Looking for works that were created in another FYSL Exchange? The overall masterlist is available here.
Untitled Ficlets by spinthetireslightthefires for sammy-traveling-in-a-tardis
No One Can Convince Me We Aren't Gluttons For Our Own Doom (fic) by cryptoshark for luciferious
Untitled Graphic + Ficlet by msbrokenbrightside for defilerwyrm
I've Left the World Behind (fic) by dogsnames for ironandsonic
Kotov Syndrome (fic) by monicawoe for winchinchilla
Soul Mates (fic) by sukithefangirl for monicawoe
Pearls and Pawns (fic) by quarterclever for cryptoshark
Untitled Fan Art by quickreaver for quarterclever
Can't or Won't (fic) by orangezest100 for germangirlssayja
Untitled Fan Art by aegidoll for lesbiansatan
Every Heartbeat by suchanadorer for msbrokenbrightside
Gathering Thorns in our Blindness by wehavebecomeanathema for melle-et-venenum
Untitled Fan Art by spaggles-the-spagel for I-am-a-teenage-werewolf
Born Again by fighting-false-hope for quickreaver
Untitled gifset + ficlet by luciferious for orangezest100
Only One (fic) by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural for aegidoll
Of Infinite Time and Night (fic) by ironandsonic for dylanobrienshappytrail
Coming Home (fic) by theguywhosavedtheworldonce for kototyph
The Wrestle (fic) by melle-et-venenum for wehavebecomeanathema
Room for One (fic) by songofanothersummer for theguywhosavedtheworldonce
Untitled Series of Graphics by happiestlittlegnome for angel-of-spn
The Love That Moves the Sun and the Other Stars (fic) by talesfromperdition for spaggles-the-spagel
Child of Mine (fic) by sammy-traveling-in-a-tardis for sukithefangirl
Untitled Fan Art by poor-fangarts for songofanothersummer
Men Have Made Them (fic) by kototyph for yourebossy
Down to Just One Thing (fan art/illustrated fic) by defilerwyrm for suchanadorer
Welcome to the Family (fic) by germangirlssayja for 4-horsemen
Heal Me (fic) by boykingsamuel for fighting-false-hope
Untitled Fan Art by winchinchilla for spinthetireslightthefires
2AM (graphic + ficlet) by lesbiansatan for fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
You Are The Bullet In The Chamber Of The Gun (fic) by cryptoshark for happiestlittlegnome
At this point in time, there are still a few works that are not posted. The list will be updated once they are. Unless you personally created a work and did not receive one in return, don't worry about what the list looks like.
Prompt 1: Season 5 AU. Lucifer lays an egg, and Sam’s the other parent. Plans for the apocalypse fall by the wayside, because this fledgling was never in the plan.
Ahh this was the cutest! Never ending apologies for having to take a terribad photo of the drawing... i should have a scanner by monday when I start school again. But man, this prompt was my favorite. I imagine their kid being the absolute epitome of sass backed up by the hardest baby bitchface known to man. They still havent decided on a name, but lucifer prefers to call him "shit head"♥ and he wears a shirt that says "my baby's the shit!" while their tiny terror wears a supercute onsie that also says "Im the shit". hahaha♥
Luci please, why did you have to let go of the harness??
Content warnings: None, ridiculously long sentences
Additional pairings: None
Word count: 2215
Prompter: cryptoshark
Prompts: deal with the devil, lens, pearls, (avoid high school AUs)
Summary: Same came into the pawn shop to beg for a family heirloom, but owner Luke is far more interested in Sam.
Excerpt:
“Luke.” He offers a hand along with his name. “It’s this necklace here, the pearl one?” At Sam’s nod, he unlocks the case and gently draws the necklace out. One corner of his mouth lifts slightly in what Sam tells himself is an unattractive expression. “Let’s just see what I’ve got to work with here.” Luke keeps his eyes on Sam for just a moment too long before turning his gaze away for what he realizes may be the first time.
For the FuckYeahSam/Lucifer Holiday Hellatus Fanwork Exchange
Recipient: monicawoe
Prompt: As much as Sam didn’t want to admit it, Lucifer was right. They were two halves made whole.
