"You didn't make me do anythin'," Eliot corrected as he took in how uncomfortable Sam looked. He was bleeding into the water still, causing the hot water to grow pinkish with blood. If this was anywhere but hell, Eliot would be alarmed by how easily lethal that could be.

Whatever Eliot had decided to do, it definitely wasn't because Sam made him do it. Their time together simply showed Eliot the truth, that Sam was as much of a victim as he was, and that he suffered things only of Eliot's nightmares. Once that was established, it all went from there. He meant what he implied to Lucifer about respecting Sam too, the man had survived more than he could ever imagine, he witnessed it with his own eyes. If Sam had tried to actively convince Eliot instead, then things wouldn't have gone this way at all.

"It ain't your fault either. I know that. You wouldn't be apologizin' if it was." Eliot let his gaze slip away, jaw clenched. Although the ordeal was over, neither of them were relaxed, and taking note of that, Eliot carefully touched Sam's shoulder. "Turn around," he said softly, "I'll clean your back."