AN: Sorry for the wait, exam week is coming upand- I could say I've been studying, but actually the looming threat of finals has just been pushing me to procrastinate everything even more than usual so-… my bad. But I'm here at last with the final and my favourite chapter, but I will warn you, extremely graphic violence warning. Not for the squeamish, and it may be pushing the T rating, but I don't think it's too much if you watch the show. Without further ado, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

Sam screamed as Lucifer yanked another chain out from inside him, chunks of his innards tearing free with it. Sweat and blood slicked down his naked torso, and he nearly choked on a sob as he bit into his cheek to keep himself from whimpering at this agony. His hands tensed into tight fists as they futilely tugged at the restraints keeping his arms over his head.

"Alright, step one is complete!" Lucifer announced with glee, clapping his hands together, which collided with a wet splat since they were coated in Sam's blood.

Sam's head drooped to his chest, and he clenched his eyes shut. Not a moment later, he heard Lucifer snap his fingers, and clamps immediately pinched his upper eyelids and forcefully pried them open, causing Sam to cry out in misery. He saw Lucifer's pout in front of his face as his senses returned to him.

"Sammy, you're being rude. I told you I wanted to show you a magic trick, and you won't even look at me." He tsked and shook his head at his prisoner like a parent scolding a disobedient child. Sam had always hated feeling this inferior.

"I've always been a fan," Lucifer continued, not at all acknowledging Sam's pain. "Of the one where the magician pulls all the cloth out of his hand. Seriously, how's he do that? I thought I'd try it out today. Unfortunately, I'm all out of handkerchiefs, so I'm making do with what I have." That said, Lucifer plunged his icy hand into one of the gaping wounds in Sam's abdomen.

Mouth wide in a soundless scream of agony, Sam was completely helpless, unable to move beyond quivering in pain as Lucifer's hand continued to fish around his insides. He finally made a loud cry once Lucifer's fingers gripped something inside him. Sam made brief pleading eye contact, fearfully knowing where this was headed. Lucifer only smiled at him in response, and then he started pulling.

A wet, sucking sound reverberated off the walls of the Cage as Lucifer began dragging- something out of Sam. Sam was too horrified to look down at first, but when he'd been tortured as much as he had already, what was the harm of seeing it? His head dropped down to see his intestine sliding out of him with borderline comical speed. Sam actively gagged on nothing when he felt the moment the last of his intestine was ripped from him. His body shook helplessly as he internally pleaded for death if it meant escape from this torment, but the fact that he remained alive and breathing meant that Lucifer was far from done with him.

"What kinda bullshit is this?" Lucifer asked with all the disdain of a petulant toddler. He picked up the fallen intestine and began inspecting it, which of course meant gently caressing the damn thing, and even going so far as to lick it. "Yeah, definitely the large intestine." He huffed. "Then why's it so dad-damn short? Okay, guess I'm gonna have to try the other one."

"N-no…" Sam managed weakly. He couldn't take this anymore. He'd been broken since day fucking one.

"Hm. Ask me in that way I love so much." Lucifer said passively.

Sam did whimper this time. "Pl-please, stop. Please."

Lucifer nodded in acceptance. Or so Sam had thought, because the next thing Lucifer did was stick his hand right back into Sam's gut.

"Not before I'm done, my sweet, little bitch."

Sam knew Lucifer liked it, no, loved it when he screamed, but he'd reached that point in the day, always reaches that point, every day, every damn day for the rest of eternity, where he no longer cared about preserving his own dignity.

That horrible squelching sound returned as Lucifer once again began tearing his intestine out of him.

"That's more like it." Lucifer exclaimed over Sam's wretched screaming. "I can just keep going, and going, and going." He said as he continued to spill Sam's innards out on the ground below. "And it doesn't stop. They should have called this one the large intestine, it's way longer than the other one. I think it's just because the other one's got a bigger diameter. Details, am I right?" The horrific game continued, and Sam almost missed the distant voice over his own agonised cries.

"Sammy, c-c'mon!"

That voice. It was- but it couldn't be-

"D-Dean?" He barely even whispered it, but Lucifer still heard it, He heard everything Sam ever said, and he immediately gripped Sam's chin, forcing him to make eye contact with him.

"What have I told you about using that name down here?" He painfully dug his thumb and pointer finger into Sam's cheeks, making him cry out as his mouth was forced open. "Am I gonna have to cut out your tongue again?"

Tears stung Sam's eyes, and as usual, he blamed the heat of Hell rather than his own weakness.