Warnings: None
[Hope you like it! I might have made it a tad too fluffy damnmyloveforit but I hope it still turned out as you might have wanted for the prompt c:]
At first, it was a slight annoyance. Sam thought he could learn to live with it. Time and time again though, the feeling grew stronger. It started as a simple, dull ache in his chest, like some sort of pain one got with overworking their muscles, just a little bit of a deeper feeling. He had lived with worse before, so Sam simply decided that it wasn’t anything to worry about.
But it grew worse. Soon the simple, little ache grew into a pain. A real pain, in both the metaphorical and literal sense. From a soreness it became a stabbing jolt of electrical sensation that felt as if it was a knife moving through his chest with every second. It was almost unbearable. He didn’t know why it started happening, or the reasons behind the strange pain.
But he did know what alleviated it.
He could have been in near agony with the pain, about ready to tip over the chair and throw up from the mere severity of it, but then the front door to the motel would open, and there he would see him.
Lucifer.
When he felt the fallen angel’s presence, the pain suddenly vanished. It wasn’t even there anymore. It was as if the ache deep in his chest had never even existed, and even after months of dealing with it, Sam would still grab at his chest, as if to check that something hasn't gone completely wrong with him. But yet it was still normal, all flesh and blood and bone, with the only indication of Sam’s curiousness being that of an odd look from Lucifer. Then the angel would comment somewhere on how hopeless Sam and Dean would be on their own, and then go on to explain how obvious the truth of the ongoing case was. Sometimes Lucifer was right, and Sam would merely roll his eyes and call the other an idiotic smartass. But sometimes Lucifer turned out to be...not so right, and then he’d wind up shrugging his shoulders and brushing it off as if it was nothing. No big deal.
In more ways than one, pain included, Lucifer had made himself deeply set within the Winchester’s daily lives. He was like another Castiel, only he didn’t come and go as often. Not at all as often. In fact, one could say he and Sam were almost connected at the hip. Dean never commented on the fact, however, mostly because he must have understood the same on the leveled connection he shared with Cas. It was something ethreal, something one simply couldn’t explain. The bond between a mortal and immortal, a human and angel. It was just something that was felt, not explained.
Sam couldn’t say that he was in love with Lucifer. But at the same moment, he couldn’t really say that he hated the angel. After everything had been said and done with the end of the world, the Leviathans, everything, he and the angel had been connected on a level that he knew he could never share with another person. He understood how Lucifer felt, how he thought, and sometimes, how Lucifer was seemingly more human-like than he let on.
And Lucifer, in turn, must have felt the same. While he still was a horrible asshole all the time, Sam couldn’t deny the moments that he felt a certain sense of tenderness from the other. A feeling of simple affection that went beyond rivals, friends, or even lovers. It was a deep knowledge of eachother that went far beyond what Sam’s simple mind could understand. Sam was just Sam, and Lucifer was just Lucifer.
-----
“Might wanna get a check on that, Sammy.” Sam’s mind was brought from thought, his hazel eyes peering over the laptop over where he knew the angel was standing. Him in his rumbled shirt, stolen jacket, and wide smirk on his lips.
Sam pulled a brow up in question. “What are you talking about?” He asked.
“Don’t play dumb, moose. You keep patting at your chest like a blushin’ virgin.” Sam was quickly pulled to look down at his chest, and he realized that yes, his fingers were pushing at the center. The man quickly pulled them down to sit on his lap, not even realizing that the ache was dulled down into near-nothingness.
“Just...it’s nothing.” Sam tried to move his attention back to the screen of his laptop, but it was obvious the attention whore-of-an-angel wouldn’t allow it. He stepped to the old motel table and pushed the laptop closed.
“Sammy. I was in your head for a crap number of years.” For a moment, the tone almost sounded...concerned. But Sam didn’t concern himself with that odd little notice, and instead looked up at the other’s eyes. “...you know gluing yourself to me isn’t going to be a good fix on that.”
