Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. If it did, Sam would have a lot more POV and actually have a hospital scene, storylines wouldn't be dropped, and we'd have more brotherly moments :p

A/N: I am finally posting this story even though I completed it quite awhile ago. I hadn't posted an actual new story in so long so I guess I got a bit scared. This story takes place after the season 7 episode The Slice Girls so it includes spoilers up until that point. When I saw they aired a repeat of that episode about a week and a half ago, I figured it was time to probably post it and see how it goes.


He woke up with a start, his head pounding a staccato rhythm with his heart. He stunk of alcohol and possibly puke but he didn't care. Bobby was dead and nothing mattered anymore.

He tried to remember the night before but he couldn't. All he remembered was doing a case with Ness. Then bits and pieces of a 16 year old daughter showing up on his doorstep intending to kill him, only to be blown away by her uncle. It almost sounded funny when he thought of it. Never in a million years would he have imagined going on a hunt with the Elliot Ness or having a daughter celebrate her sweet sixteen then die right in front of him, but then again he never imagined having to say goodbye to Bobby either. So stranger things have happened.

"Sam!" He called out for him this time, but got no answer.

Sam? He wondered. Where was Sam?


Dean. Where was Dean? Sam looked at the clock and figured it had to be closing time by now. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't accompanied Dean to the bar. Ever since they lost Bobby, Dean's drinking habit had become worse and right now he was officially worried about Dean's well being. He had almost lost him. Twice. First he had been snatched away from him through some time vortex and nearly had the life choked out of him. Then he had been nearly stabbed to death by his own demon progeny. He needed his brother home, in front of him, where he could keep a close eye on him. He needed him to be safe.

Please be safe Dean, he prayed.

He didn't have a car but the bar Dean was going to was only up the road. He hugged the shoulder of the highway the whole way, finding it somewhat dizzying each time a car sped by him. The road was relatively quiet though as most normal people were tucked away in their beds on a Monday night.

But not Dean. Nothing is ever normal for us anyway, Sam thought ruefully.

He was wearing a hideous orange jacket that he hated that he had worn as a fake uniform once before. He suspected he resembled a construction worker or potentially a traffic cone but he wanted to make sure people noticed him on the darkened street. He was nearly there when he heard a rumbling sound as a car sped up closer to him. He felt the glare of the headlights bearing down on him. He stopped there, expecting the car to pass but instead he noticed it weaving dangerously in and out of traffic, then setting a path straight for him. He attempted to dodge it somehow but knew without a doubt that he was going to be struck. He ran to the side as he felt something hard clip him in the hip and he was vaulted into the air. He felt his world go topsy turvy as he hit the ground hard, the air ripped from his lungs and he struggled to move, gain composure, get to his feet but everything seemed to move in slow motion. His limbs heavy, he realized he was on his stomach, gravel sharply cutting into his skin. He rolled on to his back, the black, dead sky staring back at him with indifference.

The initial shock had dulled the pain at first but now it came hard and fast. His head pounded and his stomach felt like his insides had been flipped upside down by the impact. His leg burned incessantly and his shoulder, hip, and sides let their voices be known. His perception was skewed at best but he knew he needed help and apparently whoever had hit him didn't have the courtesy to stop. He knew he was on the ground and he should get up but he wasn't even sure how to go about it. He couldn't think quite coherently any longer as his vision grayed in and out.

He heard the rumble of the car's music as it faded in the distance and wondered why there was something familiar, nearly comforting about it.

However, he couldn't be sure of anything anymore and wondered how he had even ended up here as he let his mind drift, carried off by the sound.


Dean's mind continued to drift as he finally realized that he was passed out on the floor, still without a clue how he managed to get there. He slowly pulled himself up off the floor, and instantly thought Bad idea. His head felt even worse when he was upright.

Coffee, he thought. I need some coffee.

He got to his feet and recognized that it had to be close to sun up as a faint flicker of light was just starting to peek through the curtains. The fog was beginning to clear from his mind a bit and he noticed Sam's bed was empty, made up neatly.

He must have went for coffee, had to be. He couldn't help but feel that something was off though. Why would Sam be up so early? He knew Lucifer kept him on a strange schedule so he didn't exactly have the most perfect waking and sleeping hours but still. He almost smirked at the idea of Lucifer having his brother on a schedule because that sounded even weirder than the whole Ness and Emma thing but this was the usual crap they had to put up with.

