This is a work of fanfiction. I own only Chrys Summers, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)
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"I… I learned it from Ruby."

Sam Winchester didn't know what to say. He had started the apocalypse. He had betrayed his brother, the most important person who had ever been in his life, and he had started the apocalypse. There weren't words.

Dean stepped forward to Sam. "Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?"

Sam shook his head, relieved to have good news to report. "It's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever… Put me on that plane cleaned me right up."

Dean huffed. "Supernatural methadone."

"Yeah, I guess." He paused. He needed to say something. He wanted to clear the air, if there would ever be a way to do that. "Dean-"

Dean turned away. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

"Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? 'I'm sorry?' 'I screwed up?' Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right-"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door of the motel room they were in. Sam looked at Dean, who was picking up his gun and pointed to the door.

Sam pulled his gun from his waistband and moved to answer the door.

The woman standing there was the most beautiful person Sam had ever laid eyes on. Raven, wavy hair was spilling over her shoulder. She was wearing a tight tank top, which left a wide strip of her midriff bare. A long, swirling skirt was slung low on her hips. Striking blue eyes stared at him, and he felt like she was gazing into his soul. He felt himself wanting to stand straighter, to run a hand through his hair to make sure he looked presentable.

She looked pissed.

"Sam Winchester?" Her voice was low, melodic, and a little hypnotizing.

Dean, apparently, was not affected. "Who's asking?" he snapped.

She looked around Sam to meet Dean's eyes. "So that makes you Dean."

Dean's face was stony as he answered. "Who's. Asking?" he bit out again.

She rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off of her shoulder. She met Sam's eyes. "Please. You're tall, you're gorgeous, there's two of you, and you're treating me like a suspect. You're the Winchesters."

Sam put his gun back into his waistband, ignoring Dean's irritated hiss. "You have me at a disadvantage. What's your name?"

She smiled. "Chrys Summers," she said sweetly, before she reared back and hit him.

Pain exploded in Sam's face, and he swung around, clutching his cheek. "What the hell?"

She smiled. "I have a feeling that you have either very recently done, or will very soon do, something to deserve that."

Dean snarled and advanced. Sam watched as she ignored Dean to pull the silver knife out of Sam's belt. There should have been a fight instinct rising in him, but Sam felt weirdly calm, like he knew she wouldn't hurt him. What is going on?

His serenity was rewarded when she ran the knife along her own arm, proving that she wasn't a shifter. She then pulled a water bottle with a rosary in it from the bag slung across her shoulder. She took a swig, amused blue eyes meeting his as she proved she wasn't a demon. She screwed the cap back on and smiled at Dean. "Satisfied, Winchester?"

"Who the hell are you?" Dean growled out.

Sam found himself becoming irritated at his brother's abrasiveness. "Dean-"

"Well, I'm what you guys have been waiting for," she said bitterly, looking between the two of them. "Right?"

Sam frowned and stepped forward. "What are you talking about?"

She stepped toward him, gazing up at him. But not as much as he was used to. She was tall, six feet tall at least. She studied him intensely, letting the silence draw out. "Oh, my God," she whispered, stepping away from him. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "You don't know."

Dean came forward and grabbed her arm. "Start making sense, or I start swinging," he snarled.

Sam frowned again. "Dean."

She spun and punched Dean in the stomach, hard. He doubled over, gasping for breath. "Hands off, Winchester," she snapped.

Chrys turned back to Sam, her face hardening. "So, this is going to be a fabulous conversation." She let out a huff, then looked at him. "Well, like a Band-Aid, right? Sam Winchester, you are the one true vessel of Lucifer! Congratulations!" She spread her arms wide and bent at the waist. "You win a shitty soulmate who already hates you and is intensely bitter, and probably a fate worse than death."

Silence reigned for a moment. "What?" Sam asked, still reeling.

Sense came back. "What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, getting angry. "Who the hell are you? What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean had gotten his breath back and grabbed her arm, yanking her back. "You had best start talking, bitch, and that was your last damn cheap shot."

She yelped a little when he grabbed her other arm, holding them behind her. "Let go of me! God dammit, how is it my fault you're both too stupid to know what's going on?" Realizing that she couldn't get away from Dean, she stopped her struggles and looked at Sam. "I'm the one who should be irritated, I have to shack up with an idiot for eternity!"

Sam took a deep breath. "Look, just tell me what you're talking about, please."

"Tell your brother to let me go."

"Not a chance, bitch." Dean snarled, yanking her arms back harder.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Okay, look. You are Lucifer's vessel. The only vessel that can hold him."

Sam frowned. "That can't be true. He… He, uh, was already released. Why hasn't he come after me?"

She chuckled darkly. Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "Because are you going to say yes right now?"

"He needs permission?" Dean asked, still growling.

