"Waking Up."

SUMMARY: Tag to "Repo Men" Letting the Devil back in.


RATING: T for language and imagery

SUMMARY: I freakin loved Repo Men, it was all so dark and creepy, and well written.


"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

-William Shakespeare

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family"

-Anthony Brandt


It doesn't go away.

Nothing Sam is trying is making it fade.

The fire is real – the laughter – it is not flimsy set dressing. It is all solid through and through.

The flames are licking at the bedside, but they are not burning through the sheets; they seem to hop over it all to where Sam was sitting on the bed, kissing around the edges of his jeans, he can hear them fizzling, feel the heat of the fire, like a sensation of ants marching down his jeans. The fire reflecting in his eyes like he was being burned from the inside out. He can hear the flames fizzling

Lucifer laughs, low deep, heavy. The body he wears thrown back from the force of such a raucous sound, like he is playing with the best toy imaginable.

"Sammy," he is down on his haunches beside the bed, hands resting on his legs, staring at Sam.

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and Sam flinches. He can hear the snap with such piercing clarity that it is like a fired gunshot.

And, this makes the devil grin, that coy half amused, completely terrifying grin. "Look how well I've already got you whipped boy," the grin merges into a chuckle. "Damn, it's good to be back!" he stands back up and readjusts his position, until he is kneeling right next to Sam. "I gotta tell ya kid, that whole Silent Bob act of yours was getting a little hurtful." Lucifer pouts, bottom lip of the man he took over sticking out. "But, I'm willing to forgive you for your little snub- Because you gave me my bitch back." He leans over and traces a hand over the top of Sam's head, the skin there is dry, cracking. "My pretty, pretty little bitch."

The touch itself – it's cold, freezing, like solid ice. It ripples another shudder through Sam. His entire body shakes from that one starting point.

Lucifer's pout grows more pronounced, the way a viper's fangs become more barred, slowly and with hisses – like a seduction. "Aww bunkmate – don't be like that," the brittle fingers tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. "I already told you, you let me come back. It's all good."

Sam's hands dig into the mattress, like he would tear it like flesh from a carcass. He can feel the fire, the burning creeping up his legs. It's not real, but he can feel blistering the skin. And he can't make it fade – can't make it fade-

"Sammy-" A finger hooks itself under his chin, and his eyes are being raised to the face of the Devil. His eyes flash from brown to an almost translucent yellow with silted pupils. "I already told you kid, I forgive you," those fingers move to trace the edges of Sam's lips, and it is all Sam can do not to vomit.

"You were always a self deprecating one," Lucifer says with a sigh like Sam was a petulant child he was telling to come out of time out.

"Sam," Lucifer lowers his hand and stares at Sam like he's just being difficult. "C'mon, He looks down at his cooked pea green shirt and plaid. "I got all dressed up for this, you can't just ignore me – that's rude."

Sam hasn't moved, it's like the words are a neuro toxin, paralyzing him, but still allowing him to watch and feel everything.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," hands are tracing the tops of his arms, and with each tracing Sam swallows down bile like it's water. "What am I going to do with you?" there is a 'shaking tsking head tone' in the devil's words. Like he was scolding a child, or a jilted lover.

A smile replaces the pout. "Come on," he holds out his arms and waves his hands like he wants to call Sam to him. "Give us a kiss," Lucifer's mouth opens to reveal a forked tongue that hisses out of his mouth like a snake.

This time Sam jumps, bumping into the cheap nightstand, knocking over the one of the glasses there. It breaks with a shatter.

"Sammy," Dean is still face down on the other bed, he hasn't even turned his head. Exhaustion from being tied up and worked over by a serial killer and a demon have won out over body movement "But he heard the noise. "You break something?"

Lucifer places a finger to his lips and uses his other hand to pantomime crossing his heart.

Sam flicks his eyes from Lucifer to Dean on the bed. "Sorry, just a glass."

"Clean it up," Dean mumbles with a moth full of mattress padding and motel sheets.

"Yeah," Sam says quickly, with a shake of his head.

