Chapter Text
6:03 AM. Sam sits at the kitchen table, the lights on and a stack of books ahead of him. His leg is bouncing up and down anxiously. He taped a picture of the bizarre symbol Vincente's fans have been carving and tattooing into themselves to the wall beside him. His laptop sits open on the table, behind the stack of books. There are multiple tabs open, each of Vincente's and Ladyheart's official social media pages. He refreshes each page for the sixth time in as many minutes, checking for any new information. Lucifer has been in Vince for a while, he should've burned out long ago. Why the hell hasn't he? Sam sips his coffee, he's almost finished his second pot of the night. Morning? Eh, doesn't matter. His hands twitch as he searches the assembled books for anything that looks like the sigil. How is Vince not completely burned out? What the hell is he planning? Lucifer is going to die. He's got to. He turns his focus back to the computer, refreshing each and every page. An announcement comes up on the Ladyheart page, a concert. Taking place in two weeks. Those who have mutilated themselves with this piece of spellwork get free entry, everyone else will be turned away at the door. How the hell Lucifer managed to convince anyone of that idea Sam will never know. This does nothing but increase Sam's drive to wipe the monster off the map. Sam has to be the one to do it. Lucifer is Sam's responsibility, his reflection. His problem. Nothing in this world matters more than fixing his mess. Nothing. He jots the concert details in his journal, and returns to trying to identify the sigil itself. Dean stumbles into the room, still half asleep.
"Coffee in the pot." Sam says quickly, not looking up. Dean nods and shuffles towards it to pour himself a mug.
"You been up all night?" He asks, concern entering his tired voice. Sam nods, it's not like it was intentional. He just couldn't stop thinking about killing Lucifer long enough to fall asleep. Dean sits at the table across from Sam, taking a sip of his coffee.
"I found something, there's gonna be a-" Sam begins, but Dean holds up a hand to stop him.
"Dude.. coffee first, hunt later." Sam furrows his brow, this isn't just a hunt. "And you-" Dean starts, pointing at Sam, "need to sleep. We're not doing this 'oops all Lucifer' tunnel vision again." Sam's not sure if Dean is speaking literally or figuratively, but either way he feels fine, it's fine.
"I can sleep when he's dead." Sam didn't mean for his voice to sound so... sad. But it does. He picks up his mug, but Dean takes it from him. He starts to sound a bit more awake as he realizes this is an actual conversation.
"Sam, you're tweaking. That means you've had enough. Go look in my bedside table, there are sleeping pills in there. Take a few and crash." Sam considers, staring at the book on angelic magic in front of him. He really needs to work this out, they need to know what Lucifer's planning and how to stop it. Dean seems to sense his apprehension. "What did you find? I'll take over." Sam could use the help, no doubt. He speaks quickly, his words run together somewhat.
"Ladyheart is playing a surprise concert in two weeks, free entry to anyone with the sigil. Nobody else is welcome, but it's free for anyone with the sigil. I'm trying to work out what the hell it could mean, it looks Enochian but it doesn't seem to match anything.The concert is in two weeks. But the sigil does look angelic, cuz of the Enochian. But I-" Dean nods his head, exaggerating an overwhelmed expression.
"You sound like a damn yak bak. I'll take a look, go to bed." Sam stands up and goes to take his laptop with him. Dean stops him with a warning "Ah- no. Leave the computer." Sam grimaces, but complies.
He heads for Dean's room. It's a strange combination of order and chaos. Dean's bed is neatly made military style and the floor clear of clutter. The dresser is decorated with pictures and empty beer bottles. There's a TV hanging on the wall above his dresser, but other than that the walls are bare. Nothing like Sam's thumbtack and red string aesthetic. There's a desk on the far side, just like Sam's room. Though Dean's desk has only his journal compared to Sam's stack of books. Sam goes to the left bedside table and pulls out a bottle that has "Ambien" written in sharpie. No telling where Dean got it, there's no label on the bottle. He tries to open it, but his jitters cause him to drop it. It rolls under the bed, so Sam kneels down to get it. He crosses his fingers he won't stick himself on anything sharp as he feels around blindly for it. Instead of a bottle of pills, he pulls out a vial. The vial of Crowley's blood. Why the hell did Dean keep that? Sam puts it back where he found it and keeps feeling around until he pulls out the pills. He takes one as he goes to the bathroom and turns the sink on, cupping his hand to guide the water into his mouth. The pill dissolves slightly on his tongue before the water gets there, the odd taste lingering. He picks up a day-old beer from Dean's bedside table and takes a sip to wash his mouth out. It's skunked but better than the unflavored tablet. Sam figures there's no harm in looking through some books while he waits for sleep, so he goes to the library. The week before, he had assembled every single book that could possibly have anything related to the sigil onto the table. He'd been taking them to the kitchen in batches. Over the last few days, he'd gotten about a third of the way through the eighty-one tomes. He picks one out at random, a compilation of Men of Letters research papers on Enochian magic and takes it back to his room. He pulls out his phone and opens Vince's Instagram, the profile picture has been changed to the sigil, in order to compare. Though at this point, he's got it committed to memory. It's a circle with an hourglass shape in it with Enochian characters in the top and bottom half of the hourglass. Sam needs to learn the Enochian writing system at some point. He flips through the book, comparing the paintings and sigils inside to the one he's looking for. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest when he finally finds it. Reading the paper, it seems to be involved in some kind of dark vessel strengthening ritual. An angel in danger of burning out can essentially outsource where the stress of housing an angel goes. So instead of burning out Vince, he'd be burning out these other people. The more people, the longer the current vessel sustains. He closes the book, using his finger to hold his place and rushes into the kitchen, nearly falling over himself. His mother sits at the table across from Dean, who is studying true to his word.
