Chapter Text
It turned cold when Lucifer walked into Hell. Shards of frost crawled up the iron bars lining rows of cells, their inhabitants shivering, their screams choked into silence. Lucifer rewarded them with a smile as he passed by, even though it wasn’t their own doing; the air was simply thinner with him here. Only when he entered his throne room did he hear a chorus of gasping breaths and cries of fresh terror.
It’s him! It’s the Devil himself! It’s–
The iron doors shut behind him.
All of the low ranking demons fell to their knees immediately, bowing forward until their foreheads touched the stone floor. The high ranking ones, the esteemed Princes of Hell, knelt on one knee with their heads down, two on each side of Lucifer’s throne.
Lucifer smirked. “I see you’ve all been saving my seat.”
Three of his Princes were noticeably tense. Lucifer assumed those were the ‘dickless heathens’ that Azazel spoke of. His own creations, abandoning him and forgetting their purpose. Did the betrayal ever end?
Azazel spoke. “I ruled over Hell in your absence, my king. Never once did I sit on your throne,” he added, casting a snide look at his siblings.
Lucifer knew that the other Princes would need to be punished. But he was in a good mood, so he opened his arms and asked, “No welcome home gifts?”
Dagon practically stumbled forward, quick to kneel again. “You have my sincere apologies for ever doubting your return, Father, and I promise to be in your eternal service.”
Father. She was trying to appease him. Always the clever one, his Dagon. That’s why Ramiel and Asmodeus followed her lead, stepping forward and kneeling again to apologize and pledge their loyalty.
Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “Doing your job is not a gift. It’s a requirement, unless anyone here would like to be my pet instead of my Prince.” The look on their faces made him smile. “That’s what happens if you get demoted.”
The three demons exchanged wary looks.
Azazel sounded almost eager when he spoke again. “I have an actual gift for you, my king. He could even be your pet, if that’s what you wanted.”
“He?”
A slow, satisfied grin. “Sam Winchester, the one who freed you.”
Sam Winchester. Lucifer tasted the name in his mind, sifting through Nick’s memories to see if he knew anything about Sam. He did not. Lucifer returned to his own memories, just before the Cage was opened, and found the image of a young man with fearful eyes, holding onto another man who looked just as scared.
Brothers. Lucifer felt it like a bolt of lightning, an unavoidable truth. The two were brothers with a bond that went deeper than blood or kinship. And the younger one, with guilt buried under his fear, that was Sam Winchester. That was the one who was tricked into freeing Lucifer. That was his gift from Azazel.
Lucifer’s lips curled. He had no love for humans, but he could appreciate their physical forms. Whether he was interesting enough to keep, well, Lucifer couldn’t tell that from a single look. But he couldn’t let such a gift go to waste; Sam deserved that much for freeing him.
“And how am I getting my gift? Wrapped up with a pretty little bow?”
Azazel chuckled. “I can wrap him up if you’d like. I don’t need to keep his brother alive now that the plan is complete, and anyone else protecting the boy–”
“Hold on.” Lucifer frowned. “Kill his brother?”
Azazel hesitated. “Well, that would be the easiest way to get your gift. Dean Winchester sold his damn soul and went to Hell just to save his baby brother – he’ll do everything in his power to keep him away from you. Not that he’s more powerful than you,” the demon hastily added, when Lucifer’s silence stretched on.
Lucifer considered this.
If the human was able to escape Hell after selling his soul, he must have friends in high places; only an angel could free a condemned soul. Which meant Heaven, and possibly Father, had big plans for Dean Winchester if they needed him on Earth. Killing the human again would only be a waste of time, and if Azazel knew what the angels were planning, he would have said it already.
Besides, why would he kill someone Sam loved without reason? For all he knew, Sam would cower before the Devil and give himself willingly for his loved ones to be spared; he seemed like the self-sacrificing type.
“Leave the brother alive for now,” Lucifer decided. “Tell me about my gift.”
Azazel grinned. “I picked him out myself when he was just a baby. Out of all of the special children, Sammy was always my favorite.”
“Does he still have powers?”
