no idea where on Earth Sammy is. Throw into the mix that, out of the five days they had to stop Raphael, they are now down to two and haven't found anything to make them less screwed. But the most painful part of everything is that just a week ago, Dean would have given almost anything to have Cas here like this, working with them to find a solution to their latest Def-con One situation. He had missed Cas, had missed having the angel around, and being able to trust him. Last week, it had been killing him to have been pouring over these books, digging through the lore, knowing that he was working against his best friend. And now… here Cas is, present, and focused, and on their side again. Being honest with them, involving them in his efforts, trusting them again. And all it cost was Sammy. It hurts, because Dean knows out of the two, which scenario he would pick over and over again, without doubt or hesitation. It hurts because he doesn't want to have to go through either of them. Why is it so hard for him to keep his family together? Why can't Sam stop getting himself kidnapped? Dean slams the book he is currently attempting and failing to read shut, rubbing his tired eyes. He isn't angry with Sam, he really isn't. Sam has been a target for the supernatural since he was six months old, none of this is his fault. But Dean is angry for Sam. He is angry that all these supernatural freaks seem to think they have some kind of claim on Sammy, that they can take him and use him however they please. Even Cas crossed that line, though now that he knows why, Dean is slightly less pissed about Cas' actions. It still wasn't a great idea, but it was an understandable one. Suddenly, Dean hears footsteps approaching the couch he is sitting on and he feels something cold touch the back of his hands. Peering up tiredly from behind his eyes, Dean looks up to see Bobby standing over him, offering a beer.
"I take it you haven't found anything yet either." Bobby says gruffly, exhaustion lining his face. Dean takes the beer, raising it once in a silent thanks, before he opens the bottle and takes a long drink, shaking his head.
"Not a thing." Dean sighs, frustrated. He glances over at Cas, who is sitting in a spare chair near the doorway, his eyes on the spot next to Dean. Uncomfortably, Dean realizes that, four days ago, that had been where Cas had been standing, by the door, watching Sam who had been sitting right where Cas is now looking, before he and his angels had taken him. Shoving the bitter memory away, Dean clears his throat. "What about you Cas? You find anything?" Cas glances up, his eyes tightening.
"No. Not yet. Not exactly." Cas says slowly. Dean frowns at him, Bobby raising an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, not exactly?" Bobby asks.
"I was just thinking… but no, it is probably a bad idea…" Cas murmurs. Dean frowns at the angel. He is tired, he is worried, he hasn't slept more than four hours a night since Sammy was taken, he most desperately needs a shower and he has no patience left for this kind of mumbling, half-formed thoughts.
"Cas, spit it out." Dean snaps, slightly harsher than he really intended. "It's been days, man. Any idea is worth considering right now, good or bad." He adds in a slightly softer tone. He and Cas have just broken through their issues, he doesn't want to offend him or drive him away again. Being more open-minded is a step forward, right? Cas studies him for a moment, glancing briefly at Sam's empty seat, before sighing and standing up.
"Well, I was thinking… if we can't find Sam, we might be able to ask him where he is." Cas says. Dean exchanges a look with Bobby, who looks as confused as he feels.
"Uh, slight flaw with that plan buddy. Don't we need to, you know… find Sam to ask him anything?" Dean asks hesitantly.
"Not necessarily." Cas answers. "If Sam is dreaming, I can enter his unconscious mind, find him and talk to him. Maybe he has figured out something that can help us find him." Bobby starts to look excited, but all Dean can feel is irritation.
"Why didn't you bring this up earlier?" Dean demands. "We've been sitting here, twirling our thumbs uselessly for days now, when we could have been talking to Sam."
"I considered it, but Dean… it would be dangerous." Cas says patiently. "Angels can sense each other's presence. Raphael may be expecting me to try something like this. If Sam has a few angelic guards, I might be able to disguise myself… the more of us there are, the harder it is to distinguish angelic presence but still… if Sam is alone, the second I enter his mind, if any of my siblings check on Sam, they will be able to see I am there. And I can't protect Sam from inside his mind, so if they decide to punish Sam for me reaching out…" Dean groans, covering his eyes.
"Right… right." Dean says softly.
"I am not saying I won't do it… if we need to talk to Sam, it might be worth the risk, but I didn't want to risk it until it was absolutely necessary." Cas explains, and Dean nods, feeling guilty about the irritated tone he took.
