AN: Our Solemn Hour fans, this story should be right up y'all's alley. This is just my speculation/wishful thinking for season eleven. That being said, Season 10 finale spoilers, along with graphic violence. Tortured!Sam be here. Story title from a Three Days Grace Song, Fallen Angel.

Dean knew he had messed up a lot, and a lot of different times in just one day. Leaving Sam in order to summon Death, trying to trade his brother's life in order to give him a hold on the mark, getting the Impala's wheel stuck in a freaking pothole as they were trying to escape an oncoming cloud of darkness.

In short, Dean was having kind of a rough day.

Not to say that Sam wasn't; his big brother had just beaten his face to hell. Sure, they'd practiced moves on one another or sparred from time to time, but then, they'd held back. This time? Yeah, not so much.

Now Sam knew how Dean had felt back when he had been possessed by Lucifer, and nearly bashed Dean's face in. Getting punched and thrown around to the point of Sam having to throw his hands up in surrender and practically having to beg Dean to stop, sure, that had hurt. But watching Dean be so willing to give up his life, and not so much as bat an eye? Yeah, that had hurt a little more.

Despite that though, Sam had managed to get through to him, and finally, finally, finally, finally, the mark was gone. Fat lot of good it's done though considering that the Darkness, Sam still wasn't entirely sure what it was, was barreling towards them, and the car wouldn't budge.

"Dean!" Sam called out in a panic.

Tires grating and splashing in the pothole were not the sounds Sam or Dean wanted to hear in answer. Dean turned to Sam. God, the kid looked so young, even beneath the nearly swollen shut eyes, and a face bloodied almost past recognition, the young face still looked so afraid and desperate.

Slamming the car into reverse, thrusting it into drive, stomping on the accelerator, it was all pointless. Dean hated to admit it, but right now, he was scared.

Right before the Darkness consumed the Impala with its unknown and therefore terrifying power, Dean cast his eyes over to his brother again. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

And then blackness enveloped them.

Truthfully, Dean was expecting worse. The cloud surrounding them reminded him of demon smoke, and he remembered how much damage a hoard of it had done to his baby. But this wasn't demon smoke, it was just- darkness.

It may have been barely sunset a moment ago, but now, it might as well have been midnight, in space, inside of a black hole.

Dean tried to turn to look at Sam once more, but he couldn't even see his own hand right in front of his own face. He wasn't sure if the Darkness was in the car with them, or if it was opaque enough to block out all outer light. Both made sense, and it worried Dean.

Not sure what to expect, Dean was completely flabbergasted when the Darkness began to fade away from the car. It was like the Impala was merely an insignificant obstacle in its path, rather than its objective point. When it finally cleared completely, Dean sighed in relief.

"What the hell just happened? Dean asked as he looked to the passenger se- Oh… Oh, God, no.

The seat was empty.

Heart now dropping to his stomach and beating with the speed of a hummingbird's, Dean leapt out of the car. "Sammy?!" Not this, please, God, anything but this! "Sammy!"

The last thing Sam remembered was the Darkness practically swallowing the Impala, and everything had gone- well, dark.

But as he opened his eyes, he was terrified to realise that he was no longer in the Impala. Instead, he was in a cold, concreted room, strapped down to a metal table, much like the one he'd hallucinated Alastair tying him down to back when he was detoxing from demon blood. It even had the same strap going across his mouth, effectively gagging him.

No need to panic, he's been in this situation an annoyingly large number of times, this was nothing new.

He tugged at the bindings, relieved to feel a little give in them, but he froze as he heard a door behind him creaking open. He swore the room dropped about ten degrees as footsteps drew nearer and nearer.

"Hello, Sam."

That voice, that was just- impossible. Sam immediately snapped his eyes shut so tightly that it hurt. His breaths turned to harsh and panicked pants, growing increasingly louder against the leather strap.

"Aw, don't be like that, Sammy. Look at me."

Whether it was out of stubbornness or fear, Sam refused to comply.

"Sammy, we both know I don't like being ignored. Open your eyes, or I'll make you."

