Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

A/N: So, in Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, I thought that Sam and Dean would have a moment after Elvis' asks about Sam's possession. They sort of did, but Sam wasn't as affected by being reminded of some bad times. Here, I present to you an alternate scene after Sam's encounter with Elvis. I hope you enjoy it.

He's going to be sick.

He's going to be sick, and he can't do anything to stop it. He only prolongs it as he convulsively swallows the bitter, burning bile rising up the back of his throat.

"You were possessed by The Devil? Like, Lucifer, the actual big, bad Devil. And you lived."

The guy sounded so excited by the very idea, and Sam doesn't even remember any more of what he says, just his red shirt. The red shirt that reminds him too much of blood.

He almost tastes it.

An excuse stumbles out of his mouth and he leaves, trying to remember where the nearest restroom is and barging into it, lucky that no one else is using it. He barely has time to shut and lock the door before he's on his knees in front of the toilet, his stomach violently expelling any contents it can dig up, and everything tastes much worse coming up than it did going down.

"Sammy."

He flinches away, feeling breath brush against his ear as Lucifer whispers his name. He's never forgotten the sound of that voice. Cas may have saved him from dying of sleep deprivation in the psych ward of a hospital he can't remember, but he could never put the wall back up that Death gave him. He couldn't take away the memories, just the insanity they caused.

The insanity they still cause now, years later, when he's forced to think about memories he tries to suppress.

He manages to pull himself to his feet and looks in the mirror, but the man staring back isn't him. His reflection shouldn't have those cold eyes or that cruel smirk.

His mouth forms words that he doesn't speak in a voice that isn't his.

"Miss me?"

He flinches when the mirror shatters, distorting his image, but then he blinks and the mirror is intact without a single crack.

There's still a scar on the palm of his left hand, but pressing it doesn't help anymore. He knows that the voice he hears isn't there. He knows that the reflection in the mirror is, in reality, no different than it should be.

Just like he knows that the knocks on the door are real and not a figment of his imagination.

"Sam?"

Just like he knows that voice calling his name is his brother's, not the remnants of The Devil in his head.

"Sammy, you in there?"

Sam takes a deep breath to steady himself and opens the door for Dean, whose fist is raised and ready to knock again.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean asks. "You shoved past me and about a half-dozen other hunters in your rush here. Feeling sick or something?"

Sam steps aside and lets Dean in the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Did you know people tell stories about us?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out when some hunters in the kitchen asked me if I was the Dean Winchester who's died and come back to life repeatedly."

Sam notices how Dean looks at Sam's hands that refuse to stop shaking. He thinks that Dean's probably realized that he's a little too pale. A little too unsteady.

"Why?" Dean asks.

Sam sits on the edge of the bathtub, his hands clasped together to keep them still. "Some guy asked me about being possessed." Then, when he remembers that he's been possessed multiple times by multiple creatures, he adds, "By Lucifer."

He watches Dean run a hand through his hair, then kneel in front of him so they're at eye-level to each other. The position is so familiar, it's painful. Although, Sam is sure that he was smaller the last time Dean had to reassure him of something after he had a mini-meltdown in a bathroom (unless it happened when his hallucinations were bad enough that he couldn't differentiate between real and fiction. He doesn't remember everything from that time).

There's always some nightmare to address. Always some guilt eating away at him. Even after all these years, he finds himself shaken up to the point that he needs Dean's help. One question. That's all it took to bring back some of the worst memories of his life.

These living nightmares are from a different league.

"I thought that you were good after that week of not sleeping," Dean says.

Sam shrugs. "Cas took the worst of it, yeah, but I still have all the memories. They're just… a little louder sometimes when I'm reminded about, you know, all that."

"So, you still see him or something?" Dean asks.

"I mean, I know what's real and what isn't," Sam says. "It's never been that bad again, but I'll hear him whisper to me. I'll feel his breath on my ear, or I'll see him instead of my real reflection. And I know that none of it is real, but that doesn't make it easy."

"Why didn't tell me you're having issues?" Dean asks. He doesn't sound accusatory. He sounds more hurt. More disappointed.

"It's usually not that bad, and it doesn't happen often. I usually just try to forget those memories or ignore them. But hunters talk about me being possessed by Lucifer like it was something, I don't know, good. Like I should be proud of it, but I was the one who let him out in the first place, Dean."

Dean has a hand on his shoulder to offer some sort of comfort (and probably to help him keep his balance). "The amazing part was that you beat him," he says. "You sacrificed yourself for everybody else on the planet."

"I didn't want people to know that," Sam says. "I didn't want the hunting community to share stories like that about me."

Lucifer was the end of a long line of mistakes that Sam isn't proud of, and to think about other hunters sharing stories like that about him fills his organs with ice. He considers making another dash for the toilet, but he doesn't have anything left in his stomach to throw up.

"Do you want to leave?" Dean asks.

Sam shakes his head. "No. No, I'll be fine. I just need a minute. You can go back out and have another beer or whatever."

Dean gives him one more squeeze on his shoulder before he stands up. "I think I'm starting to get why Dad didn't like hunter gatherings. They ask too many questions."

That pulls a small smile out of Sam. "Yeah. He wasn't a fan of being asked questions."

"You would know," Dean says. "You really tested his patience."

"He tested my patience."

Dean laughs a bit at that and turns the doorknob, about to let himself out, but he pauses. "Hey, who was it that asked you about being possessed?"

On another day, or if his mental state was a little more stable at the moment, he would've told Dean that it didn't matter who asked. But none of that crosses his mind and he says, "Some guy named Elvis. He had a bolo tie, but I guess that hunter funeral attire isn't the same as what normal people wear."

Dean nods and opens the door. "I'd say to yell if you need me, but with all the other people here and the size of this place, I'm guessing it'd be easier to just use your phone or something."

"I'll be fine," Sam says. "Like I said, I just need a minute to compose myself and… I don't know, splash water on my face. Go on."

"Right," Dean says, and he leaves.

Sam thinks that Dean might've taken the memories of Lucifer with him when he left, because it's quiet. No matter how many times he looks in the mirror, his reflection is real. Normal. There's no ice in his veins (Lucifer burns cold), and there's no hellfire either. There are no voices whispering in his ears. No abrupt, loud noises meant to startle him.

All these years, and Dean's still his stone number one, even if he doesn't realize it. Just like when they were kids, he can pull him back to reality and calm his fears without trying.

He can go back out and face the other hunters. He can make it to the end of the gathering. He'll survive, because he has Dean.

He runs into Elvis again a little later, and Elvis turns to avoid him.

But Sam catches a glimpse of a bruise forming on Elvis' jaw, and he knows that his brother is looking out for him in more ways than one.

A/N: Please leave a review!