Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters/settings

Author's Note: I am so sorry to all of you who have been patiently waiting for me to update this story, I wish I could promise that it'll be better in the future, but I can promise that I will not leave this story unfinished. Thank you so much to those of you who've reviewed and/or pmed me, I love reading what you guys have to say! I played around with the style for this next chapter so I hope you enjoy!

Dean managed to survive twenty minutes before he jumped from the kitchen chair and grabbed his jacket and keys, slipping his phone into his pocket out of habit.

"Go easy on him, Dean," Bobby's voice drifted from the living room, having heard the older brother's movements.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped outside. He wasn't looking for a fight with his brother, far from it. But he would be damned if Sam managed to somehow get himself into an even bigger mess than he already was in.

The older brother slid inside of the impala, feeling some of the tension in his body evaporate as the car purred to life beneath his fingertips. He glided to the edged of Bobby's driveway and paused, thinking. 'If I were Sam and I wanted to be alone...' he turned left and drove slowly, scanning for any signs as to his brother's whereabouts.

...

"Stop," Sam begged, crashing to his knees. He pressed his hands over his ears, as if that would force the memories away. His chest heaved and a cold sweat broke out across his body.

"Go ahead, scream Sammy-boy," Lucifer purred, his breath tickling Sam's ear, "There's no one left to hear you."

Sam panted as he scrunched his eyes shut. He shivered as a breeze ran through his lanky frame.

"They're dead Sam, all of them. Because of you."

"Stop, stop-"

"Don't you think Dean would've found a way to save you by now? Or maybe he's actually happy now that his burden of a brother is gone-"

...

"Pick up your phone, Sam," Dean muttered, slamming the wheel and cursing when it once again went to voicemail. 'Hey this is Sam Winchester, please leave a message after the tone.' He tossed his phone in the passenger seat and wiped a hand down his face, "Come on, Sam."

He started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tick that he'd never been able to outgrow. Remembering a time when his father would place his calloused hands over his in order to stop his fingers from moving, stating that the noise was driving him up the walls.

His eyes zoned in on a prone form on the shoulder of the road. Dean would recognize that messy mop of hair anywhere.

Dean maneuvered the car to the shoulder and shut the engine off, waiting for Sam to lift his head, or give any indication that he was aware of Dean's presence. When he received nothing, he got out slowly his anxiety building.

"Sam? You okay?"

...

The smell of burning flesh clogged his nostrils. His flesh. He was on fire, he could feel the skin peel away, turning black, clawing it's way up his arm. He whimpered, trying to hold as still as he possibly could so that Lucifer would not have the pleasure of hearing him wail and beg.

"Come on, Sammy, you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later. After all, we're going to be stuck with each other for eternity."

Sam could hear the devil's laughter ringing in his ears. A keening sound escaped his throat and he couldn't tell if it was him, or the memory of him in the Cage.

"Sam?"

He felt a hand touch his back. The youngest Winchester's eyes snapped open.

The reaction was immediate, made off of pure instinct. Sam lurched forward, rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his feet, his arms assuming their usual fighting position, his stance one that could be used for both offense and defense. He was expecting an attack, the only times that Lucifer had even been remotely tolerable was when something beyond painful was about to occur. His burning flesh looked like child's play compare to some of Lucifer's other 'games.'

But instead of Lucifer standing there, pretending to look hurt, it was Dean. And Dean looked...scared. 'It's just a ploy,' his brain told him, 'Any minute now Lucifer will show his face. It's just a disguise.' His breathing pattern was staggered as he waited.

"Woah, man," Dean held up both hands, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible. It was clear from his brother's wide, glazed eyes, that he had had some sort of ptsd flash from hell and that Sam wasn't all there at the moment.

"Hey, bud," Dean said, making his voice sound as calm as possible while his heart hammered in his chest, "It's me. It's Dean."

He could almost see Sam returning. His eyes slowly coming into focus, arms slowly lowering just enough so that it was noticeable.

"You're alright, Sam. You hear me?" 'Come on,' Dean begged silently, "You're alright. You got out. You're safe now. You're not in-in," his words stumbled over each other, not sure if saying the Cage would help matters or make them worse at the moment, "You're not with him anymore, okay?" When Sam still seemed slightly hesitant Dean rambled on, "I can prove it, you want me to do that? You're my pain in the ass little brother. You like girly music, you need a hair cut. You called me the first time you got drunk because you were at some party, but dad picked up. He was so mad, but then you got sick and we had to take you to the hospital," he didn't know why this particular story popped inside his head. Perhaps because that was one of the first times that Sam had gotten hurt without Dean there with him. But now that he started he found he couldn't stop himself, and it seemed Sam didn't want him to stop either as he appeared to hang on to Dean's every word...

"Sam should be back by now," John grumbled, disapprovingly as he glanced at the small clock between the two hotel beds.