That got him a sigh. “Yes, but the demon blood is required to keep them from becoming dormant, and now he’s trying to wean himself off the stuff.”
That wouldn’t do. Humans were fragile, and even if you could fix their bodies, it would keep damaging their psyches until they ceased to be entertaining. But with the demon blood, Sam could endure more than a human could, and he could fight back too.
Not win, obviously, but still. A human with false hope was harder to break than one without any, and Lucifer liked toys that lasted.
Casting a dismissive look at the other Princes, they scattered and fled the room, since it was Azazel who had the most to offer right now. Lucifer approached his throne and sat down with a slow, pleased exhale.
It wasn’t Heaven. It would never be home, but it was his. Lucifer was back, with all of his pain transformed into power, settling into the body of his true vessel, singing with victory. But the war wasn’t won yet. Heaven must have a strategy, and if Dean Winchester was one of the game pieces, maybe Lucifer’s new toy knew the play.
He smiled at Azazel, eyes burning red.
—
Finding his true vessel was easier than finding his gift. Nick was created for him, put on this Earth and made to suffer, all for Lucifer to take control and make the pain bearable. He couldn’t make it disappear, nobody could do that, but he could give the man something that he desperately wanted: revenge. That would come eventually.
Sam Winchester wasn’t made for him; he was being given to him. When he truly belonged to Lucifer, he would never be able to hide from the archangel. If any other angel tried to carve Enochian into his bones, they would stay clean. If he tried to get it as a tattoo, the ink would not penetrate his skin without Lucifer’s permission. If he tried to draw it on himself with a blade, the scars would heal over instantly.
But despite the inconvenience, there were other ways of finding Sam.
The easiest was to appear in Sam’s dreams. It didn’t give Lucifer full access to his mind, but the archangel was close to it. A barrier, as reflective as fogged glass, just clear enough for Lucifer to see figures moving. When he touched it, his head throbbed as words, names, places, things, memories – every component of Sam’s dream came out in a high-pitched ring, echoes in the sound of whispers.
It gave Lucifer enough. Not everything he wanted to know, but enough to find the dream that Sam was currently having and slip inside, turning the human’s canvas into his own.
—
“Lucifer,” Sam whispered, like the name was choking him. Lucifer liked how it sounded coming from his parted lips, and you could really see the whites of his pretty hazel eyes when they got bigger. Lucifer liked that too.
“Sam,” he said back, almost fondly. “You’re hiding from me.”
Sam staggered back, putting the queen-sized bed between them. He was having a heart-to-heart with Jessica before Lucifer interrupted, and then Jessica was gone. He could have easily taken on her form, but it was better to keep some tricks up his sleeve; he might need them if his new toy took too long to open up to him.
“The ward,” Sam remembered. He sounded relieved. “You can’t find me.”
“Well, that’s not totally true. I found you here, didn’t I?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”
This was going about as expected. Lucifer already had his lines prepared.
“I want to thank you, Sam. You freed me.” He smiled when Sam tensed, eyes twisted up with shame and guilt. “That deserves a reward, and what I have to offer is one of the greatest honors any human could have.”
Sam scoffed. “Let me guess. You want me to join your side.”
“That’s part of it.”
“Don’t tell me you want Hell to have a queen.”
His snark made Lucifer grin. “No, Sam. I want my gift.”
Confusion was a good look on Sam. His brow furrowed like the answer would come to him if he thought hard enough, and his head tilted to the side in the slightest, almost imperceptible way. “What gift?”
Time to drop the real bombshell.
“You, Sam. You’re my gift.”
The revulsion was instant. “No. Freeing you was a mistake, I never–”
“Mistake or not,” Lucifer said, and he was rounding the bed. Sam stepped back, trying to keep that distance between them, but Lucifer wanted to get closer. Wanted the human to know that his space didn’t belong to him anymore. “You were the one, and my son has high praise for you. It’s just as much an honor for me to have you.”
That was a lie, but he wanted to see if it sweetened Sam up.
It didn’t.
