All The Same 1/1
Title: All The Same
Author:cherry916
Beta: strgazr04 &howdy-sam
Warnings: hell memories, mentions of non-con
Rating: R
A/N: This was written for the ohsam fic challenge for THIS prompt. For klutzy_girl
Summary: With the hell memories crowding around him 24/7, Dean out drinking away the night and Amy's face burning bright behind his eyes, he had to break some time.
Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again
You'll just come back running
Holding your scarred heart in hand
It's all the same
And I'll take you for who you are
If you take me for everything
And do it all over again
It's all the same
Dean's out drinking. It isn't really any surprise to Sam.
After he discovered Dean's little lie (which was totally NOT so little by the way) and walked away, he knew that ultimately he'd be walking straight back to Dean. Back to the only family he ever really had.
It's not the lie that hurts. To be honest, Dean and he have lied so much to each other Sam's gotten used to it by now, it's the idea behind it. Sam asked Dean to trust him, treat him as an equal and trust that Sam made the right decision.
It's the betrayal that hurts worse than anything else. It stings down deep into his heart until he's gasping for air, begging the pain to quit.
Could he really be trusted anyway?
Sam rubs at his aching head and does his best to focus on his laptop. The motel they're staying in is of the shitty variety. The same old cockroaches and smelly sheets, the leaky ceiling and noisy air conditioner that drove them both insane at night.
Nothing out of the ordinary here.
Except the ironic twist of fate that everything is out of the ordinary. Everything seems to be wrong and Sam quite honestly doesn’t know how to make them right.
Ain't that the truth Sam chuckles softly to himself. His whole life has been a whirlwind of wrong with him trying to figure out how to make it all right.
“Fuck...” Sam groans and rubs at his sore eyes again. He checks the bed side clock; bright neon red numbers flashing 2:45 stare back at him.
It’s late. He should go and find Dean, make sure he isn't drowning in his own vomit or shoving his foot down his mouth like he usually does at bars. But Sam just doesn't have the energy to move, he's lethargic and anxious at the same time. His nerves are on high alert, he feels jittery and disorientated. His mind never giving him rest or reprieve.
Amy's face flashes before his eyes again and he has to dig his hands into his eye sockets to make her picture go away. It hurts. Burns worse than anything else and he can't figure out why she does.
Amy was of course a monster. Dean did the right thing... didn't he?
Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was digging up old wounds that Sam tried so hard to heal.
“You're a monster.”
“If it's supernatural, we kill it.”
“You're not you anymore, and there's no going back.”
Sam shakes his head to get rid of the bad memories and when he opens his eyes again, there in the corner stands Lucifer looking highly smug.
“Go away.” Sam mumbles gently, turning to face the other direction. He finds it ludicrous that he's actually talking to his hallucination but what else is new?
“Oh, Sam. I'm hurt.” Lucifer mock hurts, putting a hand to his heart. As if he even had one.
Sam rolls his eyes and pays attention to his laptop again, trying his best to ignore the big elephant in the room. That being freaking Satan sitting around like a long lost pal!
“Come on Sammy you know it's not wise to ignore me.”
Sam feels his spine stiffen and wishes Lucifer's cruel words didn’t haunt him. Memories start to emerge and Sam closes his eyes and prays to keep them back.
“You know it's true.” Lucifer whispers in that eerily sweet voice. Suddenly Lucifer isn't in the corner anymore, he's right behind Sam with his hands roaming over his stiff shoulders.
Sam flinches and leaps off the chair knocking it over. “Stay back!” He warns. Not that he has any leverage at the moment.
Lucifer smirks but stays where he is. “What? If I remember correctly you liked that.”
Sam swallows and tries not to let it show how much Lucifer is affecting him.
Cold hands roaming his naked body, groping and pulling as they go along...
“No... no!” Sam shakes his head and pulls at his hair a little bit. Pieces come out and his scalp stings but it grounds him. Stone number one... Sam reminds himself. Just until Dean gets here...
Lucifer smirks again, that one smirk that always sent shivers up Sam's spine, always made him tighten with anticipation of another hit. Sam's hand is mostly healed so no amount of pushing on it or pressing on it causes pain anymore.
“Oh you don't remember? Well I remember specifically the massages I used to give you...”
“Shut up.” Sam warns with deadly calm.
“No, I think you need some reminding. Remember my hands gliding over your sweaty body? Huh? You would purr like a cat.” Lucifer smiles like he's enjoying reliving the memory. As if that wasn't the lowest time of Sam's existences.
Stone number one. Stone number one. Stone number one. Sam chants over and over again trying to get Lucifer's words out of his head. Keep the memories back but too many are threatening to flood in and overwhelm him. The meagre blockage is breaking and it feels like absolute hell all over again.
His breathing becomes shorter as his heart constricts painfully. “Stop... please.”
