Chapter Text
Dean was dead. Not for the first time, hopefully not for the last time. Sam knew getting him back would be nigh-impossible, but he'd faced worse odds and won. His home (a word that still felt foreign in his head, despite the fact that he'd never lived anywhere longer than the bunker) had a library full of spellbooks and lore, something important HAD to be there. Castiel, sitting next to him in the Impala's passenger seat, did not speak. Sam didn't want to either. Both of their minds occupied with grief and ideas for undoing their grief. If he's in Heaven, Castiel may be able to pull him down, but that wouldn't be fair to Dean. He'd earned his place in Heaven, I wouldn't want to take that from him. A demon deal is obviously off the table-
Sam pulls the car into the garage and gets out. He's not sure if Cas will stay or leave, it's not like angels need to eat or sleep. He turns around, half expecting Cas to have already flown away, but instead the angel is standing before him.
"I could... make you something to eat?" He offers, clearly unsure if that's the right thing to say. Sam chuckles internally, he's trying, he thinks to himself. But Sam is in absolutely no mood to eat and shakes his head.
"Thanks, Cas, but I need to get to work." The faster he works, the more options they have. Could always give Rowena a call, she's died before and come back.
"On bringing Dean back, I assume?" Sam nods, lacking the mental energy for needless speech. "I understand. I can help." Sam leads the way to the library, and stops dead in his tracks at what he sees.
There's a man in the library, reading Sam's personal copy of Paradise Lost that was on his nightstand. He looks to be about 30 years old, short dark hair and eyes. He's dressed in a suit, a briefcase resting against his chair. A lawyer, maybe? Who is this guy? And more importantly, how the hell did he get in? Sam's gun is out before the man even looks up, but the stranger is the first to speak.
"See, now this guy gets it." He says, holding up the book. Oh shit. How did he get in here? Castiel quickly takes stock of the situation, and puts to words what Sam already knows.
"Lucifer." The stranger smiles in response. Fear grips Sam, holding him in place. Sam and Castiel are at a disadvantage, and all three of them know it. Still, Castiel charges at Lucifer with his angel blade. He's barely taken two steps before Lucifer waves a hand and sends him flying into a nearby bookshelf, pinning him in place. Sam turns to confirm Cas is okay, and when he turns back to Lucifer the archangel is in his face. Sam tries to will his body to move, to do literally anything. But no course of action springs to mind.
"Thanks for the ride outta Hell, Castiel, but it's time for a reunion with my other half." He grabs Sam around the arm and in the blink of an eye, both are gone and Cas falls to the floor.
Cas gets to his feet, and notices the briefcase that was left behind. Unsure of what else to do, he opens it. He finds pictures of broken glass, a paper explaining a "motion to dismiss," and a few business cards with the name "Arnold Green." Arnold Green is, apparently, the defense attorney Lucifer has taken up residence in. He pockets one of the cards and resolves to find Sam when he hears a familiar voice calling his name.
"Cas? Guess who's not dead? Well, besides me. Oh yeah, I'm not dead." Castiel doesn't need to hear another word before he flies to Dean's last known location and ends up right beside him.
"Dean!" He exclaims, and wraps his arms around his friend. "How?"
"We didn't even need the bomb, but can you get us home? I'm sure Sam is about to do something stupid and I'd like him to meet his mother." Castiel regards the woman standing next to Dean, she appears completely dumbfounded, and not dressed for the weather in her nightgown. Dean can sense that Cas has something important to say, and gestures for him to speak his mind.
"Sam is gone. Lucifer was waiting for us in the bunker." Dean rubs his forehead, processing. They can never catch a fucking break. His mother, doing a lot more processing than Dean is, asks
"Lucifer? Satan? Satan has Sam?" There are about a million different things Dean wants to say to his mother. Yes, Lucifer. The devil has your son. It's not the first time Lucifer has taken Sam. Instead, he says
"I'll explain everything, to both of you. But for now, Mom-" he gestures at Cas "Castiel, Cas-" he gestures towards his mother "Mary. He's an angel, and we need to find Sam. Cas, please tell me you have something, anything." Dean's desperation is on blatant display, every second Sam spends with Lucifer is a failure. The kid thinks I'm dead and he gets kidnapped by Lucifer almost immediately, he probably doesn't have his own best interest at heart right now. Castiel reaches into his pocket and hands Dean the business card.
"We know his vessel's name, place of business, and occupation. Lucifer sometimes likes to live as his vessel, especially if they're powerful or wealthy. It's the best lead we have." Dean nods his head, firmly. Cas places a hand on both Mary and Dean and in a blink, they're back at the bunker. Mary takes it in, awestruck.
"What is this place?" She asks, but Dean is already in the library with his laptop open and searching for any information on Arnold Green. He doesn't look up, but answers her simply and curtly.
"Home." He's not trying to be rude, but his top priority is not catching up with his mom. Mary regards Dean, his brow furrowed and his lips tight. She's awkward, she doesn't really know what to do or how to help. Dean knows he owes her an explanation but he can't really waste time.
"Cas, why don't you catch Mom up on... everything." He says it like an order, an undercurrent of anger and drive. Cas' expression is one of confusion, but he obliges. Dean pays absolutely no attention to them. Arnold Green seems to be a nepotism baby, his parents' law firm having existed since he was born. He's well-known in Detroit- of course Detroit- for finding loopholes in the law and exploiting them to the fullest possible extent. Definitely rich and influential, but not exactly powerful in the way Lucifer might find appealing. He finds Arnold Green's license plate number and scans traffic cameras, coming up empty. Of course, why would Satan drive a car? He chastises himself. He finds a review for his services, not groundbreaking. Arnold owns a yacht called The Shrieking Violet, whoop de doo I guess but it doesn't help me find Sam. Dean manages to find a home address and starts jotting it down, cutting Castiel off mid-sentence.
"I got an address, good a place as any to look. Let's go." He rises from his seat and starts towards the garage. His mom stops him, putting herself between him and the stairs.
"Can we stop at a thrift store? I'm not sure a nightgown works for a rescue." Dean rolls his eyes. We don't have time for this.
"Mom, I'd feel a lot better if you stayed here." Dean instructs, his eyes pleading "You just got back from the dead and haven't hunted in a few... decades. You don't know much about real angels and even less about Lucifer specifically."
"I'm your mother. I'm coming." She pauses to collect herself, her eyes look up at Dean in a way that reminds him of Sam. "I don't even know what Sam looks like." She says, just above a whisper. Dean is slightly taken aback, it's weird to hear her pull rank as his mother. But this is a situation he knows she can't handle.
"Mom, the state we're gonna find him in? It won't look like him, Mom. You can meet him once Cas cleans him up, Mom." Wow, I must've really missed saying "Mom" He moves around her to go up the stairs, but she follows. I guess Dad's not the only hardhead parent we got.
Sam is unsteady on his feet, relatively normal after being flown around by an angel, but it doesn't subside like it usually would. He scans the room, a couch sits across from a full bar with three ornate barstools, the middle one is clearly someone's favorite judging by the wear on it. A TV hangs above the bar, currently displaying the Windows start-up screen for some reason. There is a large sculpture of a naked woman in one corner, a potted plant in another. A fishtank spans the entirety of the wall to his left. Next to the bar is a metal door with a sign that says "Restroom," the door is raised a couple inches off the ground. It reminds Sam of the doors on Garth's houseboat. Oh, that's why I'm still getting my sealegs. I'm literally at sea. Lucifer is still gripping his arm tight. Hopeless situations are the time for prayer, so...
"Cas-" He starts, but he suddenly feels a wave of exhaustion overtake him as he falls.
Sam wakes up to the TV playing something Sam doesn't recognize with Lucifer sitting across from him on the couch. Both Sam's hands and feet tied to one of the barstools, his arms are held too high up to reach his pockets shit I can't reach my knife. For once, his feet don't reach the ground, Lucifer has him in a frog sit position. His mouth gagged with a bandana he keeps in his pocket. He struggles a bit against his restraints, trying to figure out how difficult it will be to get out of. He looks down at his feet, the rope is only a little smaller than his fist. The kind you'd find on a boat rather than a hardware store. He's improvising, Sam realizes, he's using whatever he can find laying around. Lucifer notices Sam waking up and turns off the TV.
"Sam Winchester. You gotta stop thinking you can just ditch me. I had to walk out of Hell wearing Castiel, which would be embarrassing enough if you weren't standing right there with him." Lucifer stands and slowly walks towards Sam, enjoying the drama of it all.
"Here's the thing: You and I? We're unavoidable." Lucifer's face is inches from Sam's. "You can kick and scream and fight the system all you want, but when push shoves? You're mine. You will always be mine. I get it, you don't like it. I don't particularly enjoy the idea either, but neither of us have a choice." Sam is staring daggers into Lucifer, trying to say with his eyes what he can't with his mouth: The choice is entirely mine, and you know what I'm gonna say "You will say yes to me, or I keep burning through vessel after vessel to stay on Earth until you are the only human left alive. I am never going back to the cage, you understand?"
Sam tries to think of a plan that doesn't require either his mouth or his hands and comes up empty. He wonders if nodding his head would count as a yes, if it doesn't he can pretend to comply and then call out for Castiel once it's off. But if a headnod does count, then he's screwed.
"Dean's dead, so what do you have to lose? Scout's honor, I won't go about ending the world. This time, I just wanna be free. Michael's gone, so is Dean. So neither of us really have anything to work for. I just want a normal life, same as you. Work a 9-5, couple of rugrats, my little wife massaging my feet." Sam's heart drops at the mention of Dean. He knows Lucifer knows Dean is the only chink in his armor and is exploting that, but awareness of it doesn't stop the blade from striking true. He turns his gaze to Lucifer, noticing a sore beginning to form on his forehead. This guy doesn't have much time. If I can wait him out, I'll be able to work this gag out of my mouth and ask Cas to come untie me. He keeps his face steady, almost bored. He prepares himself for the blows sure to come. It's not like there's anything Lucifer hasn't already done to him, and at a certain point you just get kinda numb to it.
"Sammy? You listening?" He is listening, but he does nothing to indicate it to Lucifer. He keeps his eyes trained on the couch. "Man, I'm talking to you." The couch is bright red, the color of a rich old lady's lipstick. A loud CRACK rings out as Lucifer's fist collides with Sam's face, almost certainly breaking his nose, releasing a geyser of blood. It looks like velvet, man who is this guy? The stool is grabbed and roughly slammed into the ground. There's something under the couch, is that a handkerchief? Lucifer stands with his feet on either side of Sam. There's a dark stain on the front of the couch, no telling what that could possibly be. Lucifer lands another blow to Sam's gut. Honestly, he's just roughhousing at this point. Lucifer stamps his leg on Sam's knee, bending it in a way it absolutely shouldn't be able to bend. Dont react, the more energy he uses the faster the vessel burns. Lucifer lifts the chair back up and snaps his fingers. Sam can't identify exactly what Lucifer just did, but he is hit with an agonizing headache and only sees red. It takes him a second to realize there is blood dripping from his eyes. Brain bleed. He can't kill me, he needs me.
"What the hell, man? Pay attention!" Sam lazes his eyes up to Lucifer, though he is quickly losing his vision. He groans. "Oh, right. My bad." Lucifer admits, snapping his fingers again and doing away with the headache. "It just looked like you were ignoring me. Old habits die hard, I guess. I had you for almost two hundred years and then you were just" he gestures an explosion "Poof, gone. I don't have to be the bad guy. Just let me in." His vessel has turned slightly grey in color, but he's still holding out. I'm so sorry, you poor bastard. Sam speaks into the gag, he's not really trying to say anything, just trying to give the impression that he's trying to speak.
Lucifer tuts "That didn't sound like a yes, Sam." He reaches behind the bar and pulls out the knife Sam usually keeps in his back pocket.
Dean drives like the wind, his fear growing every second Sam spends with Lucifer. His mother sits in the passenger seat, wearing a thrifted green flannel over her nightgown and jeans underneath, staring contemplatively out the window. Dean wants to say something, but there aren't really words for this situation. Especially not with Cas in the backseat. Actually why is Cas in the backseat? He has wings.
"Cas, why don't you go scout ahead? Play 20 questions with his coworkers or something. Call when you need to find us." Cas disappears wordlessly. Mary turns her head, surprised.
"You seem very used to seeing a man teleport." She notes.
"That's 'cuz I am. It comes in handy." Dean shrugs, still not really sure how to navigate this situation. Sam and Cas come back from the dead all the time, but his mom has been dead for decades. He knows it's probably weirder for her, she hasn't seen him since before he could reach the bathroom sink. She's younger than her sons, for fucks sake. That's gotta be weird for anyone. He wants so badly to blame her for everything that went wrong in his life, but he wants just as badly to pretend none of it ever happened. He wants to ask her why she went into that nursery. He wants to tell her that John went off the deep end after she died. He wants to tell her that he missed her every single day. He wants to tell her about how great Sam grew up to be. He wants to ask her if she wants to start hunting again. He wants to tell her everything, but at the same time he wants to tell her absolutely nothing. Out of all the things he could possibly say, what comes out of his mouth is:
"Do not underestimate Lucifer. And don't listen to anything coming out of his mouth. He lies easier than you breathe. Our only option is to distract him, get Sam, and run like hell. There is no killing him, only stalling and containing him." She nods her head. "I'm serious, Mom. This isn't a hunt, this is a rescue."
Mary cocks her head "Castiel said Sam killed him."
"No, Sam contained him. And he died for it. Spent a hundred and eighty years in Hell being tortured by him. Dad's other kid is still in the cage with Michael. I can only pray Michael's not like his brother." Ain't that the truth. Dean has no clue what Adam's experience in Hell is. Sam doesn't talk about the cage, and Dean doesn't ask.
"John had another kid?" Cas left that part out, huh? Dean nods.
"Adam. Seven years younger than Sam. We only found out about him after Dad died. He wasn't a hunter. I guess Dad thought he could have his cake and eat it too, a hunter family and an apple pie on the side." Dean grits his teeth, regretting sharing his resentment so soon after his mother's return. Mary goes back to looking out the window. Dean feels a twinge of guilt, she never wanted her kids to grow up hunting. And clearly John was capable of being a normal (if somewhat absent) dad with Adam. Dean's thoughts are interupted when his phone rings, Cas' name on the caller ID. He takes the next exit and answers.
"Hey, we're pulling off exit 17, meet us-" and Castiel is in the backseat. With Eileen? What the hell? She waves at Dean before turning to Mary.
"Hi Dean." Mary looks at Dean (who is looking at Cas) for answers.
"I never made it to his office, I went to his house and found Eileen."
"Two bodies, drained of all their blood. I thought it was a vampire nest but he-" Eileen points at Castiel "said it was Lucifer?"
"Those were demons he drained of blood to strengthen his vessel." Dean explains like it's obvious. Eileen looks to Cas, who repeats what Dean said word-for-word for her to read his lips. Eileen bites her lip, apprehensive. "Cas, why the hell did you bring her with you? We got a possible suicide run going on, we don't need to add her blood to our ledger."
"There is strength in numbers, Dean. We stand a far better chance at getting Sam out if we overwhelm Lucifer." Dean stares at Cas, that explanation is not good enough. Cas relents and tells him the truth. "When I told her he has Sam, she insisted."
"I'm coming. Do we know where Sam is?" Eileen asks, Dean waits for Cas to answer. No need to play telephone when Cas knows has the same information as Dean. To his surprise, Cas has a new answer.
"He's on a boat."
Sam doesn't really know how Lucifer expects him to say yes with a fucking gag in his mouth, but it seems like he's hoping Sam can figure it out. Lucifer is behind Sam, gripping his left hand tight with his fingers splayed out. He's been working the knife underneath his fingernails one by one and prying them off, cutting into the skin beneath. He's already worked through Sam's right hand and three fingers on his left. He starts in on his index finger, Sam's screams muffled into the gag.
"This little piggy had none..." Lucifer singsongs, taking his sweet time wedging the knife between the nail and skin. The point of the knife jabbing into the bottom of his nailbed, drawing blood. Most people don't realize how sensitive the skin there is, but Sam is very aware of that fact. Distantly, Sam realizes Lucifer would much rather be doing something far worse but has to consider Sam's mortality (a concern he didn't have in the cage). All he can do is wait for Dean. Dean's dead. He reminds himself. I need to get this gag off. The fingernail slowly peels back, the cool air touching the skin beneath feels like razor blades. His own warm blood calms the chill, but not the pain. It feels like literal pins and needles. There is a release of pressure from the knife no longer being jammed in a space it doesn't fit. Lucifer walks back in front of Sam, licking the knife.
"Does the next little piggy need to cry 'wee wee wee' all the way home, or are we done here?" Sam regards Lucifer, his vessel looking worse for wear. His skin is splitting, grey veins clearly visible. His eyes are sunken. So close. Sam shakes his head, trying to say "I won't let you posess me," but Lucifer takes it as "No, we don't need to do this again. I submit." He carefully sets the knife down, far from Sam's reach. Sam can't help but smile. Even tied up, he knows not to take chances. I scare him.
"We could've skipped all of this, you know. Once I'm in, I'll clean all this up." Lucifer unties the gag, Sam doesn't waste a second in calling out.
"Castiel, we're on a boat!" He cries out. He expects Lucifer's anger, but it no longer matters to him. Someone knows where he is, he's not going to die alone here. Lucifer snaps his fingers, and Sam feels his tongue sever. Sam spits it out onto the floor, staring at the bloody muscle. That image is not leaving my brain any time soon. He meets Lucifer's eyes, and smiles. His vessel is grotesque (not as terrible as Lucifer's true face, but that's a pretty high bar), decaying rapidly. He looks like one of the hundreds of corpses Sam has seen in his life. His skin is gray and stretched thin to the point of peeling off in sheets, his veins are black, eyes clouded over and desiccated. It seems Lucifer overextended himself in silencing Sam.
"Say yes, Sam. This is your last chance!" You mean it's YOUR last chance, Sam thinks to himself, smiling. Lucifer falls to his knees, clearly struggling to stay inside of this unfortunate man. "No!" his cries extended out as a burst of blue light rockets out of the lawyer's mouth. The vessel falls forward, dead. Sam takes a moment to pity the stupid son of a bitch who let Lucifer in, before chastising himself for insulting the man's intelligence. Lucifer is incredibly manipulative, after all. It wouldn't be too hard for him to weasel his way into almost anyone. Sam knows he has the upper hand, he just hopes the price of that doesn't get too high before he can work out a more permanent solution. Sam tries the binding on his hands, feeling around for any weak points. He suddenly feels weak, reminding him that his mouth is issuing a fountain of blood. He's fading, quicker than he would like, a fact that is confirmed when he starts seeing dead people immediately before falling unconscious.
Dean gets tunnel vision when Castiel flies them to the boat. He takes absolutely no notice of his surroundings, other than Sam bound in a chair. His eyes are lazing around the room, woozy from blood loss until they close and his head falls forward.
"Sammy?" Dean rushes to his brother's side, untying his hands. Hands first, always. No longer being held upright, Sam slumps forward. Dean catches him, cradling his face. Feeling his brother's blood running into his hand reignites Dean's panic. ohshitohshitohshitohshit. He resolves (once again) to kill the devil himself. "You with me?" He lightly slaps Sam's face, trying to rouse him. Dean feels for a pulse, giving a silent prayer of thanks when he finds one. His eyes dart anxiously around the room, though he isn't really paying much attention to anything he sees. Cas looks winded after flying himself plus three people, but Sam doesn't have much time. "Cas?" Dean knows he doesn't need to say more. Castiel palms Sam's forehead, emitting a blue light. Dean steps back to let him work, keeping careful vigil over his brother. His mother is watching them quizically, unsure of what else to do, she starts untying Sam's legs. Eileen is the first to notice the decayed body in front of them.
"Is that Lucifer?" Eileen asks, kneeling down to examine the body. Nobody answers her, their focus elsewhere. Dean mutters a quiet "come on come on come on" under his breath as Cas works. It usually doesn't take more than a moment, why is it taking so long? After the longest 10 seconds of Dean's life, Sam finally lifts his head.
"Sammy? Thank you, Cas." I should really start thanking him more often.
"Dean? Are we dead?" Sam looks at the crowd that has gathered, appropriately confused. Sam's eyes widen at something behind Dean. "Mom?" he asks.
"Sam." She approaches her younger son cautiously. "You've gotten so big." She smoothes his hair comfortingly, Sam leans into the touch. Dean waits until she withdraws her hand to speak, but speaks over Eileen hugging Sam.
"Ok, everybody owes everybody a lot of explanation. I'll start. Operation suicide bomber didn't get past go, we played Dr. Phil. Amara and Chuck made up and went on a couple's retreat so we're back to a godless universe. Amara's still holding a candle for me and brought Mom back as a thank you. Now it's your turn, Sam. What'd Lucifer want?"
"Same thing as last time. The big yes." He shrugs, as though this was a regular Tuesday. When did our lives get so weird that this truly is a normal situation? Sam raises an eyebrow. "You called Eileen?"
"Right place, right time. But don't think you shouldn't call me when something big happens. Three heads are better than one." Eileen exchanges half-smiles with Sam. Dean whispers "she insisted" to Sam, his back to Eileen. "So, the body?" She continues, pointing at the grey former-human on the floor.
"Meet your vampire." Dean's tone dry, he wanders behind the bar and takes the first bottle labeled whiskey he can find. "Anyone know if this is good?" Getting no reply, Dean shurgs and pours it into a glass and grabs a giant ice cube "Surface area" he whispers to himself. Mary tilts her head to one side and licks her lips like she wants to speak, though she says nothing. Right, last she saw me I was four. He slowly takes a sip, making awkward eye contact with her.
"Sam, did Lucifer say anything about his intentions? Or where he may be going next?" Castiel asks, getting back to business. Sam smiles ruefully.
"He said he wanted a normal 9-5." Sam pauses, thinking. "All I got is he wants to possess me. No idea why, last time that happened he ended up in the cage, which he wants to avoid. Maybe a perfect vessel thing?"
"That's exactly what it is." Castiel confirms "For most angels, there multiple vessels we can inhabit. What determines a suitable vessel is entirely unknown, even to us. But when we search for a vessel, certain voices just ring louder and sweeter than others. It's difficult to explain. Eileen has the capacity to hold me with no damage. There are other angels able to possess her, but some angels would explode her on contact." Castiel seems to finally notice the reaction this line of thinking has recieved. Dean is staring at him with raised eyebrows, Eileen's eyes are wide and her mouth is hanging slightly open, Mary is nodding her head clearly paying attention, and Sam is looking at Eileen rubbing his fist against his chest in a small circle. "Of course, this is a hypothetical. Angels are quite rare now, in Heaven and on Earth. My point being archangels are different. They can theoretically possess anyone from a certain bloodline, anyone else will slowly decay the more it is used. Lucifer is unique in that bloodline doesn't matter. After his fall, Heaven cut off the bloodline meant for him, to ensure if he were to return there would be no vessel to hold him. So Hell created their own bloodline." Sam looks down, embarrassed. Dean isn't sure why, it's not like it's Sam's fault. Dean knows the rest of this story and doesn't want to hear it again. Fortunately Cas skips to the end. "Lucifer can not stay on Earth without a vessel, and unlike his brothers he only has one option since Hell killed their entire fabricated bloodline. Archangel's powers are also significantly heightened when in their true vessels. Gabriel has been in his perfect vessel for centuries, and you have seen how powerful he became. Raphael's has yet to be born. Each archangel knows and understands their perfect vessel deeply before they are even concieved, and forms a strong bond with them. Michael and Lucifer know you two better than you know yourselves. I once heard Michael refer to it as 'getting his strength from a mirror' though I doubt Lucifer would phrase it so poetically. They all view their perfect vessels as their reflection and feel incomplete without them. Being in Sam would empower him significantly and fulfill the need he has for Sam."
Well that's not creepy at all. Michael knows everything about me? That means he knows my every weakness. That means Lucifer knows all of Sam's. One thing is for damn sure, this plan for taking down the devil will not involve the cage. We can't risk him busting out again, but more than that I can't risk Sam. The memories alone nearly killed him, I can't let that torture resume.
Dean looks at his drink, turns out it is good. "How do we ice the devil?" An uneasy and unsure silence hangs in the room. If killing the devil were easy, they wouldn't have needed to cage him last time. But they'd learned a lot since then, and found a bunker full of occult knowledge. There had to be something somewhere that could help. But that answer would not be found standing on a dead man's yacht. Dean grimaces before finishing his drink, aware they are once again undertaking a monumental task. "Well, we got work to do."
Notes:
Sam way signing "Sorry" to Eileen in response to Castiel's explanation, btw. I'm severely hard of hearing and fluent in ASL, so expect that to come up a lot.
Thanks for reading! Btw I'm writing this to entertain myself while home with a concussion, I'll probably give everything another pass once my brain works again.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Shortly after returning to the bunker, Castiel hears the prayer of a devout woman begging for help with her possessed daughter. TFW decide to follow up on the possible Lucifer tip together, but things head left pretty quickly.
AKA: I rewrite American Nightmare because I need to make it known that in this AU, Magda lives.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam's hair is still wet from the longest shower of his life, the blood around his fingernails is dried lengthening the time it took to dig it all out. There's still a lot trapped underneath but he'd just have to wait for them to grow longer and take it out piece by piece. And the shower brings him comfort, it gives him a place to think. Being around Lucifer at all makes his skin crawl. Cas' revelation about how archangels view their vessels was not comforting in the slightest. He's had enough of angels and demons being inside his head, the idea of Lucifer knowing everything about who he is makes him want to climb out of his own body. He has no secrets from Lucifer. Sam has always been a private person who keeps things close to his chest, the fact that his enemy know him better than Dean is disturbing. Finally satisfied that he doesn't look like Exhibit A in a murder trial, he dresses himself quickly and goes to the foyer. He still doesn't really know what to make of the fact that his mother sits next to Dean. They're smiling at each other, enjoying some shared memory that Sam will never know. She's a complete stranger to Sam, but one with a profound impact on his life. He's not sure how to join the conversation, or even if he should. That choice is made for him by Dean, like almost all of his decisions are.
"Sammy, how you feeling? You almost died. Again" Dean's voice is intentionally casual, further highlighting his worry over the day's events.
"I'm fine, it wasn't my first time alone with Lucifer." Sam is trying to reassure his family, but he sees the horror in his mother's eyes and averts his own. "Did Eileen and Cas leave?"
Dean is silent for a moment, he tightens his lips. Dean is holding something back. Sam notices. I guess we're both walking on eggshells around Mom.
"Cas is globetrotting for signs of Lucifer. Eileen is in the kitchen making nachos, she insisted on staying until you got out of the shower. I texted Jody about Lucifer, she's hocking the headline to every hunter she knows to call us and not engage if they catch wind of him." Dean sighs, clearly not happy about what he's about to say. "Crowley's got his feelers out too, he insisted on stationing his bravest and most suicidal demons in town so they can alert him if Lucifer breaks in again." Sam shakes his head slightly. Demons know to steer clear of the Winchesters, Lebanon and the surrounding area have had absolutely zero demonic activity since they moved in. What demon in their right mind would volunteer for that job?
"Great, demons in our backyard. That won't be a problem." Sam rubs his eyes, his voice is dripping sarcasm. He takes a seat next Dean, wary of sitting next to his mother. She notices his apprehension and addresses it immediately, leaning over to catch his eye.
"Sam, I am so sorry. For all of it. Dean was just telling me about how resiliant you are, but it's my fault that you had to be." She looks at Dean. "Both of you. You deserved to grow up playing baseball and arguing over who took whose transformer, not decapitating monsters and living in hotels." Sam thinks carefully about what to say, this is a conversation he hadn't thought possible. Sam never blamed his mom, his life was his life for better or worse. As far as she knew, the man she married was a great father and hunting was firmly in the past. She was unable to concieve of a world where her sons were hunters, let alone "The Winchesters." He doesn't know how much she knows, but he's grateful he will be able to tell her everything one day. Just not today.
"Mom... you never had any more choice than we did." Sam pauses, choosing his words carefully. He knows what he is about to say will bring no comfort, though hopefully it will allow her to forgive herself. "Heaven and Hell were both trying to make all of it happen, it's the only thing they agreed on. It had been in the works since Lucifer fell. God himself wrote it. You can't defy God." His mom nods her head solemly. "One way or another, Azazel was always going to visit us. I forgave you a long time ago, and I know Dean has too. I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you're sitting here in front of me." Sam smiles, his first real smile in years. "My entire life, you've been a picture and a mission." He puts on his best impression of his father. "'This is your mother, a monster killed her right in front of you. We're gonna hunt it down and kill the son of a bitch." Dean stifles a laugh at the (admittedly) poor impersonation, Sam ignores him. "but now you're a living human being. I get to find out who you actually are, who we could have been. Sometimes, Dad would tell me I reminded him of you, but I had no idea why. Now, I finally get to find out." Sam realizes it as he says it. I get to have a mom. Mary doesn't get the chance to respond, if she was ever going to. Eileen struts right up to the table, setting down a steaming hot tray of beef nachos with the works. She signs as she speaks, addressing the room. Sam rises to meet her.
"There's more in the kitchen. Eat up." Dean's face lights up as he dives in, not worrying about the grease he's coating the table with and toppings falling from the chips. Eileen turns to face Sam specifically, looking up at him in concern. "Are you okay? That looked... terrible." Sam gives a half-hearted smile and small nod. He didn't want her to see him like that. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle reassuring squeeze. I'm still standing. She looks down at his hands, lost in thought. Sam knows she's looking at the dried blood and lets go, covering for it by signing to her. I'm okay.
Dean is enjoying the hell out of those nachos, they're smokey and spicy. Best of all worlds. He looks up to see his mom staring at him. She's probably hungry too, she hasn't eaten since she got back. He looks between her and the plate before nudging it a bit further in her direction. He's not trying to hog them, but he supposes that's what it looks like. A flap of wings from behind him and he's on his feet. He knows logically it's more likely to be Cas than Lucifer, but his knee-jerk reaction is to draw his angel blade. Sam has gotten into an unarmed fighting stance, shoving Eileen (who pulled her gun out in answer to Sam and Dean's panic) behind him. There's a moment of silence as Cas raises his arms in surrender and the hunters relax and stow their weapons.
"Cas, any sign of him?" Dean asks, skipping the "you scared the shit out of us" part of the conversation.
"A woman is praying to get the devil out of her daughter." Cas' delivery is somewhat unsure, this is a thin lead. Dean raises his brow, considering.
"And we don't think this is a religious nut with a rebellious atheist kid because...?" He holds a hand out, prompting Cas to finish his sentence.
"Because she claims this girl has killed people with her mind." Dean tightens his lips. Devil or not, it's a case.
"Good enough for me. Sammy, come help me load the car." Sam looks at Dean, confused. The car is always loaded. Sam doesn't openly question his brother, and follows him to the garage. Once they're alone, Sam faces him. Dean lays it out in no uncertain terms. "I don't want Mom coming along on a wild Lucifer chase." Sam nods his head.
"I'm with you, but why are we having this conversation in the garage?"
"Because she wants to hunt. She said she didn't want this life for us, but she's not letting us do it without her. As if what we do is at all comparable to what hunting looked like for her." Silence hangs in the air for a moment, until Sam's brow raises and he cocks his head.
"So we show her the difference. Our journals, and dad's. I'm sure she wants to get caught up anyway. Tell her we got this one while she reads. Then, we let her make a choice on whether or not she wants this life." Not a bad idea, unless...
"What if she reads it and decides she still wants in?" His voice a frustrated whisper. Dean can't lose her a second time, she's been missing from his life far too long. He can't get her killed. Sam shrugs.
"Then she's in. We can't make that choice for her, Dean. She's an adult. She's a hunter."
"She's our mom!" Dean snaps, his voice rising. Why is he being so casual about this? Sam knows better than anyone how dangerous Lucifer is, and he's just fine with his mother being in the line of fire? Sam rolls his eyes.
"Exactly, Dean, she's our mom. We don't get to dictate what she does with her life."
Dean shifts his weight, unable to come up with a good rebuttal for that. "Get your journal." Sam nods his head and goes to do exactly that. Dean goes to the car to retrieve his father's, then heads back into the bunker. On the way, he passes by the table everyone has gathered around.
"Are we ready to go?" Mary asks, rising from her seat.
"Actually, Mom, there's something Sam and I want you to see first. Hang tight." He goes to collect his journal, meeting Sam on the way. They set the books on the table in front of Mary. Dean pats each book, identifying who they belong to. "Me, Sam, and Dad. We figured it might help you learn what we're up against here." She reaches for John's, it doesn't escape Dean's notice that she started there. Dean points at Sam, "You're looking at the only human to go against Lucifer and win." Sam's eyes go to the floor at his brother's bragging on his behalf.
"It'll also help you get caught up on, you know, how our lives have gone. The kind of things we've been hunting. We thought we could look into Cas' lead while you looked at these." His mom gives a small grateful smile, wistfully tracing the binding on John's journal.
"You must be the first people in history to want your mother reading your diary." She makes eye contact with Sam, her smile breaking into a grin. Sam chuckles, and flashes Dean an "I told you so" look. Dean rolls his eyes. Don't rub it in, weirdo. Sam hugs Eileen, they have a short conversation in sign language. I gotta learn that, it could be useful when we need to be quiet on a hunt. Eileen picks up her bag and Sam walks her out while Dean and Cas head to the car together.
As the Impala drives towards the homestead, Sam is doing everything he can to not seem anxious. If Lucifer really is here, they have no real way to deal with him other than the handcuffs. But once he's cuffed, what the hell are they gonna do with him? This time, he has Cas and Dean behind him but that just gives Lucifer more targets. He really shouldn't be here, he knows Lucifer is going to try and bait him again. I hold the power in this situation, he reminds himself, I call the shots. If I say he's not getting in, he's not getting in. We just need to be fast about the handcuffs. We can't let him get away from us again, we'll find some way to kill him. There will be a body count if we can't at least contain him. But what about the girl he's possessing? She's an innocent. We keep killing people in an effort to kill demons and angels. God, how much red is in our ledger? Everything Lucifer does is on us, we let him out. No, I let him out. Again.
Sam is pulled out of his thoughts when Dean knocks on the passenger window. When did we stop? Sam hurries himself out of the car, Dean studying him.
"Sam, are you good? You spent the last 15 miles in a trance." Sam licks his lips and readjusts his stance, thinking. No, I'm not good. But we don't need to acknowledge it.
"I'll be a lot better with Lucifer in our trunk." He answer honestly. There's an undercurrent of anger and determination to his voice. This fight is personal, and they all know it. "What's the pretext?"
"Cas and I were talking while you were being weird. We don't need one. This woman prayed to the angels, and here-" he points at Castiel, who is painting new sigils on the trunk "we have the genuine article. You and me? Servants of God." Sam can't help but laugh at that. Us? Servants of Heaven? Heaven wants us dead.
"Right, because we live such pious lives. Totally not a pretext." Sam pulls the handcuffs out of his pocket and studies them. They have no way of knowing whether or not they will work.
"Hey, who did God appear to when Amara was getting out of hand?" Dean grins boldly, but Sam doesn't want to continue this particular conversation. Cas finishes whatever he was doing to the car, and the three of them walk up to the door. Sam rings the doorbell, a dog barks inside as they wait. After a few moments, an older couple answers the door. The woman wears a dress straight out of the 50s and an apron, she looks like the most stereotypical tradwife possible. Her hair is short, dyed, and coiffed, her eyes are warm. The man looks to be a lot more stern, dressed in a blue shirt with suspenders. He's balding and grey, the same height as Dean. He looks the visitors up and down before curtly saying "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested."
"We're not here to sell anything. We're here to help." Sam reassures them, fidgeting a bit. Lucifer is close. Don't lose your head. Stay calm. Stay calm.
Castiel turns towards the woman, "We've come in answer to your prayers, ma'am. I'm an angel of the lord." Cas' eyes flare blue in an effort to prove he's telling the truth, the couple is rendered speechless. "My name is Castiel, this is Sam and Dean." The woman's eyes widen, she steps back to allow their guests inside. As Dean goes to enter, the man grabs him by the arm to stop him and stares him down.
"There are no angels named Sam or Dean. Who are you really?" Dean looks to Sam, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"We're servants of God, tasked with bringing the devil to heel. We're humans with a mission ordained by capitol-G himself." The man looks at Sam to confirm, Sam nods.
"We're only here to help. Lucifer is our cross to bear, but he's not yours." The truth of that hits Sam like a truck. As long as either of us lives, Lucifer will forever be my problem to solve. "Please let us in." The man considers for a moment before letting Dean go and welcoming the strangers into his home. The house is nice, if a little old-fashioned. It reminds Sam a bit of Rufus' cabin, with the plain wood interior. The woman leads her guests into the living room, a floral print couch and matching living chair with a rocking chair in the corner. A grandmother's rug with a spot in it the size of a basketball that has clearly been burned. A random fire in a perfect circle, that's not suspicious at all.
"Have a seat," the woman says, gesturing towards the couch. They oblige, Dean sitting in between Sam and Cas. "My name is Gail, this is my husband Abraham. You'll forgive his attitude earlier, we don't like visitors." She sits in the rocking chair, her husband stays on his feet.
"Of course. Can you tell us about what's been going on? What prompted your prayer?" Castiel asks, getting straight to business.
"Magda, our daughter, she's been demonstrating some demonic abilities." She trails off, this is clearly a painful topic for her. She looks to Abraham for reassurance, he nods his head in confirmation of something. "She can move things with her mind, and..." She looks down at the ground, trying to find the words.
"Ma'am, whatever you're about to say will not surprise us. We've fought Lucifer before, we know what he is capable of." Sam looks at her, hoping his eyes convey compassion rather than panic. Still, she remains silent.
"We get checked on by social services." Abraham, picking up where his wife left off. "Homeschooling your kids away from temptation and sin is a crime in modern society. Last week, a woman came by. Magda sent the devil into this woman. She lashed at her with no whip in her hand from 100 feet away. Poor woman died saying the prayers we make Magda say, beating herself with an invisible whip." Sam and Dean exchange a worried look. That's not something Lucifer usually does.
"Do her eyes ever glow red?" Dean asks, both parents shake their heads. "What does it look like when she uses her powers?" Dean is clearly thinking along the same lines as Sam. Sam feels himself relaxing as it dawns on him that they might not be dealing with Lucifer at all. This might just be a regular hunt after all. He unclenches his fists (how long have I been holding them like that?).
"She stares really intensely at objects she wants to move. Goes still and silent as a stone. It looks like nobody's home," Abraham answers. That definitely doesn't sound like Lucifer's usual nonchalance, what are we dealing with here?
"Mr. and Mrs...." Sam starts, waiting for one of them to fill in with her last name. "Peterson." Gail supplies. "Peterson, would you excuse us for a moment?" The couple share a look with each other.
"Yes, we'll be in the kitchen if you need us." They both exit, and once they're out of earshot-
"Did... any of that sound like Lucifer to you guys?" Dean asks, rising from his seat and gesturing a large circle in the air. Sam shakes his head, and Castiel voices his opinion.
"Definitely not. Lucifer has a certain bravado they aren't reporting." That's one way to describe it.
"Well, we still have a teenage girl who can kill with her mind. What's the game plan?" Dean asks. Sam's got an idea.
"We could try talking to her?" He shrugs, wondering how Dean will react. Dean raises his brow, incensed.
"Talk to her? Sam, she's killing people. We kill the thing that's killing people." Dean is whispering, but Sam knows he'd be yelling if the girl's parents weren't in the next room.
"We don't know how and we don't know why. Hell, for all we know her parents are nuts and there's something else going on. We don't kill without having all the facts, Dean." Sam isn't willing to budge on this, and he pulls out The Look™. Dean rolls his eyes, mulling it over. Sam is right, and Dean knows it.
"Alright. Sam and I will go talk to Carrie, Cas you stay here with her folks." They all walk out into the kitchen, where they are met by Abraham, Gail, and a young man. Gail wastes no time with introductions.
"This is our son, Elijah. We were just telling him that you were here to help with Magda." Elijah is very timid as he shakes their hands. He mumbles a hello, his eyes never leaving the ground.
"Yes, well in order to do that we have to meet Magda. But I'd also like to ask Elijah here a few questions, if you don't mind." Gail looks taken aback, but Elijah nods his head. Sam looks at Dean, This isn't the plan. "Mrs. Peterson, would you mind introducing Magda and Sam?" Sam's eyes widen, incredulously. You're sending me to meet this girl alone? What if she is Lucifer? Dean gives Sam a reassuring nod. I can do this. he realizes
"I'm not sure that's wise, she's dangerous." Gail's tone is measured, hardly hiding her panic. She holds her hands in front of her as though she's trying to calm a stampeding bull.
"Sammy's a big boy, and he's gone toe-to-toe with the devil a couple of times. There's nothing he can't handle. He'll be fine." Dean holds eye contact with her, but quickly flits it over to Sam at the end making it clear he wasn't really talking to Gail. Gail seems to accept Dean's assurance, and waves her hand for Sam to follow as she heads towards the basement.
"Elijah, can we talk in the living room?" Dean starts in that direction, expecting the kid to follow him. Instead, Abraham asserts himself between Dean and the doorway.
"I need him to help me chop wood. He can't answer your questions." Dean pauses, This guy thinks his kid is the devil and wants his other kid to chop wood instead of fixing it? I definitely need to talk to this kid and figure out what they're hiding.
"Castiel can help you chop wood. Right, Cas?" There's a staredown between Dean and Abraham, again. Cas nods his head, but it goes unnoticed by both men.
"An angel chopping wood? That hardly makes sense when my boy is capable of it." There's a threatening lightheartedness to it, a trick Dean is all too familiar with. But Dean doesn't exactly have the time or energy to keep this up, so...
"Sir, if you want to cut the shit, we can but I promise you: You don't want that. Castiel is a great guy but will not hesitate if you stand in our way. We are trying to help you, but if it comes down to killing you or letting Lucifer run amok, that's no choice at all." His voice is hard, speaking with finality. Abraham walks away, heading for the front door. "Keep an eye on him." Dean orders Cas, who obliges without a word. Dean sits at the table, and gestures for Elijah to sit as well. He does, keeping his hands in his lap.
"So Elijah, what's been going on? What's it like to be a Peterson?" Dean begins, hoping he seems relaxed.
"The only thing we love more than each other is God. We like to be away from sin, what's wrong with that?" The kid's delivery is unnatural, like it's been rehearsed. Dean knows what lying about your home life looks like.
"Kid, I'm not from social services. I'm not here to split up your family, I'm here to find out whats going on with your sister. Your old man said Magda killed a CPS lady, but I'm wondering why CPS was even here." Gail rushes up the stairs and out the front door, Elijah rises to follow her but Dean stops him. "Let my associates worry about that, you look at me, man." Elijah sits back down, Dean notices his hands and wrists are covered in thin scars. It looks like he pissed off the wrong nun in religion class. Elijah sees where Dean's eyes have landed and quickly tucks his hands under the table. "Why was CPS here, Elijah?" he repeats, more stern this time.
"We're homeschooled. They do that when you homeschool." Dean leans forward to catch Elijah's eye.
"Don't lie to me, kid. Your sister can kill people with her mind, this conversation ain't about homeschooling curriculum." Dean studies Elijah's expression. He's gnawing on his lip, eyes darting to the door. Dean has gone off whatever script Elijah is following.
"My parents are very strict in their teachings. Magda has always been... rebellious. Back when we were still in school, Magda let something slip that she shouldn't have and a teacher made a call. They pulled us out, and now every so often someone comes by to check in on me, make sure I'm learning and I'm not getting beat." The singular pronoun throws Dean off, he raises a brow.
"Just you?" Elijah snaps up at that, his panic revealing he had made a mistake. It reminds Dean a bit of his own brush with CPS. He'd been in 5th grade, Sammy in 1st. Sam's class was supposed to journal every day as a writing assignment. Sam's had mentioned that they lived in a motel, that his older brother had resorted to stealing in order to feed them, and that his single dad would leave for weeks at a time. He wrote about how he looked up to his big brother, and he was grateful but he wished Dean didn't have to steal. He wrote that he wanted to know where his dad went because he knew Dean was scared he'd get hurt. Sam hadn't meant it to cause problems, he didn't realize why that was so big a deal. But Dean had been pulled into an interview where he had to reassure the lady that Sam's essay was misinterpreted. Dean had told a story about his dad killing a werewolf that had broken into his hotel room. Looking back, the interviewer probably didn't think much of it until Dean realized his mistake and started to panic. That's when she brought up the subject of a case worker coming by their hotel. Dean had cried, not wanting to be separated from Sam. Before that case worker could get to them, they'd already packed all their worldly possessions and hit the road, long before John's job was done. Sam got a long lecture about lying to protect the family, and Dean figures that's what this boy thinks he's doing right now.
"Me and Magda, both of us. I just don't sit in on her interviews." His voice has gone up an octave. Dean wants to press this issue, but knows it's not the root problem. Turns out he doesn't have to press the issue, Elijah takes a deep breath and continues "Everyone thinks Magda is dead. The case workers don't know she's in the basement. A few years ago, Magda asked our mom for a cellphone. Mom said it was a portal to hell, and that the internet is full of sin" She has a point there. "Magda said Mom should trust her, but Mom kept calling her the devil and a sinner. Suddenly, Magda went quiet and mom jerked the car into a ditch. I broke my arm, Magda and mom almost died. Mom spent a while in the mental hospital because she kept insisting that Magda had crashed the car with her mind. They thought Mom had tried to kill all three of us. Dad put out an obituary for Magda, said he cremated her, and everyone just sort of bought it. Since then, my parents have been trying to beat the devil out of her." Elijah had started crying, he wipes a tear from his face "I love my sister, but they keep saying she's the devil." A few years? Definitely not Lucifer.
"Elijah, your sister is not the devil." Dean speaks with authority here, and he hopes that is enough to convince him.
"I know," Elijah whispers, the first time he's said it out loud. "My sister is good. I just can't go against my parents." Dean knows how that feels. How often did Dean take his dad's side when Sam was obviously in the right?
"It sounds like she's a psychic." Dean answers honestly. "There are a lot of psychics, like my brother. My brother's not dangerous, but his powers were. People who didn't know him like I do tried to kill him, because they were afraid. People kept telling him he was a monster, and he started believing it. My dad's last words to me were "You have to save your brother. If you can't do that, you gotta kill him." I don't scare easy, but that scared the shit out of me. You can guess how things went by the fact that Sammy's still standing. But now, you have the same choice in front of you. Are you gonna save her or ki-"
"Yes. Save her. Whatever you need to get her away from this place, say the word." Didn't even hesitate, wow.
"Tell me about the CPS lady." Dean's voice is level, back to business.
"Magda wasn't trying to hurt her, she was just trying to show her what my parents do to her."
The door to the basement is fortified, three separate padlocks and a barricade lock.
"Magda is likely to be in a state. The devil's grip on her is firm but we are doing our best to break it. Don't fall for her deciet," Gail warns before unlocking the entire apparatus and holding the door open for Sam.
"Don't worry, I'm familiar with Lucifer's lies." Sam isn't sure when would be the right time to tell her that her daughter isn't the devil, but when he gets to the bottom of the stairs he realizes the right answer is probably "a long damn time ago," There's an alter with a large cross, with a girl kneeling in front of it. She is halfway through a demonic exorcism, pausing every line to crack a whip across her back. She looks emaciated, and covered in scars. "Magda?" Sam asks, moving towards her. Gail grabs his arm to stop him.
"Don't interupt her, this is how we will get the devil out of her." Sam pulls his arm free, this woman has absolutely no clue what she's doing. Sam wants to berate her, but instead chooses to focus on the facts.
"It absolutely would not get the devil out of her. The whip wouldn't even touch him, and that's a demonic exorcism. Lucifer is an angel." He tries to disguise his anger, but does a poor job of it. Gail is taken aback by the sudden change in tone. He walks over to the young girl (who hasn't acknowledged his presence) and gingerly takes the whip from her hand, tossing it aside. He sits in front of her, his legs crossed. "Magda? My name is Sam, I'm here to help you."
"Magda doesn't exist. I'm the devil" The girl says flatly. She's almost looking through Sam, not really participating in the world.
"No, trust me, you're not the devil." Sam's assertion gets a reaction out of Gail.
"Yes, she is! Show him what you can do." Sam is about to tell Gail to leave the room when he notices the cross from the alter floating above his head and landing at Gail's feet.
"She's just psychic," Sam whispers, realizing it. "She's just psychic!" He repeats, louder to Gail. "Lady, I know God and I know the devil. You're acting a lot more like the devil." Sam rises to his feet, marching right up to her. Gail rushes up the stairs, Sam doesn't give chase until he realizes she's locked the door. He still tries it out of sheer "what if?" but returns to sitting across from Magda, who has resumed her chanting and is rocking back and forth. "Magda? Hey, can you hear me?" Her chanting gets faster, more urgent. Sam, out of a lack of other ideas, takes her hand and squeezes it. "Magda can you squeeze back?" To Sam's genuine surprise, she does. She squeezes hard, like her life depends on her ability to break Sam's fingers. Sam doesn't react, clearly there's something intense going on in her head and she hasn't broken any bones yet. She finally comes to the end of the exorcism and lets go of Sam's hand, out of breath. She wraps her arms around Sam for a hug, Sam returns it taking care not to touch her wounds. "You're not the devil, Magda." he whispers after a moment, she breaks the hug, looking at the ground.
"I'm not human," She says, her voice still flat and uninvolved.
"You're psychic. Having powers doesn't make you evil, it's what you do with them that matters." Magda shakes her head and grabs for the whip. That was the wrong thing to say. Sam takes it from her once again before she can use it. "Stop it. This-" He holds it up "isn't going to help you." He pulls out his knife and cuts the leather from the handle, chucking the whole mess to the side.
"Mom said I killed someone. I wasn't trying to. I thought... maybe she could help me. I was trying to show her where I was, but something went wrong. Evil people kill,"
"That doesn't sound evil, that sounds desperate. There are others like you, like me." That gets her attention, she finally makes eye contact with Sam. "And we're all just people trying to do the right thing. I know how it feels to be scared of who you are, to feel like a monster. Without my brother, I might've become one. I'm sorry your family pushed you closer to that darkness, but my brother and I are gonna get you out of it." She nods her head, clearly still trying to wrap her mind around everything that's happened. "Do you have a first aid kit down here?" She lifts a shaky hand and points towards a bathroom Sam hadn't noticed before. He collects it and sits down behind her, moving her torn shirt out of the way to clean and dress the wounds.
"My brother usually does this for me. He likes to tell jokes while he does it. Stupid jokes." She says, her eyes downcast. Sam smiles at that, a thousand childhood memories being pushed to the surface.
"Mine did the same thing. He'd always do the part that hurt right on the punchline. When I was really little, I thought the cereal company stole jokes from him. This might sting." He pours rubbing alcohol across her back, she doesn't react at all.
"He's afraid of me." She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I used to think my brother was scared of me too. Turns out, he was scared for me. Scared of what my powers were doing to me." Best to leave the demon blood out of this particular conversation."But he never doubted that I was good. I was terrified that I'd turn into a monster, but every time I brought it up he acted like I told him I'd seen bigfoot. Like it was ridiculous and impossible." He pauses at one particular lash on her shoulder that is refusing to stop bleeding. "Magda, I'm sorry, this one is gonna need stitches." She nods her head, giving him consent to continue. "My brother had everyone screaming at him, telling him I was evil." he threads the needle, the low light making it more difficult than it needed to be. "I'm sure it was tough for him to keep faith, especially when I started trusting the wrong people. But every time I broke bad, he was there." A pause and a small smile. "Knock knock?" No response "Come on, kiddo, knock knock."
"Who's there?" Sam begins to stitch up her shoulder, she doesn't flinch. She's got a high pain tolerence, how long has this been her life?
"Thermos"
"Thermos who?"
"'Thermos' be a better punchline than this!" Sam delivers it in an exaggerated, cartoony voice. This gets a smile out of Magda, it's small but it is progress. Sam cycles through about a dozen knock knock jokes over sixteen stitches, and it does seem to lighten the mood somewhat. Magda's voice has taken on some life, she's still exhausted but she's more alert to her surroundings. "Let's get to work on a way out of here," Sam suggests, rising to his feet. Magda hesitates. She worries her lip, clearly wanting to say something but feeling unsure.
"What's is it?" Sam asks, wanting to provide any comfort or answers he can.
"I don't... I don't remember leaving this room. I'm scared." She admits. Sam can relate all too well. Spending almost two centuries in the cage, he had forgotten who he was. He had forgotten what it was like to live. How the sun felt, how Bobby smelled, Dean's laugh, the taste of beer, what kind of music he liked. None of that mattered down there. All that existed to him were the walls around him and Lucifer's wrath. Once Castiel took his wall down, he was left completely confused about what was real and who he was. He had been up and walking around on Earth at the same time he was losing himself. Even to this day, he is still suddenly remembering things about life and who he was that had been forgotten over the decades. A photo he doesn't remember taking, a story Dean has to tell him about himself, a food he doesn't remember if he liked or didn't like. Dean doesn't even know the full extent of the damage to his personhood. Sam thinks back to his first trip to the store after the wall came down. He bought cake for Dean (Dean had said pie, but Sam was scrambled and got confused anyway. He played it off well, though) and a dozen different kinds of soap. Sam couldn't remember what kind of soap he liked, even though he had been using it the week before. Sam tried each soap, one after another, trying to figure out what he liked. The insignificant details matter so much more when they've been taken away. He found one that reminded him of his dad and decided it was probably that one, but he can never be completely sure if he liked it before the cage too. Magda has spent so long being told she's the devil, she probably has no idea who she is anymore. Sam kneels in front of her again, this is an eye-contact kind of situation.
