"Who are you?"

"My name is Lucifer."

"Lucifer? Like the Devil?" Skepticism.

A smile. "If you want to see it that way, then yes. Like the Devil."

"Okay, Lucifer. What do you want from me?"

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"Something very important…"

Sam Winchester knew as much about the Dæmon Research Project as anyone else. Which was to say, he knew that it focused on a relatively new division of theology concerning dæmons—a project that set out to learn more about their ever-present companions.

Dæmons were constant; they had always been there, ever since the dawn of mankind. Perhaps even before it. They were a fact, something that all humans had. Even some non-humans had dæmons, with the exception of the panserbjørn. In fact, for the longest time, it was thought that the moon was the Earth's dæmon. But although dæmons had always been, little was actually known about them. Little was known about just how deep the connection went between human and dæmon, about the opportunities and limitations of such a connection, of the hows and the whys and other such philosophical nonsense.

A man by the alias of Carver Edlund set out to find answers to that philosophical nonsense. It was a quiet little project at first, taking in volunteers and using them for (mostly) harmless tests and experiments. Edlund said himself he wouldn't have them do anything he wouldn't do to his own dæmon, a little chipmunk who always seemed just as nervous and twitchy as he did when in the spotlight. And for a while, the project was fairly successful. Insightful, even.

And then, he just vanished. It took a while for anyone to notice—Edlund rarely appeared himself; it was mostly his scientists, and occasionally his eldest son Michael, who got interviewed and explained their findings. But after a long while of nothing from Edlund or Michael or anyone else, people began to wonder. It was speculated that something had gone wrong and someone, possibly Edlund, had died, and they had to call off the project. Another theory suggested that they had gotten in trouble with the authority and were forced to shut down. Or, perhaps, Edlund had had a change of mind, or had even imprisoned for heresy or some such thing. On and on, the theories went, no one idea quite agreeing with another. It wasn't long before it was well forgotten about, society moving on to the next interesting thing as it always did.

That was when the disappearances started. The odd person in a town or city would go missing without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. There were some who joked about the Gobblers' return, snatching kids up and taking them away to God knew where just like they had so many years ago. A story, of course, as many people said, but a good one nonetheless. Except, this time around, it wasn't just children. Teens and adults and even the elderly were disappearing, taken by some invisible kidnapper that no one ever really saw, despite the many false claims. Many thought nothing of it—people went missing every day, and tragic as it was, it was nothing new. Others, once-children and children of once-children, remembered all too well the barren wasteland of the far north, and the things that had happened there.

And then Dick Roman showed up. A rich, powerful man, his snake dæmon always peeking her sleek black head out of his suit sleeve; watching, calculating, planning. People were terrified of him as much as they were intrigued. Dick Roman said that he would be taking over the Dæmon Research Project in Carver Edlund's absence, and that he would "discover things we never even considered before." And at the end of every interview, at the end of every speech, it was said that his dæmon stuck out her long forked tongue at the crowd, as if tasting the air to see which one of them would make the best meal.

That was what Sam knew. What he didn't know was what exactly went on in the DRP. And that lack of knowledge was enough to make him worry when he realized that his brother was missing.

"I bet he's fine." Said his dæmon, a golden retriever, in an attempt to soothe him.

"You don't know that for sure." Sam argued, pacing back and forth outside the town inn they were staying at.

"He's Dean. I bet you anything he's found some girl to flirt with, that's all it is."

"Lots of people have been disappearing from this town, you know that. That's why we're here in the first place. If he was fine, he would've called."

"Not if he's about to get some. Just imagine what he'd say. 'Sorry, Sammy, can't come back tonight, there's this really hot chick, see you tomorrow.'"

"Come on, Ash. You can't tell me this doesn't seem funny to you."

"No, it's not funny at all." Aislin said, watching him with earnest brown eyes. "But you shouldn't jump to conclusions. Give it some time."

"Ash, he said he was just going to get some dinner. That was three hours ago. I've tried calling him, no answer. It shouldn't be taking this long. I'm telling you, something's up."

"Well, you're not wrong."

Both human and dæmon jumped, whipping around to face the newcomer warily. He was rather ordinary-looking—tall, short blonde hair, probably in his 30s—but there was a certain self-assurance about him, exemplified by the way his silvery-white snake dæmon was draped regally around his neck and shoulders. He looked normal, but Sam had learned a long time ago that looks can be deceiving. The fact that the man's dæmon was a snake only made him more suspicious. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lucifer." The man said calmly.

"Lucifer?" Sam was skeptical, and although he wasn't looking at her, he knew Aislin was just as on guard as he was. "Like the Devil?"

The man, Lucifer, smiled. "If you want to see it that way, then yes. Like the Devil."

Sam frowned, only slightly reassured by the knowledge that he had a silver knife tucked away in his boot, just in case. "Okay then, Lucifer. What do you want?"

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"Something very important."

"You don't really think I'm going to buy that cryptic BS, do you?"

"No, I suppose not." Said Lucifer thoughtfully. "I know where they've taken your brother."

Sam tensed, and Aislin's ears flattened. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because it's the same place they take everyone."

"Yeah? And who's 'they'?"

"I think you know."

Sam paused, frowning. He didn't trust this guy, not in the slightest, and he knew Aislin felt the same way. But if he knew where Dean was, and how to get there, Sam might not have a choice. Ignoring his dæmon's unease, he said, "What, you mean the DRP? Are you saying they're the ones who took Dean?"