“Stop? Remember what I told you Sammy.” Lucifer walks up slowly to where Sam is standing. He doesn't even have the energy to flinch away or move when Lucifer strokes through his hair. “Stop doesn't exist in my vocabulary . There is no ‘stopping’ to me.”
“Besides,” Lucifer bends down low, his mouth right above Sam's ear. “You never told me to stop before, so I assume you enjoyed it all.”
Sam flinches back at that. The early days, weeks, months inside the cage was almost unexpected for Sam.
Sam's eyes widen as memories come flooding in.
The worst part is he doesn't know where Adam is.
The first few weeks were spent asking endless questions about Adam no matter how many times Lucifer told him to leave it alone.
After that he just gave up with trying. He knew that Lucifer would never give him a straight answer anyway.
The cage was... well dark. It was lit by a few flames but nothing like Sam pictured. It was just dark and oppressing. The silence made it unbearable to even think about without going insane.
The worst was the echo.
Skin slapping skin, Sam's screams bouncing off the walls, always coming back to him with full force.
The absolute worst was the moans, grunt, sounds of...
Sam's eyes snap open and he moans in agitation. Too many memories were trying to break through and barge in on him.
Lucifer just smiles and strokes his hair again, in an almost gentle manner. “You remembering now my pet?”
Sounds of Lucifer's words whispered to him. Telling him he was nothing, nothing more than a whore, a dirty play thing. That Dean would have done this a long time ago if he wasn't disgusted with the idea of Sam.
Sam let the words wash over him without a blink. It became harder and harder to believe that Lucifer was wrong. It just became easier to accept it, to let Lucifer do what he wanted, hell, even enjoy it at times.
Day by day Sam's humanity slowly dwindled away until he could barely muster up the energy to even remember who he was.
“NO!” Sam screams and pushes at the hallucination.
Nothing’s there when his arms hit air so he tumbles backwards, hitting his head on the way down. “No...” Sam moans and squirms on the floor, trying his best to get back up.
“Poor baby fall down?”
Sam's eyes blink open to see not Lucifer this time... but Dean.
“Dean...?”
“Always expecting me to pick your ass up huh? Well sorry, I'm done picking up your sorry ass.” Dean sneers cruelly, his boot coming down to hit Sam on his stomach.
The air leaves Sam’s lungs in a quiet gasp as he curls himself into a small ball. “Dean…” Sam sobs. He thought they were over this, that maybe Dean didn't hate him. That seems to be wishful thinking as well. Obviously Dean doesn’t trust him, doesn’t trust his judgement and why should he? Sam’s a freak incorporated and is barely hanging on.
He should have seen it all coming really. It's just pathetic that he didn't.
Sam feels a tear escape and wipes it away angrily. Staggering up off the floor, he stumbles into the desk with a pained grunt.
“What? Poor baby Sammy leaving again?” Dean snorts and Sam flinches at the cruel sound. “Typical, always running away from your problems. I didn't really expect anything less.”
Sam stifles his sobs and closes his eyes against the pang of memories.
“Come on Sam, you know it and I know it. Dean's tired of taking care of your sorry ass. Hell I bet he's dancing on your grave, if they even gave you one.”
Sam manages to stumble all the way to the motel door. He pauses at the doorway, hoping upon hope that Dean says something like 'just kidding' but stifling silence meets him.
It’s the nail in the coffin for Sam.
Walking out the motel room door, Sam is so riddled with grief and angst that he doesn’t even stop to put on his jacket.
The rain that has suddenly begun to fall pelts him in the face until his shaggy brown hair sticks to his eyes.
“I'm just a sorry pain in the ass.” Sam mumbles. “No one wants me around.” Making his way through the parking lot with no idea to where he’s going, he figured it’s best to just disappear. And the dark forest behind the motel is the perfect place.
Dean lets the burn of whiskey slither down his throat and fill his gut.
The bar’s surprisingly empty. Only a few patrons at the bar and a few scattered around the tables. Dean could care less really, it's not like he gives a shit now anyway.
Amy's face is still burned behind his eyelids and the whiskey isn’t helping. All it's managing to do is give him a fucking headache.
Rubbing at his sore temples, Dean puts pressure on them in hopes of dwindling the ache, but the pain just ratchets up more.
“Fuck...” Dean moans.
“Hey sugar maybe you’ve had enough for tonight huh?”
Dean looks up with bleary eyes at the bartender. She’s tall and thin, definitely in her forties and not the prettiest thing he's ever seen but Dean isn't ashamed to say, that if the circumstances weren't so fucking messed up, he'd probably hit that.
“Maybe.” Dean mumbles softly. He doesn’t think he can face Sam just yet. Though maybe he should at least head on out of the bar before he falls on his ass.
The bartender pursues her lips as if she wants to say more but she walks off without a word.
Dean's thankful for that, he doesn't really feel like warding off a motherly bartender.
Pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, he slaps a 20 on the bar and leaves. His gait is surprisingly straight for someone who sat and downed 2 hours worth of liquor, but Dean really doesn't have it in him to remark on the miracle of him being somewhat sober.
He doesn't really have the energy to even breathe anymore.
Ran hits him in the face and he stares up at the sky like it's mocking him. The sky, which was a vibrant blue earlier, now is filled with gray and Dean thinks it's quite fitting.
Turning his wrist over Dean winces at seeing 3:56. Sam’s probably crawling the walls with worry. If Sam is even still there... the thought terrifies him, sends a chill down his spine and leaves him feeling empty but all he can really think is that he brought it on himself.
He did this.
He killed Amy even after Sam told him he had it covered, then he went and accused Sam of being a dick and not being able to do the job. Sometimes Dean just wishes he wasn't such a loud mouth.
He has been known to speak before even thinking but that's really no excuse.
Sighing, Dean hurriedly unlocks the Impala and hops in. The faster he gets to the motel and passes out... the better.
Sam begins to shiver from the monumental rain. Branches whip back and slice open his face. Lucifer taunts how pretty he always looked in red, which makes him shiver even more, but for different reasons.
He really has no idea where he’s going. It’s dark outside and the gray clouds only obscured the moon. He should be worried that he’s wandered out here alone without any protection but at that moment, he wasn't thinking too straight.
“Hey baby maybe we can share body heat? You're looking kinda cold.”
Sam grits his teeth against the 'no' that’s on the tip of his tongue. Lucifer’s just messing with him, and no matter how many times Sam says no or stop... Lucifer always continues.
He wipes his wet hair from his face again and trudges onwards. To where... well that’s still uncertain. Besides, no matter where he goes, Lucifer will always be there. That thought scares him more than anything else ever could.
Dean trudges up to the motel room in silence. The rain’s still pouring down hard so he has his head down, trying to escape it the best he can.
So that was why that he doesn’t notice that the motel door is open until the last second.
His hunter instincts are on instant alert. He reaches for the spot his gun’s usually kept but he’s met with nothing.
“Fuck.” Dean whispers furiously. He’s left it in the Impala.
Peeking around the corner Dean whispers, “Sam?”
Looking inside, the room’s empty. The light’s on, the laptop’s laid open on the table and a chair’s knocked over.
No Sam though.
His heart starts to thud in his chest as he enters the room. “Sammy?” Dean whispers brokenly. It's not like Sam’s around to hear or answer him. Maybe he finally packed up and left, done with Dean's shit and lies. Dean wouldn't blame him.
Except his heart just won’t accept that. Call it wishful thinking or his ever present big brother instincts, but Dean knows something is amiss.
Scanning the room with his trained eyes, he notices Sam's bags are still there, as are his own. In the same spot they dumped them in before Dean hoped skipped to the bar.
Walking around the chair, Dean bends down and immediately notices blood on the yellow carpet. It isn't much. Maybe only the side of a penny, but it’s enough.
Sam didn't leave of his own free will; either he was taken by force or...
Dean swallows and shakily stands up. Or Sam’s hallucinations were behind his disappearance. The room is just too neat for Dean to believe that someone took Sam.
Despite being hell bound, Dean knows Sam would have fought like hell (no pun intended). The room would have been a disaster zone. So that only leaves one option.
“Damn it Sammy.” Dean whispers, rubbing his face. Walking back out to the doorway, Dean trys looking across the dark parking lot, but all he can see is rain and more rain.
No Sam.
“SAMMY!”
Sam trips over a root and plants his face in the wet mud. He isn't the most graceful man but even for him, this was ridiculous.
Lucifer snickers and taunts him in the background but Sam does his best to ignore him. He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, but soon regrets it as pain spikes through the back of his skull. He winces and swallows back the bile threatening to escape.
He isn't sure how far out he is, what with the way he's been tripping and falling over himself, but he figures not very far.
“Do you need help up?”
To anyone else it would seem like a genuine gesture, but Sam knows better. Lucifer always has a sinister meaning behind everything.
“No.” Sam grumbles.
“Are you sure?” Lucifer bends down anyway and Sam does his best to bat Lucifer’s hands away but his limbs are uncoordinated and weak.
Lucifer's hands slide over Sam’s icy skin and warm him up. His palms were always so smooth, it makes Sam twitch. Dean's palms were always course and callused, from working with them since childhood.
That's when Sam's reminded this isn't Dean.
“Get off me!” Sam knocks the invisible hands away as best as he can. It isn't until a few minutes later that Sam realizes those hands he's fighting with are actually moss hanging from a branch.
Lucifer is nowhere in sight. “What...?” Sam turns around on the cold ground and feels the mud slip through his fingers.
“Sammy!”
Sam furrows his brows in confusion. “Dean?”
“Dean doesn't want you remember Sammy.”
Lucifer is here again, sitting next to him like they're on a picnic and not sitting on a cold muddy ground out in the middle of nowhere.