"I know it's scary, but you can't stay here. There's a whole world out there, and yeah it'll probably be overwhelming at first but you deserve to find your place in it. Who is Magda outside of this room? You deserve to find out." He pauses, knowing this is gonna sound ridiculous. "What kind of soap do you like?" She just stares at him with a puzzled expression, so he continues. "I spent a really really long time locked away with Lucifer. Actually, that's how I know you're not him. I was with him so long, when I finally got out I didn't remember who I used to be. What I liked and didn't like didn't matter when I was with him. I bought a bunch of soap because I couldn't remember which one I liked. My brother thought I was going crazy, and I was but it was important to me that I got it right. Do you have a favorite soap?" Magda shakes her head. "A favorite food?"
"I don't know." She whispers, and bows her head ashamed. Sam's heart is shattering into pieces. This whole situation is so fucked up.
"We can find out, as soon as we get out of this room."
Elijah and Dean have been conspiring ways to get Magda out of the house without bloodshed when they are interupted by Abraham, Gail, and Cas bursting into the house. Cas is following behind them, glancing apologetically at Dean. Abraham is carrying a revolver, Gail is carrying on.
"-a tragedy! She's pulled a servant of heaven under her spell! This has gone on far too long. Abraham, go take care of it." Dean is on his feet in a heartbeat, and suddenly there's a train headed for the basement. Dean is yelling out for the couple to stop but they are disregarding him entirely. Once the door is open, everyone starts climbing over each other to get there first. Abraham wins out, followed quickly by the rest. He has his gun pointed square at Magda, but Sam steps in between them with his hands raised in surrender.
"Abraham, put the gun down. You don't understand what's going on here." Sam is trying to talk Abraham down, urgency lining every word. Dean really doesn't want to kill a human today if he can avoid it, but looking at this girl makes his trigger finger itch. She looks like a beaten puppy, her eyes weary and her body bloody. Abraham's gun is now pointed more on Sam than Magda, which makes Dean uneasy enough to pull his own gun and aim it at Abraham's head.
"I wouldn't do that, Abe. Angel beats gun. You really want to go against an angel?" Dean can't see Abraham's face, but the man shakes his head.
"You're no angel." He asserts.
"No, I'm a man you don't wanna try. He-" Dean nods towards Cas, though Abraham can't see it. "is the angel you don't wanna try." Abraham seems to consider it, he lowers his gun slightly in surrender before shooting Sam in his right leg. Pandemonium descends upon the basement, and several things happen at once. Sam collapses to the ground and Dean fires without thinking. Gail shrieks and Elijah cries out. Sam gives Dean a thumbs up for some reason? Gail grabs the gun Abraham was holding and aims it at Magda. Elijah charges, knocking Dean's gun out of his hand as he rushes past to dive on top of his sister. All in the span of a few seconds.
"Move, Elijah" Gail commands, but Elijah holds firm. She fires at both of her children, but the bullet diverts into the ceiling. Castiel appears behind her and places a hand on her head, preparing to smite.
"Close your eyes!" Sam shouts, covering his own with one arm and Elijah's with the other. Dean buries his face in his elbow as blinding light blankets the room. Once the dust has cleared and the smiting is done, he looks at the huddle in front of him. Cas touches Sam lightly on the forehead and heals his shattered knee, and does the same to Magda's back.
"Everyone okay?" Dean asks in the same tone he would if someone had a coughing fit. Elijah nods, dumbfounded. Magda feels her back for wounds that aren't there.
"What happened?" She asks, looking to Sam for answers.
"That was a genuine angel smiting. This is Castiel, and my brother Dean." Sam gets to his feet and offers a hand to Magda, who takes it. Dean takes the cue and helps Elijah to his feet. Elijah is making eye contact with his mother's burned out eyes. Dean pats him on the shoulder, a gesture of approval.
"You did good, kid." Elijah nods, shellshocked and confused.
"I want to go to school." He mutters, his eyes distant. Registering that, Dean realizes that these guys can't stay here. Everyone thinks Magda is dead and this would be quite the crime scene.
"Do you guys have anyone you can stay with?" Dean asks. Magda and Elijah exchange nervous glances and shake their heads in unison. Dean looks at Sam. "Jody?" He suggests. Sam gives a half shrug "Jody," he confirms.
Sam leads the pair up the stairs, as soon as they're alone Dean turns to face Cas, judging by his facial expression and shifting he's got something to say. Dean shakes his head and opens his arms, as if to say "out with it."
"Dean, I'm sorry for giving you a false lead. I was... hopeful that we could deal with Lucifer before any blood was shed." Dean nods, solemnly. He had been hoping the same thing.
"It's for the best, Cas. We still got no clue how to kill him. All we could've hoped to do was lock him down." Cas seems to relax a bit at that. Dean doesn't want to keep the devil locked up on Earth indefinitely, he'd absolutely find a way to break out eventually.
"Keeping him in the trunk of your car would be unsustainable. Still, I apologize. Lucifer being free is on my conscience and I intend to fix it." Dean gets where Cas is coming from, guilt is a part of life. But still-
"You're not doing it alone, Cas. Sam and I, we've got your back." At the risk of this conversation resembling a soap opera, Dean quickly straightens his posture and raises his volume to signal that he's done with this. "Besides, we just saved a couple of kids. If your 'false leads' end up like this, keep 'em coming." Cas nods and turns his attention to cleaning up the basement. Dean takes out his phone to call Jody. She picks up on the third ring.
"Dean? How's it going?" There's something clanging in the background, probably dishes.
"It's going, Jody. How are Alex and Claire?" Dean loathes small talk, but small talk usually relaxes Jody and shows her that nobody is actively dying.
"Claire is out hunting with a friend of hers, I can only hope she's being smart about it. Alex is going to be the death of me, I have to bribe her to stop studying and get some sleep. What's up?"
"Listen, I got a huge favor to ask. Would you happen to have enough room for two more wayward teenagers? A boy and a girl, the girl's psychic and her parents weren't cool about it. They've got religious baggage flowing through their veins at this point. Their folks are dead, and we just don't feel comfortable letting them go off on their own. I'm sure if we didn't have Lucifer over our heads, Sam would want to bring them home with us. I know it's a lot to ask, but is it possible?" Silence. "Jody?" Dean asks, making sure the line was still connected.
"Ah, what the hell. I'm already running a foster home for the supernaturally traumatized. How soon will you be here?"
"We're in Iowa, so probably late in the evening. Thank you, Jody, you're a blessing."
"See you when I see you, Dean"
Magda marvels at the living room, walking slowly. She's touching things, seemingly at random. The wall, the couch, the fireplace. Sam doesn't want to interupt whatever is going through her head. He turns to Elijah, who is also watching her intently.
"Elijah? Why don't you go pack your bags. Bring everything you want or need."
"Where are we going?" He asks. "Somewhere normal?" Sam smiles, understanding that particular desire.
"As close to normal as you can get. We have a friend, she's wise to this kind of stuff and can't turn down an opportunity to get maternal. She lives in a regular house, works a regular day job, and she'll get you in school." Elijah nods, satisfied with that answer and heads off to get packed. Sam turns to Magda, speaking to her back "You too, pack your things." She slowly turns around to face him.
"I don't have any things." She picks up a small ceramic angel figurine. It has a round face, pale skin with long dark hair, a flowing robe, and an impressive wingspan. She stares at it, and slowly cracks start appearing on the lower half of the angel's hair. The bottom breaks off, giving the figurine a spiky haircut. The hole closes as soon as it appears. The robe begins to glow red as it melts and hugs closer to the body, two spots around the angel's neck glow a little brighter than the rest as it raises up to form a collar. Several small dots appear in two straight lines going down it. Sam smiles as he realizes what she's doing. Magda's eye starts to twitch as the angel's face warps to become more square, with a slight stubble. She gasps, out of breath as she completes her masterpiece. In her hand, she holds a perfect statue of Cas. "I might try painting." She muses after catching her breath.
"That's awesome." Sam states, pointing at her handiwork. "You are capable of beautiful things, Magda." She gives him a soft smile and they share a comfortable silence, broken when Elijah comes into the room. "That was fast, kid, you sure you got everything?"
"Oh, no. I just thought Magda would want these." He holds a clean outfit to his sister, who takes it and goes to change while Elijah finishes packing.
"Hey, Jody, we're pulling in now." Sam says into the phone. He sees Jody standing on her porch and hangs up. As the car comes to a stop, he looks in the rearview mirror at Magda. One hand is still clutching the figurine (Dean had been very impressed with it but she refused to let him hold it), the other holding her brother's hand. She's gnawing on her lip and staring out the window.
They'd had to stop a few times for one or both kids to get carsick. Dean nearly had a panic attack at the mere mention of puke in his car and insisted on a stop for dramamine, Elijah carefully guiding his sister into the store. "Get anything you want," Sam had said. Elijah asked for a banana, but Magda perused the aisles examining every single product in the store. Dean had started getting impatient, but Sam stayed firm in letting her look. She found a cannister of mini M&Ms, and opened it peering in at all the colors inside. This got the clerk's attention, he had been staring at the girl who's been acting high since they walked in. He yelled at Sam to stop his daughter from opening merchandise, and that was the crew's cue to pay and get out. As soon as they were out, Dean explained to Magda that you're supposed to pay before you open stuff.
Jody makes her way to the car, greeting each brother with a hug. Dean gets Elijah's luggage from the trunk as Sam does introductions.
"Come on in, I've got a pot roast and a room ready." She leads the whole gang inside. Alex is sitting on the couch with a textbook and a highlighter. "That's Alex, she's in nursing school. Claire blows through here when she's not working, but she's out right now." Jody gives the teens a tour while Sam and Dean sit with Alex.
"You guys still saving the world?" She asks, not looking up from her book.
"On the rare occasion we're not breaking it." Dean admits sheepishly. Somehow, by the time Jody returns to them Sam has started quizzing Alex on medical terminology. She's wicked smart and driven. Sam wonders who she would've been if she had grown up in a normal situation. He knows that's a pointless question, and it's one he's been pondering about himself since he was old enough to have coherent thoughts, but it still hangs in his head.
"They seemed pretty beat, she's showering and he's heading to bed. So, guys, what's the story?" Dean recounts every detail, embellishing it only slightly when it came to his own bad assery with Sam correcting him as need be. Jody is floored and Alex has put her book away and pulled out a psychology book.
"We're gonna need this," she says, handing the book to Jody. Jody cracks a smile.
"Yeah, we're gonna need that, a whole wardrobe for her, falsified documents, a GED tutor, and a lot of patience. I'm about to start filling your therapist's schedule up single-handedly." Jody does take the book though. She turns to Sam "Do you know how impossible it is to find a therapist that knows about all this supernatural stuff?" Sam laughs at that.
"Look out for a paint delivery, by the way." All eyes turn to Sam. "Magda, she said she wanted to paint that little Cas statue. I'm gonna send some your way once we get home. And Jody, thank you for everything." He holds out his hand for her to shake, but she pulls him in for another hug. Dean gets one too as they depart. Once they're in the car, Dean turns to Sam.
"Well, that one was... emotionally charged." Tell me about it. "You good?" Sam nods, more exhausted than anything else. Sure, there wasn't a ton of physical labor, but he had spent most of the morning panicked and the entire afternoon angry. He's glad this one had a mostly happy ending, but still. He's going to worry about those kids for the rest of his life. "We'll find him, Sam. He's not capable of staying hidden, he'll screw up eventually."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Dean. We'll only find him when the bodies start piling up. And every single kill is on us." Sam is looking out the window, too ashamed to meet Dean's eye.
"Oh, come on, man. Not you too." Dean rolls his eyes, disappointed. Sam whips his head around, confused. "You and Cas both think you're to blame for whatever bullshit he does. No, that crap is on Lucifer. Hell, put it on God I don't care. Just keep it off your shoulders. I agree, we gotta stop him. But his kills don't count as your kills. That's... cheating" Sam goes to argue, but Dean turns the music on.
Notes:
Hope you liked it, I had to completely rewrite it when my internet decided to break. I think I liked it better the first time, but here we are.
Chapter 3
Summary:
The crew decides to have a strategy meeting about the best way to deal with Lucifer. Some ideas are more popular than others.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean wakes up when a gunshot rings out in the bunker. He's on his feet with his gun before the echoing stops. His brain is playing through a list of worst-case scenarios as he books it towards Sam's room, meeting his mom in the hallway.
"You okay?" He asks. She nods her head and joins him in running towards Sam's room. They can hear him screaming, calling out for Dean. "Sammy!" Dean yells in response, petrified of whatever his brother is fighting. Another shot fires off as they get to his door and open it, not sure what they'll find. Sam is alone in his room, on his feet, his eyes open and wild. Dean isn't sure if he's worried or relieved to see there's no real threat in the room. Sam fires at the floor, again screaming for Dean. He aims the gun at Mary, but his gaze is unfocused. He's asleep. Dean places his gun on the dresser, they need to get weapons out of this equation. "Sammy, you're home." Sam doesn't seem to register his brother's words.
"Leave me alone," Sam half-mumbles through his sleep, gun still pointed at Mary. Dean flinches, horrified by whatever Sam is reliving. He knows Sam won't want to talk about this in the morning, he never does, but it doesn't stop Dean from wanting to ask. Any and all details he knows about what Sam has been through come from moments like this, where Sam gets stuck in a memory. The unspoken agreement to let some thing remain unspoken goes both ways, though it doesn't stop either of them from wondering.
"Mom, move. He doesn't know you're there." Dean orders, Mary takes a few steps to the left. Dean slowly approaches Sam, and tries to take the gun from him. Sam snaps into fighting mode and shoves Dean away.
Sam cries out, an agonized and heartbreaking sound. Dean tackles his brother, taking him to the ground, desperate to keep him from killing someone or hurting himself. As they wrestle over the gun, their mom swoops in and wrenches it out of Sam's grip as Dean holds his arm down. She carries both guns out of the room, not wanting Sam to get his hands on either of them. Sam continues fighting Dean, sobbing as he punches him in the throat. Dean pins his arms by his head, struggling to keep them in place. It absolutely kills Dean to restrain his brother. He knows that being restrained tends to make all of this worse. Sam's legs kick the ground in a weird approximation of running. Dean shushes his brother, he feels completely helpless. He knows all he can do is wait this out and try to stop Sam from hurting himself in the process. That was getting harder and harder every night, last week Dean had ended up with a black eye and Sam a cracked rib. Sam's mental health had been tanking for months, Lucifer being freed really screwed with his head. But he had held firm, for the most part. At the very least, he got four hours most nights. But ever since the boat, none of the Winchesters have been getting much sleep. Sam's right arm breaks loose and begins flailing around. Sam isn't trying to hit anything in particular, it's more like he's struggling against invisible bindings than actually attempting combat. Still, Dean grabs it again and holds it down.
"Dean! Help!" Sam screams.
"I'm trying" Dean says under his breath. "Sammy, you're home. In the bunker. Whatever you're fighting, it ain't there. Wake up!" Dean's voice is as gentle as he can manage with his current level of panic. Sam lets out another pained scream. Mary returns to the room and kneels behind Sam, brushing his hair from his face and humming "Hey Jude" Memories of an ordinary childhood enter Dean's mind, unbidden. Sitting in a rocking chair with his mom as she sang to him while he tried to wriggle away, insisting he's not tired. She'd pick him up and place him in his bed, but continue singing. Despite all his protests, he'd fall asleep before the end of the song. Dean also remembers singing it to Sam when he was really little, it was the only "lullaby" he knew. It worked pretty well then, he can only hope it does the same now. Eventually, the fight fades from Sam. He blinks as he comes to, still groggy. Dean breathes a sigh of relief, he was getting pretty tired himself.
"Dean? Wha-?" He mumbles, looking around. Dean gets himself to his feet, and holds an arm out to bring Sam up with him. "What time is it?"
"3:30." Mary answers, rising to her feet. She rubs small circles into Sam's back, comforting him as he rubs sleep from his eyes. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just... nightmare. Sorry for waking you guys up again." Sam sits on his bed, exhausted. Dean sits next to him, he knows bringing a gun to the party warrants a conversation. Doesn't mean he wants to have it, but they need to be sure this won't happen again.
"It's alright, Sammy. But we're gonna have to talk about this one." Sam's attention snaps to Dean, confused. Dean is usually from the ignoring trauma school of thought, so the break from tradition means business. He keeps his voice calm, this isn't an accusation. "You grabbed a gun and started firing at nothing, man. You aimed it at Mom. I'm not angry, but that ain't kosher." He pauses to ensure he still has Sam's attention, Sam is looking at his mom apologetically. She nods her head in acceptance, like Dean she's just concerned for him. "This is getting dangerous. Tomorrow, I'm getting Jody's therapist's number and we're gonna give them a call." Sam chuckles, and Dean has to admit it is a ridiculous string of words for him to say. But Sam almost shot their mother tonight because of his trauma, and in Dean's book that didn't count as having things under control. Sam licks his lips and looks at the ceiling, for a moment Dean thinks Sam might be angry. But he returns his gaze to Dean and softly replies.
"I'll start leaving my gun in my dresser, but Dean... There is no amount of therapy..." That can fix me Dean's brain finishes Sam's sentence for him. Sam looks at him ruefully, like he really wishes therapy was an option. Dean doesn't really have a rebuttel for that, he knows therapy wouldn't touch his own experiences either. But it's not like they have many options here. "I'll get better once Lucifer is off the board." Sam speaks with confidence, like the cure for what ails him truly is Lucifer's death. Dean doesn't want to fight Sam on this tonight, truth be told he's tired as well, but killing Lucifer could take a while and Sam is suffering now.
"Goodnight, Sam." Dean says as he leaves the room. He's still going to call Jody tomorrow, but tonight they just need rest.
Sam gets a text from an number not in his contacts. I found one I like with an image of a sugar-scented body wash attached. Sam grins from ear to ear, it's good to hear she's doing well. That's great, Magda. Jody told me you were getting your GED. Be proud of that. Sam is sitting in the kitchen with his laptop open while Dean makes breakfast. They're all beat, the day before a hunter's funeral had ended in a hunt. And then last night happened... Another message comes through. I am, actually. Also proud of this. An image of the statue, this time painted to a perfect recreation of Cas. It's beautiful, she's got a real talent for painting. Thanks for the paint, by the way. I like painting, it's fun and focusy. Sam is genuinely excited as he types his response. It's awesome, kid. You got every detail right. And no problem, absolutely worth every penny to see that.
"What're you smiling at?" Dean calls to Sam.
"Magda texted me. It's nice to get some good news every once in a while." He shows Dean his phone, the picture of her art project displayed. Dean walks closer to look at it, and cackles.
"That's really awesome. Reminds me of action figure Cas. You remember that?" Dean says, returning to the stove. Sam nods his head, a bizarre memory to be sure. But their lives were always bizarre, and an angel turning into a toy would be a fun story to tell at parties (if they ever went to one). Sam saves the number to his contacts with a smile.
Their mom walks into the kitchen, already dressed for the day. They all exchange a "good morning." Mary walks directly to Dean, which doesn't go unnoticed by Sam. He tells himself that it's just because she knew Dean longer before, that as time passes she will get more comfortable around Sam. That doesn't stop the pang of envy, but he hopes it's enough to prevent resentment from building. Mary hugs Dean and Sam redirects his attention back to his laptop and searching for anything that even vaguely resembled an archangel. She sits at the table across from Sam. She takes his hand, and he meets her eyes.
"You get any more sleep last night?" She asks, Sam cringes thinking about it. Nightmares had always been somewhat normal for both brothers, but Sam's were getting noticeably worse. Visions of Lucifer dance in his head whenever he falls asleep. He nods his head, a lie that she pretends not to pick up on. "We'll find him." She says with conviction that Sam wishes he shared.
"Finding him and killing him are two separate things, Mom. Even the Colt didn't do it." He's being pessimisstic, but he thinks he's entitled to it after all he's done.
"According to your journals, they can die." Sam's eyes widen in realization. It's what Kali had said when she thought she killed Gabriel years ago with his archangel blade. Lucifer later killed him with one. Sam slams his laptop shut in excitement.
"Of course! Dean, we're idiots." Dean puts down the spatula and walks over to the kitchen table, confused by Sam's sudden epiphany. Sam speaks quickly and urgently. They have a way to kill the devil, and Sam wants to jump on it ASAP. "Remember Gabriel? We gotta track down an archangel blade."
"Oh, sure, we'll get one from the Wal-Mart in town." Dean says in his native sarcasm. "Any idea how to find one?" Sam is undeterred by Dean's skepticism. It's a spot of hope Sam desperately needed. It's a plan.
"A collector, maybe?" Mary suggests. "Two dead archangels means there are two blades laying around." There's a moment of silence as they consider. They don't know where Raphael's or Gabriel's blades are. Sam knows where they can find one, but he knows it won't be a very popular suggestion. He can handle being unpopular if it means killing Lucifer, he's had crazier plans before.
"I know Michael still has his." Sam looks for Dean's reaction. Dean rolls his eyes and begins pacing like he always does when Sam says something insane.
"Dammit, Sam, no." He growls. It's not like Sam wants to bring up the cage again, poking at it has never gone well for them. But there is someone else in this equation, someone who deserves to be considered.
"It's not just Michael down there, Dean." Sam is looking down, his tone somewhat pleading. He understood they couldn't risk letting letting Lucifer out along with Adam, but with Lucifer being free there was no reason not to at least try.
"You wanna risk Michael using his new-found freedom to make another apocalypse sequel?! No, he stays in the box." Dean goes back to cooking, trying to signal that the conversation is over. But Sam knows he's right. He stands and follows Dean, his voice rising in volume and intensity. Mary stands as well, recognizing the tension.
"We gotta at least consider it. We need the blade. And... Adam-"
"Is gone! Do I gotta remind you what happened last time we went poking around down there?!" They are standing chest-to-chest, testing each other's resolve. "And since when do you trust Michael? Do you think he's just gonna hand the blade over, free of charge?!" Mary throws an arm between them and pulls Dean (who looks ready to throw a punch) away.
"Take it down a notch, Dean." She commands, her tone level but authoritative. Dean follows her, but his fury doesn't dimish.
"What, you aren't happy with our current number of psycho archangels looking for their vessel?! I guess misery loves company, huh?" This gives Sam pause, that thought had genuinely never occured to him. It should have, if what Cas said about the perfect vessel thing is true. But looking back on his time in the cage, all the conversations between Adam and Michael. He isn't sure Dean needs to worry so much.
"Michael is not Lucifer, alright?" Sam's voice is calmer, more steady. "In the cage, he and Adam... they got along." Dean freezes, his face softening. Sam has never really spoken about anything that happened down there. "Adam talked Michael down from hurting me, okay? A lot. Michael actually listened to him. He's not beyond reason. And I can't just abandon Adam now." Dean sets his jaw, thinking. Sam looks at Dean pitifully, begging him. "Dean, please."
"We ask Cas about Raphael's blade, we kill Lucifer, then and only then will we even consider letting them out. And I want it on record that I think this is a terrible idea." Sam nods, accepting the compromise. Dean makes himself a plate and leaves the room. Sam expects his mom to follow Dean, but instead she hugs Sam.
"Sorry about all that, Mom. Nothing riles us up more than an apocalypse." He says, breaking away. He's trying to keep a light-hearted tone, but he just sounds exhausted.
"I bet. All of this is above my pay grade." She admits. "When I was growing up, hunting meant werewolves and rougarous. The biggest story people told about me was the time I took out a vamp nest alone."
"You- you did what?" Sam is taken aback, I'm not sure there are many people who could say that.
"Everything I did is child's play compared to what you two have been doing. It's really no wonder why you boys butt heads when the stakes are so high." She gently cups her hand on his cheek. Sam knows she's trying to comfort him, but his fight-or-flight response threatens to ruin the moment. He's not accustomed to affection, especially not from his mom. He has to convince himself that the other shoe will not drop, that she's not going to hurt him. He can't pinpoint exactly what it is about this situation that's freaking him out, she literally just hugged him and he was fine then. His face must betray him, because she pulls her hand away. "For the sake of the planet, Sam, take it easy."
Dean is sitting in the foyer eating and stewing. Why the hell can't Sam leave well enough alone? Why can nothing they do be simple? It's not as though Dean liked the idea of letting Adam rot in the cage, but given the choice between leaving Adam or letting the holy crusader get set loose on the world? No question. Hell, they still had no idea how exactly Crowley and Cas had gotten Sam out. Dean was scared shitless at the idea of Michael being free, and he couldn't admit his reasons were entirely selfish. He could pretend he was scared that Michael would start breaking the world, but really? What if Michael decided he wanted to upgrade his sword? Although getting their hands on an archangel blade was the best lead they had. He'd just have to find one of the others before Sam got desperate enough to go poking at the cage. His mother walks out and sits in front of him, studying his face. He doesn't look up from his plate.
"Hey, Mom." He says, breaking the silence.
"So... what was all that about?"
"A desperate Sam is a dangerous Sam. We gotta find an archangel blade before he falls off the deep end." Dean is trying to focus on business so she doesn't probe deeper.
"Dean, I think it's too late for that." This gets his attention, he finally looks at her. "He almost killed us both last night. It's getting worse, day by day." She's scared and Dean knows it. That wasn't the first time Sam had been active in his sleep, but recently it's been happening almost every night. Sam has been lucky to put together two hours a night. Dean recalls seeing Sam in that hospital bed staring at an empty chair, completely unaware anyone was in the room with him. Cas telling him there was nothing to be done, that the wall was nothing but rubble in his brother's brain. Sam's loss of hope was the scariest part of that whole ordeal, the fight was completely drained out of him. All the fire, all the passion, all the drive. Everything that made Sam who he was just gone. Lost to exhaustion. Mary waves a hand in front of his face. "You with me?"
"Yeah, just... thinking." Sam walks out into the foyer, carrying his laptop. Dean nods at him before he continues speaking. "First step to finding an archangel blade is calling our friendly neighborhood angel." He holds an imaginary radio to his face and puts on his best impression of a pilot from a war movie "Dean Winchester to Castiel. We got a possible way to take down Lucifer, requesting assistance. Over." A flap of wings and Cas is standing beside Sam, who jumps slightly in surprise.
"Hello... over." Cas says, slightly confused and looking to Dean for confirmation that he said the right thing.
"Cas, we were thinking about how Gabriel died. Lucifer stabbed him with an archangel blade, right?" Sam explains, Cas nods. "What if we did the same to him?"
"He would die. Of course, the issue would be getting it from Michael." Cas speaks as though Michael's blade is the most obvious choice rather than the most insane. Dean picks up on it and pushes.
"Michael? What about Raphael and Gabe?" Can we please stop fucking talking about Michael?
"Raphael's blade is not an option. I took it to Heaven and melted it down before his followers as a show of force." Cas' eyes dart everywhere and anywhere to avoid making eye contact. Dean knows Cas still feels ashamed of his ego trip and the resulting food chain crisis. It would be too simple if Cas could just give us the blade, of course he had to detroy it.
"Okay, so we're onto Gabriel's blade." Dean says, accepting Cas' explanation without delving into blame. "Any chance Heaven knows where it is?" Cas shakes his head ruefully.
"No. Both Gabriel's body and his blade disappeared shortly after his death. There was an investigation at the time but nothing was found. They are presumed destroyed."
"Presumed? So it might still be out there?" Sam asks. For the sake of Dean's sanity, it had better be. Cas thinks for a moment before answering.
"Earth is big, but not so big that Heaven was unable to search the entire planet for it. We all wanted it found, but eventually had to concede that it was gone." Dammit.
"Maybe it's not on Earth? Lucifer was running Hell at the time, maybe it's down there?" Sam offers with a shrug. Dean pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts for Crowley. "Calling Crowley?" Dean nods as he hits the call button.
"Dean, I was just going to call you." Dean rolls his eyes and puts the phone on speaker.
"Crowley, we need your help with a weapon to kill Lucifer."
"Straight to business, then. If I knew what would kill the bastard, I'd give it to you gratis. Sadly, my one and only plan led to my attempted murder by moose attack so you're out of luck there." Mary stifles a laugh, yeah that only really makes sense in context, and Sam speaks up.
"Is there an archangel blade in Hell?" Sam's tone is curt, not wanting to waste time.
"What, just laying around?!" Crowley says incredulously. "I'd have an easier time parting the Red Sea with a spoon than getting my hands on one of those. Now, onto my contribution. My mother let slip that Lucifer is wearing an old rock musician." Sam quickly sits and opens his laptop. "She never said who before her well-earned death, but a lead's a lead." This gets everyone's attention.
"Back up, how did Rowena know that?" Dean asks. He knows better than to take Crowley at face value, but this would be a weird way to mislead them.
"And when did she die?" Sam adds.
"She'd been working with him, the moronic cow. A smarter woman would be holding a grudge from the last time he killed her. She died a few weeks ago, I showed up to her house and was greeted by a spent roman candle." Dean peeks at what Sam is doing. He's currently looking through recent news articles about The Rolling Stones.
"So we can't go talk to Michael, either." Sam sounds disappointed, but Dean has to hide his relief.
"Why not?" Mary asks.
"She's the one who did the spell to get us a holding cell. A way to talk to Lucifer without letting him out." Sam answers.
"If you still have her notes, I could take a crack at it." Confused silence, something Crowley can't let stand.
"Based on the lack of reply, I'm going to assume whoever just volunteered is wildly unquali-"
"Crowley, we're gonna have to call you back." Dean says, hanging up. "Mom, you do magic?" Mary nods her head. Well, I'll be damned. My mom is awesome.
"Magic makes hunting a lot easier. I'm good at it, too." Dean looks to Sam, trying to gauge his reaction to his mother's confession, but Sam is stuck on his computer. He notices something and readjusts his posture.
"Huh. So get this, Vince Vincente's paralyzed sister is walking around. She's saying miracle, press is saying scam. But I say-"
"Lucifer." Dean finishes. Sam nods and everyone gathers behind him, looking at his screen.
Dean mumblereads the article behind Sam's back, it's a tabloid site. It includes a quote from Vince, who asks for privacy regarding his siter's medical situation. The article makes it out that she was never actually disabled, and was caught on accident. They make a compelling case, and honestly Sam might've believed it on any other day. There's nothing in the article that jumps out at Sam screaming "Lucifer"
"Man, I liked him." Mary complains.
"Yeah, me too." Sam says, trying not to wonder if this was happening because he liked him. Dean snorts, clearly not a fan. Cas is doubtful that they've found him.
"Healing a woman's paralysis is not something Lucifer does. I'm not sure this is him." They need to keep looking, be sure they've got the right guy.
Sam pulls up another article, this one slightly less recent and hailing Ladyheart (Vincente's band) returning to the stage. It all seems normal, Sam is slightly reassured until a particular answer catches his eye.
Interviewer: Is there anything you can share with the fans about your upcoming reunion album?
Vince: I can share the title. It'll be called "MFEO (Literally)"
Tommy: Vince, we haven't decided-
Vince: I decided. Just now. That was me deciding.
Interviewer: Sounds interesting, is it for a certain lady that has your heart?
Vince: Something like that. She knows who she is.
"It's him." Sam says with finality. "It's definitely him." He blinks hard, trying not to fall into a memory. Just before his swan dive, Lucifer had said those exact words to him. He could still hear them, clear as a bell, spoken with his own voice. We're two halves made whole. MFEO, literally. Sam had promised to tear Lucifer apart, and though there's been a few setbacks he is still determined to make good on that promise. He remembers ripping into the demons, the shame at his enjoyment. Sam had just thrown his life and the fate of the world away, but there he was destroying demons with Lucifer taking a ride in his skin. He had been so sure that he could throw the devil back in the pit, but instead he'd been bound in his own mind unable to do more than twitch a hand. He feels his heartrate quicken and takes a deep breath, trying to hide his anxiety. Concern is plastered on Dean's face, he doesn't want to press but he has to know.
"Sam, we can't go in guns blazing against a famous dude who hasn't killed anyone on a hunch. How do you know?" Sam highlights the album title, which Dean reads aloud. "Yeah, so what?"
"He said that while he was possessing me. What the hell is he planning, hopping inside of Vince Vincente?" He's got to be plotting something, he always is. There's no way he just decided to start a music career.
"Vince has a lot of influence, his band defined a subgenre. Lucifer probably saw a lot of potential in Vince's cult following." Mary explains. She's probably right, Sam having been a part of his fanbase since childhood.
"Lucifer does crave adoration and power, a crowd of people worshipping him would be appealing." Cas says, nodding in agreement. Sam gets a Skype call from Eileen, and answers it quickly. He signs to the best of his ability as he speaks.
"Hey, Eileen. What's up?" Dean waves at her from behind Sam.
"Wow, the whole crew was ready to go. Hi, guys. Are you still looking for a weapon against Lucifer?" If she's got an idea that doesn't involve the cage, Sam is all for it. Dean answers her first, though.
"Yeah, we are. Did you find something?" Dean sounds eager, Sam shares his relief. Rowena's death makes talking to Michael a hell of a lot harder. Sam has never seen his mom use magic, so he isn't sure he could trust her to maintain the spell.
"Have you heard of the Lance of Michael?" Eileen replies, Sam opens a new window on his laptop and googles it. "It was made by Michael for the sole purpose of killing Lucifer." Sam reads the page that comes up. It poisons the good, their deaths are slow and agonizing. The evil, on the other hand, combust when hit with it. That's definitely a weird feature to a weapon supposedly designed for Lucifer. In lore books, "good" typically refers to angels and "evil" means demons. Of course, it's not really that simple in practice, but that would mean that it would kill Lucifer slowly. Which would mean they would have to restrain him while the poison takes effect. But still, it's something that exists on Earth that could kill Lucifer.
"Why would Michael want to kill Lucifer fast if he was evil? Or slow if he was good?" Mary asks, confused. Sam shrugs, he doesn't have an answer for that, but Dean does.
"They're still family, he wouldn't want Lucifer to suffer. It wasn't Michael's idea to kill his brother, he's just following orders." Dean grits his teeth, Sam is slightly uncomfortable by how quickly Dean came to that realization. "If he stabs Lucifer and he doesn't die immediately, it means he's worth saving and Michael would have time to stop it. It would prove their father wrong. Whenever Michael made this, he must've had some doubts about his mission." Sam and Dean make awkward eye contact, recognizing the similarity to their own lives. Maybe Sam was wrong about the whole "good" meaning angel thing, maybe Michael was looking to create a morality test here. Dean quickly shifts back to planning mode. "Any chance you know where this thing is, Eileen?" She nods her head.
"I have a friend who knows of a collector named Rodney. He's a recluse, and a dangerous one. Story goes that nobody who enters his property leaves. We can't just knock on the door and ask for it. And he's got a truly insane security system, loaded with supernatural booby traps." Dean's face brightens, a childish giddiness to his smile.
"So we're doing a heist? Awesome." Sam rolls his eyes at his brother, Dean is always a bit too gung-ho about this kind of thing. They need to be very careful about this, and they have no clue what to expect.
"Any intel you can give us would be a great help, Eileen." Sam says, though he doesn't know how to sign it and ends up saying "any i-n-t-e-l help us" She smiles, and signs "information" to teach him the sign, which he repeats. He gives a thank you while she answers.
"I'm about 20 minutes outside of Lebanon, we can talk in person." She always prefers to talk in person, understandably so. Sam signs a quick See you while everyone else waves a goodbye, Eileen waves back and hangs up.
"I know a spell that protects against witchcraft. It's not total immunity, but it's better than nothing." Mary suggests immediately. "It's technically a hexbag recipe, you wear it around your neck. Chicken feet bones bathed in the blood of the person you're trying to protect, a blackthorn flower bathed in the juice of its own berries. Tie it in a leather pouch, say some magic words and you're good. It only works until sunrise the day after it's created, but hopefully that's all we need." Sam smiles, he loves learning things about his mom. This is a spell that would've saved him and Dean a lot of headache. He'd have to pick her brain later, spells were usually Sam's job.
"I'm on chicken feet, Cas you're on blackthorn, Mom head to the craft store for the leather. Sam, wait here for Eileen." Dean gives Sam a knowing wink, eliciting an eye roll from him. Any time Sam takes an interest in dating, Dean always gets weird about it. Sam is usually scared to try, his love life included so many deaths he figured he was cursed. But Eileen is a capable hunter, she wouldn't be caught off-guard the way... the way Jessica was. He and Eileen haven't discussed what exactly they were yet, but there's absolutely something there. The way she stands close to him, playfully teasing him. The way their hugs linger. Sam wanted to deny his feelings, he really did, for her safety. But Dean could always read him like a book. "You adorable casanova, you." Dean teases, in big brother mode. Mary smiles, no doubt she's enjoying seeing her sons share a "normal" brotherly moment.
Notes:
Sorry not a lot actually happens this chapter, it was going to just be the first part of the next chapter but it got too long.
Chapter 4
Summary:
The Winchesters and crew go after the Lance of Michael in preparation to go after Lucifer. Things go a bit sideways and Sam has a disquieting revelation.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam and his mother stand around the table crushing berries and dipping flowers together while Eileen studies the floorplan of Rodney's house. Sam has no idea where she got it, but it's a good thing she did. Eileen is deeply focused, her face hard and determined as she marks off traps she knows about with a purple sharpie, pointing them out to Cas standing over her shoulder. She's fidgeting, rubbing her thumb across her fingertips. He notes the hardness in her features, finding it oddly attractive. She's tough in a way Sam respects and values. But she seems vaguely... angry? His mom elbows him in the side and he realizes he's been staring. He quickly readjusts his gaze back to the task at hand, rolling his eyes at his mom's knowing smile. Dean waltzes through the front door carrying a bad of chicken feet, announcing his presence with a "Hey!" and getting three in return. Dean tosses the bag at Sam, who immediately throws it back to him. "Get to boiling and peeling," Sam instructs "We just need the bones." Dean tosses it back to his brother, determined to not do that. Sam drops it on the table and puts a fist in his palm for a game of rock paper scissors.
"Seriously?" Dean asks, Sam gives him a look that says yeah, I am. Dean obliges his brother. Sam throws rock, as usual, while Dean throws scissors, as usual. Sam tosses the bag at Dean, who mumbles something to himself as he goes to the kitchen. Mary gives a half smile at the simple kid's game.
"Easiest way to get Dean to do anything, play rock paper scissors over it." Sam explains, returning the smile.
"If only the archangels used a similar method to resolve disputes." Cas dryly muses.
"The basement door can only be opened with the blood of a powerful demon." Eileen explains "I'm not sure where we're gonna get that." Sam makes eye contact with Cas, they both know exactly where they're gonna get it.
"Leave that to us." Sam says with a small smile, "It helps to have a demon on speed dial." Dean reenters the room and sits in the chair Sam is standing behind, his posture relaxing.
"So... Eileen..." Cas taps Eileen's shoulder and points her towards Dean. "What do you know about this Rodney guy?"
"I know he's paranoid. I tried to sneak in once and he nearly killed me. Breaking in is not an option, we have to be invited in. Best idea I can think of is trying to sell him something. He likes weapons that come with a story more than anything," Weapons that come with a story? We've got those coming out our ears at this point. But any we can afford to risk?
"Cas, you still know where the first blade is?" Dean suggests, sparking a brief moment of panic in Sam at being reminded of the blade. It wasn't exactly a treasured childhood toy to the Winchesters so much as a constant source of anger and fear. The first blade is useless now, a jawbone can only be so sharp without whatever magic made it so lethal. But it sure does come with one hell of a life story. Sam has to admit, it's the right choice for the job. Cas nods his head, seeming unsure.
"Are we sure he would be interested in a useless weapon?" Cas inquires earnestly. Dean shrugs, uncharacteristically unsure.
"We can't afford to risk a useful one. Eileen says he likes stories, that blade's got a long history." Sam admits, it's not like they can risk parting with anything else. Sam knows there's every chance that they will leave with whatever they decide to sell, but just in case it's best to leave their more effective weaponry at home.
"I'll retrieve it now." Cas says, vanishing the second he's done.
"Now we gotta decide who gets the honor of being the distraction. Draw lots?" Dean suggests. Sam raises a hand to volunteer, but Eileen shakes her head.
"It can't be you or Dean. I think you two forget how well-known you are in our circles. You guys aren't sellers or collectors, you're legendary hunters." Sam's feet shuffle a bit, he's uncomfortable with his reputation. Dean grins, he's always found a weird joy in being legends. Of course, the stories they tell about Dean are a lot more favorable than the ones they tell about Sam. "He'll be suspicious if you suddenly decide to sell something. And I would really like to search the house myself."
"I could do it." His mom volunteers. "If you two are recognizable, then so is Castiel." She's right, they can trust her to get this done. She's proven herself to be a very capable hunter, so if shit hit the fan she'd be able to handle herself. Dean thinks for a moment before nodding his head sharply.
"Alright, we give him a call. Tell him you're offering the First Blade, the blade Cain used to kill Abel. Tell him you got it from an angel. Then you're gonna do a shit ton of reading and learn everything there is to know about the thing so you can keep him talking while the rest of us search his house." He looks to Eileen "Any idea where in the house it might be?" She nods her head.
"He keeps the most dangerous stuff in the basement. Some of the more decorative stuff is littered around the house." She pauses, biting her lip before continuing. "I want to look around as much of the house as possible." Why on Earth would she want to do that? She's acting a bit.. off. Similar to how she was when they first met. Like she's emotionally involved in this or something. Dean gives Sam a stern look, Sam can almost hear his voice saying talk to her. Sam nods.
"Okay, so we go to the basement." Dean starts, pretending to ignore whatever Eileen is worried about. "Mom, drop something in the doorway so it doesn't shut all the way and we can get in. A sock or something. Anything he's not likely to notice." She nods her head and gets up to go check on the boiling chicken feet. Dean looks at Sam and tilts his head towards Eileen, prompting him.
"Eileen, is there anything else you can tell us?" Sam asks, signing as he speaks. "Or... anything you're deliberately not telling us?" She worries her lip, making the answer a clear yes. She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to him. It looks like she's been carrying it around for a while, behaving more like fabric than paper. Sam reads it aloud. "Eileen, I sold it to someone named Rodney. If you want it back, his number is 555-409-4932 but he's unlikely to sell. -Bela." Sam in unable to hide the shock in his voice "Bela?" Dean sits bolt upright at that. That's not a name either of them have heard in years.
"Bela? Son of a bitch. Lemme guess, brown hair, about this tall, hot, and impossible to get a solid read on beyond 'colossal bitch'" Dean's shock is evident from the moon. Eileen nods, clearly not expecting them to know who she was.
"Eileen, she's been dead the better part of a decade. What the hell happened?" Sam asks. Not that it really makes a difference in their mission, but man it's a small world.
"Lilian was a witch, and she made something for me. A ring that was enchanted to change colors if there's something supernatural around. Black for demons, red for vampires, yellow for werewolves and so on." A supernatural mood ring? That's awesome. "She was worried I'd be caught off-guard by something. Twelve years ago, I met Bela. She stole the ring. I begged her because it's not just a piece of magic metal to me." She takes a deep breath. "She told me she'd already sold it, but she felt bad enough to tell me who had it. He has a landline and I couldn't freak out an interpreter so I couldn't call him. I found his address, tried to buy it from him but he wouldn't sell. I tried to steal it, what's another B&E to a hunter? But I barely made it out of there with my life. Now, with the world at stake and a crew? I might be able to get it back." Sam nods his head, not looking to Dean to confer on this particular topic. It's clearly very important to her, so it gets added to the game plan.
"It's okay, we'll look for it." Sam comforts her. Dean awkwardly looks everywhere but at them, searching for something to say.
"I'll go straight to the basement, we gotta make sure we get that lance. If you wanna go looking for the ring, go ahead. We won't leave without you." Sam is grateful that Dean didn't shut her down completely. He knows the lance is the first priority, and he's sure Eileen knows it too. But he hopes that this ring is easy to find. His mother returns with the bones and one by one everyone bleeds onto a bone and ties up their hex bag.
"I won't say the spell until we're there, like I said there's a limit to how long they last. Let's give this guy a call and see if he's interested in the first blade." Sam dials the number, but pauses before pressing call. He goes to their library and pulls out the encyclopedia of biblical weapons. He opens it up to the page on the first blade and places it in front of Mary, pointing to the picture.
"Here's what it looks like and the basic info on it. In case he asks." She studies the picture, tilting her head slightly in confusion. Dean picks up on it and explains "There were no blacksmiths before murder was invented. It's made from a donkey bone." Sam presses call, puts it on speaker, and sets the phone on the table. He puts his finger to his lips; nobody speak she's supposed to be alone.
"Who are you and how did you get this number?" A gruff voice answers. Sam places the note in front of her and point to the signature.
"My name is Mary and I got this number from Bela." She answers. "I hear you-"
"Bela who?" The voice cuts her off. Sam quickly scribbles on the note Talbot
"Bela Talbot" Mary quickly replies, a hint of nervousness to her voice. "I hear you buy um... occult artifacts?" There's a pause, everyone waits with bated breath.
"I do. You got something interesting to sell?"
"The First Blade. As in the knife Cain used to kill Abel." The man on the other line chuckles.
"Ms. Mary Unknown somehow got her hands on The First Blade? You'll forgive my skepticism. Nobody even knows where it is."
"I do. It's sitting right in front of me." Mary says, her voice increasing in confidence. "I'll warn you, it's ugly. Cain made it out of what looks like a jawbone." Dean gives her a thumbs-up, she's doing good.
"How much you want for it?" He asks. We've got him. Mary looks to Dean, not knowing how to answer. He holds up four fingers and mouths "four million" Sam shakes his head, squinting his eyes. Why four million, dude? Dean shrugs in response.
"Four million"
"Two" He counters.
"Four." Mary says again looking to Dean, not sure if she should be haggling about an item she doesn't actually intend to sell.
"Three"
"Deal. Time and place?" They agree to meet at 7 PM the following day at his house. Mary hangs up and takes a deep breath, calming her nerves.
"And then I tried to kill Metatron with it." Dean narrates, catching his mom up on the unwritten lore of the blade as he drives the crew Rodney's. Eileen gazes out the window while Mary listens with rapt attention. "It... didn't go to plan." He says with a sidelong glance at Sam. He's still deeply embarrassed about his summer vacation with Crowley. And ashamed for trying to kill Sam. It was almost unnerving how quickly Sam forgave him for it, but Dean would never forgive himself. "He killed me. Crowley put that blade in my cold dead hands and I-" He cuts off, not sure how to explain what exactly happened next. When he woke up, he felt... different. All the emotional baggage he had carried around his whole life was lifted from his shoulders. All the guilt, the responsibility. For whatever reason, it no longer mattered to him. He wasn't entirely apathetic, he still felt things. But he just didn't care in the same way he usually does. If the world was gonna end, let it be someone else's problem. If Sammy was in trouble, well that's on him. And if Sam died? Dean wouldn't be broken up about it in the slightest. He'd probably use it to manipulate some girl into his bed. He felt free, like he could do whatever he wanted without care or concern for anybody else. No 'take care of Sammy,' no 'saving people,' just Dean being Dean. Of course, he wasn't really Dean anymore but he didn't realize that at the time. "I um..." He tries again. Sam seems to pick up on his hesitation and speaks for him.
"Dean became a demon. And even when we got him right again, he was still... wrong." Sam is clearly picking his words carefully, not wanting to upset anybody. "A lot of violence and anger."
"Holding that blade, it did something to him, something we could never really explain." Cas adds, clutching the box containing the blade. Dean weighs in his head whether or not he should tell his mom how it felt to hold it. Maybe it would help her storytelling, or clue Rodney in that the Winchesters were involved. He figures that whoever has the blade would probably know at least a little bit about how it works and speaks.
"Not having the blade felt like I was missing a limb. I felt... itchy without it. And once it was in my hand," His voice is level, this is a confession that he hoped never to verbalize. "I just felt... powerful. Strong. Angry. I felt like the ultimate killer. And then I'd need to kill. It sounds crazy, but I needed to kill like I need to drink. It wasn't about who or what I killed, I just needed to see the light leave something." He pauses, getting lost in the memory of Alex's "brother" he had beheaded with the dull end of his knife. It had been messy, and definitely painful. But the look in that vamp's eyes had him high for days. Then the reality of the situation sinks in and shame takes center stage. "God, what kind of a monster does that?" he whispers.
"You had the Mark." Sam supplies in answer to the question Dean didn't realize he'd said aloud.
"Thanks, I didn't realize that." Dean says dryly. Sam smiles in recognition. He clears his throat to get them back on track. "Look it felt good, but I still knew how bad it all was. My morality didn't go to the wayside, it just wasn't as strong as the mark. I almost killed Sam. More than once. It was really bad, Mom." His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, trying to gauge her reaction. She's listening intently, she looks to Sam who nods once in confirmation. She seems almost... sympathetic. No hint of her judging or hating him. "Sam put together a crew to get the Mark off of me, I fought them tooth and nail. We.. lost someone important to us." Sam looks down in shame I think it should be you up there instead of her. Dean's own words ring in his head. He never apologized for that, never grappled with his own role in Charlie's death. Apologies from Dean were always unspoken, but he hoped they were still understood. Sam's apparent guilt tells him otherwise. "The blade and the Mark only worked together. Now that the Mark doesn't exist, the blade can't work."
Dean stops the car about a block away from the address Rodney gave them. Cas hands the box to Mary, looking troubled.
"Dean, I can't go in. The house is heavily warded." Dean rolls his eyes with a sigh.
"Naturally. Alright, Cas, you've been demoted to getaway driver. Keep the car running and ready." Cas shakes his head, concerned.
"You don't understand, the warding on that house is powerful. I already feel ill. This is no ordinary man. Be careful." Dean nods to reassure Cas.
"When am I not?" Cas looks confused, no doubt his brain is scrolling through examples of Dean not being careful.
"We'll be careful, Castiel. I'll text you when it's safe for you to come in." Mary's voice is calm, she transitions into the incantation for the hex bags. Under his shirt, Dean feels a wave of heat flow out of the hex bag. It feels like molten glass, he's surprised it isn't melting. The temperature rises the further she gets in the spell. Mary seems entirely unpeturbed, most likely expecting it. Eileen moves hers about an inch away from her chest. Sam and Dean pull theirs to the outside of their shirts. As soon as she's finished, it quickly cools down. Mary exits the car without another word. Once they're alone in the car, Dean turns to Eileen.
"Hey, can I see that map?" She pulls it from her pocket and hands it over. Dean studies it, trying to commit it to memory. Unfortunately, Eileen only knew about the traps on the first floor. A lot of touch-activated spells and cursed objects laying around. The basement door would be no sweat. Why the hell a collector would want his door to unlock with demon blood is beyond any of them. They'd had a very... tense discussion with Crowley about procuring it. Even though it had been years since he had touched the stuff, demons were still telling each other stories of Sam drinking demons and Crowley was worried his political stature would be tarnished if it got out that he'd given the Winchesters any. All it took was Dean reminding him that his place on the throne didn't exist as long as Lucifer could walk right into Hell and claim it, and he handed it over. It remained in Dean's pocket. Dean trusted his brother completely, but it still made him feel a bit safer to be the one in control of it. Dean's phone buzzes, a text from his mom. We're in the office. He reads it aloud to Sam and Eileen, who get out of the car. Cas gets out as well in order to move into the driver's seat. Before Cas can get in, Dean grabs him gently by the shoulder. "If you hurt her..." He begins.
"Hurt... who?" Cas asks, perplexed. Lord, give me patience with this millenium old child-
"The car, Cas. Just sit there and don't do anything." Cas nods and climbs behind the wheel.
The three of them are silent as they approach the house, stepping carefully up the porch. It's ostensibly a hunting cabin, with a rickety staircase and a rocking chair. Sam silently pushes the door open, picking up the sock Mary had dropped for them. No alarms ring out as they enter and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Dean can hear his mother's voice some distance away, reciting the history of the blade. "It's an old donkey bone, Cain didn't have any understanding of blacksmithing afterall.." Eileen signs, her fingers walking up a set of imaginary stairs. Sam signs something in return, mouthing "be careful". She nods and slowly ascends the stairs while Sam and Dean turn to the left to find the basement. Instead of a lock, the basement door has a button. There's nowhere to put the blood, Dean realizes. Sam presses the button out of a lack of anything else to do. It makes a noise that sounds like electricity shorting out. Sam quickly recoils, shaking off some kind of pain. They both look at Sam's hand, Dean in confusion and Sam in surprise. The finger he'd used to press the button is bleeding. Not much, but pressing a button usually doesn't result in any bleeding. What the hell? To both of their surprise, the button flashes green and they hear the door click open. Nope, I don't want to think about why that worked. They make eye contact for a moment and Dean could swear Sam is thinking the same thing. Dean pats the vial of demon blood in his pocket, unsure if it has any worth now. He nods towards the door. Sam opens it and leads the way down.
Far from the unfinished stockpile they'd expected, the basement is vast and looks more like a museum than anything you'd find in a house. Knives, guns, sculptures, and spellbooks are on display evenly spaced out between each other in glass cases. Paintings and tapestries line the walls, each with a placard explaining what they are. "Holy shit." Dean breathes out.
