Sam's breath came out in sharp huffs. His broken fingernails clawed helplessly at the concrete, his back arched.

"Leave him. We have work to do."

The door opened and then shut, plunging the room into darkness. Sam made a whining sound in his throat but got no response. He desperately pulled his aching body across the floor, slamming against the locked door. He screamed for Dean in his mind, but no one responded.

"All alone," Lucifer said softly. "Just like before, when you became mine."

Sam pressed his eyes closed against the darkness, scratching at his body. Lucifer wasn't there, he was gone, he was dead. Michael had—

"You think my little brother could've finished me off? Come on, Sam, you know better than that. I've been here all along. How do you know your memories aren't just something I've made up to keep you subservient?"

Sam shook his head violently. Lucifer's laughter filled the small room; Sam shut it out by banging his head repeatedly against the solid metal door until he blacked out.

Dean cursed, punching a wall.

"That is rather pointless," Cas said drily.

Dean whirled on him, fury in his eyes. "How did this happen?" he hissed.

Cas sighed, a human expression of frustration he had become particularly fond of using. "We will find him."

"How did we lose him in the first place?" Dean snarled. "We're in Haven, he was supposed to be safe."

Lucy whined, weaving around Cas' legs. He bent down, petting her a little. "Can you find Sam?" he asked her.

She looked at him, uncomprehending. Cas missed his abilities to commune with all of God's creation.

"We need to check the video feed for Haven. I mean, it was probably some people who think he's Lucifer, right? They probably attacked him."

"Unless it was demons," Cas said. He regretted it, as Dean's face became thunderous.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Cas winced. "Two days ago."

Dean cursed.

"What about you?"

Dean shifted, eyes cutting away. "Two days ago, same time as you."

So this was their fault. Castiel swallowed, twisting his hands together. "Dean, what can we do?"

King of useless bravado, Dean said: "We get him back."

Unsatisfied with that vague response, Cas went to their living space, searching the room swiftly. Sam's bed was made neatly, a small bag with his stuff near the end of it. Castiel rummaged through quickly, hating himself for invading Sam's privacy. Nothing was inside except for canned food and a few clothes, however.

"Anything?" Dean growled.

"Nothing." Cas swallowed.

"I'll get Jo to check the tapes."

Cas gasped. "Jo . . . you don't think . . ."

"No, no, she . . . she wouldn't."

Dean slammed into Jo, pressing her against the wall with a hand around her throat.

"Tell me you didn't lay a finger on Sam," he snarled.

Jo's wide eyes met his. "Dean! I didn't . . . what? What happened to Sam?"

Dean searched her face for a moment before stepping back. "Sam's disappeared."

Jo cursed, scrubbing a hand against her neck. "Have you checked the video feeds? Anyone report seeing him?"

"We need to find that out," Dean said. "Will you help?"

Jo grimaced. "I won't deny I hate the guy, but yeah, I'll help you find him."

"Fine," Dean said.

"How much are we going to be combing through?" Jo led the way into the surveillance room, booting up the computer. Dean eyed the patched-together generator dubiously.

"Past two days."

"That's a solid amount."

"Yeah, well, that's what we have to work with." The footage was grainy, but clear enough that it was clear who was going in or out. It wasn't until 39 hours back they found him. Sam exited Haven's walls, letting the door shut and walking a few feet away. Dean waited for something to happen, but all he did was stand and stare out at nothing.

The old man in the corner snorted in sleep. Dean walked over, kicking him awake.

"Yo. Have you seen this?"

The man blinked, squinting at the screen. "Yeah, tha' boy asks to be let out once a day, just stares at nothing."

Dean turned back to the screen, just in time to see a figure appear by Sam's side. Sam acted with a hunter's instincts, instantly lashing out, but he was overpowered easily with supernatural intent.

"Demons, Cas, get a tracking spell together!" Dean barked. Cas ran off immediately, leaving Dean to stare helplessly at the screen as Sam was knocked unconscious and dragged away.

"I'm coming, Sammy."

The demon bent down, cradling Sam's face. Sam was too weak to fight it, coughing pathetically.

"I can't believe you were his chosen one," it murmured. "I think I want to hear you scream for this next part. Who was it who ripped out your tongue, darling?"

Sam could do nothing but stare defiantly. The demon opened his shirt, checking for his anti-possession tattoo.

"Lucifer didn't like you scarring up his vessel, huh."