"I found it!" He laughs as he says it, he's almost manic. "I found it. We gotta stop that concert."
"I thought you-" Dean starts.
"I will. I will. I promise. I will. But here, read this." Sam thrusts the book at Dean, who mumble reads the spell and its effects. "We gotta stop that concert." Their mom gets up to stand behind Dean and read the book herself. Sam shifts his weight back and forth, feeling antsy. They're taking far too long to read the damn thing. Don't they realize we gotta move? This is bad. Finally, Dean nods firmly.
"Alright, we'll make a plan." Dean sighs, Sam is surprised Dean isn't more worked up about this. "The concert's not for two weeks, which means you've got time to sleep." Sam doesn't want to sleep, he wants to kill the devil. He tries to protest, but is cut off by his brother and mother speaking in unison.
"Go to bed!" Decidedly outvoted, Sam walks off to his room dejected. He flops onto his bed, but can't quite seem to get comfortable. The final time he checks his clock before finally falling asleep, it says 7:42.
Dean is on his bed, his mom sits on his desk chair watching the Scooby Doo movie. She missed out on a lot of pop culture, and they're taking full advantage of Sam's late start to catch up. Dean's thoughts begin to drift around the middle of the movie. Sam had seemed absolutely manic that morning. Dean didn't think Sam realized that he couldn't stop moving, his eyes were darting every which way, and he was repeating himself. He had been shifting his weight back and forth any time he was on his feet, drumming the table when seated, and blinking rapidly. He was having the mother of all caffeine rushes, that's for damn sure. Dean has never done cocaine, but he figures Sam would've fit right in at a celebrity party. He understands why it's so important to Sam that they deal with Lucifer asap, but when Sam gets a goal like that he makes some... poor choices. Sam needs to go in with his head on right, and Dean can't be sure that's the case. Ever since they got the lance, Sam has been getting more and more obsessed with killing Lucifer. But Vince has been holed up somewhere, away from the public eye in light of the scandal of encouraging self-harm. The hard part had been tracking him down. They'd had to consider the possibility that Vince had burned out and his team were trying to cover it up, but Sam refused to accept starting from square one. Dean knows he's not one to preach about taking care of yourself, but would it kill the man to chill the hell out? It's not that Dean doesn't understand the stakes, but he's worried Sam's sliding into a really dark place. He's got a one-track mind at the moment, and when that happens Sam gets dangerous. He starts making worse and worse choices in pursuit of his goal. Dean had tried to talk him into a hunt, just to get his mind off of things. But he'd turned them down. Dean and his mom had done a werewolf hunt on their own. It was nice to introduce her to Claire, but Dean couldn't stop worrying about Sam the entire time. He knows he didn't eat while they were gone, nothing in the kitchen had moved.
"Guys?" They hear from the hallway. Checking his watch, Dean realizes he got somewhere in the neighborhood of three hours. Satisfied with that, he gets up from his bed and meets Sam, his mother close behind. Sam's face is harsh, determined. "Okay, strategy meeting. Let's go." Dean shrugs at his mom as they follow Sam to the foyer. They all sit around the table, and Dean speaks first.
"Okay, so the concert is in Atlanta. It'll be busy, but not busy enough that you and I-" he says, gesturing between himself and Sam. "Can't get in. I-" His mom cuts him off.
"I'm coming too." Her voice is assertive. Dean laughs internally, she would've been good at the whole mother thing if she'd been around. But he can't risk her getting hurt.
"Mom, no-" Dean's voice is calm, he doesn't want to offend her but she can't come. Sam looks contemplatively between his mother and brother, holding back from getting involved.