Dean takes this answer as satisfactory and rolls his right arm underneath his chin, and settles into a new position.

Sam watches this with all the expectancy of a new mother watching to see if her baby will settle. Dean is back asleep within moments.

Sam sees Lucifer give a satisfactory shrugging smile beside him. Sam swallows, trying not to swallow that smile too. He shrugs out of his jacket, and sweater, than reaches into his overnight bag for boxers and a clean white shirt. He takes these items into the bathroom.

Lucifer follows Sam's every move, two paces behind him with his hands behind his back like a curious child.

Sam closes the white door to the closet sized bathroom before Lucifer can come in, but it doesn't matter, a second later the Devil is there. He didn't want through the walls, he just materialized behind Sam's right shoulder when he turns to reach for the water handle for the shower.

Lucifer's hand is in the water, playing with the streams of the spray with his fingers, like he was testing the water temperature. "Not quite yet."

Sam hears it, but says nothing. He turns his back from the shower, letting the water heat up and strips off his white under shirt, letting it drop to the bathroom floor.

He turns back around to face the shower hand undoing the brown belt buckle hooked to his jeans.

Lucifer has stopped playing with the water, and turns to face Sam. Brown to yellow eyes flick up and down Sam and a low whistle comes. "Sam, bonne nuit."

Sam swallows thickly and hard, and clenches his jaw. He's out of the rest of his clothes and under the shower before he can see any more of that lingering gaze.

The water pressure isn't great, but it's stronger than most of the other places he stayed at, and it's hot. Sam scrubs himself down quickly with the block of soap. Steam billows from where he is standing, and he lets it envelope him like a sauna. His muscles are tied like overly worked knots on a rope, and he tries to let the heat unloosen them. He leans under the spray, bracing both arms against the front shower wall, letting the hot water roll down his back.

He can still see the devil's face his smirk as he walked along beside him in the night, hear himself talking to him.

180 years of being tortured in Hell had manifested itself into a schizophrenic hallucination of the vessel of Lucifer. And Sam had talked to it, asked him for advice to find his brother.

He kept him away for months.

But, tonight he turned back to him like he was an associate. He didn't even think about it, because his mind was overly full of wanting to find his brother. He had had worked over that woman at his hallucination's request – his voice glaring, thunderous.

He was concerned about Dean, that protective anger would have come out either way. But, it had been brought out, by the imaginary Devil, who seemed impressed at how angry Sam could be when provoked.

"Just the Two of us, we can make it if we try. Just the two of us we're building castles in the sky, just the two of us-" the whisper was right by his ear, over the spray over the water.

Sam raised his head up from the spray and sees him standing there, inside the shower with him. "You and I," Lucifer finishes the song and his smile pulls on his face.

Sam backs up, but it is a shower, and it is small, so he only has as step to go, pressed against the opposite wall.

"Analyze all you want, sweetheart. How you did this out of devotion for Dean, how you loved him enough to let the crazy back in." Lucifer is standing directly under the spray of the shower, his clothes aren't getting wet, nothing about him is getting wet. "I'm still back. You let me back in Sam, and I'm never ever leaving again."

Sam's back is sticking to the tile, his chest his tight, it feels like something is crushing it. He is paralyzed again.

There is no flame this time, no heat. Just him and the devil in a tiny motel shower.

Lucifer pulls something out of his jacket. Something iron and hooked and curved, like a hand held sickle. He touches the tip of hit to his pointer finger, twirling it, staring at the object like he is analyzing it. "You know, this is one of my favorite toys to use," He flicks his eyes back up to Sam, "Especially on you." Azaezel may have worked your brother over, but eventually Dean became just like the rest – a torturer. But you Sam," the smile moves from the iron thing up to him. He takes a step closer to Sam, who has nowhere else to go, "You were always a screamer." He slices downward on Sam's chest, ripping open a curved gash in his abs.

Sam screams, but it is only born a few seconds before Lucifer clamps a hand on his mouth, the other poising a finger back to his lips. "Shhh, Dean is sleeping." He singsongs, slices another gash down Sam's ribs, blood spills down his chest, making the water run bright red.

