Thank you so much Jenjoremy for coming on board for another project. Sharing stories is so much more fun with your help. Thank Gredelina1 for helping and supporting throughout the writing process. Thank you all for clicking on and giving this story a chance.

Prologue

The headlights of the cars passing Sam dazzled his tired eyes. He blinked wearily, driving one-handed while the other held the phone to his ear as Dean rattled off what he had been doing.

Lucifer smiled at him from the passenger seat. "Need a nap, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam nodded in spite of himself. He did need a nap or, more precisely, a few days in bed. He was exhausted, so much so that his whole body ached and his movements were slow.

"I thought so," Lucifer said. "You look a little sleepy. Why don't you pull over, stretch out and catch some winks? I promise not to disturb you for at least five seconds." He pulled an air horn from the glove compartment and raised it with a grin. "I'll wake you if anything exciting happens."

Sam was losing his mind. He could literally feel it slipping away from him. It wasn't just seeing Lucifer that made him think it; it was the fact that he was unable to concentrate for more than a few seconds at a time. Trying to keep the truck in the correct lane was a challenge.

"I'll give you a break if you talk to me," Lucifer said. "Just a little conversation, that's all I ask. It's lonely, not to mention boring, to watch you and Dean running around after these crappy cursed items and not being able to join in. We used to have such nice chats in the Cage, remember?"

Sam shook his head. They hadn't had 'chats'. There had been threats and torture, screams and pleas, but no conversation. There had never been time for talking there with Michael and Lucifer torturing him every hour of the day.

"See, I remember sharing my deepest desires with you and listening to yours; I wanted to hurt you and you wanted me to stop. It made me feel like we really had a connection. Made for each other, you know?"

Sam corrected the truck slightly in the lane again and gripped the phone tighter in his hand.

Dean was saying something about real estate and Sam's eyes drifted shut. He wished he could talk to his brother, really talk. He wanted someone to understand what was happening to him. He couldn't though. Dean had too much to deal with already, with Bobby gone and Dick Roman still out there. He was—rightly—obsessed, and the last thing he needed was Sam whining.

"Sam? Sam?" Dean's irritated voice broke through his thoughts.

Sam dragged himself back to the call with difficulty. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, sounds good. Keep me posted."

"Sounds good?" Dean said doubtfully. "Are you all right?"

Lucifer cackled, "Sammy's just fine."

His shield of protection broken a little by the sound of Lucifer's laughter, Sam said, "You know they say that sleep deprivation is an enhanced interrogation technique?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me; it's torture."

He ended the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket then rolled down the window to get some air. It was icy, and it seemed to cut through the exhaustion clouding his mind.

"Sure, that'll work," Lucifer said. "Fresh air is great for clinical sleep deprivation. Really, Sam, you used to be smart. Are your braincells dying off already?" He tapped his chin. "I thought it would take longer."

"Shut up," Sam muttered.

"That's a start," Lucifer said. "Now let's expand. What would you to do make me shut up? Are you close to swallowing a bullet yet?"

Sam rubbed his thumb hard on the scar on his palm. He had no hope it would work as it hadn't since he let Lucifer in, but he had to try something. The cool air was losing its potency and he was slipping into drowsiness again.

"Nope, still here," Lucifer said cheerfully. "Keep trying though. Sooner or later you'll find something that works, right? Like a switchblade to the wrists maybe. That's sure to fix it."

Sam pressed harder, but it didn't even make Lucifer flicker, nor did it wipe away the exhaustion that was dragging his eyes closed. He fought to keep them open, but one blink was impossible to refuse, and his head tilted down.

The blaring of a horn snapped his eyes open. A semi was bearing down on him, headlights flooding his vision. He yanked the wheel to the right, but it was too late. The semi clipped the side of the truck and sent him spinning. The car rotated so he was facing the wrong way and then continued to the guardrail. He was flung forward, and his head hit the windshield with enough force to create a spiderweb of cracks in the glass.

His hands were still gripping the steering wheel and his foot planted on the brake when consciousness deserted him, sending him into darkness.