“Don’t know what in the world you’re talking about.” There wasn’t a chance in hell (excuse the pun), that Lucifer would have any idea the pain going on in Sam’s chest. It must have been something chronic, something he got from years of being a self-hating hunter, letting himself get tossed into walls and performing demonic exorcisms.
“Come on Sammy, you’re not an idiot. Well, most of the time-” The smirk momentarily returns on Lucifer’s lips. “What do you think happens when you put two beings together for a long time, then rip them apart?”
Sam didn’t know what Lucifer was referring to. Because if he did, it would have to mean something deeper. With a toss of his head, the man concentrated instead on getting the hair out of his eyes.
“Considering your lack of answer, moose, I’ll say that I’m right. I’m normally right anyways.”
There was a shifting of shape, a sensation of movement, but Sam’s eyes were forced into his lap.
And before he has a moment to comprehend it, there are lips on his. They are soft and warm, undeniably spicy, in their own right, and it’s a single and indisputable name that erupts within Sam’s mind of it. Lucifer. The sensation of connection, pure and raw, floods back into Sam’s mind. Thoughts and feelings that weren’t his mixes beautifully, and in that moment of time he feels that there isn’t a pain in his body to be felt.
Even when Lucifer pulls away, the feeling still lingers. It sits in his stomach like a rock, pleasant and perfect. In a way, he almost feels drugged, but perfectly coherent at the same time.
Sam looked at Lucifer with a combination of shock and awe, expecting the angel to give him some sort of answer.
But at first, the blonde merely smiled at him. The connection is still there, always there, forever there, just more obvious. He feels a blossom of warmth that is both his and not, and when Sam stares into the glorious depths of the devil’s eyes, he realizes the thing he knew, yet didn’t know at the same time.
“Soul mates. Interesting thing my father made. Two parts makin’ one, you know? Cheesy, I mean, it is, but uh...” The devil trails on, and Sam puts it all together in the way that Lucifer seemingly doesn’t feel like doing.
But then again, the Winchester always knew about it. The ethereal, unspeakable bond. The one that Dean too felt with Cas. Of course, Sam had been denying most of it since Lucifer became an integral part of his daily life. Because denying that the bond was there, was also denying something else.
That he loved Lucifer.
But the sense of well-being, of perfection, affection, warmth and beauty was something Sam didn’t even begin to fathom in it’s entirety. And all of it opened wide and raw just from a simple kiss. He had only thought it true since Lucifer had been in his mind for so long. Something of a side-effect. Because of years of torture and pain.
The sensations lingering in his body were anything but.
Sam was silent for a while. He slowly rose his hand and let it rest over his chest. The dull ache started to appear again. But he looked into Lucifer’s eyes and his breath stopped, just for a moment.
Sensations.
“I love you,” He blurted, half-filtered in his mind. Even after he realized that the words had come out of his lips, he repeated it again. “I love you Lucifer.”
Lucifer quirked a smile, one side of his mouth pulling up in a way that showed he was amused. Because he /was/ amused. Sam just knew it. Because he /knew/ Lucifer. Knew him in a way that nobody else ever would. And when Sam started to think about it, he found that he liked the thought. Knowing the other in such a deep, intimate way. Knowing he could count on Lucifer’s affection, trust and care.
Soul mates. He never much believed in the idea. Well, not before.
“Took you a year, two months, three days and uh, an hour.” Lucifer’s fingers counted off, as if he was actually thinking it in his head, even though he was an angel and such mere math calculations were far below him. But it made Sam tilt his head in slight question.
“Since...when?” He rubbed lightly at his chest. The ache was gone. In fact, all the ache was gone. It wasn’t dulled anymore. Because it was smothered by the lingering sensations of the angel, the connection they shared, now allowed to move and smother in a way that Sam had denied before. It was hot, perfect, and wonderful.
The question prompted an almost fiendish smile from the devil. He moved closer to Sam, so his lips hovered just a few millimeters away from the Winchester’s own.
Done for ironandsonic for the FYSL exchange. I hope your holiday was good and that your new year will be even better.
Prompt 2: It's so much easier to look away.
Summary: He found a place inside his mind and slammed the door.