“But-” Sam's tongue pokes out in concentration. He tries to remember when Dean said he doesn't want him but can't.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer gives him a bright smile and suddenly Sam is transported back to his memories.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer used to say before he cracked the whip down on his quivering back.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer chanted as he pried Sam's fingernails off.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer crooned as he guided his hardened cock into Sam's bruised hole.
Sam's eyes snap open and he screams.
“God fucking damn it.” Dean grumbles as he trudges through the forest, branches and leaves hitting him in the face as he goes. “Stupid hallucinating brothers.”
After Dean hugged the stupid bastard, he was going to kick his ass for giving him a heart attack. After searching for ten minutes for his wayward brother, he thinks he may actually have a real heart attack. The rain continues to pound down, the minutes tick by and still no sign of Sam anywhere.
Not like Dean has great visibility to begin with.
“Sammy!” Dean shouts again, cupping his hands around his mouth. It’s hard to get his voice to sound louder than the rain and every time he opens his mouth, rain water washes in making him spit and gag it out.
Not like you could really hear him if he yelled back Dean thinks sadly.
Maybe Sam didn't come out into the forest? Maybe he wandered around to that diner that was a few blocks away.
Tugging his jacket closer to him, Dean’s about to turn around and head back when he hears it.
The sound was faint but there’s no mistaking who it is. “Sam...” and God damn Sam sounds terrified.
“Sammy, where are you?!” Dean shouts back.
The screaming just keeps coming though. Dean’s heart threatens to stop at the sound. “Hold on, I'm coming!”
Running through the thickened forest in rain isn't easy.
His boots keep sliding on mud, branches keep scratching at his face and he stumbles over multiple roots.
Dean’s on a mission though. He has one thought in mind, get to Sam and get to him NOW.
The screaming continues until Dean can hear Sam become hoarse.
Almost there Dean thinks as the hoarse yells become louder and louder. “Sammy!” Dean skids to a halt and stares at the sight.
His brother’s sitting on the ground, mud caked to his face and clothes, his hair hanging wetly around his neck but the most heart-breaking thing is, it honest to God looks like Sam’s having a temper tantrum.
His long legs flail about and hit the ground, despite the darkness Sam's cheeks shine brightly with tears.
Dean feels his throat close up. “Sammy?” Dean asks cautiously not wanting to spook Sam.
Sam doesn’t seem to hear him, still crying and flailing around in a fit.
Dean cautiously approaches his upset brother and bends down in the mud. He takes hold of Sam's spastic arms and holds them tight against his body. “Sammy? You hearing me?”
“I want to go home...” Sam whispers miserably.
Dean's eyebrows draw together in concern and sympathy. “Ok, we'll go home but you have to calm down, alright?”
Sam nods and shakes as a cold wind blows past. Dean then realizes that Sam isn't wearing a jacket and his skin’s like ice. “Sammy, why'd you come out here with no jacket, you're freezing.”
Dean tries his best to rub up and down Sam's arms to warm them up but he knows the best thing would be to get him out of the rain.
Sam's brows furrow like he really doesn’t know why he was outside himself. “My head hurts.” He finally admits quietly.
“Did you hit your head?” Dean feels around Sam's hair and winces when Sam gasps. He’s got a good sized lump but nothing too bad. “Alright, let's get you inside, yeah?”
Before Dean can get Sam up, Sam desperately scrambles for Dean's shirt, grabbing onto the material for dear life. Dean settled his hand atop Sam's. “Sammy?”
“Do-don't leave me again! Don't leave me with him, please!” Tears begin to fall down Sam's face again until he burrows his face into Dean's shirt.
Dean swallows and settles his hands onto Sam's back and hugs him. “I won't leave you again.” Dean promises. “Calm down Sammy.” Dean shushes him gently and despite the rain. he holds on for all his might.
After a few minutes, Dean hauls Sam up and supports him when he begins to buckle. Sam's body hangs off him in exhaustion and they barely managed to trek back to the motel without Sam full on passing out.
When Dean’s busy stripping Sam of his wet clothes, Sam grasps his wrist and stops him.
Dean watches as Sam's throat works to swallow before he finally speaks. “I understand why you killed Amy Dean... and I'm not mad at you... just don't lie to me, please?” Sam's eyes mist over with tears and Dean figures at the moment, all of Sam's normal walls have crumbled but Dean can't help patting Sam's hand reassuringly.
“I won't, I promise.” Sam nods his head and close his eyes again.
Dean may be a lot of things: a hypocrite, alcoholic, liar, asshole, hell you could even call him a quitter since he was very close to just giving up, but one thing always remained true, he was a brother before anything else and he took that job more seriously than anything else in his life.
Dean watches as Sam settles into sleep, finally giving into exhaustion. Dean combs his fingers through Sam's drying hair and silently promises, come hell or high water, he’s going to fix his little brother.
