[ Sulfur-covered landscapes is all that his brother offers. Hell on Earth. Torment, torture, and brimstone sustained by the mere existence of hope. The insidious feeling burns within him giving him ground to stand on. It holds steady and firm until he starts making sense. Sam was fighting a losing battle. He told Jack as much not long ago. It's why he was here trying to get ahead of it. ]

You weren't trying to protect him.

[ His hand's fist at his sides, nails digging into his palm from the sheer act of holding back the tide of anger boiling inside him with no escape. If he lashed out, if he took a step against him, the delicate threads holding the dream together would snap, breaking the peace. ]

You're using him like you use everyone.

[ He grits out, wings trembling in agitation, needing to take flight him and drag him out. ]

You don't care if he suffers. You only care about yourself.