"Yeah, I get it Cas. I do. Sorry. But…" Dean glances around desperately, his eyes skimming over Bobby before he stops, turning to stare at the older hunter as an idea hits him, driving out the rest of whatever he had been about to say from his mind. "But what if we didn't send an angel?" Bobby frowns and Cas tilts his head.
"You got that stupid idea look, Dean." Bobby growls. "What are you thinking?"
"If Raphael and the God Squad can sense Cas, what if we didn't use angel power to get into Sam's head?" Dean asks. "What if you and I went?"
"What?" Bobby frowns. "How the hell would we…" His eyes widen. "African Dream Root." Dean turns back to Cas, as his expression goes from confused to thoughtful.
"Would they be able to sense that Cas?" Dean asks.
"No. Not unless they are inside Sam's head as well. That kind of magic wouldn't register to an angel." Cas says slowly. He starts to give a small, hopeful smile. "As long as you have some form of Sam's DNA, you should be able to connect with him completely undetected." Dean smiles, relieved to have a plan, some kind of one anyways, and something to do to help bring Sammy home.
"Great. Then Bobby and I will dream walk Sam's head, figure out what he knows and what's been happening." Dean says. "Cas, you stay here and keep an eye on our bodies. We might be under Raphael's protective order but that doesn't mean one of his followers might not go rogue. Not to mention, Crowley is still AWOL, and the last thing we want is to give him an opening if he does decide to drop back in."
"Now Squirrel, do you really think I would do something like that?" Bobby and Dean whip around, as Cas unsheathes his angel blade, and they all glare at Crowley, who is leaning on the doorway between the library and the living room. He raises his eyebrows. "And here I thought we were allies in this adventure."
"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demands.
"Mind your tone, Squirrel." Crowley says, easing into the room. "I have been gathering intel, following a lead on where poor, sweet Samantha may be being held." Dean scowls, clenching his fists.
"Don't suppose you feel like sharing with the class." Bobby asks, a hint of the anger Dean is feeling in his voice. Crowley shrugs.
"Don't have anything to tell yet. The lead is still panning out. Building trust takes time." Crowley says smoothly.
"Building trust?" Dean asks sharply, suspicious. "And who exactly are you building trust with asshole?"
"All in good time." Crowley smirks, and Bobby and Dean share an uneasy, wary glance. "What I can tell you is that Sammy is in more trouble than you think. While my source wouldn't tell me where the Moose is penned up, they did tell me that an angel by the name of Naomi is currently working on getting our current damsel in distress to be more… agreeable, is the term they used."
"No." Cas snarls, and Dean and Bobby jump, surprised by the fury in the angel's voice. They exchange worried looks.
"Afraid so." Crowley shrugs, looking supremely unconcerned.
"Cas, we knew this was a possibility." Dean points out hesitantly, though admittedly feeling the same as Cas about the whole situation. Cas tosses Dean a look full of rage.
"Thinking it might be happening and knowing it are two different things." Cas says coldly.
"It gets better." Crowley adds in. "I think this Naomi may have gotten in a bit over her head. She interrupted our meeting, in a bit of a tizzy, and my source had to leave quickly. Something about breaking more than she intended."
"No." Dean gasps, terror hitting him like a truck. There is only one thing they could have been messing with that would warrant being concerned about it breaking when it comes to Sam.
"The wall." Cas says grimly, furiously. Dean turns on him.
"We need to get into Sam's head, now." Dean snarls. Cas nods.
"I'll get what we need." He promises, disappearing with a flap of his wings.
"Are you mad, or stupid?" Crowley asks conversationally. "If Moose's head is cracked, it is going to be madness in there. It might just drive you insane by association if you go poking around in whatever shreds remain of his mind."
"Cram it Crowley." Dean growls at him.
"Fine." Crowley raises his hands in surrender. "If you want to go poking around the wreckage that is Sam's consciousness, fine by me. But don't expect me to bail you out when all that Hell traps you inside."
"What are you talking about?" Bobby asks. Crowley rolls his eyes impatiently.
"Of course. You are both about to go diving into a Hell-induced shattered psyche, and you have no idea about the risks. So very Winchester of you." Crowley mocks.
"I swear to God, Crowley, either make your point or I am going to douse you in holy oil and light you up like the fourth of July." Dean says furiously.