"Tell me about it." Sam replies, just as awestruck as Dean is. They fan out to look for the lance, but something else quickly catches Dean's eye. The placard reads "Samuel Colt's gun." His mind flashes to the weapon's most personal kill: Azazel. Even a decade later, he can still remember that day like it's fresh. His entire life's work led to that moment, and they did it as a family. It would've been worth the trip to Hell if Sammy had died again right after just to have him there for that moment. Dean couldn't wait to show this gun to his mom, tell her about that moment. "Hey, beautiful" he whispers to the gun before calling out over his shoulder "Sammy, look at this!" Sam walks over to him. He smiles when he sees it.
"No way," Sam whispers
"Way, it's still got the cracks from when Bobby fixed it." Dean points out the cracks with a chuckle.
"How'd it get here?" Sam asks.
"Doesn't matter, it's coming home with us." Dean replies, his mind made up. He raises his own gun above his head to shatter the glass. Sam grabs his arm to stop him.
"Dean, we're here for the lance. We can't risk getting caught to steal the Colt." There's an urgency to Sam's voice. Always a buzzkill. Though it does give Dean pause.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want it back." Dean's testing Sam's conviction. Sam tightens his lips and his gaze flicks to the gun contemplatively. Gotcha. Dean pulls his arm free and Sam yells his name in fear as the glass shatters.
Sam can hear an alarm going off from upstairs, meaning Rodney definitely knows they're down here. A purple fog cloud begins to form, based on scent it's some kind of poison sleep spell but Sam isn't too sure. Their hex bags glow slightly and the fog dissipates as it comes near them. Sam could absolutely murder Dean in this moment, the idiot. He couldn't be smart for once in his goddamn life? Now they have maybe 30 seconds to find the lance and get out, hopefully with their mom and Eileen. Oh shit, Eileen! She's totally on her own upstairs, unable to hear the alarm. They really shouldn't have split up. Sam's eyes search the walls for anything that looks like the Lance of Michael. He recalls seeing a painting of it once, but nothing on the walls matches it. Of course, who says the painting was biblically accurate? Sam notices movement and the bottom of his peripheral vision and glances down to see Dean petting the colt.
"Dude, focus. Find the lance before he-" Sam is cut off by their mother calling out their names. A man has her around the throat, a blade held to her neck in one hand as the other restrains her arm behind her. He's looks to be about Bobby's age, his dark hair and goatee greying slightly. His eyes are dark, but oddly sincere. He walks casually, pushing Mary who stumbles down the stairs.
"Mom!" Both boys say in unison, their voices harsh and worried. Though Dean is a tad more harsh and Sam a tad more worried. Sam raises his hands in surrender, nobody needs to die here. It's bad enough they're robbing the man, they don't need to kill him too.
"Hear us out, please." He begs, "We're here for good reason." Rodney laughs darkly.
"Hear YOU out? You broke into my house to steal my gun." Sam rolls his eyes, taking the gun will make it a hell of a lot harder to convince him to let them take the lance. He glares at Dean for being a dumbass.
"Actually, we came here to steal the Lance of Michael. Consider the Colt repossessed." Dean cracks. Sam pretends not to notice Eileen creeping down the stairs. He says a silent prayer that she stays quiet.
"I don't know how much you know about all this stuff but-" Sam begins to explain.
"More than you, Winchester." Okay, he knows who we are. Not sure if that helps us or hurts us in this particular situation.
"If you know us, then you know we're facing something big. Lucifer is back." Sam continues. "We just needed the Lance to stop him." Sam sees motion from behind Rodney, Eileen is pointing at him and signing Demon and gesturing to her ring. Sam is immediately triggered to action, drawing the old reliable knife from his shoe and diving towards Rodney and his mom. Dean calls out Sam's name, it is reckless for him to attack while he has Mary. But Sam reaches around the both of them and stabs Rodney in the back. To his surprise, there's not even a flicker. It's like he had just poked him with a pencil. He pulls the knife out of the man's back, and looks at it to make sure it is indeed bloody, that he didn't miss or anything. Mary takes advantage of the distraction to grab the arm around her neck and push it away, freeing herself from his grasp.
"It seems you've gotten some bad information, son." Rodney says, flashing his yellow eyes. Sam takes a step back, stunned. How the hell? Sam hears a click from behind him, Dean is aiming the Colt at the demon. Of course it's empty. Rodney charges after Dean, trying to wrench the gun from his hand. Sam looks to Eileen, Find Colt bullets He doesn't risk speaking to her aloud, as far as Sam can tell "Rodney" has no clue Eileen is there and Sam intends to keep it that way. She nods, and exits the basement. Hopefully she knows where to find them. Sam turns to see his brother on the floor with a yellow-eyed demon pummeling him as his mother pounces onto his back like a feral cat. Let it never be said we're a graceful family. Sam searches the weapons that line the walls, hoping to find something else that can kill him. Dean's face is bloody and broken, this was no longer just about getting the gun back. Hand-to-hand combat won't work on this thing. Mary is thrown from his back in a blast of psychic energy that nearly knocks Sam off his feet. She flies into the wall and hits the ground with a sickeningly loud crunch. Sam stampedes into the fray, hoping to give Dean a moment's reprieve if nothing else. It works, the demon rises to face Sam, leaving Dean seemingly confident that he won't be getting back up. Rodney grabs Sam by the throat and takes him to the ground, taking a weird creepy sniff at Sam's cheek.
"Ah.. so you're Sam." Sam doesn't want to think about why he needed to smell Sam to figure that out, nope.
"And who are you?" Sam asks, his face the definition of consternation. Rodney squeezes Sam's throat, cutting off his oxygen.
"Ramiel. Sorry about your brother, but you just waltzed in here with an opportunity to avenge my own." Sam is struggling to breathe, to speak. Is he talking about Azazel? All this time, they'd thought he was the only one. "You know a lot about vengence, don't you Sammy? Azazel kills your mom, you kill Azazel, I kill Dean, you try to kill me. Around and around we go until you're just as much a demon as we are." Sam's head begins to feel fuzzy and his vision begins to swim. He's not unfamiliar with this feeling, but that doesn't stop his body from automatically freaking the hell out every single time. "I can smell my brother on you." Sam's stomach drops, he'd felt a lot more clean after the trials. A lot more pure. A lot more human. But then why else would the blood scanner work for him? "What, you didn't think that slate could ever be wiped, did you son? It's not just your body that's infected, this goes down to your very soul." Sam feels himself about to pass out as a gunshot rings out, echoing loudly in the large basement. The demon slumps on top of him, and Sam pushes him off gasping for air. He sees Dean, laying on the floor with his head slightly raised, the Colt still smoking. Sam turns around and sees Eileen on the stairs, clutching a small wooden crate with loose bullets rattling around. Found them Sam nods his head slightly and gets up as quickly as he can, running to Dean.
"I'm fine, go to Mom." He says, his words somewhat muffled by a swollen lip. Sam does just that. She's concious, but seems a little out of it. Making eye contact, Sam notices that her left pupil is slightly larger than her right. Her left leg has developed a third joint just below her knee, definitely broken. He touches the back of her head, feeling for blood or a possible fracture. Coming up empty, he relaxes a bit.
"Okay, you're gonna be okay, Mom." He waves Eileen over. "Can you bring her to the car?" She nods her head and lowers herself to put Mary's left arm over her shoulder, supporting her weight when she very much can't support her own. Sam signs a quick Thank you as they move slowly and in time with each other up the stairs. Sam returns to Dean, his face unrecognizable. Both eyes blackened and closed. Dean grabs onto the display case and pulls himself to his feet, clearly in pain but trying to tough it out. He quickly falls back down, Sam catching him in the knick of time before his head hits the grown. "Stay down, dude." Dean nods and lays back against the floor.
After maybe a minute of searching, Sam finds it hanging on the wall. It's silver, likely made from the same material as angel blades. Six feet in length, the blade is covered in runework coming together with a three-edged point. He reaches up and wrenches it from its mounting, it was stuck in there pretty good but came off with a bit of force. It's beautiful, and Sam can feel the rush of magic coming from it. Or maybe that's coming from something else, Sam realizes as he sees his hex bag glowing telling him another spell was released when he grabbed it. He goes over to Dean, kicking him in the ankle. "Come on, I got it." Sam pulls Dean to his feet and throws Dean's right arm over his shoulder. He carries the lance crossways in front of them, careful to keep the point out of range as they exit the house.
Dean is stumbling down the sidewalk somewhat blindly, trusting Sam to guide his way. Cas meets Sam and Dean halfway, clearly having gotten some information on what was going on. He places a hand on Dean's head, and Dean feels the warm light of grace mending shattered bones. Blinking into his retuning vision, Dean mumbles a thank you. There's no way to safely fit the lance in the impala, so Cas quickly flies it back to the bunker before returning to the crew. Once they're back in the car with Dean behind the wheel, Cas has questions while Sam stares at the Colt in his lap.
"What happened in there? You mother was explaining that Rodney is a demon?" Dean chuckles darkly, not just any demon.
"Yeah, turns out our old friend Azazel was part of a set." Cas nods his head knowingly.
"The Princes of Hell. Lucifer's answer to the archangels. He thought of himself as their God and needed his own generals to act on his behalf. They were as loyal to their creator as Lucifer was to his, which is to say not at all. After he was caged, Azazel was the only one to remain in Lucifer's service. The rest have kept themselves off the radar of both Heaven and Hell for hundreds of years." Dean shakes his head, that would've been good to know but he figures it never really came up. "Do you know which one you just killed?"
"Ramiel," Sam mumbles. "Dean found this," he explains waving the gun back and forth. "And nostalgia took him over so he tried to grab it. It went sideways from there."
"It was worth it, Sammy." That gun belongs with the Winchesters, and Dean would be damned if he ever let it out of his grasp again.
"What's so special about it?" Mary asks, not understanding why Dean would risk all of their lives over it.
"It's THE Colt, Mom." Dean explains. Mary's eyes widen in recognition, but Dean keeps speaking. "Samuel Colt, only five things it can't kill, the gun we used to avenge your death." He lists the gun's accolades like they're obvious.
"My dad used to tell me stories, it's real?" His mom seems to be as excited about the gun as Dean is, and Dean can't help but smile.
"Oh yeah, it's very real. And it's home again."
Dean notes the way Sam immediately retreats to his room when they get home. Cas leaves quickly as well, something about informing someone in Heaven of Ramiel's death. Dean has no clue who Cas is going to tell, he's not exactly welcome there. He really hopes Sam isn't ruminating on what Ramiel had said, but if he knows Sam (and he does) that's exactly what's happening. Dean pulls the vial of Crowley's blood from his pocket. Ramiel's words probably wouldn't have hit as hard if they'd ended up needing it. Dean doesn't know what to do with it, the blood of the King of Hell would probably be useful at some point, but on a personal level Dean's not sure he can stomach keeping it in the bunker.
"He seems upset." Eileen nods towards Sam's room. "Did I miss anything?" Dean shrugs, it's Sam's business to tell her if he wants to but Dean can't deny she's right.
"You know how demons are, the things they say. This one had a personal grudge against us and didn't pull any punches." Eileen wordlessly follows Sam, Dean feels a bit of relief that she's going to talk to him. He won't mention the door, not to his mom, not to Cas, not to anyone.
"I take it this means we don't need to add Michael to this equation?" His mother notes. Dean smiles and nods. He's glad they'd found another way, usually their only options are desperate and risky. But here they had a solid alternative. They got to take the best option rather than the only option.
"Yes it does. Consider this one a success." Dean speaks with finality. Mary nods, her face pensive. She starts walking to her room, but pauses and turns back to face Dean.
"Sam's journal brings up Hell. But he speaks about it in present-tense. He stops in the middle of describing you boys hunting the ghost of a psychic to talk about Adam taking back control from Michael, sparking a debate between Lucifer and Michael over Adam. Then the shapeshifter baby that he's already written about months before, again told in present tense. And he goes back and forth between all of that. I couldn't read most of it, Dean, but it seemed like he had a friendly face in the cage." Dean doesn't know how to process any of this, least of all that Sam actually let her read that. Dean nods solemnly.
"I remember that psychic hunt. Sam was having a hard time telling the difference between his cage memories and reality back then. He had almost two hundred years worth of memories smack him in the face at once, sometimes two distinct sets of memories that happened at the same time. None of it meshed well with what was really going on around him, and he got mixed up." He explains, Sam's standoff with an imaginary Satan remains one of the most terrifying moments of his life. There was absolutely fucking nothing Dean could do to save Sam from his own mind. But Dean can't understand what her point is here. "Mom, why are you telling me this?"
"The archangel blade is not the main reason Sam wanted to go down there, Dean. He's got a little brother in the cage. You are the only other person on the planet to know how that feels." She knows right where to aim, doesn't she? Dean sighs.
"Mom, I'm tired. We can pick this up tomorrow" He insists, though he has no intention of revisiting the conversation. Michael stays in the box. He's sorry for Adam, he really did seem like a good kid, but he couldn't afford to even try. He knows if they keep bringing it up, his resolve would falter. His mother pointing out Dean's own pain at Sam's tenure there was a low but effective blow, and Dean knows it. She nods her head, satisfied with whatever progress she's made today. He heads to his own room and turns on the TV, flipping through various channels until stopping at a tabloid news channel showing footage of Vince Vincente.
Sam sits on his bed, trying to process. He was more perturbed by the door than anything Ramiel had said. Demons lie, they find your deepest insecurity and exploit it to throw you off your game. That's all Ramiel was doing, he somehow knew about the door scanner and knew it would upset Sam to bring it up. Easy explanation, one he's given and recieved numerous times. But the door... opened for him. It accepted his blood as demon. The door wasn't trying to throw him off, it just did its job. There's a knock at the door, it opens before Sam can respond. Eileen enters and closes it behind her.
"Hey, Eileen." He whispers.
"What's the matter?" She asks, getting straight to the point as she sits beside him on the bed.
"How sure are you that the door needed demon blood?" He asks, signing as he speaks. He's not fully confident he's able to his point across relying on ASL alone. It seems Eileen understands him nevertheless.
"'Rodney' caught me trying to open it last time I was there. He laughed and said it required 'blood of a powerful demon' I figured the King of Hell would qualify. Why, did it not work?" Sam feels a wave of nausea hit him. He rubs his face, trying to return some color to it. "Sam, what happened?"
"I opened it, Eileen. I pushed the button, thinking it would open something for us to drop the blood in. But the button... I don't know it zapped me. My finger bled onto it and the door... unlocked." Eileen shrugs, not really understanding the weight of that.
"Then I guess I was wrong. Demons lie. Or maybe he changed something since then. What other explanation is there?" Sam doesn't know whether or not to tell her. He knows there are hunters out there who know, demons loved spreading the word about Sam's... situation any time a hunter trapped them. He goes back and forth, considering, before deciding he'd rather she hear it from him. He shakes his head and averts eye contact really wishing she was right but knowing deep down she wasn't.
"I have demon blood in me." His voice is as flat as he can manage. He flicks his eyes up to see her reaction. She seems confused, so he repeats himself in sign before continuing. "Ramiel's 'brother,' Azazel, the night he killed my mom he... fed me his blood. Since I was six months old, it has been there, corrupting me." Eileen looks surprised, which Sam finds comforting. "A few years ago I thought I was... cured or cleansed or whatever you want to call it. Guess I was wrong. I'll always be the freak with the demon blood." He says, spitting out the word "freak," "I'm not human, Eileen." She touches his chest, looking at him with nothing but sympathy in her eyes. Not a hint of judgement.
"You're human, Sam. And a good one at that." Sam shakes his head, unwilling to believe her. The moment he forgets what his... condition means for him and the world at large he becomes dangerous. "Sam, nothing about who you are has changed from yesterday. Yesterday you thought you were 'pure,' today you don't, but either way you are still the same Sam. Don't wake up tomorrow thinking that needs to change." He gives her a small smile, more an attempt at reassuring her than genuine happiness. She takes his hand and Sam feels an almost magnetic pull toward her. She's looking at his lips, but Sam isn't sure if that's because she wants to kiss him or she's wanting to read his lips. Then again, he isn't speaking right now. She's leaning in for a kiss, and Sam panics for a moment. He wants this, he wants her, but he also wants to protect her. It's screwed up that two desires that should be in harmony instead cause a conundrum. Split-second decision, he kisses her right back. Sparks fly as two magnets snap together. He holds a hand to her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She's soft and warm and it just feels so right. A knock at the door and he breaks away, pointing towards the door.
"Yeah?" He calls out. Dean steps in, somewhat slowly and not wanting to interupt.
"You might've been right about Vince Vincente. His fans are self-harming en masse, carving goddamn sigils into themselves. How much you wanna bet Lucifer's planning something big?" Sam hangs his head, they really never get a moment's rest, do they?
Notes:
Thanks for reading this far! I promise we're gonna get to the juicy stuff soon.
Chapter 5
Summary:
Armed with the Lance of Michael, the crew charges in to prevent a mass casualty event.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
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, and 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 needed 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 houseing 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 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 stupid 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 dying? 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." Mary 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.
"The second we're in, we're gonna make some artistic edits to it." Mary 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." 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 didn'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 him 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 at his mother's feet. 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, and Sam runs over to his brother trying 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, this day 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 finally 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.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated but not required.
Chapter 6
Summary:
Sam wants to go to Hell. Again. Dean's not gonna let him do it alone. Again. Things go wrong. Again. But then they go right for the first time in a long time.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean sits in the kitchen with his mother, having calmed down quite a bit. They're in the middle of a debrief after everything that went down the night before. She holds his hand, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in a gesture of comfort.
"You've both been through a lot, Dean. You've been carrying the fate of the world on your shoulders for years, that kind of stress changes a person." Dean gets where she's going with this, that Sam is just jaded. But that's not what's happening here. She doesn't know.
"Yeah, whatever." The conversation is interupted when the man of the hour walks in. He's dressed, a backpack slung over his shoulder.
"I'm going to Hell." Sam announces to the room. Dean looks to his mom for her reaction. She bites her lip in apprehension, nodding her head towards Sam and raising a brow. Go with him. She's saying without words. This is a terrible idea, poking at the cage has never once gone their way. But... Sam has made up his mind and Dean isn't gonna let Sam be stupid alone.
"What's the plan, Sam?" Dean asks, his voice flat and disinterested.
"Rowena's upright again. Second verse same as the first." Sam explains casually, like this is a trip to Piggly Wiggly. Dean nods once.
"Anything I can do to talk you out of this?" He asks. Sam shakes his head, his eyes hard.
"No. Rowena's already getting things ready." Dean sighs, he really doesn't want to do this but he can't let Sam go alone.
"Alright," Dean looks at his mom "Guess I'm going to Hell," Dean says, rising from his seat.
"Are you sure? You being there might give Michael bargaining power-"
"I'm driving." Dean says to end the conversation. Sam thinks for a moment, his eyes squinting a bit. Dean turns to their mom, putting her to work. "Mom, you try to figure out who Lucifer might've flown into while we're gone." She nods her head and Dean turns back to Sam. "Lemme grab my go-bag. Don't leave without me," Dean's voice is stern. Sam nods, accepting that Dean would be coming. As he goes to collect it, Dean's thoughts wander to Michael. He seemed like a decent enough guy, except for the part where he wanted to wear Dean and kill both of their brothers. Oh, and nuking the world would've sucked. But compared to Lucifer? Michael seemed to be a perfect angel, both literally and figuratively. He struggled to see the supposed resemblence between himself and Michael. Dean is dysfunctional and angry in a way he'd never seen Michael be. Oh, and Dean's dad gave him the same order to kill his brother Michael's did was and said "fuck that, my dad's an ass." He just didn't understand why Michael would want someone like him as a vessel. He meets Sam in the garage, leaning against the passenger door. Dean had half expected Sam to take off without him. They get in the car and Dean pulls onto the street. Before the highway, Sam notices something and snaps to attention.
"Hey, can we stop there?" He says, pointing out the window. A sign reads "Missy's Treats" It's a bakery with the best blueberry pie Dean had ever eaten. Why the hell Sam suddenly wants to stop there before a trip to fucking Hell is above Dean's pay grade, but he turns into the parking lot anyway. Sam gets out of the car before it's even in park.
"PIE!" Dean yells as the door slams shut, Sam offering a thumbs up without looking at Dean waiting in the car.
The smell of vanilla hits Sam hard as he walks through the front door. There's a refridgerated display case against the wall and a glass display ahead of the register. He goes straight to the fridge, looking at all the sheet cakes decorated with flowers and swirly patterns. Chocolate, red velvet, vanilla, German chocolate, funfetti, berries and cream... so many options. Sam picks up a 10-inch round funfetti cake with vanilla buttercream frosting, the edges look like it was frosted with a fork. The top is flat and clear for writing, save for yellow dollaps of icing around the border with sprinkles. He carries his selection to the check out counter, and is greeted by the bakery's owner. She's an older woman, slightly overweight with red hair and a warm smile.
"Good morning, is this all for you today?" She asks brightly.
"Morning. Uh... Could I get a slice of your blueberry pie?" Sam asks, returning her smile.
"Absolutely, Sugar." She cuts the slice and puts it into a box for him, setting it next to the cake. "What would you like written on your cake?" Sam freezes at the quesion. He just wanted a cake, he hadn't thought about writing at all. Anything he wanted to say would sound insane and wouldn't fit on a cake. But she's staring at him quite intently, and Sam kinda panics trying to come up with something quickly.
"You're 26" Falls out of his mouth. The woman cocks her head, looking confused, probably as to why he didn't want "Happy 26th birthday" but not curious enough to ask. She takes the cake back as Sam fishes in his wallet for the credit card Charlie had given him. He figures it's as good a thing as any to write on the cake. Adam will want to know how long it's been. They'd both lost track of time pretty much immediately, neither of them aging in the cage. Sam knows getting Adam a cake will look kinda stupid to everyone else in the room. Michael will make fun of him for thinking that it means anything, Dean will think it's pointless. But it's not just a cake, it's a reminder that Sam didn't forget him.
Sam walks from the bakery to the car, carrying a small plastic container of blueberry pie and a big white box of something with a plastic fork and a napkin on top. Dean is dying to know what the hell all this is about, and wastes no time in asking the second the passenger door opens.
"What's all this for?" he asks as Sam climbs into his seat. Sam hands Dean the pie, Dean casually puts it in the backseat of the car. Sam opens the box and Dean resists the urge to laugh. It's a fucking cake, white frosting and sprinkles with "You're 26" written in blue icing.
"I got cake." Sam says. A memory stirs for Dean. Sam, when he had just started flying the cuckoo's nest, bringing home a cake that looked kinda similar to this one. Dean was stunned at the time, he had raised the kid, Sam knew Dean wanted pie so why the hell did he get a cake? Then it clicks. Dean wasn't Sam's cellie in Hell, Adam was. Sam was shopping for his brother and he got mixed up on which brother he was with. "It's for Adam." Sam says by way of explanation. Dean nods, finally understanding what his mom was trying to tell him. Sam wants to make sure Adam is okay, the same way Dean is constantly checking in on Sam. The same thoughts that haunted Dean while Sam was in the cage haunt Sam now. The constant nightmare images, the survivor's guilt, the not knowing. The feeling of complete and utter failure to protect a little brother. Sam is a big brother, afterall. He's mimicking what his own big brother had modeled for him. And Dean had sacrificed a lot for Sam's sake, made a lot of crazy decisions, and Sam is stupid enough to try to do the same for Adam. That's what all this has been about. Goddamn it, his mom was right. This isn't about the cake, or even the blade. It's about Adam.
"As soon as Lucifer is off the playing field, we'll find a way to get him out." Dean assures Sam. Sam seems grateful, closing the box with a small smile.
"Thanks." He whispers, seemingly worried about jinxing it.
They walk through Crowley's throne room, already empty of most demons. Crowley sits in that stupid chair, Rowena at his side. Crowley studies them, making Sam uncomfortable.
"Hello, boys." He says, standing up. Sam and Dean greet him with a "Crowley" spoken in unison. Sam turns his attention to Rowena.
"Thank you for this." His earnestness doesn't seem to reach her, she shakes her head.
"Don't thank me, repay me." She coos, extending the word "repay" Sam nods.
"Definitely." He walks side by side with Rowena into Hell, Dean and Crowley following in a second row behind them.
"What's in the box?" Crowley asks, seemingly just to make conversation on the walk.
"Sam bought a cake for Adam." Dean explains, disinterested.
"You've missed a few birthdays." Crowley points out. He gets no response. Sam doesn't feel the need to explain himself to Crowley. Realization hits Sam and he stops dead in his tracks, Dean coliding with him. Dean shouldn't be in the same room as Michael. It was a bad idea then, it's a bad idea now.
"What?" Dean asks, his voice somewhat harsh. Sam must've startled him.
"Maybe you should hang back for this part, Dean." He's half whispering. Rowena gives Sam a surprised look and Sam turns to face Dean. Dean looks befuddled and irritated. "It's easier to tell Michael he can't possess you if you're not there."
"Fuck that, Sam. Go." His voice is harsh, Dean's mind is made up. Sam knows better than to try to convince Dean otherwise and keeps walking.
Dean hears Rowena speaking an incantation, some distance behind them as they stand before the very same construct they'd attempted to hold Lucifer in not too long ago. There are sigils painted in a perfect circle around the bottom of the cage. When she finishes, a ring of fire appears around the cell and the sigils glow as Michael/Adam appears as though he flew into it. His body language communicates calm confidence, his arms behind his back and his shoulders tall. He slowly walks to the front of the cage.
"Sam. Dean. Nice to see you both in good health." Dean doesn't want to spend any extra time down here and Sam looks like he's about to crap his pants, so Dean gets right to the point.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but Lucifer's out." Michael nods his head, glaring at Sam.
"I have noticed. How'd that happen?" Michael replies with a knowing smile. Dean looks at Sam, who's extremely fascinated by his shoes and shaking like a leaf. Realizing they aren't going to answer, Michael continues. "I'd be happy to kill him for you, but I can't do it from here."
"That's not happening." Dean says with finality. Michael rushes forward and grabs the bars in front of him, a surge of anger. Both Winchesters flinch at the sudden display of emotion.
"You coward! You left Adam to a fate meant for you because you couldn't handle it." His voice is cool, only rising in volume on the word "coward."
"Michael?" Sam's eyes are closed and his voice is meek. Dean's completely thrown by his brother's shrinking and takes a step towards him protectively. "We- we came to ask for your blade."
"You've got a lot of nerve, Sam. I'm not giving it to you." Michael's voice is full of hatred. Not a hint of the regretful obedience Dean has come to expect from the archangel. "If you want Lucifer dead, I will be the one to do it. It's my destiny. Not yours." Michael turns to Dean, his demeanor more even. As if Dean is an old friend he's catching up with. The sudden changes in emotion are freaking Dean right the fuck out. "It's our destiny. Release me and we will stop Lucifer together." Dean shakes his head, tutting. Sam's not exactly cutting an intimidating figure, so Dean's gonna have to trash talk for the both of them. Dean matches Michael's confidence, trying to seem as cavalier as possible.
"Sorry, Mikey. One archangel at a time and right now it's your brother's turn on the chopping block." Sam straightens his back, a sudden confidence crossing his features. His eyes remain downcast, but his head is held higher.
"Can we talk to Adam?" He asks, only the slightest shiver to his voice. Michael smiles, a genuine and warm smile with a small nod.
"He wants to talk to you as well."
Michael's posture relaxes as Adam takes the driver's seat. He smiles at the both of them. Sam is finally able to meet his eyes and he recognizes his brother. Adam always carries himself a lot smaller than Michael, with far less pride. Adam puts his hands in his pockets, still wearing the same jeans and grey jacket he wore to the cemetary.
"Sam! Where'd you go, man? Some old guy came down and knocked everybody out. When we woke up, you were just gone!" Adam turns to Dean. "I thought you'd forgotten about us, about me."
"It's a long story, but I've been on the ground floor. Adam, I haven't gone a day without worrying." Sam finds himself feeling relieved that Adam seems to be relatively undamaged. He'd been petrified that the archangels may have turned their rage against him in Sam's absence, but he seems to be the same kid he was before.
"We would've gotten you out, but we couldn't let Lucifer out with you." Dean explains. He looks around the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone. "Well, that ship has sailed." Dean sounds tired, a feeling Sam echoes tenfold.
"Once Lucifer is dead, we're getting you out. We can't have Michael trying to restart the Apocalypse." Sam is trying to reassure Adam, who shuffles his feet while considering their words.
"Sam? How long has it been?" Adam asks, his voice oddly childlike. Figuring this is as good a time as any, Sam hops over the flame. From a distance, he hears Crowley calling out that Sam's a moron. He slides the cake through the bars, prompting a confused expression from Adam, who sits down next to the box. Sam nods towards it and pulls a plastic fork from his pocket.
"It's for you." Adam opens the box, his face lighting up at the cake. He looks up, seemingly doing some mental math and his face falls.
"Seven years? It's only been seven years?" He asks. Sam nods, his lips tight. "I'm.. not sure how to feel about that." Adam admits. But he takes the fork from Sam and starts eating, his legs dangling from the bottom of the cage. He eats fast, which isn't unexpected given the situation. "I'm guessing you two didn't go to all this trouble just to bring me a cake." He mumbles with a full mouth.
"We need Michael's blade to kill Lucifer. He's not wanting to hand it over." Dean explains. Adam nods and draws Michael's blade himself, handing it to Sam. Sam recognizes it immediately, having been on the wrong end of the thing countless times. It resembles a regular angel blade, save for its golden color and additional adornment on the handle. The enochian at the hilt identifying it as Michael's. No sooner has Sam taken the blade than Michael seizes back control. Sam sees it the moment it happens and takes a few steps back.
"They left you to rot and still you side with them?! I've been nothing but gracious, you disloyal worm, and this is how you repay me!" Michael screams, getting to his feet. Sam is overtaken by panic. Michael is angry at Adam, and Sam knows that's not an easy position to be in.
"You hearin' yourself, Mike?" Dean retorts, not seeming to grasp the danger Adam's in. Sam glares at Dean, willing him to shut the fuck up for once in his life.
"Adam, kick him out and we'll take you with us now!" Sam screams, drawing Michael and Dean's attention.
"Sam, it's too risky-" Dean begins, reaching over the flames to grab Sam's arm. Sam pulls himself from Dean's grip. Sam glares at Dean with tears threatening to fall.
"You don't understand what Adam just did for us. What's going to happen to him. We can't just leave him here." Sam's frantic, trying to figure out what to do. "Adam, you can tell him to leave you and he won't have a choice-"
"Adam can't hear you." Michael says slowly, emphasizing every word. Sam's breathing speeds up and his heartbeat pounds in his chest. There's gotta be something they can do. There's gotta be something. Sam can't let Adam face the consequences for helping them. It's not fair. He was just a kid, he didn't deserve any of this. "Hand the blade over and I'll go easy on him." And goddamn it, Sam actually considers it. Dean seems to notice and drags Sam away from the cage by the collar, stopping just short of the flames.
"We got no way of knowing where Michael will end up when Adam kicks him. We'll be back for him, Sammy, I promise." Dean is trying to reassure Sam, but it doesn't even touch his fear.
"Every second Adam spends in there is a second we've failed him." The words tumble out of Sam's mouth, hurried and frenzied. Dean is struck dumb, recognition crosses his eyes and he lets go of Sam's shirt. "ROWENA!" Sam screams. He feels lightheaded, when did he forget how to breathe? "ROWENA!" He turns to look in the direction she's been in. She's rushing towards them, worried that something went wrong. Michael rattles the bars and screams in frustration, the warding holding firm.
"Goodness, Samuel." She's wearing the same face of consternation as Dean. "What is it?"
"We need to get Adam out. Today. Now." Sam is trying to sound confident, but he just sounds rushed and freaked. "If he dumps Michael, will Michael be released?" A scream comes from the cage and Michael/Adam resumes Adam's typical posture.
"Sam!" Adam cries, a pained expression on his face. Sam's heart breaks, there's no telling what kind of havok Michael is wreaking upon his mind. "He's trying to-" Adam cuts himself off with another scream, his knuckles turning white around the bars. He gasps for air. Rowena takes in the scene in front of her.
"Poor dear." Rowena pouts with genuine dismay. "If he revokes consent in the cage, Michael won't have anywhere to go. We can resummon the boy here and let him walk right out. But we need to end this spell and he needs to successfully kick the archangel out."
"You hear that Adam?" Dean projects his voice, it echoes throughout the room. "We're gonna send the both of you back. As soon as you get there, tell Michael to get the fuck out of you. Angels need permission to posses people, so he'll have to leave you. Then you can come home with us." Adam nods, tears falling from his eyes. Adam can't seem to get enough breath for a verbal response.
"You can do this." Sam calls after Adam.
"Finis!" Rowena yells. Michael/Adam disappear from the cell in a burst of light. The ring of fire goes out and the warding sigils smolder. Sam walks back to the other side of the line, meeting Rowena where she is.
"Hurry. Please." Sam implores her. She rushes back to where she did the spell from before. Dean starts pacing, no doubt this isn't how he expected the day to go. Sam stares at the cake, a quarter of which is gone. Sam hopes against hope that Michael doesn't take advantage of every single second he's outside of Adam to hurt him. He prays that he didn't leave his brother to be tortured without himself as a lightning rod for their rage. He wishes Adam could be able to live a normal life after all this insanity. Sam takes the silence as an opportunity to calm his racing heart and slow his rapid breathing. He's coming home today. He repeats it like a mantra. He's coming home today. He's coming home today. He's coming home today. What is taking so long? What is happening to Adam while they stand around worrying? Michael was always quick and efficient. Lucifer liked to monologue and play games with his torture, but with Michael it always felt more like corporal punishment. It was quicker, cleaner. Like Michael didn't really want to get involved, but felt he had to. Lucifer was the artist and Michael the studio executive. Michael seemed to genuinely believe there was some kind of higher purpose to hurting Sam. As though it was simply his divine right. He hated Sam with every fibre of his being, and Michael was never one to question himself. With Adam, though? Sam honestly has no idea what could be going on. A lecture about obedience and gratitude? Forgiveness? A swift beating, or something worse? Whatever it is, he won't be taking his time, any punishment will be immediate and direct. Sam is hyperaware of every passing second, his mind filling with horrific images of his own time with Michael but with Adam in his place. He's slightly comforted by the fact that he holds Michael's favored weapon in his own hands. But even unarmed, Michael can do some serious damage. He's the most powerful of the archangels, perfect vessel be damned. Dean is notably silent as the seconds turn to minutes. Adam has been alone with a pissed off Michael for seven minutes. Seven minutes too long.
Suddenly, a flash of light as the fire reignites and the sigils come back to life. Adam reappears in the cage, hugging himself and shaking. His shirt has been torn, revealing what looks to be claw marks burned into his chest. The skin there is charred black and still smoking. He's bleeding from a wound on the right side of his forehead and his knees. But he's there. Sam breathes a sigh of relief, though there's still a tinge of remorse and anger that they weren't faster. Rowena and Crowley rush down to meet them and Sam charges towards the cage, leaping back over the fire.
"Adam? Just you in there, right, bud?" He asks. Adam nods his head, blinking hard and fast to stop his tears. Sam collects the cake from the floor of the cell. "You can finish this once we get you some place with clean air." Sam hands Dean the cake as Crowley and Rowena finally arrive at the base of the hill. Crowley scoffs at the sight in front of him.
"He works fast. I outta hire some angels,"
"Shut up." Dean snaps. "Rowena, please."
"Pro libertate!" She yells. The sigils fizzle out and die, though the fire keeps alight. Sam jumps onto the cage, grabbing onto two bars to steady himself and begins prying them apart.
"Oh, sure! Vandalize the place, I won't mind." Crowley calls out sarcastically. Sam ignores him, focusing on the task at hand. The bars are strong, but Sam's determination and brawn are stronger. Slowly, they give and bend themselves to Sam's will, creating enough room for Adam to squeeze his way out. Sam hops back down and offers a hand to Adam, who takes it and jumps down. Sam gingerly steps over the fire, but Adam pauses. For a moment, Sam worries that Michael is still in there and can't cross the holy fire. Then he realizes that Adam has no idea what holy fire is.
"Don't touch it directly and it won't hurt you." Dean explains. Adam takes a few steps back for a running start and leaps over the fire. He can't stick the landing and crashes to the ground, Sam grabbing him to break his fall. Sam can hear Dean breathe a sigh of relief that he made it over the flames. He helps Adam back to his feet and pulls him in for a hug. The kid earned it. Adam clings to Sam like a liferaft. Dean offers a hand to Rowena, thanking her for helping them. She says something about paying her back and Crowley demands they fix the bars Sam bent as Sam dabs at Adam's forehead with a bandana, his focus entirely on Adam. While Dean pushes the bars back into shape, Sam and Adam go to Rowena.
"Thank you." Adam whispers. Sam nods ditto. She smiles warmly.
"Always good to have a Winchester in your debt." She's being overly casual, but Sam detects a hint of underlying compassion as she turns to Adam. "Be well, boy." She offers a hand for Adam to shake, he takes it. She clasps his hand in both of hers and gives him a reassuring nod.
They arrive at the bunker after a relatively short drive, during which Adam consumed the entire cake. He's obviously exhausted and needs to recover, but he didn't sleep for a moment. He rolled down his window as far as it would go, almost breaking the crank when it wouldn't move another inch. He'd held a hand out the window just to feel the breeze. The entire ride, they were filling Adam in on major world events as well as more personal ones.
"Welcome home, Adam." Sam says gesturing towards bunker's front door as they ride past, wrapping around to the garage.
"You live... in a sewer?" He asks, perplexed. Sam and Dean both laugh.
"A bunker." Dean supplies. "If you need a place to stay, we've got like seventeen bedrooms." Dean is amazed that they actually got Adam home. They owe Rowena the biggest edible arangement on the planet. Things never go their way, but here they are with the blade and Adam back from the dead. He wonders what their dad would say about Adam taking part in the family tradition. Dean laughs out loud.
"What?" Adam asks, somewhat put off by the sudden laughter. Dean puts the car in park and turns around to face Adam.
"Nothing it's just- You've completed the Winchester initiation." Adam cocks his head to the side, not understanding but Sam chuckles. "Climbing out of Hell is practically a rite of passage for this family. Dad would be proud." Adam gives a dry laugh before all three of them get out of the car and walk towards the door. Adam marvels at the gigantic garage, all the old vehicles it houses. Dean holds the door open for the both of them to enter the kitchen. Mary sits at the kitchen table with Sam's laptop open.
"Adam, this is Mary. Mary, meet Adam. Our brother." Dean doesn't want to introduce her as his mom. Adam's own mom is still dead, and he didn't want to make him jealous. Besides, the kid has almost no knowledge of how any of this supernatural crap works and he just got back from the dead. They can overwhelm him later. His mom is appropriately stunned at the state Adam is in as Sam guides him to a chair.
"I've heard a lot about you, Adam." She says, standing up and walking towards the sink.
"You have?" Dean and Adam reply in unison as she grabs the first aid kit from beneath the sink. She nods her head and hands Sam the kit.
"Here, Sam. Show Adam to his room. I'm sorry to say I've got bad news." Dean rolls his eyes. Of course they can't enjoy any victory for more than a day.
"Is there any other kind?" Dean replies with a shrug. His mom glances at Adam, clearly unsure about sharing whatever it is she found in front of him. Dean looks at Sam and nods towards the door. Get him outta here. Sam obliges, leading Adam out of the room. Once they're out of earshot, he looks at his mom "What's up?" She turns the computer around, an article with the headline Louise and May Rooney found dead in possible chemical attack
Sam guides Adam down the hall, stopping at the door directly across from his own. Sam wants to be able to keep an eye and ear out for Adam if he needs it. He opens the door to a room that's been untouched since they'd moved in. It's dusty and the bedsheets need to be changed, but those are details. Adam sits on the bed, bouncing a bit to test it out.
"Like Dean said, you're welcome to move in. You don't need to decide anything right now, I'm sure just being alive is overwhelming." Adam nods in agreement before looking down. He points to the first aid kit, Sam hands it over and closes the door while Adam disinfects the cauterized wound on his chest. Sam decides to tag-team and tends to his head wound, cleaning and bandaging it. The kid was pre-med before all this crap happened to him. Sam wonders whether or not Adam will go back to that.
"Seven years..." Adam mumbles. "Felt like..."
"Centuries?" Sam supplies. "Yeah. Hell's weird like that. You're technically still nineteen, if you can believe it." Sam says with a half-hearted laugh. "You okay?" He asks, his gaze falling to Adam's chest wound. Sam knew exactly what Michael had done to cause it, the psychological toll that it takes. Adam chuckles darkly.
"I feel kinda... empty." Sam nods. He knows the feeling, like there's a gaping hole in your chest. It was as if Michael could slice into a person and pull out their essence, leaving only a hollow chasm behind. Good memories would lose their joy, bad ones would lose their edge. All willpower or fire would dissolve, replaced by apathy and submission. Sam used to wonder if that was something Michael did to create uncaring and unfeeling armies once upon a time.
"It'll pass. Eventually. The archangels are in a league of their own, and Michael's the toughest of them all. Sorry to put you on his bad side." Sam sits on the bed next to Adam. He doesn't want to ask but he has to know, one way or the other. "Adam, when I... when I left, what was it like down there?"
"You wanna know if they tortured me like they did you?" Adam speaks slowly, careful not to upset Sam. Sam nods. "Lucifer tried. He was bored and losing his mind like a caged animal. Michael wouldn't let him." Adam sighs. "They argued over it, like they argue over everything. Any time Lucifer came too close to hurting me, Michael took over, threw me into my mind while the two of them fought. From the glimpses I got, they both went scorched Earth on each other. But neither of them could die in the cage so it just went on and on. A neverending cycle of me resurfacing, Lucifer getting bored, then all of a sudden I'm in a dream because he's too close for Michael's comfort." Sam is grateful for that. Even if Michael is a pompous asshat, he protected Adam when Sam wasn't there. "Then Lucifer left. It was kinda boring. Michael and I replayed my entire life story like a movie. He told me stories about his brothers." Adam pauses, taking a deep breath. "Michael spent a lot of time lamenting his destiny being denied and his father leaving him in Hell but letting Lucifer leave. His temper got worse the longer we were in there, but he was never violent with me. He just screamed and lashed out at the box itself. We were friends. I don't know what the hell all that was back there, I guess you two really piss him off." Sam smiles, trying to hide his pride in that fact. "Sam.. I'm amazed that you went back there. You... does Dean know how bad it was for you?"
"We don't really talk about it. We don't really talk about Dean's time in Hell. I mean, we don't really need to." They'd both seen each other freak out. One of them would have a nightmare, they'd handle it, then never speak of it again because it (usually) wasn't a big deal. It's just a fact of life for them. Death, taxes, and PTSD. "He knows it was bad, the memories alone nearly killed me. But life goes on and sometimes you need to go to Hell to get a job done."
"How did you get out?" Adam asks, like he's been dying to know.
"It was a two-step process for me. Remember when there was that giant flash of light and I squeezed through the bars?" The feeling of his soul and body being separated was difficult to describe. He remembered the experience from both his body and his soul's perspective. They'd both felt like they were being ripped in different directions, tearing at the seams. His body felt a tremendous pressure, like it was being compressed under a ton of weight and then nothing. A burst of unspeakable pain and then absolutely nothing, no pain, no fear, no release. His soul, on the other hand, felt like it was too big for whatever his body was trying to do. Like it was overflowing. It just wouldn't fit through the cage, and so it separated with a feeling of exposed nerves and fire. He'd felt so vulnerable and afraid, he had no clue what had just occured but he knew it was bad.
"Yeah, the light calmed down and you were back in the cage like nothing happened." Adam nods.
"That was Castiel, an angel, trying to pull me out. He got my body, but left my soul. The rest of the time I was down there, my body was up here acting on its own accord. The old man you saw was Death himself. Dean somehow talked him into getting my soul back from the cage." Adam looks at Sam like he just sprouted a tail.
"Sounds like I've got some reading to do." Adam grumbles, giving Sam pause. Does Adam want in on this life?
"We got a whole library you're welcome to. If you wanna go back to school, that's great too." It's important Adam knows he has options. Sam and Dean were never given a choice in their life's trajectory, but Adam could decide for himself. None of that needed to happen right now, of course. But Adam still stands a chance at a normal life if he wants it. Adam yawns, then looks at Sam confused. Adam hasn't yawned in a really long time, he probably forgot how it felt to be tired. "Oh yeah, we should probably get you on a schedule until you get used to sleeping, eating, and all that human stuff you didn't need to think about down there." Sam's tone is casual, which throws Adam off even more.
"You put each other on schedules?" Adam asks incredulously. "How often does this happen?"
"Often enough. Welcome to the family." Sam stands up, pointing a thumb at the door. "I'm gonna bring you some clothes, my room's across the hall if you need anything." Adam nods before laying his head on the pillow.
We got him home.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! We got another case of "This was supposed to be the first part of a chapter but became its own chapter" for ya!
Chapter 7
Summary:
Well... here we are.
Chapter Text
Dean reads the article quickly, there's very little actual information. Both because of the politics and because it seemingly happened just hours ago. The president's wife and daughter were found deceased in their bedrooms with "unusual injuries consistent with a chemical weapon attack" The president is going to give a press conference later that day but will not speak to the press until then. It doesn't exactly jump out and scream Lucifer.
"What about this got your spidey senses tingling?" Dean asks, trying to understand. His mom takes over the computer and scrolls down to the bottom of the page. A picture from outside the White House of the president, Jefferson Rooney, standing tall, zipping up a body bag. The picture is taken from afar and the face is somewhat hard to make out, but it's clearly a small child. Her mouth hangs slightly open, her brown hair covering her cheek. Her eyes-oh my god. Dean zooms in on her face, almost mistaking what he sees for simple shadow. The little girl's eyes are missing, burned out leaving only blackened sockets behind. Dean rubs his face. Sammy's gonna have a heart attack. Dean scrolls the photo so it's focusing on the president's face. "That had better not be Lucifer." His mom shrugs.
"I don't know for sure, but a lead's a lead." She takes a seat across from Dean, incredibly calm for the situation.
"Oh, we are going to follow up on this one fully and completely before we try to kill the president." Dean sighs. "I'm not chomping at the bit to tell Sam about this either." Speak of the devil, Sam walks through the doorway.
"Tell Sam about what?" He asks.
"How's the kid?" Dean asks, trying to change the subject.
"Tired. What'd you find?" Sam looks at Dean expectantly. Dean takes a deep breath.
"You gonna be cool?" Dean asks, raising a brow. Sam's eyes dart between him and his mom, he shuffles his feet a bit in confusion. "Because this isn't one where we can just dive in half-cocked." Sam nods his head, his brows still together in confusion.
"Okay...? What is it?" Sam asks, taking a seat next to their mother.
"It's possible Lucifer may have jumped the president." Dean tries to gauge Sam's reaction. His eyes widen in an understanding Dean doesn't share.
"Take me to your leader," Sam repeats with disdain. Dean shrugs, sounds right. "How the hell are we supposed to get anywhere near him? Have Cas help us take down the secret service?" Dean rolls his eyes, of course Sam went straight to planning.
"All we got is a possible angel smiting of the first family, we're not going in there yet. We're not gonna get thrown in Gitmo based on a maybe, Sam." Sam seems to get lost in his head for a moment. Dean leans in, making eye contact with his brother. "You hearin' me? We get all the facts first, and your finger stays off the trigger until we know what we're doing. We can't jump the gun here." Sam nods his head, accepting Dean's conditions.
"There's a press conference later, we can watch that and see if anything kicks up." Their mom suggests.
"'Trust me I know the devil' isn't gonna be good enough this time around." Dean makes pointed eye contact with Sam. They need something solid. Though Dean has to admit, what kind of solid proof could they hope for here? Sam's phone rings, he looks at it puzzled.
"Unknown number." He mutters before answering and holding it to his ear. "Hello?" Silence as whoever called him speaks, the color drains from Sam's face and his mouth hangs slightly agape. Dean shares a worried look with his mom. Sam holds a finger to his lips, be quiet as he puts the phone on speaker.
"-the new skin. Lotta power in this one. It's a different kind of power, but I'm enjoying the perks." The man sounds jovial, almost teasing. Well, at least he's making it easy.
"Lucifer?" Sam asks for confirmation.
"That's President Lucifer to you, Sam." His voice hardens. "You're gonna listen to me this time. I've got a two thirds majority of demons in congress. We're declaring war on the nation that assassinated my loving wife and daughter. Haven't picked a scapegoat yet. Thinking maybe Russia? I don't know, I'll work that out later. But the first shot in that war will be nuclear." Dean can't help but view Lucifer as a petulent child. His grand plan is nuclear war for nuclear war's sake? That's ridiculous. Probably the weirdest apocalypse the brothers have been tasked in stopping, and that's saying something. This is a toddler's tantrum and Dean is done entertaining it.
"What's the game, man?" Dean asks, his tone tired. "Doesn't this feel a little bit stupid?"
"It's not a game, Dean." Lucifer snaps "People will pray to a god that's abandoned them. Abandoned me. He won't be able to ignore billions of voices screaming his name."
"You know we're gonna stop you, so what is this? A courtesy call?" Sam asks, an uncomfortable and confused mix of sarcasm and sincerity.
"More of a hostage negotiation. See, I can only do all that if I'm wearing this guy's skin. But Sam Winchester is a dead violent criminal, nobody'd let him anywhere near a war room." There's a tense silence, Dean studies his brother. His gaze is flitting back and forth. Dean can almost see the wheels turning, but he has no idea where that's leading him.
"Yeah, nobody'd let him near the president either." Dean grumbles under his breath, not intending for anyone in particular to hear. Sam hears and clearly it meant something to him because his neck straightens with an epiphany. Dean shrugs at his mom, both of them wondering what Sam's cooked up.
"Lemme get this straight. Either I say yes or you nuke the world? I wanted to keep you in the cage when leaving you there could've meant the end of all creation. What makes you think it'll go different this time?" Sam's tone is overly harsh. He's emphasizing and extending almost every other word. It almost feels like... acting.
"I figured the fact that neither of us are in an impenetrable prison in the deepest circle of Hell and we are both free to cause as much chaos as we want might've shifted your perspective a bit, yeah." Lucifer speaks somewhat quickly, Dean almost doesn't catch all of it.
"Shit." Sam mumbles under his breath. He pulls a notepad from his pocket and writes down something and hands it to Dean. It reads: "Sam, you can't seriously be considering this." Dean, perplexed, delivers the line as written. He thinks his performance is convincing, given how often one of them says those exact words to each other. Sam is trying to stage an argument, a plan Dean will have no trouble following. Sam gives a thumbs up and speaks into the phone.
"He's not gonna stop, Dean. My body for the world seems a pretty fair deal." Sam is being far more convincing now. He gestures small circles in the air, looking at Dean. Keep going.
"No! Hell no, Sam! We do not negotiate with terrorists." Dean gestures at his neck for emphasis, forgetting that he's not actually mad at Sam. He is dying to know where Sam's going with this.
"I'm not gonna let another apocalypse happen just because of your principles!" Sam's volume rises, and he slams a hand into the table.
"Boys..." Their mom interjects in warning.
"You wanna give Veruca what he wants just 'cuz he's throwing a tantrum? That's all this is, Sam. A child's tantrum."
"Yeah, a child's tantrum that results in billions of dead bodies and generations that will never be." Sam stands up, grinding the chair into the floor to make a loud screeching sound. "I'm calling uncle, Lucifer."
"That's what I like to hear, Sam. Come alone." Lucifer hangs up and their mother gives a confused applause. A moment later, the phone buzzes and Sam picks it up to read the message.
"He wants to meet in D.C. three days from now." Sam puts the phone back in his pocket.
"So... what're you thinking?" Dean asks, prompting Sam with a wave of his hand.
"He just gave me a way to get close to him without getting tackled and arrested." Sam answers, the use of the singular pronoun catching Dean's attention.
"You mean us." Dean clarifies, pointing between himself and Sam. It's not a question, it's a statement of fact. If Sam thinks he's doing this alone, he's lost his mind.
"I gotta go alone, he said to come alone." Sam sets his jaw. Dean is having absolutely none of this 'I gotta do it alone' BS. This is one of their riskiest schemes, no way is Dean warming the bench.
"Everyone and everything knows that if they tell one of us to come alone, the other's coming with. It's not like we're bringing Mom or Cas. I'm not leaving you alone with Lucifer ever again. End of discussion." Dean looks to his mom, hoping she'll back him up. Sam follows suit, seemingly hoping the same. She glances between her sons, her gaze settling on Sam.
"An enemy is always more scary when you know they're there but you can't see them. If you went alone, Lucifer would still assume Dean is there in the shadows. He's not stupid and he's known you long enough to figure out that Dean wouldn't let you confront him alone." She turns to Dean "The question is, do we want Lucifer to trust Sam's word or not? If we do, you should go. If we don't, you stay behind."
Dean thinks back to the last time they'd attempted a possession bait-and-switch. They'd charged in, getting roughed up by a few demons but they'd gone in together. Then he'd crashed the Apocalypse party, solely because Sam deserved to have someone in his corner present for whatever was to come. This is no different. Dean could be struck deaf and blind, he's still gonna go out of sheer solidarity. This is not up for debate. Sam sighs.
"Alright. We'd better get ready and get going. Mom, can you look after Adam while we're gone? Make sure he's eating?" Oh, right. Kid needs to readjust to being on Earth. Would've been nice to have some time with him before we need to jet, but there's no rest for the Winchesters.
"Yeah, of course. Call me when you're on your way back." She answers, emphasizing the last word heavily. She embraces Sam first, then Dean. She hugs them tight and holds it longer than Dean is used to. She's worried this is goodbye Dean realizes just before she lets him go.
