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    Summary

    Logically, he knew Lucifer couldn’t hurt him. That had been proven by his inability to kill Dean with a snap of his fingers earlier - something they had Chuck to thank for, apparently. As underwhelming as he was, considering he was capital G “God”, sometimes he did prove himself. It was enough to keep Sam’s faith afloat, even when certain comments pierced him to his core.

     (“And I wasn’t going to mention this, but thank you so much for springing him.”
    “That wasn’t really the plan, um…”)

     But none of this stopped him from collapsing in a boneless heap behind closed doors, breathing as erratic as his heartbeat after being in the same room as him for too long. Logic held no sway over the tremble in his hands and the thumping in his head.

    (A short fix-it fic for 11.22)

    Language:
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