This is just an angsty one-shot about Sam's hallucinations inspired by Season 7 Episode 2

Please R+R, it means a lot :)

"Sammy," Sam could hear the voice but clenched his teeth and tried to ignore it, "Hey Sammy-boy." It was insistent. Right by his ear, he could feel cool breath against his neck making him shudder "Wakey wakey sleepy head."

Not. Real. Not. Real. He chanted it over and over in his head, as if somehow by willing it he could make it true.

"I'm boo-oored" He could hear the sing song voice moving around the room. But he lay still with his eyes closed, his hands balled into fists, squeezing so tight he was cutting into his palms with his nails. But Lucifer remained.

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore people Sammy." His tone suddenly went very soft and very dangerous as he moved close to Sam's head again, "And I hate rudeness." He gave a soft chuckle. The hallucinations had been getting worse. He wasn't sure if they were hallucinations, the lines between reality were blurring and what had been real in the cage was becoming real out here. Things that Lucifer did were real. He stabbed a knife into a table between Sam's fingers to get his attention and it was really there. Dean had had to pull it out of the table after Sam said he did it when he lost his temper. He couldn't confess to Dean how mad it was getting. How mad he was getting.

"Sammy's being ruuuuuuuuude"

"It's not being rude because you're. Not. REAL!" Thundered Sam, breaking his promise to himself to ignore Lucifer no matter what he did.

"Oh right. I love it when you play that game. It's so cute." Lucifer sat on the bed and smiled at Sam, "what are you gonna do next?" He took Sam's hand and pressed the scar from where Dean had stitched him up before, the spot that once helped him differentiate between real and imaginary, the different types of pain. This hurt. This pain in his hand was very real, and so were the cool hands holding his and the patient voice saying "I'm not going anywhere Sammy, you're not going anywhere. This is all the cage." Despite the coolness of the Angel next to him. The devil. The hallucination. Whatever the hell it was. Sam felt uncomfortably hot and restless. He felt this all the time, but it was worse when talking to Lucifer. "That burning you're feeling? That's hell, slipping though my little show." He stood and moved to leave the room. "You can't escape the burning Sammy. You'll be back with me before lunch-time" He winked

Sam stood and moved around the small, claustrophobic space, running his hands through his hair. He wanted to know what Lucifer meant by that. He wanted to know what was real. He needed to know. Because this, this uncertainty, this constant fear that the walls would crack was going to drive him utterly insane. Out of the corner of his eye he could almost constantly see flames licking the edges of his peripheral vision, yet when he turned his head there was nothing there. He collapsed down on a chair. Kneading his eyes with the heels of his hands till he saw bright patterns, not seeing his brother looking at him.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean sounded worried, "You okay buddy

"Yeah fine" Sam lied, taking in a deep breath, yet Dean could tell what was wrong and took his hand in the same way that Lucifer had only moments before, pressing the line that had once been and angry wound.

"I. Am. Real" He sais slowly, clearly, "All the rest is just details, we can build on it later just know that I'm-"

Dean's words were cut off with a horrible rasping gurgle and blood bubbled and then trickled from his mouth. He looked at Sam with confusion and opened his mouth but no words came, only more blood coming down his chin. Sam pulled him close in his arms, desperately, convinced that if he held him tight enough he wouldn't go, wouldn't be taken to where Sam couldn't follow.

"Dean? Dean. DEAN. DEAN! Don't-" His words came tumbling out as he begged his bother not to die, "Come one Dean. Stay with me. You're not dying. You're fine. It's all fine. You're with me you're" His brothers face blurred out of focus as his eyes filled with tears and he could feel sobs racking his body. "This isn't real. THIS IS NOT REAL. IT'S FAKE." He was still holding his brothers body in his arms. "If- if this was real then there would be an explanation. A bullet, a knife, a monster." He spoke aloud to convince himself. But his voice was shaking. "People don't just die, this is in my head. NONE OF THIS IS REAL. IT IS ALL IN MY HEAD! IT IS JUST A-"

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was cautious

Sam stood and spun around to face his brother standing in the door. But his brother was lying dead on the bed beside him, the blood round his mouth till sticky, his skin not yet cold. Sam looked between the bloody body on the bed and the confused and wary figure before him.

"Sam are you- Have you been crying?" Though Dean would usually make a comment about his brother being a pussy or a bitch, something held him back. Something was seriously wrong. He followed Sam's gaze to the empty bed. He took a step towards his brother, "Sammy?"

"Don't." Burst out Sam backing away quickly, "Just. Fucking. Don't." He had got himself into a corner by the cabinet and as Dean took slow another step to him he grabbed the gun that had been atop it and pointed it at him. "Stop it!"

"Ohh, slow down there Sammy, what do you think is going on?" Another Dean. Sam wanted to cry in his frustration. There was now one Dean lying dead and bloody, half on the bed, half on the floor, one Dean slowly trying to approach him, and another one lying calmly leaning on the door frame, surveying the scene with mild amusement.

Sam swung the gun round to face the Dean by the door. He out his hands up, in mock surrender before letting them drop. "Ohh, you scared me there, Sammy boy. But we both know you're not going to shoot me." He sighed, "This is only your own fault, you broke the final seal. You can't act like you don't deserve all hell to rain down on your ass."