"See you later, Mom." Dean says, reassuring her that there will be a later.
They don't stop on the drive for any longer than it takes to gas up, pee, and switch seats. One drives while the other sleeps, so the conversation dried up pretty quickly. The final leg of this journey goes to Sam, Dean passed out to his right with a half empty bag of pork rinds in his lap. Sam's right leg is somewhat numb, the archangel blade tucked in his waistband keeping his thigh somewhat stiff and immobile. Sam tries to focus on the nighttime drive, choosing not to dwell on the fact that every mile marker they pass brings them closer to Lucifer. In his efforts to distract himself, his mind somehow wanders to the last time they'd walked up to Lucifer's front door with the promise of possession. The worst possible distraction, but brains are weird. He'd charged in with gusto, dragging a concerned Dean along. Sam had been so.. confident then. He'd felt so sure. A feeling he lacks now. One he sorely misses. They just gotta hope Lucifer doesn't somehow know about the blade. As he pulls off at the exit, he nudges Dean.
"Hey, wake up. We're almost there." Dean groans a bit, still somewhat bleary-eyed.
"Alright" Dean rubs his face before rolling up the bag of pork rinds, putting them under the seat. "You ready for this?"
"Born ready." Sam answers simply. He doesn't want to think too hard or too much. It should be as simple as stabbing Lucifer in the chest and then fleeing the scene. Sam can't afford to worry about any other possible outcomes.
He drives the Impala into the alleyway that Lucifer had selected. True to his word, the President waits just ahead. As they pull in, he throws his hands up in a gesture of "what the hell?" and says something Sam can't hear from inside the car. Sam scans the area, looking up at the windows of the two tall buildings above them. He doesn't see any demons, secret servicemen, or demons inside secret servicemen. But just because Sam can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there. It must've rained recently, the alleyway is wet and the dumpsters on either side reek of standing water. Both brother slowly walk towards the archangel in silence until they are at a comfortable conversation distance. Sam wants to keep going, to just charge in with the blade and not give Lucifer the satisfaction of a discussion. But Lucifer holds up a hand for them to stop.
"That's far enough. I told you to come alone." He speaks with an authority Sam hasn't heard from Lucifer in what feels like decades. It's not the first time he's used this tone, but it's definitely the most effective. Guess the president just has one of those voices.
"Chang can't go anywhere without Eng. We didn't bring anyone with us." Dean responds impatiently. Lucifer responds with a fake sheepish grin, like an HR executive explaining why a comment was innapropriate.
"Sorry Dean, but we're not looking for a third." With a wave of his hand, Lucifer sends Dean flying into the dumpster on Sam's right. Sam isn't too worried at first until he realizes Dean hasn't popped back up. He turns his head, seeing Dean's chest rising and falling though his eyes are closed. I'll go to him once this is done. Sam slowly walks towards the archangel, the blade still concealed in his waistband. Lucifer also closes the gap, roughly grabbing Sam by the left arm. "Can I come in?" All it takes is a second, Sam draws the blade and drives it into Lucifer's heart until he feels it exit the other side of his vessel. Lucifer's eyes flash red and he cries out in pain as Sam twists and pulls it back out of him. To Sam's surprise, Lucifer remains standing. Angel blades usually kill pretty quick, what's gone wrong? Sam stares at the weapon in his hand, coated in blood up to the hilt. Lucifer's pained response slowly morphs into a laugh as he knits his skin back together.
"Nice one, Sam. You... you really got me this time, didn't you?" He lets out a breath with a "whoo!" Sam is stunned into inaction. "Is that Mikey's blade? I don't even wanna imagine the hoops you had to jump through to get that. I guess Michael didn't tell you that an archangel blade can only be used by whoever it belongs to." He sucks in a breath, his mouth forming an apologetic grin. "Yeah, Dad didn't want random angels or...humans getting high and mighty thinking they could kill us. But A for effort, Sam. I mean it." Shitshitshitshitshit I'm so royally screwed. "Anyway, I learned something new. If we attack literally any country in this special country club," He snaps his fingers, causing Sam to flinch though it seems to be more for emphasis than a power demonstration. "Instant world war. Radiation poisoning spanning the globe. Mutations, cancers, instant incineration so complete shadows are burned into the ground like angel wings. And best of all? Absolutely nothing the Winchesters can do to stop it."
That last sentence snaps Sam out of his shock. There is one thing a Winchester could do to stop it. It's not gonna be pleasant and Dean's probably going to actually kill him for it. But it would save lives. Could he though? Subject himself to reliving the worst thing that had ever happened to him? He grits his teeth, considering his options. If this ends with Lucifer flapping in the wind wearing Sam, at least Sam is someone who would be arrested on sight and doesn't have massive political power. But there's also an alternative. What if... what if Sam can contain Lucifer? Lock him inside his head? He knows there's a way to lock an angel down, Dean had attempted it with Gadreel. He'd just have to win the initial tug of war. Granted, Sam is 0:1 in that arena but he's gotten a lot stronger since his first possession. There is no good solution here, it's a massive risk no matter what they do. Sam knows Dean would be yelling at him for even considering it, and he doesn't want to disappoint his brother. On the one hand, he can say yes and save millions or billions of lives but on the other hand... no. There is no other hand.
"Fine." He spits. Lucifer looks somewhat taken aback.
"What?"
"Yes."
The last thing Sam sees is Lucifer grinning as a bright light emanates from his chest. He's overtaken by the sensation of drowning in an empty space, trying to "swim" through all the nothing to the top of his mind. Fighting the heaviness that threatens to sink him down further. He moves as fast as he can, though it doesn't feel like he's moving an inch. He knows he is though because the closer he gets to the surface, the more aware of his body and his surroundings he becomes. Sight returns blurry at first. His hand is on the ground, steadying Lucifer who has been brought to his knees. Clearly whatever Sam is doing is giving the son of a bitch some trouble.
"Shhh... Shh... goodnight Sammy." He hears own voice coo at him, slightly muffled but clear enough to understand. He disregards it entirely and keeps pushing, trying to reach the surface.
"Dean!" he cries out of sheer habit, though he doesn't hear it being repeated from the outside.
"He'll be just fine without you." A lie, though Sam can't be sure whether or not Lucifer believes it. The voice is a lot clearer this time, he must be getting closer. Lucifer does make the mistake of looking in Dean's direction, allowing Sam to catch a glimpse. Dean is still out cold, completely unaware of just how far left this plan went. It gets a lot easier to keep going when he imagines it as racing towards Dean rather than just resurfacing. He keeps going, getting closer to his brother. His eyes also get a lot closer to Dean as he feels Lucifer slowly walking towards him. "Cut that out, Sam. You don't want me anywhere near him." I'm controlling my legs! Sam realizes with excitement. He keeps pushing, relentless and determined. Once he gets to the surface, Lucifer won't have control anymore. At least for now. The signal fuzzes better into focus and Sam can see Dean's breathing. He puts all of his effort into kneeling before his brother, in the process finally breaking through to the other side and seizing complete control. He opens and closes his hands a few times just to check, exhausted and breathing heavily. Now that he's in control, Lucifer is deep in that well and is trying to break free. Sam has to make an active effort to supress him and ignore his screams. He knows that until he can figure out something more permanent this fight will be continuous. If he tires or gives even a single inch, Lucifer will break to the surface and Sam will have to climb his way up from the bottom again. Likely leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. A Herculean task, but not impossible. Sam knows he is no longer allowed to have any weakness whatsoever, any chink in the armor for Lucifer to grip onto. He refocuses and pats on Dean's shoulder, trying to rouse him.
"Dean? Dean! Hey, hey, hey, Dean you gotta wake up we gotta get outta here." The back of Dean's head hurts something awful as he groggily opens his eyes to see his brother. Sam pats the spot where it hurts, Dean winces slightly but he quickly realizes the pain is gone, leaving warmth in its place. Weird, but he's recovered faster from worse injuries before. "Come on." Sam helps Dean stand up. His vision is still swimming when he sees Lucifer's vessel dead on the ground about twenty feet away. His shirt is torn, but there are no injuries Dean can see. At least not from this distance.
"Is it...?" He asks, tentatively. Dean needs to know Lucifer didn't just burn him out or leave him.
"Kind of. I need to-" Sam starts, before cutting himself off. He turns his head away from Dean and shuts his eyes hard. When he turns back, he lets go of Dean.
"What? You need to what?" Dean prompts.
"Nothing. I'll explain how it went down on the way. Let's go." They get in the Impala and drive off. Sam immediately launches into an explanation. "After he uh... knocked you out... he grabbed me. Gave me an opening. I stabbed him clean through. You shoulda seen it, Dean. It was incredible." Sam speaks with the inflection of a child who just saw an amazing movie. He shows Dean the blade, bloodied to the hilt. Dean is slightly unnerved by how much Sam seems to have enjoyed it. Pot meet kettle. Dean chastises himself. Still weird to see Sam so... fired up about a killing. Dean makes eye contact with Sam, he seems almost high. Dean chalks it up to this one having... sentimental value. "He was stoic about it, but I surprised him. He flickered out and boom, dead body on the ground." Dean cocks his head.
"Wait.. how is that 'kind of' over? Sounds pretty much over to me."
"Oh yeah. It's definitely over." Sam grins.
Sam resurfaces just as they pull into the garage. From the bits and pieces he caught of the ride home, Lucifer had stayed pretty silent. Careful not to give the game away to Dean. Though... why Lucifer didn't just immediately take off inside of Sam is anybody's guess. Sam has to warn Dean, this isn't something he can keep hidden.
"Dean, I-" He starts. But he's cut off when his mouth simply won't cooperate, slamming itself shut.
"No way, Sam. This is too much fun." He hears in his head. Lucifer has taken partial control. "Let's see if Dean is smart enough to work it out on his own, huh?"
"What?" Dean asks. Sam tries again but nothing happens, his jaw locked in place. "What, Sam?" Nothing. Sam will have to get clever if he wants to tell Dean, something he just can't do right now.
"Nothing. Just... thank you for having my back." Sam pats his brother on the shoulder, a gesture of comfort. And apology. Dean looks puzzled.
"Okay, weirdo. C'mon, Mom's waiting." Together, they walk back into their home. Sam can feel Lucifer's eyes scanning the building, clearly he can see and hear what's going on. Sam needed to find a way to keep him down. After a quick hug and hello to his mom, Sam beelines to the library to find Kevin's notes. It's tough, splitting his mental attention between surpressing Lucifer and actively searching. All his best efforts only manage to keep Lucifer from progressing upwards, rather than pushing him further down. He gathers every single piece of paper Kevin ever touched and starts scanning the chicken scratch he left behind while pacing the floor. Sam almost doesn't notice Adam entering the library.
"Well, now I know where you got the blade from." Lucifer chuckles inside Sam's head. Shut up.
"Hey, Sam. How'd it go?" He asks. Sam simply nods in response, not trusting his tongue to obey him. "That bad, huh?" He gives Adam a quizzical look. Is it really that obvious? He smiles at his brother, an attempt at correction.
"No, no. Dean got knocked out and the president's dead." Sam hopes his careful wording is enough to prevent suspicion and keep Lucifer from coming up.
"And Lucifer?" Shit. Sam tries to come up with a response that will placate everyone involved in this particular conversation, his anxiety gives Lucifer an opening.
"Dead." Sam hears his voice say. He immediately returns to supressing a screaming Lucifer. Adam keeps speaking, but Sam can't afford to pay any mind to what he's saying. He grips the chair in front of him to steady himself, a wave of vertigo threatening to take him to the floor as Lucifer rages against his psyche. He keeps screaming in Sam's head, never pausing or stopping for breath he doesn't need. Sam eventually recovers enough to stand up, though Lucifer continues his tantrum in the background. Sam returns his focus to Adam, whose hand is on his shoulder.
"PTSD thing?" Adam asks. Sam nods, grateful for the easy explanation. Adam nods his head towards the journals Sam has assembled on the table. "Research project? Can I help?" Sam weighs his options, it definitely would help to have another set of eyes. But how could Sam explain this one to Adam? Would he even need to? Sam decides it's worth the risk and nods his head.
"A while back, we knew this kid. Kevin. He was a prophet, able to read the word of God. He found this... symbol. A sigil. I'll teach you how those work later, but this one could be used to surpress an angel. Let the human take control. Kevin ran on caffeine pills and panic, so his notetaking wasn't the best. I'm having a hard time finding it." Sam explains, taking a seat. Adam goes to the other side of the table and sits across from Sam. He grabs a book at random and starts scanning it. Sam does the same, though he's working at about half his usual pace. They decide to make it a race, whoever finds it owes the other a beer. They read together in silence for the most part, aside from the occasional Q&A when something piques Adam's interest. It takes almost two hours, but in the end it's Sam who owes Adam a beer.
"Found it!" He announces, spinning a brown leather journal towards Sam. Sam catches it and quickly scans the pages. He smiles, grateful for the spot of hope.
"How about I do a little demonstration on how sigils work?" Sam offers. Adam shrugs his shoulders.
"Why not?" Though he's trying to seem nonchalant, Sam can see Adam's excitement. He's the kind of person who wants to know everything about everything, so of course he'd take any opportunity to see how something works.
"Follow me." Sam rises from his chair and leads Adam to his room, closing the journal with his finger keeping his place. Once they're both inside, Sam closes his door and sets the journal down on his dresser, trying to commit the sigil to memory. If this works he's gonna need this one a lot. "You're not squemish, are you?" Sam asks. Adam shakes his head. Sam pulls his knife from his back pocket and slides it across his left palm. It's easier to hold the "paint" if you can cup your hand around it. Lucifer seems to recognize what's happening and quickens his ascent, lashing out inside of Sam's head. Sam paints the sigil on the wall above his dresser as quickly as he can, his right hand developing a tremor as Lucifer tries to stop him. It's a race, and this time Sam is faster. He doesn't waste time explaining what he's doing to Adam. The instant the painting is done, Sam slams his hand in the center of it. It burns to life and Lucifer suddenly quiets and stills. Sam takes a deep breath, letting the relief wash over him.
"What'd that do?" Adam asks.
"Absolutely nothing, Sam." Lucifer says in his head. "Nothing permanant, anyway. I'm still here."
"Nothing. Just a demonstration of how to do a sigil, in case you need to." Sam explains, grabbing a first aid kid from under his bed and bandaging his hand. An alarm goes off in Adam's pocket.
"It's late, I should get to bed." Adam explains. "Goodnight, Sam."
"Goodnight."
"You know... you can't do this forever, Sam." Lucifer again. Sam tries to ignore him. "Unless..." A flavor floods his mouth, metallic and sulfiric. Sam's breathing quickens, what is happening? It's so strong Sam spits just to make sure nothing red comes out. Sure enough, nothing but clear saliva. What is Lucifer's angle here? "You just aren't strong enough on your own. Sweet dreams."
Chapter 8
Summary:
Sam learns that housing the devil tends to come with consequences. Dean is more confused than a concussed toddler in a college math class.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam wakes up (or rather, comes to) in his bedroom standing in front of his dresser. He's got the mother of all hangovers going on, though he doesn't think he drank anything the night before. He clenches and unclenches his hands, just to test if he can. To his surprise, they feel sticky and crusty. He looks down at them, horrified to discover they're covered in blood. Absolutely caked in it. Sam has a strong stomach, but this is unsettling enough to make him feel ill. What the hell?
"Angels don't sleep, Sam." Lucifer singsongs in his head. Sam ignores him, grabbing his knife and cutting himself on the shoulder (just about everywhere else is covered in someone else's blood) to paint the suppression sigil and slamming himself into the wall to activate it. He shuffles towards the bathroom, feeling like he might keel over every time he takes a step. As soon as he makes it to the bathroom, he locks the door and turns to face the mirror. His previously gray t-shirt and sweatpants are coated in dark red and brown. Whatever he did last night, someone is dead because of it. A sudden wave of nausea hits Sam like a truck, he nearly collapses onto the toilet, emptying his stomach into it. Once the gagging stops, he gets up and showers. He keeps his eyes closed the entire time, not wanting to know just how much blood is flowing down the drain. He opens his eyes after a few minutes, just to check. Sam is satisfied to see the water flowing clear. He gets out, dries off, and dresses himself in a white t-shirt and a red long sleeved shirt. Clearly, whatever Sam is doing to contain Lucifer isn't working. He needs to step up his game. He drags himself out to the car, unsteady on his feet. Keeping Lucifer down is already taking a toll on his mind and body. He needs to find something better. He opens the trunk and retrieves the handcuffs, slapping them on his wrists and pulling his sleeves down to cover them. He then grabs a bottle of holy oil before returning to his room. He pushes his bed about two feet out from the wall, to allow space for a ring of holy fire if and when he needs it.
"You're no fun, Sam." Lucifer complains. Sam ignores him once again, Lucifer responds in anger. "How about I give you a recap of what we did last night?" Sam is thrown into a vision. He sees an older woman wearing a wimple. He watches his hands grip the sides of her head, the fabric slipping around under his fingers. He feels himself squeezing, hears her shrieking until her head implodes on itself, covering his hands in blood and grey matter. Her skull cuts his thumb open, but he feels no pain. The woman's eyes pop out of her head and fall to the floor, Sam's gaze falling to them and he watches his foot rise and crush them into the ground. He feels Lucifer's sick joy in the carnage, but recognizes that it isn't his own. The screams of women he hadn't realized were also in the room imbed themselves in his memory. Sam finally notices the room they're in, a large stained glass image of Jesus on the cross behind a pulpit. As soon as it's over, Sam falls to the floor with the sheer weight of his failure. He's already tiring and weakened by being Lucifer's vessel less than thirty-six hours in. How many more will die? The handcuffs are staying on and he needs to stay home, far away from anyone.
Once Dean is dressed and ready for the day, he heads to Adam's room and knocks on the door. A conversation is long overdue, and had they not been interupted by the devil it would've already happened.
"Adam? You up?" He calls. A moment later, the door opens.
"Yeah, what's up?" He answers, stepping back to let Dean in.
"We gotta talk about a game plan. You're free to stay here no matter what, you're family and that means something to us. You have options, kid. If you wanna live a normal life, you can." Adam sighs, considering Dean's words. He shakes his head.
"No. I can't. Dean, everyone I knew thinks I'm dead. I went to Hell possessed by an archangel. There is no normal after that." Dean looks down, ashamed. None of this should have happened, Adam took a bullet for him and for the world. But unlike Sam, he never realized what was going on.
"I'm sorry about all that, kid. Really." It's as heartfelt as Dean can make it, but Dean doesn't want to linger on that too long and gets back on track. "You might be right though. Like it or not, you're John Winchester's son." Adam chuckles at that. "Why don't you check out our library? Everything you could ever hope to know about things that go bump in the night." Adam nods.
"I looked through some stuff while you guys were out, and I'm already an angel expert courtesy of Michael." Dean can't help but feel a little bit proud of Adam for studying, though he has to admit he was hoping this conversation would result in Adam returning to school. "I gotta be prepared, right?" Dean gives a half smile, Adam's right but Dean wishes he wasn't.
"Yeah. Lemme know if there are any burning questions, okay?" Adam nods silently, no questions right now. Dean heads towards the kitchen for some breakfast. He immediately notices Sam, sitting still as the dead at the table with his hands in his lap staring at nothing.
"Morning." Dean greets, getting no response from Sam. He waves a hand in front of Sam's face. "Hey, ET, time to phone home." Sam finally looks at him.
"Yeah. Didn't sleep great." He mutters. Dean shrugs, he assumed that was the case.
"I know. I saw you sleepwalking. Haven't done that since you were a kid." Dean chuckles. Sam snaps out of whatever trance he was in, suddenly alert.
"You saw me sleepwalking? What did I do?" Sam speaks with an urgency that confuses Dean, sleepwalking isn't exactly something to be afraid of.
"Nothing, man. You walked past my room, then turned around. I figured you just went back to bed." Dean shrugs as a form of punctuation. Sam seems to be thinking deeply about... whatever goes on in his head. Their mom walks in, dressed in the clothes she'd bought her first day back. She smiles at them from the doorway.
"I found something that could be a case. A convent near Topeka, five nuns were found in the chapel with their heads splattered everywhere. Cattle mutilations and massive storms nearby too. Thinking demons?" She suggests. Sam perks up a bit but quickly relaxes back into his chair.
"Demons in a church?" Sam asks. "I don't know, could just be a local psycho."
"Worth checking out." Dean replies.
"I don't know Dean. I'm not feeling so hot, you and Mom can take this one." Sam's voice is quiet and he studies his shoes. Dean reaches a hand out and feels Sam's forehead, knocking their mom's out of the air when she tries to do the same thing. Sam gives a half-hearted laugh at the display of maternal affection.
"You don't have a fever. What's going on?" Dean asks.
"I'm just not feeling up to it." Dean is confused, they don't really ever let colds keep them bedridden.
"So take an advil. Topeka's not too far from here. Demon in a church doesn't sound fun to you?" Dean insists.
"Dean..." His mom's eyes are stern. Dean really just needs to go on a normal hunt with his brother. Sam seems fine, and if he's not they'll deal with it. Sam just shakes his head, closing his eyes tight. His posture straightens, he seems to come to his senses.
"Yeah, you're right." Sam replies once he opens his eyes. "Let's go." When Sam stands up, Dean notices the handcuffs around his wrists.
"What's that about?" He asks, pointing to them. Sam holds them up like he hadn't noticed it himself.
"Oh, I uh.. did that in my sleep. I didn't wanna wake you up for the keys." Wake me up?
"They're in the glovebox where they always are, you know that Sam." Dean points out, his voice soft with confusion. Together, they walk out to the car and Dean unlocks the cuffs, putting both them and the key back in the glovebox. Sam takes a sudden deep breath.
"Dean.. I really don't think I should go. Take Mom, have fun." Sam rushes to get the words out. What is with him today?
"Uh-uh, no takebacks. Get in the car." Dean responds. Sam sighs, but obliges his brother nonetheless.
Sam spends the entire drive worried about getting arrested. He knows he can't go to the scene of the crime. Then again, would being behind bars be the worst thing ever?
"You think the American prison industrial complex could hold me? I know you're not that stupid, Sam." Lucifer chuckles. Right, I'm not even alone in my own fucking head. Taking things minute-by-minute, Sam needs to figure out something to do that isn't speak to the nuns. He's not sure he'd be able to handle their terror and he won't be able to control what comes out of it.
"How about we split up? I'll take the morgue, you take the convent?" Sam suggests. Dean nods casually, like this is a regular hunt. For Dean, this is a regular hunt. Still, Sam's happy to avoid an argument for now. He knows once everything comes out there's gonna be hell to pay, and Sam is quite frankly too damn tired for that right now.
"Alright. I'm stopping for a coffee, we get changed and get going." Sam nods, grateful for the detour and delay. A few minutes later, Dean pulls into a gas station. He pulls his suit from the trunk and goes in, Sam stays in the car. He pulls his journal out, flipping to a random blank page. He understands that his current...situation is unsustainable and things will come to a boiling point (if they haven't already) and he wants to leave something behind to explain himself if... when... IF that happens. He's not sure who he's writing to when he starts, most likely Dean. He writes somewhat frantically.
"Lu" He's barely gotten the first two letters on the page before his pen darts left and right of its own accord, scratching out what he's written. Sam tries again, this time the random scribbles forming a pentagram.
"Very funny, cut it out." Sam orders, not really expecting it to work. He tries a new approach. "I am po" He starts, the pen finishing his sentence for him. "possibly going insane." Sam rips the page out, crumples it up, and tosses it out the window in frustration. Fine, guess I'll be vague. "Dean, if you're reading this, something has gone wrong and you're trying to put the pieces together. I made a choice. I knew the risks but I figured I could handle the consequences. As I'm writing this, I still think I have a chance. But it's important to leave something behind in case I" Sam pauses, not sure how to phrase this. In case he dies? Kills someone they love? Disappears? "am wrong. I'm unable to put to paper exactly what I did, but I trust if things have gotten to the point where you're reading my journal for answers you've put some of it together. I wish I was able to tell you but I do not have complete control over myself anymore. I hate feeling like I'm lying to you. I'm trying to contain him" The last sentence gets scratched out, so Sam takes a different approach. "I'm trying my best to keep a lid on things. I'm sorry for whatever unintended consequences come from my failure. I was only trying to help, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions and it seems that's where we're headed. I don't know the future, but if I'm still around when you're reading this you gotta lock me down. If I'm not, please don't hate me. Stop me." Sam then get an idea, a possible clue he could leave. He draws the angel suppression sigil on the bottom of the page.
"Cute art project, Sam." Lucifer says. Sam sighs, closing the book and putting it under the seat. He gets out of the car and gets his one and only suit out of the trunk. He quickly changes in the passenger's seat and tosses the clothes he was wearing in the backs just as Dean leaves the gas station carrying his own clothes in one hand and a drink carrier in the other. Sam gratefully takes the coffee he's offered, mumbling a thank you. The morgue is around the corner from the gas station, and in the two minutes it takes to get there Sam has finished the entire cup. He gets out of the car without a word, checking his badge to get the name straight. James Page. Sure, it doesn't really matter. He walks up to the receptionist, a woman around college age who seems incredibly bored. He shows her the badge.
"Hi, I'm here to take a look at the nuns?" He mumbles. She eyes him up and down suspiciously.
"Ooo, she's onto us, Sam." Lucifer teases.
"One second." She makes a phone call that Sam pays no mind to. He simply doesn't have the mental energy to focus on anything that doesn't matter. Sam devotes his energy to trying to bind Lucifer, if he can't move he can't take control. It doesn't seem to be working. A minute later, an older woman comes out and offers Sam a hand to shake with a smile. He takes it.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Anderson. I didn't know we'd get the FBI on this." She says, leading Sam further into the building.
"I'm just here to find out if there's a connection between this and a case in Idaho." Sam lies with conviction, putting in more effort than he managed with the receptionist.
"Well, the cause of death is pretty obvious. But I don't understand who could do that." She opens a door to a room with body refridgerators lining the walls. She pulls one out. "There's no debris from any murder weapon. I was expecting cinderblocks or something. This wasn't just a blow to the head, their skulls were all crushed." She continues, pulling open four more drawers. Sam looks at the first one. Despite the lack of a head, he recognizes the hands as the older woman he saw before.
"Would you mind getting me the autopsy reports for these women?" Sam asks. He wants to know these women's names. The coroner nods her head and leaves him alone. He moves on from the first woman and goes to the second. Her skin makes her seem younger than the first, though not by much. Lucifer volunteers information, showing Sam this woman's death.
A woman, mid-40s if Sam had to guess, with dark eyes and tan skin is kneeling before him, hands clasped in a praying position. She's rushing through prayers faster than Sam can understand it. Sam feels himself kneel to eye level. "Still going at it, aren't you? When will you people learn? He doesn't care about you." Sam's voice sounds mockingly sympathetic, an unnatural tone for him. Sam watches his hands grab her by the face and push her back, his hand crashing into the floor as though her head weren't even there. Blood and brain spray out underneath. He wipes his hand across his grey t-shirt, doing a poor job of cleaning the blood from it.
Sam doesn't want to know more. He doesn't want to see it. Still he is faced with unbidden flashes of blood and gore, moving too quickly for him to process any of it. It feels like it's happening here and now, though Sam knows it's all over. "Maybe if you believe harder? Maybe then he'll save you?" He hears his own voice say. A scream. A splat. A woman, a girl really, cries out for her parents. Lucifer laughs and shows her no mercy. It takes everything Sam's got to stay vertical dealing with wave after wave of horrifying scenes from his own point of view. I really fucked up here. I'm not... I'm not strong enough. Once it's all over, Sam is sweaty and on the verge of passing out. He knows he can't pass out, Lucifer would be free to do whatever he wants the second Sam falls over. He grips the table in front of him, trying to stop his feet from swaying. He looks at his hands and finds himself surprised to see that they're clean. Lucifer shows Sam one final image. A survivor. A young woman wearing a novice uniform. She looks at him from about twenty feet away, terror in her eyes. But Lucifer simply smiled at her. There's a witness. Dean is about to be told someone who looks just like me killed these people. Sam isn't sure if that thought brings relief or panic. He'd been losing his mind trying to warn his family, this is a bloody way to do it but it gets the job done.
Dean walks straight through the front door to the chapel, just as services seem to be concluding. The tan carpet towards the front of the room is stained, a red rug placed at an awkward angle to cover up as much as possible though dried blood peeks out at the edges. The windows are stained glass, depicting various scenes from the Bible. The image at the back is Jesus on the cross. Dean hangs back, not wanting to interupt the women's worship. The woman leading the service notices him, he gives a small wave, encouraging her to carry on. The service is being conducted in Latin, a language Dean doesn't speak. There are about a dozen women sitting in burned pews, repeating lines in perfect unison.
Once the service has ended, the woman who led it approaches Dean. He pulls his badge out and presents it to her.
"Agent Young. Come to ask a few questions about the uh.. the attack on your congregation." She shakes his hand.
"Rebecca. I'm glad you're here. You'll want to speak to Sister Julia, I spent the whole morning giving counsel. She's shaken to the core by it all." She explains, and leads Dean to the front of the room where a young woman sits, staring silently ahead.
"Sister Julia, this is Agent Young. He needs you to tell him about the man you saw." Ok so we're definitely dealing with something that looks human. That doesn't narrow it down at all. Julia shakes her head.
"No man could do that." She whispers. Dean turns to Rebecca.
"Sister, is there somewhere more private we can have this conversation?" He asks, concerned for the young woman's mental welbeing. She nods her head, and leads them through a door at the back of the chapel to what looks to be an office. It's sparesly furnished with only the bare essentials, the only decoration being a small cactus resting on a bookshelf. There are two chairs in front of the desk, Dean gestures to one and Julia takes a seat. Dean turns back to Rebecca. "Thank you for your assistance, Sister." She nods her head and leaves. Dean takes the seat next to Julia, not wanting the distance the desk would cause. "Can you tell me what happened?" He asks.
"I already told the police." She says.
"I know, but can you tell me?"
"What I saw... it's impossible." She whispers.
"Impossible things happen every day. Trust me, I'll believe whatever you tell me." He mimics her body language, leaning slightly forward in an attempt to convince her to trust him. She sighs.
"It was still dark out, around three in the morning. I was in the kitchen, getting started on breakfast when I heard a man's voice screaming from the chapel. I made my way there, hiding in the doorway."
"What did he say?" Dean asks.
"A lot of stuff. The yelling that got my attention was 'Your devotion.' I think I was catching just the end of the sentence. I get there, and he's standing in front of the Mother Superior, Sister Louise, Sister Helen, Sister Mary, and Sister Katherine. He ordered them to pray. Pray for their lives. Pray for God to spare them. So they did. He started mocking them for it, saying their faith would never be rewarded. He said God is dead but he was here. Then he grabbed the Mother Superior and.." She cuts herself off, breaking down in tears. Dean grabs a tissue box from the desk and hands it to her, she takes one and wipes her face. "He crushed her skull with his bare hands. She screamed. My God... why would someone do that?" She whispers the question, and looks to Dean like she's genuinely expecting an answer. Dean doesn't really have one, so she continues. "He yelled for everyone else to keep praying. Sister Katherine didn't, she looked too shocked. He asked her why she stopped. He accused her of losing faith. She shook her head. He said if she believed harder God might save her, then he did the same thing to her. He laughed and said 'maybe not,' He just kept.. killing all of them. I stayed behind the door, I should've done something but I was frozen in place." Dean doesn't really know what to make of this, it's possible this was a human nutjob. But crushing a skull is not exactly an easy task for human hands. Dean doesn't know what to say to comfort her, so he sticks to business.
"Did you get a good look at him?" He asks. She nods.
"Once it was all over. He.. smiled at me. I thought he'd kill me, but he just walked out the front door. The bibles in the pews caught fire as he passed them. You can check it yourself if you don't believe me." She rushes out the last sentence, clearly someone has doubted her. Dean nods.
"I do believe you. What did he look like?"
"The police made a sketch of him, I'm sure you can ask them for it."
"I'll be sure to do that. I got some questions that might be a little weird. What color were his eyes?" Dean asks.
"I was too far from him to get a good look at his eye color, why would that be a weird question?" She cocks her head in confusion. Dean chuckles a bit, asking a suspect's eye color is normal. Asking if his eyes were all black, not so much.
"It's not. Were there any weird smells?" He asks. She shakes her head.
"Just the scrambled eggs I was making." Great, so no way to tell the difference between demons and breakfast. Awesome. "Why?"
"Chemical weapons." Dean blurts out. "Nevermind. Thank you, you've been very helpful." He pulls out a business card and hands it to her. "If you remember anything else, no matter how crazy it seems, give me a call."
Once he's outside, Dean calls Sam. Demons in a church, who would've thought?
"Hey." Sam answers.
"Hey. Definitely something weird going on, I just talked to the witness and it sounds demonic. It set the Bibles on fire. Question is who and why."
"Yeah. Listen man, I really think we should go home." Sam sounds dead tired. Dean has had enough of whatever the hell is going on.
"What is with you today? You never throw in the towel and this is a pretty basic demon hunt." Dean's tone is accusatory, a sudden burst of anger.
"Come get me, we'll compare notes and then you can decide if we go home." Sam says before hanging up. Dean shrugs, assuming Sam has found something that makes this case personal. That's the only reason he'd freak out at a regular hunt. Dean, for one, is glad to get a regular day on the job for the first time in a long time. Crisis was averted, now he gets to hunt like a normal hunter.
Sam waits for Dean outside the coroner's office, flipping through the autopsy reports. He doesn't really need them, he just wanted to know who these women were. Their deaths are on his head. Helen Gallagher's report lay open. There isn't a picture of what she looked like before, why would there be, but Sam remembers her green eyes watering as she screamed the Lord's Prayer louder than the other women. "Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?" Sam asks Lucifer inside his head.
"What ISN'T in it for me? Calling your bluff, calling the old man out, showing humans that he doesn't deserve their praise, and killing them at the same time? Best of all worlds over here." Sam doesn't really have a rebuttel for that.
"And how exactly are you planning on spinning this to Dean? He's not stupid, you know. He knows I wouldn't do this."
"That is up to you, my friend. I suggest you come up with something good. And fast, he's here." Sam looks up, not having noticed the Impala pulling up beside him. Sam put the folder under his arm and climbs in. Without a word, he opens the glovebox and cuffs himself.
"Okay.. why are you handcuffing yourself again? You got a fetish or something?" Dean asks, laughing a bit.
"Shut up and take me to the convent." Sam orders. He knows any explanation he tries to give will be unsuccessful. But he also knows someone in the convent will be able to tell Dean what Sam can't.
"Why?" Dean asks, suddenly serious.
"I can't tell you. I need to show you." Sam says quietly. Dean pulls off, headed towards the convent, probably assuming Sam found something on the bodies. "When we get there, move the cuffs behind my back and introduce me to the witness as a suspect." Dean slams on the breaks in the middle of the road. The car comes to a hard stop, a car honks behind Dean but he pays no mind to it. Not the reaction Sam was expecting.
"Why the hell would I do that, Sam? We're looking for a demon."
"In a church? How likely does that sound?" Sam asks.
"I'd say more likely than you being a suspect. What is this about?" Dean asks, a harshness to his voice. Sam knows Dean is getting frustrated, he feels the same way.
"I can't tell you." Sam replies honestly, but this just pisses Dean off.
"Why the hell not?!" Dean demands.
"I've been trying to tell you. But every time I do, my mouth just.. stops working. Because of-" Right on cue, his mouth closes. Sam gestures towards it, trying to tell Dean he's not doing it. That he's not in control. Dean's features soften and turn to confusion. "I physically can't say what's going on. Trust me, I've been trying." Sam is surprised that Lucifer let him get that out, but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
"But you know what's happening?" Dean asks, seeming to finally get that there's something more serious going on here. Sam nods, breaking eye contact and looking at his shoes. He's not sure he can take the fear and confusion he sees in Dean's eyes for another second.
"Just... drive." Sam mutters. This day has been entirely too long and Sam really needs to recover.
The first thought that came to Dean's mind is that there's some kind of hex going on. Dean knows there are spells that bind someone to secrecy, preventing them from speaking about certain things. But when and why would that have happened? The second thought that comes to Dean's mind is somehow demonic possession. All a demon would need to do is somehow mess up Sam's tattoo. A simple sharpie could open Sam up to it. The third thought that enters Dean's mind is Sam is simply having some kind of mental health crisis. That he's completely capable of clueing Dean in but something inside of him doesn't want to. Whatever it is, Dean is thoroughly freaked. Dean parks the car in front of the convent. Sam reaches for the passenger door, but Dean stops him.
"Before you do that..." He reaches into the console and pulls out a flask of holy water. Sam nods and closes his eyes, understanding that Dean's gotta check. Dean splashes Sam with it. Sam wipes his face but is otherwise completely unaffected. Sam reaches into the console and gingerly picks up a silver dagger by the blade without a word. Nothing happens. Sam takes the keys out of the glovebox, unlocks his left wrist, and gets out of the car. Dean meets him on the other side and recuffs him behind his back. He leads Sam up the stairs, keeping both hands on him. It feels truly ridiculous to be doing a perp walk with his brother, if the circumstances were any less terrifying he'd find it hilarious. Sam stops just short of the front door. "You okay?" Dean asks.
"Not even a little bit." Sam admits. "Let's go." Dean pushes the door open, finding the chapel empty. Dean can feel Sam's breathing quicken as they walk towards a pew.
"Sit down." Dean orders. "Deep breaths, man. Wait here." Dean walks over to the office door, checking over his shoulder every few seconds to see how Sam is doing. He smiles a bit when he sees that Sam is praying. He knocks on the door.
"Come in." Rebecca calls out. Dean opens the door. She's sitting at the desk, writing something in a journal. "Ah, Agent Young. What can I do for you?"
"We've uh.. just arrested a suspect. I was hoping Ms. Julia would be willing to identify him."
"Sure, I'll let her know she's needed at the police station." She replies. Dean shakes his head.
"No need. He's here." He explains. Her eyebrows raise sharply.
"He's... here?" She asks. Suddenly a shriek rings out from the chapel, both Dean and Rebecca rush out to see Julia crying at the sight of Sam, who suddenly seems a lot more relaxed. She runs to Rebecca, who embraces her and rubs circles into her back. Dean runs over and lifts Sam to his feet. Sam looks at Dean, his expression disinterested and his breathing steady.
"I told you." He says flatly. Dean leads Sam closer to the women, but Rebecca holds her hand out for him to stop.
"I think you've gotten your identification." Her voice a stern warning. "Please take him and go."
"Unfortunately I do need a verbal confirmation. Julia, is this the man you saw?" He asks.
"Yes!" She cries.
"Are you sure? Like really sure? 110% sure?" Dean asks, unwilling to believe it. There's gotta be some kind of mistake. "This is the man who killed those women?"
"She's given her answer." Rebecca asserts herself between Julia and the men. Dean takes the hint and begins leading Sam out.
"Thank you for your time, we'll be in touch." Screw pretending to perp walk Sam, Dean actually drags the man out. Sam seems bizarrely resigned given the situation, a stark contrast to his previous anxiety. Dean can't believe what he's just seen. He doesn't know what to make of it.
"Um... you gonna uncuff me?" Sam asks as they walk towards the car, like something insane didn't just happen.
"No. No I'm not, Sam. You're gonna start talking."
"I told you-" He begins
"You can't. Right. You gotta give me something, you're going on midnight missions to kill people and I'm just supposed to accept that?!" Dean yells. He can feel his face getting hotter in anger. "Draw me a diagram! Sign it to Eileen! I don't care, you owe me an explanation! You've been acting off for months Sam, this is getting scary." Sam takes a deep breath as Dean ducks his head into the passenger seat. Dean walks around to the other side of the car, getting behind the wheel. His gaze briefly flashes to the man in the backseat- THE MAN IN THE BACK SEAT! His gun is trained on whoever the hell this is, eyeing him up and down. A black man with hair shaved close to his scalp. He wears a suit, and sits back in the seat as though he's been there a while. "You got five seconds to get out of my car."
"Don't you have questions, Dean? That your poor brother can't answer?" The man blinks, revealing black eyes. Dean stows his gun, if for no other reason than its uselessness against a demon. "He's not just your brother anymore. He's our newest prince. Our future king." The demon explains.
"Last I checked, his eyes weren't yellow." Dean retorts.
"They will be. Once his training is complete." The demon responds.
"His training? No. Sorry, but he's abdicating the throne." Dean responds, but the demon just laughs.
"You think this is optional?"
"Team free will, bitch." Dean responds, drawing an angel blade from his shoe and driving it into the demons chest. The demon doesn't even try to stop him. It would've been easy, given the awkward geometry caused by the car. Dean knows he should probably be unsettled by the demons willingness to die, but he's just grateful. He turns to Sam. "Is that what's going on? Hell's trying to mold you into its king?" Sam nods his head without a word, looking down at his shoes. If he didn't know any better, Dean could swear he sees a grin pull on Sam's lips for the briefest of moments.
Sam had watched the entire thing unfold from an empty void in his own head, powerless to stop Lucifer from driving his life into a ditch. Sam only resurfaced halfway through the drive home. The cuffs have his arms at an awkward angle, his right hand is falling asleep but he wouldn't take them off for a million dollars.Dean is staring ahead, no doubt reeling from the "revelation" he just got. Every so often, Dean throws out an idea or a question about the situation, but Sam had nothing to say about it. That could not have gone worse, Sam thinks to himself.
"Hey, you made me come up with the cover story. I think our little friend did a good job." Lucifer reminds Sam. "But it got Dean off our backs so that's good."
"Shut up. Please. Just shut up for a minute" Sam begs. He's exhausted, his body wants to give out.
"What if we call Crowley?" Dean suggests. Sam shakes his head, that wouldn't help anything and he doesn't want Dean barking up the wrong tree.
"He'd just kill me." Sam replies. "If he thinks I'm a threat to his throne, he'd just want me dead." Sam isn't sure why he's going along with the fictional explanation for his behavior. Probably because it means that Dean will now be on-guard around him. "If I die and go to Hell-"
"You'll end up with a new set of eyes." Dean finishes for him. He looks Sam in the eyes, concern etched in every cell of his face. "You can fight this, Sam."
"I am Dean. Trust me, I am. But I don't know if I can do this forever."
"You don't have to fight it forever, just long enough for us to stop it." Dean pauses. "Why the hell would a demon show up, drop a bomb like that on us, and then let me kill him? Had to be some kind of motive to that."
"I guess Hell really wanted you to hear it." Sam says, hoping against hope that this clues Dean in that something is off about it. Sam tries to say Lucifer's name, completely out of context just to see if he can. His jaw snaps together, biting his tongue in the process. He finds weird solace in his blood still tasting human.
"Stop trying, Sam." Lucifer warns him. Sam transitions to ASL, raising a hand to his forehead in an attempt to sign Lucifer's name. Instead, he slaps himself.
"Why are you hitting yourself?" Dean and Lucifer both say in unison.
"I'm not." Sam mutters. Dean just rolls his eyes. Sam is incredibly disturbed by how Lucifer seems to be toying with him. He's able to take control at any moment but seems to enjoy watching Sam struggle and flounder against him. Sam can move himself around, but Lucifer has absolutely no issue doing things without his permission. Lucifer is squarely located in the nothingness inside his head, but is somehow still able to exert control. Sam is at the top of that pit, Lucifer a little above halfway. So.. a 9/10 and a 6/10 respectively. Lucifer has access to all give senses and takes control occaisionally when triggered into it, but Sam has control the rest of the time with a random Lucifer twitch here and there. It weirdly makes Sam feel a little better to have a numerical danger alert system. Still, the fact that Sam is only in control seemingly because Lucifer allows it is deeply unsettling. Sam needed to find a way to keep him down. He thinks back to his famous swan dive. What was different then? Lucifer was well and truly locked down in that moment, to the point that he didn't even realize what was going on until they were in Hell. His conviction was strong, the stakes were high, and he was... uhh... powered up, for lack of a better term. Is that it? Does he need to go back to drinking demon blood every day? Where the hell was he gonna get that? His eyes wander to the dead body in the back seat of the car. He wouldn't work, being already dead and no longer containing a demon. But.. is that even worth considering? Sam currently has enough on his plate without adding a potential relapse to the equation. Would it even be a relapse, given the circumstances? Sam looks to his brother, who would be so disappointed and scared if he found out what Sam was thinking in this moment. Dean grits his teeth, an anxious habit.
"We'll be okay." Sam assures him. "We always are."
They pull into the garage, Dean grabs the keys to the cuffs. He goes to the passenger door and opens it for Sam, holding up the keys.
"I'm gonna take them off-" He explains, but Sam quickly shakes his head.
"Don't. Don't take them off. Just... move them to the front." Dean wants to argue with Sam over this, but Sam seems to be even more scared than Dean is. He does as Sam instructed. Together they walk into the house, headed for the foyer. The scene before them takes Dean by surprise. A young man lays dead, face down in front of the table. A bottle blonde woman, looking to be in her 40s sits at the table with a cup of tea across from their mom. Adam sits on the opposite end holding an ice pack to the side of his head.
"The hell happened here?" Dean asks casually.
"Demons. The warding got messed up, they just walked right in asking for Sam." His mom answers, nodding towards the woman. Dean looks to Sam.
"The warding got messed up?" Dean repeats, it's less a question more an accusation.
"I didn't do it." Sam says with a shrug.
"Why are you cuffed?" Adam asks.
"Later." Dean answers. "Are you alright, ma'am?" He asks, directing his attention to the woman.
"I'm alright. Just a tad shaken." She speaks with an English accent. "I'd best be off. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Their mom offers to walk her out, and does so as Sam and Dean sit down. Adam is staring at them.
"So... rough day for everyone?" He asks. Dean nods
"What'd the demons want?" Sam asks.
"Like your mom said, they wanted you. Didn't get the chance to ask very many questions. Once they realized you weren't here, they got violent. He knocked me into the table, so your mom stabbed him. The lady grabbed your mom so I just sorta... exorcised her." Dean knows they have a lot of problems on their plate right now, but baby's first exorcism needs to be acknowledged.
"Wait- you... you exorcised a demon?" Sam asks, clearly surprised and thinking along the same lines as Dean. Adam nods. "Good job, dude."
"When did you learn to do that?" Dean asks as their mom returns.
"You guys said I could look through the library. It seemed like a useful thing to memorize." Adam explains with a shrug. "Your turn, what's with the cuffs?"
"It's for the best that I keep these on." Sam begins, looking at Adam apologetically. "Those demons came here for a reason. I'm dangerous and I don't want to hurt anyone."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Their mom asks. Dean recaps everything that happened. The convent, the girl, the demon still laying dead in the back seat. She and Adam listen intently, clearly overwhelmed by it all. Dean pretends not to notice the horrified looks they are throwing at Sam, or the shame in Sam's eyes. When Dean has finally finished sharing every detail, Mary is the first to speak.
"Okay. Sounds like we've got some homework to do. Dean, help me out with these bodies." She rises from her seat and starts dragging the corpse by the feet. Dean heads to the car to collect the body from his own backseat. The blood is gonna be a nightmare to clean. He throws the man across his back in a fireman's carry and meets his mom out front. She's gathering wood for a bonfire. He throws the man down and dusts his hands off.
"What do you make of all this?" She asks him, handing him an axe.
"Honestly? Call me crazy, but something stinks. This one just showed up and spelled it out for us." He sighs, pointing at the backseat demon. "I don't know. It sounds like Hell's on a fools errand to turn a living man into a yellow-eyed demon. I'll call Cas later, find out if that's even possible." He says, swinging the axe into a relatively thin tree.
"How are you doing in all this?" She asks, arranging the logs she's gathered into a circle.
"I'm fine. Just hate that we're on demonic Sam take two... or three.. or whatever number we're on." Another hard swing, Dean has to admit it feels good to let his rage guide the axe. Sam is a good person, so why Hell wants him he will never understand.
"Me too. But how are you?"
"Lucifer being dead was supposed to fix him, but he's apparently gotten worse overnight." Two more hits and the tree falls with a wooshing sound. He keeps hitting the tree to break it up into smaller logs, but he doesn't pay much mind to where exactly he's aiming. Swing after swing, he vents his frustration. "Every time we think we've gotton through the worst of it, something else happens!" He cries out. "Every time I turn around, something goes wrong and Sam needs to be supervised. When does this bullshit end?!" He screams. The tree breaks in two. "It just gets worse and worse every time. First I think he's psychic, we can live with that. Then he's palling around with demons and drinking their fucking blood, we get through that. Then he loses his soul, we get it back. Then he falls of his rocker, we stumble through that too. But how am I supposed to get him through turning into a demon?" He finally looks up and makes eye contact with his mother. She's looking at him with pity, making him feel deeply uncomfortable.
"Sounds like you boys have gotten good at figuring things out. This is no different. Again, are you okay?" She asks, taking the axe from his him.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just wish the universe would stop trying to take my brother out from under me."
As soon as Dean and their mom have left the room, Sam turns to Adam. Adam is looking Sam up and down with wild eyes, biting his lip and tapping his hands against the table. Something about his nervous expression sends Sam back to the cage. There was a period of time where Sam didn't see Michael at all. Sam could never be sure when it happened or for how long, keeping track of time down there was futile, but he'd never forget the look on Adam's face. It was the first time he bore witness to what was truly happening in the cage. The poor kid was petrified by the entire situation. Lucifer kept asking Adam's input on the "art" he was slowly carving into Sam's chest and Adam could barely understand their situation. Michael had only taken control back when Adam decided to throw himself against Lucifer in an attempt at getting him away from Sam. The next time Adam surfaced, Sam made him promise to never do that again. He wouldn't have Adam getting hurt for Sam's sake when it was his fault they were all in this fucked up situation. Sam is hit with guilt as he realizes he's just put Adam in the same room as Lucifer. He desperately wants to get himself (and his passenger) away from the people he cares about, but the memory makes Sam curious.
"Adam, how did you keep Michael down? In the cage?" Sam asks. The blunt question seems to throw his brother off.
"I.. I didn't. What are you talking about?"
"You did. You were... you for months. Right up until you charged..." Sam had to think about how to explain it given his current gag order "You tackled an archangel." Sam laughs at the rare positive memory of the cage, the look of shock on Lucifer's face as a scrawny kid came out of nowhere and took him to the floor. "You don't remember?"
"I do, but I didn't keep Michael down. He let me stay up. Said he was disappointed in Lucifer. Why do you ask?" Adam seems a bit calmer now, maybe seeing Sam acting normal is putting him at ease? Sam smiles at his brother with pride.
"It's just impressive. I don't think anyone expected you to be as tough as you are." Sam rubs Adam's shoulder approvingly. "Im uh.. I'm gonna head to bed. You alright?" Adam nods.
"Needed proof you just got lucky last time? There you go." Lucifer teases. Sam rises from his seat, but instead of heading to his own room he finds himself headed for Dean's. He's not sure why exactly, or even whose idea this was. Opening the door, the room is a little bit less neat than it was before. The trashcan needs to be emptied and Dean's journal lays open on the desk. Sam kneels down, feeling around under his brother's bed. He touches a magazine, something sharp, what feels like it could be a book and- there it is. Sam pulls out the vial of Crowley's blood. It has started coagulating and small crystals of sulfur seem to be forming, suspended in the liquidy jelly. Sam is almost relieved that this isn't an option. "Ah.. still good." Lucifer muses.
"What are you talking about? It's gross and old." Sam thinks. "What am I even doing with this?" Sam picks up Dean's trash and chucks the vial inside, aiming to take it outside and get rid of it once and for all. There is no just in case that would justify it.
"Okay, screw this." Lucifer says. He takes control, throwing Sam so far into the emptiness he has no clue what is going on around him. "You are so stubborn, Sam. We are together at last, and your interests are mine. You drink, I get drunk. I take medicine, you feel better. It's that simple." Sam pushes to get to the top, he's not sure what Lucifer is planning but he knows it isn't good. He tires quickly, almost all energy having already been drained out of him over the past 48 hours. Still, he keeps pushing. It feels like hours and he still hasn't even regained a blurry glimpse of the world. He's at a one on his stupid little scale, completely cut off from the outside world. Despite all his best efforts, he doesn't seem to be making any progress at all. Then again, there's no real way to know if that's true or not. Can't take stock of your surroundings if there are no surroundings. "You can relax, Pal. I'm not doing anything destructive." Suddenly, Sam feels a burst of strength and energy. He doesn't know where it came from, and Sam has a sinking feeling he doesn't want to know, but he takes full advantage. His ascent is so quick, there's no chance for him to get his bearrings before he's suddenly back in control. The cloud of exhaustion that has been following him around dissipates as he sucks in a breath. He no longer feels that extra weight of carrying the devil on his back. He feels like... well, like the guy who saved the world. Like he can actually serve his purpose as the stopgap between Lucifer and the world. He smiles to himself. I can do this.
That confidence comes crashing down when he sees the empty vial in his hand.
Notes:
I'm Jewish, so my knowledge on Christianity generally and Catholicism specifically are limited. If I got anything major wrong, PLEASE let me know. I do not seek to offend or upset people.
Chapter 9
Summary:
After weeks of stability from Samifer, Lucifer breaks through, prompting Sam to find a more stable source of demon blood.
Adam notices something that could get him killed.
Dean's talking loud, Dean's going strong, Dean's all alone, Dean's lettin' loose, Dean's gotta move. Dean's gotta... Dean's gotta let go.