“No.” It came out as a rasp, followed by a forced laugh. “No, you can’t just–! I’m not your property. Tell your son to give you a cake or something, not a person.”
Lucifer lifted his eyebrows. “Are you a person? Last time I checked, people didn’t drink demon blood.” Sam’s jaw twitched with the effort not to flinch. “My son also told me you’re trying to sober up. It won’t last, Sam. It’s more than just an addiction; it’s in your nature.”
“You’re lying.”
Lucifer splayed his hands. “If I wanted to lie, wouldn’t I come up with a better story for winning you over? Come on, Sam. You don’t need more liars in your life.”
Sam gave him an incredulous look. “But you think I need you?”
That stung a bit. Not because Lucifer wanted to be needed, but he had heard Sam’s prayers through the barrier. Had seen him on his knees, praying to a God who wasn’t listening, but still chose to believe that He was. And yet here was Lucifer, going to the trouble of speaking with this human, knowing he would be shunned. Out of the two divine beings, which one was more likely to answer his prayers?
Even if it was just for Lucifer’s own gain, it was better than nothing.
Lucifer twisted the walls of the room, shrinking the space. Making it easier to corner Sam with his presence, resting a hand on the wall to shift his weight forward. He could ignore the slight when Sam’s eyes stayed on him, wide and unblinking, as if a second of not paying attention could cost him his life. It certainly could, if they weren’t in a dream.
“I will never lie to you, Sam,” he said. It’s how he would get this human kneeling for him, right? Just say what he wants to hear. “I will never hurt you unless you force my hand. But whether you want to believe it or not, you belong to me now, and I can make that very good for you. Give you things you didn’t even know you wanted.”
Lucifer was expecting some hesitation, even if it was just a split second. He was sweetening the pot, and he couldn’t think of many humans who wouldn’t lean in for a taste. How could anyone turn down such a good deal without even considering it?
Sam Winchester could, apparently.
“I will never belong to you,” he sneered, mocking Lucifer’s words. “Releasing you was a mistake. Probably the worst one I’ve ever made. But killing you?” Sam leaned in, using his height to his advantage. “That won’t be a mistake at all.”
He actually believed what he was saying.
Lucifer chuckled. “No human can kill me, Sam.”
Sam’s lip curled. “I didn’t say it would be me.”
He knew something. Lucifer didn’t press; it only confirmed his suspicions about Sam knowing Heaven’s plan to win the war. Or maybe parts of it.
He reached up to touch Sam’s cheek. That got the human to flinch, violently, and there was pounding in the walls. The floor started to throb. A frantic thmp thmp thmp alerted Lucifer to the change in Sam’s body. His pulse was racing, now that the dream was turning into a nightmare. Lucifer’s touch was going to wake him up.
Before he did, Lucifer smiled and said, “Just think about it.”
—
Sam jolted awake with a gasp. The metal cuffs dug into his wrists and ankles, a painful reminder of where he was. He turned his head back and forth to look, just to make sure.
Same dark walls. Same emptiness, only filled by shadows cast from the grated hatch on the ceiling. If he was able to look down, underneath the cot, he would see the Devil’s trap drawn on the floor in thick black lines, to keep everyone safe from him.
Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood.
The man who set Lucifer free.
And now Sam was supposed to be his gift too?
No. He’d die before he let that happen.
—
Invading the dreams of Sam Winchester became Lucifer’s favorite pastime. He didn’t give his new toy a single night of uninterrupted sleep. It wasn’t just part of his plan to break the human down; he was getting more interesting with each dream.
Sam Winchester, the boy that Azazel fed his blood when he was still of nursing age. A boy who dared to question and challenge his father’s authority, who staged his own rebellion by going off to college. Even though the stakes were cosmically lower, Lucifer could relate. And it wasn’t just Sam’s father trying to control him; big brother wasn’t much better.
But he was more important to Sam than anything in the world. Lucifer knew that before the dream-snooping. That’s why taking on Dean’s form wasn’t an option, not when Sam would see right through it.
For now, Lucifer always appeared as himself. Sam learned how to wake himself up when he did, until his body was too exhausted to leave the dream, and then he had to stay with Lucifer for a few hours at least. Lucifer tried to make every hour count.
“I don’t think you’re thinking this through,” he told Sam. “You can’t hide from me forever. What do you think will happen when I find you, Sam?”
“I’ll kill myself,” Sam shot back.
Lucifer smiled. “I’ll bring you back.”
Sam clearly didn’t know that was possible.
“I don’t need your consent, Sam. I could snap my fingers and you would be on all fours, collared and leashed.” Sam stiffened at that. “But like I said, I want to reward you for setting me free, not punish you.”
Lucifer liked to see him angry and defiant, the same stubborn pride that caused him to clash with his family so much. But he also liked to see the slight tremor in Sam’s hands when he curled them into white-knuckled fists. He liked to see how bright those hazel eyes got when they were big and vulnerable and trying so hard to be brave.
Sam’s lip curled back. “If you’re trying to make yourself look like the good guy–”
“There are no good guys,” Lucifer cut him off. “Just winners and losers.” He moved closer to the human – he often picked dreams with a bed, or created one, just to keep Sam on edge wondering what it could be used for – and touched his face, smiling when Sam didn’t recoil. “Let me make you a winner, Sam.”
Slowly, he was getting Sam used to his touch. Lucifer took note of the human’s reactions to everything. What he would tolerate, what he would refuse, what he would secretly like and deny it to himself. There was a part of Sam, repressed and needy, that obviously liked having his chin grabbed, his face turned towards Lucifer as if they were about to kiss. Lucifer could practically taste his shame.
But it wasn’t enough for Sam to submit.
“I don’t want anything from you, Lucifer. Except for you to get out of my dreams and go back to your cage,” Sam said. It was barely above a whisper and he was barely breathing, lips parted and wet from nervously licking them. Lucifer tried not to stare.
“You’ll change your mind,” Lucifer told him.
That was a promise he could keep.
—
Lucifer said it was part of his nature. Sam refused to believe that.
He didn’t need to drink demon blood. It was an addiction, but it wasn’t like any other addiction. Even a drop of demon blood made Sam’s powers harder to control; the only option was to give it up cold turkey, like Dean wanted when he locked Sam up in the panic room.
Now, he chose to stay there.
The withdrawals were bad enough, but the isolation was really getting to him. Dean, Bobby, Cas, they all tried to be there for him, but the world was ending because of Sam and they had to keep leaving to clean up his mess. Not much time to sit around and babysit the freak.
It almost made him grateful to see Lucifer in his dreams. Even if he was a constant reminder of Sam’s mistakes, it was better than seeing everyone that he hurt. Better than Bobby’s look of disappointment or Dean turning his back on him. Anything was better than having to face his brother now.
Lucifer was the only who believed there was nothing to forgive.
“You didn’t have a choice, Sam. You never did.” Lucifer said it softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Sam’s ear. Sam didn’t know when he started letting him do that. Touch him like they knew each other. Maybe it was when Dean stopped.
Sam parroted his brother’s words. “There’s always a choice.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That’s just what you humans want to think. Just level with me here, Sam.” He stretched out on the bed next to where Sam was laying down, and Sam didn’t know when that happened either. Maybe it was the exhaustion. “You tried to fight your destiny when you went off to college. Your girlfriend got killed, so you went back to your family, tried to do things their way, and then your brother got himself dragged to Hell. What’s the common denominator here?”
Sam frowned. “Losing the people I love.”
Lucifer snapped his fingers. “Bingo. It didn’t matter what choice you made, you were going to lose someone either way, and you just wanted to stop that. You wanted to be powerful enough to protect them. You still can, if I let you.”
“My choices still don’t matter then.”
“This one does.”
Lucifer’s hands were always cold. But they were better than nothing, when Sam’s own hands were kept restrained most of the time now, when Dean’s hands would only be on him if he had to manhandle him. Maybe that’s why Sam felt warm all over when Lucifer’s hand cupped the back of his neck, despite the chill that ran down his spine.
