– Look at how he doesn’t call anybody else for help. He’s calling you, Castiel. He’s begging you to stop and you just cut him harder! –

He laughs, a sick, silver laugh that pleasantly strokes your Grace but makes you want to throw up.

You try not to focus on Dean’s eyes, on Dean’s screams, on Dean’s please, Cass, don’t do this.

– It’s not real –

Lucifer turns around with a sympathetic look on his face.

– Does it look like it’s not real to you? –

And, Heaven help you, it just doesn’t.

You’ve already missed so many pieces of your memory along the way. Who can say this isn’t just another fragment you forgot, another slice that simply hurt too much for you to keep remembering?

Who can say you didn’t kill Dean over and over, betrayed his faith a thousand times?

Who can say you didn’t?

– Wanna get closer to the screen, little brother? –

The room becomes bloody, the air a scent of death.

In front of you, chained to the wall, Dean is looking in your eyes with so much undying hope that it hurts probably more than all those wounds.

In your hand, the blade.

And no matter how many times you scream no, no, stop, don’t, I never wanted to hurt him, Dean, I'm so sorry, your body won’t listen.

Lucifer chews some pop-corn, gaze fixed to the screen.

Then he smiles and, with a low voice, he mutters:

– Showtime –