Fics like the devil you know

“De—eaa,” Sam forces out, his tongue burning at the unfamiliar word, a horrible fear setting deep within him like ice—Lucifer doesn’t like it when he speaks English. Lucifer doesn’t like it when he calls for Dean. He’s going to be mad he’s going to hurt him hurt him hurt him— Sam just doesn’t want to hurt anymore. A clamouring sound to his right shocks him out of his spiralling, and he recoils against a hard wall, opening his eyes—he didn’t realise he closed them, the Cage was always so dark, so thick and suffocating and cold—to see a face he’s dreamed of. One he thought he’d never see again. “Dean,” he finally manages to whisper, tears of relief and just a bit of fear pricking at his too-clear eyes. Dean says something back, the words garbled to Sam’s ears as if they’re coming from underwater, and then he’s coming closer, hands twitching by his sides and steps uncharacteristically hesitant. The wall that Death erected to protect Sam’s mind is unsuccessful, leaving the hunter to navigate centuries’ worth of memories and suffering. And after nearly two centuries of speaking Enochian, Sam isn’t sure he can remember how to speak English.