"Also very Winchester of you." Crowley says, before quickly stepping back when Dean steps towards him. "Fine, fine. My point is that you aren't just dream walking through a few random dreams and memories. Sam's mind is most likely the equivalent of Chernobyl, circa 1986 right now. Anything could be going on in that disaster zone. Hell memories so powerful they suck you in and never let you go. Fragments of Sam's identity fighting for control. Catatonia. For all you know, Sam could be lost in an endless black void, and trying to find him could take years. Don't you think it might be wise to at least consider these possibilities before you just jump in without a plan?"
"I hate to say it, but he has a point." Bobby says cautiously. Dean turns on him, fury and betrayal written across his face.
"If Sam's wall is broken, or breaking, then he needs us more than ever." Dean points out.
"I'm not disagreeing." Bobby says quickly. "But maybe we don't both have to go. Look, Sam needs help, obviously. So you go in and do what you gotta. But I'll stay here, just in case you idjits need anything on the outside." Dean sighs, running a hand over his face, but he can't argue with Bobby's idea. Having backup in case something goes wrong isn't the worst idea in the world. Because with Sam, everything that can go wrong usually does, and then some.
"If you want company, I am happy to come along." Crowley offers.
"Oh Hell no." Dean snarls. "You aren't going anywhere near Sam's head."
"Besides." Bobby looks at Crowley suspiciously. "Didn't you just try to warn us off of this idea, on account of everything that could be going on?"
"Yes, I tried to warn you off. Since you morons don't ever think anything through before you do something colossally idiotic." Crowley sneers. "Fortunately for you, I am the King of Prior Planning. I have thought of all of these facts already."
"And why would you want to help?" Dean asks coldly. "What's in it for you?" Crowley eyes him just as coldly.
"I already told you back at the motel, Squirrel. Your brother is the only one who has a snowballs chance in Hell at defeating Raphael." He says slowly, as if speaking to a kindergartner. "And in order for him to be able to defeat Raphael, he needs to not be a drooling mess of psychic paralysis. Besides, I am morbidly curious. I have seen almost every variation of demon that the Pit has spit out. I am curious what the Cage did to your brother in comparison." Dean moves closer, grabbing at Crowley and shoving him roughly up against the wall.
"He isn't some curiosity for you to gawk at, and poke and prod!" Dean yells, driving his fist hard into Crowley's face. "His mind isn't some playground for you to go running around in, because you have some sick fascination with torture, you son of a bitch! You aren't going anywhere near him, or what might be happening to him, are we clear?"
"Are you done?" Crowley asks boredly. "Tell me honestly Dean, that you aren't also slightly curious. You've been to Hell, you have seen what it does to people, you felt what it did to you. Tell me that, ever since that wall went up, you haven't secretly wanted to know just what Moose was being protected from."
"The only thing I care about is Sam being okay." Dean growls. "I don't give a rats ass about anything else. What they did to him in Hell, what breaking the wall will do, none of it, except for how I can fix it for him." Crowley rolls his eyes.
"Fine, deny it all you like. But don't act like I am some unspeakable monster for wanting to see Lucifer's masterpiece, and don't let it cloud sound judgement. Like I said, I have seen just about everything that the Pit can do to a soul. You might want that expertise when dealing with Moose. If he is hidden, or trapped in those memories, I can help you draw him out. Nobody knows Hell the way I do." Crowley says calmly. Dean scowls, pushing him harder into the wall.
"Dean." Dean looks back to see Cas landing back in the room, a glass jar of African Dream Root in one hand, and Sam's brush, complete with strands of his obnoxiously long hair, in the other. Cas looks at him solemnly. "Crowley has a point." Crowley beams as Dean drops him, and he turns back to Cas entirely.
"Seriously? Does nobody else remember Ruby? Meg? Lilith?" Dean demands furiously. "How many demon bitches are we going to let get anywhere near Sam's head? What if he screws with Sam, or makes things worse for him? What if this is all some sort of trap, or trick?" Dean whirls back to face Crowley. "You never did say where exactly you have been for the past few days."
"I've been trying to find the Moose, same as you." Crowley growls, starting to show his impatience. "And unlike with you three and these dusty old books, I have been making headway. Thanks to me, you know what to expect when you jump into that oversized head of his. Now, I appreciate your healthy skepticism Dean, but right now we both need Sam in one piece. It is in my best interest to protect him, same as yours. So with, or without you, I am going in to see what we can still scavenge of him. It would be best for everyone if we did it together, since with my knowledge of Hell's effects, and your relationship with Moose we have the best chance of succeeding before Naomi does permanent damage. But either way, the longer we take hashing this out, the more likely it is that she will succeed first." Dean scowls, folding his arm tightly over his chest, looking back towards Bobby and Cas.