Sam struggled in vain, but all too soon the demon was pouring down his throat, clogging up his mind. His damaged throat and tongue tingled—the demon didn't do anything else before it smoked out.

"Ha, I wouldn't get back into you if someone paid me." The demon shook itself in its old meatsuit. "Lucifer sure left a mess in there."

Sam coughed, the strange sensation of his regrown tongue distracting him. "Exorcizamo te—"

A fist slammed him into the ground. Sam groaned, pressing up with one hand.

"Now let's get back to the point. How do we bring Lucifer back?"

Sam laughed. The sound was so strange, after years spent in silence. "You would bring back the one that hated you? That destroyed every demon he crossed paths with?"

"That doesn't matter. Tell me how to bring him back!"

The demon clenched his fist. Sam's heart skipped a few beats in the unnatural squeeze.

He laughed again. "It took Lucifer dragging me to hell and back again to convince me to give in to him. Do you think you can do anything that will come close to that?"

The demon was unruffled. "We can only try," it said.

Sam bared his teeth. The demon cracked its knuckles.

"Get in before I leave you," Dean said.

Cas got in the car. Through the window, he watched Dean hesitate next to Lucy. He looked away as Dean briefly clutched the dog, burying his face in her fur.

"They can't have gotten far," Dean said, voice rough as he climbed in. Lucy jumped up, curling up between Cas and Dean. "Cas, keep your hand on the shotgun. We might run across them once we hit the suburbs again. Location spell working?"

Cas nodded.

The backdoor suddenly opened, and Jo got in the car. Cas caught the suspicion and fear and relief that flashed across Dean's face before it was impassive again.

"You coming?"

"I can help." Jo didn't look at either of them, busy loading her gun and checking her rounds. "Are we going or what?"

Dean gunned the engine, pulling out of Haven with a roar.

"Where are we going?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "I did some scrying, and there is a group of demons not far from here. We're hoping they are the ones who took Sam."

Jo grunted in acknowledgment. Cas could hear her muttering in Latin to herself, going over an exorcism.

"How did they even find him here?" Dean muttered. "I thought Haven would be safe from that."

Jo leaned forward, eyes meeting Cas' briefly before focusing on Dean. "Sam isn't exactly popular, Dean. Someone might've let it slip, and word travels fast."

Dean cursed. "How'd they find out about Lucifer?"

"That would be my fault."

Jo was a braver person than Cas. He would've kept his mouth shut about that. Dean didn't stop the car, too intent on finding Sam, but Cas saw his fingers twitch to the gun strapped to his thigh. His voice was dark. "What!?"

Jo remained calm. "After you and Sam showed up, I got drunk. I let it out, and it spread. I am sorry."

Dean's hands clenched tightly around the wheel. "As soon as this is over, we are having words."

She merely nodded.

"I grow tired of his screams."

Sam lifted himself up before his elbow gave out, depositing him back on the floor.

"Let's get rid of that pesky tongue again, huh?"

Sam did his best to go back, keep them away, but the demons were relentless, holding him down and slicing his tongue out for the second time in Sam's life.

Blood filled Sam's mouth. He gurgled, twisting away from the hand on his chin to get the blood out of his mouth.

"Get him to swallow this."

A cup was shoved in his face. Sam was too out of it to refuse, letting the liquid spill over his face. It tasted disgusting; he weakly tried to spit it out, but the demon slapped its palm across his mouth until he swallowed.

"That should do it," it said. "Sleep."

Sam frowned, uncertain what it wanted.

"Dreamroot, idiot." The demon tossed some of the dried root down onto his chest. "We'll meet you inside."

The demon who seemed to be in charge sighed. "This is gonna take too long. Knock him out."

Sam had no time to block. He was thrown into a motel room from when Dean had come back from hell. "Wha—?"

"We're in control, here. Give us the answers, or we'll take them from you."

Sam snarled. "We'll see about that." Somehow he managed to make it sound intimidating. His entire life had been manipulated and controlled, why should this be any different?

But Sam would die before letting someone else control his mind again.

It always came back to blood. The entire apocalypse had been hinged around it.

The room was painted in Sam's. Dean couldn't let himself focus on it, but his mind ruthlessly catalogued how it looked so that he would remember it in the middle of the night. Cas and Jo took care of the demons, spitting out exorcisms. Dean went straight for Sam, prone in the middle of the room, covered in blood. His bruised arms were curled over his head in a small attempt to shield himself.