Him and his brother have been traveling and hunting together for what seems like ages, cleaning up the mess left after the opening of the Devil’s Gate, and Dean’s deal approaching with every tick of the clock. They’ve been following reports of strange lights outside of a house one night in Illinois when they meet him. Little Claire Novak says that sometimes daddy isn't daddy, and that when he is his head hurts. They manage to wrangle the man alone for an 'interview' but when Sam starts off with the exorcism he just looks at them curiously, then he tilts his head slightly, like he's listening to someone who isn’t there.
"Oh, you think-" the man laughs briefly, "it’s not a demon in here." He taps his left temple, “But he would like to talk to you.” Sam and Dean really don’t know how to respond to that.
“Okay,” says Dean, “Let’s hear it.” It’s not like they aren’t prepared for whatever this thing can cook up.
There’s no wind or fanfare or eyes changing to black, or any other color. Just closes his eyes and slowly opens them again.
“Ah” and the man’s voice is rougher now, deeper, “Sam and Dean Winchester. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Expecting us?” asks Sam, because someone has to. He keeps his hand on his gun, not sure if this is an actual different entity or if they just stumbled onto someone with multiple personality disorder.
“Yes,” says the man as he stands up and there’s the dramatics the things they hunt are so fond of. In this case, the dramatics entail flickers of shadows on the back wall in the shape of wings. “My name is Castiel. I am here to discuss Dean's deal.”
When a demon dies, any deal they are responsible for becomes void. Those are the rules, Castiel explains, which they already knew. What they don’t know is was that the demon holding Dean’s deal is named Lilith. She is powerful, too powerful for the Winchesters to take on by themselves. A combination of a powerful demon emerging from the depths of Hell and John Winchester managing to hold out against the demons’ torture for so long has perked Heaven’s interest and sympathy. The angels have agreed to help dean find a way out of it and have sent Castiel as their agent on Earth for this task.
Dean, of course, isn't buying any of it. “Angel my fucking ass,” he mutters, cleaning his gun and snapping the case back a bit harder than necessary. They’re back at the hotel, after a few hours of Dean not believing that Castiel was what he claimed to be and then him proving it by going through every ward and test the boys could think up on the spot. Dead still didn’t believe him but it was all they could do at the moment, so a truce had been called until they could make a decision.
“Then what is he, Dean? Bobby couldn’t figure it out, and neither could I.” Castiel pasted every test against evil they could think up, so Sam has no reason to doubt he’s an angel. He’s always had faith, and an angel coming down from up on high to save his brother isn’t expected, but Sam can’t help but be hopeful that a lifetime of service against evil is finally paying off for the Winchesters. But even if it turns out Castiel was something else, even if he was a demon, so long as he helps get Dean out of his deal, Sam really doesn’t care.
-
The people who know who Lucifer’s vessel used to be assume a lot about why Sam said yes. They assume he hated humanity, that he was never human to begin with, that he was spiteful of what had been done to him and his loves ones, and that he’d figured this was the closest to vengeance he was ever going to get. They talk about it sometimes, but they learn quick not to talk about it in front Bobby or Castiel, and they learn real quick not to talk about it in front of Dean.
Chuck knows why Sam said yes. Intimately. He knows every slow, painful, lonely inch of Sam’s descent into his own personal hell. He’s still writing the books on scraps of anything he can get his hands on, if only to shut up his own head and stop the throbbing. Though why heaven abandons them but still speaks through a prophet is anybody’s guess. Maybe prophecies are on automatic, and run with or without divine intervention. Nobody talks about it. Nobody asks to read it or what their futures are. They all know at this point that they’re living on borrowed time, either in their heads or in their bones. But fighting to live is like breathing to the survivors of the Croatoan virus now. It’s a reflex, something you do on automatic and that your body doesn’t take kindly to when you try to stop of your own volition. Regardless how they feel about it.
-
He meets Nick on their next pit stop to Bobby’s place. He has a cast running up his leg and is walking around with the help of crutches. “Busted his leg and hip on a hunt and needed somewhere to stay for a while.” Bobby tells Sam in a low voice over some lore their pouring over, looking for any clue that could tell them where to find Lilith and what she may be planning. “Won’t be hunting again, least not out in the field, letting him stay here till he can afford his own place.”
