A/N: Hey all! I'm back with another season 5 AU. This won't be a very long fic, maybe seven or so chapters, but then I've got another Supernatural story in the works for after. Hope you like this angst-fest!

Shout-out to 29-pieces-of-me, my awesome beta who always helps make sure these fics are in shape.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and this story is for entertainment purposes only.


Chapter 1

"Well helloo, Death."

Sam stared in growing dread at the plume of smoke rising from the mass grave that Lucifer stood over. Behind the Devil, dozens of demon corpses lay sprawled across the field, the last of a series of sacrifices needed to raise the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. The tendrils of fog began to thin and peel away from the figure within, revealing a visage Sam had not been expecting. An older man with limp, lank hair combed back from a receding hairline took one step out of the pit. He had a gaunt face with an angular nose and beady eyes. Rather than a scythe, he held a simple black cane in one hand, which he set lightly on the ground as he stood before Lucifer.

Sam exchanged a paralyzed look of horror with Dean, who still lay half-sprawled on the ground after Lucifer had thrown him into a tree. Their plan to ice the Devil with the Colt had failed, and now not only had the final Horseman been released, but they had no possible means of escape. Lucifer meant to take Sam as a vessel, which was bad enough. But what would he do to Dean, Heaven's proclaimed 'Michael sword'?

With Sam's heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears, he barely heard the exchange that went on between Lucifer and Death. He kept trying to think of a plan, but even if he and Dean tried to flee through the woods, they wouldn't get far. The town of Carthage could still be full of demons—or at the very least Meg, who they hadn't seen since the hell hounds… Sam felt the twist of a knife in his gut at the thought of Ellen and Jo, but he couldn't allow himself to dwell on them right now.

He jolted as he suddenly found Lucifer standing before him. Death had vanished. "Time to go, Sam," Lucifer said, reaching a hand out. Sam recoiled, backing up into a tree.

"No!" Dean shoved himself off the ground and lunged at Lucifer with Ruby's knife. It was a stupid, futile move, one born of desperation. Lucifer simply flicked his wrist, and Dean went flying several feet through the air and hit the mound of dirt with a thud.

"Dean!" Sam moved to run toward his brother, but Lucifer intercepted him. Before he could wrench away, the Devil had grabbed his arm and Sam was swallowed in a whoosh of air and light. When his feet touched a solid surface again, he wobbled unsteadily, silver flecks spotting his vision. A low keening escaped his throat as he fought against the urge to puke his guts up.

"Sorry about that," a mild tone penetrated his woozy haze.

Sam jerked out of Lucifer's grip, and surprisingly the Devil let him. When his vision cleared, chipped stone walls, old piping, and rusted chains greeted him, all bathed in a warm ocher hue.

"Sam!"

He whirled at the familiar voice, eyes widening when he saw Cas standing in the middle of a ring of holy fire. Dammit, so Lucifer had nabbed the angel.

Cas's expression was tight with his normal intensity, but also something akin to regret and worry. "You will not take him, Lucifer," he said, sounding much more forceful than his position belied.

Lucifer sighed with the forbearance of a parent arguing with a child. "We've been through this, Castiel. Sam will say yes, because he must. As will you." Lucifer snapped his fingers then, and a burst of blinding light had Sam throwing an arm across his face to shield his eyes. When the nova died down and he looked again, the ring of holy fire was extinguished, and Cas lay in a heap on the floor.

Sam shot a horrified look between the angel and Lucifer. The Devil merely canted his head in a smug mien.

"Don't worry, he's not dead. There'd be wing prints scorched into the floor if he were."

Sam supposed that tidbit was meant to be reassuring, but it actually served to curdle his stomach.

Lucifer made a beckoning gesture, and two demons emerged from a side passage to haul the unconscious angel up. "I'm over Carthage," he said blithely, turning back to Sam and reaching two fingers toward his forehead.

Sam jerked away, backing himself up against the wall. He swept his gaze around frantically for an exit, but they appeared to be in a basement, and the only doorway was currently blocked by the two demons supporting Cas. He had nowhere to go.

"Now Sam," Lucifer chided. "There's no reason to be frightened. Everything will be fine." His soothing words sounded as though he were trying to calm a wild animal, but the effect it had was opposite. Sam's pulse spiked, and he made a bolt for freedom, no matter how futile.