"What am I-?" She says incredulously, she's going to answer her own rhetorical question but Dean interupts.
"Leverage. Knowing Lucifer, that's what he'd see. And I can't promise that we'd be able to follow through if your life was on the line." Sam gives Dean a disturbing and loaded look. His eyes are hard and hungry. A desperate Sam is a dangerous Sam. Dean can't let her come, Sam wouldn't hesitate.
"We need numbers, in case the lance doesn't vaporize him instantly. I'm not warming the bench on this one, Dean." She crosses her arms, this family's dynamic is so... weird. She's his mother, yet he can't help but see her as a kid with no clue.
"We'll have numbers, I'll call Cas and Crowley. I'm not feeding you to Lucifer, Mom." His voice remains level, this is a discussion not an argument. Though he is getting irritated that Sam isn't stepping in here. He'd never been shy when their dad did something stupid and dangerous.
"You'll take them but not me?" She asks.
"Yeah, there's a common denominator between all of us, Mom." She shakes her head slightly, prompting him to reveal what it is. "The only ones dumb enough to go after Lucifer were personally victimized by Regina George." She shakes her head, confused by the reference. Sam does the same, his expression asking How do you know that one? "Cas let Lucifer out, he feels guilty enough to risk his life to end him. Crowley.. I don't even understand what Lucifer did to him. And Sam?" Sam sits up a bit taller at the mention of his name, probably because Dean's voice breaks slightly. Dean lowers his volume, he doesn't want to bring up specifics but the point needs to be made. "Mom, you read his journal. You know exactly what Lucifer did to him. I was there when the wall went up and I was there when it came down. It's personal for us."
"All of it happened because I couldn't bear the thought of losing your father. I couldn't save Sam then, but I can help him rest easy now. I'm coming, and that's final." Dean rolls his eyes and looks to Sam. Why isn't he saying anything?
"You wanna help me out here, Sam?" He says, his tone slightly accusatory. Sam gestures towards her, looking at Dean.
"If she wants to help, we can't stop her." He starts. Dean's not sure why he's surprised, but he is. He would've expected Sam to get how quickly things could go south if Lucifer got his hands on her. Sam turns towards their mom. "But Mom, we need to make sure you understand. This will be the most dangerous hunt you ever go on. There's a good chance we won't all make it out alive, and a decent enough chance none of us will. Are you okay with that?" What the hell is Sam talking about? Is he planning on going kamikazee here? Nobody is planning on dying. And since when is Sam casually okay with the possibility of his family biting it? Dean makes eye contact with his mom, nodding slightly at Sam with a grimace on his face. Trying to tell her this is what I was worried about. She looks between her sons, it doesn't seem like she's picking up on Dean's silent message.
"I'm supposed to be dead already. I'm coming." Everyone in this family is so goddamn stubborn. Dean tries and fails to not see the resemblence. Dean gets up from his chair and storms off. "Dean!" She calls after him.
"I'm calling Crowley and Cas. Sam, make sure she knows what she's in for." Dean returns to his bedroom. Usually, he'd make the call around the others but he needed an excuse to leave that room. He feels like the last sane person in the bunker. He dials Crowley, and waits for an answer.
"Dean. I trust this isn't a social call." His tone is lighthearted, slightly excited. Dean smirks as he answers.
"We found a way to ice Lucifer, we have the weapon and we know his location." He explains, pausing to figure out how to word his request.
"Dean!" Sam calls out from the foyer. Dean rushes back out there, phone still to his ear.
"I'll call you back," he says. Arriving in the foyer, Dean realizes he doesn't need to. Crowley stands behind Sam, phone still to his own ear.
"Please do." Crowley says into the phone before hanging up. "So, what's the McGuffin?" He asks, clapping his hands together.
"We need to call Castiel first." His mom explains, with a look towards Dean. Dean rolls his eyes, the fact that his mom has picked up on Dean being the designated Castiel-wrangler is annoying.
"Barukh atah Castiel, it's Dean. It's go time, Lucifer's about to commit a mass murder. Meet us in the bunker." Cas appears next to Dean, wearing a similar grim expression to Sam.