“When you say 'out in the field' what’d mean by that Bobby?” Sam asks, his voice slurring from lack of sleep.
Bobby snorts. “Nobody really leaves this life son, you know that.” and while his tone is gruff his eyes are sympathetic. “Man’s got a head for lore that I haven’t seen from, well, anybody really. Could probably give you and me a run for our money. Think he was some sort of college professor before he started hunting.” Sam’s head perks up at that.
“Really? Do you think he’d be willing to help?” and Bobby sighs.
“I don’t know Sam. ‘I made a deal with a demon and I’m trying to get out of it’ isn’t something other hunters are likely to take well.”
“Well we don’t have to tell him, ' says Sam 'just tell him a big demon got out when the Devil’s Gate opened and we have to deal with it.” Bobby shrugs.
“Fair enough. You can give a shot. Man’s always been... odd though, so don’t go expecting too much okay?” Sam nods and they go back to reading dusty texts in the low light. Lack of sleep and his attention so absorbed with Dean’s deal he doesn’t think to ask Bobby why he’d make an offer like that in the first place. And by the time he does, Nick’s settled into a place in Sam’s life and asking seems rude to him, for some reason. But it’s long past, and Sam knows the man’s not a threat, so what does it matter?
“Sure.”
Sam blinks. “Really? Just like that?”
Nick smirks and flips off the TV. “I was getting sick of lying about anyway.”
Bobby’s place becomes their pit stop at some point. They still take hunts, because Dean would go stir crazy and do god knows what if they didn’t, and there are still demons on the loose, people to save, etc. Besides, there’s always the chance that they might trip over some clue on pure luck, or one of the demons might know something. Castiel checks in with some information about a hunt or Dean’s deal every now and then, helps them out of a few really tough spots. In return, Dean tries to educate Castiel, or Cas, as they’ve been calling him recently, on pop culture and humanity in general. It hasn’t been going all that well, but they both seem to be enjoying it, even if they won’t admit it. It’s during this time that Sam learns about Nick and what Bobby meant when he said the man was odd.
The man doesn’t like humanity. At all. As in, Sam is pretty sure the things they’ve hunted and who eat people have a more positive view on it that Nick does.
He and Nick argue about it over the books, over meals, over beer. Problem is Nick’s arguments are all, technically at least, sound. There isn’t a flaw in them other than it’s somewhat hypocritical to want all your own species to die. Sam points this out one night when they’re taking a forced break from reading and are drinking beer out on the front porch. Nick taps at his temple.
“Light telekinetic,” he says, “nothing special, certainly was never capable of a lot but well,” and smiles, though it’s more of a grimace really, “it was enough to freak out my father, give me a different viewpoint from his, and that was enough to get me kicked out.” Sam knows what it’s like to have a father who just doesn’t, or maybe can’t, understand. He also knows how people with Nick’s, Nick and Sam’s if he’s willing to be completely honest, abilities are treated, especially by other hunters. He learns that Nick was raised in an church based orphanage after that, with dozens of other kids he calls his brothers and sisters, but that when his abilities came to light, their makeshift family spilt in two. Sam learns that his wife and child were killed, and that when Nick investigated on his own he found out the man who committed the crime was possessed. He caught him and preformed the exorcism but as it turned out the man was responsible, and killed an innocent woman and child without any prompting at all long before the demon found him. Every hunter was usually someone normal once, before chance took away something they held dear. Sam remembers the brief flicker of fear in Dean’s eyes when he found out that Sam’s powers weren’t just prophetic dreams, remembers Azazel whispering in his ear 'you’re a very special child Sammy, my favorite.', and he remembers how quickly things escalated at Cold Creek. There are a lot of people out there who are more than willing to see both Nick and Sam as not human. Sam still argues after that his corner, but neither side gets as vitriolic as they did before.
“Well if you don’t like humans than we you hanging out with us?” Sam jokes one day.
“I said I didn’t like humanity, not all humans. Every species, no matter how detestable, is bound to have a redeeming member or two.” And maybe it’s meant to be a joke, but Nick’s looking right at him with eyes too intense for what should be casual banter. Sam turns back to lore, tries not to blush, and pretends he does know what that look in Nick’s eyes means.
-
The reason why Sam says yes basically boils down to exhaustion. He’s tired of everything. But he’d be lying if he said that part of the pleasure of finally giving and not struggling against fate anymore was giving into Lucifer.
-
The finally get her in Detroit. A combination of blood from Ruby, which he is never going to do again and he is never telling Dean about, desperation, and rage at this thing for trying to take his brother give him enough strength to hold her with his mind just long enough for Dean to take Ruby’s knife and slam it into her back. She falls onto the alter she’d been using. From what they’ve gathered from Castiel and their own sources, she had been doing some sort of ritual to open hell wide and let everything trapped down there come to earth. She slumped over, mouth agape, unbelieving even as the lights of her and the poor girl who was her host go out.
They stand there in disbelief by themselves, before Bobby and Nick come in from where they been holding off the helping to hold off the guards with sawed offs and explosives. Bobby urges them gently out and Nick limps over and takes Sam by the wrist to drag him out. Castiel provides enough of a distraction for the remaining demons to make their escape. It isn’t until they’re all packed into their cars, Nick and Bobby in his truck and the brothers in the impala and on the highway back to Sioux Falls that it hits them.
“We did it.” says Dean, barely heard over the roar of the engine and for once, he doesn’t have music playing. “I’m not...” he swallows, “I’m not going to hell.” he turns and gives Sam a grin that’s bright and joyous and looks almost painful. “Good work little brother, knew you could do it.” And what can Sam say to that?
“Yeah well,” his voice hoarse from emotion and all the screaming he’d been doing during the fight, “you do something that stupid again and I’m only gonna save you so I can kick your ass myself.” Dean laughs and it’s too loud in the silence of the car and the joke isn’t nearly that funny but it’s like a dam has been broken and Sam can’t help but join in.
When they get back to Bobby’s place, everyone is exhausted. Bobby offers a few pats on both their shoulders and a ‘Good work boys, glad it worked out’ before moving slowly up the creaky stairs to his bed. Sam and Dean watch some cheesy late night show that Dean loves for a while before Dean turns around to squeeze Sam’s shoulder almost hard enough to bruise and pauses, before he says “Well, night Sammy.” That’s okay, Sam knows what he means. He smiles and says goodnight back, watches Dean’s back as he too heads up the stairs.
Sam doesn’t turn off the TV. He doesn’t head upstairs. Doesn’t close his eyes or get a blanket. He’s afraid to go to sleep. Afraid that he’ll go to sleep and wake up and have failed and Dean will be dead. Afraid to have nightmares because they may have succeeded but it was so fucking close, to fucking close, and he’d seen Dean’s face when the hellhounds had come.
He rubs his face with one hand and gets up to grab coffee from the kitchen to fuel him for an all-nighter. He puts a hand on the handle and someone’s grabbing his wrist and he whirls around and it’s Nick. Sam breaths out and tries to steady himself, loosen his muscles that had been tensed for a fight. “Dude you scared the crap outta me, didn’t even hear you.” Nicks mouth tugs up at the corner at that, just a bit, before it goes flat again. Sam can’t tell what he’s thinking.
Nicks still holding his wrist. Sam doesn’t try and pull away, put some space between them.
“Sam.” he says, and his other comes up and cups his jaw, fingers slotting in perfectly behind his ear, rubbing where it comes into contact with Sam’s hair.
They’ve been dancing around this thing for what seems like ages even though it’s only been a few months. Something about Nick still sets off the hairs on the back of his neck, some little detail about him keeps niggling in the back of his mind, flashing warning signs without providing any definite reason as to why Sam should be afraid of this man. It should put him off. But all the same he’s also drawn to Nick in a way that feels perfectly natural, like he fits into some slot Sam hadn’t even been aware he had. His instincts are this constant push pull around nick and its aggravating and frustrating and exhausting, debating with him and snapping at him and wanting him all the same. But it’s easier to give in than it is to fight. And Sam is so very, very tired all the sudden. Nick pulls him close, press their foreheads together and Sam thinks that maybe he’s going to kiss him but he doesn’t, just looks at Sam with those sad, understanding eyes. For a moment, they just breathe in each other air.