"Sammy," he whispered. Sam made no response. With trembling fingers, Dean searched for his brother's pulse. It was weak, enough that Dean's heart rate kicked up.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes. Help me carry him."

Cas took Sam's feet. New abuse littered Sam's body. Dean muttered a steady stream of curses and imprecations against demons as they lugged him out of the warehouse. Jo took the driver's seat, revving the engine.

"Let's get him out of here," she said.

"No arguments," Cas replied, heaving himself into the front seat after situating Dean and Sam in the back. "How's his breathing?"

"Shallow." Dean pressed his hand against Sam's cheek. He felt cool from blood loss. "Hurry up."

Their return made people rush around in a mad attempt to help; Dean ignored all of them, focusing on getting Sam into his room and settled. He only allowed Cas and Haven's doctor to help. It was better that he take care of everything anyway.

By the time they got Sam hooked to an IV, bandaged, and cared for, Dean was exhausted. He finally slumped down in the chair next to Sam's bed.

"You sure gave us a scare, Sammy," he murmured. Sam didn't answer, hopefully because he was drugged now, not because he had slipped into a coma. Dean grimaced, leaning forward. He hated this part.

"Wake up, Sam." He gently slapped Sam's unscarred cheek, and when that didn't work, rubbed his knuckles into Sam's sternum.

Sam's face twitched, the good half twisting into a grimace.

"That's it, come back to me."

Sam's eye blinked open, staring up at Dean. He raised a shaking hand, pressing it into Dean's.

"What is it, bud?"

Something dried and shriveled was pressed into his hand. Dean glanced down, recognizing its pungent odor.

"Dreamroot? They used this on you?"

Sam nodded, then pointed at Dean before making the symbol for Dean's name.

"You . . . you want me to hold onto it?"

Sam shook his head, gesturing to Dean's mouth and then his own head.

"Sammy. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes," he gestured.

Dean was younger, in Sam's head. Sam took a second to wistfully take him in.

"Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean."

Dean's face split into a grin. "You can speak!"

"For now." Sam turned, surveying the graveyard. "I thought it was a good opportunity to clear the air."

"Clear the air." Dean came closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. "Guess it's been a while since we have done that."

Sam nodded, staring blankly outward. "I don't know where to begin."

"How 'bout . . . are you okay?"

Sam looked at Dean wryly. "Since when have we been okay?"

"True."

Sam ducked his head, twisting his hands together. "It's a little late to say this, but I'm sorry. For so much. I don't even know where to begin."

Dean half-reached for Sam. "You've got to let all that go, Sam. Water under the bridge."

Sam grimaced. "Is it? It keeps coming back, and I see him, all the time."

Dean finished his gesture, gripping Sam's shoulder. "I know you've gone through a lot, kiddo. I'm sorry too, for not doing enough to help."

"You don't have to say that," Sam whispered.

"Why did the demons grab you?"

Sam shuddered. "Wanted Lucifer back."

"Did they . . . get anything?"

Sam shook his head. "They couldn't do anything that hasn't already been done."

Dean sighed, looking out over the graveyard. "You sure do have a happy brain, don't you?"

"All the people I've gotten killed." Sam traced his fingers across the top of the one with Dean's name.

"I'm alive, though."

"You weren't. And isn't that the whole reason we went down this road? Me getting you killed?"

"Sam," Dean breathed. "That was never . . ."

Sam turned away. "Actually, that brings up something I wanted to ask."

"Sure, Sam."

"Will you kill me?"

He heard Dean gasp and turned, meeting his brother's eyes with his functional one. "Sam—"

"Hear me out." Sam took a step forward. "You've seen what it's like. No matter where I go, I cause destruction. I'm useless, a burden. I'm stuck in an endless loop of awful memories and can barely function. Everything would be . . . better."

Dean cursed violently, kicking fruitlessly at his own gravestone. "Sam, you can't believe that! After all we've been through, and we've made it this far, you just want to give up?"

"Not give up," Sam said calmly. "Set you free."

"Sammy . . ." Dean reached out, gripping the sides of Sam's face; he touched Sam's scarred and ugly side. Sam tried to shy back, but Dean wouldn't let him go.

"I know things have been bad, and I haven't been there for you the way I should've. But Sam, the years I abandoned you and let Lucifer take you were the worst in my life. When you returned, I couldn't . . . couldn't really believe it. And I took a lot of anger and old disappointments out on you. But believe me, Sammy, when I say that all I want is for you to be at my side, us working together."