"It-it's not real, I promise!" Came Dean's voice again. Sam wanted to scream at the voice how it sure as hell felt real, but then it spoke once more. And it really sounded like he was in a lot of pain.

"Please, I n-need you, Sammy. You can do this. Come back to me, little brother."

Memories began flashing through Sam's head. The hunt. The warehouse. Getting cut by the demon. Suddenly seeing-

Crowley! He was possessing Sam right now, and he was forcing him back into his Cage memories, which meant he was currently all alone with- Dean!

"No!" Sam screamed, but this time, it wasn't out of weakness. It was out of roaring determination to take back control. He had taken down the Devil when he had to, so fighting back Crowley, even trial-wearied was nothing. Not to Sam Winchester, and especially not when his brother needed him.

Crowley attempted to claw at Sam's brain, but even as weak as Sam had appeared to be, he easily overpowered Crowley. He felt the swell of victory for just a split second before he laid eyes on Dean. His own hands gripped the hilt of Ruby's knife, which was currently plunged into his brother's shoulder. He also had several more cuts littered across his torso, and his face was already swelling with blue and purple bruises. God, he'd done this to him…

Dammit, Sam, that mindset wasn't going to help Dean right now. Sam knew what he had to do, only he wasn't sure that it would work. He could only pray that it did.

"E-exorcizamus te…"

"Oh, come on." Crowley hissed at Sam from inside his head. So it was working.

"Omnis immudis spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"

"Fine, I'll take the hint." Crowley interrupted. "This isn't over, Moose." And then Sam was choking on red smoke as Crowley ripped himself out of Sam, and hurried back to his original meatsuit. "You better hurry. Squirrel isn't looking too good." Crowley waved at Sam, and then he vanished.

Concern overpowered Sam's anger at himself for letting Crowley get away, so he quickly favoured his attention on the one who really needed it.

"Dean? Dean, hey, are you with me?" Sam asked in a bit of a panic. His heart soared in relief as Dean gave a pained groan. "Thank God. I-I'm so sorry, Dean, I tried to fight him-"

"Stop it." Dean cut him off. "Not your fault, you know that. Let's just let this be over, alright?" He winced as he shifted. "Help me up?" He held out his good arm, which Sam took and pulled Dean to his feet. He then draped Dean's arm over his own shoulder as they started to leave that godforsaken place.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Sam asked.

"Just give me something to tie around my shoulder. I'll be fine until we get home, then you can patch me up. What about you, how's the chest?"

"It's fine." Sam said somewhat distantly. He and Dean both knew that Sam's chest wasn't really what was bothering him the most. Being possessed was not something Sam took lightly, especially considering how he'd nearly killed his brother each and every time it happened. Not to mention how this time around Crowley had forced Sam to relive his Hell memories, something Dean understood all too well.

"What about the rest of you?" Was the best way Dean could think to ask without being too blunt.

Sam could've lied. He could have pulled the classic Winchester, "I'm fine," and pushed away all mental hurt, like they both usually did. But the trial had made him weak before, vulnerable even. And Sam knew that his brother deserved better than a half-assed lie after how well Dean had taken care of him.

"Honestly? No, no right now. But I know that I can be. I-I'm hopeful for the future, Dean. And I really mean that this time." He gave a small but genuine smile. "I really do think what we're gonna be alright."

Sam was not alright. Shortly after he'd brought Dean home, patched him up, and sentenced him to bedrest, he'd simultaneously turned into everyone's caretaker. From trying to figure out how to make tomato rice soup just the way Dean likes, to constantly having to buy more food, thanks again, Meg, to also having to keep an eye on the tantrum prone Angela- it was safe to say that he was getting exhausted.

Were Sam to tell Dean how he was truly feeling, Dean certainly wouldn't have let Sam continue to run himself rampant, but Sam did feel rather guilty for Dean getting hurt, despite him knowing that he wasn't really the one who had hurt him, but he was the one who had barged into that warehouse so damn unprepared. Not to mention how he didn't immediately notice that the demon had cut through his tattoo. Or how he-

"Sammy, is something burning?"

Dammit, not again! Sam rushed to the kitchen and shut off the stove. Luckily nothing had burst into flames this time, and the soup still tasted fine.

"We're good, Dean!" Sam called out to him. "Be right there."

"Mm, smells like home in here." Meg said with a sly smile.

