Chapter Text
For a fleeting moment, when Sam wakes up, he feels nothing but contentment. Eyes closed, body apparently unfettered, he's warm, weighed down comfortably by quilts, and there's no sound or movement beyond the regular breathing of the chest beneath his cheek.
...It's still just you and me, in the cage, spooning in the bunk.
In a rush, all of Lucifer's words, the smell and weight of him, come back to Sam, and he rears back, shoving away from the soft warm thing beneath him as hard as he can. And the sound it makes isn't what he expected--quieter, higher pitched than Lucifer. But before he can adjust, he's caught from behind.
"Whoa! Take it easy, Sam! Take it easy!" Dean grips Sam by the shoulders. "Relax, man! What's amatter with you?!"
Soft hands capture his face, and the swoop in Sam's stomach brings tears to his eyes. Because it's hope, and he can't trust it. He tries to shy away.
“It's okay! It's okay, Sam. Hold--Hoooold on. We’re not gonna hurt you.”
”P-please…I know it’s not you, Hay-Hayden!!" Sam wrenches against Dean's hold. "Please, Lucifer! I d-d-didn't mean t-to pretend!"
”I’m not Lucifer,” Hayden replies patiently. “Sam, look at me. Look at me.” She cradles the back of his head. “Ssshhhhhh shh shhh. You’re not pretending anything. Look at me, Sammy."
Hardly able to think, Sam whimpers, trying again to pull away from her.
”Let go,” Hayden murmurs to Dean, who releases his brother. Sam tries to get small, but Hayden steadies him, keeps him upright. “You're okay, Sam. You're okay. This is real--we're real.”
He begins to stutter helplessly—not even making words—so afraid she's setting up the big fall. She feels so real, but then, so did Lucifer.
"Ssshhhhhhh, sssshhhhhh. You're alright." She pets his hair. "I told you I would always find you--"
”H-he found m-me!! HE f-found me, Hayden!!”
"No, Sammy. He wasn't there. I—”
"No!! No, Hayden, he w-was real, Hayden!!" He wants to tell her what happened, needs her to insist it wasn’t real, but he can’t breathe. Lucifer's cock is down his throat, his body crushing Sam's lungs, and Sam explodes in violent tears. He shrieks as he feels Dean’s hands again. “No!! No, please, I'm n-not ready!! I’m not ready, please, I’m not ready yet!!”
Hayden leans, and Dean pushes Sam with her, back into her lap. He seizes her around the middle, probably almost knocking the wind out of her a second time. But she embraces him, tucking him in her center. Another involuntary shriek as the blanket returns, and he's crying so hard now that he doesn’t track what Hayden says to Dean, or Dean’s reply. He cries out a third time when he feels the couch cushions shift.
“Ssshhhh shhh shhhhhhh. I gotcha. I gotcha, Sam. Listen to me. Ssshhhhhh shhh. I'm here. I’m not leaving and I’m not letting go. Breathe for me, sweetheart."
"I-I...I--he--it--h-hurt!"
"He hurt you?"
Sam nods, a truly pathetic whine coming out of his throat. Hayden tucks the blanket tighter around him and begins to rock, her chin on his head.
"H-Hayden--" He never wants to say it and he wants to get it out so he's not alone with this terrible memory. He tries again but can't even get through her name, too overwhelmed by the words he's trying to say.
" I'm right here," she promises. “It’s just me touching you, and I’m not gonna hurt you. Ssshhhhh, Sammy, I gotcha. Was it something he said, something he did, or both? Both..." She nods against him, carding his hair.
"He--r-r--ra--p-p--"
Her voice drops so low he almost can't hear her over the physically painful sobs coming out of his chest. "He raped you?"
Somehow his cries intensify even further, and he can barely get his hand to do his bidding, reaching up to Hayden's lips. She almost flinches, surprised, and takes his fingers in hers. But he's sure she doesn't understand, and he needs her to.
"M-my m-mmmouth!!" It bursts out of him, and, somewhat 'uncorked,' he stammers.
She takes a beat. Then she gets it. "He raped your mouth."
"He s-said I made you up b-because I-ve-ve gone crazy!! And th-then h-he tied m-m-me down and--and--Hayden--" Keep pretending you’re safe… ”PLEASE DON’T GO!”
Hayden adjusts him, gathers him up and pulls him even closer so their foreheads come together. “Hey, hey, hey. I won't go. I'm not going anywhere. You're not crazy. Ssshhhhhh, shhhhhhh, breathe--"
”I c-c-couldn’t breathe! Hayden, I think he’s-s st-still—still—”
"Sam." She looks deep in his eyes, cradles his cheek. "Listen to me. Has Lucifer ever taken you from me?"
"W-w-wh--"
"In all this time, whenever I am with you, has Lucifer ever taken you away from me? No, he hasn't," she confirms as Sam barely manages to shake his head, hot tears pouring down his cheeks and splashing onto hers. "And he won't take you from me now. D'you understand me?"