"Studying probably just took longer than he expected to, you know Sam. The kid's probably so deep into his textbook that he forgot to check the time," it was a lie, but John nodded nevertheless, it had been a common enough occurrence with Sam. Dean knew full well that Sam was at a party some kid in his grade was throwing. It was the first highschool party Sammy had been invited to and he only went because of Dean's encouragement. 'It'll be fun,' Dean had promised, 'I'll cover for you, just go.' Being a normal kid had always been Sam's dream, what was more normal than sneaking out for a party?

However, apparently Sam had had a little too much fun at the party. One too many drinks, and for someone as skinny as Sam was, it wasn't a shocker to find out that the kid was something of a light weight.

At half past eleven Dean's cellphone started ringing.

"It's Sam," Dean told John.

"Let me answer it," John demanded, in a tone that said arguing would be pointless.

Dean handed the device over slowly, feeling as if he was betraying Sam's trust as he did so.

"Sam?"

"Dean is that you?" Dean could hear Sam's voice loud and clear, the idiot was clearly wasted, "Man, you're voice got deeper." Sam snickered, "You sound grumpy."

"Sam, where are you?" John demanded.

"Wicked party," Sam seemed to be talking to someone else while on the phone. Since when did he ever refer to something as 'wicked'?

"Sam!" John raised his voice, not enough to shout, but enough to ensure that Sam would focus back on him, "Where are you?"

"De' I don' feel good," Sam's voice wavered now. John and Dean shared worried glances. Their guts tied into knots when Sam added, "Something's wrong."

Dean shook his head to get the images out of his mind. He needed to focus his attention on Sam now. Sam needed him now just as much, if not more than, he'd needed him then.

"Alcohol poisoning you idiot, but you never did do anything the easy way. We had to sneak you out though, couldn't risk them finding out that they insurance cards we gave them were fake, could we? And you were still sick, but we nicked some of the good stuff when we left. Dad said to save it in case of a hunting accident but I gave you some anyway because you were in pain. And...and..." as quickly as the words had come to him they cut off.

Sam's arms dropped entirely. His eyes welled with tears. Dean was here, he was here and everything would be alright now. His legs wobbled beneath his weight as the relief flooded through him.

"De-"

The smell of burning skin still hadn't left his nostrils entirely, and even though he hadn't eaten anything that morning, he could feel his stomach start to rebel. He clumsily dropped back to his knees as his dinner from the previous evening clawed its way up his throat and made a reappearance.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean crouched down and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders while he used his other one to rub circles on his back.

Memories of being sick as kids ran through Sam's mind, spurred on by the story Dean had just told.

Whenever Dean was sick, Sam would panic. Until he got older, he had never been quite strong enough to carry his brother back to bed, or do much more than force Dean to drink fluids and eat whatever soup they happened to possess at the time. Not that Dean would let him do much more than that even when Sam was strong enough to.

But when Sam was sick? Dean always knew what to do. He was always there, ready to lend a comforting touch, or walking support, or hold a bag when he was too weak to get out of bed to puke. And he never once complained. Never once shied away.

Sam leaned into his bother when he'd finished, closing his eyes. Listening to Dean's steady heartbeat. Taking in some of his brother's warmth. He wanted to blame the tears and vomit on how tired he was, claim that he simply couldn't control his emotions at the moment, but he knew that everything that was happening, and would happen, were beyond simply skipping a few nights of rest.

What if Sam couldn't get a hold on this? What if what happened in the Cage would be forever chasing him? What if he ended up hurting Dean, thinking that his brother was an illusion? What if he failed to be able to distinguish between reality and memory? What if-

"You're okay, Sam," Dean promised, his voice cutting through the worries and silencing them for the time being.

Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder, not trusting his voice to not wobble with emotion if he spoke.

"You ready to stand? Or do you feel like something else might come up?"

Sam thought it over, "Stand."

"Okay, on three. Ready? One..Two..Three," with a grunt of effort Dean helped to get Sam vertical again. He tucked himself under Sam's shoulder to keep him like that, and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist to help balance. He wasn't sure if Sam really was coming down with something, or if his mind was just jumbled at the moment, but either way, he wasn't going to let his brother fall, "You're going to be okay, Sammy." He promised as they stumbled and slouched their way to the impala, "We're going to get through this, I promise."

Sam only nodded. Wishing he shared Dean's optimism.

He knew that whatever vision, or flashback, or whatever it was that he'd had earlier was only the beginning.

The worst was, undoubtedly, yet to come.

*Again sorry for the delay between updates. I'm not sure exactly which course of action I'd like to pursue with this story. Any feedback and thoughts would be more than helpful.

So far it's between:

1)Sam does end up falling ill and drifts between memories of the Cage and consciousness. Dean gets a glimpse of what his brother had gone through and struggles to try to make things better for his brother.

Or

2) After the first flashback, Sam's seeing more and more of the Cage when he is asleep and awake. Dean worries as Sam looses weight and slowly seems to disappear inside of himself.

Both options will have brotherly-schmop galore, and tons of hurt/comfort. Thank you so much for reading and if you have the time, please leave a review to tell me what you thought! Were the flashbacks confusing? Did you not like how much it switched povs or was that hard to follow?