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“Balls-to-the-wall crazy,” Dean says and shuts his eyes; exhausted, not just from today, just in general. Dean thinks Sam is crazy now too. Sam can feel it. He can feel it in the way Dean looks at him when he flinches at nothing or starts hyperventilating. But Sam’s tired too, so he tries not to think too hard about it.
He can’t even take his coat off before the devil is suddenly close enough to him that he can feel his hot breath on his skin.
“No nap for you, Sammy” he taunts. “Go away,” Sam thinks, focusing on his immediate reality, angry at himself for not being able to control his own mind. He grips his mutilated palm, willing the sharp pain to ground him. He still can’t shake him, no matter how hard he presses in. He grunts in frustration, forcing his fingernail deeper into his wound. “Why won’t this work?” he thinks, using frustration to cope with his rising fear. “If I can’t get rid of him, what will he do to me?” his anxiety begins to bubble up. Sam’s worries become louder and Lucifer, he gets louder, too - confirming his fears.
“You wanted me, partner,” Lucifer spits at him. He wants revenge for being ignored for so long. He’s been itching to stick around and hurdle Sam into fully-fledged insanity. “It’s just words. He can’t hurt me. I’m here. He’s not real,” Sam reminds himself, trying his best to ignore Lucifer’s taunts. “He’s not here,” he thinks again……but then he starts to feel the heat.
Flames engulf his bed. It feels how it felt in hell; he can feel the prickling, deathly feel of his skin being simmered off. It doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself it’s not real. It is real, because if feels real. He whimpers in pain and fear, believing this will be his reality from now on. Lucifer yells in his ear, taking pleasure in his pain.
“Sammy? You’re breathing like you’re running a marathon. What’s up?” Dean turns around at him, annoyed.
“I’m burning,” Sam looks at Dean, eyes begging for help. He’s begging for Dean to keep him safe - but both he and Dean are helpless to keep Sam safe. He can’t be kept safe from the monster his mind is projecting. Sam shakes, intense eyes focused on Dean’s.
“Yeah it is hot. Turn on the fan,” Dean says and flips back face down. Sam shakes his head, “no, like I’m on fire, literally.” Dean turns around again, looks Sam up and down, “you don’t look on fire to me.” This does nothing to help Sam feel better. Dean realizes this and sits up, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He watches his baby brother tremble and breathe faster than his body ever should.
“Hey!” Dean says, unable to get a real response. He shakes his brother roughly by the shoulders, saying his name over and over, trying to snap him out of it. He doesn’t know that Lucifer is in Sam’s ear yelling his name louder, drowning out Dean’s voice. “He’s yelling,” Sam says, still panicked.
Then, Sam hears Dean’s voice from the left, then his right, louder and louder. Then he’s sees Dean by the bathroom. Then he sees Dean by the door. Dean is crawling out from under the bed. He’s at the fridge, cracking open a beer. He’s melting in the flames. He’s saying “balls-to-the-wall crazy.” He’s saying “you know where to aim it.” He’s saying “we get it, you’re bonkers.” Sam places his hands over his ears, collapsing into his lap, “there’s so many of you.”
Dean sits next to Sam, newly understanding that his best friend, his baby brother, the one person he’s spent his life trying to protect, has lost his shit. Sam is sweating, unable to catch his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He can’t believe anything around him. How could he?
Quietly at first Dean starts singing, “It's all the same…only the names will change.”
Sam’s shaking slows a bit. Dean continues, a little louder, “every day, it seems we're wastin' away…another place where the faces are so cold.” Sam is still holding his ears close, but his breathing has slowed considerably.
“I'd drive all night just to get back home.”
Sam slowly removes his hands from his ears and instead rests his head in his hands. Dean continues, full volume, “I’m a cowboy!”
Sam joins, quietly, “on a steel horse I ride,” Dean flashes a soft smile, almost in tears at his relief. They both continue, proudly, “I’m wanted…dead or alive.”
The flames extinguish themselves. There’s only one Dean left in the room. Sam can’t even express how grateful he is to have him. He takes slow breaths of relief. Dean pets the back of his little brother’s head, then swiftly gets up and moves toward the fridge. “I think we both deserve a drink,” he says and grabs two beers. He flips on the radio, playing a soft rock station and hands his brother an open bottle. He sits on the bed opposite his brother. They give each other a knowing look, clink their beers together and each take a uniform sip.