A/N So... I just got hit over the head with this idea a while ago, but it took a while to get out 'cause my brother was in the hospital, and I was spending time with him. He's okay now, so I finally wrote this out. Anyway, I have absolutely no idea where this even came from. I mean, honestly, I've been on this spree of trying out different things, and this is something that I'd never seen done before, and I thought it'd be interesting to try it out. I hope you guys like it. Enjoy! :) ~Sammy

Keeping your sanity in a crazy dawn

It got harder to smile through the pain.

The screams erupted from his throat too quickly, and there'd be a rough, warm, too-familiar hand on his mouth, silencing him.

He held out, at the start. He ignored the blood and the fire and the metal and the chains. He'd tease and snark back at his faceless torturer. He'd laugh his way through every round of agony, because there was nothing that hurt more than his own thoughts.

That was before his eyes finally adjusted to the Light and the Dark.

That was before he saw who wielded the blade that sliced through his skin.

Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood.

Pain.

Dark.

Light.

Scream.

Cry.

Tears.

Sweat.

Fire.

Ice.

Blood.

It's dark, but it's not Dark.

The light's not Light enough.

It's never Hot, and it's never Cold.

And he's curled up into as tight a ball as he can manage, and the room's too small, but it's still too big.

It's not the Cage.

But he's trapped anyway.

"Is it Lucifer, Sammy? Are you seeing him?"

He just stares at his brother, understanding the words, but not comprehending the question.

Because it was not Lucifer who wielded the blade.

It was the Devil.

"Sam, answer me. Are you seeing Satan in front of you right now?"

Dean's not going to accept his silence, so he says yes, because it's true.

He is seeing Satan, right in front of him.

Just, not the one his brother is thinking of.

We had a lot of fun in the Cage, right Sammy?

"Shut up."

Yeah, it was a hoot.

"Shut up."

Of course, it was only ever fun when Michael wasn't there. He always made us cry, didn't he Sam?

"Shut. Up."

You remember Michael, Sammy? Remember how hot he used to burn? Remember how the fires would burn faster when he was around?

"Just, shut up."

I miss you Sammy.

"Shut up, please."

Do you miss me?

"…"

Sammy?

"Yes, I miss you."

Good.

"Now would you just shut up and let me do this research?"

I love you too, Sam.

"Stone number one, remember Sammy?"

He remembers.

He wishes he didn't.

But he remembers anyway.

"Yeah, Dean. I remember."

"Good, now just build on that, okay?"

Such an unstable foundation to build on.

And what is he building anyway? The wall's all but destroyed. There's nothing left to build.

"I'm right here Sam. Don't you worry, I'm right here."

His brother is there, by his side. Always.

And that's what scares him the most.

Lying is a sin, Sam.

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

Oh but I don't partake in any of the sins, it's a common misconception. I am still and angel, you know.

"Okay… why are you telling me this?"

Because you're lying Sam.

"What? No I'm not."

You are Sam. He deserves to now.

"I can't tell him. I can't. It'll kill him."

That doesn't change the fact that he needs to know.

"I-"

"You okay Sammy?"

"What? Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

Tell him.

"Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."

"You still see the devil?"

Tell him, Sam. Tell him about the Devil. Tell him.

"I'm handling it, okay?"

You're not handling it. You're just running away. Big difference, Sammy.

"You know that I'm here for you, right Sammy? 'Cause I am."

"Y-yeah, Dean. I know you are."

And that's the problem, isn't it?

His brother's getting suspicious, but he keeps distracting him with big juicy leviathan hunts.

It works, but only for a while.

"What are you hiding, Sam?"

They're in the piece-of-shit car, and he's pushed up against the window, as far as he can get from his brother in the confined space.

"I'm not hiding anything. I've told you everything."

And the car's pulling up to the side of the highway and his brother's turned to face him.

"Yeah, I used to think that too, but now I'm not so sure. What are you hiding?"

"I don't know what you want to hear, man. I've told you the truth."

"I want to hear about what's making you flinch away every time I come near you."

"It's hell, Dean. Of course I'm going to be jumpy."

"Bullshit. This isn't Hell-induced paranoia or whatever the heck you're trying to pass it off as. I've been to Hell, remember, Sam? Did the whole tour, got the t-shirt and everything. You can't lie to me about Hell."

"You went to Hell. I was in Lucifer's Cage, Dean. It's different there."

It's silent for one tension filled moment, and it takes everything in his power not to just fling open the car door and run until he can't breathe. His fingers inch towards the door handle.

There are the ghosts of tears in Dean's eyes.

"Since when have you needed to stay away from me, Sammy?"

"I- I just… I can't, Dean."

"Why not?"

Because Dean didn't need to know why he shied away, why he flinched every time Dean picked up a blade, why he cried himself to sleep when Dean would smile and tell him that he'd watch over him.

Tell him, Sam. It's time for him to know.

"Why not, Sammy?"

"Because you were there, and you were holding the knife, okay?"

It's been a week.

Castiel took Lucifer away, and there's finally silence in his mind.

His brother's been falling apart, he can tell.

Dean acted like there was nothing wrong; like that monstrous revelation hadn't been disclosed in that shitty car on the side of the highway.

Life goes on.

But he's watching his brother go about, dying on the inside, and all he wants to do is take back that entire whispered conversation.

But it did, and maybe it's better that way.

Lucifer pulled at his shackles. "Let me out, Michael. Please."

Michael just shook his head, and twisted his lips into a cruel grin. "I'll let you out when I'm done with our guest."

"But when do I get a turn?"

"When you've learnt how to do it right."

"Do you have to do it in this form?"

"You still know nothing of torture, little brother. It's not just about hurting their souls. The best kind is the one that attacks their hearts."

Michael turned back to the lump of meat and soul and heart that was quivering before him. His green eyes sparkled, even as his leather jacket dripped with blood.

"You ready for another round, Sammy?"

Blood dripped from the wasted vessel's scorched flesh, and Dean twirled the blade in his hand, laughing.

A/N So... that was weird. Did you like it? Are you throwing up at how horrible it is? Are you so confused that you're doing the Castiel head-tilt? Let me know in a review, and don't forget to share a smile. :) ~Sammy