“It does,” Sam said, ignoring that warmth. “And I’m making the right one.”
Lucifer smirked. “I don’t think you believe that.”
“Why not?”
Lucifer leaned in. Sam instinctively leaned back, but that only pushed him more into Lucifer’s hand, dropping from the back of his neck to where a knob of Sam’s spine made a bump in his skin. He shuddered when Lucifer pressed down lightly, yanking himself out of the dream just seconds after Lucifer said:
“You still haven’t told Dean about me.”
—
Lucifer was making good progress with Sam. It was slow, but time wasn’t an issue; there was no point in throwing a party if Lucifer knew his Father was going to crash it somehow.
Until then, he was just playing with his Father’s toys and breaking some of them in the process. The hunters were the most fun to break. Sam Winchester wasn’t the only hunter who could face down the Devil.
But his toy was better than any hunter.
Any human.
Sam Winchester was exceptional, and Lucifer was going to own him proudly.
—
Sam’s dreams got worse whenever Lucifer wasn’t there.
He would wake up in tears, gasping sobs that made his chest heave and his ribs hurt. He would try to lift up his hand to wipe them away, but the cuffs would stop him, and when Dean asked what happened, his answer was always the same. Just another nightmare. His brother’s question was always the same too.
“Are you ready to get back in the game?”
In his dreams, Bobby said:
You can’t hide from what you did forever, boy.
Cas said:
You will never be clean, Sam.
Dean said:
Make the right choice, Sammy.
Make it for me.
Sam didn’t feel ready at all. But the withdrawals were finally manageable, and he couldn’t just stay here. He had to go save the world that needed saving because of him. Even if he could never make things right, he had to try.
“Yeah,” he croaked out. “I’m ready, Dean.”
In his dreams, Lucifer said:
This is good, Sam. Maybe we’ll run into each other.
Sam asked if he would leave his dreams now.
Lucifer smiled.
You don’t want me to.
—
Lucifer had no doubt that he would get Sam to say yes. But eventually, he had to wonder just how much time it would take, and when his Father would play His next move. As much as he wanted to keep seducing Sam, he couldn’t put a cosmic war on hold for one human that managed to keep his interest.
Lucifer was in luck though, because the angels were getting impatient. They didn’t care about the game pieces, only the game. They wanted to win, and that’s how Lucifer got what he wanted.
He didn’t see Sam in his dreams this time. He heard Sam praying to him, while he was in the middle of torturing a demon who disappointed him more than usual. But the moment that Lucifer heard the prayer, he dropped his blade and flew.
The wards couldn’t hide Sam if he chose to be found.
Sam’s prayer took Lucifer to a motel room. It was just Sam waiting for him, on his knees with his hands clasped, a sight that made Lucifer’s insides twist with hunger, knowing the human was doing it for him. Probably because he thought it was required for any prayer, but still.
Sam jumped to his feet when Lucifer appeared. He was a mess. Covered in fresh bruises and wounds from a recent fight, blood smeared with tears on his cheeks. It was stunning. Lucifer wanted to lick it all off, to know what Sam tasted like from the inside.
Instead, he focused on the human’s obvious distress, turning his lips down into a look of concern. “Sam? What’s wrong?”
“They’re killing him,” Sam gasped out, breathing heavily and too quickly for a human. He risked passing out. “The angels – Zachariah – they won’t stop killing him and he’s n-not okay, keeps coming back wrong–”
Lucifer stepped forward when he broke into a coughing fit, placing a hand on Sam’s chest. No reaction. “You need to breathe, Sam,” he said, getting another thrill when the human actually listened to him, sucking in deep breaths. “Good. Let’s try again. Who is Zachariah killing?”
He could already guess before Sam choked out, “Dean!”
Of course. Why else would Sam be turning to him?
But it was more than just that. Sam was obviously ready to make a deal, and if it wasn’t for Lucifer taking the time to chip away at his defenses, he wouldn’t have let Lucifer see him like this. He would have been stone-faced, cold, making it clear that he was only here to do business with the Devil.