Sam is heaving on his breaths, his scream dies again, muffled under Lucifer's hand.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Lucifer slaps a hand to his knee in manic glee. "Yeah, baby!" He takes the iron sickle and hooks it over Sam's right eye, pulling the lid up. "Seeing the terror in those pretty green eyes of yours. You don't know how much I missed it Sammy." He descends the hook lower and slices again, a deeper gash then the rest, one that glistens a stream of white, of intestines.

He removes his hand from Sam's mouth and let's his scream fully be born.

And it is one of raw pain and pure terror.

That doesn't go unnoticed.


The pain is so blinding that it drops Sam to his knees. He grabs an arm to his gut, and he can feel the stickiness of blood coating his forearm.

Lucifer turns to the direction of the bathroom door. "Uh oh," he puts his hand over his mouth like an impish child. He kneels down next to Sam. "Now Dean will know you've spilled all your marbles again." He places a hand on Sam's chest, right above his wound, hard. It makes Sam scream again. "Sucks to be you."

The bathroom door is thrown open with a thunderous boom. "Sam!"

Lucifer places a hand to Sam's head. "You don't mind if I watch do you?" Lucifer stands up, and walks out of the shower just as Dean slides it open.

Brother and illusion pass each other on the way in and out of the shower.


Dean finds Sam crouched in almost a ball against the corner against the tile. Sam's face is almost completely hidden in his knees. "Sam!" Dean is hit with a spray of water before he remembers logic and cuts off the spray. His jeans have become soaked in those few seconds of spray, but he isn't thinking about that as he kneels down next to his brother.

"Hey!" Dean shakes Sam's shoulder, but he is clamped down like a vise, one long arm hooked around his stomach. "You hearing me?"

Sam reels from the touch like he's been shocked. He whips his head up and almost loses his balance on the loose tile, but catches himself just in time on what purchase he can find on the slippery tile behind him.

"Sam, hey!" Dean grabs his shoulder tighter to keep Sam upright. "What's wrong man?" Despite how ht the shower water was, Sam's skin is freezing, and it is almost as translucently pale. He observes Sam's arm still tightly grasped to his abdomen. "You hurt?" He moves to retract Sam's hand, but Sam's response to this was to grip himself tighter. "C'mere, let me look atcha."

"Here comes the FOIL plot, oh I'm so excited!" Lucifer says from where he is watching sitting up by the sink.

Dean is having to pull to get Sam's hand to come away from his stomach. "C'mon dude, let me see."

Dean finally removes Sam's arm, expecting to see gashes, evisceration, orblood, at least. Instead he find nothing, but pale wet ab muscle quaking under Sam's breathing.

"Dun dun dun," Lucifer sing songs.

Dean touches Sam's chest to be sure, palm flat to his brother's abdomen, but it comes back clean. "Sam," Dean doesn't know what the hell happened, but he doesn't think about that. "Hey," he pulls his brother's face up to him with one hand, and can feel the tremor running through Sam from just that one touch. Sam's eyes are huge, big saucer like, completely blown. "I gotcha buddy, alright?" he pets Sam's soaking wet hair, and Sam is almost barely responsive, but he seems to lean into the touch. Like he desperately needed the comfort and familiarity of it. "I gotcha." One arm goes around Sam's back and under his armpits, and he hauls his soaking wet brother to his feet, finding himself having to take on most of Sam's weight once their vertical.

"Easy Sammy," Dean says as they step slowly out of the slippery bathroom, one step about every three seconds. It's all Sam can seem to manage. It makes going back into the bedroom almost a 15 minute affair.

"Anybody order a big steaming bowl of cracked nuts?" Lucifer says from where he taken a seat on the other bed.

Finally Dean lowers Sam to the bed he was just sitting at. He crouches down, "You with me?"

Sam doesn't say anything, only breathes.

Dean observes this, categorizes this as only a big brother can. "I'm going to grab your clothes," Dean starts to pull away, but Sam snatches his wrist before he can move.