Notes:
Dean's summary is a reference to Gypsy, by the way. I'm not just throwing out random words, I promise.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean rides happily down the road with his mother in the passenger seat. It always feels kinda weird to have anyone other than Sam sitting there, and Dean has called her Sam a few times along the way. She politely ignored it every time, though Dean can sense that she noticed. They're on their way back home after a fairly boilerplate encounter with a wraith that had set up shop in a high school. It may not have been the life she wanted, but damn his mom has a real talent for hunting. She'd been the one to identify the gym teacher as the monster, sucking kids' brains out through their skull. Dean did feel a bit guilty though, he'd been riding all over the country with her while Sam is back home on lockdown. They'd hit a brick wall with the Men of Letters literature and they'd hit a stalemate in calling for help. Dean wanted to call Cas, Crowley, or both but Sam had refused.
"I really should just call Cas anyway." Dean says aloud, starting the conversation in the middle knowing his mom would understand what he was talking about.
"I don't know, Dean. He's been doing a lot better since that blip at the convent." Dean is put off by her casual tone, as though she's accustomed to her son being a mass murderer.
"A blip? Mom he killed a bunch of innocent people. I don't wanna shock you, but that's not his norm." Dean takes his eyes off the road to look at her, she shrugs her shoulders before responding.
"Maybe not, but he hasn't been cuffed for weeks and nobody has died. He says he's fine and he's acting the part." Dean sighs, he wishes it was that simple. He really does. But with Sam, it never is. He always insists he's got things under control until it all comes spilling out, usually with a heavy cost and possibly a body count.
"That's the problem. Dude finds out he's the crown prince of Hell and suddenly he's getting eight hours of sleep?" He shakes his head. "I'm not buying it. I need to figure this out and fix him."
"Dean.. it's not your job to 'fix' him." She says, her tone loaded and tense, like she's been wanting to say it for a while. Dean rolls his eyes, this is something she's just never gonna get. She was gone. Dad was never around. It had to be somebody's job and Dean was the last man standing.
"What are you talking about? Of course it's my job. Always has been." He doesn't know how to get through to her just how deep this particular instinct goes.
"No. Your job is to take care of yourself and be there when he needs you. His job is to take care of himself and be there when you need him. That's what brothers do." Dean considers her words. She's not too far off, but Dean figures they have a very different definition of being there for each other.
"He's not just my brother, Mom. I raised him, brother, mother, and father. The John Winchester you fell in love with is not the man we grew up with. He was a broken drunk with the worst tunnel vision you've ever seen. He would dump us some place and go off hunting. I made Sam's meals, cleaned his cuts, brought him to school, put stolen clothes on his back, tucked him in..."
Dean gets lost in a memory. He was around eight, already more of a hunter than a child. Sam was still so naive and innocent. Sam had woken Dean up crying because there was a monster under his bed. Dean knew if their father was there, he'd say "Then shoot it, free target practice." But Dean couldn't and wouldn't let Sam grow up with a gun under his pillow too. Dean simply reassured his brother that monsters weren't real, and shined a flashlight under Sam's motel bed to let him see that the only thing under there was dust and a candy wrapper that looked older than Sam. Dean clears his throat and continues speaking.
"Me and Sam? We're the only constant we've got. My entire life revolves around keeping him safe-"
"That's not a normal way for a kid to grow up." She says, interupting him.
"Maybe not, but it's how we grew up." He pauses, trying to find the best words to convey why this matters so much to him. "It keeps me sane. When the world is ending and I'm one bad day from spinning out, having him around brings me back down to Earth. I can't let the world end while my brother's still in it, you know? And when I'm..." What's a good word for 'suicidally depressed?' "...down and ready to... to give up, I can't because I'd be leaving him alone. I've got a purpose, you know?" He pauses and sees her nodding attentively. "We keep each other human. When one of us decides to break bad, it's on the other to pull him back. So yeah, it is my job to fix him and I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You aren't alone in this anymore, Dean." She says with a reassuring smile.
"I never have been, and so help me God I never will be." Dean asserts.
Sam sits across from Adam in the library, a stack of books between them. Adam's reading a book of exorcisms, Sam is reading a field guide Bobby had started keeping, documenting everything he knew about angels in one place. It smells like Whiskey, making Sam nostalgic for the old man's house. The page he's on is a bit tough to make out in places due to what Sam assumes are tear stains, and Sam can't help but blame himself for that. It starts out typical, detached, and informational. A description of how their possession works, then about halfway down it starts to get personal.
Taking back control from an angel is nigh-impossible, but that don't mean it can't be done. Far as I know, it's only happened the once. If anyone was gonna be able to do it, it was Sam Winchester. He managed to overpower the devil himself. I can't exactly ask him how he did it, and I was dead on the ground when it happened. Hear Dean tell it, Lucifer was kicking his ass when Sam snapped back into his skin. No explanation of how, Sam just told him it would be okay and then he was gone. Dead. So there's no strategy guide for taking the reins back once you've got an angel in you. Wish I could talk to him, ask him what it was like, or just tell him I'm proud of him. But not every hero gets to live happily ever after. Some sacrifices go beyond death. Sometimes you gotta fight every instinct you got and leave a boy you love like a son in Hell forever, and you're supposed to just live with that like every breath you take don't kill you.
Sam smiles despite himself, recognizing Bobby's voice shining through what is basically a textbook on every page but this one. Future hunters may not know or care who wrote these words, but Sam can't forget and values them deeply. There's very little new information, most of what's in there came directly from the Winchesters, but Sam reads it on the thin hope that Bobby found something that never came up before his death. He relaxes onto the back of his chair, flicking a highlighter back and forth. He's felt a lot more... in control lately. A steady diet of demon blood means the devil can really only come out at night. And Sam has been taking precautions to keep his sleep undisturbed. The burden of carrying Lucifer feels a lot lighter lately, the weight of a large atlas rather than Atlas' large load.
"There are... a million different exorcisms." Adam notes, rubbing his eyes. "How do you know which one to use?"
"Three hundred and four." Sam corrects him. "It's personal preference, really. We usually just kill the demon."
"Why? There's a person in there." Adam asks earnestly. Sam does agree with Adam's logic, he often wonders how many vessels he's killed. He knows a lot of them were killed before the demon's death, but part of him knows that's just what he tells himself to feel more comfortable with what he's done. Catastrophic blood loss is usually deadly, so there have been times where Sam has personally killed the vessel whilst leaving the demon alive.
"Nobody's hands are clean, Sam. You're human and therefore flawed." Lucifer whispers. Sam clears his throat, he doesn't want to think about that.
"Most of the time, the person is already dead." Sam says by way of an answer.
"Don't demons heal their vessels?"
"No, that's an angel thing."
"Speaking of, isn't that book about angels? Dean said we needed to find out everything we could about the princes of Hell."
"I couldn't read another word about demons if my life depended on it." Sam mumbles, closing Bobby's book and getting up. He paces back and forth, Sam has only been able to sneak out of the bunker at night and it's getting late. Dean has insisted that Sam stay behind while he goes cruising all over creation with their mom. He understands it, but he's getting really sick of being treated like a prisoner in his own home.
"Dean's not the boss of you, you know?" Lucifer reminds Sam. Sam pauses. He knows he shouldn't take anything Lucifer says under advisement, but that is a statement of fact. Dean thinks Sam is in the process of turning into a demon and he goes hunting. Sam isn't a kid, he doesn't need a chaperone. If he wants to go outside, he should be allowed to. And Dean can't exactly stop him from Utah.
"Your life does depend on it, remember?" Adam calls out, trying to get Sam's attention. He snaps out of his mini-spiral and remembers that he's mid-conversation.
"Yeah. Yeah I know. Listen, I'm losing my mind in here. I'm heading out." Sam states plainly.
"You can't. Dean said-" Adam starts to argue, but Lucifer rises. Something in his expression seems to scare Adam stiff. Sam feels a rush of fear, Lucifer hasn't shown up in a while. He can still see and hear, meaning it won't be too hard to take back the wheel. But Sam has absolutely no control over what Lucifer does, and they're alone with Adam.
"I'm not gonna let some... primate order me around." Sam hears his voice say. He knows the message isn't just about Dean, Lucifer has been getting restless and angry at not being in control of Sam anymore. He sounds stilted, but clear. Like a robot programmed to perform slam poetry. That tone is very distinct to Lucifer going on a diatribe, and it's one Adam has heard before. Adam opens and closes his mouth like a fish, clearly taken aback by Lucifer's word choice. Sam takes comfort, Lucifer's mask is slipping in front of someone smart enough to put two and two together.
"Why are you talking like that?" Adam asks gently, standing up and walking closer to Sam. Adam examines him, tilting his head slightly as the gears start turning. No, back up Adam. You don't want this fight. Sam has to stifle his satisfaction at Adam's quick thinking to focus on keeping Adam safe. Sam quickens his ascent, he's a bit out of practice at this but Adam is far too close to him and he needs to take control before things escalate.
"Like what?" Lucifer asks, relaxing his posture and mimicking Sam's speaking cadance. Too little, too late, Lucifer.
"Like..." Adam cuts himself off as Sam takes back control. He nearly falls over from the headrush, catching himself on the table. His gaze snaps to his brother. Adam squints, looking into the middle distance. Sam is sure Adam is capable of putting it together. But the kid's brain tends to be a bit scattershot. Knowing Adam, he'll probably jolt awake some night suddenly aware of the fact that Sam is possessed. Lucifer definitely tipped his hand, and that would have to be enough for now.
"We're good. I am gonna make a run, want anything?" Sam promises. Adam keeps staring at him completely dumbfounded. Sam places his hands on Adam's shoulders and comes to his eye level, trying to be as reassuring as possible. "Adam, it's gonna be okay. Cross my heart, I've got 'em on lockdown." Adam blinks repeatedly, his eyes still not really registering Sam's words. Sam shakes him gently. "Adam? You there, bud?" Adam's breathing gets heavier and he starts mumbling, going back and forth between English and Enochian. His speech isn't very clear, and humans lack the vocal structures required to speak Enochian properly, but he seems to be reenacting an argument with either Michael or Lucifer. Probably a PTSD thing. Sam gently guides Adam to a chair, the boy is compliant and doesn't seem to register the fact that he's moved at all. "Adam, can you hear me? Listen to my voice, where are you right now?" Sam gets only labored breathing in response, and decides to switch tactics to something that always worked pretty well for himself. He speed-walks to the kitchen and pulls an ice pack from the freezer. Through a lot of trial, error, and google they'd realized that cold actually helped bring him out of his own head when an old memory decided to ruin everyone's day. It was inspired by an old cut on Sam's palm. Once upon a time, the pain from pushing on an open wound would bring Sam back when he started to lose his grip on reality. As the wound closed, however, it became a far less effective tool. The choice was either keep cutting his hand (which seemed impractical) or find something painful but harmless. Ice was what they landed on. He rushes back to where Adam still sits. He's still whispering in the human approximation of Enochian, something about somebody's brother. Sam places the ice pack on the back of Adam's right hand, resting in his lap. Adam startles and reflexively flings it away, it thuds to the ground about six feet away where Sam collects it.
"Okay, no ice." Sam mutters to himself. He sits down across from Adam, leaning down to make eye contact. Adam makes eye contact with him, but unfortunately he doesn't really see Sam.
"Michael!" He calls out. "Michael, I need help!" Adam squeezes his eyes shut. Sam grimaces, Lucifer tended to take Sam's shape in the cage. Said it felt the most comfortable. Sam honestly isn't sure how to handle this situation, he wants to help his brother but all Adam sees is Lucifer.
"He's not wrong." Lucifer whispers with a chuckle. Sam shakes his head and focuses on figuring out what the hell to do. Adam looks at Sam with wild eyes, and Sam can't stand to be feared in such a way. He simply gets up and gets out of Adam's field of view. Adam's breathing immediately calms down a bit, though he keeps begging Michael to help him in both English and Enochian. Sam realizes all he can do is make the situation worse. He doesn't want to leave Adam alone, but it seems like that genuinely might be the best thing for him. He grabs Adam's phone off the table and dials Dean, putting the phone on speaker.
"Adam?" His mother's voice answers.
"No, it's Sam. Listen Mom, Adam's going through something in his head and he can't even look at me. Keeps seeing... someone else. You think you or Dean could talk to him?" Sam keeps his voice hushed, if his face is hurting Adam so will his voice.
"PTSD thing?" Dean asks, apparently on speaker as well.
"Think so. Keeps asking for Michael in Enochian. I'm gonna set the phone on the table and go be somewhere else, I don't wanna scare him." Sam says, putting the phone on the table just in front of Adam.
"Good call, one of us'll text you the all-clear." Dean says.
Sam walks off to his room to have his own little private meltdown. Lucifer's return was not expected or wanted. Sam had tried to cut back a bit on his demon blood intake, both due to a lack of supply and a desire to only take what he needed to keep himself upright and in the driver's seat. He'd learned that both he and Lucifer required different amounts to stay in control. A vessel needed a certain level of corruption to house Lucifer, but too much corruption weakened the archangel. Meaning Sam needed to drink it like water if he wanted to keep the devil down. He reaches under his bed and grabs a flask of the stuff. He opens it and tries to drink but finds it empty. Guess I'm taking a field trip tonight. Without the car. Sam briefly questions where he's gonna find a demon in a demonic no-fly zone before remembering that Crowley had stationed a few brave and broken souls somewhere in town.
Dean keeps driving down the highway, his mom holds the phone close to his face. Adam is saying.. something. Dean can't really make out the words, but he knows they're not English. Hard part is gonna be getting his attention.
"Adam? Can you hear me?" Adam doesn't acknowledge Dean, but he does stop murmuring in Angel. "What's my name?" Dean asks, a basic enough question to orient the kid in reality. "C'mon, you know this one. Whose voice are you hearing from the phone?"
"Dean. Dean's voice." Adam answers quietly, like he's afraid someone might hear him. His mom nods with a smile. Dean knows she's grown fond of Adam and come to see him as one of her boys. He can't overstate how grateful he is for that.
"Bingo. Do me a favor, look straight ahead. What do you see?"
"Books on a table. More books on a shelf." Adam sounds shaky and somewhat detached, like he's reading from a teleprompter in a language he doesn't speak. It's almost funny how similar he sounds to a mid-flashback Sam.
"Uh-huh. So where are you right now?" Dean keeps his tone casual, anything else might set him off. These questions feel a bit stupid and obvious, but Dean can't deny that it helps Sam to start with the basics and he hopes it'll help Adam too.
"Bunker library."
"That's right. You're home. We got you out of the Cage, kiddo. You're safe now. Who lives in the bunker with you?"
"Sam, Dean, Mary, Lucifer." Oh, boy... His mom bites her lip, unsure if she should speak. Dean points a hand at the phone. Let him hear your voice.
"Close. Lucifer is dead. You don't need to worry about him. It's just you, me, Sam, and Dean. One weird little family." Her voice is gentle, it reminds him of the way she'd comfort him for a scraped knee or an overheard parental spat. Calm reassurance that everything will be okay.
"Right. Right, dead."
"This is kinda weird, but go with me here. Grab a book and sniff it for me." Dean suggests.
"...okay?" Dean pauses to give him a chance to follow instructions.
"What does it smell like?"
"Earth and alcohol." Dean stifles a laugh. Everything in their home probably smells like alcohol. "It smells old." Adam chuckles, to Dean's relief.
"Probably is. Can you read some of it to me? Just to pull your mind away from wherever it's trying to take you?"
"'I know we've already covered angelic time travel, but I got some new information. Seems the further back in time the angels throw you, the harder you get to retrieve. Cas just had to tap into my soul to get Sam and Dean back from the 19th century. So an angel can't just fling you into the stone age and pull you right back from the jaws of a sabretooth tiger. And a soulenoscopy (see chapter 14) hurts like a bitch.'" Dean's eyes widen, he knows what book Adam is reading. Question is, where'd he find it? It's not just hanging out in the library, it's been in Sam's room since they moved in. Sam's always been overprotective of Bobby's personal library. They don't have much to remember the old man by, and this book in particular is more personal than most.
"Wait, how'd you find that? Did Sam give it to you?" Dean asks, momentarily forgetting the entire point of this conversation. His mom looks at him with furrowed brows.
"No, he was reading it before I... freaked out." Adam's voice sounds a lot more even. He sounds tired, but aware. Alright, so Sammy's not doing his homework for once. Dean isn't really sure if that falls into the 'Sam acting weird' bucket. Probably not, more likely the dude was just missing Bobby. Dean would give anything to have the old man at his side with the kind of crap they've been dealing with. Dean's demon phase would've been a lot less dangerous, whatever the fuck is going on with Sam would get solved a lot quicker, and Bobby would get stars in his eyes at the sight of the bunker.
"Are you alright, hun?" His mom asks into the phone, pulling Dean away from his thoughts and getting his focus back on Adam.
"Yeah, it's getting late. I'm gonna head to bed." Adam answers.
"Alright, we should be there early in the morning. We'll try not to wake you. Goodnight," She says, she goes to hang up but Dean stops her. If they're gonna stop Adam from melting down again, they gotta know what happened this time.
"Wait- real quick. What happened? You were sitting there, studying with Sam, then what?"
"He said he wanted to go out for a bit, I dunno I guess I got some wires crossed or something. Lucifer could take on any form he wanted in the cage and he landed on Sam. I saw him and I just got confused." Okay, so this is just a fact of life then. It's not like Sam can just... not look like that.
"That's okay. We'll see you tomorrow, Adam. Night."
"Night." Adam replies before hanging up.
"Seems like Adam might've hidden some stuff from the cage." His mom sighs, texting someone. Probably Sam. She gives Dean a sympathetic smile.
"Yeah, chip off the old block." Dean mumbles. "He'll be okay."
"They both will." She rubs his shoulder. "Next run, you're taking Sam. Keeping him locked up isn't productive and he's been itching to go. Besides, I may have promised Adam I'd tutor him in the ways of the occult." She wiggles her fingers for emphasis, getting a laugh out of Dean. He genuinely weighs that suggestion in his head. She's right that it has been ninety-eight days since Sam's last incident and he has been remarkably functional in that time. He's been getting kinda pissy in the last few days, but that can easily be chalked up to cabin fever. The main sticking point for Dean is what will they do if Sam does go off the rails? Dean wouldn't be able to forgive himself if Sam winds up with another group of bodies at his feet. It wasn't his fault the first time, but it would be on Dean if he let it happen again. Dean licks his lips.
"If Cas gives him a clean bill of supernatural health," Dean begins, speaking slowly. "I might be willing to revisit that discussion."
Sam slings a messenger bag over his shoulder, the empty glass bottles clink around inside as he leaves his bedroom. He peeks into Adam's room, not wanting to leave if Adam is still awake. He's barely cracked the door open before he hears the kid snoring and gingerly closes the door. He walks with more confidence, knowing he won't be caught as he slips out the front door. At first, he's just wandering around. He's not sure where exactly he can find a demon, but he knows there are at least three in town. They'd neglected to mention Lucifer's "death" to Crowley, so he never recalled his squad. The Winchesters had met a couple of them while out and about, their orders seemed to be to live their vessel's lives as sleeper agents. One was a diner waitress, a short woman in her early 30s with dark hair and eyes, a beauty mark, and some real talent with makeup. She was abnormally wary of the gaggle of hunters, who were supposedly normal customers. She smelled strongly of floral perfume, though Sam could swear it was underlined by the scent of sulfur. Dean disagreed, and they'd squabbled about it until their mom pointed out that they were in public arguing over whether the waiter is a demon and their volume was rising. Another was a high school boy with blonde hair styled into a fauxhawk, almost as tall as Dean with one of the most annoying grins Sam had ever seen. He introduced himself pretty much immediately and called himself their "protection" as though they were in desperate need of a demonic watchdog. Dean wanted to kill him for being a "smarmy little asswipe" and Sam had to talk him down, promising that they would if he got outta line. The third was a kindly older woman who really took her cover to heart. Sam almost wouldn't believe she was a demon if she didn't flash her eyes at him. She bragged about her vessel's grandchildren as if they were her own. It was really off-putting to have a demon hand you cookies and promise to look out for you, and to actually believe it. None of them knew what to make of her.
Sam isn't sure who he wants to go for, they've all got their perks and drawbacks. And he knows none of their precise locations. He does know the diner is open late, and figures it's as good a place as any to start. He starts towards it, still in control of himself. But Lucifer takes the silence as a chance to get chatty.
"So... Adam might be a problem for us." Sam hears it in his head with a slight echo.
"For you. He's my brother, I've got no issues with him." He thinks. If Lucifer believes Sam is on his side, he's completely wrong. Then again, Lucifer currently has access to every thought that goes through Sam's head. There's no way he doesn't know exactly where he stands with the archangel.
"How many times do I gotta tell you? A me problem is a you problem. You wanna keep your brother alive? Keep him quiet so I don't need to silence him."
"I'm a bit busy trying to keep you quiet, Lucifer." Sam suddenly stops dead in his tracks, unable to move. He tries to keep walking but his legs refuse to obey him.
"I don't think you understand the situation, Sam. I own you. I have you on a long leash but I am free to yank you around as I please. Watch." Sam doesn't have time to process that before the ground disappears from beneath him, replaced by black and white tile. Sam feels a wave of nausea, no doubt caused by Lucifer's flight. He looks around frantically, trying to piece together what the hell just happened. He's in a public bathroom, urinals on one side, stalls on the other. Sinks and mirrors next to the door. He hears a woman's voice humming from one of the stalls, though Sam can't recognize the song. The air is strong with the floral-sulfur scent, and all at once Sam realizes where Lucifer's head is. "I can help you, Sam. I don't want to be your enemy. I want us to be one. Mind, body, and spirit. We're the same. Sooner you realize that, easier our lives get." Sam gulps, not wanting to capitulate to anything Lucifer says. He pushes open the stall door to see the diner waitress demon mopping the floor, still wearing her apron. She nearly drops the mop at the sight of a Winchester. Sam glances at her nametag, Shelly. Shelly, if you're in there I'm so sorry.
"Sam! You startled me. I'm just here.. living her life. You don't have to worry about me." She holds her hands up in surrender, her fear is almost human. "Crowley-" Sam holds a hand up to stop her.
"I know." He draws his knife, the knife, from his pocket. "And I'm sorry." He whispers. He's not sure if he's talking to the demon, the vessel, his family, or himself. Probably all of the above. She sees the knife and immediately tries to fly the coop, a cloud of black smoke beginning to cascade out of her mouth. Sam's fingers snap and a binding mark is burned into her arm, a circle with a line through half of it. It's almost a mirror image of the one Meg left him with, save for Bobby's life-saving alterations to the design. The smoke flies back into her mouth. Sam hopes to God that was Lucifer's doing, that he isn't just taking on the devil's mannerisms as his own. The demon gags, trying to leave her vessel but finding it impossible. Sam really wishes he weren't doing this, but Lucifer can't keep showing up around his family. There's nothing he wouldn't do to protect them, if that means defiling himself, killing an innocent vessel when he doesn't need to, and making use of Lucifer's abilities then so be it.
"I can relate to that. I love my brothers more than you think I'm capable of. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them." Lucifer says in his head. Sam rolls his eyes, this is coming from the man who killed Gabriel afterall. "Hey, you put him in that situation. I didn't want to do it, he made me." Sam doesn't want to entertain this conversation while there's a mission on his hands.
"How did you-?" Shelly asks, touching her burned arm. Sam holds a finger to his lips and shushes her. He slowly approaches her with the knife, locking the stall door behind him. He doesn't want to be any more violent than he has to be. She panics, and tries to push past him and escape. He grabs her by the wrist and pins her to the wall, holding her arms next to her head. "Please.. I'm here to help you."
"I know. And I'm sorry." Sam whispers. She struggles against him, he can feel her attempting to telekinetically hurl him away but either the blood or the Lucifer of it all have left him immune to demonic powers. She seems shocked that it's not working. "That's not gonna help you. Do us all a favor and give up." Sam brings her arms above her head and holds them both in place with his left hand and uses his right to cut into her neck. The smell of her blood makes his mouth water.
"Oh shit..." Shelly whispers, seeming to understand what Sam is doing. "Are you serious? Crowley said-"
"Crowley's wrong." Sam grumbles, latching onto her neck and drinking his fill. She stops squirming and goes stiff as a board, leaning her head to allow him better access. He feels the warmth and power wash over him. He can also feel Lucifer's appreciation, though Sam knows he can't stop yet. He needs to drink more. And more. And more. He grips the demon harder, despite her not fighting him anymore he doesn't want to risk her going anywhere. He gets that rush flowing through his veins, invincibility coursing through him. All the crap he's been so worried about ceases to exist for a moment. Everything will be okay so long as he doesn't stop. He feels Lucifer weaken, becoming less of an archangel and more a nuisance.
"Time to stop, Sam." Lucifer commands, but Sam ignores him and keeps drinking. Lucifer screams in frustration.
"How much do you need?" Shelly asks after another eternity, her voice shaking. Sam detaches once Lucifer finally shuts the fuck up.
"All of it." Sam says darkly. He stows the knife in his pocket and pulls a glass bottle from the bag around his shoulder. He holds it to her neck and lets the blood drain into it. One after another, he fills every bottle inside his bag. She lets him, though her wide eyes communicate fear rather than a willing blood donation. He puts a hand against her neck anyway, just to be sure she stays put.
"Please don't kill me. Take as much as you want, whenever you want. Please." She pleads, nodding her head to encourage him. Sam glances at the dozen large glass bottles of the stuff. That much blood loss absolutely would've killed the vessel. Sam weighs his options, if he keeps her around he could get more blood from her but he risks her running home to Crowley. Sam's life is a lot easier when demons aren't whispering about his habits amongst each other. He's used to killing demons after draining them, it's just cleaner and safer. Sam takes a deep breath, drawing the knife again.
"I'm sorry, I can't risk word getting to Crowley." He explains with a smile.
"I won't tell him! I won't say a word!" She implores him, gripping his shirt. Demons only really have three modes when it comes to interacting with a Winchester: Fight, flee, or bargain. This one is trying to bargain but it feels more like begging. They've gone off-script in a major way and Sam doesn't really know what to do with that. He figures he can at least entertain the idea. He's supercharged and can end her life with a thought, he can let her speak for now. She needs to take her hands off of him though, she's still a demon.
"And I have every reason to trust that." He spits, grabbing her wrists again and pulling them away from his chest. Does she think he's an idiot?
"You can trust that I'd rather be on Crowley's bad side than yours. Crowley's a pencil pusher, but he got one thing right. If you want to live, you don't fight the Winchesters. I'm not stupid." She sounds very sure of herself. Sam scoffs, but suddenly an idea pops into his head. One that would solve several problems at once. It's crazy, but he's been full of crazy ideas lately.
"Oh, yeah?" He unlocks the stall door, determination entering his voice. "You're coming with me."
"What?" She's taken aback, then literally taken out back as Sam drags her by the wrist.
"You heard me. You're moving in." She follows behind, not arguing her case. He holds her in one hand and the knife in the other. Just in case she was lying about not being stupid. If anyone caught them under a streetlight, they'd likely assume Sam and Shelly were running away from an angry shotgun dad. They don't speak the entire way home, Sam barrelling down the road like a stampeding moose doesn't leave much room for conversation. Sam doesn't want to think too deeply about the ethics of kidnapping a demon for their blood, or what the consequences might be if he's discovered. He can't just move her into a bedroom. Luckily, he has a dungeon. It doesn't get used, they aren't in the habit of taking prisoners. It'll be perfect. He's a genius. They come to a stop outside the front door and Sam whips her around to face him.
"Complete silence. Anyone catches you, you die. And I won't be able to use my powers in front of them so it's gonna hurt." She nods her head, but she is a demon and Sam's not stupid so he wraps an arm around her, covering her mouth. He leads her inside and drags her down to the dungeon. The concrete walls and floors reflect very little light from a small bulb hanging above the center of the room. Three cells made from iron and plated with silver against a wall, all of them with iron devils traps in the ceiling. The back of each cell has chains etched with spellwork, meant to limit a creature's abilities. It's definitely not a five-star resort, but it'll do.
"You have a dungeon?" She whispers.
"We do indeed. Pretty cool, right?" Sam nods and pushes her into the furthest cell. She shakes her head, completely floored. He gestures towards the floor for her to sit.
"I guess? What do you use it for?" She asks as she takes a seat. Sam chains her to the back of the cell.
"Absolutely nothing. Dean's got no reason to come down here, it's perfect. I'll get a TV in here at some point, but you just... stay." He looks at the woman chained up, considering just how much he needs to lock her down. What's the worst that can happen? Well, Dean could find her. That would suck. Sam takes a bandana from his back pocket and kneels down in front of her. He folds it into a rectangle and ties it around her head, gagging her. He stands up, holds a finger to his lips, and whispers "Goodnight" with a smile on his face.
Notes:
I'm not even sure where "kidnapping a demon" falls on the "Winchester Morality" scale, but Sam's not thinking super clearly. Apparently "I was high" is not a legal defense.
Also Atlas is a titan in Greek mythology. He's in charge of holding up the sky which, turns out, is incredibly heavy. Sam seems to have a decent understanding of various world mythologies so it felt like an analogy he would make.
The next chapter is gonna take me a second, it's gonna be somewhat...large.
Chapter 10
Summary:
Sam finally comes off of house arrest when Adam finds some amazons. Things go wrong because of course they do.
Dean realizes lives depend on him trusting his brother.
Cas is confused, bless his heart.
The family gets one step closer to realizing the position they're in.
Notes:
Brief description of torture. Not too graphic, but it's not vague. If you're squemish, skip from "And best of all, I did it." and pick up at the next line of dialogue.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam wakes up early, too early. The holy fire around his bed is still burning, still keeping him in place. Along with the cuffs chaining him to the bedframe. He left the keys on his bedside table, on the other side of the holy fire (as always). Meaning he's stuck just like this until the fire goes out. He blinks and scans the room, surprised that it's his. The room looks like the dwelling of a madman. He had to take down the various notes, maps, and red string to make room for sigils now painting every wall. Sam is starting to run out of room again. The floor is stained from repeated holy fires, books lay open and strewn about the floor, scrawled notes that make him sound like a lunatic cover every flat surface. He hears his phone go off on the floor next to him and peers down to look at it. Eileen is texting him. He's either excited, panicked, or both but either way he needs to know what she said right now. Most of the messages he gets are something along the lines of "I'm in danger" and he hopes that's not what this is. He hasn't been able to talk to her, or really anyone, since taking on Lucifer. He wants keep the number of loved ones in danger to an absolute minimum. He hopes she's not taking the distance poorly. He uses his feet to pick the phone up and put it in his hands. It's an awkward and slow movement, but nobody is here to see it. He unlocks the phone and reads the message.
Hey, been a while. I miss you.
Sam breathes a sigh of relief. It's a social call. He can handle a social call.
"Aww... it's adorable." Lucifer coos.
"What are you talking about?" Sam asks.
"The way your heart's fluttering. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I was worried about her, shut up." Sam can feel his face getting hotter. Lucifer's access to every thought in his brain is turning the boogeyman of monsters into a blushing schoolgirl.
"Yeah, I'll bet you were. You can't lie to me, Sam. I'm inside you." Sam rolls his eyes and types up a reply.
Miss you too. Sorry I've been so out of touch, life has been crazy. Hey, nothing wrong with a little truth.
Dean told me some of it. How're you doing? What the fuck, Dean?
I'm hanging in there. What'd Dean tell you?
Just that something weird is going on, but "usual Winchester weird," whatever that means. I'd love to lay eyes on you sometime soon, make sure you're okay? Sam doesn't know how to respond to this. He wants to see her too. Maybe cook her something nice and just have a chill evening for once in his godforsaken life. But he can't. He won't put her in danger. It's bad enough his mom and brothers were living with the devil, he can't put anyone else in harm's way.
I'm fine. Call later? It'd be a blessing to just see your face again.
Call now? Sam almost does it before remembering his hands are still bound to his bedpost and there's a simmering fire right behind him. Not the way he wants to be seen.
Later, kinda tied up at the moment.
Kinky?
No lmao. Just busy. With the "usual Winchester weird." And murdering my brother for telling people. His finger hovers over the send button, but he amends his message. Not that you're "people," I don't mind you knowing I just mind him telling, you know?
In his defense, I asked. I wanted to know how the hunt for Lucifer was going. I was surprised to hear it was done and you didn't tell me. Dean said you'd had a lot on your plate.
I do, but I'm fine. Just under quarantine/house arrest.
Yikes, I bet that's killing you.
Slowly but surely, it is. If only she knew how right she is.
Sam's doorknob rattles, and Dean's voice calls out from behind it.
"Sam? Are you up?"
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm up. I'll be out in a minute." Sam eyes the fire, it's dimming and getting shorter. Sam figures within the next five or so minutes he'll be free.
"It's chow time, hurry up." Dean insists.
I can keep you company?
I'd love nothing more, but it's not a good idea. I'm not exactly being kept under lock and key for MY safety, if you know what I mean?
A knock at his door. Probably Dean again.
"I said I'll be out in a minute!" Sam yells out, more insistant this time.
"Okay, well meet me in the library. I found something and your mom said I should show you." Adam's voice replies, slightly offended.
"Sorry, thought you were Dean!" Sam calls out, but he gets no reply. Adam probably left.
Okay, be mysteriously dangerous. I'll call you later.
It's a date.
Finally, the fire diminishes to nothing allowing Sam to reach for the keys with his feet and awkwardly unlock himself. He quickly grabs a bottle of demon blood from under his bed and drinks to head Lucifer off at the pass.
"We gotta talk about your appetite, man. You shouldn't be able to outdrink me." Lucifer says, putting on a show of concern. Sam keeps drinking, trying to put the devil in a box in a hole in the bottom of the sea. The bottle is suddenly yanked away from his lips, knocking his front teeth. He leans in after it, trying and failing to bring it back to him. "Ah-ah, you're cut off." Sam's hands put the bottle on the nightstand, puppetered by his roommate. Rather than fear, Lucifer's display only elicits minor annoyance. Sam knows he's still the one in control. He can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the predicament they've both found themselves in. He was Lucifer's prisoner for so long, but now Lucifer is his. Everything the devil ever did to him was for nothing, Sam is still standing stronger than ever. And whenever the devil thinks he has the upper hand, he ends up caged. He feels amusement coming from Lucifer's corner of his mind.
"Sam, I know exactly how broken you are. I can see it. I can feel it. And best of all, I did it."
Images of Sam's time in the cage flicker through his mind unbidden. The slicing, the screaming, the burning, the tearing. Sam's skin in a pile on the floor. His intestines falling loose from his body. Lucifer gripping each of his exposed ribs and breaking them one by one, singing a stupid counting song. Nerves being exposed, skin being charred black. Drills going through his soft palate. Needles under his fingernails. Michael holding that fucking blade in his brother's hand. Adam surfacing for a moment and trying his best to comfort Sam. Sam shakes the images from his mind, remembering that he is in his bedroom. His home. It doesn't matter what happened down there, it's over.
"You are my masterpiece. A human demon. You're living proof that my father was wrong. Every bit as corrupted as I am. It's why we're perfect for each other. There are sides to you that only I can understand." Sam grits his teeth. Get a new line.
As has become habit by now, Sam slices his uncooperative hand open, paints the angel surpression sigil (something he now knows by muscle memory) just above his headboard and activates it. One more added to the list. Lucifer's grip on his hand weakens, allowing Sam to pick the bottle back up. He returns to drinking, gulping down more and more until he feels Lucifer completely recede. Sam knows he should probably worry about how much he's ingesting, the stuff is basically spiritual poison. But, to quote Bobby, it seems stupid to get all precious over one little soul. Not like his hasn't already been put through the meat grinder. His soul means nothing, it's been torn to bits. Ripped asunder by his newest houseguest. What's a little demon blood in the grand scheme of all the damage that's been done to him? He doesn't bother changing out of his pajamas, it's not like he's going outside today anyway. He leaves his room and heads straight to the library, where Adam sits with a laptop open. Sam takes a seat across from him.
"Morning, Adam. What'd you find?"
"A news story in Tulsa. Two deaths, hands and feet missing." The hair on the back of Sam's neck stands up. That sounds familiar. "One of them was thrown into a table, shattering both it and the tile it was standing on. The other guy, his fridge was crumpled and the door fell off. You told me to follow my instincts, and my instincts say a human can't do that. So I got into the local law enforcement database, check out these crime scene photos." Adam whips the computer around so Sam can see the screen. A man, late twenties if Sam had to swear on it, down a few appendages. He's wearing a red t-shirt that has been ripped open, revealing a very complicated symbol carved into his chest that Sam immediately recognizes. "I could be wrong, but that feels supernatural."
"You're not wrong. Amazons. Dean and I have been waiting for them to show back up. Good work, Adam." Dean is gonna freak ot.
"Yeah?" Adam asks, surprised that he did a good job. Sam nods emphatically.
"Yeah, you found a solid case. A personal one for Dean."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. See, amazons are a tribe of superwomen who worship the goddess who gave them their abilities, Harmonia. Their mating cycle takes place every two years, and their daughters mature incredibly fast. Basically, all the eligable women go out, find a successful guy, have his kid, and then three days later the kid is supposed to kill her father. We ran into them a few years ago and Dean, being Dean-"
"Had a monster baby?" Adam supplies. Sam nods his head. "That's gotta screw with a guy's head."
"Yeah, he was celibate for about..." Sam doesn't really know how long that lasted. His concept of time was all screwed up. He can make his best guess though. "three months after that? Crankiest I've ever seen him. So if you ever see a woman with that symbol branded into her wrist, stay away."
"Noted." Adam chuckles. Sam pats him on the shoulder. Attaboy.
"Thanks for finding this Adam, you caught it early enough that Mom and Dean might be able to take the whole tribe down."
"You mean you and Dean." Sam throws a quizzicle look at Adam. What the hell is he talking about? Adam shrugs like he's admitting something. "I overheard him and Mary talking about it, she's bugging him to take you. They're in the kitchen, c'mon."
Dean wanders back to the kitchen after Sam rebuffed him at the door. His mom sits at the table, a plate of french toast and scrambled eggs in front of her.
"Help yourself." She offers. Dean gives her a grateful smile and fixes himself a plate before sitting across from her.
"He's coming. I'm gonna call Cas." Dean clears his throat. "Operator, Cas please. It's Dean. Listen, something's up with Sam and we just need an angel's eyes and some insider knowledge. This is a face-to-face kinda deal, but uh... we think Hell is trying to mold him into a prince of Hell and that seems impossible-"
"Hello, Dean." Cas' deep voice says from behind him. Dean startles and nearly throws a punch on reflex alone.
"Jesus, Cas... I've been to Hell, man." Dean explains as he recovers from the all too familiar shock of Cas' sudden appearance. Dude's gotta quit popping up behind me or I will hurt him one day.
"I'm aware, but I don't understant why that's relevant." He's never going to, best to let it drop. "I'm.. perplexed by what you've just told me."
"Yeah, us too." Dean mumbles, rubbing his face. "Sam's been acting off for a while now, first we thought he was just bound and determined to kill Lucifer. We take revenge seriously in this family, you know?" A sidelong glance at his mother. It's an unfair but true shot. "But right after Lucifer died.." Dean trails off, still not sure how exactly to describe the convent situation. Dean still doesn't understand it himself, was Sam under some kind of curse? Did he act under his own volition? Did someone tell him to do that? Did he completely black out? Dean's got no idea and the not knowing is scaring the shit out of him.
"He snuck out in the middle of the night and murdered a group of nuns. He hasn't been able to articulate why he did that, just that he can't tell us." His mom continues.
"Yeah, but not can't as in won't, more like he is physically incapable of telling us. There's some force keeping his lips sealed. Then demons start showing up and they tell us that Sam is the 'newest prince and future king' of Hell and he has to 'complete his training,' whatever the fuck that means. He's just been... different lately. Angrier. Bolder. More... prideful. He's been getting lost in his own head a lot, you know? He's doing odd stuff, and always acts like it's a surprise to him when it happens. Like he's not in control of his movements. One second he's studying the same way he always does, next second he'll close and open the same book twenty times, tear a page to shreds, then go running off to his room. When he comes back, there's never an explanation on what the hell happened. He's been keeping his door locked and staying in bed a lot longer. He's got all this energy, but if you look in his eyes he's dead tired. Nothing evil, just a whole lot of weird."
"We're hoping you can help us out here, we can't make heads or tails of it." His mom throws her arms up in exasperation. Cas just stands there, taking it all in before finally speaking.
"This is disturbing." He states plainly, though he doesn't need to say it. His revulsion is painted on his face, his lips held tight together and his brows scrunched.
"Tell me about it." Dean concedes grimly.
"There is good news, your theory is impossible. A living human cannot be turned into a demon of any kind. No matter what is done to them. Demons are made by damage being done directly to the soul. And even if you could turn a living person into a demon, the princes were made by Lucifer himself in a very specific way. From my understanding, he imbued them with some of his grace in order to strengthen them beyond other demons."
"So then what could be going on?" Dean asks quietly, he'd really hoped Cas would have an answer.
"Have you spoken with Crowley about this?" Cas asks.
Dean shakes his head and is about to speak when Sam walks in the room followed by Adam. Cas double takes and stares hard into Sam. Sam stares just as hard at Cas. Dean gets the sense that something really charged is going on here. Sam seems both desperate and confident, holding himself high with pleading eyes. Cas just seems confused, his eyes squinting and his head tilted slightly to the side. He reminds Dean of a golden retriever. Seeing Cas confused is kind of adorable. There's something unspoken going on between the two of them that Dean isn't privy to.
"Sam.. what have you..done?" Cas says sternly and slowly. He's genuinely asking the question, meaning he's got no idea. But he sees something. Dean isn't sure if that's good or bad yet.
"Say it. Please Cas. Tell them." Sam whispers, nodding his head to give him permission. Sam's gaze flicks to Dean, that same pleading look aimed at him. Suddenly, Sam isn't an out of line possibly demonic 6'5 man. He's Dean's kid brother who needs someone to understand what's going on. Dean can't give him that, he can only pray that Cas can.
"I.. can't see what 'it' is, Sam."
"Well, what can you see?" Sam asks, raising his voice in frustration.
"Your face.. is obscured. There's some sort of.. film over your being. There's something in you I can't see."
"Something in him?" Adam repeats, though Sam interupts whatever Cas might've said.
"Well, look deeper then! Find it, Cas! I've been trying to tell them about this for months, I need you to see what's there!" Sam is screaming and crying in frustration, but Cas remains calm.
"I'm trying, Sam. But I can't see you. You're blurry and shifting. Like your soul doesn't know what it is. But there is definitely something inside you."
"A demon?" Dean offers. Sam wordlessly pulls down his shirt, revealing his intact tattoo. Well, it was worth asking.
"No, if it was a being I'd be able to see their face. But I see no face at all, not even Sam's. I don't understand, this has never happened before." Everything that happens to this family is unprecedented, does God hate us or something?
"Well, what does that mean?" Dean asks. Cas looks at Dean apologetically.
"I don't know. But you're right that something is very wrong here." Cas slowly and carefully walks towards Sam, seemingly trying to get a closer look. His eyes scan Sam up and down, but he suddenly stops and takes a step back to look at Dean. "Sam... does smell like a demon." Dean is glad he's seated for that particular bomb. He's rendered completely speechless, this is his worst nightmare. His brother turning into a monster. Dean doesn't have the chance to recover from that gut punch before Sam explodes.
"FUCK!" He screams "That is not what I meant, Cas!" Dean makes eye contact with his mom, who seems just as confused as he is.
"Well then what did you mean, Sam?" He asks, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. Instead of an answer, Sam lets out a gutwrenching scream. One born of anger, frustration, and pain. Dean's instincts kick in and he goes to Sam, to check if he's okay and bring him to a seated position. But Sam pushes him away, knocking him down into a chair.
"I've got this under control, okay?! I need you guys to trust me. I'm not some psycho, I'm Sam fucking Winchester!" He screams. "Stop worrying about me, I'm fine!"
"I'm sorry, Sam, but no." His mom says softly. "We're your family. We're gonna worry about you."
"Yeah, especially when you smell like a demon." Dean concurs. Sam does not take this well, letting out another wail and slamming his fists into the table. As he does so, the chairs around it go flying back sending both Dean and his mom ass over teakettle. Okay, we have a very different problem on our hands now. Dean scrambles to his feet, as does she. When they get up, they both look at Sam with wild and confused eyes. Sam is panting, catching his breath before calmly saying a simple:
"I'm handling it, okay? I am. I just need a little bit of patience. A little trust. Please." A little TRUST? Dude just displayed accidental telekinesis and he wants us to trust him? Dean shakes his head.
"No, Sam. You really wanna move on like that didn't just happen? Like you didn't just display a lack of control over fucking psychic powers?"
"I'm dealing with it the best I can-"
"And I have every reason to believe that." Dean sarcastically spits, glaring daggers into Sam. He's about had it with Sam asking for trust he hasn't earned.
"Yeah, you do! I'm not a liar, Dean. I don't keep secrets. If I couldn't handle it, I'd tell you!"
"Oh, sure. You're an open book. If you don't count Ruby. Or the demon blood. Or putting a tail on Benny. Or removing the mark behind my back. Or the hallucinations. You thought you could handle those too, and you almost died! And let's not forget all the poor judgement calls you were so sure of. Following your visions to the cage, leaving Kevin alone to rot, leaving Charlie unsupervised with the intel she had, unleashing the darkness, and-oh yeah, the entire damn apocalypse!" Dean is screaming now too.
"I was following your example, Dean! You've fucked up plenty yourself, but I still trust you to make the smart choice. Or at least try to get why you made the dumb ones! I have never blamed you for breaking the first seal because you were tortured into it, but God forbid I fuck up at all! Hell, Dean, you knew my stance on po-" Sam takes a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself down but he starts back up at the same level of intensity. "You knew my wishes but you still let Gadreel into me. Even after that, I still trust you! Because you're my brother and I know you think you're doing what's right. But dude, so do I! I'm doing what's right, I'm keeping myself in check. All I'm asking for is that same level of respect. If I say I'm good, I need you to trust that. You can't keep me prisoner here forever!" Sam's tone is plenty angry, so much so that it's hard for Dean to pay attention to Sam's words. Something about Sam trusting Dean? He brought up Gadreel at some point, meaning he still blames Dean for saving his fucking life. Dean opens his mouth to yell at Sam for holding that against him but-
"BOYS!" Their mom yells, getting everyone's attention. "You're doing nothing but slinging mud at each other. Sam, Dean's right to be worried. Something is going on with you and it's not okay. Regardless of personal history" She says with a glare to Dean. He quickly averts his eyes, and looks at Cas. Cas' brows are raised, he gives Dean a single-shoulder shrug "what's happening in the present is serious. He's doing his best to help you, but it's hard when we don't know what's wrong. When something is wrong with one of us, something's wrong with all of us. And, from my understanding, you have a habit of trying to take on too much by yourself until it all comes spilling out. Dean's just scared that's what's happening here. We're all ears for anything you can tell us, Sammy. Figure out the rules of your... your gag order and we work around them until we come to an understanding. Dean, the past is the past and it should stay there. It's irrelevant and shouldn't be brought up. Sam is a grown man, and he knows himself well enough to know his limits. I think it's time that you loosen your grip a little bit and let him prove he can be trusted. If something goes wrong, we can deal with it then. But you're never gonna move past this if he doesn't get the chance to show you he's okay. He's right that we can't keep him locked up here forever, and we shouldn't. Next job, he's your partner. Capiche?" She looks between the two of them, waiting for them to make up. Dean sighs, looking to Cas for a green light. Cas gives a small reassuring nod.
"Capiche." Dean affirms. His mom makes a pretty good mediator. She would've made one hell of a mother if she'd had the chance.
"Capiche. Thanks, Mom. For what it's worth, I think you're right. There is a chance of this boiling over and I wish I could prepare you. But it hasn't been my good luck preventing another murder spree." Sam mumbles, suddenly a lot calmer. Dean's glad to hear Sam admit it, but it does put him on edge.
"Be honest with me, Sammy, what was that?" He asks, pointing at the chairs scattered across the floor. If Dean's gonna lengthen the rope, he needs every scrap of information he can get.
"I've been putting my time in lockup to good use, learning how to.. to deal. That was a side-effect of my...uh... my treatment. It shouldn't happen again, it's just early in the morning and hasn't settled yet. Exact same situation happens an hour from now and the chairs stay put."
"You- your treatment?" Dean asks. What the fuck could that possibly be? Sam shrugs, intentionally casual.
"I found a spell. It's been helping me out but... sometimes... before it gets properly absorbed, weird stuff happens." Sam shifts his weight uncomfortably. Dean looks to Adam, who has been the one here day-to-day, for confirmation.
"Weird stuff?" Dean repeats.
"A couple days ago at breakfast, a plate flew into the wall." Adam admits calmly. As though he sees flying plates every day.
"You didn't think to mention that?" Dean asks accusatorily. Adam just shrugs.
"Sam's not some monster, Dean. From what I've seen, he's handling himself really well." Adam's eyes harden like he's gearing for a fight. "Well enough that a single broken plate didn't shake my faith in the slightest. I don't know what he's doing but it seems to be working and that's good enough for me." Dean can't help but feel a bit insulted by Adam's snarky tone. There seems to be something on Adam's mind, and Dean would rather he just say it instead of tiptoeing around it.
"Oh, yeah? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks, daring Adam to say he knows Sam better than Dean, or that Dean is being too harsh, or whatever difference he's trying to place between the two of them.
"Settle." His mom commands, placing a hand on Dean's arm. "Castiel, do you mind helping us?"
"I'll try to find out what I can. My... blurred vision is unusual." Cas turns from Mary to Dean. "Take your brother out, but watch him closely." Castiel instructs.
That will have to be good enough. Dean knows they could argue for days over whether Sam stays or goes, but he has been entirely outvoted. Dean sighs and looks at Sam, eyes wide in expectation.
"Alright. You're officially on parole. But we stick together, got it?"
"Wouldn't expect anything else," Sam agrees, though he doesn't seem too happy about the arrangement.
"Speaking of, I found something I think you'll like," Adam says with an almost off-putting grin.
"Whatcha got?" Dean asks. Adam gestures for him to follow, so they all parade to the library. On the way, Sam gives Dean a similarly giddy smile.
"Can't wait to see your face." Dean doesn't like the sound of that. He doesn't like surprises and the way they've both emphasized whatever it is has him on high-alert. Adam sits in front of his computer, Dean stands behind him and looks at the black screen. The second Adam turns it on, an image pops up that stops him in place.
"Is that-?"
"Yup." Sam answers. "Adam tracked us down some amazons. Figured this would be the one for me to come in on, you know?" A great case for Sam to start back with, that's for damn sure.
"Hell yeah, it is." Dean replies emphatically. This would be an awkward one to take their mom on, and if something is important to one of them it's important to both of them. This one matters to Dean, so it matters to Sam. He's still wary about Sam leaving the bunker, but his family is correct that he can't stay locked up forever. It wouldn't be right. And Dean misses having his right hand man at his side. He loves his mom, but hunting with her just isn't the same. It'll be fun to have Sam riding shotgun again, even if Dean's eyes will be glued to him the entire time.
Sam sings along (off-key) to Highway to Hell in the car, enjoying the drive far more than he should. He feels like he could take on the world. Carry the sun across the sky. Raise the dead and give sight to the blind. In short, he feels powerful and high. His first hunt in about three months. He is a little nervous, Dean's gonna have something to say about Sam cuffing himself at night. He figured he could leave the holy oil at home since he can just give the keys to Dean. Dean side-eyes him, and Sam realizes just how out of character the singing is for him. He clears his throat and tries to calm down.
"Sorry... I just-" But Dean holds up a hand.
"Don't stop on my account. It's good to see you smile, Sammy." Sam gives Dean a small awkward smile. It's clear Dean is on-edge about their conversation with Cas, and Sam is too. Sam figured Cas would be able to see right through him and straight to Lucifer. Maybe he's keeping Lucifer so far down that Cas can't see him? That must be it, there's no other explanation. He could've done without Cas telling his family he smelled demonic, though he should've expected it. He readjusts the flask in his boot, it's not the most comfortable place for it but it is the most hidden. Sam is slightly worried about this field trip, it's not like he could pack bottles and bottles of the stuff or convince Dean to let him bring his basement demon. He's going to have to make what he's got work. Or find a local demon loyal to Lucifer. It's weird, the way they seem to worship a creator that hates them so passionately.
A few weeks ago, he'd snuck out and driven a bit out of town just to not be trapped in the bunker. He'd wandered into a music store, for something to do. He'd picked up a classical music CD, study music for Adam. As he was checking out, the clerk called him "My lord" which freaked Sam right the fuck out. Lucifer had found the situation hilarious and told Sam the demon's name: Elias. So Sam called the clerk by that name, despite his nametag saying "Calvin" and the clerk flashed black eyes in response. Sam asked Lucifer where Elias' loyalties lie, and the answer was deeply unnerving.
"With us. Most demons, they're desperate for my return. For our return. They worship the ground we walk on." Sam hated Lucifer's habit of referring to the two of them as an "us," but it's not like he could've argued against it.
"Follow me, sir. There's something I think you might enjoy in the back." Sam considered whether or not he should follow, he knew getting involved with demons never went well for him. But... Lucifer was getting loud again and he could kill the demon if things went wrong so he followed Elias to the stockroom. Once they were alone, Elias turned to face him.
"We await your return, My Lord. Now that you're in your vessel, Hell and Earth are yours for the taking." He thinks I'm Lucifer. Sam had realized with a grin. He immediately put a hand on his hips and straightened his back, mimicking Lucifer's casual stance.