“Bed?”
“Please.”
They don’t have sex that night. There’s kissing, some heavy petting, but Sam and Nick are both too tired to get beyond that. It’s comfort enough just to have someone beside him then, someone that loves him and that Sam is starting to think, maybe, he can love in return. He goes to sleep with Nick spooning him, a weird sensation for someone as big as Sam, with an arm over his waist and a hand rubbing in his hair. They talk quietly, about everything and nothing, some of the old arguments about morality they’ve been over before and stupid pranks Sam and Dean have pulled on each other. Nick tells stories about the mischief him and the many others at the orphanage got into. Sam’s eyes get heavy and the bed is warm.
He isn’t scared to sleep by the time he closed his eyes, soothed by the thumb rubbing his hip and the voice in his ear.
-
Dean doesn’t even bother to raise the colt, and Lucifer just looks at him with his brother’s eyes, waiting and sympathetic. He knows he’s not coming away from this, knows it’s a suicide mission he’s sent his crew on. But he had to know, had to see it with his own eyes, had to see his brother again. He had to.
“Why?” he asks and Lucifer frowns a bit, looks confused. Dean draws in a breath, trying to prepare himself for an answer he knows that no matter what it is he won’t be able to handle. “Why’d he say yes?”
“Ah,” says Lucifer, and he gives a large, exaggerated shrug of Sam shoulders, ruining the lines of his suit. “You weren’t there, and I was. He wanted companionship and comfort and I was there for him. We were made for one another Dean.” He’s all Sam’s puppy eyes and the line of his mouth is sympathetic and dean hates it, hates so fucking much cause that the face Sam would use on distraught families and grieving friends when they were working a case and its fake and he knows it is and Lucifer’s knows he knows and yet he still puts it on and Jesus dean hates him so fucking much for it. He grinds his teeth and raises the Colt to take aim, and Lucifer doesn’t do a damn thing. “And even if you were. He would’ve come to me eventually. Taken more time to do so, perhaps, but in the end he would’ve have come to me.” He starts walking toward him, slowly, deliberately, the fucking drama queen, and Dean fires and it does absolutely fuck all. He fires off the rest of the bullets in rapid succession as Lucifer’s comes toward him, still taking his time and all it does is leave scorch marks in his fugly ass white suit.
Lucifer stops right in front of him and gently, pushes the colt to the side until his arm is at his side again. It’s more gently than he should and Dean would feel so much better about this entire thing if the devil would just be a little bit of a condescending ass, if he would be the slightest bit angry at him for his actions, or smug about how the easy it was to push the apocalypse toward the end he wanted, It’d be as silly as being proud the sun rose every day. Dean’s chest is heaving out of him like he just ran five miles with Croats on his tail. Lucifer’s hand holds his wrist, gentle and firm, keeping him from raising the gun again, pointless as that would be at this point. His other comes around with the same care, gripping the side of his jaw and forcing him to look at Satan in his brother’s eyes.
“He was always going to come for me Dean.” he says, “God made him for me. He’s your brother yes, but he’s my vessel and other half. We understand each other.” and it sounds like he’s imploring Dean, trying to make him to understand the point he’s trying to make. “You are his family, but I’m a part of him, and he’s a part of me, and surely you wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny your brother his true self, would you?”
‘You’re not,’ Dean wants to say but the words stick in his throat were Lucifer’s (Sam’s) fingers touch it, ‘you’renotyou’renot Sammy’s good and he tried to save everything, he tried to save monsters for fucks sake, you’re nothing like him and not a part of him you’re not my brother.’ But Dean doesn’t say any of that, can’t, but Lucifer hears him anyway and silence comes over the clearing. The devil searches his eyes for a bit, then sighs and takes a firmer grip around his throat and throws him to the ground.