Dean feels the tug. Sam's eyes are raised up to his. He is breathing heavily, he still does not talk. But, Dean hears him. "Two minutes Sammy alright?"

He pulls out of the grip at the same moment Sam lets it go, watching Dean disappear for a moment into the bathroom.

Lucifer sits next to Sam on the bed. His gaze wanders to Sam's chest. "I really like playing with you Sammy," the voice is a lisp baby voice sound. "I'm super glad we're besties again." He rests his chin on Sam's shoulder.

Sam flinches.

"Whoa!" Dean grabs him before he can leap off the bed. "Take it easy, alright?" He tosses Sam's clean close on the bed, and takes the towel he has draped over his shoulder and wipes down Sam's back, then runs it through his hair, making the brown mass stick up. Finally when Sam is dry Dean eyes him, then the pile of clothes.

"You gonna get dressed now?"

Sam knows he should, but he can't seem to move at first. He tries to stand, but he is like a fledgling, wobbling out of the nest.

"Whoa," Dean says again, having to push him back down on the bed, before Sam pushes himself forward from gravity. "I'll take that as a 'no' Man, you never do anything by halves do you?" Dean snatches Sam's boxers from the bed. "You better not bitch that these are on wrong Sam, cause I'm not opening my eyes for this process."

Dean maneuvers Sam onto his back and slides his brother's boxers on him.

"Used to do this all the time with your diapers Sammy," Dean says with a teasing tone, but there is a worry in it because he is having to do something like this again because Sam couldn't do it for himself. He grabs Sam's clean shirt and slides it into the arm holes. "You were a freak for peek a boo."

Halfway through Dean sliding the shirt on his neck, Sam finishes it himself, sitting back up slowly.

Dean's hands waver near Sam, hovering. "You good now?" He waits for the answer, waits to see if it is satisfactory after finding your brother in almost complete shock on the shower floor.

Sam nods shakily. "Yeah," his voice has the consistently of someone who ate a cheese grater.

"You wanna tell me what the hell happened?" Dean asks, his voice is rough, but still concerned. "And, don't open your mouth and lie to me because I just hauled your cationic ass out of the shower and had to dress you."

"I'm fine," Sam said his famous line, using it, as always like a deflection.

"Yeah you are Sammy," Lucifer says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you look it," Dean's voice is hard, but it still bleeds concern. Sam's 6'4" body is hunched in on itself, in nothing but a thin t-shirt and faded boxers. His brother was far away from 'fine' "I'm serious Sam, if something's going on, I need to know about it-"

"Nothing's going on Dean," Sam says, his gaze tries not to look at Lucifer sitting coyly on the other bed, watching it all unfold. "I just – you were taken by a psycho serial killer who liked to be all up in a demon" Sam laughed, very very dryly. "- it's just been a rough day man."

Dean digested that. He knew that it was true. A crazy human with a penchant for demon filling – it was one for their books. But, Dean knew that wasn't really it. He had known Sam since birth, he knew that there was something more. "You're telling me. It's like I always say man, demon's I get, people are crazy."

"Sam swallowed down the lie he had just told Dean, " Lucifer narrates from the other bed. "His eyes shadows of a soul that died a long time ago. He hopes Dean can't hear the racing of his heart, or smell the scent of his crazy."

Dean eyes Sam, gauging to see how he really is vs what he says. "You sure you're alright? Cause you look like hell."

Lucifer's eyes lit up. "He said it, not me."

Sam's shrugs another laugh. "Nothing that some sleep won't cure."

"Amen to that bro," Dean agrees. He pats Sam's bare leg. "You need some help lying down or anything, cause once I'm back on that bed-"

Sam laughs again, pretends that this is all normal, that Lucifer hasn't come back around to his bed and is stroking the emptiness invitingly. "I'm good man, thanks."

Dean eyes him again, and there is a strong undercurrent it that gaze. Like he wants Sam to know something. Dean yawns hugely. "I'm just saying, Sammy, if you wake me up again, I'm putting you under-"

"Go to bed man," Sam cuts off.

It's all the encouragement Dean needs before he flops back down on his bed on his stomach. He is back to snoring in seconds.