The other two demons had their arms full with Castiel, and wouldn't be able to react defensively in time. Sam had intended to tackle them, maybe jar Cas awake when they all went tumbling down and the angel could wing them out of there…

Meg stepped out from behind a cement column on the left and delivered a right hook to Sam's jaw. Stars exploded across his vision, and he reeled backward to hit the ground. The impact with the concrete punched the air from his lungs. Wheezing for breath, Sam scrambled to get up, but a second jab plunged him into blackness.


When Sam regained consciousness, the first thing that tipped him off to something being wrong was the plush mattress beneath him. Never in all the crappy roadside motels, or even his room at Bobby's, had Sam ever slept on a bed that felt like one of those luxurious memory foams. He pried his eyes open and blinked at a smooth, off-white ceiling. Turning his head against a soft pillow, he found himself lying on a king-size bed draped in royal burgundy, with gold embroidery stitched in a grid. The bed had four bronze posts at the corners, each topped with an ornate sphere. Sam wasn't sure where the hell he was, but he spared a brief grateful thought that he wasn't tied to the bed.

He sat up slowly, trying to figure out whether this was some sort of dream. Sam didn't usually have nice dreams though. There'd been that one with Jess, which had actually turned out to be… Memory slugged him with equal force to the blow that'd knocked him out to begin with. Lucifer.

Sam swung his legs over the bed and quickly stood, eyes darting around the spacious room. He was alone. There were no windows, but lamp sconces in the wall provided ample illumination. To the left of the bed was a round table with two wooden chairs, and next to it against the wall stood a bookcase full of hardcovers and paperbacks. On the right perpendicular wall was a long, low table holding a spread of food: fruits, vegetables, shortbread cookies, and a pitcher of water. Where the hell was he?

A quick pass of the reading material revealed spines marked Milton's Paradise Lost, Dante's Inferno, Goethe's Faust, and even several volumes of Neil Gaiman's graphic novel series, The Sandman. Was that supposed to be Lucifer's sense of humor? Choosing literature that depicted a suave, debonair Satan. Sam could add 'narcissistic' to the Devil's list of unseemly character traits.

He inched forward enough to see that in the far corner was a door and what looked like a bathroom within. Turkish rugs covered the floor, and on the last wall hung a gilded painting depicting a man wrestling with a lion, hands hooked in the beast's jaws to keep its fangs from sinking into a bare torso. Classy. Next to it was a closed oak door. Sam strode toward it and gripped the handle. It didn't budge.

Letting out a huff of frustration, he turned back to consider his prison. Why had Lucifer put him here? Where was here? He walked the perimeter of the room, examining the walls in search of kinks or perhaps secret passage ways. Yeah, right. He peeked in the bathroom and found a large porcelain tub, separate shower done in aqua blue tile, and a large sink with gold faucets. There was no window there either.

It was the most opulent cage Sam had ever seen, but it was definitely a cage. He started to pace, both terrified of when Lucifer decided to show himself, but also anxious to get it over with. What was Satan's deal here? Treating Sam almost like a royal guest instead of a prisoner.

His chest constricted when his thoughts turned to Dean, now completely alone. His brother was alive though, had to be. Lucifer had scooped Sam up in the blink of an eye and left Dean in that field, and Sam doubted the Devil would have made a return stop to hurt Dean further. At least, that's what Sam had to believe, had to hold onto.

He knew his older brother wouldn't handle his disappearance well, and he hated to think of what reckless thing Dean might do. Sam needed to get back to him soon. But escape seemed impossible. The one hope Sam clung to was Lucifer needed his permission to take him as a vessel. And that was something Sam would never give. He just hoped Dean trusted him enough to have faith in Sam's strength, that his older brother wouldn't do something stupid…

But a sliver of doubt slipped into his mind and quickly put a chink in the mental armor he'd been trying to erect. Sam had been weak before. How many times had he proven that left to his own devices, he just screwed things up? Dean kept him on the straight-and-narrow. Without him…well, there was a reason Dean had called after they'd gone separate ways. Sam didn't know all the details of the future his brother had seen, but he got the distinct feeling that Dean didn't fully believe Sam could resist the Devil. And if his own brother couldn't have faith in him, how could Sam have faith in himself?

The click of a lock jolted him out of his thoughts, and he drew his shoulders back with a deep breath when the door opened. As Lucifer stepped inside, Sam caught sight of a darkened corridor with a railing, metal pipes, and what looked like old power plant machinery. So he wasn't in some fancy house; the fancy quarters had been brought to him. Why though?

"It's good to see you awake, Sam," Lucifer said. "I do apologize for Meg's over eagerness. Demons," he tutted. "So bloodthirsty."

Sam watched him warily, muscles taut with growing panic. You won't give in. You won't give in.