When he woke, it was obvious he hadn't been out long as the blood from his temple was just reaching the edges of his shirt and soaking into the fabric.

His first thought was escape. He had to get out of there in case the engine went up. He couldn't smell gas or see fire, but he wasn't hanging around to check. He felt for the door and tried to open it, but it was jammed against the guardrail. He looked across at the passenger side and realized he wasn't getting out that way either. The door was crumpled inwards. He was trapped.

He cursed as he assessed his situation. His head pounded and there was a sharp pain in his chest each time he tried to draw a breath. There was no pain below that though, and when he looked, he saw the steering column pressed hard into his stomach. There was definitely no escaping.

Lucifer was sitting with his legs crossed on the hood. Sam could see his silhouette through the shattered glass. He was waving at Sam.

"Figures you wouldn't even let me stay unconscious," he said weakly.

"I was lonely," Lucifer said. "And I let you have a few seconds, didn't I? What more do you want?"

"Some Tylenol would be good right now," Sam muttered.

He could see nothing through the windshield but the shape of Lucifer and the glare of the streetlamp above him. He wondered what had happened to the other driver. Had he crashed too? Was he okay?

"I know I told you to try something different, but I didn't mean drive under a semi," Lucifer said.

Sam ignored him and reached into his pocket for out his phone. His fingers felt the rough edge of cracked plastic, and he closed his eyes and sent up a prayer, "Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken," as Lucifer laughed. He turned it and saw that, though the back casing was cracked open, the screen lit up. He raised his eyes heavenward. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lucifer said cheerily.

Sam dialed Dean's number and closed his eyes against the pain for a moment as it rang.

"Hey, Insomnia. How's it going?"

"Dean, there's been an accident," Sam said, wincing as he tried to draw a deeper breath and felt a stab of pain.

"What? What happened?"

"I was hit. Or I hit. Either way I'm trapped."

He heard the worry in Dean's voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. My head hurts, and I think I've done something to my chest; maybe a collapsed lung. It's hard to breathe."

"Jesus, Sam!"

He could hear movement on the line, people talking and Dean demanding they get out of the way.

"I'll be okay," he reassured. "Could use a little help though."

"I'm coming. Where are you?"

"Route 26, just west of town."

"Right outside Sunset Hills Memorial Park," Lucifer suppled. "Convenient, right? They won't have to carry your body far."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and took a painful and constricted breath.

"Okay," Dean said. "Break it all down for me. You've hurt your chest and head, what else? Check yourself over for me Sam. Feet? Legs? Knees?"

Sam twitched his foot. He couldn't feel it, but it was pretty sure it was moving. "They're all fine."

His vision blurred over and he blinked to clear it. He was only mild successful.

"Sleepy time?" Lucifer asked.

"No," Sam said.

"No what?" Dean asked. "Are they not fine?"

Sam's head bobbed as he felt darkness wash over him. He forced it back. "I'm tired, Dean."

"No!" Dean snapped. "You've been awake for nearly three days. You can stay awake a little longer. Is Lucifer there?"

"Yes," Sam whispered. "He's sitting on the hood."

"Then talk to him. Focus on him and me, and stay awake. You cannot let yourself fall asleep, Sam!"

"What if I don't feel like talking?" Lucifer asked. "What if I'm in the mood for a lullaby? I'm kinda tired, too, Sam. We could be bunk buddies again."

Sam's eyes closed against his will and he battled to open them again. "I don't think I can, Dean."

"Dammit, Sam, you will stay awake!"

"Yeah," Sam said weakly. "I'll do that…"

His head tilted forward as he lost consciousness.

So… Interested? There's plenty more to come.

The prompt for this story was: What if Sam did wake up too late when he fell asleep behind the wheel in 7x16.

I'm embarrassed to say I can't find the original prompt so I don't have the name of the original prompter to thank for it. It was the result of a long evening spent trawling very old prompt threads. Whoever you are, I am very grateful to you and I hope you find the story.

I am writing a version of Sam that I've never explored before in the aftermath of this accident and I am hoping you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx