Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been about two months since Sam and Dean separated, and Sam was beginning to get used to the civilian life style. Well, of course he wasn't a complete civilian, seeing as Satan himself came to Sam's dreams every night.

The first few times, Sam only ranted at Lucifer, screaming about how the angel had destroyed his life, how he was nothing but a monster, how Sam would never say yes. Through all of these sessions Lucifer only sat and listened, staying quiet until Sam had tired himself out. Then, one of two things would happen. Either Sam would sit silently while Lucifer regaled tales of Heaven, of Michael, of the Earth when it was new. Or, Sam would go onto the dream-bed and curl in on himself and cry silently. When he did that Lucifer would sit nearby silently, close enough Sam could feel his coolness, but not so close to make Sam lash out.

Now, though, after over sixty days of having Satan in his dreams, Sam didn't bother to try to get him to leave. He knew that was troubling, knew that he should probably call Castiel or Bobby or even Dean and beg them to help him, but every time he picked up the phone or sat down to pray, no words came to him.

That night when he "woke up" in his dream, he found Lucifer sitting in front of a chess board. On the side of the white pieces.

"Want to play?" The devil asked, looking just as calm and collected as he always did.

Sam sat down across from him, eyebrow raising. "Seriously? Figures you'd choose the light side."

Lucifer only smiled. "Have I ever told you the story of the time Gabriel and I tricked Michael into paying a prostitute?"

Sam huffed a laugh, watching Lucifer make the first move of the game, and then making his own. "Yes, you have. Michael thought he was helping a homeless woman out. He just about fainted when she started taking her clothes off."

Lucifer nodded, taking one of Sam's pawns. They played in peace for a while, a companionable silence filling the room. A thought in the back of his brain told Sam that he should probably have a serious problem with being a companion of Satan, but he truly couldn't bring himself to care. After all, Lucifer had been the only person to give a damn about him for the past two months.

"You know," Lucifer said conversationally. "I know this beautiful little villa, in southern Italy, best pizza you would ever have. But then again, you're not really a pizza person..." Lucifer stared at the chest board in thought. Suddenly he looked up with a smile. "Oh, I know! Athens, Greece. Caesar Salad. The sauce is so rich, the lettuce so fresh...Ironic, isn't it? The emperor Caesar was Roman, and yet Greece has the better Caesar Sal—"

"Lucifer," Sam interrupted sharply. "What are you doing?"

Lucifer tilted his head. "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Sam."

Sam snarled, getting to his feet so fast he knocked his chair back. He paced the room. "I mean this. You—you talking to me like you'll take me Italy and Greece, like you don't want to kill every human, like we're friends!" Sam stilled suddenly, whirling around to face the angel. "No, no, we're not friends! You want to take over my body, you want to kill everyone, you don't care about me you just want your precious true vessel!"

Lucifer stood calmly, his expression endlessly patient and kind. It made Sam even angrier. "Sam, I do care about you. I'm not here to manipulate you, I'm here because you're the only human whose company I enjoy."

"You're going to kill everyone," Sam hissed, his voice like venom. "You're going to destroy the world."

Lucifer's expression didn't change. "No, I'm not, Sam. Anyone you wish to save, I will save. Your list can be a thousand people long, and I will keep them all safe. And I'm not going to destroy the world, I'm going to save it."

Sam snorted and went back to his pacing. Lucifer sighed, stepping closer to Sam. "Sam, I have been visiting you every night for sixty-seven days. After the first two days, do you recall me ever telling you to concede, ever asking you to say yes, ever asking you where you were?"

Sam racked his mind, begging it to produce something. But the Devil was right; after telling Sam that he was his vessel, and saying it was his destiny, Lucifer had dropped it, choosing instead to exchange stories and just sit in silence, occasionally playing games.

"Dammit!" Sam screamed. He picked up a glass bowl and chucked it, feeling a small sliver of satisfaction as it shattered against the wall. The room was silent except for Sam's labored breathing.

After a minute Lucifer walked slowly closer, giving Sam a chance to back away if he so wished. But Sam had no energy left in him. His brother hated him, the whole world thought he was a monster, he'd started the fucking Apocalypse for god's sake. Every day he felt weaker and weaker, every day he craved the power he used to have when he was on demon blood. Part of him just wanted to sleep and never wake up again.

Sam flinched as Lucifer's hand wrapped around his arm, leading him over to the couch. Sam let him, not giving a damn about what happened. Lucifer sat him down and sat down next to him, resting his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Have you ever spoken to an angel's vessel? After they've housed an angel, I mean."

Sam started at Lucifer's voice, so used to his silent comfort when Sam went on a rage. "No, I haven't. You douches don't tend to let your meat-suits go in one piece."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Well, I have. Before my fall, I was curious what it was like to hold such a powerful being inside you. So I went down to Earth and tracked down the man who had been Gabriel's vessel." Lucifer was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "His name was...Anthony, I think. One of those evolved animals. I asked him what it felt like. He told me it was power beyond his wildest dreams. That an angels grace running through his veins was...indescribable." Lucifer chuckled. "He practically begged me to tell Gabriel to return to him, he missed it that much."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sam asked tiredly.

"I want you to have all the facts, Sam. All you know, or all you think you know, is that saying yes to me would mean the end of the world. I want you to know what it would mean for you. Whether you house me or not, many people will die, I won't lie to you. But if you do say yes, then we can protect everyone you care about. You can have power beyond your wildest dreams. You can feel that control that I know you miss so much."

"Why should I trust a single damn word that comes out of your mouth?" Sam said, but there was no real venom to his words.

"I promised I would never lie to you."

Before Sam could reply, Lucifer pressed a feather-light kiss to his hair and then disappeared.

Sam woke up, alone.

"—th, Keith!"

Sam's head snapped up. Standing right in front of him was Lindsey, his fellow bar-worker. She was staring at him, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Sorry, what?"

Lindsey smiled slightly. "What's up with you? I've been calling your name for like, five minutes."

Sam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Sorry, Lindsey. Lost in thought."

The waitress nodded her understanding. "Well, I was wondering if you could cover my shift tonight. I have to take care of some things..."

Sam nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, sure. I'll take it. I could use the extra cash."

Lindsey smiled brightly, her green eyes shining. A small part of Sam's mind noticed that she was quite pretty, smart and witty to boot. Just his type. He pushed the thoughts away—no need to get anyone else killed by being close to them.

The next few hours passed without incident, Sam pouring alcohol and listening to a bunch of drunk people bare their souls to him. Each time the bell over the door chimed made Sam nervous, worried that some demon or some angel had managed to track him down...or, even worse, that Lucifer had. It was one thing talking to the Devil in dreams, but actually talking to him in person would be...horrible; he had enough pressure to say yes without actually meeting the angel.

"Alright, Keith, lock up after you're done cleaning," Bill, the other bartender, called over her his shoulder as he walked towards the door. Sam gave a sound of agreement, focusing on cleaning the bar-top. He yawned, looking at the clock. Damn, 2am.

A few minutes later the bell over the door chimed. "Sorry, we're closed," Sam called without looking up.

"I'd hope you'd make an exception for me."

Sam froze, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. It wasn't possible! He'd covered his tracks perfectly, hidden himself in one bar of thousands in a random city. He was warded against angels finding him!

So how was Lucifer standing right in front of him?

He looked no different than he had just the night before; same green shirt and gray over-shirt, same blue jeans and brown shoes. He smile was just as calm and reassuring as Sam remembered, if with an added touch of triumph.

"Hello, Sam. It's great to see you in person. You look a lot less stressed while working," Lucifer mused, walking forward gracefully.

Sam stood up straighter, right hand going for the gun under the bar-top, left hand going for his cell phone. He began dialing Dean's number and rose the gun, pointing it at Lucifer's head.

Lucifer's face twisted like a disappointed parent, and he kept walking forward. "Sam, you know that won't kill me."

Sam shook his head. "No, but it'll hurt like hell," and with that he pulled the trigger. The Devil's head snapped back and he stumbled away. Sam didn't stay to watch what happened, he ran towards the door, raising the phone to his ear.

Relief flooded threw him when he heard Dean's grumbled, "What?"

"Dean! Oh god, help, Lucifer is—" Sam cried out as a strong hand grasped his hair, yanking him back. The cellphone flew from his hand as he fell to the floor.

Sam's back ached from the hard fall, and he let out a groan. Lucifer sighed above him, and Sam could hear him moving about the room, but his head was swimming from hitting it so hard, so he didn’t have the energy to look around and see what the Devil was doing.

“Dean, how wonderful to hear your voice,” Lucifer's calm drawl penetrated the fog of Sam’s mind, and made him groan. Dean, Dean, he had to get the phone because...'cause he couldn’t let Lucifer bait his brother... “I’m sorry, but Sam can’t come to the phone right now,” Lucifer’s voice was teasing, but there was an underlying edge to his tone. “Can I take a message?”

“Lucifer, stop,” Sam managed to groan out. He rolled onto his stomach, trying to find his gun. Where the hell had he dropped it?

Sam’s eyes landed of Lucifer; the angel was looking down at him with something like worry, which only pissed Sam off. “Are you alright, Sam? I didn’t mean to slam you so hard.”

Sam pushed himself to his knees and then his feet. He stumbled over to the bar, using it to hold himself up. Vaguely Sam could hear his brother through the phone, screaming at Satan himself. The back of Sam’s head was really pounding, and his vision was blurring, which should’ve been disconcerting, but Sam didn’t have time to concern himself with that because...because...wait, why? What was going on?