The End
Author:cherry916
Beta: strgazr04 &howdy-sam
Warnings: hell memories, mentions of non-con
Rating: R
A/N: This was written for the ohsam fic challenge for THIS prompt. For klutzy_girl
Summary: With the hell memories crowding around him 24/7, Dean out drinking away the night and Amy's face burning bright behind his eyes, he had to break some time.
Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again
You'll just come back running
Holding your scarred heart in hand
It's all the same
And I'll take you for who you are
If you take me for everything
And do it all over again
It's all the same
Dean's out drinking. It isn't really any surprise to Sam.
After he discovered Dean's little lie (which was totally NOT so little by the way) and walked away, he knew that ultimately he'd be walking straight back to Dean. Back to the only family he ever really had.
It's not the lie that hurts. To be honest, Dean and he have lied so much to each other Sam's gotten used to it by now, it's the idea behind it. Sam asked Dean to trust him, treat him as an equal and trust that Sam made the right decision.
It's the betrayal that hurts worse than anything else. It stings down deep into his heart until he's gasping for air, begging the pain to quit.
Could he really be trusted anyway?
Sam rubs at his aching head and does his best to focus on his laptop. The motel they're staying in is of the shitty variety. The same old cockroaches and smelly sheets, the leaky ceiling and noisy air conditioner that drove them both insane at night.
Nothing out of the ordinary here.
Except the ironic twist of fate that everything is out of the ordinary. Everything seems to be wrong and Sam quite honestly doesn’t know how to make them right.
Ain't that the truth Sam chuckles softly to himself. His whole life has been a whirlwind of wrong with him trying to figure out how to make it all right.
“Fuck...” Sam groans and rubs at his sore eyes again. He checks the bed side clock; bright neon red numbers flashing 2:45 stare back at him.
It’s late. He should go and find Dean, make sure he isn't drowning in his own vomit or shoving his foot down his mouth like he usually does at bars. But Sam just doesn't have the energy to move, he's lethargic and anxious at the same time. His nerves are on high alert, he feels jittery and disorientated. His mind never giving him rest or reprieve.
Amy's face flashes before his eyes again and he has to dig his hands into his eye sockets to make her picture go away. It hurts. Burns worse than anything else and he can't figure out why she does.
Amy was of course a monster. Dean did the right thing... didn't he?
Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was digging up old wounds that Sam tried so hard to heal.
“You're a monster.”
“If it's supernatural, we kill it.”
“You're not you anymore, and there's no going back.”
Sam shakes his head to get rid of the bad memories and when he opens his eyes again, there in the corner stands Lucifer looking highly smug.
“Go away.” Sam mumbles gently, turning to face the other direction. He finds it ludicrous that he's actually talking to his hallucination but what else is new?
“Oh, Sam. I'm hurt.” Lucifer mock hurts, putting a hand to his heart. As if he even had one.
Sam rolls his eyes and pays attention to his laptop again, trying his best to ignore the big elephant in the room. That being freaking Satan sitting around like a long lost pal!
“Come on Sammy you know it's not wise to ignore me.”
Sam feels his spine stiffen and wishes Lucifer's cruel words didn’t haunt him. Memories start to emerge and Sam closes his eyes and prays to keep them back.
“You know it's true.” Lucifer whispers in that eerily sweet voice. Suddenly Lucifer isn't in the corner anymore, he's right behind Sam with his hands roaming over his stiff shoulders.
Sam flinches and leaps off the chair knocking it over. “Stay back!” He warns. Not that he has any leverage at the moment.
Lucifer smirks but stays where he is. “What? If I remember correctly you liked that.”
Sam swallows and tries not to let it show how much Lucifer is affecting him.
Cold hands roaming his naked body, groping and pulling as they go along...
“No... no!” Sam shakes his head and pulls at his hair a little bit. Pieces come out and his scalp stings but it grounds him. Stone number one... Sam reminds himself. Just until Dean gets here...
Lucifer smirks again, that one smirk that always sent shivers up Sam's spine, always made him tighten with anticipation of another hit. Sam's hand is mostly healed so no amount of pushing on it or pressing on it causes pain anymore.
“Oh you don't remember? Well I remember specifically the massages I used to give you...”
“Shut up.” Sam warns with deadly calm.
“No, I think you need some reminding. Remember my hands gliding over your sweaty body? Huh? You would purr like a cat.” Lucifer smiles like he's enjoying reliving the memory. As if that wasn't the lowest time of Sam's existences.
Stone number one. Stone number one. Stone number one. Sam chants over and over again trying to get Lucifer's words out of his head. Keep the memories back but too many are threatening to flood in and overwhelm him. The meagre blockage is breaking and it feels like absolute hell all over again.
His breathing becomes shorter as his heart constricts painfully. “Stop... please.”
