Chapter One

Your name is Sam. You are 26. You went to normal high schools with normal people surrounded by normal classes. You, however, are anything but that. You've done almost every form of self harm there is and are diagnosed with almost everything: anxiety, depression, personality disorders, light anorexia, etc. You are bits and pieces of everything. Of course, your father and brother don't know anything about you. Not really. Since you move around so much, your diagnosis has come from psychiatrists and therapists from all parts of the country. They don't know about it. Your heels are cut and scarred so much it hurts to walk. There are burns across your stomach and sometimes you don't eat. You just don't, and then you're so disgusted with yourself you somehow puke up the little bile left in your stomach.

You, Samuel Winchester, are severely fucked up. You've come to accept that by now. It only makes sense that you, out of everyone, would be the one to love Lucifer himself, but that comes later.

Your father is dead. Though he might have been an asshole you mourned him, as did Dean. You and John never got along because you were so similar. You might not have had the same stubbornness, but the both of you were just too uncompromising. It was just another reason you are so close to Dean. He was the only one you had. He knows you better than you know yourself, yet he never figured out your freakishness. You're smart, you're clever, and you keep all of that hidden. You might share almost all of your living space together, but he's never found your blades. Or matches. He hasn't seen your scars, and you're going to keep it like that. You know how he'd treat you if he found out. Broken. It'd be the blood all over again.

Besides, you don't even want to stop. You enjoy the feeling of skin splitting and stinging as blood oozes out. The way the blade somehow never gets that dirty even with blood dripping out of your skin. Oh, and the burning. The way the sun kisses your skin is unimaginable. The slow burn heats it's way up your skin and tickles your nerves. When you burn your ankles it becomes almost ecstatic. The way the blood withers and boils with fire is one of the best sensations ever. Oh, and there's when you decide to stop eating. The empty pit in your stomach, the low hungry growl it emits, it's practically orgasmic.

You take a disgusting pleasure in destroying yourself. You're just happy Dean is distracted with all the women he sleeps with to notice how long you spend in the bathroom. He probably thinks you're jacking off, but you're doing something so much better. Since Castiel showed up Dean hasn't been going out as much, and it's been getting tougher to find time when he isn't around.

But that's beside the point. Right now you're in the Impala with Dean. He's listening to Metallica and subtly nodding his head, eyes sternly looking to the road ahead. He's so engrossed in the music he doesn't notice you studying him. It's something you do with everyone, a pastime of sorts. You can tell he's thinking about what happened just a few days ago. You ask yourself constantly why God chose to save you out of all people. Dean is a hero - he deserved to be saved. But you? You're a freak. You take pleasure in destroying yourself both mentally and physically.

You turn away from Dean. Sometimes you just can't look at him. You know you are nothing like him. He deserves a brother better than yourself. You don't know how you two could possibly be related.

It's been awhile since you had a good night's rest. You decide to use this time in the Impala to rest your eyes. You lean back against the smooth but well-worn leather and get pulled into a deep slumber

There's an emptiness in your mind, and then it's filled with your average dingy motel room. There is a fogginess about the room that reminds you you're in a dream. The room has two twin beds with muddy green sheets and cream stained pillows. The carpet is the color of a dead rat and doesn't smell much better.

There is someone else in the room. You can feel him. You turn to the corner of the room where a figure wears the darkness as a cloak.

"Thanks for freeing me from that hell hole, literally." The voice chuckled, "All this time looking from the outside in. Oh, what adventures you two have. I can't wait to become a part of them."

You turn to the corner of the motel room just as he emerges out of the shadows. Your first thought when you see him isn't what you expected. You think he is the most gorgeous creature you've ever seen, not the most horrid. This is obviously a dream, but his image is so crisp and pristine. You are engulfed in his image and can't tear your eyes away.

His hair is a washed out grey, cut short. He has piercing blue eyes that seem to bore into your soul. He has a warm auburn aura. His body is short but sharp yet you can't help but feel a welcoming presence. He chuckles low and deep a second time, "You're the first one to think of me as warm since, well, since the beginning of time" his smile softened and he looked toward you, "I knew you were special since the day you were born. You had this beautiful look in your eyes, like you didn't belong in this world. Your eyes haven't changed, have they Sam?"

They hadn't. You still don't belong here. He is the devil, it makes sense that he can hear your thoughts, and - wait, how long had he been watching you?

"I've seen everything," he says.

He's seen everything, your mind repeats. Your eyes put up a glassy barrier in defense of what he might say next. What you do to yourself is none of anyone's business. You don't need to explain it.

You don't bother saying anything out loud because you know he's listening.

Lucifer's silky voice wrapped its way around your ears. "Of course you cut your skin. Of course you burn and tear it. It's only natural. A beauty like yours can't be contained in something so humane, so... unworthy and tainted with sin. It only makes sense that you feel the need to destroy something that limits your true potential. My precious Sam, do not fear showing me these things. It only makes me see you as more

perfect." You looked up and saw a childlike fascination in his eyes. You never take compliments because you don't believe what others say... but this was different. He sounded so sure of himself, so confident, that you couldn't help but believe him the slightest bit.

"Lucifer," you say. There is no question, fear, or anger in your voice. You are simply stating a fact. "Indeed," he replies. "Why are you here?" you ask like a hesitant but curious kitten looking into a new world. "You belong to me," he said. You don't know what to make of this so you turn away. "We are two halves, you and I, don't you see?" His statement makes you uneasy yet stable at the same time. You don't know why Satan would choose you out of everyone on this filthy planet. Why would he say these things? What does he want with you, and why is he so believable?

You're overthinking, and it's giving you a headache. Sleep is for resting, not mind games given to you by the devil. "Rest your mind, Sam, gather your strength. You will see me again." With those final words the motel room disappeared and you tumbled down a dark stairwell until your mind was at rest.

End Chapter One