Sam watched Rowena paint the warding sigils with suspicion. Yeah, she was "a professional", but she was also seriously power mad. And that suppressed smirk and dip of her head when they told her it was Lucifer in the Cage...oh, that wasn't suspicious, oh, no. But, dammit, she was the only game in town.

He followed her with his eyes as she completed the sigils and returned to the elevated table where all her spell-casting ingredients were laid out, ready. Why hadn't Dean answered his call? He clenched his jaw momentarily as the thought that Amara might have...done something to him slipped through his mind. The whatever-it-was - Bond? Link? Hold? - that the embodiment of The Darkness had with Dean was worrisome. Especially since Dean was so silent about it. Like he didn't know what it was. Or he didn't even realize that it existed. But Cas had questioned him about letting Amara slip through his fingers, and Crowley had asked the same thing, and all Dean had to say about it was some hand-waving at the "sister of God", he hadn't said anything about the details of what happened.

He frowned and returned his attention to Rowena. She chanted something in an unknown language, raised her hands, and the sigils began glowing, one by one. Then she threw some herbs into the silver spell bowl, raised her arms again, chanted some more. A fiery line erupted around the temporary square prison, and grew upwards. Lightning began to strike and thunder to crash. Crowley looked around nervously, and muttered, "It begins."

He couldn't take it. He turned away, flexing his hands into fists, drawing a shuddering breath, dipping his head, closing his eyes. His long hair swayed forward over his forehead.

Lucifer.

They were actually calling Lucifer to manifest in this flimsy cage.

Rowena had been vague as to whether he would actually be there, or whether it would just be a soul manifestation, a projection linked to the real Lucifer, still safely locked up in the real Cage. Meddling with The Cage was madness. Sheer madness. But there seemed to be no other answer. And given that the visions had appeared whenever he prayed to God for help with The Darkness...well. Who was he to argue with the will of God? However much it terrified him, if this was the path God said to take...

He could tell, by the reflection of the reddish light, that the flames were dying down. And he heard something. Footsteps. In the temporary cage. Then Crowley, talking. And a return voice.

Oh, God.

He knew that voice. Nick's voice.

He shivered.

He listened to the conversation, and then the question came: "What do you want of me?"

He opened his eyes, looked out across the dark expanse of Limbo. That was his cue. Time to do it. He drew another deep breath, turned back, stepped forward. Looked.

And there he was. No scabs and pustules - Nick's form, like it had been early on, before Lucifer's power ate through his body.

"Sam Winchester." The voice was low and amused. "My old roomie." Sam's skin twitched, hair rising on his arms. "Hug it out?" Lucifer smirked.

Sam closed his eyes again, clenched his fists. He could do this. He had the will of God behind him, his faith to steady him. He had been given the visions for a reason. God wouldn't ask more of him than he could give, he was certain of it.

Lucifer spoke again, lightly. "I gotta say, I'm a little in the dark about this meeting." He chuckled. "Am I up for parole? Time off for...bad behavior?" He flashed a lopsided smile. "I don't really get visitors."

Sam braced himself, answered. "If it weren't for the crisis topside, you wouldn't be getting one now." There. Not so bad, right? His voice didn't shake too much.

"Crisis?" It was as if Lucifer's ears perked up.

"You're...aware of The Darkness...?" Stupid question, of course he knew about The Darkness, that's why they were here!

Lucifer hissed in a breath. Okay, that wasn't good. Luci, worried enough to show it?

"Yikes. That doesn't sound good!" Lucifer slid a glance at him.

"Uh..."

"I'm aware of what she was, but that was eons ago," Lucifer added conversationally, with another sly smile.

Sam drew in another deep breath, braced himself. "She's been released, so now she's somewhere - everywhere - on earth."

Lucifer was close now, up against the bars of the temporary cell, eyes stabbing into him. He absent-mindedly nibbled on a fingernail, spat it out to the side, his eyes never leaving Sam. He let the silence drag a bit, then asked slyly, "However did that happen?"

Sam closed his eyes, opened them again, let it slide. Lucifer obviously had some very good ideas on how it happened.

"Point is, she poses a threat to everything that exists. Including you." There. An appeal to his self-interest.

"Hmmm," Lucifer replied thoughtfully, angling his eyes upward, leaning back. "Well! That leads me to my next question: Where's the Big Burrito himself? Where's God in all this?" Contempt, dismissiveness. Sam wanted to smash him in the face, over and over again. But he couldn't, even if he tried - Lucifer was still an archangel, strong with Grace, no matter how corrupt. And, besides...Sam had been down that road before. It led nowhere but to infinite pain.

"All current indications of His presence are that...there are no indications of His presence," he answered slowly.

And, of course, no surprise from Lucifer. No real surprise. Just mockery. "What?! Caught the bus outta town? Figures. Hmm." Sam clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth. He wanted to shout, "Show some respect, dammit!" But that was Lucifer's reason for being here, after all.

He swallowed and added, "But..." Lucifer flicked up an amused eyebrow, waiting. "Recently he has...reached out...to an interested party."

"Who?" Lucifer's eyes were bright with interest, teasing.