But this Sam – his Sam didn’t bother with the bravado. Didn’t try to compose himself before Lucifer showed up. It was a testament to how far he had come with his human; Sam Winchester was willing to be vulnerable with him.
Sam managed to slow his breathing. “Every night,” he rasped, and Lucifer noticed his fists were trembling. “Zachariah got tired of waiting for him to give in, so he’s been killing Dean every night. And – and when he comes back, he’s not–” Another sob worked through Sam’s throat. “He’s not himself. He’s not my brother.”
Lucifer knew enough about angels to piece it together. “They’re recruiting him,” he said, moving his hand up to Sam’s shoulder. No reaction again. “Turning him into a mindless, obedient soldier for their army.”
Sam nodded miserably. “I don’t know how, but–”
“Well, that’s simple. Whenever he dies, they take him to Heaven and keep a piece of his soul.” Sam’s eyes went beautifully wide. “Whatever they want him for, him being your brother must be getting in the way, right?”
Sam opened his mouth. Hesitated.
Lucifer’s smile was smug. “We both know why you’re here, Sam.”
Sam gave him a dark look and took a pointed step back. Lucifer let his hand drop. There was no point in forcing it when he was about to have Sam all to himself.
“I have conditions,” Sam said.
“Dean is off limits, along with the rest of your family and friends. You don’t need to give me names,” he added, when Sam opened his mouth. He smiled at the unsettled look on Sam’s face as he said, “I already know. Anything I missed?”
“No possession,” Sam spat.
Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted. He hadn’t considered possessing Sam; his true vessel was the only one he needed, and Nick needed him too. He wanted to be inside Sam in a totally different sense, but pointing that out right now might not go over well.
“Done.”
“And can you – can you put Dean’s soul back together?”
Lucifer grinned. “I can do anything for you, Sam.”
“I just want my brother back.”
If it were any other human, it would have just been pathetic. But desperation made Sam Winchester even more impossible to resist, and Lucifer always knew that somehow, he was going to do it for Dean. He would do anything for Dean.
Zachariah had to have known that too. This was part of Heaven’s play.
—
It was wrong. Sam was making the wrong choice yet again.
But what choice did he have?
Dean wasn’t just dying literally. Lucifer said his soul was being taken apart, and Sam could tell, could see his brother losing more of himself with each death. Dean put on a brave face at first, but then they realized Cas couldn’t just touch his forehead and heal him, couldn’t stop his own kind from killing Sam’s brother over and over again.
Three weeks. That’s how much time it took for their hope to run out. That’s how much time before Dean couldn’t hide how scared he was, clinging onto Sam as he begged him not to let him forget.
Don’t let me forget you, Sammy. Please. I can – I can forget who I am, what I’ve done, all of that. But I can never forget you.
Sam promised he would, fighting back tears. But tonight, when he had to watch Dean die again and come back gasping for air, his brother wasn’t there. He looked at Sam with the most empty, terrifying look that Sam has ever seen and said:
Do I know you?
That was when Sam checked into another room and prayed.
A pinch of cold snapped Sam back to the present. Lucifer was cupping his face, bowing their heads together. Sam breathed for both of them, slow, staggered breaths as he tried not to think about what he was agreeing to. What it would mean for the world already doomed by his hands. Would he even get to stay with Dean?
No, probably not.
But at least it would still be his Dean.
“I want to hear you say it, Sam.” Lucifer’s voice came out as a whisper, just as intimate as the thumb stroking Sam’s wet cheek. “Will you let me own you?”
It took everything in Sam to get the word out.
“Yes.”
He knew it was coming. It was impossible not to, with how often Lucifer invaded his personal space and put his hands on him. Sam only closed his eyes to keep from seeing Lucifer lean in, to squeeze more tears back when their lips touched. It was cold, just as cold as he imagined, and softer than he wanted.
Both of Lucifer’s hands wrapped around Sam’s throat, but didn’t press down. A scream was ripped out of Sam when those hands turned searing hot. The heat circled around his neck for an agonizing moment before it faded, leaving Sam gasping and clutching his throat. Lucifer gently pulled his hands away.