Sam’s brain became far too clouded to think straight, and then suddenly the ground was rushing towards him, or he was rushing towards the ground (he wasn’t sure), and someone was saying his name, and then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Sam awoke to something poking his cheek insistently. He groaned and rolled over, swatting at whatever it was to make it leave him alone. He was tired, he just wanted sleep!

There was a sound like chuckling, which made Sam frown—he didn't share his room with anyone...He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the sudden bright light. As if the world was reading his mind, his surroundings suddenly got darker, and he opened his eyes completely.

Looking around, Sam was shocked into full awareness. He was lying in an incredibly soft, four-poster, king-sized bed that had black silk sheets with blood-red swirling patterns on it. The room was clearly a rich one, with a plush carpet and posh furniture. There was a set of glass double doors that led out to what looked like a balcony, and then two other separate doors leading places Sam didn't know.

"Good, you're awake."

Sam tensed at the familiar voice, and remembered that he wasn't alone. Slowly he turned his head and saw a smiling Lucifer sitting in a chair right next to where Sam was laying down. The hunter immediately shot to his feet, backing away from the angel. He became light-headed at the motion, and swayed a little on his feet, but didn't stop moving away until he'd hit a wall. Sam looked around desperately for something to defend himself; he grabbed a nearby lamp and help it in front of himself like a weapon, feeling slightly ridiculous as he did so.

Lucifer frowned at the youngest Winchester's movements and remained sitting. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sam. I never have, and I never will."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, and what do you call slamming me against a wooden floor and causing me to black out?"

Lucifer sighed, actually looking regretful; it just pissed Sam off. "I am sorry about that, by the way. Sometimes I truly forget how fragile human are, and how strong I am in comparison."

"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded, almost cutting Lucifer off.

The Devil's brow furrowed in confusion, his head tilting slightly. "I'm not sure, he's not the Winchester that is important to me."

Sam rolled his eyes, his lips twitching of their own accord. "You were on the phone with him, Jackass. What'd you do to him?"

"Being on the phone with him doesn't mean I did anything to him," Lucifer said condescendingly, as if talking to a child. "I wasn't even in the same room as your brother." Lucifer smiled, amused. "If anything, Dean accosted me!"

Warmth filled Sam at the thought of Dean yelling at Satan himself for him, even when the two weren't on speaking terms.

His thoughts must've shown on his face, because Lucifer snorted and rolled his eyes. "Hell, you two Winchesters are incredibly codependent, aren't you?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, but otherwise ignored the comment. "How did you even find me? I never told you where I was."

Lucifer smiled, expression open and filled with...pride. It made Sam squirm uncomfortably. "Since your ribs have angel wards in them, yes it is true that I'd need someone to tell me where you are. But lately you come into the dreams feeling...hopeful. You have begun looking forward to it." Sam opened his mouth to object, but Lucifer put his hand up. "Hold on, I'm not done. You had started looking forward to our time together. I began to realize this when I started getting flashing from your mind of where you were. It started extremely wide, like just the Earth, but slowly it became clearer and clearer. You wanted me to find you, even if you didn't consciously realize it."

Sam was shocked silent. He had...led Lucifer to him. Had he wanted to? No, no way. Sure, he found peace in the dreams; no worries from real life, only a nice game or a nice conversation. But that didn't mean he wanted the devil to find him! Just because no one else wanted him—

Oh.

Dammit. Sam felt like hitting himself for his stupidity. Lucifer had said over and over that they were two halves of a whole; if that were true, then Sam's negative emotions would call out for help from, technically, itself. His own loneliness and Lucifer's kindness had told Satan exactly where he was.

Sam dropped the lamp and slumped, feeling defeated. It was his fault; everything was his fault, even his own predicament. He heard Lucifer stand up and stride towards him, but he didn't care.

"Well, you have me now," Sam said dejectedly. "When does the torturing begin?"

Lucifer made a sound of surprise; it made Sam curious, so he looked up. Lucifer looked genuinely shocked and appalled. "Torture you?" He asked incredulously, his tone matching his expression. "Why in my name would I torture you, Sam?"

It was Sam's turn to look incredulous. "Why wouldn't you? You finally have your precious vessel in your grasp, all you need is one little word from me. Why wouldn't you torture me?"

Lucifer stared at him, hard, for a few moments, his eyes searching Sam's face. Then, extremely suddenly, the archangel pulled the hunter into a tight hug. Sam tensed automatically, body going rigid. Lucifer stroked his hair, breath soft against his neck.

"You poor, broken boy," he murmured. "Everyone has left you, haven't they?"

Sam didn't understand what was happening—he was being hugged by Satan. He kept waiting for Lucifer to let go, to back away and leave like everyone else did, but the angel stayed put. Sam, against his better judgment, began to relax into the hug. It had been a long time since someone had held him, even longer since someone had held him just to make him feel better.