“Stop? Remember what I told you Sammy.” Lucifer walks up slowly to where Sam is standing. He doesn't even have the energy to flinch away or move when Lucifer strokes through his hair. “Stop doesn't exist in my vocabulary . There is no ‘stopping’ to me.”
“Besides,” Lucifer bends down low, his mouth right above Sam's ear. “You never told me to stop before, so I assume you enjoyed it all.”
Sam flinches back at that. The early days, weeks, months inside the cage was almost unexpected for Sam.
Sam's eyes widen as memories come flooding in.
The worst part is he doesn't know where Adam is.
The first few weeks were spent asking endless questions about Adam no matter how many times Lucifer told him to leave it alone.
After that he just gave up with trying. He knew that Lucifer would never give him a straight answer anyway.
The cage was... well dark. It was lit by a few flames but nothing like Sam pictured. It was just dark and oppressing. The silence made it unbearable to even think about without going insane.
The worst was the echo.
Skin slapping skin, Sam's screams bouncing off the walls, always coming back to him with full force.
The absolute worst was the moans, grunt, sounds of...
Sam's eyes snap open and he moans in agitation. Too many memories were trying to break through and barge in on him.
Lucifer just smiles and strokes his hair again, in an almost gentle manner. “You remembering now my pet?”
Sounds of Lucifer's words whispered to him. Telling him he was nothing, nothing more than a whore, a dirty play thing. That Dean would have done this a long time ago if he wasn't disgusted with the idea of Sam.
Sam let the words wash over him without a blink. It became harder and harder to believe that Lucifer was wrong. It just became easier to accept it, to let Lucifer do what he wanted, hell, even enjoy it at times.
Day by day Sam's humanity slowly dwindled away until he could barely muster up the energy to even remember who he was.
“NO!” Sam screams and pushes at the hallucination.
Nothing’s there when his arms hit air so he tumbles backwards, hitting his head on the way down. “No...” Sam moans and squirms on the floor, trying his best to get back up.
“Poor baby fall down?”
Sam's eyes blink open to see not Lucifer this time... but Dean.
“Dean...?”
“Always expecting me to pick your ass up huh? Well sorry, I'm done picking up your sorry ass.” Dean sneers cruelly, his boot coming down to hit Sam on his stomach.
The air leaves Sam’s lungs in a quiet gasp as he curls himself into a small ball. “Dean…” Sam sobs. He thought they were over this, that maybe Dean didn't hate him. That seems to be wishful thinking as well. Obviously Dean doesn’t trust him, doesn’t trust his judgement and why should he? Sam’s a freak incorporated and is barely hanging on.
He should have seen it all coming really. It's just pathetic that he didn't.
Sam feels a tear escape and wipes it away angrily. Staggering up off the floor, he stumbles into the desk with a pained grunt.
“What? Poor baby Sammy leaving again?” Dean snorts and Sam flinches at the cruel sound. “Typical, always running away from your problems. I didn't really expect anything less.”
Sam stifles his sobs and closes his eyes against the pang of memories.
“Come on Sam, you know it and I know it. Dean's tired of taking care of your sorry ass. Hell I bet he's dancing on your grave, if they even gave you one.”
Sam manages to stumble all the way to the motel door. He pauses at the doorway, hoping upon hope that Dean says something like 'just kidding' but stifling silence meets him.
It’s the nail in the coffin for Sam.
Walking out the motel room door, Sam is so riddled with grief and angst that he doesn’t even stop to put on his jacket.
The rain that has suddenly begun to fall pelts him in the face until his shaggy brown hair sticks to his eyes.
“I'm just a sorry pain in the ass.” Sam mumbles. “No one wants me around.” Making his way through the parking lot with no idea to where he’s going, he figured it’s best to just disappear. And the dark forest behind the motel is the perfect place.
Dean lets the burn of whiskey slither down his throat and fill his gut.
The bar’s surprisingly empty. Only a few patrons at the bar and a few scattered around the tables. Dean could care less really, it's not like he gives a shit now anyway.
Amy's face is still burned behind his eyelids and the whiskey isn’t helping. All it's managing to do is give him a fucking headache.
Rubbing at his sore temples, Dean puts pressure on them in hopes of dwindling the ache, but the pain just ratchets up more.
“Fuck...” Dean moans.
“Hey sugar maybe you’ve had enough for tonight huh?”
Dean looks up with bleary eyes at the bartender. She’s tall and thin, definitely in her forties and not the prettiest thing he's ever seen but Dean isn't ashamed to say, that if the circumstances weren't so fucking messed up, he'd probably hit that.
“Maybe.” Dean mumbles softly. He doesn’t think he can face Sam just yet. Though maybe he should at least head on out of the bar before he falls on his ass.
The bartender pursues her lips as if she wants to say more but she walks off without a word.
Dean's thankful for that, he doesn't really feel like warding off a motherly bartender.
Pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, he slaps a 20 on the bar and leaves. His gait is surprisingly straight for someone who sat and downed 2 hours worth of liquor, but Dean really doesn't have it in him to remark on the miracle of him being somewhat sober.