But he felt them. The fresh marks etched into his skin.
Lucifer’s brand.
Lucifer looked down in approval. “This will keep you from hiding from me,” he said, tracing the brand. Sam shivered at the sudden chill on the inflamed area. “It will keep you or anyone else from doing anything to your body without my permission. And now I can summon you; just a snap of my fingers and you’ll appear before me.”
Sam swallowed thickly. “Are you letting me stay on Earth?”
Lucifer smirked. “For now. Besides, we have to fix your brother, right?”
Sam nodded. He took a step back, expecting to lead Lucifer to his brother, but Lucifer did something that surprised him. He stepped forward, not giving Sam an inch of space, and kissed him again. It wasn’t soft this time.
Lucifer kissed him hungrily, like Sam was something to be devoured. Sam tried breaking free, but a spike of freezing cold burned his throat, choked out a gasp from him that gave Lucifer the opening he needed to slip his tongue inside.
Sam must have looked pretty betrayed when Lucifer pulled back, because the Devil smiled and stroked his hair. “I don’t always want to fight you, Sam. You can resist the brand if you really want to, it won’t kill you.”
No. Lucifer wouldn’t let anything kill him, apparently.
“But before I go save your brother, there’s something I want to know.”
“The prophecy,” Sam guessed. That was the only reason the world hadn’t been destroyed yet, according to Cas. Lucifer was waiting to find out what God’s plans to stop him were. But the angels were always going on about destiny, so would it really change anything if Lucifer knew?
It didn’t matter. He belonged to Lucifer now, as much as he struggled to accept it. Not only was he not allowed to withhold information, but Lucifer could change his mind about saving Dean if he did.
Lucifer teased a lock of his hair. “Tell me, Sam. What’s the play?”
Zachariah should have cared more about his damn hero if he really wanted to keep the fucking prophecy a secret. All of the angels should have. Nobody except Cas tried to help them, nobody even tried, and Sam wanted to blame all of them for this.
But even as he told Lucifer the truth, his insides twisted in shame.
—
Zachariah did not look surprised to see Lucifer or his new pet in tow. He smirked at Sam and said, “I didn’t think you’d go running to your new master that quickly.”
“You didn’t think at all,” Sam bit back. Lucifer would need to teach him not to speak without permission at some point. “You just knew forcing me to turn to Lucifer was part of your damn prophecy.” He spat the word out.
“Oh, nobody’s forcing you, Sam. Aren’t you humans all about free will?”
“That’s enough,” Lucifer said, raising his hand. The smug look on Zachariah’s face dropped when his jaw was forced shut. “Really, Zach, as far as prophecies go, this one’s kinda lame. Dean Winchester leads your army, Sam leads mine, both brothers die and Heaven wins. That’s Daddy’s grand plan?” He smiled when the angel tried and failed to answer. “Like I said. Lame. And really vague too, but that’s on brand.”
It was obvious why both Winchesters opposed that plan. Sam, well, he would be siding with the Devil. Dean fighting for Heaven was a noble cause, to most people, but not if Sam would be killed and his soul would go straight to Hell for fighting on Lucifer’s side. Oh, and there was the teensy, tiny problem of the war between Heaven and Hell destroying all life on Earth. Sam and Dean probably didn’t like that either.
Lucifer sighed, laying a hand on his pet’s shoulder. Sam tensed up, but that was fine; he missed that little quirk of their relationship. “Here’s the thing, Zach. I’ve spent Father knows how long in that Cage and I’m really in no hurry to duke it out. Now, I’m sure a time will come where I need to make Sam my general for whatever fated reason, but Heaven winning? That’s not happening.”
He let Zachariah speak, watching in amusement as he scoffed and tried to compose himself. “You can’t use Dean Winchester as leverage forever, Lucifer. It might work now on your new pet, but there will come a time–”
“Ah-ah! Spoilers,” Lucifer chided. He raised his hand again, putting his thumb and forefinger together. “And for the record, I’m not using Dean as leverage. I’m just being nice. He means a lot to Sam, you know?”
