Title: Blatant Lies

Author: Snarkymuch

Rating: T

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sam, Dean, Hallucifer

Warnings: Self-harm and a continuing theme of past abuse (nothing graphic)

Spoilers: Season Seven

Summary: Sequel to Hidden Truths, Sam and Dean are moving forward until the past comes up and stops them. Some things are not easily forgotten.

Blatant Lies - Chapter One

The spirit shoved Sam back. His chest let out a whoosh of air as he hit the brickwork of the fireplace. The spirit came at him again, and he reached feebly for anything that could use as a weapon. His hand fell on the cold iron handle of a fireplace poker. He wrapped his fingers around it and prepared himself to swing.

The spirit charged forward, cool air brushing over Sam as it did. He tightened his grip on the poker, and when it was close enough, he swung. It cut through the spirit, sending it melting away into the air.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath and he brought a hand down to this thigh and rubbed the spot where the cuts once laid without thought. When things became too much to bear, the habit grounded him. He hadn't cut for over a month. It had been hard, and at times, he thought he wouldn't make it through, but Dean had been there, just like he said he would, helping him through it second by second.

Sam heard a shuffling sound in the next room, and he ran for the door. When he got there, he found Dean pinned by the spirit, shotgun fallen just out of reach. Sam ran over to his side and grabbed the gun, training it on the ghost. With one quick shot, the spirit was gone, but not for good. He would be back. They needed to find his remains and get them salted and burned as soon as possible, preferably before going another round with him, as both he and Dean were both in rough shape.

Sam reached out and gave Dean a hand up, helping him to his feet.

"You okay, bro?" Dean asked as he looked him over from head to toe. Dean's protective streak had been in overdrive since finding out the truth about Sam's childhood months ago.

Sam pressed a palm to the spot on his head where he got hit. "Yeah, just took a knock to the head earlier, but I'm okay now."

"You sure? Let me see." Dean was already walking over to him.

"Dean, I'm—"

Dean put up a hand to stop him. "Don't even finish that sentence. You know how much I hate the words 'I'm fine.'"

Dean took step closer to Sam and looked at his eyes, checking his pupils. "They looked good." He reached up and touched the growing knot on Sam's temple. "Nice one, but I think you'll live. You feel sick to your stomach at all?"

"No, I'm okay, just sore."

Dean nodded and dropped his hand. "I bet. All right, I say we go gank this son of a bitch and get the hell out of here. I don't know about you, but I've had enough fun getting thrown around for one night."

It took them an hour of hunting the cemetery, but they were eventually able to find Old Wiley's remains. They salted and burned them without a problem and then headed back to the motel.

Once there, Sam went about his new routine. He would kick off his shoes and then grab his toiletries bag and head in to the bathroom.

Stripping down, Sam stepped into the shower. The water felt good against his sore muscles. There were times where he needed the water as hot as possible to wash away the feeling of hands on his body, but thankfully, today wasn't one of those days. He was okay.

Once he was washed, he stepped out and grabbed his towel. He flipped his head down and dried his hair. When he flipped it back up, he nearly fell to the floor. There, sitting on the toilet seat, was someone he thought was gone from him forever. It was Lucifer. And he was smiling.

"Hey, Sammo," Lucifer chimed, waving his fingers. "Long time no see."

Sam looked away, grabbing his boxer shorts and slipping them on.

"No need to hide on my account." Lucifer grinned. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

Sam's body was shaking, and he struggled to put on his sweats.

Lucifer's head tilted to the side as he stood up and walked closer. Something had caught his eyes. Sam stumbled back, nearly falling into the shower. "Easy there, Tiger. I was just trying to get a better look at your handiwork."

Sam's hand quickly moved to cover up the mess of scars.

"Nice work, Sammy." Lucifer smiled. "I could have done better though. Maybe next time." He shrugged.

There would never be a next time. Lucifer was gone. Sam closed his eyes and pressed the scar on his hand and waited. The room went silent, and he nearly cried in relief.

He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up into the mirror. Lucifer popped up behind his shoulder and smiled, raising his brows. "Peek-a-boo."

"Dean!" Sam called, fumbling for the door. "Dean!"

The door pushed open and Sam stepped back.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, looking him over from head to toe. Sam knew he was looking for more cuts. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, it's … I …" Sam pushed his way past Dean in the living area.

"It's what, Sammy?" Dean looked panicked, looking over Sam, eyes flickering around the room for the hidden threat.

Sam looked back over his shoulder at the bathroom, swallowing hard. Lucifer was gone. "It's nothing … just some bad memories."