"He can help, Dean." Cas says softly. "He is right that Sam's mind will be a dangerous place. A demon may be the best resource you have to survive it." Dean's scowl grows deeper as he turns to Bobby.
"Cas has the house guarded, and I'll be here if anything goes wrong to pull you out." Bobby reassures Dean. "But the sooner you can get in and out of Sam's head, the sooner we can get to work finding him. Might as well go in together instead of wasting time fighting."
"Besides." Cas says coolly, his eyes setting on the demon. "I know where your bones are, Crowley. Your real bones. If you hurt Sam, or mess with him in any way, I will bring them here and let Dean and Bobby burn them for real. After they finish with whatever else they want to do to you."
"A little faith once in a while would be nice, you know." Crowley mumbles. "I have already repeatedly stated I don't want to hurt a single luxurious hair on Winchester Jumbo Size's head."
"You'll get faith when you stop being such a dick, Crowley." Dean snaps. He shakes his head, looking back at Bobby and Cas, before studying the demon. "Here's the deal, take it or leave it. You and I go in, we help Sam deal with whatever is happening and we find out everything he knows about where he is and what Raphael is up to. You stay with me the entire time, no wandering off, and then we get out. You don't touch Sam, you don't even talk to him unless you have to or he speaks to you first, and if I get even a hint of you double crossing us, or playing us, I will show you exactly what I still remember from Hell, got it?"
"And be aware that, with Dean here, I will be able to monitor what is happening, at least to Dean." Cas says warningly. "So if you do anything outside of this deal, I will know."
"One would think you people had trust issues." Crowley drawls, sighing dramatically. "Very well. Now can we please get a move on? We are wasting daylight, and we are just thirty-three hours away from the eclipse." Dean nods sharply, and turns to Cas, who offers the brush and the Dream Root. Dean takes a strand of Sam's hair from the brush, dropping it into the liquid and taking a swig of about a third of the Dream Root, leaving enough for Crowley, and, if need be, Bobby. He hands the jar to Crowley, biting back the urge to spit the nasty tasting liquid back out as he moves over to the couch.
"Cas, we are going to need to go out fast." Dean says, as Crowley also drinks a third of the disgusting substance, gagging slightly before handing the jar off to Bobby.
"Of course." Cas nods, Crowley sitting on one of the spare chairs, looking unreasonably excited for what is supposed to be a rescue mission. "Good luck Dean."
"Who needs luck? He has me." Crowley crows smugly. Dean tosses a glare towards him before looking back at Bobby and Cas.
"Hold down the fort here. I will send Crowley out if we run into any issues." Dean says. Cas nods, and raises his hand, pressing two fingers to Dean's head.
"Don't be stupid, idjit" Dean hears Bobby say softly, before unconsciousness washes quickly and irresistibly over his head. Dean blinks, and Bobby's living room is gone. Instead, he is in a darkened bedroom, lit only by torches of burning hellfire. Dean flinches automatically, swallowing back his rising panic. He knows only too well hot painful those tongues of flame can be. He glances around quickly, taking in the rest of the room to distract him from the rush of memories of his own trying to take over his thoughts. He sees carpeted flooring, silver chains with a leather… is that a freaking collar? Rage and a bit of dread fill Dean as he tries to ignore the implications of that, and he quickly moves on, taking in the massive metal bed, and the nightstands beside it. The sheets and the blankets are a mess, and leather cuffs dangle, empty, from the headboard. Dean steps closer, grimacing as he recognizes the stains on the bed and ignoring the implications of that as thoroughly as he ignored the collar. He spots a cup on the nightstand and frowns, moving closer and catching the scent of Earl Grey, Sam's favorite.
"Well, this is lovely." Dean closes his eyes, praying for patience as Crowley's accented voice fills the space. He turns, to see Crowley surveying the room, his eyes sparkling as he catches sight of the collar, the cuffs and the stains. "Maybe I was wrong, maybe Samuel has been enjoying his time here more than we thought."
"Dream or not, I will stab you Crowley." Dean warns. Crowley rolls his eyes. "Come on, Sammy isn't here."
"Hold on." Crowley walks towards the bed.
"I swear to God if this is some perverted fetish…" Dean trails of threateningly as Crowley stops by the bed, frowning down at the stains.
"Oh relax." Crowley says distractedly. "It isn't your brother's… excitement that concerns me. Don't you see what else is here?"