Lucifer spread his arms to encompass the room. "Are you comfortable?"

Sam snorted under his breath. "Why do you care?' he managed to ground out.

"I care about you, Sam." Lucifer pressed his palms together and gestured at him. "You set me free. You're my true vessel. Why would I not want to take care of you?"

A thick lump started gathering in Sam's throat, and he tried to muster up some bravado, false as it may have been. "So, what, you're trying to trigger Stockholm Syndrome? It won't work."

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. "You're having trust issues. I understand that. But I will never lie to you, Sam. I will never trick you."

He wanted to scream for the archangel to stop using his name like that. "Like pretending to be Jess in my dream wasn't a trick?" he said icily.

"Hm, I can see how you might think that," Lucifer conceded. "But it wasn't meant to be cruel. I know you miss her. I thought it'd be nice if you could share a peaceful moment with her memory."

Sam gritted his teeth. He would never admit how much that dream had tugged at his heart, how seeing her visage again made him miss her all the more, how it made him crave her touch, her voice.

"Where's Cas?" he blurted, desperate to divert this conversation.

Lucifer quirked an eyebrow before both rose in understanding. "You mean Castiel? Hm, I like that nickname." He began to pace in contemplation, following the same path Sam had worn in the carpet. "How interesting that you've given him one. Does he like it? He's a rather peculiar angel, you know. Consenting to ride in an automobile with you to Carthage…"

Lucifer sounded mildly fascinated by this, which Sam didn't understand, though he did glean one important piece of information—they were no longer in Carthage. Lucifer would have said 'here' if they were. Sam had figured he wasn't in the town anymore, but confirmation was always good. Or not, since it meant no one knew where he was or how to find him. What if he wasn't even in the same state anymore? No, his only slim chance of escape was if Cas could engineer a plan, but he had no idea whether the angel was in a state to try.

"What'd you do with him?" Sam pressed, ignoring the quiver in his gut.

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. "He's fine. Not enjoying the same accommodations as you, of course."

Sam swallowed thickly. What did Lucifer want with Cas anyway? Sam knew why he was here as the 'prized vessel,' but what good was Cas? Surely Lucifer knew he was cut off from Heaven, and therefore couldn't give him any information on the angels' movements.

Lucifer eyed Sam curiously. "You consider Castiel a friend?"

Sam shifted his weight, wondering what the hidden motive behind the question was. "Yeah, he is," he said after a moment.

"Hmm. He's obviously loyal to you as well."

Sam kept his mouth shut, not sure where the 'obvious' part came in. Sure, along the way Cas had gone from open disdain of Sam to passive tolerance, maybe even acceptance. But if anything, the angel was more devoted to Dean than Sam.

Lucifer's lips twitched in mirth as he read Sam's face. "You doubt that? Doubt that someone could care about you, after everything you've done."

Sam clenched his fists, knowing Lucifer was going to twist this now, try to manipulate him. It didn't stop the words from stinging though.

"You've always been different," Lucifer continued consolingly. "From the beginning you had a destiny that caused others to fear you. Fear what you were capable of. Your father wanted to kill you. Your brother prepared himself for that eventuality."

"Dean would never—" Sam cut in, but Lucifer's sympathetic smile choked off his protest. He stepped forward, forcing Sam back until his legs hit the edge of the bed and it was either stand his ground or fall backward onto the mattress. And he did not want the Devil leering over him.

Lucifer's gaze roved up and down, a slight purse to his lips that bespoke pity and compassion. "You've been through so much. And there's still so much to do. But I promise you, Sam, once you open yourself to me, your worries will be over. All the pain, all the doubt, all the judgment. You will find peace once you take your rightful place in this world."

Sam wanted to clap his hands over his ears. He wouldn't listen. Lucifer didn't want him as a vessel to give him a 'gift,' as he'd said when first coming to Sam in that dream. No, Satan wanted to destroy the world. There would be no peace for Sam if he let that happen—if he caused that to happen.

He lifted his chin, heart thumping erratically and lip slightly quivering. He refused to back down though. "Never."

Lucifer's shoulders sagged. "Well, we have time. You will say yes, Sam. That's just the way it is." With that, he turned and strode out of the room.

After shaking the stupor from his brain, Sam rushed to the door and tested the handle. It was locked again. He dropped his forehead against the wood and squeezed his eyes shut against a surge of emotion.

Stay strong. You won't give in. You can't give in.

If God was listening, Sam prayed desperately for a way out of this mess. And though he was used to Dean coming to his rescue, his brother had absolutely no way of finding him. Sam was well and truly on his own.