"I'm on sabbatical, having some R&R with my favorite playthings, you understand. Let Crowley puff his chest out and pretend he's in charge." Sam said, copying Lucifer's speaking cadance perfectly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lucifer asked, clearly stunned at Sam's impression. Taking full advantage of our resemblence.
"Of course, but sir, we need you. You made us, and we are lost without you." The demon begged, virtually on its knees.
"Yes, and I've regretted it every day since. You are nothing but twisted versions of my father's worst creation." An exaggerated sigh, meant to demonstrate consideration. "I'll return in good time." Sam felt a swell of what was either happiness or pride from the corner of his mind Lucifer resided in. You know I'm lying, why are you acting like I'm not?
"Because you're not." Lucifer replied. Sam needed to shut him up quick. And he was standing before a demon. The demon grabbed a boxcutter from a shelf and sliced his own arm open, as if he'd read Sam's mind.
"Please, it would be an honor." A twinge of excitement, this demon just opened a vein in pure reverence. There's something oddly seductive about it, having a group of people so surely under your thumb that they do what you want without being asked. Sam knew if he said "jump" Elias would ask "How high?" Then jump about 20 feet higher than he said.
Sam comes out of the memory, thinking of the power he felt in that moment. He was the one in charge for once, capable of bending an army to his will if he so desires. Of course, he doesn't want that. Why would he? Lucifer doesn't say anything, but Sam feels the emotional response to his line of thinking. It's one of melancholy. Pity, almost. Sam doesn't know how to respond to that, he didn't think the devil had it in him. But why? Why would Lucifer be feeling pity for Sam in this moment?
"We gotta track down their hideout, we can't go searching for individual women." Dean says, a bucket of cold water on Sam's face bringing him back to the job.
"Yeah. Yeah, it was a warehouse last time. But that's a needle in a haystack and we got a week tops before they go underground again." Sam blinks hard, readjusting his eyes.
"Exactly. I was thinking we find one, stake out her house, then follow the car that takes the kid and-"
"Go in guns blazing?" Sam finishes, Dean nods. "You're celibate again, can't take the risk." Sam cracks a smile, they both need levity right now.
"No argument here." Dean puts his hands up in mock surrender.
Dean pulls into the Tulsa police station, parking his car as his phone rings. Sam picks it up and checks the screen.
"It's... a fallen archangel?" Sam says, giving Dean a confused headshake. Lucifer by any other name...would be as dead.
"What?" Dean asks, snatching the phone from Sam's hand. 666 "It's Crowley, dumbass. What's with the 'he who must not be named'?"
"Gag order. I gotta use an epithet." There's a clue, thank god. He can't say Lucifer. Maybe I should've taken him hunting sooner, would've gotten more information that way. But what the fuck is-
"An epithet?" Dean repeats, wanting a definition. Sam points to the still ringing cell in Dean's hand.
"Dude, the phone." Sam reaches for it, but Dean holds a hand up defensively.
"Alright, alright, alright. I got it." Dean answers the phone and holds it to his ear. "Crowley-"
"Dean. You and I have a problem." Judging by his tone, Dean must've done something to piss him off. "One of the best and brightest I left in your town for YOUR PROTECTION has stopped checking in!"
"We don't need demons for protec-" Dean starts, but Crowley is apparently on a roll and refuses to be cut off.
"Oh, yes, because you're immortal, I forgot. Well some of us need to keep up appearances. Nobody wanted the bloody Winchester assignment, but I thought we had an understanding. You stay out of my way, I help you out. We go our separate ways until we try to kill each other again."
"Crowley-" Dean speaks up, but Crowley's isn't finished.
"Demons don't just drop off my radar! What did you do?"
"Crowley, hand to God, I got no clue why your guy went AWOL. We've all been keeping pretty far apart from each other. They haven't caused us any trouble so we left them alone."
"And Thing Two?"
"Sam's got an alibi, he hasn't left the bunker for months." There's silence on the other line. Dean is about to say something when Crowley finds some words.
"Why's he a shut-in all of a sudden?"
"Bye, Crowley." Dean hangs up and slips the phone into his pocket.
"What'd Crowley want?" Sam asks, somewhere between shocked and confused.
"One of the demons he sent to Lebanon left their post, he thought we killed them." Sam chuckles, and Dean can't help but laugh along. Somthing about having Sam back in the car has lightened both of their moods. It's been a while since they've been able to just... laugh together. "Just so I can tell him I asked, you don't know anything right?"
"No, haven't seen her." Suddenly the joking is over for Dean, though Sam keeps grinning. Her? Dean's face flattens, he waits to see if Sam picks up on what he just said. Sam leans his head forward, his brows meet above his nose.
"Dean?" Sam asks, confused.
"How'd you know it's a her?" Dean asks, deadly serious. He's not sure if this is a problem yet. Killing a demon isn't a crime, hiding it is suspicious. "My first guess woulda been the toothpick teen." Sam shrugs and shifts in his seat, averting his gaze. Whatever he says next is gonna be a lie, Dean recognizes from his body language.
"Odds and probability? Two-thirds chance it's a girl." Dean eyes Sam up and down. He's uncomfortable. Dean is too.
"Sam, you are not in a position to be lying to me right now. Gonna ask you one more time, and your next answer better be the truth. Do you know what happened to Crowley's demon?" Dean doesn't break eye contact, his face severe. Sam sighs, clearly too tired to argue.
"Diner waitress, she broke in. Started talking about-" Sam cuts himself off, though it's a lot less sharp than it has been any other time he tries to violate the gag order. A lot smoother and less sudden. "She just started talking. Things got messy, but I dealt with it." That's a good enough explanation, but then..
"Why lie?" Dean asks. Sam scoffs and gestures at his closed mouth.
"I'm surprised I was able to tell you anything at all. Figured lying would be easier." Dean can understand the logic, but Sam's just plain wrong. If Sam can't tell him something, that means they're pressing the right button.
"Every time you can't tell us something, we get new information. I need to know that Crowley's demons are breaking in and saying stuff that you can't repeat."
"Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't think of it like that." Sam puts his hands up in surrender. Dean nods once, filing this one under "minor problems that might be signs of a bigger problem that I can't solve right now."
"Good talk. Let's go." Dean gets out of the car, as does Sam. "You still remember how to do this?" He asks, meeting him in front of the car.
"Yeah, we tell them they've got a monster problem in their city and our job is hunting them down." Sam's deadpan delivery makes Dean crack a smile as he opens the door to a pretty normal police station. A front desk, a TV, some blue chairs and benches, dedication plaques. Things Dean has seen a hundred times before. Sitting behind the front desk is a blond young man who is busy with something on the computer. He doesn't look up as Sam and Dean approach the desk, pulling their badges from their pockets. Dean clears his throat, getting his attention.
"Agents Tyler and Perry. Here about the gentlemen who misplaced their hands and feet." Dean explains.
"Wait here." He goes... somewhere. Dean can't really see from where he's standing. Sam takes a deep breath behind him, as though he's settling his nerves. Dean feels a weird (and definitely not sexist) relief when the two people who shake their hands are men. They could do without monsters meddling in their investigation. One looks to be in his late 50s, stocky build with greying hair, pale skin, and a no-nonsense look in his eyes. The other is the closest they've ever seen a man get to Sam's height. A dark-skinned man in his 40s with warm eyes and a buzz cut.
"Sheriff Holt, this is Detective Conners." The shorter man says. "I'm not trying to fray any nerves but why's the FBI in on this?"
"These murders are connected to cases in Seattle, Chicago, and Miami. Whoever our guy is, he's looking at federal charges." Sam answers.
"Come on." The sheriff grumbles, clearly not looking for help but not in a position to turn it away. They follow him back to his office, where he pulls a file folder from his desk.
"Autopsy reports." He says as he hands it to Sam. "First victim is Nathan Long, age thirty-seven. Second is Jeremy Cohen, age twenty-six. Jeremy graduated high school at fourteen, law school at twenty. Good kid, smart. He was going somewhere, you know?" He speaks wistfully. Clearly he knew the victim.
"So he was successful?" Dean clarifies. The sheriff nods his head.
"Nathan was no slouch either, investment banker who co-owned a successful business on the side. They're both well-known in the community, families and companies to run. They're people others would miss, you know?" The detective adds. Dean nods silently. "That match the victims in the other cases?"
"To a tee," Sam replies with a knowing smile at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes, assuming he's in for a lot of these little jabs. It'll be worth it if they succeed at their little genocide plan.
"In the other cases, the victims all went to the same bar. Anything like that here?" Dean probes, hoping for a name.
"Nathan owned a bar called The Money Pit. Jeremy... I'm not sure. Jeff?" Detective Conners looks to the sheriff.
"Jeremy didn't drink, but my son dragged him off to Homer's about a week ago. It's an upscale bar about ten minutes from here." The sheriff replies. Dean looks to Sam.
"Sounds like we have a couple places to check out." Dean pulls his own card from his wallet, handing it to the detective. "We'll be in touch." Handshakes go back and forth before Sam and Dean leave, only speaking freely once they're safely in their car.
"Alright, I'll take The Money Pit, you take Homer's?" Sam suggests hopefully. Dean shakes his head emphatically. He has to know what I'm gonna say.
"No, remember the terms of your parole. We stick together."
"Dude, someone could die because of this 'parole' bullshit. It's better to divide and conquer, and you know it." Any other day, Sam would be right. But right here, right now? No way.
"There's a three day timer on anything that happens tonight. I'm not taking my eyes off you." Dean insists. This is not up for debate, but Sam seems to think it is.
"I don't need to be babysat, Dean-" He's getting riled up, trying to argue. But Dean isn't willing to budge on this.
"Too bad. Which bar are we going to?" Sam sighs, giving up.
"The one the victim owned." He grumbles, turning his gaze out the window. Let him pout. It's not like Dean wants to babysit a grown man. Especially given he knows how capable Sam usually is. This is a shitty situation for everyone involved, but it's what they got. If Dean has to glue himself to his brother, that's what he'll do. But he's not gonna let Hell take him.
"Woah." Dean breathes with stars in his eyes as they walk into the bar. The Money Pit is definitely an on-theme name for the place. Dollar bills cover the walls, the floor patterned with gold coins. There are yellow and green lights in the shape of dollar signs flashing across the room. Towards the back are golden pool tables, the cue handles patterned to look as though cash is wrapped around it. The menu is printed on a giant $100 bill, and there's a shiny gold ball pit intended for grown adults to dive in like Scrooge McDuck. "I'm headed there." Dean points at the ballpit and starts walking in that direction. Sam grabs him by the collar.
"We're working." Sam explains. Dean seems dejected, but he stops. Sam weaves around the busy bar, glancing down at various women's wrists. He realizes that Dean isn't following him, and turns to find Dean standing at the front door, pretending to check coats and restraining himself from diving into the ball pit. Is he... scared to talk to women? Dean notices Sam noticing him and shrugs before shooing Sam towards the bar. Sam figures holding a drink might make him look more open than he is and approaches it. It's weird, he's doing Dean's job right now. He raps at the bar to get the bartender's attention. A young blonde woman wearing a black lowcut shirt, a nametag printed with a mini $50 bill reads Amber. She looks barely old enough to drink herself. Sam glances down at her wrist, finding it clean. Sam doesn't feel up to socializing as a civillian and pulls his badge out of his pocket.
"You here for a drink or the murder?" Amber asks flatly.
"Both. I'll take a..." Sam's eyes quickly scan the menu, the drink he orders doesn't really matter. "Dollar Williams draught and a few minutes of your time."
"You got it." She turns and pours a pint, putting it on a napkin in front of Sam. "How can I help?"
"Can you describe the woman Nathan took home a few days before his death?" He asks hopefully. Amber laughs in response.
"You're gonna have to narrow it down a bit. He took a different girl home every night. A rich handsome man like him attracted girls like flies to shit." Sam turns towards Dean, just to see if he's found anything. He watches a woman push past a distracted Dean. He's focused on Sam rather than the task at hand. Sam throws him a look, trying to say Pay attention. Dean pretends he wasn't just watching Sam in fear that he'd go on a murder spree, shifting his gaze to the ballpit behind Sam. Bet not diving into that thing is torture for him. Sam draws the amazon's symbol on the napkin and slides it towards her.
"She would've had this mark on her wrist?" She takes the napkin and studies the image.
"Doesn't ring a bell." She replies with a frown.
Sam pulls a business card from his pocket. "If you happen to see it, please give me a call." She takes it slowly, extending the contact.
"Can I call you if I don't see it?" She asks seductively. Sam doesn't know how to navigate this situation. He's got the devil in him and now is simply not the time. I need to start wearing a wedding ring. He scoffs.
"We're both on the clock." He answers. He takes his beer and scans the room. The bar is busy, it would be a lot easier to sort through everyone if Dean was participating. But Dean is once again staring at Sam, who is getting sick of that. He marches right up to Dean.
"Hey, anything?" Dean asks. Sam shakes his head.
"Not yet. You need to focus." Sam demands.
"I'm focused." Dean insists, though Sam is less than convinced.
"Yeah, on me." Sam fires back.
"Cas said-"
"I know what Cas said, but we're working a job here. You're missing people." Sam explains. Dead nods sharply.
"Alright. Go. And stay outta that ball pit." Dean orders. Sam wanders towards the woman who pushed past Dean, figuring with their luck she'd be the amazon. She's settled herself at a standing table, a shiny gold cocktail resting on it. Looks to be in her early thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She's dressed like a professional, a black blazer and a pencil skirt. Her features are sharp, her eyes hard. It wouldn't surprise Sam in the slightest to find out she was a trained fighter. He sets his drink on the table.
"Mind if I join you?" Sam smiles at her.
"No, plenty of room." She replies, returning the smile. Unfortunately, her wrist is still hidden thanks to Dean's dereliction of duty so he can't immediately see if she has the brand. Sam doesn't really know what to say next. Dean's always been better at this than him. Sam notices a silver watch peeking through from underneath her sleeve and decides to latch onto that.
"Do you know how much longer this place is open?" Sam asks. She rolls her sleeve up to check her watch, revealing nothing but clear skin. Sam's eyes flash to Dean and he gives a small headshake.
"They close at two and it's eleven-thirty right now so... we've got a few hours. I've never seen you here before, you new to town?" She asks with a sly smile.
"Not exactly. My job sends me all over." Sam needs to think of a way to exit this conversation, there are so many other women here he needs to check and Dean not doing his fucking job adds more to his load. He pulls his badge out of his pocket. "I'm actually here for work right now, the owner of this bar-"
"I heard about Nate. Real shame. He was a popular guy."
"So I've heard. I'm looking for the woman he left with a couple nights before he died. She's a person of interest." The woman laughs.
"You're looking for a needle in a haystack, Honey."
"Any information you can-." Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket, he pulls it out and checks it. Eileen is calling. "I gotta take this."
"Hey, Sam!" She pauses to take in the room Sam's in. "Where are you?"
"A bar. Dean got convinced to bring me out on a job. Finally!" Sam signs. He can't really speak freely in front of civilians, he just has to hope this one doesn't know ASL. The woman's brows go up, impressed. Eileen repeats his "Finally" in support and agreement before he continues. "Amazons. We're scouting for them."
"Congrats on coming off house arrest." She signs back without speaking, understanding the situation. "I stumbled on an amazon hunt last cycle. I managed to get one, but the species lived on."
"Us too, the one before that. They're a sore subject for Dean. He spawned one."
"He did what?"
"A story for another time, but yeah. I killed my niece. Dean was really confused and unnerved by the whole situation, he's hoping for redemption this time around."
"And how are you doing? First hunt since whatever happened?"
"I needed this, Eileen. It's a chance to prove I can be trusted. That I don't need a chaperone."
"Is Dean with you or did he let you actually let you handle it like a grown adult?" Sam flips the phone camera around and aims it at Dean, sure enough still eyeing him suspiciously. Dean waves and mouths "Hi Eileen," "Oh my god." Eileen facepalms. "Well, you can't both be distracted. Get back to work, call me when you get home?"
"I will. See you later."
"Bye, Sam."
He hangs up and the woman excuses herself to the restroom. The rest of the night passes slowly. Sam must've checked twenty women at least, not a single one of them branded. Dean supposedly checked every woman as they entered the bar, but it seems like he found nothing as well. Sam spilled drinks on women chatting up men who fit the profile, Dean almost got punched when he got too insistent on taking a woman's coat. The bartender had to be talked down from kicking the both of them out. Eventually, closing time came and the night was a complete bust. They were turned out onto the streets, having gotten no sleep, no leads, and no blood for Sam.
"Struck out on a hunt, huh?" Lucifer says with mock concern as Sam climbs into the car.
"I told you, we should've split up." Sam starts as soon as the doors are shut.
"We'll check the other bar tomorrow. It's not a big deal."
"Big brother doesn't always know best, Sam. Lesson I had to learn the hard way. But it works out because now I get to pass all my knowledge onto you!" Lucifer sounds excited. Sam ignores him, he can't get distracted.
"Tomorrow might be too late for some poor bastard. And who knows? Maybe this was the right bar but you missed something because you were too busy making sure I didn't Prince Oberyn anybody!"
"Making sure you didn't what?" Dean asks, caught up on the wrong detail here.
"Really, Sam? Game of Thrones?" Lucifer chides.
"You were paying attention to what I was doing instead of doing your job. That's the kind of shit that gets people killed!" Sam is trying not to yell, that will only make things worse. But he's frustrated. Why was Sam the only one working tonight? Dean doesn't usually let fear paralyze him like it did just then. Dean can't be getting sloppy, they got a limited window of time before these bitches go underground again.
"I paid attention, we just went to the wrong bar. Stop it with the 'I told you so' alright? I'm fine being wrong for a night if it means we stay together. We'll get it right tomorrow, okay?" Dean sounds frazzled, he doesn't want to grapple with the possibility that he could ever be wrong.
"Who's gonna die because we got it wrong tonight, Dean?" Sam asks quietly, it's a question he really wants Dean to consider. In lieu of an answer, Dean tightens his lips and presses play on the tapedeck.
Dean wakes up in a motel the following morning to find Sam not in his bed. He feels in his pockets and finds the keys to the handcuffs still inside.
"Keep these in your pocket, don't put them down anywhere I can get to them." Sam had said as he handed them over to him. Dean was confused, but willing to follow Sam's lead when it came to coping with whatever was going on.
"You got it, Sammy." Dean replied. "Anything else I can do?"
"Just... don't judge me too harshly." Sam answered. "Some of the stuff I've had to do, I know will piss you off. Try to understand that I don't have a choice in this. And neither do you." Sam's voice was deadly serious, Dean's blood turned to ice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean felt compelled to ask.
"I can't answer that right now. But you're smart and you'll put it together eventually. Try to hear me out when that happens." Dean didn't like the sound of that, he still doesn't. But he'd promised Sam nonetheless. Still though, Sam not being in his bed got Dean's hackles up.
"Sammy?" He calls out.
"I'm in here!" Sam's voice from the bathroom.
"You alright? I still got the keys on me!"
"Yeah, I'll be out in a second." That's good enough for Dean. He hears the sink start running and moves onto getting himself ready for the day, pulling his shirt over his head. He assumes today is a suit day and buttons up the jacket. He pulls his boots on and ties them. Sam is still in the bathroom when Dean's phone rings. It's not a saved number, but it is a local area code. He answers it.
"Hello?"
"Agent Tyler?" A man's voice answers. It sounds like the detective they spoke to yesterday.
"Speaking."
"There's been another murder. Can I text this number the address?"
"Yeah, we'll meet you there."
"Be quick. I wanna bury this son of a bitch as soon as possible." He sounds angry and not even a little bit professional.
"Can do." Dean walks to the bathroom door and knocks.
"Sam, hurry up, will ya? Another body dropped." Sam opens the door, out of breath. He's holding pressure on a cut on his palm. There are the remnants of a burning sigil in the sink, it's too degraded by the running water for Dean to be able to tell what it was.
"What happened?" Dean asks, nodding his head towards the wound.
"Spell. No big deal." Sam replies, holding his hands up. "Keys?" Dean pulls them from his pocket and unlocks the cuffs around Sam's wrists.
The address the detective gave leads the brothers to a penthouse. They get to the door, where a cop holds up a hand.
"Active crime scene, you can't come in here." Through the door, Dean can see the detective kneeling next to the body. A black man wearing a torn suit, sure enough featuring an art project by the amazons. Sam pulls his badge out from inside his coat and the detective notices them.
"It's alright, Keener. They're FBI." The detective waves them in. This place is decked out. Fancy art and sculptures everywhere, huge windows overlooking the city, a smart fridge. A rich dude for sure. The detective stands up and shakes hands with the brothers. His eyes are red, he looks like he's been crying.
"Victim is Jack Conners, age thirty-five. Real estate mogul and philanthropist. No enemies. The kind of guy who'd give you the shirt off his back." The detective gets choked up, his eyes fix to the ceiling to prevent tears. "I'm sorry. I just... damn, you know?"
"Conners?" Sam repeats.
"My brother." Detective Conners answers. "I'm gonna bury this monster." His eyes go dark and his nostrils flair in anger. Dean can definitely relate to that kind of rage, the grief of losing a brother.
"Leave it to us, we'll handle it." Dean assures him. "Did he ever go to either of the bars the other vics went to?" The detective nods his head.
"Homer's. Every Friday night, like clockwork." Dean makes eye contact with Sam, who shrugs and grimaces. I told you so. Dean hears without Sam saying it. Dean rolls his eyes."I know this falls under your jurisdiction but I need to do this." The detective adds. The hidden request being vigilante justice, which is also Dean's plan but he doesn't want the detective getting hurt.
"Okay. I'm gonna level with you, Detective. We're dealing with a group here." Dean starts.
"Dean-!" Sam interupts him. Dean holds a hand up to silence him.
"A cult, to be clear. One the bureau has been after for a while. I'm gonna have to ask you to step aside for a bit, we're looking at a Waco situation here." Dean explains
"All due respect, Agent, my brother is dead." Dean doesn't know how to tell this man to back down. He's not cut out for this fight but he's being stubborn. Sam manages to come through on this one though.
"I get where you're coming from, man. My brother was killed too. I dedicated everything I had to getting revenge on everyone who had anything to do with his death." Dean isn't sure which death he's referring to, but he knows it's his turn to shut up when he looks at the detective. He's listening intently, waiting for the moral to Sam's tale. Sam clears his throat, seemingly getting distracted by something before continuing. "Every time I brought someone down, I just got angrier and angrier. I got consumed by it all, it was the only thing I could think about. I thought my rage would lessen but it only grew. I got sloppy, my grief completely blinded me to the big picture. Eventually, I completed my mission but I lost a part of myself in the process. And good people got hurt because of it. You gotta realize when you're too close to something to do your job effectively. I'm sorry for your loss, truly. But for your brother's sake, let us handle it."
"I'll call you personally once things are resolved, alright?" Dean offers. The detective nods noncommittally. "I promise you, we will bring these bastards down." Sam and Dean leave the penthouse and head back to the car. Dean gets into the driver's seat and notices Sam isn't right behind him. He glances out the window and sees Sam drinking from a flask. Slightly weird, but worse things have happened. Sam gets into the car after wiping his face.
"I told you so." Sam says as soon as he's inside.
"Shut up." Dean replies. "We go to Homer's." Dean pulls a GPS tracker from the glovebox. "Find an Amazon, put one of these on her. Don't start a fight in the bar, we follow her home."
"I got it!" Sam insists, a sudden burst of anger coming out of nowhere. The tracker flies out of Dean's hand, landing on the dashboard. Sam quickly grabs it and puts it back in the glovebox.
"You feeling okay?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine! I'm not an idiot, Dean. I know not to start a fight in a bar. Let's just get there and get this done as quickly as possible."
Early in the night, Sam and Dean head to Homer's. The place seems heavily inspired by ancient Rome, weirdly enough. Busts and colums on every available surface. A far cry from Dean's usual dive. No billards to speak of, but there are arcade games which is... something. Dean stops at the front door, intending on doing the same thing tonight as last night. He doesn't want to mingle while those amazon freaks are out there. Sam turns to face him.
"Are you coming?" He asks.
"I'm coat-checking. Go, practice your people skills." Dean says with a nudge. Sam wanders off towards the bar for a drink. Dean deliberately turns and faces the front door, away from Sam. He needs to trust his brother, and he knows if he faces Sam he won't be able to look at anything but him. He needs to focus on the task at hand, they have to find one tonight. When nobody walks through the front door for several minutes, Dean can no longer resist the urge to check on his brother. He sees Sam sitting next to a woman at the bar, "admiring her bracelet." That's my boy. The door opens behind Dean, a man walks in. Dean looks him up and down. He's got a solid build, clearly someone who works out. Dean supresses the urge to squeeze this guy's bicep. The man is around Dean's height with dark hair and eyes, a jawline you could slice deli meat with. Dean finds himself weirdly flustered as he offers to take his coat, but the man looks at him confused.
"Did we hire a new attendant?" He asks. Shit.
"Uh.. um.. yeah. New attendant, that's me. Do you work here?" The words fall out of Dean's mouth with absolutely zero input from his brain. The man nods.
"I'm supposed to be on tonight. Let me call Reggie-"
"No need, no need. You're uh... free to go. It's Miller time." The man smirks at Dean babbling like an idiot.
"I can't just leave because you told me to." Dean sighs and pulls his badge from his pocket, his get out of jail free card.
"You can if it's a matter of national security." Dean puffs his chest out, suddenly finding a shred of competence. The man bites his lower lip, eyeing Dean up and down though Dean keeps his gaze steady.
"I'm getting myself a drink, let me know if you want one." He says before strutting off to the bar, Dean sizes the man up as he goes. He catches Sam looking at him and gives him a thumbs-up. Sam grins, clearly finding something funny. What was that about? Dean spins back around and faces the door again. A woman walks in, all alone. Long, straight black hair and delicate features hidden with harsh makeup. She wears a fur-lined coat over a minidress. Her eyes dart around the place like it's her first time in a bar. Dean feels tempted to ID her, but instead he sticks to the plan.
"May I take your coat, ma'am?" He offers. She nods, and as Dean does so he notes the brand on her wrist. He moves on as if he didn't see it. "Have a nice night, ma'am." He hands her a number for her coat before she heads towards the bar. He catches Sam's eye and nods towards the woman. Sam nods back in understanding and meets her. Dean carries her coat into the coatcheck room. He pulls a knife from his pocket and pops the seam binding the fur lining to the rest of the coat. About an inch is all her needs, and he doesn't take a centimeter more. He slides the tracker into the hole, and wiggles it down to the bottom where she's least likely to notice it. Dean considers whether he should leave the hole or sew it back up. Sewing a coat can't be too different from suturing a wound, right? He hangs the woman's coat up and slips out the front door to get a needle and surgical thread from the car. He pops the trunk, digging around a bit before finding what he came for. Something glistens inside of Sam's open duffle, catching Dean's attention. Dean tugs the bag towards him to get a better look. Inside, he sees not one but two archangel blades. Where the hell did he get a second one? Dean wonders. Whose is it? I'll have to ask him later. Dean slides the needle and thread into his pocket before returning to the bar. He immediately searches the room for Sam, finding him talking to the amazon.
"I'm guess I'm just better than my competitors." Sam says with a dazzling smile, clearly whatever he's doing is working. The amazon is giving him all her attention. Dean slides back into the coatcheck, sews up the hole (it looks pretty good, if he says so himself), and walks back out. He strides up to the usual attendant, patting him on the shoulder.
"You're back on duty, hombre." The man groans, exaggerating his dismay. Dean heads for the front door, waving Sam over. Sam awkwardly excuses himself from the woman's company, and meets up with Dean. As soon as they're outside, they both start laughing at each other.
"'I'm better than my competitors?' Dude what kinda stories were you spinning her?" Dean asks lightheartedly. Sam shrugs sheepishly.
"You wrote the script, I just said my lines. What about you and the bouncer?" Sam says with a chuckle.
"What about it?" Dean asks, confused.
"Dude, I could see you eye fucking each other from across the room."
"Shut up. Let's get back and get that tracker turned on, huh?" They get back into the car, the mood is still light. Dean's hesitant to burst that bubble, but now is not the time for secrets. "I wasn't snooping but-"
"Oh, no." Sam whispers. Though if Dean didn't know any better, he'd assume Sam was talking to someone other than him. He's got a thousand-yard stare and his breathing is picking up.
"You okay?" Dean gets no response, so he reaches over and shakes his brother. "Sammy, you with me?" All of a sudden, Sam shuts his eyes tight and he snaps out of whatever trance he was falling in.
"Yeah, I'm with you. What's up?"
"I was gonna say, I was in the trunk and I saw you packed two archangel blades. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we only have the one, right?"
"No. I took Lucifer's." Sam answers casually. But one word in that sentence is out of place.
"You said his name." Dean points out. "What changed?"
"Oh.. I uh.. I guess something I'm doing must be working." Dean nods, accepting that answer and turning the key.
Back at the motel, Sam sits at the desk with his laptop open. Watching the tracker stay put at the bar. Dean's taking a shower, giving Sam an opening to do whatever he needs to. He opens his flask and finds it empty.
"Dean's in the shower, Sam. We gotta go, and we gotta go now." Lucifer insists. Sam has to admit, the devil is right on the money. No blood at all is bad for the both of them and he can't slip away with Dean watching him like a hawk. Sam grabs the hotel stationary and writes a quick note. Went for beer, be back soon. Don't freak out. He puts his flask back in his boot, grabs the demon knife, and slips out the door quietly. He doesn't want to take the car, knowing he'd never hear the end of it if he did. When Sam gets desperate like this, he becomes a lot more sensitive to demon's locations. It doesn't hurt that the squatter in his head seems to have a telepathic link to them. Sam saw a convenience store on the way to the hotel and decides to head in that direction, assuming it would look a lot better to Dean if he shows up with actual beer in hand.
"Good choice. There are a few demons who didn't get the memo that you guys were in town. If I'm right, and I am, they're in the alley next to it."
"Thank you" Sam says out loud. To Lucifer. In this one, very specific instance, he is grateful for the help.
"I can do more if you go easy on the blood this time. The way you've been overdoing it, man I'm practically powerless. But if you'd let me, I'd love to be partners. Friends, even."
"You tortured me." Sam reminds him.
"So? That was years ago, Sam. I've changed. Being in you, it's changed me." An obvious lie. Sam knows that Lucifer knows that Sam knows, but he still continues. "You abandon everyone who makes a mistake? I mean, you're still Dean's number two, and looking through your head he's really done a number on you." It's true, but it's not the same thing. Sam rounds the corner, and sure enough the scent of sulfur fills the air. Two demons are skulking around, sticking to alleyways. Clearly on some kind of mission that Sam intends to interrupt. He doesn't want to give them time to recognize him and barrels towards them, tackling one to the ground. He quickly draws the knife and stabs it into the demon's neck. He hears the other demon vacate its vessel, that's gonna be a problem for him but he's too desperate to care. The demon he's on top of tries to push him off, but stands absolutely no chance. Sam drinks directly from them.
"Sam, remember what we talked about." Lucifer says and tries to pull Sam's face away from the demon. But Sam is stronger and pushes through to keep his lips sunctioned to the demons neck.
"Who-?" The demon starts to ask, but Sam covers their mouth. He doesn't have the time for this and keeps drinking. Finally, once he feels satiated he pulls away, gasping for air. He refills his flask, holding the demon down until it starts to overflow. He stabs the blade into the demons chest and climbs off of it. Only after he's done does he look down at the vessel. A teenage girl wearing a pimple patch. Probably a family who's waiting by the phone for her to call, worried something happened to her. Sam has two bodies on his hands, one of which has his DNA on it, and no time to deal with it. Sam's not sure he wants to, he wants this girl's family to be able to give her a burial. On a Hail Mary, Sam holds a hand over the wound he caused. A blue light streams out of his hand, he guides it like a lazer, cauterizing the cut and hopefully destroying any DNA evidence. Sam is surprised to find it works, that he has access to Lucifer's abilities. That's probably gonna come in handy at some point, might be a good way to clue the others in on what's going on. Sam wipes his mouth on the inside of his shirt, the blood already started to crust.
He heads into the store and goes straight to the bathroom to wash his face. He's being forced to lie to his family about Lucifer, but he's making active choices to decieve them about the blood. He knows Dean would never listen to reason, would never understand that Sam doesn't have a choice. To Dean, the risk to Sam's soul matters more than the world's safety. Sam checks in the mirror and is shocked by what he sees. His eyes, that same swirly yellow as Azazel's. Sam's gotta be hallucinating. He's just gotta be. He tries to keep his head clear but he's terrified by this development. He rubs his eyes and presses on his palm out of habit. He keeps his eyes shut and prays something's changed when they open. He looks back into the mirror and blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Thank fuck, the yellow slowly fades back into the usual hazel. He calms his rapid heartbeat and slows his breathing back to normal. His phone rings in his pocket, it's Dean. Sam knows he's in for it if he doesn't answer, so he does.
"Dean, I-" Sam starts to explain, trying to calm Dean's anger before it starts. He's ostensibly too late for that.
"Where the hell are you?!" Dean yells into the phone.
"I left a note."
"Yeah, a note! Because you knew I'd stop you!"
"Yes, because I knew you'd stop me and I don't need that."
"Get back here. Right now."
"I'm checking out and I'm on my way. No pitstops. I promise."
Dean paces across the motel room, a thousand different possibilities running through his mind. His phone call was ten minutes ago. How far could Sam have gone in that time? The dude knows he's on a short leash, but he broke the damn thing and got out. Sam could be going on another murder mission, he could be running around with a demon tutor, he could be bleeding out somewhere- No. Nope. It's not doing anyone any good to think about all the things that could be happening. Dean's gaze falls to the laptop still open on the desk. They'd left the bar two hours ago and she's still sitting there chatting up some poor son of a bitch. Dean just hopes they can shut the whole operation down before he even realizes the danger he's in. He knows, realistically, all he can do is wipe out the newest generation and their leadership. He can't stop them from rebuilding or seek out every individual amazon. But he can greatly reduce the number of women going out next cycle. He'd rather not play whack-a-mole every couple years, but that might be what happens. They'll have to wait and see. Dean hears the lock at the door activate and stands up to meet Sam at the door. Sam goes directly to the mini-fridge and puts the six-pack of beer inside without a word.
"Sam, you know the deal-" Dean begins delivering the lecture he's been planning since Sam left, but Sam snaps up to his full posture.
"Enough, Dean. That's enough. You breathing down my neck isn't doing anything but stressing me out."
"You can't just leave, I had no clue where you were or what could be going on." Dean starts pacing again, calming his nerves from all the possible worst case scenarios.
"The note was pretty clear. I said I went to get beer. Here I am with beer. So maybe, just maybe, I went to get beer!"
"While I was in the shower! I got no problem with you leaving, but you left without me."
"You can't control me, Dean! I can control myself. I've got a system that's been working, and it doesn't involve you."
"A system? This the same system you know is gonna piss me off? What's the catch?"
"I can't tell you." Sam says, shaking his head.
"I've had about enough of the 'I can't tell you schtick,' Sam." Dean stops pacing to look Sam dead in the eyes. His eyes look dead, but you wouldn't know it from his animated body language. Sam chuckles
"So have I. And if I could tell you, I would. But I can't and you're just gonna have to believe in me for once in your life. Please, Dean. My system is working. Let it work." Sam looks at Dean with those stupid puppy dog eyes. He knows what Sam is doing, but it still works despite himself.
"You did come back with beer." Dean admits. From the corner of his eye, Dean notices the tracker moving across the screen. "Oh, shit. She's on the move." Sam sits down at the desk, Dean leans over him watching the dot move across the map. Finally, it comes to a stop and Sam writes the address down on hotel stationary. "Tomorrow night, we stake the place out."
The day of the stakeout, Sam is feeling sick. He's sitting in the passenger seat, Dean in the driver seat. They know sometime either tonight or tomorrow they'll have to chase down a car and essentially stage a two-person SWAT raid. Sam hasn't had access to his... um.. medicine for almost ten hours now. He started feeling sick about an hour ago, like the room is spinning. Lucifer is actually making some progress towards the top, and it makes Sam nervous enough that he considers doing this one with his hands bound. He stares out the window, not thinking of anything but supressing Lucifer. Dean keeps trying to start a conversation, but Sam ignores him. He needs to focus on keeping Lucifer down.
"Sam, you haven't said a word all night." Dean announces. "Are you okay?"
"I gotta concentrate. I haven't been able to keep up with my system on the road so I gotta focus." Sam answers through his teeth. The mental energy it took to speak gives Lucifer an opening to move a little bit further up. He tries to push Lucifer down, which is a lot harder than restricting his movement and gets harder the closer he gets.
"Sam, please. You can't hunt in your state. You're gonna get Dean killed." Lucifer implores him. Sam continues his efforts and knocks Lucifer down slightly. Not much, but every little bit counts. Sam realizes Dean has been talking the entire time this was going on, but Sam has absolutely no clue what he said or if it mattered. Still, he tries to listen.
"I'm serious. If that's what you need I will turn this car around right now and we'll go home." Dean leans his head forward to catch Sam's eye as he speaks. Sam shakes his head. He needs to prove himself here. They'd made a promise to the detective. People need to stop dying. So many reasons they can't go home. But Sam also can't let Lucifer break free of his leash. Sam takes the cuffs from the glovebox, tightens them around his wrists, and hands the keys to Dean without a word.
"Okay, that means we're turning around." Dean realizes, bewildered as he takes the keys from Sam. But Sam grabs Dean's wrist when he reaches for the gear shift. He shakes his head. We're doing this first. He pleads with his eyes. "Sammy, this is what Mom was talking about. You take on too much and people get hurt."
"Let me outta here, Sam!" Lucifer yells.
"We get this done. Then we drive home as fast as we can. We don't stop until I get to my room." Sam insists. Dean gnaws on his lip. It's clear he really wants to just turn around, damn the amazons and the detective. But he'd agreed to trusting Sam more, and Dean is a man of his word. Dean opens his mouth to speak, but something catches his eye. Sam follows his gaze and sees a black van pulling up to the house. Two women get out, one with short black hair the other a blonde. They walk up to the front door. Sam strains, trying to focus on what's happening but he just can't. He's gotta hope Dean is paying attention because Lucifer is making progress.
Stop. You're screwing this up for us. Sam thinks, trying to persuade the devil.
"Ah, so there is an 'us,' I'm trying to help us Sam. You're not strong enough to handle both me and them. You gotta let one go. Either let the monsters keep killing people or let me out!" Suddenly, Sam feels the car moving. Dean is in pursuit. That's good.
I'll fight the monsters with my hands cuffed if I have to. I'm not letting you out.
"See, now you're just being stupid." A sudden burst of energy from Sam knocks the devil down a peg. "What was that for?" He asks, insulted.
What do you think? I'd rather screw up a hunt than give you an inch. Do you honestly believe we're on the same side?
"Yeah, I do. All our midnight escapes. Our fight against Amara. Our deep conversations. All the times I've helped you find or fight demons. I hate them just as much as you do."
Moron. Evil. Demented. You, not me.
"You can't even think straight. You can't hunt like this."
Watch me.
Lucifer pulls himself a bit higher. Sam's head starts to hurt and his vision starts to blur. He turns to look at Dean. To Sam's horror, Dean's eyes are black. Sam gasps, his eyes widening in fear.
"No!" He calls out, leaning away from his brother.
"What, Sam?" Dean asks, conniving slipping into his voice. "What's got you so scared, little brother?" His voice dripping mock concern.
"Wha-?" Sam breathes.
"Sam, take the cuffs off. We need blood and we need it now. I'll fly us somewhere, I promise I'll let you come back to Dean. But we gotta go." Lucifer's voice sounds genuinely worried. The car comes to a stop, Sam looks around. They're near a warehouse. Sam shuts his eyes tight, not wanting to see Dean in the state he's in. He needs to call Cas for help.
"CAS! Dean's a demon!" Sam cries out.
"Not a demon, Cas." Dean insists, projecting his voice. Demons lie. He's lying.
"Eyes-!" Sam screams in panic, refusing to open his own.
"Sammy, look at me. I'm not a demon." Dean's voice sounds scared. Why on Earth is he scared? What changed? Sam opens his eyes and sees his brother's green eyes looking into him. Searching for something. Sam takes a deep breath, coming back to reality. He was hallucinating, nothing more. "Say the word and we go home." They're on a hunt. Sam knows they're on a hunt. It's an important hunt.
"We don't have time for a hunt right now. We're both getting sick here, Sam." Lucifer's voice calls out from inside Sam's head.
"I'm okay. I'm good. Sorry. Let's just be fast." Sam gets out of the car, followed by Dean. They retrieve their weapons and grab extra ammo.
"You're going in there with the cuffs?" Dean asks. Sam simply nods in response. "Sam, I don't think that's smart." Dean warns him. But Sam knows things Dean does not, and it's the smartest thing Sam has done all day.
"Trust me, it is." Sam assures his brother.
If you really wanna help me, calm the fuck down while I'm in there. Sam begs. He knows Lucifer wouldn't even consider it, not unless there's something in it for him. But if he really wants to get Sam on his side, he might. Sam and Dean march up to the door of the warehouse. They exchange a quick glance before Dean kicks the door in. He didn't even try to go in silently. They're greeted by a group of women sitting around a table. Dean fires three shots, taking down half the women in the room. Sam aims, fires, and-
"Whoops" Lucifer jokes, sending Sam's arm up and making him miss. Dean looks at him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asks.
"Sorry, I don't know where my head's at. I just-" Sam empties his weapon without hitting a single amazon while Dean mows down anyone he sees. Sam reloads his gun, determined to take at least one monster down today. Instead, he finds his gun aimed at his brother.
"Duck!" Sam screams. If Sam can't control himself, Dean's gonna have to dodge.
"Sam-!" Dean cries. Sam uses his left hand to try to fight his right. Pushing it down, so if Lucifer gets a finger on the trigger Dean wouldn't get hit.
"Dean, get down." Sam commands. He doesn't want his brother in the line of fire if he loses this fight. Screw killing amazons, Sam's focused on not killing his brother. Sam's left hand wins, aiming the gun towards the floor.
"I warned you. You didn't listen to me." Lucifer's voice echoes in Sam's head as he starts making some serious progress. He's close enough that he's able to take control of Sam's hand. Sam is fighting a losing battle here. He's sick, he's hallucinating, he hasn't slept, and he hasn't had access to what he needs. But he can't let Dean get hurt. He just can't. His right hand tries to take aim at his brother again, his left trying to keep it restrained. Eventually, he decides to just rip the gun out of that hand. He looks at his brother, who was watching in either confusion or amazement.
"What's the matter with you?" Dean asks urgently. There's honestly no good way to explain this.
"My hands can't agree." To punctuate the point, Lucifer tries to take the gun back into "his" hand. Sam simply drops it and kicks it towards Dean. Dean picks it up, a concerned expression plastered on his face.
"Look out!" Dean yells as an amazon comes up from behind Sam. With his hands bound, he's unable to do much to fight her off. She brings him to the ground and punches him exactly once before Dean puts a bullet between her eyes. "Listen man, I don't know what's up with you today but go wait in the car. We'll talk about this later, I'm not letting you get killed." Sam, unfortunately, agrees with Dean. This can't happen. Right now, he's useless at best and a liability at worst.
That was real fucking weird, but I can't let it shake me. Dean thinks as he continues moving throughout the warehouse. While Sam was fighting himself, Dean had been busy killing the amazonian leadership. A grand total of seven women lay dead around him. Deeper in the warehouse, he finds the room where the children are kept. A line of wooden beds against the concrete walls that reminds Dean of his time in the boy's home, with dressers at the foot of each bed. No decorations, no toys. Nothing to indicate that children live here, save for the huddle of young girls in one corner. Their eyes all flare red in sync with each other. This should be easy, they're just kids. But Dean hesitates. They're just kids. Kids who spend their whole lives being indoctrinated into a cult. They're not too different from humans, they could make different choices and live different lives. The memory of Emma turning towards him please don't let him hurt me. Should he abandon the hunt with the cult leaders and let the children go, or are they too far gone? That question is answered when the kid they followed here charges towards him, same dark hair as her mother. She aims for his legs, but he spins around so she can't make contact. He aims the gun at her. You could've done that thirty seconds ago. Dean wishes Sam were normal. This would be so much easier if he were here. He'd have something to fight for, a reason to kill these... children. She keeps coming at him, the other girls cheer her on but do not help her. She tries to punch him in the chest but he side-steps, again avoiding the blow instead of returning it. She jumps onto his back, a life-threatening imitation of a piggy back ride, and chomps down on Dean's shoulder. He throws her off of him and again raises his gun. Again, struggling to shoot. Dean suddenly realizes, he's been on the defense this entire time. He hasn't thrown a single punch. What the fuck is wrong with me today?
"Dean!" He hears Sam's voice from behind him. Goddammit I told him to stay in the car. Dean turns around to see him holding the grenade launcher. Sam hands it to Dean. It's definitely easier to throw a grenade into a room than to individually shoot eight children.
"Go to the car." Dean commands, Sam obeys without a word. Dean aims the grenade launcher at the huddle of girls and fires. The explosion is spectacular, a gigantic flame. It threatens the structural integrity of the building. The ceiling starts cracking and the back wall is entirely blown out. Dean books it, rushing out to the Impala as fast as he can. He doesn't look back to check for survivors. Or to see the corpses of children. Far as Dean's concerned, he's done a good enough job. He gets into the car and starts driving, quickly surpassing the speed limit to get Sam home as quickly as possible.
"Sammy, what the fuck happened back there?" He asks, bewildered. He knows Sam is probably expecting anger, but all Dean feels is consternation. It looked to Dean like Sam was too busy fighting his own right hand to actually fire his gun anywhere useful. Like something else was controlling him entirely. And the freak-out over thinking Dean was a demon was... intense to say the least. Not to mention charging into what would inevitably be one of their more difficult hunts with his hands bound. Yesterday, Sam was totally fine. Today, he's a wreck. Still not evil, but a whole mess of weird. Dean is weirdly proud of him though, he'd won the fight against his rogue hand and managed to not die.
"Explain at home. Can't think. Drive fast." is all Sam says in response. Dean pulls out his phone and scrolls through his recent calls until he finds the detective.
"Detective Derek Conners." He answers.
"Hi, this is Agent Tyler. Calling to inform you that the cult went a little psycho and blew up their home when we started closing in on them. I don't know which member killed your brother, but they're most likely dead." Dean speaks in an overly professional tone, even though he's not used to informing law enforcement about the outcome of their hunts he'd made a promise.
"I see. Thank you for the call." Detective Conners replies, sounding worried.
"Of course. And I'm sorry for your loss." Dean hangs up the phone and looks to his brother. Sam is sweating buckets. Dean touches his forehead, he doesn't feel warm.
The drive home passes without conversation. Sam is writhing in pain caused by something Dean can't see. Every so often, Sam starts screaming in Enochian. Part of Dean wishes he understood what Sam was saying, part of him is grateful he can't. It's a miracle they don't get pulled over at the speed Dean's going.
"I'm right here, Sammy. Stone one, remember? We're taking you home, right now. We're going home. What's my name, man?" Sam doesn't even seem to hear Dean. He's shouting complete gibberish with his eyes closed. "Open your eyes, Sammy." The drive passes by both slowly and quickly, both brothers in a complete panic but for very different reasons.
When they get home, Sam runs directly to his room still handcuffed and screaming angrily in Enochian. He walks right past their mom and Adam. Adam straightens up when he hears Sam. Dean raises a brow looking to the youngest Winchester hoping for a translation.
"All I caught is that his family is... well it's hard to translate. I guess the best English word is 'off-limits' but the literal translation is 'not your domain,'" Adam says, complete with air quotes. Weird.
"I see that he's cuffed again. How'd it go out there?" Their mom asks, apprehensive. Sam leaves his room, but instead of joining his family Dean sees him wander towards the hallway with the armory, dungeon, and cursed object vault. Dean figures he'll come back out in a minute and answers the question at hand.
"Most of it went pretty well. We fought, we joked. We didn't sleep with anyone. He slipped out while I went for a shower but he came back totally normal. The entire job felt super boilerplate. Then came time to storm the gates and he literally couldn't do it.. I don't know. Said he'd explain once we got home. I can't decide if I'm angry or impressed, but I'm definitely worried. The drive home was a nightmare. Lots of Enochian screaming. Like he was in pain or something."
"What was he screaming?" Adam asks. Dean figures it's not a bad idea to try and get a translation and repeats a few syllables that came up over and over.
"We are not one." Adam translates. "With more context, I could probably figure out more because that could mean a thousand different things depending on the situation." Adam continues his explanation, counting alternative interpretations on his fingers "It could just as easily mean 'We are not together,' 'we are not the same,' or 'there is no us,' or 'Our purposes differ,' depending on what is said around it."
"Any idea who he could've been referring to?" His mom asks.
"He used the male collective pronoun. You and him?" Adam suggests, pointing at Dean. Maybe? Sam and I have been at odds a lot lately.
"That's not it. But you're asking the right questions." Sam's voice from the hallway. He walks into the foyer where the rest of his family waits. He seems normal. Like none of that happened. He's not muttering in the angel tongue, he's not sweating, though he's clearly exhausted.
"It wasn't like the convent." Sam begins. "My head just got kinda fuzzy, and once we got in there everything started moving so fast. Keeping it down requires a lot of effort and I couldn't focus on that and the hunt. So I slipped up. You were right, Dean. I shouldn't be going on the road. I really want to, I miss it. But I gotta stay close to home so I can actually use my system."
"Your system?" His mom asks. Sam holds his hands up, prompting Dean to unlock them. As he does so, Sam explains.
"The stuff I've been doing to stay my normal self. It makes it so I don't need to dedicate every bit of my energy and focus to staying in control. With it, I can afford to actually do stuff and think coherently. I couldn't keep up with it on the road so I went a little haywire. I had to let go of the wheel, almost shot Dean." He explains, sounding disappointed in himself. He shouldn't be, it's clear whatever is happening to him is outside of his control. Another example of the universe hating the Winchesters and Sam in particular. And he's using every ounce of his strength trying to keep it in check. Far as Dean can tell, Sam had been doing a really good job. It was just his stubborn desire to prove he could hunt. Something he wouldn't have felt if Dean had laid off a bit. Sam holds a hand out for the keys to the cuffs.
"I think you're right too. I gotta trust you more." Dean admits, placing the keys in Sam's hand without reservation. Sam looks at him confused, closing his hand around the keys. "Dude, what I saw was you fighting a war with yourself and winning. If that's what happens when you don't have your system, then it proves your system is working. I promise you, we're gonna figure this out and get whatever's clinging to you off." Dean looks Sam in the eyes. He wants Sam to know that he means it. He trusts his brother more than he ever has before. But Sam just shakes his head.
"No, Dean. We won't. I've taken on a burden that should never be lifted." Dean doesn't know how to take this. He definitely notices that Sam said "should" instead of "could." Like fixing him is possible, but a really bad idea. Is Sam supposed to just lie down and accept whatever is happening to him? Whatever it was that Cas couldn't see?
"What's that supposed to mean, Sam?" Dean asks quietly.
"It's like.. inside of me there's a dam. If I wanted to, I could demolish the dam. I'd instantly be my normal self again, I could hunt. I could sleep. There would be no more damage to my soul. But if I did, there would be a biblical flood. I'm talking world-ending behavior here. Screw crushing skulls, I mean hellfire and brimstone. Croatoan, demonic takeovers, neighbor killing neighbor." Sam sighs, licking his lips before continuing, his voice quiet. "Brother killing brother." He says with a loaded expression. Dean understands what Sam is saying, that if this "dam" breaks Dean might have to kill him. But Dean elects to ignore that idiotic idea and lets Sam continue speaking. "So, instead of demolishing it, I'm learning to become a stronger dam." Sam takes a deep breath. "There is no solving this problem. Only coping with it. When I say I've got things under control, that's not me denying there's something wrong. I'm just saying I'm smart enough to maneuver around it."
There's a tense silence in the room. This is the most frank discussion they've had about the situation to date.
"Is there anything you need from us?" Their mom speaks up. "Anything we can do?"
"I'll tell you what I told Dean. Don't judge me too harshly. I've got three sets of really smart eyes on me. One of you will put the puzzle together and I just... Please try to understand my reasons when that time comes. I'm trying to do right by the world, even if that means doing wrong by myself. None of us have a choice in any of this and I'm doing the best I can." Dean doesn't like hearing that any more the second time. It sounds really foreboding and really makes it sound like Sam has gone dark side.
"Yeah, well. You're still off house arrest. If you wanna go out, you can." Dean says, trying to change the subject. Sam smiles.
"I'm gonna head to the bakery. Blueberry pie and-" He points at Adam, wanting his order.
"I'll just come with you." Adam rises from his seat to follow Sam. Once they're out the door, his mom turns to Dean.
"Level with me, what happened?" She asks.
"He was hallucinating and fighting his own right hand. He decided it was a good idea to storm the amazon hideout handcuffed. Spent the entire drive home in pain and freaking out and I got no idea why. Speaking Enochian, which is never a good sign with him. Whatever his system is, he needs to keep it up or people are gonna get hurt." Dean's phone buzzes in his pocket, a text from Crowley. He opens it, it's a picture of a dead teenage girl. Fifteen if Dean had to guess, a green star pimple patch on her forehead wearing jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt. The skin on her neck is burned black. Dean doesn't know who this is or why Crowley is sending him a picture of her corpse, but he figures he's about to find out when the King of Hell calls him.