"Was it about him again?" Dean hated saying the clown's name. He didn't like to think of him as a human because in his eyes he wasn't. No one who could hurt his brother like that was human.

Sam shook his head, gaze still locked on the bathroom. Dean brought a hand up and cupped Sam's cheek, forcing him to look away.

"Sam, talk to me. We had a deal. We were going to talk about this stuff. No more hiding."

"Yeah, yeah, no more hiding," Sam breathed. "You're right."

"Good. Now what did you see, Sammy? What's got you so spooked?"

"He's back, Dean."

"Who's back, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes pricked with tears. "Lucifer. He's back. I saw him."

Dean's mouth went dry, and he looked to have momentarily lost the ability to speak.

"I don't understand, Sam," Dean said finally. "What do you mean he's back? Back where? Can you see him now?" Dean looked around the room like somehow he might be able to see him, too.

Sam shook his head. "He was there when I got out of the shower. He was smiling, Dean. Smiling."

Sam was near hyperventilating now, and Dean knew he had to do something to calm him. "Sam, you need to take a few slow breaths for me. You're going to make yourself sick."

Sam nodded mutely, and Dean placed a hand on his chest. "Feel my hand? I want you to focus on it. Feel me. Now take a breath, nice and slow. Now let it out."

Dean repeated the steps again and again until Sam's breathing was under control.

"That's good, Sammy."

Once Sam was calm, Dean went over to the duffel and dug through it. He pulled out a bottle of pills. Opening them, he shook one out into his hand.

He walked back over to Sam and handed him the pill. "Just something to take the edge off."

Sam didn't argue. He just took the pill and popped it into his mouth. It began to dissolve before Dean could hand him a glass of water. Sam face scrunched up in distaste.

He took the water from Dean and rinsed the taste from his mouth.

He walked over to the bed and took a seat, resting his head in his hands. He was already beginning to doubt his sanity. Had he really seen Lucifer? Was it just some horrible flashback? He didn't know, and it scared him.

Dean came over to the bed and sat down beside Sam. He gently placed a hand on Sam's back and began rubbing circles, trying to ease the tension he could see in his brother's frame.

Dean worked his hand up to the nape of Sam's neck and began rubbing softly. "Is the pill working?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, a little, I guess."

"Are you sure you saw him?" Dean asked quietly.

"I don't know. I guess maybe it was just a memory, but it felt so real."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm okay now."

"Good. Then why don't you lie down for a while, let the pill work?"

Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, probably should."

Dean got up and Sam lay down on the bed, curling up on top of the covers. He slid his arm under the pillow and drew it close to him, fingers digging into the soft fabric.

xXx

Sam woke with a start hours later. It was dark, the room only faintly lit by the parking lot lights outside. He looked around the room, needing to assure himself that he was really awake. The nightmares were so real, twisted memories played out in the fires of hell. He drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself up in the bed. He looked over at the other bed. Dean was sound asleep, dead to the world.

Sam walked over to the window and looked out, thinking back to his dreams. The cries, the pain, the touching. It made his skin crawl and he shivered. He wished he was past the memories of what the man had done to him, but he couldn't. They memories were still sharp and vivid, and they played behind his eyelids like a horror movie.

Sam heard a tapping noise coming from somewhere nearby, and he tensed. Without turning his head, he could see the gun by the door. The tapping grew louder and Sam dove for the gun. He grabbed it and pulled it up, spinning to face the sound. And there he was again, Lucifer, grinning as he tapped a pen against the table.

Dean stirred in the bed but thankfully didn't wake. Careful not to make a sound, he placed the gun back down on the table. This wasn't real, he reassured himself.

"Those were some interesting dreams you had there, Sammy," Lucifer said. "Some of our best times—"

"Shut up. You're not real," Sam snapped.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Please, Sam. We all know the truth. I'm as real as you let me be. And we all know how much that is."

Sam looked away, hoping he if he ignored him long enough he would just disappear. "So, tell me, Sam. I have to know, who was that other man in your dream? The clown. You seemed more afraid of him than me. We can't have that now, can we?"

Sam swallowed hard and stumbled back towards the bed. When his knees hit it, he collapsed back and sat. He was shaking now and it made Lucifer chuckle. Sam pressed feebly against the scar on his hand, but it only made Lucifer laugh harder.

"You're going to need more than that old trick." Lucifer got up and walked over to the bed, looking down at Sammy with a frown. He squatted down and brought a hand up to touch Sam's thigh. Sam jumped back and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the devil away.