Here we go. "Me," Sam answered shortly.

"You?!" The surprise was exaggerated. The implication - one implication: why on earth would God reach out to one Sam Winchester? Surely there were better people to reach out to? Oh, Lucifer knew how to dig into people's hearts, find their weak spots. Sam struggled with that question, himself. Who was he to get God's attention? Why would God send him visions? Wasn't he the one who started all this trouble in the first place? But...

"He answered my prayers." Sam reassured himself, as well as passing on the information. He had prayed; he had gotten visions, visions that led him here, to face Lucifer. God had answered his prayers. It was reassuring; he was not being punished for the actions that led to The Darkness being set free. He was being guided.

"Did he now...?" Surprise, amusement, superiority, disbelief. Again, digging into his psyche. "And what was Dad's suggestion?" Eager interest. Damn. How could someone layer a simple question with so many different things: My Dad. Talking to you. Really. You tiny little naked ape.

"To seek you out," Sam answered hoarsely.

Lucifer chuckled. "Get outta town! Seriously?!" He laughed fully. "Who'd've thunk it?!"

Sam was silent. Lucifer's laughter died down, and he leaned forward confidentially. "I completely get why you came to me. Can't ignore God, right? God says 'Jump!', everyone says, 'How high?'" he said lightly.

Sam asked hoarsely, "So does this mean you're on board?" Dear God. Working with Lucifer. They had to be insane.

"Wellll," Lucifer drawled slowly, slyly. "I did help Dad seal up The Darkness all those years ago. She's quite a force," he added with a small grimace. "Determined to take over everything, even back then. Prone to tantrums. I can see why Dad is lying low." He slid a glance to see how Sam took the implication of cowardice on God's part. Sam said nothing. "Now that sis is here, God's not the only circus in town."

Sam seized the opportunity for a real answer. "Is she equal to him in power?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Raw power? Sure." Sam closed his eyes momentarily. He had been hoping Amara was lying, puffing herself up. But fighting someone - something - that was God's equal? Dear God, how on earth could they do that?! Lucifer went on, "But she's got none of the...experience. God's a master strategist. That's why you're here." He pointed a finger at Sam. Sam blinked.

"And why is that?"

"Well, 'cause God needs my help to put the cat back in the bag." Sam had a quick mental image of two men grasping a writhing, squirming cloud of darkness, forcing it into a burlap sack, twisting the top and tying it shut. Hah! But Lucifer was chuckling now, saying, "Can't do it by himself. Seen that movie." So, what? God had tried it by himself before the archangels? And couldn't?

"And...?" Sam prompted.

"Anndddd..." Lucifer said slowly, quietly, a gleam in his eyes. "I need a ride out of here. I mean, I look swell in here and everything, but I'd be so much smoke, topside." His eyes locked onto Sam's.

He swallowed. "You want a vessel."

"One who's...strong enough to hold me, handy, and available now." Lucifer smiled, winked. "Catch my drift?"

There it was.

Out in the open.

One of the things he was most afraid of.

A muscle jumped in Sam's jaw. "Do you really expect me to agree with this?!"

Lucifer paced a bit beside the wall of the temporary cage, dragging a hand languidly along the bars. "I know, I know, it's a lot to ask." His voice oozed false sympathy. "But desperate times require desperate measures." He offered up the old chestnut with arched eyebrows, inviting Sam to see it his way.

Well, fuck that noise. As if.

"That's not desperate, that's certifiable!" Sam protested. His chest was rising and falling rapidly with his breaths. He felt trapped. Surely this wasn't what God wanted from him. Surely. But there was Lucifer, watching him with those sly eyes. He felt like they were pinning him down to a board, like a butterfly spread out to be studied, poked, prodded - he drew in a gasp, shuddering, remembering...

"Okay, hold on there a second, cowboy! Take a breath," Lucifer added with false concern. "You've been working with Crowley. You passed 'certifiable' three off-ramps ago." Ugh. Yes, he was working with Crowley. He hated it, despised that slimy, manipulative demon. But, oh so much better than Lucifer. By far.

Lucifer looked at him earnestly. "And, look, I'm no fan of the Ruler of the Universe - " No shit, Sam thought. " - but here I am, ready to pitch in!" He spread his arms wide. Then he leaned forward again, close to the bars, and said intensely, "Sam, why do you think God sent you to me? To get my help - which I only now just offered! Sam, your visions were the Word of God, you can't say no to that!"

That was the hook. The main point. What he had been saying to himself every step of the way to this point. God had sent him those visions. God had shown him The Cage, Lucifer, everything. God needed Lucifer's help. Lucifer needed a vessel. And he, Sam Winchester, was especially bred to be that vessel. Thousands of years of pushing people together, breeding them - ugh, so vile, so against the very concept of "free will" - to bring him to this point. Again.

Sam backed up, swiveled away, started pacing. He bit his lips, ran his hands through his hair, scrubbed his fists up and down his face. Surely God couldn't ask this of him. Too much. It was too much to ask. He'd given his all once before, to save the world. He'd spent four fucking centuries in The Cage with Lucifer tormenting him. And now God wanted still more?