Notes:
That one was a doozy to write, took me almost a month omg. (I did go on a Walking Dead side quest there, my bad but that one was fun to write) Hope you liked it! Always open to notes and suggestions, and kudos are always appreciated but not required.
Chapter 11
Summary:
Dean finds out just what Sam's "system" entails. Minimizing it as much as possible, he's very upset about it.
Adam proves his mettle to the family.
Sam is... let's just say "unwell" and leave it at that.
Notes:
Sorry this one took so long, but I come with the mother of all AO3 author excuses.
My brain broke. Don't want to get too detailed, but it was bad, involved the grippy socks, and nearly killed me. My meds were switched out for some heavy-duty stuff that took a long time to adjust to, I was sleep deprived, and I had to try out what Sam's season 7 shrink calls a "surgical solution." Turns out, ECT hurts a lot less when it's being done properly by a doctor and not a demon trying to kill you, but it still hurts quite a bit. It causes some cognitive problems and memory loss, and the brain fog made me kinda stupid for a bit there. It took me a hot minute to get back to a point where I could write coherently. The next few chapters will likely take a bit longer, as right now I only get to have a funcitioning brain one day a week.
I tried to start writing again the day I got out of the hospital, but then I wrote the sentence "Blood is thicker than water, but mirrors are thicker than blood." and decided to put it on the shelf until my brain worked again. Trust me, that draft of this chapter was not fit for human consumption.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam sits in the driver's seat outside the bakery with Adam in the passenger seat. Adam is digging into a vanilla cupcake, Sam a chocolate one. Sam glances in the backseat at the muffin with sugar crumbled on top for his mom and the entire blueberry pie for his big brother, then looks at the line of frosting on Adam's cheek. It's weird being the older brother behind the wheel, but Sam enjoys it. Getting to teach his little brother the ropes has been the only high point in a stretch of insane lows. Being around Adam makes Sam feel normal; instead of breaking into someone's office to find out if they're a monster he's sitting here getting baked goods. He helps Adam study. He watches movies with Adam. Teaches him life lessons (ones that he learned from Dean). Sam knows Adam looks up to him, and that pushes Sam to being a better person. He wonders if Dean feels the same way about him. Sam is proud of how well Adam's adjusting, he took to lorebooks like a duck to water. He's smart and thinks of things Sam and Dean never considered, like the possibility of angelic exorcisms. Even with Lucifer in his head, Sam feels remarkably human sitting next to the nineteen year old who deserves a better life. Sam looks to the kid, who is looking down clearly mulling something over in his head.
"Sam?" Adam starts. Sam nods, encouraging Adam to continue. "You know I'm behind you, 100% of the way right?" Sam is confused, why's he bringing this up now?
"Yeah. And we're behind you." Sam promises, but Adam shakes his head.
"I don't mean you and Dean. I mean I'm behind you. You're my brother. Sometimes I wish you weren't, my life would've been a lot more functional. But we don't get a choice in that. I know you've done something colossally stupid that might get us killed. I don't know what it is, but I know you had your reasons, and I trust you. I just want you to know, I've got your back." Sam wonders how much Adam has put together, he figures this is a good enough time to try to point him in the right direction.
"Yeah, I'm sorry you're our family too sometimes. Winchesters have a way of getting pulled into cosmic messes, and this is one you've gotta help us with. I thought Dean would've spotted it immediately, but uh.. it turns out I've been doing too good a job keeping it together for him to notice."
"I've noticed-" Adam cuts himself off like he isn't sure what to say next. Sam's eyes widen, Adam's noticed something. Doesn't matter what, that's good news. "I don't know. I've seen some stuff that just feels off." Sam feels a rush of energy at this. He needs to keep this conversation going.
"Like what?" He asks, getting no immediate response. "What have you noticed?"
"Well, the sigil thing was a little weird. You said it did nothing, that you were just teaching. But you wanted that one specifically. And once it was done, you seemed a lot calmer. So it must've done something. And did you call Dean a primate or was that part of the flashback?"
"I didn't call him a primate, but it wasn't part of the flashback." Sam can actually see the gears turning in Adam's head. This is good. Sam could explode from his excitement.
"You've been weirdly preoccupied with angel stuff and the cage. At first I thought it was because I just got back but then Cas said there was something inside of you and I started wondering. But then he said he'd be able to see a being if it was inside of you, so I don't really know what to make of it. The telekinesis stuff, that's new, right?"
"It's resurfacing after a long dormancy. Back when Hell was preparing me to be-" His mouth shuts. Again. Goddammit! Adam is so close, he can't stop now. Sam slams his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "Keep thinking on it, you're getting close." Sam's phone rings, it's his mom. Sam decides to let it go to voicemail, this conversation is too important.
"Are you changing at all? Inside? Maybe.. becoming something other than human?" Nope.
"Getting colder. Think about what the-" sigil did.
"I think we've had enough of that." Lucifer interupts. Sam grunts in frustration and anger. He squeezes the bridge of his nose. Not today, please not now.
"Gag order?" Adam asks. Sam nods his head with his eyes closed, hand still to his face. "We should see what your mom wanted."
Sam pulls out his phone and plays the voicemail on speaker. "Sammy, please come home. We need to talk about some things and I-" The scream of a raging Dean can be heard in the background. "Just get here as fast as you can." Oh shit.
"Remember, I'm on your side." Adam promises. Sam immediately puts the car in drive and tries to get home as fast as possible.
"I think you need to have a little chat with the wife!" Crowley screams into the phone. Dean is still confused about the picture.
"Cas isn't-" Dean starts to explain, but Crowley cuts him off.
"Not that wife, you moronic donkey. Sam! He's eating my army!" No way. Impossible. "I'd wager that's where our missing friend went too. Is this why Sam's been locked up? To keep him from tearing into the demonic populace like the junkie he is!?"
"That's insane, what the hell are you talking about? And what am I looking at here?"
"A dead vessel. Her partner saw your fiend of a brother tear into her neck like a common vampire!"
"A demon says so? Oh, well then it must be true." Dean deadpans sarcastically.
"Dean, there are trillions of demons in Hell and on Earth. All with different life stories, beliefs, loyalties, and favorite foods. Not a single one of them would lie about this. My political campaign is built on safety from the Winchesters, and now that abomination is screwing it all up for me! You take care of this or I will."
"You know better than to threaten him in front of me, Crowley. And he knows better than to touch the stuff again."
"Well clearly he doesn't because I'm standing here in fucking Tulsa looking at an exsanguinated vessel."
"Tulsa?" Dean asks. They were there just yesterday. Sam did slip away during that hunt. And the drive home? Was he... in withdrawal? "I'll look into it. And if it's true, I will handle it myself. Are we clear?"
"Crystal. It's not moose hunting season, I get it." Dean hangs up the phone. He looks at his mom, she seems worried. Dean's hands shake from either anger or anxiety.
"What was that about?" His mom asks. Dean nearly crushes the phone in his hand. He slams it on the table before taking a deep breath. Can't jump the gun here.
"According to Crowley, Sam's been drinking demon blood again." Dean keeps his voice as measured and level as possible. He doesn't want to betray the fact that he actually believes the demon. "I'm gonna check his room. And if I find any, there's gonna be a problem." Dean marches over to Sam's room. He picks the lock easily and quickly, wondering why Sam even bothered to lock it in the first place. Opening the door, he has to take a moment to adjust to the state of the room. The floors can't be safely traversed, books and papers strewn about. The kinds of things Sam would usually pin to the walls or leave on flat surfaces having migrated there to make room for sigils. Every inch of the walls and most of the dresser and desk, the same sigil repeated over and over. It looks vaguely familiar, but Dean can't quite place it. Sam's bed is pulled away from the wall for some reason, no clue when he did that. "Mom!" He calls out. "C'mere." She runs over to him, stopping in the doorway as Dean enters the room.
"Woah." She walks over to the desk, carefully stepping over Sam's Beautiful Minds display towards the dresser. She examines the sigil. "It's definitely Enochian. Should we call Cas?"
"Search the place first." Dean moves some books out of the way to kneel beside Sam's bed. It seems as good a place as any to check. Underneath the papers, he sees the carpet around his bed has been burned. Dean doesn't know what to make of any of this. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mom has picked up Sam's journal. "Lemme know if you find anything in there."
"It's like an experiment log." She brings it over to Dean. He leans a bit in her direction to get a better look. She wasn't lying, it's basically a spreadsheet.
L: 8
S: 7
Morning Intake: 1.5 Bottles
L: 2
S: 10
L: 3
S: 10
Midday Intake: None
L: 7
S: 8
Supplement approx. .5 Bottle 5:00PM
L: 6
S:9
Night Intake: 159 sec. DFD
L:1
S:10
HF 11:02 PM-9:47 AM
It just goes on and on like that, seems like three times a day Sam has been taking notes on his intake and whatever those numbers and letters mean. While Dean's got no clue about that, he has a sinking feeling about the word "intake."
"Keep reading, see if anything useful pops up." Dean feels around underneath Sam's bed, feeling for literally anything that could contain demon blood. He pulls out a glass bottle, the liquid inside is clear with a tint of yellow. Holy oil. Dean assumes. He keeps feeling around until his hands find two more glass bottles. One is full of a sticky slippery crimson substance, the sight of which shatters Dean's hope. The other is empty, but the remnants of the blood it once contained still stains the inside. Dean could crush the bottle in his bare hands right now. The red inside of them takes over his entire field of vision. He pops the top of the full one, hoping against hope that Sam needed goat blood for a spell or something. He sniffs it and scent of sulfur confirms Crowley's suspicions. Dean rises, his lips tight, and holds the bottles up without of a word. He doesn't trust himself to speak with the rage coursing through him, sending his blood pressure sky high. His hands shake with the need to punch someone.
"Oh no..." His mom whispers, her face falling. She seems disappointed, but Dean has skipped that entirely and gone straight to anger. "I'm calling him." She states, pulling out her phone.
"Tell him to get his ass back here right now. If I gotta go out looking for him, it won't be pretty!" Dean yells. His mom just looks at him, crestfallen before dialing Sam up.
Dean charges out of the room. All that talk of having things under control, and here Sam is drinking fucking demon blood! Dean is disgusted with his brother. He wonders why Dean doesn't trust him, well this is why! Dean lets out a scream, though it's more of a roar. He needs to break something. He storms into the kitchen and smashes the empty bottle against the ground, feeling satisfied by the crash it makes. The tile splattered with glass, iron, and sulfur. He goes back to the foyer and starts pacing the floor, trying and failing to calm himself down. Would Sam deny it if he's confronted? He'd better not. Dean wonders what else Sam might be hiding. Every time he's done this shit in the past it's been part of Hell's plan. That's what's happening, isn't it? Hell has somehow convinced him to join their ranks and become a demon. The blood does corrode his soul, right? And Sam was stupid enough to fall for it again. He's either willfully naive, or a monster. Either way, someone's gotta knock some sense into the man. Dean looks at the full bottle still in his hand, the poison rolling around inside to adjust to the change in angle. He tucks it under the table, not wanting to touch it or look at it a single second more. He keeps pacing the floor until he notices his mom approaching him.
"Straight to voicemail. Remember, we promised we'd listen to him when the time came." She speaks gently, like she's a hostage negotiator trying to convince Dean to drop his gun.
"Yeah, that was before I knew what he was doing!" Dean screams, startling her. He rubs his face, trying to calm himself down. He doesn't want to scare her but he's pissed off and Sam's gonna know it. He goes back to pacing, and he tries to stop his hands from shaking. "He's not dumb, he fucking knows better than this. On every level, he's aware of the danger here but he completely ignored all common sense!" He rants. His mom just lets him. "Do you know what this stuff does to him? Did his journal mention how close he came to becoming a demon?! There is no justification for this. None. I don't care what's at stake, it's not worth doing this to himself. To us!" Dean grabs the back of a chair and leans down, stretching his back and gearing up for a fight. He shakes his head as he comes out of the stretch "I thought we were past this, but Dad was right. With his last breath, he gave me two choices about Sam. You wanna know what they were?!" He yells. His mom looks scared. Not startled, not worried, scared. "Well, do you?!"
"Oh my God, John. What did you do to my kids?!" She exclaims, looking up at the sky. A sudden burst of bitterness, aimed in a direction Dean didn't expect. She rubs her forehead, clearly they're overdue for a conversation about that very question but that's gonna have to wait.
"Save him or kill him, Mom. That's what he said. I thought we'd taken the save him option, but Sam's gone off and decided to become a monster!"
"Dean, I think you should calm down-" Dean resumes his pacing.
"Don't tell me to calm down! You weren't here for this bullshit. I'm the one who stood outside the door listening to him scream. And he wants to put us all through that again?! He's being stupid and irresponsible. So, no, I'm not gonna calm down. This isn't a calm situation!"
"Okay, fine. Don't be calm. Be rational. You say he knows better than to use this stuff, right? That means he's not using it for no reason."
"The reason doesn't matter. He always thinks he has a good reason. And he's always wrong." Dean's volume is calming down, the pacing has been helping get some of his angry energy out. "Mom, you didn't see it. He's an addict. Once an addict, always an addict. That's why he does this. He'll try to say it's for the greater good, that the powers it gives him help people. But he's just a junkie."
"We can either calmly ask him about it together, or you can go to your room while I handle it." Dean plasters on a grin for her benefit.
"I'm calm." He insists. She raises a brow at him.
"Really?" She asks doubtfully.
"As calm as I can be." Dean takes the seat closest to the bottle still hidden underneath the table.
Sam doesn't know what to expect when he walks through the front door, but it sure as shit wasn't Dean sitting at the table with a giant unnerving grin on his face. Sam slowly descends the stairs, carrying the pie and muffin he'd bought. He's unsure of what happened, but it's clear Dean is restraining himself. He sets the treats on the table and looks to his mom. She gnawing on her cheek.
"Hiya, Sammy." Dean says, the grin still not reaching his eyes. "Anything you wanna share with the class?" He's found something. Thank God.
"Dude, so much. But I can't so why don't you just tell me what you're talking about?" Sam answers honestly.
"I just got off the phone with Crowley. He told me you were drinking demon blood again." Oh shit.
"Get him off our backs. Lie, if you have to." He hears Lucifer say.
"That's insane, demons lie." Sam shifts his feet, uncomfortable with the fact that out of all the red flags Sam has been waving, this is the one Dean caught.
"See that's what I said." Dean says, rising from his seat and pacing the floor. "But he sounded ready to murder you and I couldn't let that happen so I told him I'd search your room." Okay, so he saw literally everything. The holy fire, the sigils, every tome about possession we own. That must've led him somewhere other than 'drinking demon blood for the hell of it' Dean returns to the table and pulls out a full bottle of Sam's vice turned liferaft. He slams it on the table, causing Sam to flinch. He then marches right up to Sam, trying to look him in the eye. But Dean's demeanor is far too intense for Sam and he averts his gaze, understanding how totally screwed he is right now.
"Hold on. You said you'd hear me out." Sam begs, slowly backing away from his brother. Dean is the very picture of barely contained anger, his hands balled into fists and his feet loudly stomping into the floor with each step.
"Talk. Now." Dean commands, stopping about three feet away from Sam. Sam sighs, he knows there's no way he's getting through to Dean on this.
"I don't have a choice right now. It's part of my system. It's the only reason I've been in control." Sam speaks quickly and desperately. He needs Dean on his side right now, more than anything else he needs his big brother to hear him. "If I stop, humanity gets wiped out."
"This the part of your system you couldn't keep up with on the road? Because you had to hide it from me?" Dean asks, his anger flaring up again. "The drive home, that was withdrawal. Pure and simple. All this stress, everything this family has been going through these past couple months, all because you wanted to get high!" Dean yells. Okay, so he's not actually listening.
"He's not gonna listen to us, Sam." Lucifer adds, incorrectly assuming his input is at all wanted in this conversation.
"That's not what's happening. This time, it's not the illness, it's the cure. The only way I've been normal. Please, tell me you understand. I need you to hear me now more than ever. I have to keep drinking it." Sam is practically begging now, he's desperate for Dean to heed his warning. The fate of billions depends on it. Dean closes the distance between them, standing mere inches away from him. He lowers his volume, speaking with quiet intensity. A blue fire, so hot it burns a cool tone.
"You know what we have to do now, right?" Sam's eyes widen with fear, because he does know. Dean wants to lock him in a room and detox him completely. That can't happen. Dean would undo all of his work and set Lucifer free. Once again, their love for each other dooms the planet.
"Dean, no. I'm telling you, there's something worse at play here. We can't do this now. Or ever. I'm sorry, but we need it. And I need my brother by my side for this." Dean rolls his eyes, not a good sign. "I know you hate it, I hate it too but-"
"Do you?!" Dean cuts him off. "Because you seem perfectly happy to be using again."
"Dean, I don't think that stuff" Adam says with a nod towards the bottle still on the table. "is the root cause of whatever's been going on."
"Shut the fuck up, Adam. You've got no clue what you're talking about. 'That stuff' is demon blood. Sam is an evil junkie freak." Sam knows Dean is lashing out in anger, that he doesn't mean what he's saying. But it still hurts. Sam knows Dean is trying to hurt him as much as possible with his words. Sam pushes past Dean and reaches for the bottle, prepared to drink right in front of God and everyone if it gives him more time before withdrawals kick in.
"Don't talk to him like that. He's right." His mom picks up the bottle before Sam can get to it, eyeing him suspiciously. "The demon blood is a symptom, not the disease. Use your fucking head. Ask questions. Try to work out what Cas couldn't see. Hell, look at the state of my bedroom! I'm not arguing that it's a good choice, I'm telling you I don't have a choice. And neither do you!"
"We always have a choice." Dean insists.
"It's me drinking demon blood or the human race gets caught in the crossfire of the biggest celestial falling out of all time!" Sam screams out before Lucifer can even react. If Dean could understand what's at stake, maybe he'd be more willing to listen to reason. But Dean is currently in a rage and he tends to be pretty unreachable when he's like this, so it's Adam who latches onto it instead.
"Celestial falling out?" He repeats. "Like... God and the angels? Or Michael and Lucifer?" Sam points at Adam emphatically, that's exactly what he means.
"Everybody calm down. Let's discuss this like adults." Their mom says with a hand on Dean's shoulder. But Dean simply shakes his head.
"We can handle an apocalypse, but we can't have you hooked on this shit for one. We're doing this, and we're doing it now." Dean grabs Sam by the collar and starts dragging him down the hall.
"Dean!" Their mom calls out. Sam pushes Dean off of him.
"Enough! I know you think you know best, but you don't! You don't know everything!" Sam is screaming now too.
"Let me out and I'll get us out of this." Lucifer cuts in.
"Where do we go from here?" His mom asks. Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean gets the first word out.
"We bring him to the dungeon," Anywhere but there. "tie him down, and let him rot until it's out of his system. Then we have a conversation with Cas about just how much damage Sam has done to himself."
"If we go cold turkey, I won't be able to have a conversation with anyone." Sam insists, hoping Dean can read between the lines for once in his goddamn life. Sam doesn't get why Dean doesn't understand. He knew immediately something was off while he was soulless, but now it's like he doesn't even know him. Dean grabs him again, but Sam is just bigger and pushes Dean off again. Dean throws a punch, breaking Sam's nose. Sam would be lying if he said it didn't hurt, but he returns to his full posture despite the blood pouring down his chin. "Dean-" Another punch to the face that Sam tanks. At this point, both Mom and Adam intervene. Mom tries to pull Dean away from Sam but he frees his arm from her grip. Adam places himself in between Sam and Dean, but Sam gently pushes him aside. He doesn't want Adam getting himself hurt, and if he tries to stop Dean that's absolutely what will happen. Dean resorts to dragging Sam by the hair, towards the dungeon. Not there, he can't see what's down there. Sam struggles to free himself, but Dean's grip is firm. Sam throws a punch to Dean's throat, causing Dean to let go. Dean turns towards Mary and Adam.
"There's a cot in the dungeon, unfold it and get the restraints ready while we settle this." He demands. They both hesitate, the understanding that there will be more combat as soon as they leave the room lingers in the air.
"Dean, I really don't think-" Their mom starts.
"Don't think, just do. I know what I'm talking about. Go!" He screams. Sam is frustrated, Dean has absolutely no idea what he's doing here. Sam looks at her, begging her with his eyes to not obey. Unfortunately, she does. Adam, on the other hand...
"No." He says defiantly.
"What'd you just say to me?" Dean asks, turning his anger towards the youngest brother.
"I said no." Adam crosses his arms, making his intentions known. "If Sam says he's got a good reason, then he's got a good reason."
"He said he had a good reason last time too and he lied." Sam shakes his head at that. It wasn't a lie, he was just wrong. "Go. Help Mary."
"I don't think the demon blood is the source of all evil here." Adam admits, Sam nods. He needs Dean to listen to reason.
"Kid, your opinion on this counts for jack shit. I said go, so go. I'm not gonna tell you again." Adam looks to Sam, clearly willing to follow his lead. Sam knows he doesn't want Adam to throw himself between them again, so he nods towards the hallway where their mom went. Adam starts off in that direction, but their mom comes running towards them.
"Uh.. Dean... there's something down there I think you should see." She rushes out the words. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!
"We gotta fly the coop. Let me out, Sammy." Lucifer insists. Sam doesn't know where to turn. He's currently experiencing approximately seven different versions of his worst nightmare simultaneously. He doesn't have the time to consider Lucifer's offer though, Dean runs towards the dungeon. Sam charges after, intent on stopping him.
"Dean, wait!" He calls out. "Don't go down there!" Just outside the door, Sam tackles his brother to the ground. Dean wraps his legs around Sam and uses his own weight against him to flip them over before climbing off and continuing down the stairs towards the dungeon. Part of Sam wants to run away before Dean can get on his case about what's down there.
"Good instinct, Sam. I have wings, let's go." Lucifer tries to hurry Sam, but Sam ignores him when Adam comes up behind him.
"Sam, what's down there?" He asks.
"It's not good, bud." Sam whispers. "I'd be angry at me too, even with the world at stake. Adam, listen to me, if he gets me on that bed, you need to make him see the bigger picture. Tell him everything you've seen. Follow your instincts, anything that feels off. The second I'm restrained, I become a ticking time bomb. Make Dean see the truth before I go off."
"GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME!" Sam's late father's voice roars out from the dungeon. Wait, no, that's Dean.
"Yes sir." He mumbles automatically. He walks into the dungeon. Dean stands a foot away from the diner waitress, dried blood staining her neck.
"You've been keeping a goddamn blood slave?!" Dean screams. "You're a fucking monster, Sam. I don't even know who you are."
"No, you don't Dean. If you think I'd do this willingly, you have no fucking clue who I am." Sam spits back. His mom is moving the cot from the Shelly's cell towards the center of the room. Dean answers to Sam talking back with another punch to the face, Sam is out cold before he hits the floor.
With Sam no longer trying to fight Dean on this, he digs out some restraints and begins attaching them to the bed in the center of the room. Dean doesn't want to lock Sam in an actual cell, he wants to be able to see him from outside the door if shit hits the fan.
"Are the restraints really necessary? It feels wrong to tie him down." Dean's mom protests.
"Especially with everything he's been through." Adam adds. "It's just cruel. I know he's been fine with the cuffs, but to him being tied to a bed won't feel any different than being chained up on the rack."
That's enough to give Dean pause. Sam doesn't handle being restrained very well. Lord knows Dean doesn't either. Even with a clear head, being tied down on anything would send Dean's head spinning. Both of them got a lot quicker and more reckless when it came to freeing themselves from various forms of bindings after their respective tours of Hell. He knows the withdrawals alone will be torture enough for Sam, does Dean really need to add to it? Then the memory of Sam flying across Bobby's panic room mid-seizure flashes into Dean's mind. He'd hesitated then, too. Watching Sam's own tainted blood dribble down his face as the belt Dean held in his mouth cut into his lip. And Sam is about to go through all of that again. What I wouldn't give to have Bobby here for this...Dean shakes his head, trying to hold on to his anger. Sam did this to himself.
"He should've thought of that. He knows the drill by now." Dean pauses, they don't know why it matters. "It's for his own safety. First time we did this, he had a seizure that flung him into the walls. If being tied down upsets him, fine. It'll keep him from doing this again."
"I still think we should've let him explain himself." His mom comments, helping Dean lug the largest Winchester to the bed.
"He can explain himself once it's all out of his system." Dean retorts. They're doing this. Adam hangs back, deep in thought and clearly unwilling to assist. "Adam, it's for his own good. You don't know what that stuff does to him. I promise you, nothing is worth this." Dean tries to reassure him.
"I'm just... thinking. Trying to work out what could be going on." He explains. Dean uses the chains in the dungeon, meant to contain demons, to chain Sam's arms at his side. He uses plain Jane psych ward straps to keep his body down on the bed.
"What's going on is every time he's done this before, it's because Hell wants him to. He knows that and he still went back to it, and lied to us about it for who knows how long."
"What about her?" His mom asks with a nod towards the diner waitress demon that Sam has been keeping. It's an obvious attempt at changing the topic, but it's a question worth asking. Dean considers it. He could kill her, it wouldn't be crazy. But he feels he owes Crowley a debt for telling him about Sam, and freeing her could be a sign of good faith that saves Sam from the demon's wrath. He walks over to her and kneels down, not wanting to unchain her until he knew she wouldn't make him regret it.
"Tell Crowley I said thanks for the tip, that we are handling this as a family matter. Tell him to keep his demons out of Kansas." Dean unchains her, she stands up shakily.
"It's not Crowley's demons you need to worry about." She breathes, exhausted. "It's his." She says, pointing at Sam unconcious on the bed. She then vacates her vessel, leaving Dean with a dead body to deal with. What the hell could that possibly mean? Did Sam start a demonic cult?
"We can deal with the body later. Let's go." Dean says, heading towards the door.
"We're just gonna leave him here?" His mom asks.
"Yup. This is all the usual procedure. He's gonna scream and beg for help. Don't listen to him. No matter how badly you want to go in there and try to.. to take the pain away. Don't go in there." He looks both Mary and Adam in the eye, they're the unpredictable variables here. They need to understand that Sam needs to go through what he's about to go through. The two of them exchange a worried look, Dean knows they don't believe this is truly what's best for Sam. "I won't lie to you, it's not gonna be fun for any of us. Hearing him call my name and plead for me to help him... one of the worst experiences of my life. But if you love him, you'll let this happen. This really is what's best for him." With a longing look towards Sam, the trio slowly walks out the door. Dean opens the viewing window at the top and closes it. Just like Bobby's panic room. He can't help but think.
Sam startles awake, and tugs at the chains around his wrists. They're the same ones he'd been using on Shelly. He turns his head towards her cell, and sees her empty vessel crumpled on the floor. Sam looks down at his body, leather straps keep him bound to the bed. His nose no longer feels broken, Sam has to assume he has Lucifer to thank for that. He can feel Lucifer's anger as his own, the line between their emotions blurring even further.
"You happy now, Sam?" Lucifer asks accusatorily. "You got us caught."
At least these chains will keep Lucifer from flying away with me. Sam thinks.
"That should be the least of your worries. We're trapped. I can't get us out of this."
How long was I out?
"About six hours. We've got maybe two more before we start feeling sick. So, let's talk escape plans. When I take over-"
You're not taking over.
"Sam, we're past that. Dean is trying to kill you. I'm trying to keep us alive."
You're not taking over. I don't care if I do die in here, no matter what I'm the one in control. I'll die as myself.
"Dean, I'm serious we can't do this right now!" Sam calls out. "If I don't get it, it's hellfire and brimstone for the planet!" Sam calls out through the door. He's not sure if Dean is there or not, but he has to hope someone is. Dean wouldn't leave him alone, right?
"You said the same thing last time!" Dean's voice bellows from behind the door.
"This isn't last time! I'm begging you to see that, Dean. Please."
"We can talk about this once you're clean." Dean's voice breaks on the word 'clean', something Sam doesn't see very often.
"I will never be clean! I can't be!" Sam yells, his voice a few octaves deeper than normal. He's practically growling. "I really thought you'd figure it out. I thought you'd see." Sam feels tears pricking his eyes, he blinks them back. Crying won't do anyone any good. There is not a single person on the planet who knows Sam better than Dean. And Dean thinks Sam is a blood-sucking freak. Maybe he's right, Sam has been defiling himself a lot lately. He feels a swell of motivation and ambition coming from Lucifer.
"I know you better than he does. You think you're being noble, and cards on the table you are. Keeping me locked down for so long, I doubt Dean could do that with Michael. I know that you and Dean are close... a little too close by most definitions. But being brothers is not the end-all-be-all. My brothers and I used to be joined at the hip. Much like you and Dean. When I fell, I thought I could count on them to have my back. I thought they'd fall with me rather than leave me all alone. I thought Michael especially would never betray me. A few eons later and here I am in a basement with Sam Winchester. Dean's your blood, but I'm your reflection. The only thing we can count on is each other." Sam doesn't know how to process Lucifer's story. He knows Lucifer is trying to manipulate him, he's not stupid. But... well... he's the vessel for a reason. "Exactly, Sam. The day I was created, you were too. We complete each other. I tried to be your friend. I tried to be your enemy. But I've never tried to be your brother."
Sam feels Lucifer dive into his mind, dragging Sam with him. A shock of panic surges through him. What could the devil possibly be looking for? Finally, Lucifer seems to find it. He pulls Sam into a memory. Taking in his surroundings, Sam immediately recognizes the cage. They're watching cage-Lucifer (in Sam's form) carefully peel back individual layers of skin from cage-Sam's body. As he does so, Sam feels it as though it's happening to him right this very second. Sam gets a good look at his every angle, with so many versions of him occupying this space. Adam/Michael (no telling which was in charge) sits in the fetal position, rocking back and forth in the corner. This memory must be fairly deep into Sam's stay. In the beginning, Michael was all too willing to join in the festivities. Fear and anxiety threaten to take over. Sam feels his breathing hitch and he looks down at his stomach to double-check that the skin is still there. This is a memory he thought he'd buried long ago. Sam looks at the current Lucifer, a perplexed expression on his face.
"What are we doing here?" Sam asks. Lucifer is about to answer when he's cut off by cage-Sam half screaming, half crying. It's a strained and choked sound that causes Sam to flinch. I sound so weak.
"Yeah, if only you actually were weak. My life would've been a lot easier. Sadly, you've got my willpower and stubborn attitude." Lucifer holds up a hand, a blue light streams out and the memory pauses. "I'm trying to fix some of the damage I've done. Brothers fight all the time, right? But they usually make up. We never made up for this. Consider it my apology." Suddenly, the image of the cage fills with a blue light, and a feeling of calm washes over Sam. He's not sure what Lucifer just did, but he's incredibly curious. "Let's see if it worked." The light in Lucifer's hand goes out and the memory replays. This time, however, Sam doesn't feel the knife cutting into him in real time. The memory no longer elicits the same panicked response it did when they first got there. Sam looks down at his cage-self, the memory is still happening. He will likely never be able to forget it. But the pain remembering it usually causes is no longer an issue, and Sam feels oddly detached from the whole thing. It's like watching a movie rather than reliving trauma. Sam doesn't know what to say except-
"Thank you." He looks at Lucifer with genuine gratitude. Lucifer smiles triumphantly.
"We got a lot more of these to go. We better hurry before the withdrawals kick in."
Dean sits with his back against the dungeon door, knowing if he moves either his mom or Adam will want to go in there. He takes a sip of his beer, choosing to focus on the yeasty taste over the current situation. He's lost count of how many he's had, trying to tune out Sam's screams. I don't know how many times I can do this. He thinks. I thought all this was behind us. His mom is pacing the hallway anxiously and Adam sits across from him.
"You say he's an addict, that the stuff is killing him." Adam says for the third time. Dean nods, lacking the energy to repeat himself again. "What's the difference between you and him?" This gets Dean's attention.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks, sitting up straighter.
"You've had seven beers and four whiskeys. Do we gotta lock you in a cell and dry you out?" There's a charged silence, which allows Sam's agony to take center stage.
"Dad, please! I had no choice!" He screams. "Please... it hurts!"
"Alright, we're done." Mom stops pacing and turns to face Dean. "He's suffering in there. Alone. We'll find another solution, but we're letting him out." She announces. Dean shakes his head.
"This is the only way to get it out of his system. We've done this before." Dean mumbles, his voice detached and sounding foreign.
"Dean, he's in a lot of pain-" She's trying to bargain, but Dean refuses to budge.
"You're right, he is. But he did it to himself." He says flatly, not moving away from the door.
"Lou, help!" Sam screams.
"Who's Lou?" Adam asks. Dean shrugs.
"No clue." Dean answers.
"I can't stand to hear him screaming like that." His mom says, rubbing her face.
"Then leave. If you can't handle the price of Dad's life, you can leave." Dean's voice is dripping with venom.
"What?" She asks, surprised.
"His first hit was the night you died. Your deal with Azazel, to let him into our house." Her eyes widen in realization. "I know, we wouldn't exist without that deal. But... he wouldn't be going through this without it either."
"BOBBY!" Sam screams, apropo of nothing.
"So it was always hopeless?" Adam asks. "He never had a choice?"
"He didn't have a choice as a baby. But he has a choice now. He just made the wrong one." Dean explains.
Sam struggles against his bindings. Hands first. But it's no use. He feels the world around him begin to stutter, and realizes withdrawals are setting in again. He's getting sweaty and feels sick to his stomach, and his head is pounding. Sam feels like his brain is too big for his head, and his joints have begun to ache. Every nerve in his body feels like it's on fire. He sees Lucifer in Nick's form standing in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall.
"Okay, we'll pick up the Hell project later." Lucifer promises. He leans against his knees. "I don't... Sam I don't feel very good."
"Join the club." Sam mumbles. He hears the door open. Then he hears it open again. Then he hears it open again. He turns his head towards it. Then he turns his head again. Then he turns his head again. His father walks in, wearing a hospital gown. A stern and angry expression on his face, the same one he wore when he kicked Sam out what feels like a lifetime ago. His father shakes his head at him.
"Fuck..." Sam groans, not wanting to hear whatever it is his father has to say.
"Sam... What have you done to yourself?" His father slowly walks towards Sam, stopping at the head of the bed and leaning over him.
"I did what I had to." Sam answers.
"I should've put a bullet in you myself. Dean couldn't do it." John continues. Somewhere in the back of Sam's head, he knows he's hallucinating. But it doesn't stop him from answering.
"Do it now then. Shoot me! The colt- Dad, please! I had no choice! Please, it hurts!" Sam begs, despite himself.
"You've turned yourself into a monster, the very thing I wanted Dean to stop." His father continues.
"I know what I'm doing! I'm not a kid anymore!" Sam yells back, angry at everyone in his life assuming he can't handle things.
"Dean always did what he was told, but the one time it mattered... the one thing he could've done to stop armageddon, he couldn't do. You, on the other hand? You wouldn't listen to God himself." Lucifer scoffs, but his father doesn't seem to hear it. Sam throws the devil a confused look, and Lucifer shrugs innocently in response.
"He's not really there, Sam." Lucifer comments from his corner of the room.
"Neither are you." Sam retorts.
"No, but the real me is controlling the fake me so I'm basically real." Lucifer explains, and Sam realizes Lucifer's voice is coming from inside his head, as opposed to his father's which is coming from outside.
"You're not the man I raised you to be. You were my pride and joy, now look at you. I don't even recognize the thing you've turned yourself into. Nothing but a disappointment. What's the matter with you, saying yes to the devil? My worst nightmare come true. Pathetic, stupid, defiant piece of shit." The great John Winchester continues. To Sam's surprise, Lucifer seems to be oddly affected by the diatribe. His mouth hangs open and his eyes dart back and forth between Sam and his father. Sam doesn't know what to make of that.
"What is it?" Sam asks, genuinely curious for Lucifer's take on the situation.
"Nothing, it's just... I thought I had daddy issues. Kind of um... seeing the other side of the coin for the first time. But Sam, you know your dad was proud of you, right? Everything he's saying is just your brain misfiring because it doesn't know which way is up right now. I wish I could do more to help you through this, I really do. We're in this together, and we're gonna pull through." Sam doesn't know how to process these words coming from the father of lies. "Buddy, I gain nothing from lying to you right now. I want you to see tomorrow." Sam turns his head as nausea overtakes him, he doesn't want to choke on his own vomit.
"Lu-Help!" Sam screams, desperate for a solution.
"Easy there! I actually can help with that." Lucifer reaches out a phantom hand before seeming to realize he's inside of Sam. Suddenly, the nausea dissipates.
"Thank you." Sam whispers in Enochian. Lucifer simply nods with what seems to be a genuine (if small) smile.
Dean bangs his head against the door, trying to numb himself entirely. His mom has retreated to the library, thinking there might be some literature about this. Dean tried explaining to her that Sam is patient zero, but she wouldn't have it. Probably just couldn't put up with the screaming anymore. About an hour ago, Sam switched to speaking only in Enochian. Adam has been helpfully translating every word, something Dean is grateful for. Though he's still not making a lick of sense, it's good to know he's not summoning demons or something.
"Thank you. Can we survive this?" Adam translates, his voice monotone. Sam screams again, but instead of translating Adam looks at Dean. "Should we check on him? See if there's anything we can do to make this easier on him?" He asks. Dean shakes his head, knowing there's nothing they can do.
"Long as he's screaming, he's okay. If he stops, then we worry." Dean answers. "Listen kid, I'm sorry about all this. Snapping at you, that wasn't cool."
"I know you think I don't know anything, but you forget that I was in the cage with Sam, Lucifer, and Michael. I watched them tear him apart and put him back together just to tear him apart again. I know the way every muscle in his body twitches when he's in pain, and I know how much he can take. Something is stretching him to his absolute limit right now, and that's a pretty fucking high bar."
Dean looks at the floor, trying to will away the images that Adam just forced into his mind. Dean knows Sam can take a punch, but he hates how many he's had to. Dean had one job, just one. Keep Sam safe. Every time he flinches, every time he arms himself in a panic, every time he wakes up screaming Dean feels the weight of that failure. He bites his lip, choosing to refocus on the last sentence Adam said.
"Like what?" He asks.
"Beats me. I think he's using the demon blood to medicate himself." Adam explains. Dean can't say he disagrees with that assessment, he just doesn't think it's worth it.
"Yeah, he's medicating alright. That's not a good thing though." Dean relents. Sam screams something through the door.
"'You know I can't do that. And I won't let you hurt them.'" Adam translates.
Dean wonders who Sam thinks he's talking to. He finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle next to him. He considers getting another one, but decides against it. He already feels hollow inside, like the wind has been knocked out of him. Sam keeps screaming. Whatever he's just said has set Adam on-edge, the youngest Winchester looks around awkwardly and doesn't translate.
"What? What'd he say?" Dean mumbles, the alcohol finally affecting his speech.
"'What happened to Adam?'" Adam translates.
"That mean anything to you?" Dean asks, but Adam tightens his lips and shakes his head.
"No clue. Would help if I knew who he was talking to." Adam answers. Dean believes him.
"He's not talking to anybody. He's just hallucinating." Dean explains. "I should probably let Cas know about our little intervention." He touches his palms together in a prayer pose. "Cas, Dean. Figured out what's wrong with Sam-"
"No we didn't." Adam interupts. Dean decides to ignore him.
"He's been drinking the blood again. We're handling it but it's pulling us outta commission for a bit. Please stand by." Dean closes his eyes, trying to drift away and sink into that hole in his chest.
Sam's throat is dry and his voice is hoarse, he has no way of knowing how long he's been down here screaming his lungs out. He coughs, a deep lung cough, and a wad of blood splatters from his mouth and across his chest.
"Water..." he rasps. No way anyone outside the door understood that. "WATER!" He cries out louder. Sam can hear footsteps coming from behind him.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me..." Lucifer rolls his eyes at whoever is approaching. Sam turns his head and sees Adam tiptoeing in.
"Adam!" Sam announces, his voice full of relief. "Did you-"
"Did you think this through at all?" Adam cuts in. "You're supposed to be smart, Sam." Adam kneels by Sam's bed, the fear in his eyes playing a dissonant note to the condescension in his voice.
"What?" Sam whispers, baffled. He looks to Lucifer for some clarity, but the archangel simply shrugs.
"You let me out of the cage just to put me back in the same room as Lucifer. Dean would never do that to you."
"Adam, I'm sorry. It wasn't meant to go down like that!"
"No shit it wasn't! I put my ass on the line to get you that blade and you failed. You failed me, you failed Dean. You failed everyone."
"I'm not gonna let him hurt you." Sam promises.
"It's too late for that!" Adam screams, his face contorting and leaving motion tracks.
"Okay, enough." Lucifer interupts. "He's not there, Sam. Adam is outside that door worried out of his mind for you. Can we get back on task? You know, escaping before Dean, perfect brother he is, kills you?"
Sam isn't sure what to think. He's tired and sick and honestly doesn't have the energy to make any major escape plans. He tries to refocus, but he can't tear his eyes away from Adam's distorted face.
"Sam? Pay attention." Lucifer orders. Sam gulps in fear, though whether he's scared of Lucifer or the detox process is anybody's guess. Lucifer sighs, disappointed. "Fine, not like I need to conserve my own energy anyway." He waves a hand and Adam disintigrates before Sam's eyes, fracturing and dissolving into the air. "Let me up and I'll make sure this torture ends. Please, Sam. You need to trust me."
"I can't trust you." Sam answers, shaking his head. "You're you."
"Yes, I'm the source of all evil." Lucifer deadpans. "Can't we put all that behind us for the sake of living another day? You trust Dean. The man who promised to hear you out, but threw you in here the first chance he had."
"Dean thinks he's doing the right thing. He's just wrong. When it counts, he's always had my back. He's not Michael."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucifer asks, offended.
"You insist on seeing you two in us. Our dad told Dean he'd have to kill me, but he refused. No matter what, he just wouldn't. He saved my life, more times than I can count. And that's what he thinks he's doing now. I know you think there's some kind of as above so below thing going on, but the truth is humans and angels are too different to compare. Only thing we've got in common is a bad father." Sam has never really laid it out like this, but the truth of what he's just said hits him like a punch to the face. All that time Sam has spent beating himself up for the superficial traits he shares with Lucifer feels stupid with this new clarity. Lucifer seems similarly taken aback, either by Sam's words or his thoughts.
"I don't know who I'd be if Michael had been given the choice Dean was. Truth is, I don't know which one he'd make. Yet you always have faith in Dean. Why? How?" There's a certain sincerity in Lucifer's features that Sam doesn't know how to process. "I'm genuinely asking." Sam figures he can give Lucifer an honest answer here, what does he have to lose?
"This world can end at any time-"
"Then let it. This world wants you dead, this world left you in my hands, this world never gave you a chance at having the normal life you want so badly. Why do you care?"
"It's not Joe the farmer's fault I'm cosmically important." Sam fires back, not wanting to entertain the idea of letting the world end. "Do you still want me to answer-?" Lucifer nods, a stern expression on his face. "There are always these... these new rules, new monsters, new problems. As far back as I can remember, the only consistent thing in my life has been Dean. I go to bed every night unsure if I'll see tomorrow, but I'm sure Dean will have my back. It's as obvious and as unchanging as the sky being blue. I know he's pissed off right now, and he'll be even more pissed when he finds out you've been staying with us. But I also know he's not leaving me. Never. When all this is over with, we're going right back to being brothers. Because that's what matters." Lucifer's lip twitches, a small display of what must be anger. "You asked." Sam acknowledges.
"Yeah, I know. I just... felt the same way about Michael once. Then I screwed up one time too many and all that went out the window. He was given the chance to get our dad's favor and he took it, throwing me directly under the bus." Sam has to stop himself from feeling sympathy for the devil, but he has to admit there's absolutely an alternate universe where Sam ended up in a similar situation. If Dean had cast him out, or had died... "I guess I'm jealous. I know my reputation, but Dean will still be on your side. It's kind of annoying, actually. You're screwing him over bigger than I ever did Michael, but you're still loyal to each other." The reminder of where his loyalties lie snaps Sam out of some kind of trance. I can kick him out, he realizes. "Don't even think about that! C'mon, man... we just turned a corner!" Lucifer protests.
"I'm sorry," Sam whispers, shocked that he actually means it. "but you need to get out of me."
Nothing happens. They both just stare at each other. Why is he still here?
"You don't get to kick me out."
"Since the beginning, in all the changing states of the world, the lone unceasing force has been Dean." Adam translates in a monotone voice. Clearly hours of simultaneous translation have fried his brain, about half an hour ago he stopped translating into plain English and started speaking angel. Meaning Dean now has to translate angel to Sam. "Each night, I remain aware of the danger I exist within. I know not whether my eyes will open again, yet I know Dean is my savior. As sure and clear as the heavens above. Presently, he feels a great rage inside. That rage shall increase tenfold upon discovery of you. Even so, he will not leave me, for he can not leave me. Before this, he was my brother. And after he shall remain." Dean's heart breaks to hear Sam sing his praises, knowing the betrayal Sam is feeling right now. Dean had promised not to judge him, to hear him out. And what's the first thing he did? He shut his brother down and locked him in a dungeon to detox alone. Dean couldn't even stand to be at his brother's side for this. He's weak.
"What was that last part?" Dean asks. His mother rejoins them, having clearly struck out on finding anything about this just as Dean said she would.
"What?" Adam asks, snapping out of something.
"Okay, you need a break. I'll manage without a translator for a bit." Dean offers, the kid's head is melting.
"Is he getting any better?" His mom asks. Dean shakes his head.
"Worse. Which isn't typical, usually he'd be coming out of it by now." Suddenly, something Sam says activates Adam. He stands up quick as a whip.
"Move." Adam orders, nodding his head for Dean to get away from the door. Dean sighs and shakes his head.
"We've been over this..." Dean starts to give the explanation for the nth time, but Adam isn't having any of it.
"He just told us what's wrong. He's got an angel in him." That's even more impossible than him drinking the blood again for the hell of it.
"Wha- Cas would've seen it." Dean asks.
"I don't know why he couldn't, but he just tried to kick something out of him and is currently raging about it not working. The uncontrolled movements, the things he's been saying, the telekinesis. It makes sense, Dean." Dean doesn't know which way is up right now. Why would having an angel in him make him need-? Oh shit.
"Lucifer." Dean whispers. Adam gets impatient and tries to physically shove Dean away from the door.
"Woah, okay!" His mom holds a hand up, preparing to stop a fight. Thankfully, she doesn't have to. Dean is too stunned by Adam's sheer gall to try to fight. "Dean, open the door." Dean doesn't want to argue, if Sam is possessed this is an emergency. He throws the door open with trembling hands. Sam looks worse for wear, sweaty and panting. His shirt is covered in blood, and he's half-screaming half-crying in Enochian at a corner of the room. He doesn't even seem to notice the parade of people entering the dungeon. Dean runs straight up to Sam, who finally seems to realize he's not alone.
"Dean-!" He announces.
"It's alright, Sammy, I'm here." Dean assures him, not wanting to broach the topic of Satan until Sam's head is on straight. His mom goes to unchain him, Dean briefly considers stopping her but by the time he's decided to Sam is already free and sitting up.
"Sam, did you let Lucifer in?" Adam asks point-blank. Sam's answer comes in the form of a hug.
"I knew you'd figure it out." He whispers. Suddenly he straightens up and looks right at Dean, his eyes flaring red.
"Adam, get back!" Dean screams. Adam heeds the warning and takes a step back.
"WOOO! Thanks, Dean. I really owe you one." Lucifer laughs heartily using Sam's voice, it's eerie and haunting. To see Sam so very... not Sam. Sam's laugh is usually a lot smaller, he doesn't cackle like that. "Nice to see you again, Adam. And... Mom." Dean fully freezes, it's not like he can just attack Lucifer. And even if he could, he'd just end up killing Sam which would be untenable. His mom, still holding the chains in her hand, dives after Sam (Lucifer, not Sam) and attempts to bind him again. Sam (It's Lucifer, dammit!) holds a hand out and she doubles over in pain, bleeding profusely from her nose and choking on her own blood.
"Mom!" Dean screams on autopilot. She crumples to the floor, Dean doesn't have the heart to check if she's actually... he can't even think it. He turns back to face Lucifer. "Gonna give you one chance to get outta my brother." The corner of Sam's mouth turns up, a cruel smile.
"Sammy and I have come to an understanding. You leave us alone and I don't hurt you. Pity your mom couldn't wait ten seconds." And with that, he's gone. Taking Dean's entire world with him.
Notes:
To translate Sam's journal's gibberish, Sam has been measuring how control is divided between him and Lucifer using a 1-10 scale.
DFD=Direct from Demon
HF= Holy fire. He's tracking how long the flames last
Also this is the chapter that made me want to write this fic, so I really hope you enjoy it. Something about Crowley calling Sam Dean's "wife" and Dean assuming he meant Cas tickled my brain in a really funny way, and just the idea of Crowley essentially tattling on Sam for drinking demon blood kept me up at night. So I spawned this entire fic just to justify this chapter in particular. Half of this chapter flew into my brain fully-formed in my brain before I'd even started the first chapter. Hate that the timing of my personal life means my favorite chapter is probably the least coherent, but fitting that I'm writing a mental health crisis in the middle of experiencing one. I'm probably gonna edit it later but I didn't want it to wait another day.
Anywho, kudos and comments are appreciated, printed out, and framed on my wall so if you like this fic please let me know! Or if you don't, keep it respectful but I'd love to know why.
Chapter 12
Summary:
Dean is split 50/50 between panic and planning. He needs to find Lucifer, capture him, and get him out of Sam in that order.
Adam's theoretical idea becomes everyone's only hope.
Sam has no idea any of this is happening.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean rubs his face, desperate to wake from this nightmare. He paces the floor, looking everywhere but at his mother. Adam runs to her and checks her pulse. Dean kicks the bed where Sam had been laying just five minutes ago. He'd been screaming, begging for Dean to listen to him. But Dean did what he does best and shut his brother down. He broke a really simple promise and now the world is screwed. Just like Sam said it would be if Dean didn't complete the simple task of having a conversation. Dean officially wins the prize for worst brother ever. He's just let the devil run off with Sam because he was too angry to just open his goddamn ears. Dean makes a solemn vow that he will get Sam back. It's the only way he can even begin to make it up to him. How long has Sam been dealing with this alone? And how did Dean let that happen? How did he not notice? He should've immediately recognized the fact that Sam would never touch demon blood again without something being seriously wrong, and instead of asking what was wrong he just locked Sam up and threw away the key. He was an asshole, and now everyone else will have to pay for it.
Then again, Sam seriously screwed up here. He let the devil possess him without so much as a warning. Is this what he was unable to speak of? How could that be? He's just given Lucifer access to his most powerful vessel, who knows what kind of damage he's gonna be able to do? The whole thing could've been circumvented by Sam just saying no. Dean can save his anger until Sam is safe, the worry is overpowering any impulse to get mad. Dean switches to problem-solving mode, anxious to get Sam back under their roof as soon as possible.
"First things first, we gotta get a handle on where they've gone. Second things second, we get Lucifer out of him." Dean is thinking out loud, he doesn't have a plan for how exactly he's supposed to do that. His gaze falls to his mom and brother. "Is she...?"
"Dead. She's dead." Adam whispers. He takes a deep breath."What do we do now?".
"Cas, Sam's got the devil in him. They just took off, no clue where. We gotta get him back." Dean prays. Fortunately, Cas seems to understand the urgency of the situation as he's behind Dean before he's even finished talking.
"I thought Lucifer was dead." Cas notes, startling Dean.
"So did I. He just killed my mom using my brother's body. He's definitely alive."
Cas slowly steps over to where Dean's mom lay, kneeling before her. He holds a hand over her head and closes his eyes, searching for something.
"Her soul hasn't been reaped yet. It's not too late." He explains, palming her forehead. A light glows from Cas' chest and travels down his arm before being emitted at his hand, Dean recognizes what's going on as a resurrection. Dean watches Adam study Cas with fascination, he's never seen this happen before. It's weird how many chances the Winchesters get at life, that Dean is no longer shocked at someone coming back from the dead. Suddenly, his mom inhales loudly and her eyes fly open. She chokes on the blood still lingering in her throat, coughing it up.
"Wha-?" She looks around, panicked. Dean rushes to her side, steadying her.
"You died again. Cut that out." Dean is going for levity, but the worry in his voice is on clear display. Fortunately, she pretends not to notice it.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that." She says with a laugh that results in more blood issuing from her mouth. She's probably going to be coughing up blood at random intervals for a few days. Small price to pay to not be dead. Dean realizes he hadn't even thought to process her death at all. His thoughts were entirely on Sam's safety. Not a new development, but Dean wonders if he's seen too much death.
"I take it Lucifer is the reason Sam was imbibing?" Cas proposes. Dean nods, his lips tight.
"And we have no idea what Lucifer is planning." Adam interjects. "We might have, if we'd handled the situation better." Adam glares at Dean. He's clearly not going to let this go any time soon.
"You know what, kid? I get it. I fucked up. I broke my word and now Sam is in the wind with the devil. And I'm sorry." His tone is angry, but he genuinely feels remorse so he's sure his voice reflects that when he repeats "I'm really sorry. We gotta get him back, I'll tell him myself."
"Whatever Lucifer is planning, it can't be good." Cas points out. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Dean's phone rings, he pulls it out and checks it on the thin hope it's Sam.
"It's Crowley." He reads, unsure if he should answer it.
"If I were Lucifer, Hell's the first place I'd go." Adam comments, driving Dean to answer the phone.
"Crowley, quick heads-up-" Dean begins, hoping to warn him about Sam.
"Would've been nice! Guess who just waltzed into Hell dressed in his finest moose pelt?!"
