Authors Note: Hey all! This will be my first posted story. It's been kicking around on my laptop for a while now and I've finally found the courage to post it. So let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome :)

Story title is from Metallica - The Unforgiven II

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Supernatural.

Summary: Sam's falling apart. Lucifer won't leave him alone. The memories are coming back. And to top it all off, Dean is nowhere to be found.


Sam jerked awake, opening his eyes to darkness. Breathing hard, he sat up and put his head in his hands. Just a dream, he reminded himself. It's over. I'm not in the pit anymore.
"Oh Sammy boy, it's far from over." Sam jerked, eyes widening as he looked around in the darkness. "Over here." His head swivelled until he saw a dark figure standing in the moonlit window.

"You're not real." Sam said determinedly. His voice wavered a bit. His heart was pounding in his chest.
"You sure about that?"
Sam bowed his head again, rocking slightly. "Not real, not real, not real," he chanted.

"You know, we had so much fun together…" Lucifer mused. The shadow shifted and straightened from where it had been leaning against the windowsill. Sam watched it out of the corner of his eye, a shiver involuntarily running down his spine.
"Not real, not real, not real,"
"You should have stayed Sam. We would have had a lot more fun. All the slicing. The cutting… And best of all, the screaming."
"Not real, not real," Sam's voice was barely a whisper. He looked up as Lucifer approached him. Resisting the urge to flee. Forcing his trembling body to remain still.

He was holding a knife.

Sam's breath caught in his throat. He knew that knife.

Vivid memories of hours upon hours of being slowly cut to pieces with that very knife invaded his mind. A whimper escaped his lips and he scrambled off the other side of the bed, away from the devil. Lucifer ran a finger along the blade. "You remember." He stated.
Sam felt his panic rising. He needed to stop this. "You're not real!" he cried out. "Dean?" He called desperately.
"Dean's not here Sam."
Sam's looked over at his brother's bed and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a mound of blankets.
"No Sam. Just blankets."
Sam shook his head. "Dean?" He reached for the lamp and flipped it on.

Sam cringed when he saw Lucifer's pockmarked face. "Not real," he murmured to himself. "Not anymore."
He looked at Dean's bed. Lucifer was between Sam and his brother. Sam froze. The devil hadn't been lying. Dean's bed was empty. Just a pile of blankets. He glared at Lucifer. "What'd you do to Dean?"
"Nothing Sam. How could I do anything? I'm not real, remember?" he leered.
Sam shook his head, trying to clear it. His heart was pounding. Where was Dean?

Sam's gaze roamed from the door to the devil standing across from him. Would he let him by? He took a step forward. Lucifer mirrored his movement, stepping towards the end of the bed. He fingered the knife carefully. "I always keep it clean," he mused. Sam shivered but stood his ground.
"You're not real." He repeated.
Lucifer sighed. "And I thought we were done with that..." Another sigh. "Sam, Sam, Sam… How many times do I need to tell you? I'm here for you. I'm just as real as you are. And I'm not going anywhere." Lucifer offered a broad smile. "So get used to it kiddo." As if to prove his point, he snapped his finger and the lamp went out with a pop, plunging the room into darkness once again.

Sam shook his head again, trying to clear it. He rubbed at the bandage on his hand. The sharp pain was often enough to make the devil go away. He closed his eyes for a moment and pressed a thumbnail under the bandage. He felt blood well up and let go with a quiet gasp. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Nothing. The devil was gone. He sighed in relief and relaxed, shoulders slumping slightly. He focused on slowing his erratic breathing.
A breath tickled his ear. "Boo."

At the quiet voice, Sam jumped a foot in the air. He spun quickly and found Lucifer standing beside him, a smug smile on his face. He panted as he backed away, rubbing at his hand frantically. The pain was there. So why wasn't Lucifer gone? Lucifer took a step forward, knife in hand. Sam stepped back, eyes glued to the knife. "Such good times we had…" The devil said. "Don't you miss it?" he leered. Sam backed up until his back hit the wall. His eyes were wide with fear, and his palm was raw and bloody from where he was pressing against the cut. The bandage had come off and fallen to the floor so it was bleeding freely.

"Ahh Sammy. Do you really think you can escape me?" Suddenly the devil lunged with the knife and Sam fell to the ground, his back hitting the wall. He scrambled away until he was wedged into the corner. In his mind he could see the many times that Lucifer had done this to him. He could still feel the white-hot pain of the blade cutting into his flesh. He remembered the agony as blood welled. Knowing that if he weren't in Hell he'd be dead by now… But there had been no escape. And he knew there wasn't going to be one now.

Sam curled in on himself, hiding his face and rocking slowly. What if this was real? What if this was just another game? He'd done that so many times. Let Sam believe he was free. He'd really believed it this time. He thought he'd been with Dean again. Thought he'd had his big brother back.

Sam was stupid.

So, so stupid.

How could he have ever thought that Lucifer would let him go?

He was never going to escape.