It had been over a week now since he had last slept. The couple of hours of dreamless sleep Amara had given him the other day were nice, a great break from the lack of any sleep, the headaches and the screaming, dancing just constantly there Lucifer that never let him have any peace. Little catnaps of ten or so minutes here and there were the only thing keeping him from going completely insane, but in the long run, they made it worse. His body knew what he needed, and it wasn't a few minutes of shut-eye every few hours. And more recently, Lucifer had taken to moving things, making them vanish sometimes. He'd had more than one pitcher of water dumped over his head, sitting down one of the tables in the war room only to be pelted with projectile Skittles that had actually felt like little BB's when they hit his skin. All of that felt real, but Dean had told him that this was all in his head, the images of Lucifer, the disgusting, rotten food when he tried to eat. But knowing that he was imagining it all somehow didn't really help to make any of it go away.
He wished it would go away.
To keep himself occupied, because staring at this imaginary image of screeching Lucifer did tend to get old, Sam wandered around the Bunker. Looking in the library at books he hadn't read yet and making a list of what seemed interesting to him, he tried the internet and the copious amounts of cat videos there but he had no concentration, the same with the show about their lives. Lucifer seemed to like that one and never shut up as he tried to watch. The last thing he could do that might be remotely not boring was to go outside, maybe count the stars if he could see them. Or try to. But sadly, outside brought no peace either. After the first few minutes he was 'attacked' by a... flying eyeball. That shot fire at him when he ran from it. And there were more, at least a dozen, really fast, and there was a figure lurking in the shadows that he couldn't quite see. It was only luck that had his gun on him, and without even thinking that none of this was in his head - or really, not caring - he began to fire.