True enough, he's wriggled his way below the surface and Sam feels foolish for allowing it. If not for the lack of sleep, the excessive worry, the racing thoughts, he'd be fine. But the erosion can't be ignored even if Sam can't admit to himself or anyone else that he's tired of it (all over again).

"Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, far too fearful Lucifer's right to even consider walking away without refuting the claim. "And what happened to not doing this? Huh?" His voice is becoming less and less quiet. "Three seconds is all it took you to give up the charade."