"He's an angel, dumbass. Like, the worst angel, of course, but he's still an angel, and he needs your permission to possess you. He wants to butter you up first, he knows he'll have to convince you to say yes."

Sam frowned. "Then what are you here for?"

"Like I said, I'm your soulmate."

Dean shook her a little. "What does that mean, bitch?"

"Okay, I've told you my name, start using it, dick. And how many meanings can the word 'soulmate' possibly have?"

"Chrys," Sam interrupted Dean's response. "Tell me why you're here."

She sighed. "I am Lucifer's intended. His soulmate, or I would be, if he had a soul. But, since he doesn't, and he wanted me to be bound to him, he somehow got me bound… To you."

Sam blinked. "That doesn't make any sense. Why does Lucifer need a mate?"

She closed her eyes, an unidentifiable emotion on her face. "So I can bear his children, Sam. Lucifer wants kids. That's why I'm here."

"Okay, even if what you're saying is true, why the hell would you come here? To me? You don't seem like you want this, so why wouldn't you be halfway across the world?"

She didn't open her eyes, and Sam saw her shoulders droop a little. "I can't. It's painful to be away from you." Her eyes opened, and he returned her hard stare with one of his own. "Like, I mean, literally, physically painful to be away from you. When Lucifer was set free, it suddenly felt like my stomach was on fire. I could barely breathe, and I felt an uncontrollable urge to come here. So I packed a bag and hit the road. It wasn't until I was halfway here that I realized who I was running to." A bitter smile crossed her face. "My beloved husband. Ugh."

Sam frowned and ignored her snark. "What about your family? Friends? Job?"

She shook her head. "Nada. My parents are dead, I don't have friends, and I'm a part-time bartender. I just walked away."

"Why the hell would we believe you?" Dean asked, but there was less anger in his voice.

She shrugged. "Well, you could stick me in the trunk and start driving away from Sammy, here. I'd probably be dead in an hour." She looked thoughtful. "That would probably solve all of our problems. Let's do that."

Sam frowned. "It's Sam."

"Excuse me?"

"Dean's the only one who calls me Sammy. It's Sam."

She laughed, and the bitterness in the sound pinged at Sam's heart. "Well, go ahead excuse the hell out of me, but I'm essentially being forced into prostitution here, so I'll call you whatever the fuck I want, Sammy."

Dean picked her up by her arms and carried her to the door. "All right, Chrys, you're done talking. He dropped her and pushed her to the door. "Leave."

Sam watched hurt, then fear flash through her eyes before they became unreadable again. "Fine," she snapped. "I'll go. When Lucifer is pissed, let him know that I tried." She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, glaring at them. "And I'll be sure to let people know that the Winchesters are not the heroes everyone claims they are."

The door slammed behind her.

Chrys had never been more upset. Nothing had prepared her for stupid fucking Sam Winchester completely rejecting her. She walked away from the motel, wrapping her arms around her middle to ward off the chill.

She didn't know when she'd found out that she was meant to be with Sam, it was just knowledge she'd always carried on her heart. She had waited for that bastard. She had known that he was solitary, so she'd made herself the same way, so she could go to him when it was time. She didn't have any fucking friends, for God's sake, and he had the nerve to tell her to leave.

She didn't want to be Lucifer's mate. But when she'd started talking to people about how to break the bond, they had told her about Sam. They told her he was smart, and kind, and handsome to boot. She had held out hope in a tiny part of her heart that, despite the fact that she had been unable to break the curse that was her life, Sam would help her find a way to be free.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she angrily dashed them away. She was glad she hadn't told them about her feelings about Sam. She didn't them to keep her around out of pity, the fucks.

Chrys tried hard to ignore the pain that started to build slowly as she walked. She was too mad to she top, and too proud to beg them to keep her. She would rather be in pain.

Although, this was the worst it has ever been. Breathing began to be difficult, and she fought to keep her vision from blurring. It had been about twenty minutes, she was at least a mile away, or so she thought. She hadn't been keeping a close eye on the time.

It felt like there was actually fire in her belly, and her head was in a vise of pain. Her knees buckled, and she fought the urge to write in agony.

I will not go back to them, I will not go back to them, she thought stubbornly, forcing herself to crawl forward. She knew she had a high pain tolerance, and had always assumed that good ol' Lucifer had made her tough enough to survive a life with the Winchesters.

Not that it will do any good now, she thought as she struggled against the darkness trying to envelop her.

Betrayal, anger, and hurt like she had never known swept through her, along with the physical agony she was in.

Fucking Sam Winchester, she snarled internally as she finally passed out.

"-saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown."

"Change the station." Dean snapped.

Guilt was killing Sam. Chrys had left his mind, and the uncontrollable guilt was raging through him again. He obeyed silently.

"-Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area-"

Sam hit the button again.

"-announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear-"

Again.