"You know what you have to do, Sammy." Lucifer dug a thumb into the old scars. "It's just a cut, right? Dean wouldn't even have to know."

The pressure on Sam's leg disappeared and Sam opened his eyes; Lucifer was gone. But the urge to cut was back with a vengeance. He didn't think he could control it, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't fail Dean; he couldn't fail himself.

Tears began to roll down Sam's cheeks, and he wiped them away.

Dean grumbled and stretched. He blinked tiredly and looked over at Sam. His eyes went wide when he saw the tears, and he jumped out of bed to kneel in front of Sam. Sam hung his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to shield his eyes.

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, tucking it up behind his ears. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a nightmare. I'm good now."

"You sure, you don't look what I'd call good."

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm okay. Just shook up."

"You want to talk about it? Do you need to talk about it?"

"No, no I think I'm all right. Don't worry Dean. I'd tell you if it was something bad."

Dean drew a breath and then nodded. "Okay, I trust you. It's still early, so why don't you try to get a bit more shuteye."

Dean ruffled Sam's hair as he got up and walked the few steps back over to his bed.

"Goodnight, Sam."

Sam lay back in the bed, curling up on his side. He looked out toward the window and watched the passing headlights of cars as they flickered through the room. He yawned and closed his eyes, but not for long. Hell flashed behind them moments later, jolting him awake. He blinked and looked around the room. He felt so tired, so out of control. He needed to do something.

His eyes fell on Lucifer. He was back, or maybe he had never gone, but instead of looking mocking, he looked sympathetic. He smiled sadly at Sam.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said, holding the penknife out for Sam. "You need this."

Sam wasn't sure where Lucifer had found the knife. Sam had assumed it had been in Dean's bag, but he hadn't looked before to find out. Dean trusted him, and he didn't want to break that trust.

Sam got out of the bed and walked over to Lucifer, snatching the knife from him.

Holding the knife gave him a mixture of excitement and guilt, but the one thing it didn't make him was happy. Happiness never really did play a part in the equation.

Part of his mind was taunting him now. It would be so easy to do it. The knife was in his hand. Dean was asleep. It would only be one cut. It was so tempting. He might have done it if it weren't for the devil sitting in the corner, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"Make it pretty, Sam."

Sam shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let Lucifer get to him. He couldn't let the past get to him. Making a decision, Sam crept over to Dean's duffel. He unzipped it slowly, trying to keep the noise down. Once open, he stuck the knife back inside and closed it again.

He stood and turned to face Lucifer. "You won't win."

Lucifer frowned. "If I had feelings, they'd be hurt."

Sam walked over to Dean's bed and gave him a nudge. "Dean, wake up."

Dean snuffled and then rolled over to face Sam. He blinked wearily. "What's wrong now?"

"Dean, I need to … you know …" Sam said. "I don't know if I can stop myself."

"Whoa, okay. Hang on." Dean pushed himself up in the bed. "What can I do?"

"Just sit up with me until it passes."

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"

"You mean the urge?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

"About a seven."

"Can I ask what set you off?"

"Just thinking too much." He glanced over at the table where Lucifer sat, biting his nails and spitting out the pieces on the carpet. "You ever feel something is so real you can't tell where the truth ends and the dreams begin?"

"Yeah, a few times, after I got back from Hell. It's not easy, Sam, but I promise things will get better. We'll get past what happened."

Dean got up and walked over to his duffel, pulling out the same small bottle of pills as before. He shook one out into his hand and then walked over to the small fridge.

Sam glanced over at the devil, who was wearing an odd expression; he looked intrigued. "Get past what, Sammy?" Lucifer stood and walked over to stand in front of Sam. "You can tell me. I'm not all bad."

Sam scowled at him. "Shut up."

"What's that, Sam?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing, just clearing my throat."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "I'll find out you know. I can wiggle my finger around in that brainpan of yours and pry it out."

Dean came back with a pill in his head. "Two in one day. I guess we could call this a rough patch."

Sam smiled wanly. "Thanks."

Sam popped the pill and chased it back with the bottle of water Dean passed him.

"I'm feeling a little better. I think I am going to try to sleep it off."

"All right. I'm going to stay up just in case you need something."

Sam knew Dean didn't trust him not to hurt himself, and he couldn't blame him. Not after everything they'd been through.

Lucifer knelt in front of Sam. His face looked pained. "I don't like not knowing, Sammy." He reached up and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. "You're keeping secrets from me and I don't like it."