He doesn't really have the energy to even breathe anymore.
Ran hits him in the face and he stares up at the sky like it's mocking him. The sky, which was a vibrant blue earlier, now is filled with gray and Dean thinks it's quite fitting.
Turning his wrist over Dean winces at seeing 3:56. Sam’s probably crawling the walls with worry. If Sam is even still there... the thought terrifies him, sends a chill down his spine and leaves him feeling empty but all he can really think is that he brought it on himself.
He did this.
He killed Amy even after Sam told him he had it covered, then he went and accused Sam of being a dick and not being able to do the job. Sometimes Dean just wishes he wasn't such a loud mouth.
He has been known to speak before even thinking but that's really no excuse.
Sighing, Dean hurriedly unlocks the Impala and hops in. The faster he gets to the motel and passes out... the better.
Sam begins to shiver from the monumental rain. Branches whip back and slice open his face. Lucifer taunts how pretty he always looked in red, which makes him shiver even more, but for different reasons.
He really has no idea where he’s going. It’s dark outside and the gray clouds only obscured the moon. He should be worried that he’s wandered out here alone without any protection but at that moment, he wasn't thinking too straight.
“Hey baby maybe we can share body heat? You're looking kinda cold.”
Sam grits his teeth against the 'no' that’s on the tip of his tongue. Lucifer’s just messing with him, and no matter how many times Sam says no or stop... Lucifer always continues.
He wipes his wet hair from his face again and trudges onwards. To where... well that’s still uncertain. Besides, no matter where he goes, Lucifer will always be there. That thought scares him more than anything else ever could.
Dean trudges up to the motel room in silence. The rain’s still pouring down hard so he has his head down, trying to escape it the best he can.
So that was why that he doesn’t notice that the motel door is open until the last second.
His hunter instincts are on instant alert. He reaches for the spot his gun’s usually kept but he’s met with nothing.
“Fuck.” Dean whispers furiously. He’s left it in the Impala.
Peeking around the corner Dean whispers, “Sam?”
Looking inside, the room’s empty. The light’s on, the laptop’s laid open on the table and a chair’s knocked over.
No Sam though.
His heart starts to thud in his chest as he enters the room. “Sammy?” Dean whispers brokenly. It's not like Sam’s around to hear or answer him. Maybe he finally packed up and left, done with Dean's shit and lies. Dean wouldn't blame him.
Except his heart just won’t accept that. Call it wishful thinking or his ever present big brother instincts, but Dean knows something is amiss.
Scanning the room with his trained eyes, he notices Sam's bags are still there, as are his own. In the same spot they dumped them in before Dean hoped skipped to the bar.
Walking around the chair, Dean bends down and immediately notices blood on the yellow carpet. It isn't much. Maybe only the side of a penny, but it’s enough.
Sam didn't leave of his own free will; either he was taken by force or...
Dean swallows and shakily stands up. Or Sam’s hallucinations were behind his disappearance. The room is just too neat for Dean to believe that someone took Sam.
Despite being hell bound, Dean knows Sam would have fought like hell (no pun intended). The room would have been a disaster zone. So that only leaves one option.
“Damn it Sammy.” Dean whispers, rubbing his face. Walking back out to the doorway, Dean trys looking across the dark parking lot, but all he can see is rain and more rain.
No Sam.
“SAMMY!”
Sam trips over a root and plants his face in the wet mud. He isn't the most graceful man but even for him, this was ridiculous.
Lucifer snickers and taunts him in the background but Sam does his best to ignore him. He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, but soon regrets it as pain spikes through the back of his skull. He winces and swallows back the bile threatening to escape.
He isn't sure how far out he is, what with the way he's been tripping and falling over himself, but he figures not very far.
“Do you need help up?”
To anyone else it would seem like a genuine gesture, but Sam knows better. Lucifer always has a sinister meaning behind everything.
“No.” Sam grumbles.
“Are you sure?” Lucifer bends down anyway and Sam does his best to bat Lucifer’s hands away but his limbs are uncoordinated and weak.
Lucifer's hands slide over Sam’s icy skin and warm him up. His palms were always so smooth, it makes Sam twitch. Dean's palms were always course and callused, from working with them since childhood.
That's when Sam's reminded this isn't Dean.
“Get off me!” Sam knocks the invisible hands away as best as he can. It isn't until a few minutes later that Sam realizes those hands he's fighting with are actually moss hanging from a branch.
Lucifer is nowhere in sight. “What...?” Sam turns around on the cold ground and feels the mud slip through his fingers.
“Sammy!”
Sam furrows his brows in confusion. “Dean?”
“Dean doesn't want you remember Sammy.”
Lucifer is here again, sitting next to him like they're on a picnic and not sitting on a cold muddy ground out in the middle of nowhere.