"I am very much trying not to actually." Dean growls.
"Right, because closing your eyes and pretending it isn't there has done wonders for you boys." Crowley rolls his eyes. "Look closely." Dean doesn't want to, but, annoyingly, Crowley has a point. God, Dean hates how often that seems to be happening lately. Denying or ignoring something because it is uncomfortable has only ever lead them into more trouble or blown up in their faces. And right now, Sam doesn't have time for Dean to fuck around. Comfortable or not, Dean needs to do whatever it takes to help Sam, even if the things he is picturing happening in this room make him want to boil and bleach his brain simultaneously. Do it for Sammy, Dean tells himself, because if it is for his little brother, he can do anything.
"What?" He grumbles unhappily, moving closer to the bed to see what Crowley is pointing at. His eyes scan the bed, noticing as he does so the chains and manacles attached to the footboard, and the signs of struggle in the bed. Not feeling any better about what might have gone down, Dean focuses on where Crowley is pointing, frowning as he sees traces of a silver, bluish light in a vaguely human form laying prone on the bed. "What the hell is that?" He asks quietly.
"Let's find out." Crowley snaps, and the room ripples around them, blurring almost, until, all of a sudden, the room stills again, except this time they aren't alone in the room. Dean blinks, frozen in shock, as he sees Sammy laying in the bed, sound asleep, with a blonde woman sitting next to him. Jessica, Dean realizes with a pang of hurt. Neither Sam nor Jessica seem to notice the appearance of Dean and Crowley, and Dean has the feeling that neither of them know either of them are there.
"What was that?" Dean demands, looking at the King of Hell, who shrugs.
"I pulled up Moose's most recent memory of this room, which wasn't exactly easy. He has been in here a lot." Crowley answers.
"How?" Dean questions. Crowley snorts.
"Demons possess people, Dean. You think we don't pick up on how to manipulate the human mind while we are doing so?" Crowley asks sardonically. Dean frowns, but lets it go as he turns back to face Sammy and Jess, Jess now running her hands through Sammy's hair as they talk. He supposes he shouldn't be too surprised, it would make sense that demons know how to pull memories. Still, it unnerves Dean that Crowley is so easily able to look at Sam's mind. He hates invading his very private little brother's privacy like this, but if it helps them find Sam… Dean watches as Jess sets aside her tea, and his brother's expression turns from wide-eyed adoration to deeply passionate, and Jess moves to straddle him. "Your brother has good taste." Crowley remarks, and Dean turns his gaze away from the couple, mumbling threats against the King of Hell under his breath, hating exposing this memory of Sam's to an enemy. "Oh, well this is interesting." Dean looks up sharply, tuning back into Sam's memory as he notices the sudden appearance of restraints around Sam's wrist.
"Again, why?" Jessica is asking, flipping her hair back. Fear and panic surge through Dean as he watches a nasty, lustful look take over her face. Suddenly, Dean wants out of this room almost as much as he wants to run the bitch through with a knife. This isn't Sam's Jessica.
"I said so." Sam snaps, starting to struggle against the bindings, Dean easily reading the desperate look in his eyes, his heart aching for his little brother. "Jess, let me go."
"No." Jess sneers, and Dean unleashes a torrent of swear words as her eyes glow a burning, bright red. "I am never letting you go again, Sammy."
"Lucifer." Sam whispers, and Dean watches as the fear washes over his brother, and he ceases his fighting, dread, and pain and utter horror filling his expression. Dean is frozen in place, shock holding him still as he struggles to comprehend what Sam is going through, what his mind is making him relive, because this is a memory, and if it is a memory, it means Lucifer did this. He really did this. He… Sam was… Lucifer… Dean shakes his head, unable to think the words.
"The one and only." Dean squeezes his eyes shut, unable to watch what is happening now. He has enough context to put the pieces together, he absolutely does not need the visual confirmation. Still, he can't tune out his brother pleading, or Lucifer's mocking. Squeezing his fists as tightly as he can, trembling with rage and grief for his brother, his jaw clenched tightly, Dean struggles to hold himself together, telling himself over and over that there is nothing he can do, that this is just a memory, until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Dean glances over at Crowley, who looks oddly emotionless at the scene playing out in front of him.