What was the point of being defiant? Sam knew he'd give in eventually, so why cause himself unnecessary pain? He opened his eyes, and staring right back at him, were the icy blue eyes of the Devil.

"Thatta boy." Lucifer praised with his all too familiar smile, plastered on the same face he had used when he'd taunted and tormented Sam for centuries.

Unable to bare that cold gaze for long, Sam snapped his eyes closed again, and mumbled to himself, praying that when he opened them that the Devil would be gone, and he'd be back in the Impala with his brother. God, he really wanted- needed his brother right now. His stone number one…

"What's that, buddy?" Lucifer asked, earnestly curious. He plucked the gag off Sam's mouth, and listened eagerly to Sam's nearly incoherent muttering.

"Not real, not real, not real…" On and on he went.

"Hate to burst your bubble," Lucifer paused, thinking. "Actually, no I don't. Anyway, yeah, I'm definitely here. Thanks to you." He giggled. "Been here before, haven't we?"

"Th-this is impossible." Sam insisted desperately. "Y-you're in the Cage."

"Was in the Cage. But then," He began circling the table Sam was secured to, picking up on Sam's subtle loosening of his ties. "Someone broke the lock. Guess somebody destroyed the Mark of Cain, huh? Tell me, was it you or big brother who had the mark, hmm?"

Sam only swallowed.

"Yeah, that's definitely more Dean's level of stupidity, isn't it? Nope, my little Sammy's way too smart for that, isn't he?" Lucifer cooed as he pinched Sam's cheek far too intimately. Sam always hated these games the most. The too close touches just to unnerve him, the ridiculously casual conversations, Sam knew these all too well.

"What do you want?" It was a dumb and clichéd question, but Sam just needed time. With more time, he could get free, and then he'd- actually, he really wasn't sure where he'd go from there, but right now all he could only think of escaping.

"You're just begging for a monologue, aren't you? Fine, I'll bite. All I want, all I really need, it's what I've already got."

Oh, God. "Wh-what's that?"

The grin was expected, but that didn't make it any less horrifying. "You."

Finally pushed over the edge with terror, Sam broke free of his bonds and made it a whole two steps before he was thrown face-first to the ground by an unseen force.

"The ties were just a formality, Sammy." Lucifer chided. "You're not going anywhere. But, since you're so determined, and I do find it adorable when you think you have a chance, go ahead." Lucifer's smile got wider. "Run."

Not caring that it only made him a pawn in Lucifer's game, Sam leapt to his feet, and hurried for the door, only to feel his left femur bone crack right in half. He cried out hoarsely, and fell to the ground.

"Can't give up, if I give up he wins." Ignoring the pain as best as he could, Sam shakily got to his feet, biting his lip at the coursing agony. He limped an entire step forward before something invisible raked across his other foot, and tore through his Achilles tendon, making him drop back to the floor with a pained shout.

Sam knew Lucifer was loving this; watching him fail. Sam knew he wanted to see the fight drain right out of his eyes, but he wasn't willing to give up yet.

Knowing his legs were utterly useless now, Sam began to crawl, wincing when his injured legs scraped against the ground.

His vision went completely white when his felt his arm get ripped out of its socket. A strangled gasp was the only sound he was capable of making as he felt tears form in his eyes.

By now, Sam knew it was pointless, but nonetheless, he dragged his body forward with his one good limb, only to have an ice cold hand clamp into his wrist. He felt the limb grow stiff as crystals of ice begin to form and creep up his arm.

"That's what I've always admired about you, Sammy. You just don't know when to quit." He gripped a now frozen finger, and snapped it clean off. Lucifer wasn't surprised when it made Sam pass out, either from shock or pain. He moved his hand to Sam's face, tilting it curiously, like a painter examining his newest canvas. "That's what makes this game so fun."

AN: So, there's my version of how season eleven begins. Hope y'all enjoyed, and drop a review if you did! Still got one more story immediately in my head, so I'll see you soon with that. Until then, carry on my wayward sons!