Sam/Ruby
In his lifetime, Sam Winchester had endured many, many terrible things. Being a hunter, particularly one with his last name, was an automatic grant for him to pursue a lifetime of grief, horror, and hurt. He had lost his entire family once, he had discovered that his entire life had been rigged up and played out to the desires of demons from day one, and he had become so engulfed in self-hatred and desperation at a time that he had been willing to let himself fall into the darkest of places without ever wanting to look back. All of those things would be enough to break a normal person, but Sam had endured. He had kept fighting, he had held it together, and he always found a way.
That was all until he dove into the cage with the Devil. In the time that he had spent there, Sam quickly discovered that Lucifer was a petty, petty creature who held grudges like no other. To say that what the archangel did to him was torture wouldn't quite do the entire process justice. Lucifer ripped Sam apart in millions of different ways, both physically and emotionally, and never - not even once - stopped long enough to give Sam a chance to resurface from the agony of it all. For a time, Sam dove into his memories and created fantasies of home and the people he had left behind to keep himself from going completely mad. It only worked for a short while. Once Lucifer caught on, he turned those fantasies and memories into twisted nightmares, thus stripping Sam of what little sanity he had left.
And so, when a blinding light ripped him from inferno that Lucifer had been using to literally incinerate Sam during a more physical stage of torment, it didn't come as a great surprise that he had landed in the middle of a cemetery. His abrupt fall came with a cry of anguish carried over from being burned alive only seconds before, but the sound quickly cut out once he crashed into the ground, rolled onto his back, and realized that the blue-orange roar of flame had vanished, along with the pain.
Memories, then. Or a forced nightmare. Whichever course Lucifer had taken, Sam had long since learned to roll with the punches and let him do whatever he wanted. Except, strangely enough, he didn't feel all too scared of what was to come. He should have been. Sam knew that. But he didn't. He dug his fingers into the grass and pulled himself into a sitting position, dark hair falling into his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. Graves. It was getting dark. There was a scuffle of sound behind him and, for a moment, Sam became convinced that he had been dropped into a scenario in which he would be facing a hunt gone wrong. Most likely than not, that sort of thing tended to involve him watching a hunting partner die - usually Dean - before being murdered by whatever monster they had been tracking down himself.
But he didn't find monsters. Only people. People that he once knew.
Sam didn't say anything. He pushed himself to his feet and looked to them all, waiting. If Lucifer was going to kill them for giggles, then he'd want Sam to watch it happen.