"You mean Hell? Wow, thanks." Sam deadpanned as he poured the soup into a bowl for Dean, which Meg immediately took from him and took one big mouthful from.

"Could use a little more onion powder." She said, smacking her lips.

Sam snatched the bowl back, replying with, "I was thinking it could use more salt, that way you wouldn't be able to have any."

Meg pouted. "Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings."

"Sammy?" Came Dean's voice from his room.

"Coming!"

"By the way," Meg added just as he was nearly past her. "We're out of beer again. You'll need to make a run into town sometime today."

"Fine." Sam huffed as he tried to brush by her once more.

"Oh, and Angela broke a bookcase, so you should probably fix that."

"Okay." Sam said, noticeably more irritation in his voice this time.

"Sammy?" Dean called again.

"Oh, and, Sammy-"

"Sammy-"

"Shut up!" Sam finally snapped at the third voice that had called his name, and he even dropped the bowl of soup, which then clattered to the floor, and promptly shattered. Wait, third voice? The only other person there was-

Shit.

Sam quickly turned around to see poor Angela standing there with a picture she had clearly coloured for him. But now her bottom lip was quivering, and the second he took a step towards her, she darted off to her room.

More mad at himself than anyone else now, Sam slammed his fist on the counter. "Dammit!"

"Hey," Meg said with a hint of actual sympathy in her voice. "You go get her, I'll take care of this."

Sam swore he literally felt a weight taken off his shoulders. Meg finally seemed determined to help him out for once.

"Thank you, Meg." He said sincerely. He briefly smiled at her, and then headed after his little girl.

Not surprisingly, she had closed the door behind her, but ever since they'd put one of those special door-knob covers she could no longer lock them out. But that didn't mean Sam was just going to barge in there either, so he knocked.

"Angela, sweetie? Can I come in?"

"No!" Came the immediate response. Sam could almost hear the pout through the door.

"I just want to talk to you." Sam tried again.

"I don't wanna talk!" She replied, and then Sam heard the click of the door locking.

So. She'd learned how to psychically lock the door… Fantastic.

"Alright." Sam said. "If you don't want to talk, then I'll talk, and how about you just listen?" There was silence as Angela mauled it over.

"'Kay." She replied at last.

"So…" He huffed. What was the best way to explain this to a toddler? "I've been tired lately. I've been taking care of Dean, and your mom, and you a lot because I love you all so much." Well- two of them at least. "But it's made me really sleepy, and then I've gotten angry. But when I yelled at you, Angie, I wasn't really mad at you. And I'm really, really sorry."

He waited for her to reply, and then he waited some more, but she said nothing. He sighed and turned to go, figuring she just wanted some time alone in order to cool off. Not a moment later he heard the door unlock. He took that as his invitation to come in. She greeted him wordlessly at the door, and took his hand, escorting him over to the bed where she then instructed him to sit. She then scuttled over to her desk, and returned with the picture from earlier.

"It's beautiful." He told her after spending a good amount of time admiring her mess of scattered scribbles and patternless lines.

"I know." She responded with her signature modesty.

Sam chuckled. "Want me to put it on the fridge?"

She flared her nostrils in thought, a trait she'd learned from watching Sam. "I wanna do it."

"How about," He suggested. "We do it together?"

Angela smiled. "Yeah."

Sam kissed her head. "I love you."

"I love you more, daddy."

"I love you most." Sam stood up and held her hand, and started making his way to the kitchen. Then he froze. "A-Angela, what did you just call me?"

"Daddy." She repeated, somewhat irritated at having to repeat herself. She-she really meant it. She really knew… Sam didn't even realise a grateful tear had spilled past until she asked him, "Why are you crying?"

Sam gave a breathless laugh as he wiped it away. "Cuz I'm happy." He scooped her up into his arms and hugged her, and she tightly embraced him right back.

Sure, Sam had had a rough couple of days, but now he further believed what he had told Dean back at the warehouse. Everything really was going to be okay, because- yeah. Admittedly, the boy with the demon blood, Michael's vessel, a demon, and a sort of anti-Christ living under one roof was an odd mix. But know what? That was Sam's family now. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

AN: Thus, we conclude another installment of Lost in You. Supervikinggirl, I hope I have met your expectations, and that you have thoroughly enjoyed this fic, as well as any other readers out there. If so, please let me know and drop a review. And if you'd like to see more from this Sam/Meg series, send me a request anytime. If I don't get a chance to say it again, have a very, merry Christmas, and until next time, carry on, my wayward sons!