Sam gets lost in his own head as Dean fills Cas and Crowley in on everything they've found. He knows this is a strength in numbers situation, there's every chance the lance defines good as angelic and despite his behavior Lucifer is still an angel. Crowley gets apoplectic at the story of how they got the lance, but Sam isn't paying much attention. They need to stop him before this concert gets underway, the longer they wait the more dangerous the situation becomes. Not just for the world but for Sam himself, though that's not the main reason he wants Lucifer dead..no definitely not. He wants Lucifer dead because Lucifer is a threat. This isn't like him going after Lilith, where his main goal was revenge for Dean's death. He had used the apocalypse to cover for his anger and vengence quest, and sure he wanted to stop that too. But when he walked into that church, the anger in his heart had absolutely nothing to do with the death toll from the seals and everything to do with one specific death. One does not grow up in John Winchester's care without learning the hard way how being driven by revenge can destroy a man. Sam just needs to make sure he goes into this with his heart in the right place. He shuts his eyes tight as he tries to ignore all the slicing, breaking, and tearing he endured in the cage. Focus on the people in the venue rather than how it felt to be under the devil's blade. That this is not about stopping his nightmares, or his need to constantly check the news for what Lucifer is up to. He wants to go back to his normal level of hypervigilence, and he knows that's impossible while Lucifer draws breath. He tries to ignore the darkness that still lives inside of him, but it's always been there. He remembers what Eileen said, about not letting it change who he is but he knows it's too late for that. He's not going to let anything or anyone stop him from doing what needs to be done. He starts fantasizing about how it will look and feel to finally win. That... tension he feels finally releasing. Being able to sleep without an angel blade under his pillow. He imagines Lucifer's eyes flaring as he screams in agony. His deformed wings burned into the ground across a stage. A smile tugs at his lips as he pictures Lucifer's fear when he realizes what they've decided to kill him with. He isn't sure if he hopes it kills him instantly or if he wants Lucifer to suffer. Suffer like he made Sam suffer.
"Sam? What the hell, man. You've been laser-focused on this for months and now you're taking a trip to lala land?" Dean's voice pulls Sam out of his thoughts. Dean is looking Sam up and down, his tone of voice is gruff but his eyes show nothing but concern. Sam is about to respond when Crowley does it for him.
"I'd wager he's picturing all the ways he wants to do Lucifer in. Slow and agonizing, or quick and decisive? Should I say something witty before or after?" Crowley smiles at Sam "Right?" Sam shakes his head, embarrassed. Dean looks at him perplexed, not sure if he's buying it. Sam quickly shifts back into normal hunting mode.
"We have to worry about the people at the concert. They're all at risk of burning out, we gotta get them outta there." He says, changing the topic.
"Yeah, Sam. We just decided Mom and I are gonna go in as Ladyheart fans and work on evacuating the building." Sam raises a brow, it's a risky plan. Then again, there is no risk-free option here.
"The sigil?" Sam asks, wondering if they really plan to put themselves on the chopping block here. His mom pulls a thin silver blade from her pocket and waves it back and forth.
"The second we're in, we're gonna make some artistic edits to it." She answers, Sam nods his head confidently.
"While that is happening, we need to keep Lucifer distracted. The lance can't come into play until all the witnesses are out of sight." Cas states, his expression plain.
"Victims." Dean corrects.
"Victims?" Cas repeats.
"They're not witnesses, Cas. They're victims. We aren't just going there to kill the devil, we're trying to save people." Dean is talking to Cas but looking Sam dead in the eye, his expression firm. Sam doesn't understand what point he's trying to make. Of course they're trying to save people. Dean raises his brow, you know what I'm trying to say. But Sam has no idea why Dean feels the need to point out the obvious to him of all people. Usually Sam's the one reminding Dean about the sanctity of life, but suddenly Sam's the one who needs the refresher course on morality? Crowley looks at Sam with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"If it makes you feel any better, Moose, I'm only going to kill the devil," he says. Sam shakes his head, baffled at Crowley's bizarre attempt at conspiring with him. There's a moment of tense silence when nobody knows how to proceed, Dean is still trying to telepathically say something to Sam and Sam is just not getting it. Naturally, Cas is the one to get things back on course.
"So while you are removing any potential victims from the vicinity, Crowley and I will distract Lucifer." The mood immediately lightens when Cas speaks, like a spell has been broken everyone refocuses on the task at hand rather than whatever the hell Dean is on about.
"Oh, sure, volunteer me for the suicide gig. I won't object." Crowley says sarcastically. Cas ignores him.
"It will be our job to ensure he doesn't take steps to prevent anyone from leaving. We will also work to extract the members of... Ladyheart from the area," He says, clearly unsure about the band name. Like that's at all relevant here. Sam and Dean both look to Crowley for confirmation. They trust Cas, in spite of everything he's done they know he's got their back on this one. But Crowley? Crowley shakes his head in defensive confusion.
"What? I said I wouldn't object." He says with a shrug. Sam sighs, too much to ask for Crowley to be normal about anything.
