entry 058 - spn
Title: Dear Sam, It's 10:54. From, Hell.
Author: jamie_love13
Beta-Edited: letoist
Artist: cybel
Art Masterpost: Here. Check it out, it's fucking amazing.
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Lucifer, Sam/Lucifer!Dean, Sam/Dean
Word Count: 3,157
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, PTSD a little.
Spoilers: All aired episodes of season seven.
Status: Complete
Summary: Sam's been gone for a while, and his nightmares are coming back to him without Dean to stop them, his nightmares of a time in Hell that killed him. Will they continue or will they stop?
Disclaimer: Definitely do not own.
Warnings Rape, Triggery Things.
Notes: Written for spn_reversebang. Had a blast doing it. I don't know my persons livejournal (HOW DID I FORGET TO ASK?!?!) so the link to the art will be up soon. In other words though, FANFICTION.
It’s been approximately three months since his wall has come down, since Castiel has vanished and since he’s started using pain to stop the hallucinations of Lucifer coming to him. It’s been one week since he found out about Amy though, one week since he left Dean standing in the middle of the pier, unsure of where to go or what to do. It’s been one week since all of that and one week since his dreams have been getting worse and worse. He’s not an idiot, not at all. He knew that he was having nightmares, even when he was still with Dean. He’d just decided to not say anything to his older brother - even though Dean knew anyways and always appeared in his bed to comfort him - but now, without Dean to wake him up before the dreams got worse, they did end up becoming worse. At first they always started out slow, kind of like when Sam would always relive the deaths of his older brother, back when Gabriel was still around. He would begin getting ready for bed, showering, brushing his teeth and changing out of his clothes. He’d look at the clock, would see that it was 10:53 and would begin to panic. He never knew why, but once the clock turned to 10:54, he would be in a full-blown panic attack, his breathing coming in harsh pants and his palm would begin to throb in pain.
Sam never knew why, never knew what was causing this. All he did know is that when he was with Dean, he would wake up before the panic attacks began, but now, without his brother, his dreams just continue. He’s walking along a corridor, can hear someone letting out a bone-chilling scream and another person laughing, loud and clear. He walks down the corridor slowly, can hear the ticking of the clock as it turns towards the next minute. He can hear even more screams now and against his better judgement, Sam looks at his surroundings and takes a gulp. The walls around him are beating, thick with red flaps and white lines. The walls are beating like a heart and Sam has to take a step back to realize that yes, the walls are actually the walls of a heart, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everything seems tense, and when Sam realizes that there’s thick goopy liquid running down the walls, he recognizes the fact that this is the furthest his dreams have ever gotten. He takes a deep gulp and pinches his skin on his forearm. When that doesn’t work, he scratches the scar on his palm, but that doesn’t work either. Sam takes one more gulp, only to return a mouthful of sulphur and screams. He wants to turn around, run back to his brother but he knows he won’t be able to - its’ an impossibility, and it’s his fault, because he’s the one who left.
“Sammy,” His head snaps forward, his eyes sharpen in the darkness and his fists clench in fear. His heartbeat speeds up, his palms begin to sweat and Sam has to wipe them on the fabric of his jeans while taking another deep breath. He can hear more screams, screams that are all around him but seem to be only coming from one person. Sam doesn’t want to think about whom those screams belong to, even if he does truly know. He doesn’t want to think about why the person is screaming, what’s happening to them and who it is that’s causing him so much pain. It would be remembering, and Sam knows that while he chose to continue onwards for Dean, he doesn’t want to remember this time in his time of Hell. As he steps closer towards the screams though, there are flashes of bright red to dark red, someone laughing manically and another person screaming out for someone, someone that will bring him redemption and calamity. He can see metal gleaming in each of the flashes, and he has to stop a shiver from escalating throughout his body. He can hear his name being called again, and while it’s a familiar voice, Sam knows it’s just a fake, not the real thing. He wants to turn around, run away, but he knows that won’t be possible.