Lucifer smiled again, this time in satisfaction. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Sam let out a breath, eying Lucifer critically. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need your help." He repeated.

"Yeah, but with what? What is so important? And why should I trust you?"

Lucifer tilted his head. "That is a good question."

"So answer it."

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid."

"Then I'm done with you." Sam said with a ring of finality, making to go back inside the inn. He wouldn't be sleeping, he knew that, but maybe if he could find something they'd missed….

"You won't save brother without my help." Lucifer called, seeming wholly unconcerned by Sam's distrust.

The hunter paused. "Maybe I will. You don't know me."

"You won't. You might be able to find him, but you'll never get him out. Not on your own."

"Why do you even care?"

"For the same reason."

Aislin growled, a low sound deep in her throat. They were both agitated, and they'd had about enough of this man's enigma. "Either give it to me straight or get the hell out of here." Sam said, and it earned him a thoughtful look.

"Alright." Lucifer said after a short pause. He appeared to come to a decision, although something told Sam that this had been his intention all along. "I'm going to show you something, Sam." Sam opened his mouth to ask how he knew his name, but Lucifer only held up a finger to silence him. "I'm going to show you something. And after you've seen it, you can decide whether you want to help me or not. Deal?"

"…Okay. Deal."

"When you said you were going to show me something, you didn't say it was all the way out here." Sam grumbled, tired and worried and increasingly wary. "You're not gonna slit my throat out here or something, are you?"

"If I were, do you really think I would tell you?" Lucifer asked, amused. His dæmon flicked her tongue out at Sam, more childish than threatening. "It's not far."

"What isn't far?"

"If I told you, it would spoil the surprise."

"Under the circumstances, I think I'm okay with spoilers."

"Patience is a virtue, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

They were walking along what seemed to be a hiking trail, or something of that sort. It was a little ways away from the town, and as they made it farther up the hill, Sam could see a lake, and a small cabin nearby. A fishing spot, probably, but not a popular one by the looks of it. That was odd enough in itself; it was close to the town, the scenery was beautiful, and from what he could tell, the water was just fine. Even more odd, though, was the way it was affecting his dæmon.

With each step, Aislin grew more and more agitated. She gave a low whine, and even Lucifer's dæmon was getting antsy. Sam couldn't feel anything bad around them, but he could feel Aislin's growing distress, and it made him uneasy. "What's going on?"

"You'll just have to see for yourself." Lucifer's tone was different this time, as if he was just as uncomfortable as Sam was. He did a better job at hiding it, but his dæmon had coiled tighter around his neck, and her eyes were focused on the cabin.

"What exactly is it that I'm seeing?"

"You want to know what you're seeing?" Lucifer echoed, pushing the cabin door open gingerly, as if it might burn him. Then he stepped back. "You're seeing what the DRP really does."

With Aislin refusing to take even one step inside, Sam steeled himself for what he might see, and walked inside.

Nothing he could have done would have ever prepared him for what he saw. He felt sick, and for a moment, he thought he might actually throw up. There was a man, older than Sam, sitting in one of the chairs, staring out the window at the lake. He didn't move or speak, didn't seem to enjoy the scenery—Sam might have thought him dead if he hadn't seen each laborious breath the man made. He wasn't really a man, though. Not a whole man. Because, at once, Sam knew something. He knew, just as instinctively as he knew that comfort was good and fire burned.

The man had no dæmon.

Sam was horrified. It was wrong, so very wrong. And that wrongness settled in his gut and gnawed at his insides until all he wanted to do was scoop Aislin into his arms and cling to her. The feeling only intensified when the half-man looked at him.

"Have you seen my Vira?" He asked, his voice low and raspy and lost, more like a child than a grown man. "Please, tell my where my Vira is…"

Sam swallowed and quickly stepped out, his haunted gaze finding Lucifer's pitying one. Aislin rushed to his side, and he put a hand in her fur for reassurance. "Why…what happened to his dæmon?"

"She's gone." Lucifer said simply. "Are you familiar with the term 'severed'?"

Aislin whined again, and Sam nodded slowly in shocked understanding. "This is what they do?"

"It happens, yes. More often than anyone dares to say."

A thought occurred to him just then. A thought that shook him to his very core. They have Dean. This could be him soon enough. He tightened his grip on Aislin's fur. "Why show me this?" Sam asked, when he got a better hold on himself.

"Because you needed to know what they do. What we're up against."

"Why does it matter so much to you? I mean, no offense, but you don't seem like the kind of guy who would want to stop this out of the goodness of your heart."

Lucifer's mouth twitched up into a smile that was not a smile, and he said, "It's personal. But I admit, I can't do it alone. You want to get your brother back, yes?" He didn't even need an answer to that question. "Will you help me?"

Sam and Aislin shared a quick look. "You'll help me find my brother?" Lucifer nodded once. "Can you guarantee he'll still be…whole?"

"No. But I can guarantee that I'll help you get him out, if you'll help me."

"…Then yes. I'll help you."

"Good. If you'll give me just a minute, we can head back to the town."

Lucifer walked passed Sam and into the cabin, pulling something that looked suspiciously like a gun out of the waistband of his jeans.

He heard a gunshot from inside, and rather than being shocked, Sam was comforted to know that the poor half-man had been mercifully put out of his misery.

They left that night.