Where the hell were they? Sam looked at the comically large margarita being held by the Statue of Liberty and, yeah. He did think about how much Matty would love the place.

Then Raphael was looking at him and Sam looked back, trying to focus on just that. Trying to ignore the growing pressure of the devil in his head.

"He's always there," Sam whispered and he hated how his voice sounded. Scared and on the verge of panic, younger than he was. The kind of voice that would call out for his big brother. Only his big brother wasn't here, Raphael's was. He swallowed as he looked at Raphael, remembering so clearly when Lucifer had taken him over. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to lock him out."