He can hear his name being yelled now and he quickly turns around to listen to the voice, only to see a bloody handprint appear on a glass window - and when the holy fuck did that get there? - blood dripping down, trickling slowly like someone slit their wrists just deep enough to watch the blood clot and pour down in rivulets. Sam turns around again and again once more when all he sees is bloody handprints and can only hear the screams of his name.
His breathing begins to pick up again and his heartbeat is erratic. Sam puts pressure onto his palm one more time, can hear the voice of Lucifer clearly now, doesn’t know where to go or what to do and just wants this damn nightmare to end, even if he has to remember for it to end. He starts his breathing practices, trying to imagine Dean’s chest behind him, breathing with him, helping him. It’s not nearly as close as to what it usually does when Dean’s with him but for now, it’ll have to do. His forehead is sweating, water coming down like rain on a window, pounding through his head like a migraine. He takes a gulp of air, can still smell sulphur, but can now smell blood and sweat and come and he doesn’t know how to feel about that last one. He takes a hesitant step forward, can hear his name being called again, tauntingly this time. He wants to step back, run away, again and again. Blood is dripping faster from the walls now, and Sam can’t tell if it’s from the handprints or the walls that appear to be that of a freaking heart.
“Sammy, come to me Sam,” Sam takes one more step before pausing, his breathing coming in fast bursts. He clenches his hands tightly, his nails scraping the skin of his palms, blood coming through. He doesn’t care too much, because Sam knows this is hell, this place is full of blood - his blood¬ - so why should he care if some more of his blood gets added to he pile.
“Come on, Sammy.” The voice taunts, and Sam knows it’s Lucifer, knows that the devil wants him to break through and have a breakdown.
“It’s Sam, asshole.” He growls, his fists clenching, the skin growing white with tightness. He can hear Lucifer laugh, can hear the pure evil in that laugh that hides itself as humour and it makes Sam shudder, makes goose bumps crawl up his spine.
Sam continues walking though, continues going onward. He suddenly hears the ticking of a clock and wonders what time it is, how long he’s been in this dream, this nightmare. Sam can still hear the tick of the clock, the chime of a near hour, and his flesh begins to become cold, which he knows to attribute with Lucifer. The next time he breaths, he breathes cold air, a fresh length of it coming out of his mouth and he shivers.
“Sammy, please, help me!” Sam stops, slows his breathing down to a normal rate, tries not to growl in anger over Lucifer using his brother’s voice to get him to him. It wouldn’t be the first time Lucifer used something of Dean’s to get to Sam, and definitely not the last.
“C’mon Sam, you deserve this!” He yells, and Sam stops completely, wanting to keep calm before he continues. All he can see again are the bloody handprints, his breath coming in frozen pants and the clock ticking and suddenly, next thing he knows, he’s being pulled from the area he’s in and into another area - an area with bars all around him, frozen to the ground and an infinite ceiling. He takes a gulp, feels the sulphur in his throat and wants to choke it all up. He can feel the power thrumming through his blood and his veins, wants to claw it all out, never feel that power again. Sam wraps his arms around his waist, his teeth chattering with the cold he feels. He can remember being shocked that it would be cold in hell, but now that he thinks about it, being cold in hell makes sense for Sam.
“C’mon Sam, you know you want to see me.” Lucifer taunts one more time, and Sam sighs before shaking the fog in his head out of it and heading towards the voice. He can still hear the ticking of the clock, and he really wants to know how long he’s been down here, how long he’s been remembering this nightmare, memory, whatever the fuck you want to call it.
“Hi, Sammy,” Lucifer grins when he finally sees Sam and Sam shivers and bares his teeth.
“It’s Sam.” He growls. He knows it’s irrational, knows exactly what Lucifer will do in order to get to call him Sammy, and Sam never liked it, still doesn’t. When Lucifer turns into Dean, Sam has to stop himself from flinching at the sight and wondering how his older brother is at this moment. He has to be able to stay strong for himself and Dean, and flinching at Lucifer will not be proving that. He can hear the guy chuckle and even though it sounds like Dean, Sam knows better, knows that that chuckle is anyone but Dean’s.
