Chapter Text
The farmhouse sat as a decaying specter away from all other buildings. Once a place where grains of all occasions were grown, it had instead become a place to farm suffering. The very specific suffering of one man. Sam Winchester had been shot, kidnapped and tortured. All as a very unusual reward for being prepared to send his brother away to sacrifice himself for the world. Especially someone who had worked alongside God.
Mysterious ways indeed, Sam thought, unable to hold back a snort that only brought his most recent hallucination’s attention on him again. As if pain, or hallucinations, could convince him that it was a good idea to tell this woman anything about other hunters. As if anyone could even match what Lucifer had done to him. He’d already told her that, this Lady Toni, and she hadn’t believed him. Part of him almost wanted Lucifer to turn up in person and prove Sam right. Almost.
Sam debated tuning into what the most recent incarnation of his brother might be talking about and decided against it. There was nothing it could say that he hadn’t already said to himself some time over the past decade. His focus turned back to the specks of dirt on the floor beneath him. Counting them again to be sure they were all still there as he tried to think of a plan through the haze of drugs that filled his mind.
Another soft snort escaped him as he focused on the fact he was drugged again. Lucifer had never needed drugs to make him feel so much worse. With the mess of chemicals inside him it was almost amusing how ridiculous this all was. After the cage this was just some strange entertainment and the recent grief of losing Dean was much worse than anything that had been done for him.
“Someone is an amateur,” Sam laughed under his breath, keeping quiet enough not to be heard from upstairs or by any cameras he didn’t know about. His gaze refocusing on the dirt again, damn, he’d lost count again. He’d have to begin again. “One, two, three-“
His focus is broken again but this time, in an odd change up, not by his own drifting thoughts. Instead a pair of jean clad legs and very familiar bare feet step into his vision. The person - Whoops, no, Sam thought, just another hallucination – blocking his view and filling his world with all too clear familiarity.
“Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Sam sighed, not looking up and refusing to acknowledge that his brain had reverted to hateful tradition.
*
Lucifer had floated in agony for far too long before he realized he was free of Castiel and free of his Aunt who had hurt him so thoroughly again. Instead of killing him, he’d been cast aside by yet another family member to die. There was an odd symmetry to that he would have found amusing if it wasn’t for the way his grace creaked ominously. Fracturing under the weight of trying to stay together and keep him conscious without a vessel after such damage.
He was missing days in his memory he was sure, missing what had happened to his strange ‘allies’, and missing the mark.
The mark.
It had been ripped from him as she had cast him aside. All remnants of it pulled from his grace as if he hadn’t even been worth cursing in her eyes any more. Not even worth that. Not even while he died. That had to be what she expected was going to happen to him.
An odd numbness filled him at that, and not the usual unending rage he used to feel. A rage that had been so comforting when caught in the cage with only the frozen feeling of his own grace around him.
The confusion of the situation brought Lucifer back more into himself, pulling more of his shuddering grace back into place as he focused on the problem. Lucifer had always known the mark had added to his rage, had known from his first ever outburst long after his Aunt had ever been locked away. Gabriel had done something… pranked some lesser angels in an effort to get them to laugh. Lucifer had snapped at him instead. Now he can’t think why, they had always done such things together at one point. It was what family did…
The unusual thoughts were almost painful after eons of easier, harsher thinking. Lucifer had always felt a rage when thinking of home. How could he not? He’d been cast aside for doing exactly what the humans were meant to be worshipped for. Free thought.
Ah.
The satisfaction was almost primal as the familiar rage stocked up again. The certainty that he had been right about what humans were capable of, the damage they could do.. and the hypocrisy of them being able to have free will, and angels not. Why bother making them individuals if they couldn’t be individuals?
The familiar beats of his argument ran through his mind before the current face of his father reappeared in his mind, apologizing. It had seemed genuine. That it had been Sam Winchester advocating on his behalf had only been the icing on the cake. To use a human expression his brother would have mocked him for knowing. Lucifer’s anger drained away and he turned instead to trying to sense anyone that might be able to hold him long enough to heal.
It was a grueling and frustrating search in turn. There were people who had the potential, but it was clear too many would last minutes, maybe hours if he was lucky. He’d leave a trail of death in his wake that would be a sign post to anyone looking for him. All the while he could feel heaven thrumming at the edge of his grace again, an annoying itch that had his father written all over it.
