Chapter 6

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The next morning, Sam slumped into a seat at the kitchen table with heavy bags under his eyes.

"Are you feeling unwell, Sam?" Cas asked, a pinched expression between his brow.

Sam rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Just tired. Had another visit from Lucifer last night."

"Oh?" Dean asked, setting a cup of coffee down for his brother. "What did he say this time?"

Sam grimaced. "He said he'll only talk to me. You two aren't allowed to come along."

"What?" Dean growled. "No way am I sending you down there by yourself!"

"We don't have any other choice, Dean," Sam mumbled, sounding far more exhausted than usual. "I really don't want to argue about this with you. I don't have the energy for it."

The fight drained out of Dean's shoulders and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard Hotch's voice in the back of mind repeating, "communication, communication, communication." Just like with Cas, if Dean wanted him and his brother to be on the same page, he needed to express himself with words and not just come off as aggressive and dismissive. Damnit.

He sighed heavily and walked over to place both hands on Sam's shoulders, tightening his grip so his brother would look him in the eye. "I'm not trying to pick a fight, Sam, I'm not. I just -" he hesitated. "I remember Hell. I remember every second of those goddamn forty years. When I had to see Alastair again..." Dean stepped back and brought his hand to his mouth, fighting off the bile that rose in his throat.

"I've never been more terrified in my entire life. The thought of you having to face Lucifer again?" He shook his head. "I'm scared for you."

The room was quiet until Sam sprang up from his chair, which clattered to the ground from the force, and wrapped his long arms around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in for a crushing hug. His brother clung to him while his enormous body shook, and Dean patted his back in an awkward attempt at comfort. "It's okay, Sammy. I've got you."

"Thank you," Sam whispered close to his ear. "Thank you."

Dean made eye contact with Cas from across the room, his lips tugging upwards slightly when he saw his boyfriend's expression, full of concern and pride. Big softie.

When Sam pulled away, his brown eyes were red-rimmed and shining. "It's the only way, Dean. I hate this just as much as you do, but Lucifer won't talk if you two are with me."

"I know, Sammy," Dean sighed heavily, clapping him on the shoulder. "We'll be here."

XX

The Cage was just as horrifying as he remembered. The reinforced iron bars stood in the center of a dark cavern as black, heavy shadows flickered from the light of the flames lining the curved walls. Crowley and Rowena stood at least thirty yards away, keeping their distance from the figure hungrily pacing the edges of the cage. Blood red eyes shone through the darkness, fixated on Sam and the urge to recoil hit him even harder than anticipated.

Fuck, Dean was right, he shouldn't be here. Sam never thought he'd have to return to Hell, at least not in this lifetime. He'd believed that after everything he and his brother had done for humanity, for Heaven, that God might reward him somehow. Maybe one day he'd be allowed to rest with his brother and Cas by his side. Maybe there'd be a girl that understands his demons and lifestyle and still love him for it.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It was all bullshit, just like Dean always said. Because now he was in Hell, trying to build up the confidence to face his torturer once again. The same monster who ripped his soul to shreds over and over and over again for one hundred and twenty years, or ten months up on the surface. His worst nightmares were standing right in front of him yet again, only this time it was real.

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