"This is the important part." Crowley murmurs, without his usual bravado, or arrogance. There is a solemnity to him in place of his usual smugness. Odd, Dean would have thought Crowley would be getting off on something like this. Unable to deal with that, on top of seeing a sliver of what Sam endured in the Cage, Dean focuses on what is happening, trying to tune out the moans and heavy breathing and begging, and just see. He watches as Jessica shifts on top of Sam, her body shifting and morphing into Sam's. Dean growls out several threats on what he is going to do if he ever sees Lucifer again while he talks down to Sam.
"See Sammy? That wasn't so bad was it?" Despite knowing this is not real, not actually happening, Dean steps forward, his rage pulling him towards the bastard who… who… hurt Sammy, but before Dean can tear him to shreds, he sees movement, and out of the shadows of the room, another form steps, an angel blade in hand. Dean pauses, frozen, as a third Sam joins the other two, but this one is… wrong. Tall, and lithe, and cold. His eyes, empty, but focused. Radiating danger and ruthlessness, Dean knows this version of Sam all too well. Even now, in Sammy's memories, Dean feels his blood run cold as the soulless version of his brother passes, eyes locked on the Sam Lucifer is pretending to be, and Dean and Crowley watch in silence as he strikes, merciless and without hesitation, driving the blade into Lucifer's heart. Dean and Crowley watch as Lucifer explodes into a brilliant silver light, that washes over and into Sam. And then Sam starts screaming, his head being thrown back, and the entire room around them flickers, in and out of existence, alternating between the room, and utter blackness, before it explodes around them. Both Crowley and Dean flinch, as the image shatters, almost like glass, except every piece is a glimpse into a different memory, and they all start swirling around Sam. Dean tries not to look, to not see, but he can't help noticing a couple of the memories. Sam bound to a metal pole, hellfire burning around him, sizzling his skin. Sam running through a field, hellhounds following and pouncing on him, tearing him apart. Dean cringes hard at that one, squeezing his eyes shut as his flesh seems to remember its own time under those teeth, those claws. More scenes of the bedroom, Sam either on the floor or the bed, Lucifer or even Michael…. Doing things to him. Hurting him in ways that even Alistair never hurt Dean. Alistair always preferred a knife, and while he did occasionally branch out, it was never… never personal, not like this. Dean was just a job to Alistair, though, and Dean supposes that was the difference. With Sam, it is clearly personal.
"Aha." Crowley says softly, and Dean follows his gaze, watching as the soulless version of Sam crouches down beside the Sam who is screaming, and thrashing and curled so tightly into a ball, he is almost absorbing himself.
"No." Soulless Sam is saying, voice hard and unyielding. "Don't you dare." He reaches down, touching Sam's chest, right above his heart, and the two vanish into a bright, white light.
"We need to follow them. That's where we will find the real Sam." Crowley says. Swallowing nervously, Dean nods, and Crowley flicks his wrist again. Okay, so maybe having the demon was helpful after all. Doesn't mean Dean has to like it, even though his ability to pull Dean through Sam's mind to where he actually is has probably saved Dean a lot of time, and avoided a lot of things Dean never wants to see. When the world comes into focus around them once more, they are standing at the edge of a field, under a brilliant blue sky, with wind gently blowing around them. The grass is long, extremely overgrown, and waves around them and between stones. No. Not stones… graves. Dean looks around quickly, his heart starting to race as he recognizes the black iron gates around the cemetery, the ancient headstones, the dead and dying trees… Stull. Crowley looks around, obviously confused, but the both look up at the sound of a loud thump, and they sprint up the short slop hiding the rest of graveyard from them. As they reach the top, they freeze, trying to take in the sight before them. Sam, the soulless version, is stalking his way between the rows of graves, exactly as they saw him in the memory, and looking as ruthless and calculating as he was the day Death crammed Sam's soul back in, even wearing the same clothes. And Sam, the real Sam, naked and bearing vivid red marks around his wrists and ankles, is pacing backwards, matching Soulless Sam's pace, but with a slight limp. As they watch, Soulless Sam leaps forward, and Sam dives out of the way, Soulless Sam crashing into a tombstone, making the same thumping noise they had earlier, while Sam scrambles towards something silver in the grass. Shaking off the pain of the collision, Soulless Sam turns, and leaps, and all at once is flying at Sam's unprotected back.
"Sam!" Dean screams, trying desperately to warn his brother. Sam stumbles, his head snapping around, his eyes wide in panic and fear and confusion, as they lock onto Dean's. They stare at each other for a second, before Soulless Sam is slamming into Sam, tackling them both to the ground.