Pity The Saved, Not The Damned

Don't Send Me A Familiar Face

The whirling purple that acted as a shield fell flat into dust, circling around Sam. It's power died as Sam's eyes opened wide.

Coughing and choking as oxygen flooded into his lungs. Gasping as his body forcefully returned to life. Everything was painful as it figured out its natural rhythm once more.

Sam knew what was coming next as he rolled to his side, bile coming up through his throat, pouring out of his mouth. A watery fluid that Sam couldn't choke back down even if he wanted to.

It would be so much worse if he tried, he knew that all too well from experience.

There hasn't been a time where Sam's talked to or even dreamed about Lucifer where he didn't end up puking out whatever his body can.

And typically he has an empty or nearly empty stomach. At least this time he had some water in his system. It's a little less painful that way.

Lucifer's laughter could be hear echoing in Sam's mind, amused by Sam's suffering. Lucifer can play and act as if he isn't a monster but he forgets he's in Sam's mind at times. The cracks crumble and show exactly what he is.

Not leaving any room for error of what he's capable of. It's good though, because it ensures  that even when Sam isn't sure if this is the best way of doing this. That he's at least doing it for a reason.

The Devil can laugh at his misery but at least he can't do more than that. Sam can do it back and guarantee that he'll get the last laugh, keeping him stuck in his cage.

The laughter in his mind dropped and Sam rolled onto his back, holding his head as a sharp pain entered. It lasted for a few seconds before Sam slammed Lucifer out of his mind.

It won't last for long. Never does. But at least it's just him right now. For once.

Sam laid there panting as he allowed his body to recover. Death never gets any easier it seems.

He intended to lay there until he fully recovered. The longer he's down, the longer it takes for his body to get with the program and flow as it once did.

Although, it feels like sometimes he can never recover from it fully. There's times where he remains weak and vulnerable much longer than he should.

But he blames it on other things rather than his body decaying, unable to keep up with his efforts.

It's a good sign that his plan is working, but at times, it's his demise. When he's not prepared for it. A low growl was heard too close for Sam's comfort.

Branches snapping, and howls mixed in with growling. Sam knew who they were targeting, and knew how much of sitting duck he was.

He wished he still had the shield up, it kept demons, angels, and monsters alike away from his body, unable to possess or move him while he's dead. In fact, touching it made it stronger.

Which made it great, as well as it kept wildlife away, unfortunately though, it drops as soon as he's revived.

So now, he's fair game and his body wasn't prepared to fight off anything wanting to tear him apart.

Not exactly how he wanted to spend his time coming back to life, but expected.

He's not afraid of death, he obviously welcomes it more often than not, but he didn't want to be around Lucifer quite yet. Not when he could turn this into a game.

It's happened before, where a bear kept ripping Sam to shreds and Lucifer would revive him, rinse and repeat.

Lucifer didn't bother to taunt him that day, he was silent as he sent him back to his demise over and over again.

Didn't ask once if he would say yes, because it wasn't about that. Sam might've actually gave in that day. But Lucifer was enjoying his game too much to care.

It continued until the bear was tired and just left him be. It didn't even care Sam was in the territory anymore.

But there was no way these animals would easily tire of him. Sam wasn't up to it. He'd have to get away.

He took a deep breath before throwing himself into a roll into a stance. Happy that he managed to keep his balance.

Looking up briefly, he knew there was no way he could out climb anything trying to get him. Just as he can't outrun anything either.

He could attempt to get to his bag and at least pull out his gun. That was the only solid plan his brain could form, and with that he lunged towards it.

He something jump with him and land but ignored it in favor of pulling out his gun. He grabbed it, made sure it was loaded and faced in front of him.

Preparing for the worst to scratch or try and tear into him. But he was preparing for the wrong type of worst.

Instead of wildlife, his gun was met with a sympathetic look from none other than Castiel.

Sam considered still firing even though it wouldn't do anything. But didn't want to waste the ammo, instead he clutched onto his bag.

He'd rather a panther or a boar, anything over him. He cares about Castiel, he does, he just also knows where he's going to take him.

It seems like he's not in trouble, at least not anymore, which was good to know. Still, the only thing Sam could utter was,

"Fuck."

Castiel slowly placed a hand on Sam's arm, "I'm sorry," he said. Sam knew it was genuine but it didn't hurt any less. Castiel teleported them away, ignoring the pained look on Sam's face.

Just as they disappeared, the animals the lunged towards the pair were met with their own disappointment.

Sam wished he was still in the spot about to be teared apart, it would hurt less than what's about to come.