"I sneak in the back door with the lance?" Sam proposes, though it's not a suggestion so much as a heads-up that this is the way things will go. He gets no verbal objections, though Crowley does raise a hand to speak. Dean glares at him and both brothers give a stern "No." Crowley puts his hand back down and they break for the evening. Sam opens Google. He types "V" and it autocompletes to "Vince Vincente last seen" (something he'd been searching repeatedly). He hits enter and finds no new information, but he keeps looking anyway. They still have two weeks until the concert, but if Vince is seen in public before then Sam will not hesitate to jump on it.
At 2AM the day of the concert, Dean pulls the Impala into a parking lot attached to the concert venue. The lance is laid awkwardly with the point in the backseat and the other end in Sam's lap. Sam's expression reminds Dean of the day they walked right up to the devil's door for Sam to say yes. Sam's gaze is fixed ahead of him, there is no sign of mirth or compassion. Just a mission ahead of him and a sense of invulnerability and confidence. Dean is just as disturbed by it now as he was then. Dean is confident too, he knows they have a solid shot at ending things here and now. Giving the lance and the solo job to the unpredictable variable makes him a bit nervous, the last time the Big Solo Job in taking down the devil went to Sam "The Unpredictable Variable" Winchester, he succeeded at the cost of his own life. He just hopes this time won't come with a similar sacrifice.
"Should we call in a bomb threat?" His mom suggests. Sam shakes his head.
"No, they'd move too quick to get everyone out. Needs to be something that causes a panic rather than an organized evacuation. If Vince gets evacuated, then all this is for nothing." He answers, his voice completely flat. Dean parks the car and turns it off.
"Arson?" She tries, "It would cause a panic." Sam seems to consider this, missing the incredibly obvious problem with it. Who is this guy? We gotta get this done before he loses it. Dean shakes his head to his brother and speaks to his mom.
"Too much panic, people would die." Dean pauses, remembering the fire that claimed his childhood. The absolute chaos, the heat. He doesn't want to put a crowd of people through that. "Not an option. Besides, I got it covered." He reaches into the glovebox and retrieves his handgun. His mom doesn't seem to understand.
"You're... gonna kill someone?" She asks, speaking slowly. He shakes his head, of course not. Then again, the world was a different place when she was alive. Bulletproof backpacks weren't a thing in her day.
"'Mass shooter' at a concert is the new 'Fire' in a crowded theater. Welcome to the future." She accepts the explanation, though Dean's sure he will need to elaborate on this one at some point. All three of them step out of the car. Sam holds out his drawing of the sigil for his family to see as Dean pulls out his pocketknife. He carves the sigil into his left forearm, about 5 inches in diameter. Big enough to be legible, small enough that any edits could go unnoticed. He finishes up a few seconds after his mom, who for some godforsaken reason decided to carve it onto her stomach. Sam pockets the drawing, his mother pulling him in for a hug.
"Stay safe." She tells him, cupping his chin. He nods his head, his expression softening somewhat.
"You too, Mom." She backs away and Dean steps up to his brother.
"Stay you, Sam." Dean says, his expression stern to get across his underlying message. Don't lose yourself in there. Come out of that fight whole. Don't give in to whatever has had you by the throat lately.
"Of course, Dean." Sam looks puzzled. "I'm good. Really." Dean doubts that, but doesn't press the issue. Sam gets into the driver's seat to wait. Dean and his mother are silent on the long walk to the line of people waiting for the concert. It's 2 in the morning and there's already a line. That bodycount is gonna add up quick. They stand behind a pair of young women, one with fire engine red hair and the other jet black gabbing about Ladyheart trivia. This is gonna be a long wait.
Sam is sitting in the car listening to Ladyheart music, trying to get his mind to focus. He's been doing this for- has it really been 18 hours? At one point he'd tried to sleep, but he was too worried about sleeping through the chaos to get anywhere close. He's been trying to distract himself from his own thoughts this entire time. He keeps playing the moment Lucifer dies in his mind, he's so freaking ready for this moment. He's been ready for years. Right about now, his mom and Dean are waiting inside the venue for the right time to strike. Sam gets out of the car and spends a solid couple of minutes trying to get the lance out of the car without breaking it. He needs to be ready by the back door when everyone is out, Crowley and Cas will not last forever and if he takes too long one or both of them could die. As he walks from the parking lot to the back door, hoping any passersby think he's carrying a prop for the show, he gets a call. Jody. He answers it, talking and walking.
"Hey, Jody. What's up?"
"You said Vince Vincente might be Lucifer? Well, I just found-"
"A concert free to people who mutilate themselves? Yeah, we're there now. Handling it."
"Oh!" She exclaims, surprised for some reason that they'd be there. "Well, be careful."
"We always are. But just in case, thank you for everything." She yells out, an expression of shock
"No! Sam, don't do that. No 'just in case' conversations. Magda is making something for you and she will be very unhappy if you aren't alive to see it."