Lucifer didn’t have to do anything to know who had won. It was clear from that insistent pressure he refused to follow. He was truly welcome in heaven again. Now he had it, after years of quiet absence, he had no desire to follow it. A desk job was not his idea of a reward. Just another mess his dear father had left in his no doubt conspicuous renewed absence.
….Lucifer….
The prayer, barely even that even, whispered across his mind. The mind unmistakable as it called out unintentionally to him. Sam Winchester. His favourite human, his human, was calling out to him; the tone filled with the familiar caress of agony he remembered from those first days in the cage. Someone was hurting him.
The usual proprietary feelings filled him at the thought of anyone having anything to do with his human. His vessel. Before the prayer he never would have even thought to try approaching him. Now though he had to try.
The carving on Sam’s ribs would usually keep him from having any hope of finding him, but the prayer worked like a beacon and Lucifer followed what little trace he could. The second call of his name only helping him approach faster.
The farmhouse he found gave him little trouble to slip enough of himself inside to find Sam. The wards were extensive and impressive, but nothing like the bunker’s. Even damaged as he was Lucifer was still an Archangel, power and filled with tricks other angel’s could hope to achieve. There were always holes in any wards that could be slipped through. You just had to know where to look.
*
“Oh Sam, what have they done to you,” Lucifer sighed, his familiar voice bringing another wave of sick amusement to Sam as he stared down at those bare feet. It seemed his brain really did like reruns. His once scarred hand twitched behind his back as he longed to press it, the old routine returning like a cloak.
The legs shifted before his vision as the hallucination crouched before him. Bringing that familiar blonde hair and blue eyes into sight. At least his brain hadn’t tried to update the look to Castiel, that would have been awkward. Trying not to acknowledge the thing, Sam turned his head a little to the side, trying to shield himself with his long hair. Needing some barrier as his past hovered right before him. None of the other recent hallucinations had tried to get so close, but then Lucifer always did like to be different.
“I heard that you know,” Lucifer’s cool voice cutting through Sam’s thoughts as easily as a blade. Filled with that same tone of slight amusement and Sam tried to force back the flinch. Staring unblinking at the floor as he tried to think of anything, or perhaps nothing at all. For the first time since being brought here the chair truly felt like a prison.
A cool hand landed on Sam’s cheek and he did flinch then. So hard that he nearly tipped the chair back, rocking on it precariously before a hand stopped it dead. Lucifer’s hand holding it steady before righting Sam with a care that was more unsettling than the chair had been. The other hand never leaving his cheek, but being equally insistent in turning his gaze back to the hallucination.
“I’m not a hallucination Sam,” Lucifer’s tone was in that same gentle tone that was so unnerving and so easy to lean into. Sam had a lot of experience with it, it was always worse than the sarcasm and taunting that came after. “Oh Sam, we’re running out of time you know, we need to have a conversation and that works much better with two people.”
Sam frowned at that, his gaze unfocused as he tried to not focus on the face that filled his vision. The drugs made it so hard though. Every thought fell away from him so quickly and it was only the safety of this being too much of a routine was giving him anything like safety. Safety, he’d love some safety right now. The urge to give another amused snort was overwhelming. What had Toni used on him? He’d have to ask her… he did snort then, laughter flickering over his face.
“Sam,” Lucifer’s tone was more forceful then. The hand on his cheek shifting to grip his chin and suddenly Lucifer was all Sam could see. His eyes unwillingly focusing on the hallucination’s, angel’s, whatever before him. “Sam. I’m here, and so will that stupid woman above us if she saw what just happened with the chair. I’m not powerful enough to blow this barn to pieces to get to you properly Sam, and she will hurt you more if you don’t say yes.”
“Oh, just that huh,” Sam replied, trying for scornful. Yet it wasn’t, it was the same amusement. It had to be, this was still funny. Unbidden his face split into a smile, even when people tried to do something new to him it still ended up as reruns. “Don’t you ever get any new lines? I need to tell Chuck to work on his writing skills.”
Sam fell into laughter then at that, uncaring that it was loud. He couldn’t help it. It was just so funny.
“Sam… Sam… SAM,” The hand on his chin shook him a little and it startled Sam back into focusing on Lucifer again.