“Even if you refuse to understand, I am grateful to you. You raised him and took care of him and were good to him.” and his mouth twists a bit, “You were certainly better than Michael, anyway.” Dean feels pressure on his neck and hears the shuffling of leaves and the bullets of whatever is left of his team. “Rest in peace, Dean Winchester” and before it goes dark, Dean’s last thoughts are a confused tangle of ‘he sounds like he means it’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Sam.’
-
He wakes up the morning to with a jolt to a large crack that emanated from somewhere Sam can’t place. “What was that?” he says holding himself up off the bed and ready to throw off the sheets. Nick grunts.
“Someone probably just broke something downstairs. Come back to me.”
Sam thinks about getting up briefly but fuck it, he’s earned a lazy Sunday hell he’s earned a thousand lazy Sundays. So he curls back into nicks arms and allows himself to be lulled to sleep.
-
'I want to give you the world Sam, I want to give you everything.' But part of what makes Sam Winchester so special and his soul so bright is that this provides exactly zero incentive for him to join Lucifer’s cause. With his powers and training, he could’ve easily taken the reins of hells armies, even before Lilith showed up, could’ve gotten vengeance against all those that wronged him and killed anything he thought so much as looked at him and the people he cared about sideways.
He could’ve ruled earth and hell and even heaven, eventually, would have fallen. After all, who would be left to stop him?
Sam doesn’t want any of that. But while Sam may not want what would be terribly tempting to others, he is only human. Sam Winchester does want. Painfully, in fact. Just not the world.
Lucifer wants his vessel happy, wants to thank him and shower him with gratitude for freeing him and understanding him. When he curls up around Sam’s soul, he wants to feel the warmth of love and contentment. The world will not make Sam happy though, so Lucifer gets him something else.
-
Lilith is dead, and the world keeps on as if she never was. Sam feels vindictive pleasure at her being dismissed so thoroughly. He feels confident and proud and tired. Sam’s been spending more time with Nick, and Dean gives him shit for it but his complaints don’t get serious so Sam knows his brother’s okay with it. Dean manages to work on cars at Bobby’s junk yard for three whole days before he not so subtly drops a newspaper in front of Sam onto the kitchen table. He makes himself a second cup of coffee, going about more slowly than even Bobby’s ancient coffee maker should warrant. The page it’s turned to talks about the random deaths of a couple and some livestock in a small town, about strange symbols found and how townsfolk are worried some sort of cult is popping up. Sam sighs and says “Alright alright we’ll go.” and Dean’s grin lights up. It’s not like they won’t be coming back seeing how Sam has someone to come back to now and that thought alone makes him happier. Besides, Sam’s willing to indulge his brother if he wants to get out there again so soon; after all he was supposed to be dead today.
Prompt 1: Without any warning Lucifer takes Sam on a vacation.
Sam literally wakes up in Rome.
Then, he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep, because there's only one thing out there with the juice and the balls to pull this shit, and he's not really in any danger.
"Saaaaaaaam," he hears from behind him. "Wake uuuup."
"No," he grumbles. "Jet lag."
"I am not a jet." Lucifer sounds offended by the mere suggestion that the teleportation was anything short of perfect. "I booked us a tour of Vatican City. It starts in an hour."
Sam smiles. "Then I have half an hour to sleep." He turns over, facing Lucifer, who is standing at the side of the bed, looking petulant as ever. "Come back to bed, hmm?"
And Lucifer does.
They wind up missing the tour.
----
Prompt 2: Secrets
In the Cage, there are no secrets. They're both stripped bare and achingly lonely as they fall. They have to make their own landing, and Lucifer does, dragging Sam close.
Sam feels it, then -- the aching loneliness of millennia spent isolated in the Cage -- feels it in the way Lucifer is actively clinging to him, Grace digging deep into him simply because he is there. Sam looks into the abyss looking into them, and finds something small and lonely and secret, under all the omnicidal bluster that Lucifer had used to buffet around the demons, to face down even Michael in the cemetery.
Lucifer clings like a chill deep in the bones, and Sam clings back, because, well, it takes one secret-keeper to know another, doesn't it?
