I Don't Know How I Got Here.

Summary. . . . . . . . . . . A short extended scene to "Meet The New Boss" with a hint of spoilers for "Hello Cruel World."

Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . All characters belong to Kripke and the CW.


He walked quickly down the hallway, only one thing on his mind, getting to the storage closet, retrieving the blood, and getting back as fast as possible to make sure they didn't miss their deadline; they couldn't afford to, too many innocent lives were at stake, hell Cas' life was at stake. Reaching the closet, he opened the door and took out the jar Cas had said would be there. He turned without taking his eyes off the red viscous liquid, only realizing there was someone else in the room with him when a voice that terrorized his every thought rang out.

Everything around him stilled, his body and mind froze, only his heart pounded against his chest gave him any indication he was still alive. He tried to listen as Lucifer spoke, tried to answer, managing to squeak out "you're not real" only to totally lose it when his nemesis replied "no this, this is what's not real."

"You're lying." Sam managed to stutter out. "This is just another memory seeping through the cracks."

"Am I? Is it?"

"Yes." Sam tried to shout back, his voice breaking with lack of conviction. "I'm. . . . . . . . I'm free. . . . . . . . . . I'm with Dean. This isn't real. You're not real."

"Are you sure about that Sammy? How sure? How sure are you that this is not real? That this is not reality?" He moved to lean nonchalantly against the wall, his head crooking to one side, tilting slightly to look up at Sam as he added. "This is all imaginary Sam; this place, your brother, Bobby, and Castiel. All made up by me. You're still in the cage Sam, you never got out, this is all just another form of torture, a way to mess even more with your mind, the best I've come up with yet."

"No! No! That's not true, it can't be true."

"Oh, but it is, and deep down you can feel that it is." He paused and moved his body away from the wall, coming to stand behind a frozen Sam once more, before adding. "Tell me Sammy, what do you think you have in your hands? What do you think is in that jar?"

"Purgatory and virgin blood."

"Hmmmmm, really? The things your feeble minded brain comes up with."

"What do you mean? What is it?" Sam was panicking now, a shiver of dread snaking its way throughout his body, as a thought entered his mind; a thought he hoped wasn't true.

"Why, its demon blood Sam; thick with that power you crave, and I want you to drink it, I need you to drink it."

"What? Why?"

"Why do you think Sam? You were born to be my vessel, your whole life was manipulated and manufactured so that your destiny would always come true, would always lead you to me. Being down here, being locked up doesn't change that. I still want to ride your meat suit Sammy."

"No! No! It's not real. It's not real." Sam's right hand went to his head, trying to massage away the confusion he felt there, but it was no use, Lucifer's face, his voice, his laughter, swirled around him, confusing him all the more. He relaxed his hand that still gripped tightly to the jar, moving to release it and bring his other hand up to his pounding head, but a pestering thought stopped him. He stood there, eyes blinking rapidly, mouth opening and closing, what if Lucifer was lying? What if this whole conversation was unreal? What if the jar really did contain the blood they needed to open the doorway to Purgatory? He couldn't be sure of anything anymore; couldn't rely on his addled mind to tell him what was real and or not; couldn't be of any use to Dean and Bobby whilst he was like this. Placing the jar of the floor, he turned quickly and fled Lucifer's image and voice dogging him all the way.


"Son of a bitch!" Dean ground out, his teeth bared, his jaws clenched so tightly he swore he could feel bones grinding. His voice echoed down empty, cavernous corridors, almost mocking him, daring him to shout out his brother's name; but he held his tongue, knowing that to do so would garner him no results. Sam was long gone, he could feel it, and Dean had no idea where, or even why his sibling had deserted them. A debate fleetingly passed through his mind, and he glanced once more down the dim and dank passageway before reluctantly turning and sprinting back the other way. Time, was after all, of the essence.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby inquired as Dean returned; jar in hand but minus the younger Winchester. "Is he okay? Did something happen? Has he had an incident?"

"I don't know!" Dean practically growled back.

"You don't know what? You don't know if he's okay? Or you don't know where he is?"

"Both!" Dean answered, not looking once at the older hunter, instead concentrating upon getting the blood sigils painted right upon the grime coated tiled walls.

"Dean. . . . . . . . . ." Bobby stopped the questions that desperately wanted to be spilled from within him, as Dean finally turned to face him; his face a stony stoic mask, but his eyes shimmering with a combination of fear and guilt.

"Bobby don't!"

"We should go find him, he could be remembering, he could be hurting."

"I know Bobby! God damn it, I know! But you heard Death, if we don't do this now, we won't get another chance. We have to put these souls back, if we don't who knows what will become of Cas, hell he could die and who knows how many others along with him."

"And what of Sam? He could die too; we don't know what these memories coming back will do to him. We don't know if he's strong enough to withstand them."

"I know that! But I also know that Sam would want us to finish this first, rather than look for him. He'd rather I make sure that the souls are returned, that Cas is safe, that nobody else dies, before I look for him."

"You're right! You're right, it is what Sam would want, but I aint gotta like it. C'mon, it's time.


Sam's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, yet he felt nothing. The darkened scenery rushed past him as the stolen vehicle sped through the night, yet he saw nothing of it, his mind caught in yet another memory, instead of driving along, he was falling; falling into the hole, dropping down through the layers of the Earth, to the cage that lay open and awaiting him, to the torture he knew was to come. He wanted to scream, but he was falling so fast, and the air was rushing past him so quickly, it was all he could do to breathe.

He felt the change in the air, felt it gradually get hotter and hotter, could sense the terrifying fear and murderous hate and carnivorous lust. His arms began to flail in a vain effort to stop his descent, he couldn't do this, he'd made a mistake, he wanted to go back; but it was too late, he hit the floor hard, bones breaking, blood spewing from his mouth as all air was expelled from his lungs, but he had little time to scream as Lucifer was ripped and torn from his body and re-entered into his old vessel, and the two angels' assault of him began.


"Sam! Sammy! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dean, I don't know how I got here?"

A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . Please feel free to let me know what you think, does this feel as though it needs to be longer?. I'm having a crisis with my writing at the moment, and I need the boost in confidence to let me know I'm still worth reading. Peanut x