Sam shuddered. "You—you don't mean that."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?"

Sam searched his gaze and found absolute conviction in his brother's eyes.

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me," he whispered.

"Ditto." Dean grinned, brushing Sam's hair behind his ears. "We good?"

Sam nodded.

"Time to wake up."

Castiel contemplated the Winchesters. "If I were a weaker man, I would take this opportunity to pull the prank and draw on your faces."

Neither answered him. Cas sighed, poking at Sam and then at Dean. "You're both alive. That is some relief."

Dean had told Cas that he was going to talk with Sam alone after he'd first woken up, and then Cas hadn't heard from him. Upon investigating, he'd found the brothers passed out on Sam's bed, empty glasses in both their hands that, when Cas took a whiff, smelled disgusting.

Castiel sighed again, slumping back wearily. "You cause me so much trouble," he muttered.

Sam twitched. Just as Cas leaned forward to investigate, he shoved upward with a strangled sound in his throat. Castiel flinched backwards, holding up his hands.

"Whoa, Sam, you're okay."

Sam looked at him, eye widening, and reached out. Cas awkwardly gripped Sam's hands with his own.

"I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner."

Sam shook his head, eye filling with tears. If Cas had to guess from Sam's expression, they were tears of gratitude, but he couldn't really tell.

Dean lurched upwards, coughing horrendously.

"Dean?" Cas checked.

"Ugh." Dean rubbed at his head. "I hate that stuff."

Frustration bubbled up inside of Cas; it was so much simpler when he didn't have such petty emotions.

"Will one of you tell me what on heaven or on earth is going on?" he snapped. Sam wouldn't let go of his hands.

"Sorry, Cas." Dean rubbed a hand across his face. "I, uh, took some dreamroot. Talked with Sam."

Castiel ignored the surge of jealousy that Dean could get to have a chance to talk with Sam.

"And?"

"And we talked. Uh, cleared the air about some stuff." Dean glanced at Sam. "I think we're back on track."

"Well. That's good," Cas said shortly.

Sam tugged at Cas' hands, pulling him close and into an awkward embrace.

"He told me to tell you he's sorry you couldn't come talk to him as well, but there wasn't enough dreamroot," Dean said.

Cas patted Sam's back. "Okay, that's fine."

There was a knock on the door. The three of them turned simultaneously to see Jo as she walked in. She looked bemusedly at Cas and Sam before shrinking back from Dean's heated glare.

"I was just checking to see if Sam was okay."

"If he's okay—?" Dean began, outraged, but Sam wiggled his way out of Cas' arms and gripped his brother's elbow.

"Maybe you should talk to Sam," Cas suggested.

Jo nodded, looking to Sam directly. "I'm sorry for my part in it, Sam."

He signed, "not your fault."

"I've let everyone know that Sam saved us from an attack by demons," Jo said. "They won't bother him anymore."

"Thanks," Dean said begrudgingly.

Jo nodded and left the room.

Sam made the sign for Lucy's name. Cas laughed, opening the door. The mutt ran in, hopping up on the bed and slobbering all over Sam's face. "She missed you."

With everything that had happened, everything Sam had gone through, the possibility of joy should have been extinct; and yet, Sam smiled, wrapping Lucy in an embrace and cuddling her close.

"You want some alone time with the dog?" Dean said drily.

Sam shook his head. Without warning, he dragged Cas down so that all three of them—plus the dog—were piled on the bed together. Sam wiggled his way so that he was comfortably curled between all of them.

Dean snorted. "Just because you've had a rough day, I'll let this slide."

Sam sighed, a sound of complete contentment.

"I take it we'll be staying here for a while." Cas squirmed a little. "I should've brought some weed."

Sam flicked him in the ear and Cas yelped.

Dean snorted. "Shut up, Cas. Sammy deserves a break."

Sam, arms still full of dog, carefully signed, "safe?"

Cas glanced at Dean. The elder Winchester cleared his throat, curling his hand around the back of Sam's neck. "Yeah, Sammy. We're safe."

A/N: Whew guys you have no idea how much it took me to get even this rather pathetic ending out. Blah. Disappointed in myself.

As my excuse, I took the NCLEX, graduated, and got a job in the last month so I think I'm somewhat excused. IDK how much fic writing will be done this summer; moving to new city for the job so it's gonna get pretty crazy. I will get a few weeks to relax though so hopefully something new will come along! Thanks for reading.