“But-” Sam's tongue pokes out in concentration. He tries to remember when Dean said he doesn't want him but can't.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer gives him a bright smile and suddenly Sam is transported back to his memories.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer used to say before he cracked the whip down on his quivering back.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer chanted as he pried Sam's fingernails off.
“Trust me Sammy.” Lucifer crooned as he guided his hardened cock into Sam's bruised hole.
Sam's eyes snap open and he screams.
“God fucking damn it.” Dean grumbles as he trudges through the forest, branches and leaves hitting him in the face as he goes. “Stupid hallucinating brothers.”
After Dean hugged the stupid bastard, he was going to kick his ass for giving him a heart attack. After searching for ten minutes for his wayward brother, he thinks he may actually have a real heart attack. The rain continues to pound down, the minutes tick by and still no sign of Sam anywhere.
Not like Dean has great visibility to begin with.
“Sammy!” Dean shouts again, cupping his hands around his mouth. It’s hard to get his voice to sound louder than the rain and every time he opens his mouth, rain water washes in making him spit and gag it out.
Not like you could really hear him if he yelled back Dean thinks sadly.
Maybe Sam didn't come out into the forest? Maybe he wandered around to that diner that was a few blocks away.
Tugging his jacket closer to him, Dean’s about to turn around and head back when he hears it.
The sound was faint but there’s no mistaking who it is. “Sam...” and God damn Sam sounds terrified.
“Sammy, where are you?!” Dean shouts back.
The screaming just keeps coming though. Dean’s heart threatens to stop at the sound. “Hold on, I'm coming!”
Running through the thickened forest in rain isn't easy.
His boots keep sliding on mud, branches keep scratching at his face and he stumbles over multiple roots.
Dean’s on a mission though. He has one thought in mind, get to Sam and get to him NOW.
The screaming continues until Dean can hear Sam become hoarse.
Almost there Dean thinks as the hoarse yells become louder and louder. “Sammy!” Dean skids to a halt and stares at the sight.
His brother’s sitting on the ground, mud caked to his face and clothes, his hair hanging wetly around his neck but the most heart-breaking thing is, it honest to God looks like Sam’s having a temper tantrum.
His long legs flail about and hit the ground, despite the darkness Sam's cheeks shine brightly with tears.
Dean feels his throat close up. “Sammy?” Dean asks cautiously not wanting to spook Sam.
Sam doesn’t seem to hear him, still crying and flailing around in a fit.
Dean cautiously approaches his upset brother and bends down in the mud. He takes hold of Sam's spastic arms and holds them tight against his body. “Sammy? You hearing me?”
“I want to go home...” Sam whispers miserably.
Dean's eyebrows draw together in concern and sympathy. “Ok, we'll go home but you have to calm down, alright?”
Sam nods and shakes as a cold wind blows past. Dean then realizes that Sam isn't wearing a jacket and his skin’s like ice. “Sammy, why'd you come out here with no jacket, you're freezing.”
Dean tries his best to rub up and down Sam's arms to warm them up but he knows the best thing would be to get him out of the rain.
Sam's brows furrow like he really doesn’t know why he was outside himself. “My head hurts.” He finally admits quietly.
“Did you hit your head?” Dean feels around Sam's hair and winces when Sam gasps. He’s got a good sized lump but nothing too bad. “Alright, let's get you inside, yeah?”
Before Dean can get Sam up, Sam desperately scrambles for Dean's shirt, grabbing onto the material for dear life. Dean settled his hand atop Sam's. “Sammy?”
“Do-don't leave me again! Don't leave me with him, please!” Tears begin to fall down Sam's face again until he burrows his face into Dean's shirt.
Dean swallows and settles his hands onto Sam's back and hugs him. “I won't leave you again.” Dean promises. “Calm down Sammy.” Dean shushes him gently and despite the rain. he holds on for all his might.
After a few minutes, Dean hauls Sam up and supports him when he begins to buckle. Sam's body hangs off him in exhaustion and they barely managed to trek back to the motel without Sam full on passing out.
When Dean’s busy stripping Sam of his wet clothes, Sam grasps his wrist and stops him.
Dean watches as Sam's throat works to swallow before he finally speaks. “I understand why you killed Amy Dean... and I'm not mad at you... just don't lie to me, please?” Sam's eyes mist over with tears and Dean figures at the moment, all of Sam's normal walls have crumbled but Dean can't help patting Sam's hand reassuringly.
“I won't, I promise.” Sam nods his head and close his eyes again.
Dean may be a lot of things: a hypocrite, alcoholic, liar, asshole, hell you could even call him a quitter since he was very close to just giving up, but one thing always remained true, he was a brother before anything else and he took that job more seriously than anything else in his life.
Dean watches as Sam settles into sleep, finally giving into exhaustion. Dean combs his fingers through Sam's drying hair and silently promises, come hell or high water, he’s going to fix his little brother.
The End