He stares back at her, teetering on the precipice of believing , searching her face…hoping…and frightened beyond words that he’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life. She lets him search for a few more moments before saying softly,
”I’m here.”
And Sam trusts her. He clenches his eyes shut and pushes his forehead against hers, pushes his nose against her cheek, starts to wrap around her shamelessly, like a vine, giving in to the primal need for comfort. She slips her fingers beneath his shirt, like she did before, and strokes low on his back, beginning to sway again.
"I'm so sorry, babe. I know it was awful, but I promise it wasn't real. Just PTSD being a bitch and a half. A bitch and a billion, really."
...For a miraculous split second, Sam snorts in laughter. It's exactly the sort of thing Hayden would say and Lucifer would never think to. He feels her smile against his hair and an unexpected wave of security washes over him. He cuddles into her, shivering in a post-adrenaline sort of way.
"You want another blanket?"
He nods, gulping a bit more air between sobs now. Hayden's fingers change between swirls and lazy waves over his skin, and she keeps whispering reassurances as the room spins slower and slower. Sam’s whole body aches, and part of him wants to drift back off to sleep. He nuzzles Hayden a little again, drinking in the feel of her. He hears Dean coming back into the room and can't summon any embarrassment. He doesn't care what Dean thinks of this. On the off chance Lucifer was right, Sam's holding tight to Hayden. Because she’s also right. She interrupted Lucifer--twice now, actually. And he’s never interrupted her once.
"Two more things please--another blanket and one of your beers?"
"Uh...it's like 3 PM?"
"Like that's ever stopped you. But you don't have to open it."
Sam keeps his eyes closed as he listens to Dean walking away again, part of him very much wanting never to move or speak ever again. But he is thirsty, so when Hayden shifts and murmurs, " Hot chocolate or bottled water?" Sam pries his puffy eyes open and croaks, "Water."
She helps him sit up more properly, arm around his shoulder as he keeps shivering. "'s okay. Just hang in there. You're gonna feel better soon."
He takes the bottle from her and raises it to his lips, but the moment it makes contact, a bolt of adrenaline strikes, and he almost hurls the thing across the room. Like she anticipated it, Hayden catches his hand in time, steadying and lowering it back to his now wet lap. A fresh wave of tears break out as he stutters apologies.
"It's okay! It's okay, I understand. Look at me. Right at me," she coaxes, squeezing his shoulder as his breath threatens to spiral back out of control. "You're alright. Everything's alright. Just some water."
"I d-don't want it."
"Can you try one more time? Sshhhh, it's gonna be okay. You're getting dehydrated is all. Let's try one more time. I'm gonna hold it with you this time. The bottle isn't the same texture, not the same temperature. It's cold plastic, and it's gonna feel different, I promise. And we're gonna go really slow. And it doesn't work, that's okay."
Reluctantly, Sam lifts the bottle again, hand trembling well before it gets to his mouth. Hayden supports his elbow, murmuring, "Tiny sip at first." He tips his head back more, keeps the plastic rim as far from his lips as he can, and dumps a splash of water on his tongue. The edge bumps his teeth and he flinches, but Hayden holds him steady, soothing him. Concentrating as hard as he can on the feel of her hand rubbing between his shoulders, Sam tries again, and this time he gets a good dose of cold water. Then his animal instincts take over, and suddenly he's sucking it down despite the voice in his head screaming protests. Sam crushes her hand, telling himself over and over, she's here. She's here. It feels different. It's different. It's different.
The bottle's almost empty when he breaks away, and almost immediately, his head feels much clearer for it. However, it makes other emotions easier to feel. Like humiliation for falling apart like a little bitch. More tears erupt--not helping his case.
"You're doing great, Sammy. Everything's okay." She's still rubbing his back.
He gulps, looks around the room and tries to steady his breathing. He believes her, but the fact remains that was more real than any nightmare he's ever had. Maybe two things could be true--he's not in the cage, but his brain really had broken. He'd been trapped there long enough. Been hurt and frightened and humiliated and terrorized long enough. It's not as though he'd expected any better when he'd jumped.
Dean comes back in, looking his brother over as he hands Hayden the quilt. It's subtle, but muscles in Dean's face relax, probably relieved his little brother isn't bawling like an infant anymore. Sam drops his eyes, face flushing anew.
"Feelin' better, Sammy," Dean asks, handing Hayden the blanket.
Sam nods as she wraps him in it. "S-sorry for...losing it."
Dean sits down too close for Sam's liking, but at least they're not touching. "What the hell happened back there? What was all that stuff about 'pretending?'"
"I...uh...'m sorry..." He squirms a little, hoping it doesn't show.
Hayden picks up one of the mugs, warning, "Be kind about it, Dean."
Dean gives her a look, but he clears his throat and says (less gruffly), "What did you mean you 'didn't mean to pretend.' Pretend what?"