He had other plans for Dean, but it was better not to share those.
Zachariah paled when he saw Lucifer’s hand. “There will be plenty more where I came from, Lucifer. If the Almighty Himself doesn’t bring me back–”
“Oh, I know. The same thing will happen to them if they make my pet cry.”
Zachariah opened his mouth again. Lucifer snapped his fingers and the angel exploded, blood flying in every direction along with chunks of flesh. Sam held up his arm to cover his face, but Lucifer just flicked his fingers to keep the spray of blood and gore from hitting him.
When the last of it plopped onto the grass, he turned towards Sam, pleased with the internal conflict in his expression. “Shall we go save your brother now?”
—
Dean was struggling to put it all together. He remembered everything now, but it was shoved back into his head all at once, along with every emotion and part of his personality – what made him Dean in some inexplicable way – that was drained out.
He remembered every violent, agonizing death. Zachariah. He had fun trying different methods, taking out his frustration on Dean for being stubborn. Dean hoped he would get to rip the angel’s wings out.
He remembered Cas trying to heal him. Failing. Standing up to Zachariah the second time he killed Dean, and Dean just barely managed to talk him down because Cas would die if he didn’t. He couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything.
He remembered Sam. His brother. God…how could he forget Sam ?
He tried to be brave while Dean was slipping away. Dean could tell. He had that pinched trying-not-to-cry look on his face that stayed from when they were kids, when his baby brother had to be strong for him and not the other way around.
It broke Dean’s heart.
He was supposed to be the strong one. Heaven wanted him to be their good little soldier, but fuck that. All he needed to be was Sam’s big brother. They would fight together, not on opposite sides in a battle that would destroy Earth. They would figure it out together. They always did.
But now–
Now, he was somewhere in Heaven, surrounded by dead angels. Or what was left of them. It was mostly blood pooling on the once-white floor, splattered on the once-white walls. Alarms were blaring from above, the lights flashing on and off in warning. Either a call for more soldiers or an attempt to keep them from meeting the same fate.
And their killer was standing in front of Dean.
“Hi, Dean.” His smile was chilling. “My name’s Lucifer, and I have something that no longer belongs to you.”
Sam. Dean knew it without having to be told. It had to be Sam, if it meant that much to Dean, if it was important enough to taunt him with. He shouldn’t rise to the bait, but if Lucifer had his little brother–
Dean stepped forward menacingly. Lucifer raised his hands innocently. “He’s safe with me. I have no intention to harm you or your brother.”
“Why?” It came out as a growl. “Because you want him on your side?”
“Not just him, Dean. Both of you.”
“The answer is no.”
Lucifer looked amused. “See, your brother said the same thing. For a long time,” he added, giving Dean pause. When did his brother interact with Lucifer? Wouldn’t he have told him? He should have told him.
But apparently, Sam was still keeping secrets from him.
The thought made Dean grit his teeth. “Where is he?”
“I’ll take you to him. I just want you to hear me out first.”
“No thanks.”
He was about to take another step forward, but something in Lucifer’s eyes stopped him. A flash of red. A subtle reminder that this was the fucking Devil he was speaking to and should probably be more careful not to piss off, or else Sam could get hurt too. That’s what really stopped Dean, knowing Lucifer had his brother.
Worry won out over anger. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’m listening.”
Lucifer sighed through his nose. “No, you’re not.”
With a snap of his fingers, Sam appeared.
Dean didn’t believe it at first. It happened so fast, he thought his brain had just concocted the image to calm him down. But – but there was nothing calming about the state his brother was in, kneeling at Lucifer’s side with his wrists and ankles bound in thick iron cuffs. There was a ring of symbols on his neck that definitely was not there before; it looked like they had been branded into him.
Anger surged viciously again, more than ready to rip Lucifer apart. But the resignation and desperation in Sam’s eyes kept Dean in place. His brother was silently begging him not to do anything stupid, and with Sam’s life on the line, how could he?
“Sammy,” he whispered, trying not to feel as helpless as he did.
Lucifer looked between the two of them, satisfied.
“But now you are.”