"-a series of tremors-"

Again.

"-swine flu-"

Sam frowned and turned the radio off. Since reigned for a moment, then, "Dean, look-"

"Don't say anything." Dean paused, then said, "It's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"All right, well, first things first. How did we end up on Soul Plane?"

Sam shrugged. "Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way?"

"Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas."

They drove around a curve, and Sam grabbed Dean's arm. "Dean."

There was a prone figure on the road wearing a familiar skirt laying on the side of the road.

Dean shrugged coldly. "Bitch got herself killed. Sucks to be her."

Sam frowned at his older brother. "Dude, pull over."

"Dammit, Sam, she's crazy. We can't take on some psycho right now. We've got too much shit going on."

Sam grabbed his door handle. "Dean, pull the fucking car over."

Dean growled as he pulled over, stopping the car before they ran Chrys over. Sam got out and walked around, getting to his knees next to her.

He turned her gently onto her back. He placed a hand on her face. "Chrys? Chrys, are you okay?"

Her eyes fluttered. "Hmmm?"

"Chrys, can you walk?"

Her brow was furrowed. "Hurts still."

Sam frowned. "What hurts?"

She was coming to. Her eyes focused on them, and he saw real fear in them. "Everything. It must be because I left."

Sam frowned. "Left me?"

It seemed like she realized who she was talking to. She sat up quickly and shoved him away with a hand on his chest. "Not your problem, Winchester. I'll deal with it. Maybe become an alcoholic. Do you think whiskey will help?"

Sam was staring at her. He knew he was, but he couldn't stop it. "You were in pain because we weren't together?"

Dean had come around the front of Baby. "What?"

She rolled her eyes and tried to stand. She stumbled, and Sam shot up and caught her. "Easy."

She yanked herself away from him and limped to the Impala, leaning against it. "Just, no. I am not staying with people who think I'm nuts. Absolutely not. I can fix this on my own. I'm a big girl."

Sam frowned again, irritated. "Chrys, if it hurts you to be away from me, you should stay with us until we find a way around it."

Dean glared at both of them. "Why would it hurt her to be away from you?"

Chrys rolled her eyes and groaned. "I told you why, Dean," she said softly. "Look, I have tried a hundred ways to get this to stop. I have summoned demons, I have talked to witches. I have talked to people from India, Russia, Japan. I stayed with Native Americans, a coven of Satanists, and everything in between. The only way to get it to stop is if we're together, or I die." She frowned. "At least, I hope that would work."

Sam stepped forward. "Chrys, be reasonable-"

"Go fuck yourself, Sammy." She snapped, fire in her eyes. "I have spent my whole damn life trying to deal with the fact that I am the Devil's brood mare. I was told that you, Sam Winchester, was the kind of guy who could help. That you might be able to help me get away from this." She whipped around to glare at Dean, too. "Instead, I got kicked out. Which I get. But I just found out that I can't be more than half a mile away from you sons of bitches, so excuse me if I'm not being 'reasonable.'"

Sam didn't know what to say. "Look, I know this sucks-" She snorted, and he ignored it. "But I think the safest place for you is with us. For God's sake, Chrys, you can't walk a mile without passing out."

"Sam, we're not-"

"No, Dean!" Sam shouted, suddenly furious. "She's my responsibility, I'm the one who released Lucifer, and now she's bound to me somehow. We're taking her with us."

Chrys was trying to sit up again."Excuse you-"

"Shut up." Sam snapped, his patience gone. He was surprised when she obeyed, but still glaring daggers at him.

"Get in the car," he growled, stepping forward to grab her bag off of the ground.

She winced and looked down for a minute, then looked up at him. She looked like she was terrified. "I can't," she whispered apologetically. "My legs."

He stepped toward her and bent, scooping her against his chest. "Fine, just be still."

He bent, opened the door, and placed her into the backseat. When he let go of her, he saw her face tighten in pain. "What's wrong? Tell me," he ordered, seeing the mutinous look he was already becoming familiar with cross her face.

She grit her teeth. "It still hurts right now, residually, I guess." She looked down.

Sam sensed that wasn't the whole truth. "Chrys," he growled.

"Unless you're touching me." She spat out angrily.

Resigned, Sam moved her gently and sat next to her, pulling her into his lap with her back against the door. When she opened her mouth to protest, he gave her a look. "Just shut up and sleep it off, Chrys."

She was silent, but still stiff as a board. Sighing, Sam placed a hand gently on the side of her head and guided it to rest on his chest. "Relax, Chrys," he said softly. "You're safe."

She stayed here, and gradually as they drove, he felt her relax, and then fall deeply asleep. Sam didn't meet Dean's eyes in the rear view, just looked out the window, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

**Begins S5E2, after Lucifer Rises.
**Please, please, please tell me what you think!