"Th-that..um...you're real. That I'm n-not really in the cage. H-he..." Sam swallows, suddenly wishing there was more water while simultaneously unsure he could drink it. "He...sh-showed up and said...he was enjoying this 'fantasy' b-because..." God, please don't cry again. Just for five minutes, could he not burst into hysterics? "He liked taking it all aw-way." He hung his head as his voice trembled too much to continue. And Dean doesn't want to know the other stuff, anyway.
"'s okay," Hayden assures him, setting a heavy, warm mug in his hands and speaking low, like Dean's not there. "Just hold onto it for a second. Focus on the feel of it in your hands."
"But you don't really believe that, do you?" Dean asks, then elaborates at Hayden's glare, "I mean, why would the devil let him believe he's living in a dream palace like this when he could be kicking his ass around the cage?"
Sam flinches, and Hayden answers for him, "He just said, moron. So he can pull the rug out from under him."
Dean ignores her. "Is that all that happened, Sam?"
And all Sam can do is shake his head. He tries to raise the mug and only manages with Hayden's help, really hoping Dean doesn't press this. He's just barely keeping his act together as it is. Dean does press.
"Is there something I need to know?" ( Sam shakes his head again, unable to look in Dean's direction now.) "Hayden?"
"He's not going crazy, Dean," she sighs. "As I've already reminded him, it's PTSD."
"Oh, good, he's not going crazy. He's just seeing and talking to the devil in public."
"Yeah, babe," She answers, voice hard and impatient. "Because unfortunately for you, your brother is human, and he's been through a fuck ton. So yeah, he's gonna get confused sometimes. But he's not broken and he's not crazy. It's gonna get better over time. It already has gotten better. If you're remember--"
"I'm trying not to," Dean says quickly. "I know he's better, alright? Relax. Just try to keep yourself from getting dragged to some psych ward by the cops, okay, Sammy?"
Nausea sweeps through Sam as he remembers, once again, that he hadn't just lost it in front of Hayden and Dean--he'd lost it in front of an entire grocery store. He looks away, wishing he could disappear.
"Ignore your idiot brother," Hayden tells him quietly.
He wants to smile, he knows that's what she's trying for, but he's overwhelmed and tired and shivery and embarrassed.
Louder again, to Dean, Hayden says, "You never got the journal he was talking about at the store, by the way."
Dean brightens a little. "Oh, yeah! Be right back."
Hayden rolls her eyes to Sam as Dean closes her front door, but her voice is very gentle. "Breathe a little deeper, sweetheart. Everything's alright. Everyone at the store has already moved on with their day--Dean just doesn't want to lose you, and he doesn't have a better way to say so. Because, again, he's an idiot." She puts her hands over his, trembling around the mug. "Everything is okay. When you're ready, t ake another couple drinks of coco. That will help--your blood sugar is probably low."
He does drink--it's much easier to sip from the mug than drink from the bottle. The rich taste, one he hasn't had in a long, long time, grounds him. And like the water, the coco clears his head a little more. But the fact is he's wiped out, even if, as Dean said, it was barely 3 in the afternoon.
"Good," she praises. "I wanted you to see something. Because we've been here before, right? You've worried or thought this wasn't real before. I just wanted to show you it's all tracking like it should. We talked about going to the grocery store yesterday; we got up this morning, had coffee and the last of the cereal--"
Internally, Sam flinches, but holds his ground (holds his breath, too).
"Then I drove us to the store, and you talked about maybe reading the journal Dean's going to get, right?" (Sam nods, still waiting...) "And then you got a little spooked by the deli, I think, but you worked through it really well. And Dean came and found us right after that, and he showed you something he found. D'you remember what it was?"
More nervous than he wanted to admit to himself, Sam nods. "A beer." He looks at the one on the table.
"D'you remember the name?"
He nods again--he really can't tell if he's breathing. "Im..Impala..Pale Ale."
Hayden smiles. She reaches over and picks up the bottle and holds it out to him. He peeks at her face one more time, but sees no hint of a setup. And then a rush of air fills his lungs as he looks down and recognizes the label. The threads of the narrative pull together, sew up again--maybe even a little tighter than before.
Sam can't explain his shivering, nor why his eyes are watering yet again, even though he's smiling a little. "Thanks," he croaks.
She takes it back and replaces it on the table, then pulls Sam into a hug. "I told you I'd always find you. No matter what you're facing, no matter how far you think you've gone from me, or from here, I will bring you back. Or Dean will. You really are safe."
Sam waits a beat...and hears no echo in his brain. He ducks his head into Hayden's, sighing in relief. It feels like his lungs have doubled in size. She cards his hair and says nothing, seeming to understand how much he needed that last piece of assurance. And there's another tug of the threads, another stitch, securing him. Because Hayden knows Sam as thoroughly as Lucifer did. And for every cruel act of Lucifer's, she's answered with a loving one.
And Sam was confident, in that moment, that Hayden would always get the last word.