"Yeah, I know. We're gonna handle it. Are you volunteering to help?"
"In exchange for a place to stay, yes. I'm outside your door, take down the warding." Better the devil you know.
"Alright gimme a minute." He says into the phone before hanging up. He turns to his family. "Meet us in the library." Everyone files out of the dungeon, Dean casts a glance back at the chains that had previously bound the single most important person in his life. The brother he'd betrayed. The brother who'd betrayed him. What the hell was Sam thinking, letting Lucifer in? Dean can only pray he gets the chance to ask. Dean goes to the garage and grabs a can of black spray paint, then he marches over to the warding wall and paints a line through the demon warding. The second the symbol is broken, he hears Adam scream from the library and rushes towards the sound in a panic. He expects to see some kind of scene, but instead he just sees Crowley holding his hands up in surrender.
"Crowley, you remember Mary and Adam." Dean does the introductions pointing at everyone as he says their names. "Crowley is the closest thing we have to a demon ally."
"Begrudgingly so." Crowley adds. "Would anyone care to enlighten me on why Lucifer walked right into the throne room wearing Sam?"
"Would if we could." Dean answers. "But we don't know. We just need to get him back and get Lucifer out."
"Sam was trying to kick him out when we burst in, but it didn't work." Adam points out.
"Wonderful." Crowley grumbles sarcastically.
"It's because he's Sam, he's the vessel. You wouldn't be able to eject Michael either." Cas explains, giving Dean a severe look. A warning not to let Michael in. It's not like Cas needs to say that, he knows already.
"Could we exorcise him?" Adam suggests. Dean has to admit, he's never considered the possibility of exorcising an angel. "If it works on demons, it might work on angels."
"Is that possible?" Mom asks Cas, an unreadable expression on her face.
"It is. It's obscure and rarely used, we'd need to 'hit the books,' as you say. Ironically enough, the only living human to ever witness one is the man in need of it." Cas explains.
"When did...?" Dean starts to ask, before deciding it ultimately doesn't matter. He shrugs, frowning slightly.
"I don't think he knows that's what he saw. He was... preoccupied with Alastair at the time." Cas answers the unfinished question. Dean blinks, not sure how else to respond to that he shifts immediately back to business.
"That's a talk we're gonna have later. Crowley, what can you do? You're not hiding out here for free." Dean stares into the demon, genuinely desperate for any help he can provide.
"There are a few demons who prefer my way to Lucifer's. I have eyes and ears in Hell. Not to mention, I have his medicine flowing through my veins." Guess we're going there.
"No." Dean states plainly. This is a hard line for him, even with everything at stake he's not risking his brother. "We're not giving him-"
"Enough!" His mom yells out, suddenly frustrated and startling Dean. "Sam has been possessed for who knows how long, but he's been remarkably in control practically the entire time. He only backslid when we dried him out. It was working! If Sam says he needs it, he needs it. End of story."
"Mom, I can't. I just can't." Dean shakes his head ruefully, this isn't an option. Cas puts a hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean turns to make eye contact as he speaks.
"Dean, Sam is the thin membrane protecting the world from Lucifer. The choices in front of us bring me no joy, but are you willing to doom everything over this?"
"Yes!" He slams his hand into the library table. "Yes, I am. I can't let Sam live the rest of his life corrupting himself."
"You'd rather he live an eternal life as a prisoner in his own mind?" Adam says bitterly. "Because that's what he's in for." This gives Dean pause. Adam knows how it feels to be possessed by an archangel, something Dean was willing to risk everything to avoid himself. Dean clenches his jaw, he hadn't thought of it like that. The demon blood would give Sam control over himself. Dean has to trust Sam here.
"Alright, fine." Dean relents "At least until we find an exorcism. We gotta get to him first. Mom, Adam, hit the books. Cas, Crowley, you're with me. We'll get the chains and cuffs and head to Hell."
"Lucifer wants my head, and I'm not suicidal." Crowley argues. Dean doesn't feel the need to push it, it's not like he can force the demon to cooperate.
"Fine. Call your guys, try to get info on what he's doing. Find an empty bottle in our spell supply cabinet and start bleeding, from the notes he's been taking it looks like he needs a lot. Cas, we leave in five." Dean will get his brother back. There is no alternative.
Sam chases after Bobby and Dean, a good distance behind them. He's tall for his age, but still the shortest of the trio at six years old.
"Hurry up, slowpoke!" Dean calls over his shoulder.
"Slow down!" Sam calls out after him. He sees Bobby and Dean make eye contact and pause to let Sam catch up to them. "How much farther?" He asks, out of breath. Bobby points to the lake ahead of them with a fishing pole.
"You can see it from here, just down the way."
"Wasn't Dad supposed to take us?" Sam asks innocently. He doesn't want to offend Bobby, but Sam was blindsided by his father's absence.
"Next week. He's busy." Dean answers, patting Sam on the back. "Let's keep going." The trio continues at a slower pace, each carrying their own supplies. Sam had insisted on carrying the tackle box all by himself.
"He's always busy." Sam complains. Dean sighs.
"He's doing important work, Sammy. Isn't that right, Bobby?" Dean says with a loaded look at the older man. Sam knows Dean is trying to get Bobby to agree for his benefit. He doesn't need to, Sam isn't stupid.
"That's right. Your daddy saves lives." Bobby agrees, though Sam can pick up a hint of anger. Sam hopes it isn't directed at him. He bites the inside of his cheek, not knowing how to continue the conversation.
They arrive at the lake, Sam and Dean sit with their legs dangling off the dock while Bobby strings up their poles. Dean attaches worms to three hooks and hands them over to Bobby as they're done.
"Alright, what's the key to catching fish?" Bobby asks.
"Patience." Sam answers immediately.
"Good bait." Dean answers at the same time.
"Both." Bobby confirms. "Always gotta be careful about what you choose for bait, don't want to use something too important." This confuses Sam, why would anyone use something important to bait fish? Dean seems to understand some hidden message which flies right over Sam's head. "And you gotta be patient, enjoy the time. Nothing worth doing is quick and easy." Bobby continues as he hands Sam and Dean their poles and takes a seat next to Dean.
"Wanna race? First catch wins?" Sam suggests.
"You're on!" Dean agrees. "Three... Two... One... Go!" All three of them cast their lines at the same time, Bobby and Dean's lines get tangled up in each other. Sam is glad to have an early lead as they both reel their lines in to try again.
Dean and Cas creep into the old asylum that's been functioning as Hell's base of Earth operations, they find the space suspiciously empty. Dean wonders if their information is off, maybe Sam and Lucifer are actually in Hell? They stick close to the walls, staying silent as they approach. They hear a foot slowly tapping against the concrete floor, as if the person it belongs to is bored. They get to the throne room itself, and Dean nearly throws up at the sight of his brother. That stupid white suit... As soon as they get him home, they're lighting the damn thing on fire.
"Dean. Should've known you couldn't stay away." Sam's voice sounds lighter, like it doesn't belong to a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dean is privately grateful, taking comfort in every small difference between Sam and Lucifer. It makes his life a lot easier without the conflict of interest.
"Yeah, you should've." Dean agrees. Then, because he can't help himself, he asks "How is he?"
"He thinks you're both fishing with Bobby Singer. He's fine. Believe it or not, I want him to be happy."
"You'll forgive our doubt." Cas cuts in.
"I will. I am nothing if not gracious." Lucifer bares Sam's teeth in a sickeningly sweet grin. Dean has hit his threshold for Lucifer's bs.
"Cut the shit, Lucifer. You know why I'm here, get out of my brother." Dean demands. He's not sure if he expected that to work, but he's not surprised when it doesn't.
"No. I don't think I will. You see, Sammy here is my insurance policy. Long as I'm in him, you can't kill me. Not to mention, he makes a fantastic suit. Most comfortable fit I've ever been in." Lucifer explains, examining the hands Dean used to hold on the walk to school. "I can't kill you, you can't kill me. So where does that leave us?" Lucifer can't kill me? Why? Dean and Cas slowly inch their way closer to Lucifer. "That's far enough!" Lucifer yells, Dean has to remind himself that the fear he's seeing is Lucifer's and not Sam's. He has to fight his instinct to rush to Sam's side.
"Okay! Okay." Dean puts his hands up, not sure what else to do. Dean glances at Cas and decides to distract Lucifer while Cas goes after him. "When did this even happen?"
"After the president. Sam really dragged his feet about it. Did everything he could to keep me in the dark. But down in that dungeon? What can I say? We bonded. And I have you to thank for that." The devil smirks, gloating about his victory. Perfect. Suddenly, Cas appears behind Sam/Lucifer. He dives after the tall body before him, but Lucifer simply appears behind Dean as Cas goes careening into the floor. "I just want to live and let live, Dean. Call it a truce. I've got a kingdom to rule and a father to angst over. Am I not entitled to some happiness and freedom? Is Sam not entitled to a little break?" Oh, he has got to be kidding with that.
"No. You're not entitled to jack fucking shit. Not at Sam's expense. And I doubt Sam would call this a break." Dean tries to hide the tremble threatening to slip into his voice. Lucifer shrugs, and goes to speak but Dean refuses to be interupted. "I know you seem to think I won't kill you. I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. Sam would rather die than live with you in him. He told me so himself." Brother killing brother echoes in Dean's mind.
"Sam seems pretty certain that you wouldn't be able to kill him. Guess we'll have to see whose faith in who was misplaced." Lucifer says with a small laugh before quickly turning serious. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd almost believe the devil when he says "I promise you, Dean. I'm taking good care of him. Please leave before I have to break his heart and kill you with his hands. You know he'd never forgive himself for that." Dean shakes his head, and clearly Lucifer isn't willing to entertain this conversation any longer because suddenly he Cas and Dean find themselves in the bunker library. Empty handed.
"What happened?" Adam asks.
"We had eyes on them. Exchanged words, but no attacks were made."
"Anything interesting?" Crowley asks, surprisingly invested.
"He said he can't kill me. I don't know why that could be. Said Sam is happy and that he's 'taking good care of him,' He's been in Sam since the night we 'killed him'"
"The day before the convent." His mom pipes up. Dean snaps a finger and points at her.
"The demons that've been showing up talking nonsense!" He recalls.
"The what?" Crowley asks, seemingly floored by this news.
"Random demons have been showing up talking to Sam about taking his place on Hell's throne." Dean explains. Crowley throws his arms up in exhasperation.
"And nobody thought to tell the current king of Hell that his position was being threatened?" He has the nerve to act offended, as though keeping this from him wasn't the logical next step.
"By Sam? I'd rather you didn't try to murder him, thanks." Dean replies. "We need allies. More eyes looking through our library." Their mom starts going through Dean's phone, trying to figure out who to call.
"We can call my mother." Crowley suggests. Dean weighs the pros and cons in his head. She's absolutely got the firepower they need, but can they trust her? Rowena isn't stupid, she's not going to act against her own self-interest. So if they make it clear that hurting Sam wouldn't serve her well, she'd be a valid option.
"I''ll give her a call. Tell her to meet us here." Dean says, taking his phone from his mother. He dials Rowena and holds the phone to his ear. She answers, the sound of club music playing in the background.
"Winchester." She answers. "What's happened now?"
"You want to help take Lucifer down?" Dean asks.
"Of course. Do we have a plan?" She replies, obviously excited at the prospect.
"Step one is getting him outta Sam."
"Oh dear. Poor man." She sounds earnest, but this is Rowena so Dean is skeptical.
"We could use your talents on this. I'll send you our address, meet us here when you can." Dean hangs up and texts her his location.
"What about that Garth guy who sent us to that vamp nest? He seemed nice." Mom suggests. Debating it in his head, Garth would be willing to come out of retirement for this. But he's kind of unpredictable and not overly capable. Who is the most capable living hunter? Jody.
"Garth is outta the game. I know a cop I could call though." Dean scrolls through his contacts and dials up Jody.
"Dean?" Dean can hear the TV playing in the background, either that or there's chatter going on.
"Hey, Jody. How's life?"
"Fine, kids are good. What's up?" She asks.
"Assembling a team. Sam's possessed by Lucifer and-"
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah, I know. All hands on deck situation, hoping you could help us out?"
"What do you need? I can raise an army, spread the word to every hunter I know-" A spike of panic runs through Dean's chest. This needs to be handled as hush-hush as possible. Sam's name being linked to Lucifer has gotten them killed before, and it will again.
"No! Thanks, but no. I don't need an army, I need people I can trust. I can't risk having everyone out for Sam's blood again." Dean explains, he hopes she understands. To Dean's surprise, she laughs in response.
"Roy and Walt weren't on the list, Dean."
"You heard about that?" Dean asks, shocked. Jody scoffs.
"Everyone has. I'll be there at first light." They hang up and Dean turns to face the assembled crew.
"Have we found the exorcism yet?" He asks.
"Dean, we've barely started looking. Some patience, please." Adam answers, surprised that the question is being asked.
"We can't afford to waste time!" Dean snaps. This has already taken too long, and Dean needs to grapple with the fact that it's his fault.
"Settle." His mom says, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We'll figure this out."
Dean takes a deep breath, tries to calm his nerves. But he can't afford to sit still for a single second. He needs to devote himself entirely to Sam's return. He grabs a book at random and cracks it open, recognizing the fact that he's doing the job that is usually Sam's. Once Rowena gets there, they're going to have a discussion about getting Lucifer on lockdown. They can't have him ruling Hell right now. Dean briefly debates making a pot of coffee, before deciding he can't spend any time doing anything not related to Sam. He can't prevent the guilt from building inside of him, distracting him from his task. Desperate for some comfort, he puts the book he initially grabbed away and picks up Bobby's angel guide. He decides to start at the very first page.
Turns out, angels are real. I can't find much information on them, yesterday we didn't even know they existed. So I figured I'd start keeping track of what I know for future generations of hunters. So far, we don't got much. Dean just showed up at my house after four months in the ground, me and Sam didn't know what to make of it. Eventually, Dean and I got ahold of the thing that pulled him outta Hell (still haven't processed the fact that he's back yet, far as I know this is the only time that's happened ever). Blasted it full of lead, but it just kept on coming. Dean managed to stab it with the demon knife to no effect. I don't even know what happened next, but what I do know is angels are no fucking joke.
Dean smiles fondly at the memory, who could've guessed at the time that Cas would become so ingrained in the Winchesters' lives? He'd been absolutely terrified at the time, so had Bobby. Bobby hardly believed it when he woke up. Now there's one of these all-powerful super beings inside of Sam, controlling his every move. If Dean has anything to say about it, that won't continue past dark today.
Sam sits criss-cross applesauce with his line still bobbing up and down in the water. He has a little kid fishing pole, and he knows Dean will be embarrassed if he loses the first year he gets a grown-up pole. After fifteen minutes, nobody has caught anything. Sam starts whistling the Scooby Doo theme song out of a lack of anything else to do. Dean joins in with the lyrics.
"Scooby dooby doo, where are you-" Suddenly the voice is gone. Sam turns to where Dean was sitting just miliseconds ago and finds him absent.
"What's that look for?" Bobby asks as Sam whips his head around.
"Where'd Dean go?" Sam asks, wondering if he missed something.
"He's out with your daddy. They'll be back soon." Bobby answers. But that can't possibly be right, Dean was just there.
"No, he's not. He came fishing with us. We were racing." Sam explains, grasping for a possible explanation.
"You and I were racing. Dean was never here." Bobby says with a confused shake of his head. Sam scratches his head in confusion. None of this is making any sense. He looks down at his legs, suddenly a lot longer. He sets his full-size fishing pole next to him and stands up, confused at his newfound height. He's taller than Bobby now.
"Bobby? What's going on?" Sam asks, his voice is deeper now too. That of an adult. How did he grow up so fast? Bobby turns to face Sam, and Sam is stunned by what he sees. Blood trickles down the right side of Bobby's forehead, coming from what looks to be a bullet wound. His eyes take on a cloudy appearance and his mouth hangs slightly open. "Bobby?" Sam repeats, now thoroughly convinced he's dreaming. Sam looks down at his body, noting a change in outfit. A well-tailored white suit. Sam feels his heart drop to his stomach as he finally realizes what's going on. "I'm possessed." He whispers. Bobby nods gently in response. "I gotta get back out there before my family gets hurt!"
"You don't need to worry about them." Bobby replies. What the hell is he talking about? Of course I need to worry about them.
"No, you don't understand. Lucifer is going to kill Dean." Sam grabs Bobby's shoulders and looks him in the eye, deliberately avoiding the bullet hole in his head.
"He can't. He's not stupid enough to kill Dean." Bobby states.
"He's not stupid enough to let Dean live." Sam grumbles with an eye roll.
"Sam, killing Dean would be the wrong call for Lucifer to make." The explanation elicits a scoff from Sam.
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.
"Think about it. You know the answer." Bobby assures him. Sam isn't sure he understands. I mean, last time Lucifer was in him he tried to kill Dean and had an easy time until-
"I can't kill him. I'd be able to take control back if he tried." Bobby nods in confirmation. Sam shakes his head, that doesn't matter. "Either way, I gotta get outta here."
"Dean will be fine so long as you keep your faith in him. You'll be safe in here." Bobby hugs him, and Sam can't help but feel comforted. He knows this isn't real, but dammit it feels real enough.
Jody walks right into the bunker, carrying a roll of paper. Dean waves her down the stairs and rises to meet her.
"Hey, Jody. Thanks for coming." Dean kisses her on the cheek.
"Wouldn't miss it. Magda made this for Sam." She says, unfurling the paper. It's a beautiful portrait of Sam, light shining behind him. He looks tall and strong, just like he is. Almost angelic. Dean knows this painting will mean a lot to him, and he feels a sudden jump in his longing for Sam.
"Let's get him back here so he can see it." Dean gives a half-hearted smile. He's trying to be optimistic, but it's tough. This is the worst possible scenario. Worse than death or dishonor. His mom gets up and heads to the kitchen.
"I'm gonna make a pot of coffee. We've got a lot of books to dig through." She announces. Jody grabs a book and cracks the spine, reminding Dean of Sam for all the world. She reads wicked fast, Dean realizes he should have called her sooner. Crowley's phone rings, the demon answers it.
"You've reached Crowley." He says. Dean shakes his head, Crowley is not about to hide anything from him.
"Put it on speaker." He demands. Crowley rolls his eyes and pushes the button.
"Only door still locked is the cage." The male voice on the other side says. "Things are mobilizing down here. Orders are to target hunters and religious folk."
"Target them for what?" Dean whispers. Crowley repeats after him.
"Possession and terrorism. Lucifer has a chip on his shoulder, he wants to prove that God isn't going to save them." Well, fuck. Dean stands up and grabs the red overshirt from the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulder. He taps Adam on the back and nods for him to get up. Adam rises from his seat, a confused expression on his face.
"Wonderful." Crowley replies before hanging up. "Where are you going?"
"To get Adam inked." Dean answers.
"To do what?" Adam asks, incredulous. Dean tugs his shirt down, revealing his anti-possession tattoo.
"This isn't decorative. It keeps the demons out. If Hell is staging a takeover, I'd rather keep my possessed brothers to a minimum." Dean explains simply. "Jody, you-" Jody doesn't look up from her book as she rolls down her sleeve, revealing a smaller version tattooed on her shoulder. "Alright then." He turns back to Adam. "C'mon." He leads his brother out of the bunker and to the car. Again, Dean feels weird having anyone other than Sam in the passenger seat. It got easier while he was hunting with his mom, but it never felt natural. It's likely made worse by the tense atmosphere hanging between Dean and Adam. Adam refuses to make eye contact with Dean, and Dean is grateful for it. He's not sure he could handle the level of anger in the kid's eyes. About five minutes from the bunker, Adam seems unable to contain himself.
"I owe you one hell of an 'I told you so' right now." He says, his gaze fixed out the window.
"Yeah you do. I know I just screwed everything up, but I'm gonna fix it or die trying." He sighs. "Just like we always do when we break the world."
"What does that mean?" Adam asks, finally turning to face Dean.
"Nothing. Just something that happens when you're a Winchester. You accidentally almost end the world then you clean up your mess."
"O-Okay?" Adam shakes his head, clearly confused but not wanting to press the issue. "Just... promise me we're gonna get him back."
"I think your plan will work. It's a matter of when, not if, and how much damage gets done in the meantime. Genius plan, by the way. If dad ended up with you, you would've been a complete natural at this stuff."
"Yeah, I'm kinda glad he didn't." Adam smiles regretfully.
"Me too. I'm sorry for all the bullshit you had to go through just for being his son. We both know Hell isn't easy. And we both know you didn't belong there." Dean genuinely means this apology. He will never be able to forget the fact that Adam took a bullet that was aimed at him. There's nothing Dean can ever do or say to make up for that. He's just going to have to settle for never letting it happen again.
"You wanna know what the worst part of possession is?" Dean considers whether or not he does. He doesn't want to think about what Sam is going through right now. Before he can answer, Adam continues speaking. "The complete and total loss of self. The loss of desire, of want. I existed in a permanent state of apathy. I stopped existing, stopped feeling. Stopped breathing. I would've forgotten my own name if Michael didn't say it constantly. I'm just worried that's what Sam is in for. That when we get him back, he won't be himself anymore." That is a horrifying thought. Dean shakes his head, unwilling to let that possibility enter his mind. Lucifer won't be in him long enough.
"We just gotta get him back in the bunker so he can take control back." Dean smiles, wondering what Sam would say if he were here. He'd probably get pissy about missing Adam's tattoo. They pull into the tattoo parlor. Dean gets out and he slides the key into the lock as Adam walks into the shop. Dean goes to meet his brother, who is being greeted by a young woman decked out in gorgeous nature-themed art. Her name tag reads Lily.The place is small, only three tables, and the walls are overflowing with after pictures showing various artist's work.
"Do you have an appointment today?" She asks. Adam looks to Dean anxiously.
"No, we were hoping you had time for a walk-in." Dean answers. "Kind of on a time crunch."
"What are you looking to get done? I might be able to take you if it's not too complicated."
"It's not." Dean reveals his own tattoo to her.
"Well it looks like you already have it." She says with a smile.
"Oh, no. It's for him." Dean points at Adam. Lily looks at the younger brother, seeming concerned.
"Do you want this tattoo, Hun?" She asks. Dean's not sure whether or not he should be offended. What does she think is going on here? Adam nods, similarly confused.
"We're brothers. Getting this tattoo is kind of a milestone for the men in our family." Dean doesn't know why he feels the need to explain anything to her. Is it the implication that he's doing anything to Adam against his will? Probably. Whatever.
"Yeah. Can you fit us in?" Adam pipes up. She nods her head and leads them back towards a table.
"Where do you want it, Hun?" She asks. Adam shrugs. "You have to have an opinion on this, it's gonna be stuck wherever we put it so you gotta be sure."
"Get it somewhere it can be hidden." So if there's a manhunt for you, there's nothing easily identifiable on display. "For your professional future."
"Can I get it here?" He asks, patting his right shoulder blade. Interesting choice. She nods and Adam pulls his shirt off. The tattoo artist cleans the skin and gets to work. Adam notably doesn't react to the needle as it touches his skin. Dean tries not to hover over the artist, he doesn't want to disrupt her.
"Is Sam gonna be mad we didn't wait for him?" Adam says. Dean doesn't want to discuss where Sam is in front of civilians. But the honest answer is probably. Sam would've wanted to be here for this. But Sam would also understand the urgency.
"Oh, yeah. He wouldn't have wanted to miss this. Lets talk about anything else please."
"Did Dad take you to get your tattoo?" He asks. Well, that's better than talking about Sam.
"No. He died first." Dean shakes his head, he doesn't really want to discuss their father right now either.
"What was he like? He was pretty absent in my life. Only really saw him on my birthdays."
Well, that's a real thinker. What was he like? And how much can I share in public? John Winchester did the best he could, but if Dean is being completely honest with himself his best was not good enough. He put too much on his kids, and actively sent them into danger. Something he had to know their mother wouldn't approve of. But he sent himself to Hell and gave up on his life's mission in exchange for Dean's life. Plenty of more functional parents wouldn't do that for their kids, right? None of this matters at this exact moment, it's not like he can be honest here and now.
"We saw a different side of him than you did. I remember what he was like way back when. Before our mom died. Sam only knows the drill sargent. You barely know the man at all. One man raised three sons completely differently to each other. He was an interesting man, I'm sure there are lots of stories he didn't tell you."
"How did he treat you?"
"I don't wanna talk about this right now." Dean snaps with a pointed look in the direction of the tattoo artist. He doesn't want to air out their dirty laundry in public.
"I was just wondering, you don't have to bite my head off." Adam shrugs, clearly trying to defuse Dean.
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, it's just been a really weird day." Dean concedes. Dean's phone rings, his mom is calling him. He answers it quickly, hoping for good news.
"Hey, Mom. What's up?" The tattoo artist's focus snaps to Dean for reasons he doesn't understand.
"Rowena says we can summon Lucifer with a spell. Might be a way to minimize the damage he can do." Of course! Absolute genius.
"And get his uh... medication in him." It kills Dean to call it that, but he can't come up with a different word. "We'll try it when we get done here."
Sam is running through his own head, trying to find the exit door. Bobby chases after him, struggling to keep up. They're surrounded by a forest that feels vaguely familiar, though Sam can't quite place it.
"Sam!" Bobby calls out. "Calm down!"
"You're not real." Sam pants, not stopping or slowing for a moment. "You're dead."
"That don't mean you need to run from me!" Suddenly, Bobby appears directly in front of Sam, stopping him in his tracks.
"I just want to get back out there, back to my body."
"I know you do. But it's not safe right now." Bobby places a hand on Sam's shoulder, looking up at him. Sam throws Bobby's arm away in frustration.
"Everyone on the planet gets a lot safer with me at the wheel."
"Everyone but you, Sam. The amount of blood you've been drinking to maintain... it's been doing some damage. You need to take a breather before you turn into the devil instead of just playin' host to him." This manages to get Sam's attention.
"What kind of damage?" Sam asks. He's not sure if he will be able to trust whatever answer comes out of Bobby's mouth, but he knows he wants to hear it regardless.
"You've got Lucifer's grace and a lot of demon blood running through you at the same time. Combine that with a human soul and you get...?"
"A prince of Hell." Sam sighs, he can't let that stop him. A demon is a lot easier to control than an archangel. "We can kill that prince when we come to it."
"Sam, no. Just hide out here until it's safe for you to come out. It's peaceful and calm. You won't hunger, or want for anything." Bobby is trying to comfort him, but there's no way for Sam to feel safe with Lucifer inside of him. Being possessed is like having a bomb surgically implanted into your chest.
"I need to go back to my brother."
"Just stop, let go. You don't have to beat the devil."
Sam doesn't know how to respond, or even if he should. It's not like he's really talking to Bobby.
"I can't."
"Stop messing with it." Dean warns Adam as they walk through their front door. He keeps touching his new tattoo, and if he doesn't stop the ink is gonna bleed and the whole thing will be for nothing.
"It itches." Adam complains.
"Yeah, it's gonna do that. Leave it alone." They descend the stairs, meeting the assembled crew at the table. "Any progress?" Dean asks.
"Not yet." His mom answers. "We're planning on summoning them here and locking them down while we look."
"Good plan." Dean concedes. Suddenly, Cas doubles over in pain. His eyes glow blue and catches himself on the table. "Cas? You okay?"
"No. Sam and Lucifer are with Eileen." Cas answers.
"How do you know that?" Adam asks curiously.
"They've just conceived a child with her."
"What the fuck?" Dean asks, unwilling to believe it.
"Nephilim are forbidden, all of Heaven and Hell will soon descend on Eileen and Sam. We need to get them here. Now."
Dean doesn't know how to process this. It's insane. Why the hell would Lucifer want to do that? It seems like he's just trying to piss off Sam. Actually, wait that might be it.
"Let's go." Dean agrees.
Notes:
Will be edited upon recovery. Honestly, the entire rest of this fic will be edited once my brain starts working again. Words are literally falling out of my head and I'm losing track of what I wanted to say midway through a sentence.
Chapter 13
Summary:
Lucifer is in the wind, who knows what he's doing? Certainly not Sam.
Dean needs to get his brother back at all costs.
Hell makes some major moves.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Flying around via angel has always made Dean feel sick. Something about moving faster than the speed of light threatened to bring his lunch back up to meet him. This time is harder than most as he's greeted by his naked brother and Eileen in bed at a Super 8. Dean covers his eyes, wanting to give them privacy despite the fact that he just suddenly appeared before them.
"Really, Lucifer? We're doing this?" Dean can't help but express his shock at Lucifer's behavior. "I wish I could say I was disappointed but I'm just confused."
"Lucifer?" Eileen repeats. Dean nods his head and removes his hand from his face. He feels incredibly guilty about the situation she's just found herself in. If Dean had just listened to Sam or Adam, this wouldn't have happened. There's a very obvious consent issue here that Dean blames himself for.
"I'm so sorry. You're gonna have to come with us." Dean slowly approaches Eileen, the look of shock on her face is upsetting. He takes her hand and helps her up.
"She's staying with me. You can go, we're kind of in the middle of something." Lucifer claims. But there's just no way in hell Dean is leaving. Lucifer's got his brother, that doesn't float with him.
"You're coming too." Dean agrees, pulling the cuffs from his pocket. A flap of wings as Lucifer disappears. "We'll deal with that later. We need to get you outta here before-"
Three new bodies appear in the room. A ginger woman who reminds Dean of Charlie, a black woman with soft features, and... is that Brad Pitt? Holy shit, that's Brad Pitt. Dean takes a step in front of Eileen protectively.
"Winchester. You are out of your depth here. Step away from the nephilim's mother." Brad commands. Dean blocks his path as he steps forward.
"Sorry, Joe Black. She's with us." Dean's tone is casual, he wants to defuse the situation as calmly as possible. Evidently, that's not going to work as the trio draw their blades. Dean pulls his own angel blade from his boot. "Are we really gonna do this?" Dean laces his voice with a threatening air. He doesn't want to cause problems but he will not hesitate. He makes eye contact with Cas, who licks his lips anxiously. The ginger woman dives after Dean, brandishing her blade. Dean grabs her arm and spins her around, tossing her to the floor. She hits the ground hard and struggles to return to her feet. The other woman grabs Dean by the arm and takes him to the ground where a scuffle begins as Brad tries to close the distance between himself and Eileen.
"Dean!" Cas screams out. A little help here, please! Cas looks around wildly, unsure of what to do. What's gotten into him? Dean hands his blade to Eileen, figuring she needs it more. She stabs it into Brad's chest, causing him to flicker out and fall to the ground in a heap.
"Cas, a little help?" Dean yells, trying to get the angel's attention. Cas seems to finally realize the situation he's in. Instead of helping Dean, he runs over to Eileen and helps her get to her feet. Dean rolls the woman over him and yanks Cas' blade from his hand before driving it into the center of her chest. The ginger woman is the last angel standing. She reaches for Eileen, turning her back on Dean allowing him to stab her in the back. She falls to the floor dead.
"Cas, what the hell happened? You couldn't help?" Dean needs to know if something is wrong with Cas too.
"I'm sorry Dean. I... once angels are extinct we're extinct." Cas explains, looking to the ground. "I need to stop casually shedding my siblings' blood."
"What just happened?" Eileen asks. Her gaze is locked on Brad's open dead eyes.
"Let's get you to the bunker first." Cas offers as he places a hand on both Dean's and Eileen's shoulders. The world around them warps as Cas flies them back home. Eileen looks around in a panic.
"Eileen, I'm so sorry." Dean says, he doesn't know how to break this news to her. "Lucifer got into Sam. You're pregnant with an angel kid." Her eyes widen in shock and fear. She looks absolutely horrified.
"Wha- what?" She asks in disbelief. His mom approaches and rubs circles into her back. "What does that mean?"
"It's not good." Dean says. "Lucifer isn't exactly fatherhood material."
"I'll make you some tea, dear." Rowena offers. Eileen doesn't acknowledge her as she goes off to the kitchen.
If I get back to Dean, I'll get back to my body. He doesn't know why he's so sure of that, but he is. Sam charges off in a direction, hopefully towards the bunker though he can't be too sure. Bobby is still following him, struggling to keep up.
"Sam, you gotta relax." Bobby is still trying to get Sam to stop trying. But that simply won't work. "You're safe. Lucifer's not gonna let you get hurt."
"He's just going to steal my body and use it to wreck the world." Sam deadpans. What the hell does Bobby think is happening here?
In the blink of an eye, Sam finds himself in his nursery. The only home he had growing up, one he can't even remember. Sam doesn't know what to make of the dream logic he's experiencing. How did he get here? Why is he here? He approaches the crib, leaning over it and peering at the infant asleep inside. Sam hears the pitter patter of footsteps and whips his head around in a panic. He sees a little boy charging up to the crib, walking straight through Sam as though he wasn't even there. Dean? They both look so young. So innocent. So normal. It's hard to picture this kindergartener practically raising this baby, and going on to have the fate of the world on his back. It's not fair, these kids should have had a normal life. They should have had a home, a school, a social life, a job that actually paid them money.
"It's okay, Sammy. I don't know what you were thinking, but I'm not letting you go without a fight. We're gonna get you back. One way or another, we always pull through. And it's no different this time." Dean kisses his hand and touches it to the baby's forehead.
Bobby walks into the room and takes in the scene before him. Dean doesn't seem to see him.
"Life hasn't been kind to these kids, has it?" He says, patting Sam on the shoulder.
"Yeah, guess not. Weird seeing ourselves so... small." Sam regards the little Dean, already unmistakable as his brother. Sam can't imagine what his father was thinking, dragging these two all across the country hunting monsters. Children should be protected, not trained to be soldiers.
"You never really got to be a kid. You deserve to take a break, Sam." Sam feels weirdly offended by the implication that he would ever be able to relax with Lucifer inside of him.
"Is that what you think this is? A break? Lucifer can't be planning anything good, Bobby."
"You don't know that, Sam." What's gotten into me? Why the hell is he talking like that?
"Yeah, I do. Lucifer is angry, his father abandoned him. He can't take it out on Chuck, but he can take it out on humanity so that's what he's going to do."
"Sound like anyone else you know?" Bobby raises a brow, clearly prepared to have offended Sam.
"No!" Suddenly, the room around them warps and shrinks, before growing to be an entirely different setting. It's a fairly standard motel room, but Sam recognizes this specific one. He will never forget this room, it's tattooed into his brain. There are two beds with brown covers and a stained pullout couch, a TV with a circle burned into the right corner hanging over a dresser. He sees his father, sitting on the bed cleaning his gun while Dean watches the news. Sam knows what is about to happen, and he doesn't want to see this again. An eighteen year old Sam tries to open the door, fails, and gets it on the second try. The younger him is clearly excited, but he knows that won't last.
"What's got you so hyper?" Dean asks, immediately noticing his brother.
"I just got my results back. Figured we could open them together."
"Results of what?" His father asks.
"Financial aide. I applied for a bunch of scholarships." Sam answers.
"What for? You're not going to school." His father says with finality, not even looking up from his work. Dean seems to sense what's coming and turns the TV off.
"Yeah, I am." Sam opens the envelope. He still remembers the flutter in his heart when he read the total scholarship amount. It was a full ride. He knew his dad would never pay for any of it, so he really had to bank on financial aide.
"No, you're not. You're staying with us." His dad insists. Sam feels his face get hot, the same way it did that day.
"What's it say, Sammy?" Dean asks.
"I don't have to pay a cent. I'm going to college." He grins proudly, handing the paper to Dean.
"Like hell! We still have a mission, or have you forgotten?" His father rises from the bed and walks towards the younger Sam.
"Believe me, I can't forget. You won't let me." Sam grumbles.
"Do you want to?! This matters, Sam. You don't get to just walk out on your family! People are dying out there, and you wanna tuck tail?!" Things are escalating. Sam wants to leave, watching his angrier younger self is not an enjoyable experience.
"I'm allowed to live my own life, Dad! Am I supposed to just wait around for us to find the damn thing?! No, I'm not gonna be hunting when I'm fucking forty! I'm gonna live the life that most parents dream up for their kids. What the hell is wrong with you that you don't want that for us!?" Sam's volume raises slowly but surely, Dean stands up and approaches the two men standing chest to chest.
"Can we not do this, guys?" Dean begs, but things have already gone too far. Sam remembers this moment feeling like a dam breaking. They'd argued before, but Sam always held back. But once he finally had an out? He no longer felt like he needed to keep things under control.
"I'm going to school, I don't give a shit about your fucked up revenge quest! It's not like I even knew Mom anyway." Sam spits. He knew at the time those words would cut deep, but he was on a roll and didn't care. This pot had been simmering his entire life and it was finally boiling over. "I bet she'd hate the way we grew up! Any sane parent would look at you with disgust. Your son just got a full ride and you're angry!"
"I thought I raised you better than that. I thought I raised you to give a damn about more than just yourself. But you're ready to just abandon your brother and I, and for what? A stupid career that means nothing? You're being selfish, Sam. You're no son of mine. This family is all we have and you wanna sign yourself out?!" Watching his younger self's expression, it's clear Sam didn't do as good a job hiding his hurt as he thought he did. "You're a disappointment. Dean and I don't need you here, dragging us down."
"Dad..." Dean says, his voice warning him.
"So everything I've done for this family doesn't count because I want to be safe? Do you realize how fucking backwards that sounds?!"
"You're quitting before the job is done!" Quitting, he called it, to not want to sacrifice his life for a mission that ultimately wouldn't do anything. His mom would still be dead whether they killed whatever got her or not.
"This job has taken my entire life, Dad! At some point, we gotta accept reality. We're never gonna find the thing that killed Mom. You need to move on. That's what I'm doing. Get laid, get married, I don't care. Just let us live for ourselves! I'm leaving, with or without your permission."
"Sam!" Dean exclaims, getting in between the two men and looking Sam dead in the eye. "That's enough!"
"Fine, then, leave! But if you walk out that door, don't you dare come back!" Sam recalls how hot his face got that day. All he wanted to do was go to school like a normal person. It didn't need to escalate to him being completely disowned. He'd put up with a lot of shit from his dad, but his patience had run completely dry. He'd charged out that door without a second thought out of pure anger. Bobby suddenly appears behind Sam.
"Seems like Lucifer's not the only one with a fucked up family." He says, patting Sam on the back.
"What's your point, Bobby?"
"Maybe this was all meant to happen. You can live a perfect life in your head, it doesn't matter what Lucifer does outside of here."
Dean nudges a chicken sandwich towards Eileen. She doesn't acknowledge it and simply stares ahead. She's despondant, bordering on catatonic. Suddenly she looks up and makes eye contact with Dean.
"I need to talk to Sam." She demands.
"Yeah, get in line." Dean grumbles. He desperately wants to know what convinced Sam to say yes. If he knew one thing about his brother, it's that he would never say yes to being possessed by anything, but Lucifer least of all.
"Explain it to me one more time." She insists. Dean looks to Cas, and gestures towards her. Do it. She's having a hard time.
"Nephilim are forbidden. The flaws of humanity combined with near-absolute power. Both Heaven and Hell will be chasing after you, Heaven to kill you and Hell to take the child. For your safety, we need to find a way to end this pregnancy. You won't survive it, the birth of a nephilim results in the death of the mother." Cas repeats.
"I can't. Not until I talk to Sam. But guys... I can hear my child's voice. He's kind. His voice is beautiful." Eileen's voice sounds shocked. Dean can't say he feels differently.
"Wait, you can hear?" Dean asks, pointing at his own ears.
"Not really. I can hear him. He's asking questions. I need to talk to Sam."
"Well, let's try to make that happen. Rowena?" Dean asks. Rowena approaches and pours holy oil in a perfect circle before setting it ablaze. She says the spell, but to Dean's surprise she's speaking Latin rather than Enochian. He makes confused eye contact with Cas. Glowing lights in the shape of a human materialize inside of the holy fire, orange and bright until the light settles and takes on Sam's coloration.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me, Dean." Lucifer says with an eye roll before looking at Eileen. "Hey, sexy mama." Well that's uncomfortable.
"Alright, shut up." Dean interupts whatever the fuck he's trying to do. "Crowley? He needs about a bottle, you got that?" Crowley slowly approaches Dean, carrying a large glass bottle of blood. He hands it to Dean, clearly too scared to get close to Lucifer. Dean walks over to the holy fire, carefully stepping over it to hand Sam the bottle. Lucifer, not Sam. He reminds himself. Lucifer looks Dean up and down.
"Surprised you're on board with this, Dean." He says, raising the bottle. "Isn't this like.. a core wound for your family?"
"You're the core wound, Lucifer. Drink it before I force it down your throat."
"Careful with my new toy. It's in mint condition, like to keep it that way."
"Drink it. Now." Dean commands. Lucifer does take a few sips, but nowhere near the amount Sam has been drinking.
"That's disgusting. Like dog water." Lucifer sputters.
"Oh, I'm sorry. The bartender is out. Finish it." Dean orders. Lucifer smirks at him before extending the hand with the bottle away from his body.
"Oops." He lets the bottle slip through his fingers. It crashes to the floor, shattering into pieces. Jody nudges Dean on the shoulder and pulls him aside.
"I've got an idea. Alex can put in an ng tube, a feeding tube, and we can get it in him that way. She needs the practice anyways. We tie him down so he doesn't do anything stupid with it."
"Yes, yes! That's a great idea. If she's down for it, I am too. Go give her a call." Dean agrees. Jody pulls out her phone and calls Alex, holding the phone to her ear.
"Hey, Alex. I'm with the Winchesters... Yes, I'm fine. Have a job for you... Mind putting in a feeding tube? ...Lucifer is in Sam and he's refusing to take his medicine... We'll all have your back, you'll be fine. Thank you. See you in a bit. Love you." She hangs up. "She's on her way, she'll be here in the evening." Dean hugs Jody from sheer gratitude.
The room Sam is in shrinks and grows again, transforming into the bunker. He sees himself trapped in a ring of holy fire, surrounded by Jody, Eileen, Cas, Rowena, Adam, Crowley, Dean, and his mom. It's clear he's in trouble.
"Guys!" He calls out. Bobby appears behind him.
"They can't hear you, Sam." Bobby says. "They've got Lucifer under control, you can relax."
"Eileen, we really gotta talk about your situation. You've got the incredibly powerful and unpredictable child of the devil in you. We got no way of knowing what that's gonna look like for the rest of the world." Dean says, sitting down across from Eileen. What the hell is he talking about? Did I.. did we..?
"I'm not abandoning my child. I need to talk to Sam." I'd kill to talk to you too. This is insanity and I'm not letting you do this without help. I'm so sorry for putting you in this situation, for leaving you in the same room as the devil. I will never forgive myself for that. Never. This is what I get, when will I learn?
"It's not just your child, dear." Rowena explains.
"Is she pregnant?" Sam asks. Bobby nods his head.
"The second you two broke free, you got a call from Eileen inviting you over. Lucifer picked up the phone."
"I need to get back to them. I can't let her face whatever comes with being the devil's dam alone. She wants to talk to me, she's gonna get that chance." Sam insists. He's got his heart set on it.
"I'm worried about you, son." Bobby says. But Sam isn't sure why. Looking around the room, there are some faces he'd expect to see but others he's surprised showed up to help. His eyes fall to the floor, he sees a shattered bottle of blood. Clearly Dean has come to his senses. Sam questions what Bobby has been saying, with all these people rallying around him it's unlikely that Lucifer will be able to do too much damage. But in the meantime, what the hell can he do? He assumed coming back to the bunker would get him back in control, but he's just silently observing what's going on around him.
"How far out is Alex with the feeding tube?" Adam asks. Feeding tube?
"Four hours." Jody answers. Dean steps over the holy fire with Sam's new best friend, the handcuffs.
"I wouldn't do that." Lucifer warns, leaning away from Dean.
"You're not stupid enough to try to kill any of us." Dean replies as he tackles Lucifer to the ground. Sam feels no pain, though he's sure that fall hurt as his head bounced against the floor. He watches from a safe vantage point as his brother tussels with him, cuffing him in front of his chest. Sam breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that Lucifer's powers have been limited.
"I don't understand you, Dean." Lucifer speaks slowly. Dean doesn't understand why he's speaking at all. "You act like some big hero, Sam's savior. But you react with violence at the first sign of conflict. You try to control him, just like your dad. Did you know Sam is still hurt about the Gadreel incident? He just doesn't talk about it because he doesn't want to piss you off." Dean tries to turn off his ears, he doesn't want to listen to a single word out of Lucifer's mouth.
"He's the devil, Dean. Consider the source." His mom reassures him.
"Of course, I'm the cause of everything evil this world has to offer. I can't possibly be telling the truth." Lucifer quips sarcastically. Dean will have to ask Sam about this, he doesn't want to just take Lucifer's word but it is entirely possible that Sam holds his behavior against him. Lucifer turns to Adam. "You're looking much healthier now that you're on Earth. How'd you get out, kid?" Adam simply stares ahead, not giving any outward response. The front door opens and Alex walks in, carrying a bag of sterile equipment. She rushes down the stairs, sets her supplies on the table, and ties her dark hair back. She puts gloves on and opens the packaging.
"Promise I'm safe?" She asks. Lucifer growls in response, causing her to jump.
"He's cut off of his powers. All bark, no bite." Dean answers. She steps over the holy fire and tilts Sam's head back. She threads the tube up his nose, causing Lucifer to gag.
"Swallow." She instructs, but apparently Lucifer doesn't want to cooperate. "It'll make things a lot easier for you. Swallow."
"Do it." Dean orders. Lucifer shakes his head, prompting Jody to join Alex in holding his head still as she keeps inserting the tube. It takes a solid couple of minutes, Lucifer's resistance causing issues, but eventually she gets the tube down him.
"Okay, what are we giving him?" Alex asks. Crowley approaches and cuts his arm, bleeding into a bowl.
"Seriously? Crowley's half-human. Can't you splurge for the good stuff?" Lucifer says, glaring at the demon.
"You don't get to make demands. Get out of my son." Their mother replies as Alex feeds the blood through the tube.
"Ah, Mother Mary. Nice to formally make your acquaintance. But you've got me all wrong. Sammy's happy. He's fine. He wanted this." Lucifer is lying, Dean knows that for a fact. "What do you think I'm doing to him? He's dreaming peacefully. I need him alive and well. And-" Suddenly, Lucifer gasps. Wait, no, that's Sam! Relief washes over Dean in an overwhelming wave. He sighs in satisfaction just seeing Sam's confused expression.
"Sammy?" Dean rushes forward. "Are you okay?" Sam nods, bewildered.
"Thank you." He whispers.
"Don't thank me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." Dean means it, but he's still angry at Sam. Why the hell did he let the devil in?
"Eileen, is it true?" Sam asks turning towards her and signing the best he can with his hands cuffed. She nods. "I am so sorry. Words can't even begin to describe it. We're gonna get you through this alive."
"What did I miss?" Sam asks. His vision is blurry as it returns. He curls and uncurls his fists, just to test if he can.
"The conception, for one thing. That's a problem we're gonna have to deal with at some point. Lucifer opened all the cages in the zoo, so expect an uptick in demonic activity. Your turn, what the hell man?" Dean asks and answers.
"The archangel blade didn't work. According to the guest inside my brain, only Michael can use it. I couldn't let Lucifer go off and run the country. So I did what I could to stop it. If I drink too much demon blood, I think it corrupts his grace or something which lets me stay in power. Eileen, I'm so sorry for this. This is not okay, and if you never wanna see me again I'd understand."
"I should have known it wasn't you. This is on me." Absolutely not! Sam shakes his head, refusing to let her believe that.
"No, you're not taking even a shred of accountability for this. It's not on you. It's on us. It's on me. I saw you saying you needed to talk to me, what's up?" He asks.
"Castiel says the child can't be born. I think otherwise. Sam, I can hear him. His voice, it's beautiful and full of love. He's already aware, he already knows who he is. We can't get rid of him, and we shouldn't." She speaks with passion and familiarity, and Sam can't help but empathize. He knows how it feels to be called a monster, but he doesn't have enough information to say for sure this... this child isn't one. He also needs to grapple with the fact that she would have to die for this child to exist. No, he can't allow that.
"I'm sorry, Eileen. But this child will kill you. I can't... we can't lose you." Sam is being honest, he doesn't know if he can handle this. Eileen's eyes glow gold briefly before returning to their usual brown.
"The child can't exist. Heaven and Hell will be after you, seeking your child. If you don't end the pregnancy, Heaven will have no choice but to kill you before you give birth." Cas explains
"Not an option!" Sam exclaims. "Eileen, it might be best if you move in here. We'll keep the warding up for you."
"If I'm going to die anyway, I may as well die for my child to live." Eileen answers. Dean raises a hand to speak.
"I know this is a pressing issue, but it's not gonna get resolved today. Can we turn back to the Lucifer of it all?"
"Actually, would someone mind grabbing me a change of clothes so I can light this fucking suit on fire?" Sam asks. Dean's face breaks out into a cheesy grin. Adam rushes off to Sam's room.
"It's good to have you back, Sammy. But we gotta worry about how much you're injesting." Dean says, his voice snapping into caretaker mode. "And we gotta get Lucifer out of you." Sam shakes his head at that.
"No, we can't. I'm protecting the world from him right now. If I kick him out, where's he gonna go? Right back into someone else and then the world is no better off. I'm keeping him contained." Sam insists.
"Sammy, I gotta worry about what the blood is doing to you." Dean slowly walks closer to the holy fire ring. Sam doesn't know how to make this clear to Dean. He needs his brother's support for this. Yes, Dean is right that something bad can happen if he keeps going at the rate he's been, but between turning into a demon or Lucifer ending the world? It's no question. He knows he can't tell Dean about this possibility, because Dean won't be able to listen to reason. To Dean, demonic Sam is worse than the end of the world. Demonic Sam can be killed, if it comes to that.
"It's not worse than what will happen if I don't get it. Either I drink it or Lucifer walks. You know which is the better option, Dean."
"Could we try to throw Lucifer back in the cage?" Their mom suggests. Sam's eyes widen in fear, knowing that it would mean he has to be alone with Lucifer again. He can't. He just can't do that again.
"No." Dean answers before Sam gets the chance. Sam is grateful Dean at least is on his side with that. Adam walks down the hall with a change of clothes for Sam. Everyone turns around to allow him to get dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. He holds the suit over the holy fire, setting it ablaze and quickly dropping it. "Sam, are you sure? This is a big risk, is it really what you want?" Not at all, but since when do we get a choice?
"No, but it's the only option we have. I can do this, Dean. I just need to be careful. I'm really happy everyone is on the same page now, I can go back to something resembling normal." He turns to face Alex. "Can I keep the tube? Just in case something goes wrong?" She nods. "I'm also going to keep the cuffs on so Lucifer can't fly off with me again. We can work around this, until we figure out a way to kill him." Sam assures his family. Dean's phone rings in his pocket. He answers it, staying silent as whoever is on the other end speaks.
"Garth?" Dean asks. "Where are you? ...Okay, okay I'm coming. Calm down. You're not dying. Yeah, we know about Hell." Dean meanders over to the front door. He opens it, revealing Garth just outside. Garth bursts in and rushes down the stairs. He smells... off.
"He's possessed!" Sam screams out before being pulled into the inky blackness of his mind.
Garth dives after Eileen, but she side-steps him and he goes careening to the floor. Jody splashes him with holy water as Adam climbs on a table and begins reciting an exorcism. Dean grabs hold of Garth, pinning him to the floor. He roars and kicks, though he's no match for Dean.
"You idiot!" Sam says. "Did you seriously think you could take them on alone?" Ah, not Sam.
"Sorry, Sir." Garth replies. Adam finishes the exorcism behind Dean and the demon vacates Garth's body. Dean rises and offers a hand to the werewolf.
"Thanks for that." He says, taking Dean's hand and rising to his feet. "Lotta crazy shit out there these days, huh?"
"Yeah, you're telling us." Dean agrees.
"Alex, is it?" Adam asks, she nods her head. "Mind pushing some more in there?"
"Yeah, lemme show you how to do it yourselves." She demonstrates the steps as she says them. "You fill a syringe with the stuff., twist it onto this thing here, then plunge."
Dean still doesn't feel comfortable with what they're doing, but it sure as hell feels better than letting Lucifer send demons into their home so he lets it slide. Just for the time being. They need to get Lucifer out of Sam so they can detox him once and for all. Dean hands Garth an anti-possession charm.
"Keep this on you, and spread the word. Hell is invading. We gotta be ready." Garth accepts the token, placing it in his pocket.
"Dean, Dean, Dean... you may have delayed the apocalypse, but you can't stop it this time. You can't stop me." Lucifer tuts. Suddenly, Sam gasps.
"Yes, we can." He whispers.
"Have you seen the news? Riots are breaking out everywhere, something insane is happening and I don't know what." Garth spills the beans. "I gotta get home. See ya."
"Bye, Garth." Dean walks him out. Rowena wanders over to a TV and turns it on. The rest of the crew gathers behind her.
"Uh.. guys... I'm still pinned down with holy fire!" Sam calls out. Adam dumps a glass of water on it, giving about a foot of length that Sam can walk over. He joins everyone else around the TV, playing the news. The live footage shows a city in complete disarray. Dean notes an old woman displaying insane strength, tackling a teenager to the floor. She bites her victim, drawing blood, then does the same to herself. She touches the wounds to each other, making Dean's blood run cold. Croatoan.
Notes:
I'm still gonna edit this chapter once my brain works again. Not final software. I did go back and edit a few chapters. Writing has become a tool for me to track how my head is doing, and based on this chapter it's not great.