"Okay, no just in case. But still, Jody. Thank you. Tell the girls and Elijah I say hi. Love you."
"Love you too, one of you call me when it's done." so I know you're alive. Sam's brain finishes for her.
"We will. See you later." Sam hangs up. Weirdly, that call was exactly what he needed. A reminder of what this job is about. Saving people, like Magda and Jody. It helps calm his growing anxiety and anger. He takes a deep breath, just another hunt. That's how he needs to see this. Just another thing that's killing people. This isn't Lucifer, this is a random rogue archangel. Sam holds the lance in his elbow as he bends down to pick the lock. He's surprised the back door isn't guarded, not sure if that's convenient or suspicious. With the door open, he slinks inside. He's in a narrow hallway, the ground made of concrete and the walls unfinished. He's definitely backstage, there are pictures along the wall of different acts who have performed here. He isn't too sure which direction to go, he can still hear fans chanting the name of the band. He's too early to make any kind of serious move. He decides to find a corner to hide in. He walks down the hallway until he accidentally finds himself in the dressing room.
There's a couch, where a member of Ladyheart sits with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. He's blonde, sturdy, and around Vince's age. Doesn't look like someone who scares easy, but holy shit he looks terrified. Sam can't really afford to deal with that right now. He turns to the left where he sees Cas, sitting against the wall bleeding from multiple wounds as well as his right ear. He's struggling to breathe but a blue light is emanating from each of his wounds, healing him. He turns to the right where he sees Crowley on the floor, the fingers in his right hand all broken. His nose is bleeding and his face could be charitably described as "rough." Sam stands in the doorway, worried because if Lucifer isn't here-
"Where is he?" Sam demands urgently.
"Stage." Crowley answers. What's taking Dean so long? Cas seems to be mostly done with his healing and rises to his feet. Three gunshots ring out, back to back. The crowd's chanting immediately shifts to panicked screeching. Vince's voice can be heard over the speaker system.
"It's all part of the show." Cas starts to run, but Crowley calls out.
"Not yet! We wait until the screaming stops." Sam isn't feeling super patient at the moment.
"We want to be onstage when that happens." He charges towards the stage, Cas on his heels. They have to push past various crew members who are desperate to get out. Someone grabs Cas and tries to talk him into leaving, but he shrugs himself out of their grip and keeps following Sam. They arrive onstage, the lights immediately blinding Sam. He holds an arm up to try to shield himself from the light and get his bearings. Lucifer's back is to Sam, and he is still speaking to the mass of people exiting the building as fast as they can. Almost everyone on the ground floor is out, save for Dean and Mary. Dean has been tackled to the floor and has two security guards on top of him. Sam can see his lips moving but he can't be heard over the screaming. Time slows down for Sam, the screams feel more distant and the chaos calms. He charges forward, winding the lance up. His heart beats hard and heavy as Lucifer turns to face him. Vince is close to burning out, his skin is grey and his eyes are beginning to cloud over. It looks like Cas and Crowley really gave him a workout. His eyes widen as genuine panic seeps in. Lucifer holds an arm in front of himself protectively. Sam feels the resistance as the lance makes contact with Lucifer's chest, but he keeps pushing until it breaks clean through Vince's body. Lucifer falls backwards and is pinned to the stage with the lance. For the first time, he looks afraid. Afraid, but not dead. Lucifer's eyes begin to bleed and he screams in agony, it's harsh and gutteral and sweeter than Sam could have imagined. Sam climbs off of Lucifer and stares down at him, worried if he takes his eyes off of him he'll miss the moment he burns out. The screaming has stopped, he can hear Dean's voice but the words aren't reaching him. Lucifer tries to speak but he's in too much pain to manage it. Sam lets go of the lance to kneel down beside Lucifer's head.
That was a mistake, Sam realizes too late. Lucifer pulls the lance from his chest and hurls it towards Cas, Dean's pained cry of "NO!" echoes throughout the stadium. It thuds into Cas' chest and knocks him off his feet. He crashes into a podium at the front of the stage and slides to the floor. Sam turns to see Dean is on his feet, both security guards asleep before their mother. Dean is barreling towards the stage, towards Cas. Dean pulls the lance from Cas' chest and studies it carefully.
"There's gotta be something we can do." Dean tries to speak with confidence but his panic is plain to see. Dean keeps fretting over Cas, who is unable to speak. Sam doesn't move from Lucifer's side, Lucifer gives a half smile. It's all he can manage. Sam doesn't want him going out feeling any sense of satisfaction. Sam punches him, reminding him that he's dying. This is the end. But once he's thrown that first punch, rage takes him over and he can't stop. Hitting him again and again. Letting loose all the fear and anger he's felt since he first let Lucifer out of that damn box. Someone tries to grab his shoulder but he throws whoever it is off of him. Sam draws his gun and starts firing it into Lucifer, knowing full well it won't do anything. Logic has started to go out the window at this point. The arm is back around his shoulder and he turns to see it's his mom.