He went into the bathroom and scrubbed cold water over his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror before leaving and was surprised at the reflection. He wasn't afraid to admit he was good looking, and right now he didn't look like himself. Gone was the person who took pride in his appearance and left instead was a pale shell, with circles under his eyes. Even his hair was flat and lifeless, as if reflecting the way he felt inside.

Don't start going all Sam now, he thought, chastising himself for the over analysis.

He hoped Sam would be back with the coffee and hopefully if he knew him as well as he knew he did, a big bottle of Tylenol. He sat on the edge of the bed trying to ride out the worst of his hangover. He wasn't sure what was worse, the raging nausea or the headache.


Sam wasn't sure what was worse, the pounding headache or the throbbing, lancing pain through his abdomen. He knew he had to get up, pray someone was still out driving, and flag them down.

Somehow he willed himself to his feet, slowly and agonizingly.

He put one hand to his head and it came back sticky with blood. He held one hand to his side and limped along on his good leg. It seemed like hours as he hopped along, dragging what felt like a dead weight as he couldn't put any weight at all on his leg, when he heard something familiar rumbling towards him again.

What was it? He was almost unsure as pain wrapped its tendrils around his brain and slowed down his thinking processes. He weakly flung out an arm because that's what he should do, right?

However, the whole process threw off his balance and he felt himself pitching forward. He knew this was bad because he was pretty sure it was harder to see someone passed out on the ground than it was upright.

The rumbling sound was gone but something else had taken its place. A Voice?

"Sir…you…right?" The voice went in and out like bad reception on a TV.

There was a man before him now, but he knew this wasn't right. This wasn't who he wanted to see.

He struggled to get up but he felt himself gently lowered back to the ground.

"Must have been hit," he heard the voice say to someone who had to be with him.

Hit? Hit by what?

"Uhhhhh.." he groaned as pain sliced through him like a razor blade.

The pounding in his head grew worse, but then he heard a more familiar voice.


"Hello, Sammy."


"I can tell you what you were hit by," Lucifer crooned.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He shook his head feverishly, each shake amplifying the pain in his head.

He felt colors explode before his eyes like a sick firework display as he felt his whole body seize up and his vision blacked out completely.

He vaguely heard the person's voice growing more panicked and the word "seizure" buzz through his brain like a mosquito before he knew no more.


Dean registered a buzzing sound and thought it was a new, odd effect of the alcohol but realized it was coming from his cellphone.

"Sam?" He questioned.

"Is this Dean?" The voice on the other end asked.

"Who is this?" Dean slurred without answering the question.

"This is Cedar Valley Hospital. We are trying to get in touch with Dean Singer."

"This is Dean," He said, confused. "Hospital? What the hell was a hospital calling him for? If it was about Bobby's bill, then—"

"We are trying to get in touch with a Dean Singer regarding a patient we have here," She said, interrupting his thoughts. "We believe his name is Sam. We found your number in his phone."

Sam? Suddenly he was completely lucid.

"What happened?" He asked.

"He was a victim of a hit and run driver and he's been admitted to the emergency room."

"Is he okay?" Dean asked frantically.

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't tell you the nature of his injuries over the phone, but it is imperative you get here."

Dean flipped the phone shut before he released a tirade of insults at the woman for giving him next to nothing. He dashed out the front door and outside. He was wondering just how he was going to get to the hospital when he realized the latest loan out was parked haphazardly out in the front of the hotel.

Sam hadn't taken the car? Holy Shit! Then it was Sam hit by a car not Sam safely in the car hit by a motor vehicle. As much as he didn't like to see his "babies" damaged, he disliked seeing his brother damaged even more. He quickly got in and gunned the engine.

Imperative that he get there? Imperative His alcohol inflected brain didn't quite remember the meaning of that. Imperative. Important, right? He seemed to remember that from a fifth grade spelling bee that Sam was in. Kid walked around spelling words so much, he thought he was possessed by a Webster's Dictionary. Of course Sam was a little over achiever. Not only did he need to know the spelling of the word, but the meaning too. Imperative, important Sam had recited ten million times, along with a whole slew of other words. Anyway, if it was imperative that he be there he knew it could be bad. His mind was racing as it was and he wondered if he was even sober enough to be driving, but he struggled to keep his eyes on the road and get to the hospital.