“Sammy, come to bed.” Sam shakes his head, this isn’t his Dean, this isn’t their bed because they haven’t shared a bed since before he went to Hell, at least, not in that sense, and Sam knows that Dean wouldn’t want to share his bed now anyways. Why share your bed with someone you don’t trust, someone who could possibly kill you?
“Awh, don’t be like that Sammy. You know I’ll take care of you.” Sam takes another step back but freezes when he feels himself hit a hard chest, and feels a hand run down his back and land onto his waist.
“C’mon Sammy - you’ve always been a cockslut for me. What’s so different now?” He begins shaking, nodding his head in a definitely denial. He wants to scream, no no no but his throat seems to be frozen, like cold air has become trapped and permanently dislodged his larynx. His breathing picks up and his heart beat becomes erratic.
“You’re not him,” He whispers, trying hard to remember that this is just a nightmare -- just him remembering his time down there in that cage and that it’s not actually happening. He feels lips on his neck and he tries so damn hard not to arch into that brief touch because while he knows, he fucking knows it’s just Lucifer, just a memory, it’s been so long since he’s been touched by Dean in any way other than brotherly, and fuck if he doesn’t miss it.
“Admit it, Sammy, you want this. You want me.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, stuffing a moan that was coming out of his mouth back into his mouth - wouldn’t give Lucifer the god damn satisfaction, and wasn’t that irony for you.
“No. You’re not him!”
“But I could be him, Sammy. Admit it, you miss him, you want him. I could be him. At least for eight minutes.” Sam scrunches up his face in confusion and he can suddenly see the clock that’s been ticking and he’s completely surprised to see that the clock still says 10:54. Everything comes back to him then, the pain and the screams and the blood and he begins struggling, begins fighting to get out of Lucifer’s grasp, doesn’t feel safe, never could, even while wearing Dean’s face.
“Come on Sammy, you know you want this.”
“No, no, no Lucifer, I don’t. Let me go.” He weeps, tears trickling down his cheeks
.
“Awh, you crying Sammy? Crying because you want your brother’s cock so badly?”
“No. Get off me, leave me alone. Bastard, go away.” He’s struggling harder now, his body hurting against the idea of the intrusion.
“It’ll be okay Sammy. I won’t hurt you the way Dean does.” Sam quivers when he hears the tell-tale sound of a zipper being moved. He started struggling even harder at that point, but he could feel the rustle of fabric moving against skin and more fabric. His moments become more frantic when he can feel the tip of a dick on his ass.
“It’ll be ok, Sammy.”
“No. No. Please just - anything but this, Lucifer, please.” Sam begs, he pleads and he looks anywhere other than Lucifer or the mirror across from him. He can see his bloody handprint from when Lucifer flayed his palm open, and he sees a clock, sees it’s 10:54 and he starts to panic.
“Lucifer, no!” He begs, wanting anything other than to be raped by Lucifer dressed as his brother, anything but that. He hears Lucifer laugh, feels him run his palm over his waist and stomach, his fingers clenching his hip bone. It causes Sam to cry out in pain.
“It’ll be fine, Sam. I’ll treat you nicely.” There are tears running down his cheeks, and he knows he’s a snotty mess. He doesn’t give a shit, he just wants to get away from the devil, away from the pain.
“Please stop,” he begs one more time, but he ends up screaming out in pain when he can feel Lucifer push himself in. He knows instantly that while the devil may be dressed as Dean, his private parts are definitely not those of Dean’s. He’s thrashing, screaming, bleeding from every crevice and he just wants to fucking forget.
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” he cries, trying to remember a happier time with his brother, a time where they weren’t fighting about anything, just being brothers and lovers. He can hear Lucifer trying to calm him down, but Lucifer isn’t Dean, will never be Dean, can’t be Dean, and Sam’s still thrashing, still screaming, still bleeding.