"You… you think I deserve this?" Sam tried to get his head around it, did he really deserve to lose his mind? He had tried to make amends. He lowered the gun,

"I dunno. You tell me. Did you say yes to letting Lucifer drive round in your meat-suit?"

"I had to!" Sam's voice was rising against his will and he pointed the gun angrily back at Dean- the Dean leaning against the door.

"Sam." The Dean who had been approaching him earlier edged towards him. "Who are you talking to?"

"You."

"What?"

"You." Sam repeated, his brow crumpled in pain and confusion.

"No, I mean who is over there. Is it Lucifer again? Because we talked about this Sammy." He tried to keep his voice calm, but the fear at his brother's behaviour was betrayed in his eyes.

"No. It isn't Lucifer. It's Dean." Sam gestured to the door with the gun. "Dean also is dead." He looked at the body of his brother, still lying where he fell. "And Dean is also talking to me." He turned the gun on the version of his brother standing in the middle of the room. He had hoped saying it out loud would make him understand what was happening, but he was more confused than ever. Lucifer was behind this. That was for certain, but was it in his mind? Was it in the cage? Did it matter? Was the "real" version of his brother the one that had died in his arms, if so did he even want to go on with this anymore? It was hard enough with Dean, exhausting, but he knew he could not face it alone.

"Sam you've gone mental." The Dean by the door shook his head, "You're seeing things. It's Lucifer, you let him mess around with your head and now everyone has to suffer for it. Can't you see that." Sam turned the gun to him, confused

"Stop it. Stop saying that." That couldn't be the real Dean, his brother would not say that to him.

"No one's saying anything Sammy. How about you give me the gun before anyone gets hurt"

The kind Dean, the sympathetic one in the middle of the room offered Sam his hand slowly, as one might a nervous trapped animal. His eyes never left Sam's and he gave him an encouraging smile. And it was tempting. So tempting. To let his big brother sort it out. To let Dean protect him from himself, as he always had. His grip on the gun slackened and he was just offering the gun to Dean because he was so tired, exhausted from fighting the Devil in his mind.

"Before someone gets hurt?" Scoffed the Dean by the door. "It's a bit late for that don't you think? Who haven't you hurt?" He stepped towards him. Sam lifted the gun and pointed it at him. "I mean, it's your fault mom's dead. Jess. You hurt Dad, you hurt me. You hurt Bobby. You drank Demon blood. You broke the final seal. How many people have died for you? Have suffered for you? Complete strangers? People who loved you?" When saying this he had walked forward. Sam stood in the middle of the room. With his brother desperately begging him to listen on his right, his brother reminding him of all the evil he had done on his left, and his brother lying dead half on the motel bed before him.

"Shut up!" he said through clenched teeth. If they would just be quiet and let him think-

"Oh you're fine to do it but don't wanna talk about it after." He shook his head in disgust and came close to Sam, the devil on his shoulder,

"You dragged Adam down in to the pit and left him there to rot. Your own blood. He was innocent."

"Stop it." Sam rubbed him eyes with his hand. "STOP IT!" He then bellowed

"Sam, listen to me" The Dean on his right gently offered his hand again.

"Oh you want it to stop. Ok then, you know how to do that."

"Please just put down the gun Sammy."

"Lucifer's been telling you how to make it stop from the very start."

"Sammy"

"But you've been too much of a coward to listen to him."

How could the same voice, the same face be so different. One cold and with years' worth of unvoiced pain. The other, tense and desperate, terrified for the last person he had left. Both were his brother,

"Sammy just put down the gun."

"You can stop it."

"We can fix this."

"You know where to point the gun"

"Together."

Sam looked at the gun. He was familiar with them, he had been learning how to handle them since before he could remember. This one was just a plain handgun, the bullets in it weren't special like the colt, and it couldn't be loaded with rock salt to get rid of ghosts. But it would do the job.

"If this is all in your head then you're just breaking the illusion and go back to hell. If this is real then you die and go back to hell."

"Sammy, please, you gotta snap out of this."

"Where you belong. There's no place for you in this world"

Sam's vision blurred with tears for a second as his resolve sharpened, he looked at his brother, "You really believe that."

"I do." He face softened for a moment, "It's ok Sam," He made a gun with his hand and pointed it at his own head "pew" he let his head loll for a second, "easy as sleeping."

Sam turned the gun on himself and swallowed,

"Do it Sam. Do it now." Sam nodded and let out a breath

"No Sammy!" The other Dean tried to rush to his brother

"Goodbye Dean"

Sam closed his eyes and heard his brother's cry be cut out by the crack of the gun.

The apparitions instantly disolved, with Sam no longer there to see them; there was no dead Dean lying on the bed, there was no angry bitter Dean by the door. There was only a broken Dean cradling the body of his baby brother. Blood from the hole in his head staining everything dark, as Dean tried to shake his brother back into life.

Sorry it has been so long since I've written anything. If you like this please let me know and I'll try and write more like it. I'm up for requests or whatever, I've been working on some others as well. Hit me up on tumblr, .com or message me on here.

Also I didn't have a beta or anyone look over this so if there are any glaring errors please forgive me.

Lots of love