"I don't understand," Sam said stupidly after a minute. Lucifer pulled away, still close enough that Sam could feel the chill coming from him, but not touching the hunter. "Why are you...where am I?"

"A mansion where I've been living along with a group of demons. Don't worry," he continued at Sam's worried look. "They all know not to lay a hand on you. You have free rein to go anywhere you want on the grounds, as long as you don't leave the property. The demons have orders to stop you if you try." Lucifer's eyes glanced over Sam, taking in his appearance. "You will have a guard that will follow you everywhere for the first weeks or so, just to make sure you don't wander off."

Sam scowled. "I get it, I'm a prisoner. I know who you are, Lucifer, I won't say yes to you."

The fallen angel simply sighed with a small shake of his head. "Let's focus on keeping you healthy first, hmm?"

Sam had been at the mansion for just over two weeks when the incident happened.

Overall, the demons had been leaving him alone, except, of course, the demon who was assigned to follow Sam around everywhere (something neither of them were too happy about). At first Sam had been incredibly uncomfortable seeing demons everywhere, but after a few days he had nothing to do but get used to it.

Sam saw Lucifer at every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but usually not other than that—apparently the Great Adversary had more important things to do than stalk his vessel around (thank god). But, when Sam did see the angel, they spent a good amount of time together, playing chess and just talking. Because of his usual aloneness, Sam had taken to trying to find anything and everything to occupy himself with. One of his favorites was Lucifer's library, a large room filled to the brim with all sorts of books. It was the only place at the mansion Sam truly loved.

After sixteen days, Sam was quite used to everything that happened in Lucifer's home. He knew the "names" of all of the demons present, knew where every room and secret passageway was, knew Lucifer's general schedule. It was, actually, a pretty routine and peaceful life. Because of this, when Sam was woken to the sound of gunfire in the middle of the night, he was severely shocked.

Sam popped to his feet, throwing the silk sheets off of himself. Sam swiftly moved towards his bedroom door, his hunter training kicking in. He grabbed the knife that Lucifer had given him a few days before, holding it expertly. Quickly he opened the door, once again feeling grateful it was no longer locked at night.

The gunfire got louder as Sam moved silently through the halls, letting him know he was getting closer. He could hear yells and screams, something that made his heart beat very quickly.

When he got to the stairs, Sam could see bursts of light that indicated gunfire. Sam felt himself want to curse Lucifer out for not giving him a gun instead of a knife, his stupidly weak reason of "needing to earn it" sucking a lot considering the current situation.

Taking a deep breath, the younger Winchester moved quickly and silently down the staircase. He listened intently for a second, then followed the sound of gunfire (which was becoming less and less, as were the screams) to the left, towards Lucifer’s private study. Sam could see the bright bursts again, and he took a deep breath, moving forward.

Slowly he inched around the corner, getting a look for whoever had the guns. He could see the shapes of a group of people, at least six of them standing there, outlined by the moonlight. Seeing an opening, Sam leapt forward, slashing out with his knife.

Out of the figures yelped in surprise and turned around, raising his gun quickly. Sam was faster, though, and more skilled, so he disarmed the man with a few well-placed punches. With a hit to the man’s head, Sam turned to face the others, who were just coming out of their shock. Five guns lifted towards him, so Sam went into action, swerving and turning, throwing punches and kicking, slashing with his blade.

He grunted in pain as white fire licked through his shoulder when a bullet managed to hit him. He continued fighting, but the people had him outnumbered and he was getting tired. Another bullet hit him, going straight through his leg.

Sam went to the ground with a gasp and a grunt, slamming down, his hands catching his weight. He felt a foot slam into his stomach over and over and over, feet all around him kicking every body part. He tried to curl in on himself, tried to protect himself from more injury, but it didn’t work well.

As if from somewhere far away, he heard a door bang open, heard his name called loudly in fear, heard the people around him scream and then he felt the kicking stop. Sam sighed in relief, body uncurling slightly. Shifting made him hurt all over, his two bullet wounds screaming and his head pounding and his stomach and chest tight in pain.

After another minute he felt two hands rolled him onto his back, and he flinched at the contact. “Oh, Sam…” A familiar voice said sadly. “It’ll be alright, I swear it.” Suddenly Sam felt the ground fall away from him, his body lifting into the air in a disorienting manor. He choked back his nausea, not wanting to vomit all over himself and his rescuer.

For what could’ve been a minute or fifty—Sam didn’t know—he was in the air, until he was put down gently on the familiar touch of his bed. A hand ran over his forehead and the fogginess cleared slightly, the pain all over his body lessening until it was almost completely gone. He sighed in relief, happy for the pain to be gone so easily.

“Sleep now, alright? I have some...business to take care of.” Sam nodded absently in response, then slipped into blissful unconsciousness.