Dean startles awake and stares at the empty bed across from him. He rolls onto his other side, wearily and looks at Sam, who is leaning against the window. "Sammy...why are you still awake?"

Sam straightens and pushes off from the glass. He turns towards Dean, but looks down at the carpet and says, "Too hot."

"What the hell are you talking about? It's freezing in here." Dean pulls his blanket up a little further. "'Damn heater's broken, and you're not even wearing a shirt!"

Sam looks up at Dean for a moment in confusion then back down at himself and nods.

Dean is doing his best to stay calm. Sam still has some rough days, and even rougher nights- he hasn't had a full on flashback-induced seizure in nearly two weeks, but that doesn't mean he isn't still processing the memories.

Mostly, Dean's just glad Sam's talking again- there were a few weeks where it looked like Sam had forgotten how. He might not be as eloquent, but he can get his point across most of the time. Dean never thought he'd miss Sam's nerdy ramblings this much.

Dean watches Sam walk back over to his own bed and lie down. He stares at the ceiling for a while, but then his eyes close and his breathing slows. Dean drifts back to sleep himself a few minutes later.

The glass was cool, it helped a little. It's just so hot, he's just so unbearably, painfully hot and it isn't stopping- it's just getting worse. Sam can see the fire in his veins. It's always been there, he just couldn't see it before he had Lucifer's eyes. Most days he can ignore it, he can pretend he doesn't feel every scalding pulse running through his body, but tonight...tonight he dreamt of Lucifer and ice and then woke up burning

Sam wants to explain it to Dean, but he can't. The words won't make it past his brain- they keep getting tangled up in each other before he can command himself to speak out loud. Sam wants to tell Dean that it's his blood, his body, his mind, all of it- it's all burning and he just needs to be colder.

Lucifer burned cold. When the Devil lived inside him, ice flowed through his own blood and doused the flames. His power didn't sear through him anymore, it sang. Lucifer, for all his fury, had the steadiest hands Sam had ever seen.

Dean wakes up again a while, two hours, later and hears the shower running. His brain takes a minute or two to come fully online- he woke up in the middle of a dream. He walks to the bathroom door, and knocks. " Sammy?" he says, but there's no answer. Dean opens the door, and is hit with a blast of cold air.

Sam is sitting on the floor in the shower stall, under a stream of ice water. His lips are blue, and his eyes look vacant. For a horrible moment, Dean thinks he's drowned. He runs to Sam in a panic, and shakes him over and over. Finally Sam blinks at Dean and smiles, weakly, "I...I could almost feel him again..."

Dean turns off the water, puts a towel over Sam's shoulders and sits down on the bathroom floor, staring at his brother.