"Sam! Castiel is dying!" She raises her voice, trying to get his attention. Sam realizes he's out of breath as he turns to look at Cas. He's bleeding from his eyes same as Lucifer. Sam isn't sure what she wants him to do about that. They all went into this knowing they could die, and it's not like there's a cure for the lance. Dean is staring at Sam, shock and fear plastered on his face. Sam looks at the gun in his hand and puts it back in his waistband. Crowley limps onto the stage and takes in the scene ahead of him.
"There isn't anything we can do for Cas, Mom." Sam explains remorsefully. He truly is sorry that Cas is dying, but it was going to happen whether Sam ran to his side or not.
"Break the spellwork, break the spell." Crowley says, looking at Cas. Dean studies the lance sitting at his side, trying to work out what Crowley means. Cas shakes his head as Dean picks up the lance. Cas grabs Dean's pant leg, trying to stop Dean from breaking it. Dean ignores him and holds it over his knee. Sam runs over to his brother and tries to take it from him.
"What the hell are you doing?! Let go, Sam." Dean tries to push Sam away but Sam keeps his grip on the lance.
"No! Dean you're about to let Lucifer walk!" Sam screams, desperation and anger evident. There are tears of frustration threatening to fall.
"You're about to let Cas die!" Dean shouts. Nothing is more important than killing Lucifer.
"Cas knew the risks!" Sam yells, yanking on the lance with force. It snaps in two and both Cas and Lucifer gasp for air. Lucifer's gasps quickly turn into a hearty laugh. Sam's heart drops to his stomach and he feels nauseous as he realizes it's over. Lucifer will live. Sam's legs suddenly turn to jelly and he falls to the ground from sheer emotional shock.
"Thanks for that, Sam." Lucifer slowly climbs to hit feet. He was already weak and close to burning out, and he's even closer to that now.
"Why did you do that?" Cas asks Dean, disappointed. Crowley answers for him as Sam rises back to his feet.
"He's sentimental." Everyone ignores Crowley. Sam pulls out the cuffs and dives for Lucifer, but is broken off when a stream of blue light flows from Vince's mouth. Dean, Crowley, and Mary all cover their ears and double over in pain as Lucifer speaks in his true voice. Lucifer's voice is harsh, but beautiful. Melodic, almost. It's like a choir singing the Dies Irae; intense and almost angry in tone yet awe-inspiring and pleasing to the ear. It's hard for Sam to focus on the words over the texture of Lucifer's voice. He's speaking Enochian, which Sam understands almost as well as English.
"Take me to your leader."
Once Dean's ears stop ringing, he offers a hand to Cas to bring him to his feet. Sam looks confused, and Dean is too. Why didn't Sam get hurt by Lucifer's voice? Sam repeats whatever it was the archangel said. Dean recognizes the syllables as Enochian, but it's all Greek to him.
"He said-" The rest of Cas' sentence is cut off by Sam.
"Take me to your leader. What the hell could that mean?" Dean looks to Cas for confirmation of Sam's translation. Cas nods, clearly also surprised that Sam understood it.
"It means Luci's aiming high and we're all fucked." Crowley answers in an exagerated tone. Dean is slightly scared of the answer, but he's gotta ask the question.
"Since when do you speak Enochian?" Dean asks. Sam gives an apologetic shrug.
"Less speak, more understand. It never really came up." Dean recognizes Sam avoiding the question as a refusal and doesn't push, today has been so insane that this is a footnote.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Sam asks. He seems completely shattered. Dean doesn't know how to react. He's pissed. Sam was just going to let Cas die, Cas! Cas is family, but Sam was willing to trade Cas' life for Lucifer's death. "We're right back to square one." Sam looks at Dean, his eyes loaded with anger and pain. Dean's sure his own eyes match Sam's intensity.
"We will handle it." Dean says "calmly" He's making an effort but it's not working, his anger laces every word. "But this isn't a devil take the hindmost situation, Sam. We don't abandon each other to die!"
"You shouldn't have broken the lance, Dean." Cas chastises. What the hell has gotten into him?
"Bullshit, Cas. You would've died!" Dean isn't sure what exactly Cas is misunderstanding here. Dean was not going to just let him die a painful horrible death, no way.
"We all went into this ready to die if it meant killing Lucifer." His mother reminds him. Am I the only one in this room who hasn't taken crazy pills? Apparently not because the next one to speak is Crowley.
