When Sam regained consciousness, Detroit was gone. Fire burned blurrily in his smoke-clouded field of vision. He felt a joy; so intense that he couldn't tell if it was hot or cold, but oh how it burned. His lips twitched involuntarily into a smile. He was done now, he knew. He could feel the hot, sickly, twisted grace filling his body, smothering every pore with its sheer force. It was all Sam could do to cling to his own thoughts, try to drown out the other being currently inhabiting his body. He was a puppet now, a toy for a wrathful archangel to use as he pleased. He peered out of his fleshy prison once more, only to see his arm holding what appeared to be a severed leg. Welcome to the jungle, Sammy Boy, a voice intoned inside his head. I'm sorry Dean, Sam thought as he mentally turned away from the horrible sight. He wondered if his brother was still even alive and found himself hoping that he wasn't. I'll get out somehow. I'll wear this bastard down Dean, wherever you are. Lucifer giggled. Don't forget, I can read your mind there Sammy, what with us being so close and all. It's almost like we're the same person. He laughed again, a sharp, crackling sound that made Sam flinch. We could go see Dean if you want! You missed A LOT while you were out, pal. It would only be fair to show you everything we've accomplished together. Sam curled up in a small, dark corner of his mind as Lucifer danced across the ashy wasteland of a planet he once called home.
The empty diner still smelled redolently of french fries. Whether or not this was real or whether it was a left over figment of his own consciousness, Dean was unsure. The blood that had coated the side of his head moments before has vanished. Dean didn't know what to think of that either, until he saw the figure hunched over the checked table cloth at a booth in the corner.
"I have a job for you, Dean." Death stared at him, his expression unreadable behind his black doll-eyes.
"No. I am beyond done with this. With everything. I just… I just want to rest now."
"Yes, I assume that's why you decided to make the idiotic decision to put a bullet in your head."
"The Croats got Bobby. I carried him out back and burned his bones. Cas checked out after that. I guess being human really does suck. And Sam…" Dean trailed off as the guilt and shame washed over him again. Apparently the cool metal slug had failed to do its simple task of killing his emotions, his pain, once and for all.
"I know. Now shut up and listen, Dean. Because, as usual, there are forces at play here that are beyond your puny comprehension. Did you think dying would really end it all? Did you not think that maybe Lucifer is hard at work here, gathering up souls to press-gang into his demon army, which he does intent to destroy eventually by the way. I think you would be pretty high up on his list, what with your experience and all. That's why I hurried over here personally once I'd heard of you demise and now I'm offering you an out."
"Which is what?"
"I want you to join me."
"Like, become a reaper?"
"Ooh look who's a sharp one! Did you eat your Wheaties today? Yes, what with all this chaos and destruction going on, I could use a few extra hands on deck." Death leaned forward, placing his impossibly long, thin hands on the table, in an effort to smooth it.
Dean turned his face upwards to look Death in the eye. "Alright, I will. On one condition…"
Frankly, I'm disappointed, Sammy. You shut yourself up in there when you could be having sooo much fun, Lucifer drawled inside his skull. Sam burrowed himself deeper inside his bones, trying to shut out that wormy, insistent voice. He remembered vaguely being conscious once or twice before, the blackened skies presiding over a screaming, bleeding earth. He could still smell the charred flesh sometimes. When that happened, Sam hid inside his memories. Sometimes it was Jessica, smiling sweetly up at him after making love. Other times he would seek out baseball games and concerts, but mostly he just wanted to sit next to Dean in the impala, feeling the comforting rocking sensation of the car and listening to his brother singing off-key as he drummed on the steering wheel. For a few wonderful moments he could forget all the pain and blood and remember Dean's grin. But Lucifer would always find him and drag him screaming back into the blackness.
"I'm sorry Dean, but you're lacking a few millennia worth of experience to reap Lucifer. He's one I must take myself, and I can't imagine he'll go quietly."
"That's not what I'm asking." Dean knew he didn't have a chance against Lucy, hell, he'd only reaped a few hundred souls since he took up the scythe. That would hardly get him Employee of the Month, let alone take down the baddest son of a bitch there ever was. Dean had a plan. He'd managed to screw up his entire life, but now maybe he could put something right. Please, he thought desperately, just this one thing. Let me finish this. He didn't know who he was talking to anymore, he'd given up praying long ago.
How much time had passed since he'd uttered those fateful words. Months? Years? Yeah time's funny when you're a prisoner inside your own head, Sammy. Want to come out and see for yourself? As usual Lucy was telling, not asking. The world was suddenly reverberating around him, saturated colors exploding in front of him. A garden, green and lush, with roses so red it hurt. How had he forgotten about color? Sound began to filter in, a footstep. He felt himself turn. "Ahh hello Death, how wonderful to see you again. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show. You couldn't be scared, could you?" Sam hated when Lucifer used his mouth. Hearing his own voice speak the devil's words and tasting the sulfur on his tongue made him sick.
"Please", Death scoffed as his hands tightened around his cane. "I've come to reap you. You've had your fun, Lucy. The planet is in tatters. You've done your piece and now it's time to move to the great beyond."
Sam could feel his anger, a blinding, binding pain that gripped his every pore. His body was still smiling. "I have to say I disagree. I think I'm just getting started."
"That's not for you to decide", Death whispered grimly, reaching out and pulling them in close by the front of their pristine white suite. The pain inside Sam's head exploded. Lucifer was clawing inside him, trying to find purchase in the vessel, trying to hold on. All Sam knew narrowed down to red agony as the devil dug in, clutching his insides. He could feel Death now, pulling steadily as Lucifer lashed out with all his bile and hatred. Death closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, reaching in with both hands. The anguish increased a hundredfold. Sam tried to escape, running to every corner of his mind and body, seeking some modicum of relief, but everything was aflame. Suddenly, something gave way and Sam tumbled into whiteness. He felt nothing, saw nothing. The world was blank and he was broken. A face swam into view. "Dean?" His brother was smiling through his tears.
"I've got you now, Sammy. Everything is going to be okay." Dean gently cradled his brother's soul, like he'd cradled his body all those years ago, as he carried him to The Gates and whatever lay beyond.