He found himself in front of Lucifer again, with only the fragile bars of the temporary cell separating them. Lucifer eyed him eagerly.

"So have you thought about it, Sam?" he said, low and urgent. Sam was tempted to respond sarcastically - no, I haven't been thinking about it, I was just out for a stroll! But he kept his mouth stubbornly shut. "Do I have an invitation to look forward to?" Lucifer added in a caressing voice.

He shuddered, skin crawling. To be Lucifer's vessel again?

He squared his shoulders, and answered both Lucifer and his own thoughts at one go: "No," he said firmly. "I won't do it. There has to be another way."

The world seemed to stand still at his refusal. Lucifer just looked at him with a tiny smile. Not surprised. Not angry. Just that tiny smile. And then the sigils at the bottom of the cell started fading. He heard Crowley's voice rise, Rowena answering him. He started to take a step back, watched the warding flames between him and Lucifer sink down, die away, fear rising within him.

What the hell?!

The flames vanished, sinking into the surface of Limbo as if they had never been there. And as Sam watched with horrified eyes, Lucifer smiled widely, made a small gesture...

And he was inside the cell. With Lucifer. No bars separating them. No warding sigils keeping him safe. No warding flames ensuring that Lucifer couldn't touch him. Just him and Lucifer, together in a ten foot by ten foot cell. Again. Locked in. And no way out.

Focus. Control. Don't let the panic take over. You are in the most danger you've been in in a long, long time. Remember, God gave you this vision. Right here, in a cell with Lucifer. You've seen this. It's part of His plan. Breathe. Again. Focus.

Lucifer walked toward him, a triumphant grin on his face. "Together again. Hey, Sam Winchester, didja miss me?" he snickered. "I bet you did." Sam's skin shivered like a terrified horse, but he drew in a deep, calming breath, exhaled slowly, clenched his jaw, held his ground.

God wants this, he reminded himself.

As if he heard the thought, Lucifer arched his eyebrows at him. "I have to say, you're extraordinarily calm, given the circumstances."

Sam breathed in, breathed out again. "It's pretty much exactly how God told me it was gonna be. Guess I just have to..." He paused, drew in another ragged breath. "...go with it and play my hand."

Lucifer smiled wider, clicked his tongue. "Tch, tch, tch. That would make so much sense if it was God doing the talking."

Wait. What?

Lucifer went on, pacing the edge of the cell, dragging a hand from bar to bar, talking. Sam stayed frozen in place. "You see, Sam, when The Darkness descended, its effect on Hell was massive. The Cage was damaged." Sam flinched. He could dimly sense what was coming. "Through the fissures, I was able to reach out." He stopped, turned back to face Sam, eyes gleaming. "It wasn't God inside your head, Sam. It was me."

Sam's world crumbled.

The comfort he had been leaning on...

The sure, quiet knowledge that this was God's own plan...

His faith, his solid, strong foundation...

Gone. With one sentence. Ripped from him.

"So, y'see, Sam, He's not with you. He's never been with you. It's always been...just me." Digging into the wound. Tearing into it. Tormenting him. Like before. He closed his eyes, opened them again, stared frozenly at Lucifer. A single tear spilled out, dropped onto his cheek, rolled down.

Lucifer chuckled again, smugly. "Soooo, I guess...I guess I am your only hope."

Sam drew in a shuddering breath, gritted out, "It's never gonna happen." But it was bravado, just bravado. He knew what Lucifer was capable of. The thought of enduring yet more, when he had thought he was all done with that torment...already, he was flinching inwardly. The knowledge of what Lucifer could do to him, had done to him...it was already undermining him. Before, when he jumped into The Cage, dragging Michael with - well, he had had no real idea. It took courage, yes. But now he didn't have "an idea". He had sure, certain knowledge.

He was terrified.

"Ah, well. Settle in there, buddy." Lucifer took a jaunt around the cell, whistling tunelessly. Then he stopped, gestured up high in the air. "Hey, roomie...upper bunk?" Then he gestured lower. "Lower bunk?" Then he turned to look directly into Sam's eyes, with a vicious smile. "Or do you wanna share?"

Sam shivered, remembering. Skin being flayed off, then slowly growing back. Limbs set on fire. Rape, over and over and over again. Bones broken, then twisted with glee. Thoughts invading his head, toying with his memories, twisting them, turning them into hellish caricatures. Lucifer shaping himself into Dean, into Dad, Mom, Bobby, Rufus, to enjoy the extra torment it provided Sam to be beaten, forced, flayed, burnt by people who loved him.

He closed his eyes, locked his jaw against the scream that was trying to force its way out of him.

Oh, God, Dean. Help me. Please, please help me!

A hand against his cheek. "Sam? Sammy!" He opened his eyes. Dean. He gasped, reached out, gripped Dean's hard, muscular arm, gasped out, "Dean?!" Dean smiled, reassuringly, gave his cheek a quick pat. Then the smile shifted into something ugly, the gentle hand on his chin bit in, as Dean pulled his head forward with a vicious yank, slamming his lips down, forcing his mouth open. He morphed before Sam's eyes into the form of Nick, grinning at him. "Hey, c'mon, bunk buddy! Time for some fun!"