"I'm not feeling particularly suicidal." The rest of this conversation is going to have to happen later as they all begin to hear stamping boots. Crowley takes that as his cue to leave and disappears. The rest of them hightail it the fuck out of there, running out the back door and down the parking lot. They all get in, Mary behind Dean and Cas behind Sam. Dean starts the car and pulls out without a word. Sam is looking down at his hands, lost in thought. Dean can not believe what just happened. He could never have pictured his baby brother letting an innocent die in the name of duty, let alone Cas. What the hell is wrong with him? And what was wrong with Cas? There are more important things than getting the job done. Cas can't let the tense silence stand for more than 5 minutes and speaks.
"Dean... Lucifer is too dangerous to-" Dean is not in the mood for a conversation and cuts him off.
"You know what, Cas? Until you figure out that killing Lucifer means nothing if you aren't alive to see it, you're off the case." Dean speaks harshly and somewhat condescendingly. Cas responds by flying away. Mary is the next to try to break the tension, reaching forward to turn the radio on. Dean immediately turns it back off. They ride in silence for hours until Dean starts falling asleep at the wheel and they start taking shifts driving. When they eventually get home, Sam finally feels brave enough to speak.
"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam starts quietly, seemingly genuine. "But whenever there's a big bad, people die. Bobby, Charlie, Jo, Ellen, Kevin, Dad. It happens, we can't save everyone."
"Yeah but we could save Cas, and you wanted us to just sit by and do nothing, that can't fly!" Dean's voice is even, but angry before he starts yelling. "We have never EVER traded anyone's lives but our own!" He's extremely tempted to throw a punch. Sam would deserve it for this one. "Your knee-jerk reaction was to stop me, you didn't even BLINK, Sam." Sam shakes his head, not accepting Dean's words. "You've been acting off for months. You think we-" he gestures to himself and his mom. "didn't notice? We see who you're turning into."
"What, you?" Sam retorts, his own frustration seeming to bubble to the surface. Dean ignores the obvious dig.
"Dad." Dean spits. He knows this will hurt Sam, and that's part of why he says it. It's true, and seems to hit Sam hard. Sam raises his voice in turn.
"That is NOT fair, Dean!" Sam marches right up to Dean, Dean studies his brother. He can really see their father in his features, the exhaustion, the weight he carries. And the anger.
"Is it? The twisted up revenge quest? Dragging the people who love you along on suicide runs? The sleepless nights?" Sam gives a pointed look to their mom, Dean understands the message but doesn't care. She still loves him. "You know revenge doesn't solve a damn thing, it's not worth people dying over!"
"You think that's what this is about? Dean, he was going to kill thousands tonight and more tomorrow. Stopping him comes before everything!" Sam speaks with emphasis, like every word took effort. Yet he doesn't seem to realize what he just said.
"You're quoting the man! I seem to remember you raising a card every time he said that so I'm raising one now. You're spiraling, Sam and it's not gonna end well." Dean's volume is back to a more managable level, but the fury isn't diminished.
"Enough!" Their mother screams, getting their attention. Once she has it, her tone immediately calms. "We will find another way, Sam."
"We're back to Michael-" Sam says, there's an edge to his voice but he doesn't sound quite as enraged.
"No." Dean growls. Not an option.
"We wouldn't have to consider it if we'd killed him today.." Sam mumbles under his breath.
"Alright, enough. Go to your rooms, both of you." Everyone freezes. Her tone reminds Dean of the time he wanted stay up late and watch ET. He'd thrown a full-on fit, falling to the floor and crying that it wasn't fair. She was stern, but kind. Promising they'd watch it tomorrow. Hearing that now feels ridiculous, Dean is a grown-ass man being sent to his room by his dead mom. Dean makes eye contact with Sam and he seems to also be wondering what the fuck he's supposed to do with that. Weirdly, the absurdity of it actually calms both of them quite a bit and they retreat to their respective rooms.
Once he's reached his room, Sam pulls out his phone. He knows Rowena died, but he also knows she's died before. In a moment of "what's the worst that could happen?" Sam dials her. To his mild surprise, she picks up.
"Samuel, calling to give your condolences on my recent passing?" Sam smiles, relieved.
"Something like that. Lucifer is bound to learn eventually that he can't keep you dead." He keeps his voice light, trying to hide his complete exhaustion. "I'm trying to kill him, but we gotta talk to Michael..." He trails off, hoping she will connect the dots for herself.
"And you want me to set up the appointment. Well, I'm not in the habit of doing anything for free."
"What do you want?" Sam asks, ready to give her whatever she needs.
"Lucifer dead." She whispers it, Sam isn't sure if there is someone else in the room or if she's surprised that it's that simple.
"Help me out and he will die." Sam promises.