Title: Being Lucifer's vessel
Summary: What happens after Sam says yes?
Disclaimer: I don't own any Supernatural characters.
AN: To those reading Sam I am, thank-you so much for the reviews I really appreciate them and I've had a bit of writer's block with it but the next part should be up in the next few days.
Saying he is terrified is an understatement. Sam curls up in the corner of his mind- he hasn't felt this small since he was a child- and lets the devil take the wheel (saving his strength for when the time is right). He holds his tattered wits close to him like fireflies of light as Lucifer burns through the cosmos- chained to a comet- Jimmy nailed it on its head.
Somehow the fireflies stay within his grasp and a little ball of light rests inside him. He can do this; he will do this- because he has to. There is time to think and he thinks about it all- from forging silver bullets to winning soccer trophies- and somehow his confidence grows. After all at this point there's nothing left to lose.
When the time comes he pushes himself forward, pain threatens to crush him down- a morsel in a crowd of pitchforks. For a moment he doesn't know if he can force his way through. Sam thinks of all the people he's doing this for: friends; family; those who've sacrificed their lives; those they saved and those they didn't; hunters and civilians; random motel owners and sleepy diner waitresses. He is doing this for everyone so he doesn't back away like the vomit-inducing-eye-gouging-agony is begging every fibre of his being to do.
Sam's vision is dark and spot-caked and he's not losing ground but not gaining much either. He's only a morsel but suddenly as he thinks of the people he stops thinking of his duty (pressure) to save them- and thinks of who they are. He thinks of all those ideas and memories and hopes and wishes and dreams and lives. He isn't just a morsel; he has six billion people behind him even if they don't know it. There is an energy there, strong and stubborn, unknowing but unquestionably there- a life-force. It is all of humanity standing up and staking their claim to this marble- because it's theirs, blood and guts and all.
For the first time in a very long time Sam isn't alone. He forges forward and the pain doesn't matter anymore- it pulses weakly along tendrils shining with the strength of armies. The fireflies are dragons now- breaths of fire lighting up the sky. Sam smiles as he reaches the front and wiggles his fingers just to be sure he can.
Lucifer's voice appears syrupy smooth, coaxing and commanding and I understand you Sam. Instead of the usual blankness in the face of the devil's analogies of their lives Sam finally has a response, fiercely whispered; I understand you too. Nothing more needs to be said.
Soon they are standing at the edge of the abyss- one small step for man. Considering the usual def-con level of Lucifer's tantrums he probably should be more worried about the screaming going on in his head. Instead his smile morphs into a rarely seen grin. Sam thinks of Angels and their threats and then thinks fondly of their former-angel-newly-human friend. Things really have come full circle and now is as good a time for humour as any. Sam's response to Lucifer's vitriolic words is a wonderfully ominous facsimile of words once said.
"I pulled you out of Hell and I can throw you back in."