Sam slides under the covers of his own bed, and lays on his side.

Lucifer's breath is in his ear as he leans over Sam's shoulder. "You wanna talk some more Sammy, or just cuddle?" His low laughter is back. This time he sings a Mariah Carey Song in Sam's ear, low and laugh tinged:

"I'm part of you indefinitely. Boy don't you know you can't escape me. Oh Darlin' cause you'll always be my baby.."

Sam clamps a hand to his ear, and tries to ignore all the laughter and the singing. The fire is back, and he knows he can't sleep.

He knows,

He doesn't know if he ever will again.

And some part of him is accepting that.

He let it back it, he brought it on himself.

He had to protect Dean, he cared more about his brother than own his sanity.

But, that didn't mean it didn't scare him.

That he wasn't afraid.

He never wanted to lose his mind.

He only wanted to save Dean.

"Oh Sammy," Lucifer leaning up over Sam, swirling the damp hair by his ear. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy-"

"Sammy, Sammy!"

Sam's eyes snapped open when something removed his hand from his face. Sam tried not to jump, and he doesn't even know if he succeeded.

"That's it man," Dean is standing there, looking rumpled and exhausted, but his eyes firm.

"Dean," Sam sits up, wiping at his eyes, pretending he had been asleep. "Man, will you lie back down? You just got out from demon central."

"Sam shut up, I've had enough of your crap" Dean snaps, and the words are so forceful that Sam feels them like a slap.

"Dean? What-"

Dean doesn't say it again, he just pushes at Sam. "Shove over."

Sam is too stunned to say anything at first. "Dean-"

"You heard me Sasquatch, move!" Dean snaps again.

Sam finally scoots over to the bed's other side, allowing Dean to "Dean, not, now I'm not in the mood."

Dean flops down on the now vacant side of the bed, and the look in his eyes are so hard that Sam immediately shuts up. "Stop with all the crap Sam, okay? Look man, I don't know what the hell happened to you back there. But I'm not gonna let you sit here and act like you're a poster boy for normal."

"Dean I already told you-"

"Sam," Dean bits his lip on a sigh, hand reeled back, like he was about to punch Sam for saying those words. When his eyes open, the intensity is still there, but something in them has shifted. "Something happened Sam. And you don't want to tell me fine. But, don't you lie to me and act like you're okay. Cause you're not. You're about as far away from okay as you can get-"

"Ooh," Lucifer says where he is back standing around in front of the bed "Bet that hurt like a bitch."

"Sam," Dean wipes a hand over his face. "Look man – whatever's going on with you – you're not dealing with it alone-

"Understatement of the year." Lucifer stage whispers behind a shielded hand.

Dean said this as both a demand and a fact. "I mean it." He puts a hand on Sam's arm. "You got me Sammy. And I got you."

Sam feels the roughness of Dean's hand under his shoulder. But it is also a strong touch, solid warm and real, and it is trying to be comforting, even Dean doesn't know why he's being comforting.

But, being Sam's brother is enough.

Sam blinks, and turns to Dean with a stricken gaze, one finger pointed at him. "Don't-" he doesn't know what the end of that phrase would be. He doesn't know what anything would be anymore.

"And, the climax-" Lucifer raises his hand like a maestro conducting a swelling crescendo.

"Hey," Dean wipes at the hot tears on Sam's face with the heel of his hand. "I mean it Sam-" His hand is on the back of Sam's neck, resting it there, fingers warm on the skin. "I got you."

It hurts so bad, this thing that is sitting on Sam's chest – this pain that is worse than killing him. He's gone crazy. He knows he has –But, he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to.

Sam's shoulder's hitch, then shake.

Dean pulls him to him by the back of the neck, arms holding tightly to his back as Sam holds tightly to his. He rocks slightly with the weight of this grown man; his little brother. "I got you Sammy."



Sam taking Satan back, talking to him, creeped me out to know end, and also broke my heart, because he did it all for Dean. And, he didn't even know what had happened, until it was too late.

"Bonne nuit" said by Lucifer, means: "Good night"

R/R please.