“How are you touching me anyway?” Sam mused, barely noticing the frustration and worry over Lucifer’s face. It was impossible that the fallen angel cared about him, so he ignored it. “None of the other’s could. Hallucinations that aren’t you are so much better behaved. Or is this a plot hole? I really should talk to Chuck-“
Sam trailed off into distraction, not paying any attention to Lucifer again. It was easier to fall into his fracturing thoughts than do anything else. Perhaps he should try sleeping to get out of it. Perhaps if he played dead they’d all leave him alone. It might even trick his watcher. Chuck really needed to work on his writing if-
Why did he keep thinking of God anyway? He knew God wasn’t writing the story any more. He’d promised he wouldn’t before he’d left the bar to go somewhere. Told him so himself, had told him… he’d told him something else as well. Sam frowned, trying to focus on that memory, feeling it flash slowly past his eyes.
…
“Someone will ask you to say yes to something Sam,” Chuck said slowly, his gaze nervous as he stands to close to Sam, voice low. “I’m not going to write how it goes Sam. I promise it, I won’t do that to you anymore... I’m just going to hope, to ask you to say yes. If you don’t-“
Sam went to ask more, filled with the angry disbelief at being asked such a thing, but Chuck had already gone. Leaving Sam behind in the bar with nobody he wanted to talk to after that.
…
“Sometimes I hate your dad,” Sam said softly, his gaze refocusing on Lucifer. All the fight gone out of him. This was his reward? No brother, torture and now Lucifer again.
“Something we can agree on,” Lucifer murmurs in agreement. Both hands now moving to Sam’s cheeks to smooth away the tears Sam hadn’t even known were falling. “Dean isn’t dead though, you’ve got that wrong.”
Sam frowned at Lucifer at the fact his head was being so blatantly invaded. Then he focused on the words.
“You’re lying to me,” Sam muttered, trying and failing to fight the gentle but insistent hands on his cheeks.
“Now. I’ve never needed to do that, Sam,” Lucifer sighs, turning away from Sam in a startlingly human move towards the trapdoor to the upper floors. There’s sound of movement now. They’ve been noticed. Lucifer’s face is a lot more serious as he looks back to Sam. “She’s going to drug you more Sam. She’s going to take from you something even I didn’t. Consent is everything to an angel after all.”
Those words focus Sam’s attention in a way nothing has since those first drugs touched his system.
“What,” Sam whispers. He wants to tell Lucifer he’s lying again. Wants to deny any of this is happening.
“Sam, she’s coming. She knows something is happening and we’re down to seconds now. I’m not trying to convince you. It’s down to you Sam. You have to choose, me or her.”
Sam stares at him. His horror clear.
“I...” Sam tries, his voice failing him before he asks as hesitantly as he feels, “Dean is alive?”
“Yes he is Sam. Castiel too. They’re looking for you but they’re going to be far too late.”
“Will you take me to him?” Sam whispers, hating the cruel hope that curls unbidden inside him. Even now he still feels like that young boy abandoned in a motel room waiting for his brother to come back.
Lucifer smiles then, wide and broad. Sam hates himself more even as he sees it because he already knows what he’s going to do.
“I promise Sam.”
The sound of the hatch is too loud in the room and Sam knows he’s out of time. He could have resisted Lucifer forever he knows, but Chuck’s words hang heavy around his neck like a stone. The sound of Toni’s feet on the stairs has Sam panicking, speaking before he can stop himself.
“Then yes. I’m saying yes…”
*
Lady Toni had always prided herself on her certainty. There were few problems life had thrown her that she had not been able to solve with a definitive answer. Her methods were ruthless, even for a Man of Letters, but they were surely effective. She got results, and it was frustrating her then, that Sam Winchester was defying her getting those results. She’s been told to just approach them of course, but it was already clear they were at the center of too many strange events to not think them yet another monster. She needed answers and it was clear her more straightforward approach would be better than anything her superiors had planned. She always was right.
The strange events in the cellar over the past few minutes had only proved her point and it was only the care she had needed to prepare the more powerful wave of drugs she had now that had delayed her. Sam was dangerous, and the information she needed was vital. She’d take it from him any way she could. That she would enjoy this next part was only a bonus.
“Oh Sam, we could have done this so much more easily if you’d only wanted to work with me,” Toni sighed as she entered that cellar. Staring condescendingly at the figure in the chair for one long second, before all she knew was white.