“Leave me along, god, please, just leave me alone...”
He wakes up, sweating, his eyes wide and his heartbeat fast and erratic. His clock says that it’s 10:50-fucking-4 and he can see a bloody handprint on his sheets and the window. There’s a figure huddled in the corner of his room and he knows instantly that it’s Dean, the real Dean, and he quivers a little at the thought.
“Dean,” he whimpers, and he feels more than sees Dean rush next to him, sit next to him on the bed and wonder if he should put his arms around him. Sam needs the comforting touch, the real thing, so he nudges his shoulders between Dean’s arms, and waits for Dean to close them completely around him. He’s shaking and crying, trying so hard not to let the reminder of his time in hell interrupt his time with Dean, but he knows that Dean recognizes that something is deeply wrong.
“Sammy, what’s the... what did you dream about?” Sam keeps shaking, puts his head in the crook of Dean’s neck and shoulders.
“Dean, Dean, Dean. Don’t let me dream again, please Dean.” He whimpers, clutching at his older brother like there’s nothing left for him to fight for. Dean’s holding him, rocking him, trying to make him calm his breathing down.
“Okay, it’s okay, Sam. I’m here. I won’t let you go.” Sam keeps crying, can’t regret leaving Dean because damn, he left for a reason, but now that Dean’s here, holding him and protecting him, Sam never wants to let him go again.
“He pretended to be you, Dean.” He whimpers once more, holding on even tightly.
“He pretended to be you, completely and utterly and I kept saying no, no, no, but he’s the devil and why would the devil listen to his boy king?” He mumbles, his tears no longer coming down like a rainstorm. He feels Dean’s hold tighten on him, feels him take in a harsh breath.
“He said he’d take care of me like you’ve never had, but you always take care of me, always and always and you’d never hurt me like he did, right Dean, right?” Sam’s mumbling, worried and scared all at once and knows that he doesn’t expect an answer and knows that Dean won’t give him one.
“Sammy, shit Sammy, I’m so sorry.” Sam’s not listening though, just keeps mumbling about how much he misses Dean, how much Lucifer must’ve known because damn if he won’t keep taunting him about it. He’s never been this struck over a nightmare and Dean knows that something’s up so when he hits Sam up over the head, Sam shuts up immediately in shock.
“Whaaa---?”
“Sammy, the only reason, really, the only reason we haven’t been together is because I’m worried about you, worried that even being together will send you back into a nightmare.” Dean says, and Sam has to stare at his older brother in shock, doesn’t know what to say about that, even as Dean leans closer to him and puts his mouth on top of his own, gently pushing and silently asking for Sam’s permission. Sam gives it to him willingly, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck, moaning into the kiss.
“Promise me Dean. I don’t care that you killed her, I care that you don’t trust me. I need you, want you to trust me again Dean, please.” He whimpers, breaking the kiss and breathing into his brother’s neck. He can feel Dean tense, and he’s worried that he’ll back away, say no, but instead Dean relaxes into the touch, rubs soothing circles onto his back before sighing.
“I’m sorry for not trusting you Sam, sorry for lying. Just didn’t want to hurt you.” Dean replies and Sam nods his head, and he can feel Dean put his fingers under his chin and make him look at his brother. Dean licks his lip and leans in one more time, his tongue pushing for entrance into Sam’s mouth. He opens it willingly, clenching Dean’s jacket, moaning into the kiss. He can feel Dean’s hands on his waist and he has to break away.
“No!” He says harshly and Dean looks at him, rubs his cheek in an out of character move of tenderness for him.
“I’ll wait forever, Sammy. However long it takes for you to be ok.”
“What if I never get okay, Dean? He was the fucking devil, and he did a number on me.” Sam’s scared, worried Dean will leave him for good after so long.
“I’ll still wait for you forever Sammy. You may’ve forgotten, but you’re my soulmate and that won’t ever change.”