He struggled to open his eyes as he felt a sharp sting in his hand. A strong medicinal smell floated through his nostrils as he woke up with a start. He was lying down again, but this time on a much softer surface. An overhead light glared down on him and he closed his eyes tight again to block it out. The room was icy and stark white. He shivered, his teeth chattering together, rattling loudly and ratcheting up the pain in his head.

"I got the IV started."

"Son, son?"

He felt a soft hand touch his forehead, stroking at the sticky with blood locks that clung to his forehead. He flinched away.

Someone was talking to him, calling him son. Oh God he hoped he wasn't taking on people's faces again. Please don't be my dad, he begged internally.

Lucifer was able to take on his personage perfectly, the deprecating looks, yet a softness to his countenance that longed for the closeness with his son. He'd say all the words Sam so desperately wanted to hear and then take them all back.

"I'm proud of you, son . You did good," Lucifer would say wearing John's face.

Then he'd morph back into his hideous visage and laugh.

"You really bought that one, Sammy? Really? Lucifer would ask, ridiculing him.

Sam whimpered slightly.

"Shhhhhh," it's okay, a soothing female voice said.

Please don't be mom now too, he pleaded inside his mind.

He knew just how to be her too, the idealized version of her that Sam imagined in his mind, singing him lullabyes to soothe him to sleep.

She would sing to him in a voice so sweet, but then it would slowly rise in pitch until it was so loud that blood poured from his ears.

He wanted Dean. He'd convince him what was real and what wasn't. Yet Lucifer could be him too, completely cocky, yet comforting, until he transformed into the devil.

"What's your name son?" The voice prodded again.

He peeled back his eyelids and saw what looked like a doctor before him. Then again he didn't know if this was real so he couldn't be sure.

"Sam," he said, slowly. "Sam Singer."

It didn't seem right, yet it made sense. He found it consoling, like a sudden blast of warm air.


He tried to turn his head to see who was talking to him but something restricted his head from moving.

"Don't try to move, okay?" The woman's voice said calmly. "You are in the hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Not mom, he sighed audibly, filled with gratitude as he turned to look at the nurse's face.

He felt a sharp light stab his eye and he cried out in pain.

"I'm Dr. Lucious," another voice chimed in. However it came out sounding a lot like Dr. Lucifer as the voices blurred together in a hideous cacophony of sound.

"No!" Sam screamed, loudly. "Get away from me!" He tried to get free but the straps bound him to the bed. This was another trick. He knew this one, strapped down to a bed, while his stomach was carved into like some freakish Jack O' Lantern. He felt the familiar stab shoot through his stomach.

"Sammy," Lucifer's voice beckoned to him.

"His vitals are all over the place," the nurse called.

"At least he stopped seizing. I thought we'd never get that one under control."

He felt something plastic affixed to his face and he strained the muscles in his neck and his head to avoid it.

"Easy. We are just giving you a little oxygen."

Something pressed on his right shoulder and he gasped in pain.

"I think his collar bone is fractured."

"Yeah his hip is dislocated too."

Frigid fingers poked and prodded him, manipulating his dead leg. He remembered the hands of those souls reaching for him in the cage, the souls of the lost and too far gone people that hadn't been granted salvation.

Why didn't I get salvation? Am I beyond redemption like them? He wondered, as he cringed away.

"Sammy, you know you can ignore me all you want but I'm a patient man, had to be burning in hell for eons," Lucifer continued in a mocking, almost triumphant tone as Sam struggled to focus on what the hospital staff were saying about him.

Sam opened his eyes for a minute and locked eyes with Lucifer who was sitting right beside his gurney. He struggled to sit up, transfixed by his presence.

"Where was I?" Lucifer asked. "That's right. I know what, or more importantly should I say who, hit you."

"No!" Sam screeched again.

"What is he looking at?" A voice asked, trying to look beyond to Sam's line of vision. Forceful, but gentle hands tried to push him back on the bed.

"Easy. You are going to hurt yourself further."

"It was…" Lucifer said, stopping just short of the big reveal, punctuating the agony.

Sam looked at him in horror while the hands continued to try to hold him back on the bed.

"Ughhhhhhh!" He yelled out as pain shot through his extremities.

"Dean," Lucifer finished, a wicked grin of satisfaction plastered on his face.

Sam's mind exploded at the sound of his brother's name. He wasn't sure what caused his body to go stiff this time, the denial or Lucifer's evil laughter that followed his comment.

"Dean!" He managed to call out before Lucifer's voice beckoned to him once more, dragging him into the dark abyss.