Sam still doesn't look at him. He stares at the molar in his hand, wondering how he's holding it when he still feels all of his teeth with his tongue. He blinks. "Ask what?" he says in a raw, low voice. Dropping the tooth, his hand hovers shakily to touch his sensitive face, and before he can really stop himself he's shivering violently where he sits.

"Lucifer said I'm not allowed to," he slurs. Dean's hollowed out. Sam wishes he could be. He curls up on himself, hands over his head, and cowers at the weights pressing down in his chest, crushing his lungs and heart. "M'sorry. Messed up your time to leave. I'm sorry."

He's scared. He's so fucking terrified, because he'll never die, and Lucifer will always be there to hear his 'no', until it's pleading and he's widdled down to nothing. And Dean will abandon him, because he's unwanted, because he tries too hard, lets his feelings ruin everything. Lets what he did ruin everything. "You didn't deserve that. M'sorry. It was supposed to just be me. It's my fault, so it's me."