"You know, Sam – "
It's a dream. It's a dream because Lucifer's voice was too soft; because he couldn't quite reach out to touch Sam. It's a dream because he paced back and forth in the dead grey room, and he couldn't do anything.
"They need me," he paused again and looked around. Sam could see nothing but blank walls when he followed Lucifer's gaze. "They lay the blame on me when something goes wrong in their little lives. If they didn't have the Devil to blame, they'd simply blame one another," he cocked an eyebrow upwards. "And that would be war."
Sam's lip quirked, but he found he couldn't speak so he watched Lucifer silently. It's a dream.
"Don't you think we should give them someone to blame?"
666.
"Time flies when you're having fun, Sam." Lucifer warned him wearily, and glanced down at his shabby arms with disappointment. "Apparently, bodies wear out, too."
This time, Sam could speak, though all he could think to say was "Duly noted," as he sat upon his rock-hard bed.
"Funny," Lucifer muttered without humour in his voice, far away for just one moment. "Almost human."
Sam watched the Devil consider his body thoughtfully. Lucifer glanced upward, "Have you noticed yet that I've never called you Sammy?"
Sam's jaw tightened. He tried to get up, but his movement was restricted by something in this dream universe that he could not see.
Lucifer remained thoughtful. "That's Dean's place," he paused and looked Sam in the eye. "He could still have a place, you know, if you just said 'yes.'" But Sam noticed hesitation. "In the end, anyway."
666.
The Devil wore frustration well.
Sam's jaw was locked into place this time. Contained, quiet.
"So you've never done anything evil, Sam?" Lucifer leant closer to him. "Anything you regret?"
A lump rose in Sammy's throat. In a way, it was a little twisted how thoroughly he enjoyed the glint of pain that shivered in Lucifer's eye when he told him, "No."
In a way, it was a little twisted how much Lucifer enjoyed saying, "I think Dean would disagree."
666.
Impatience.
"Do you remember your mother, Sam?" Lucifer tutted. "I suppose not – you were only six months old when she burned alive. But you can picture it, I'm sure."
Sam's eyes widened just a little, but Lucifer could see. "Don't you – "
"Don't I what, Sam?" he challenged.
The youngest Winchester let anger encompass him. Just a dream – another goddamned dream.
Lucifer let the moment pass. "You're the strongest, Sam," he cracked a grin. "Hell, that's why I chose you. Dean will say yes before you do, I know that now."
Sam's stomach whirled. He clenched his fists.
"But the Angels don't care. They'll wreck Dean: eat him alive. Tear his soul out through his eyes and leave the empty case begin them when they're done. I won't do that," he promised. And he spoke too softly to be the Devil, Sam thought.
666.
"Don't listen to him,"
It was the first time Castiel had visited his dream in months. There was colour in this one, but not a lot.
Sam had begun to wonder whether he could only fill the background in with black and white and grey. Colour was good, because colour meant life.
"He promises you things..." Castiel trailed off, looking Sam dead in the eye. "He promises you things that he cannot possibly fulfil," he finishes with a sigh.
"He's your brother, Cas." Sam ventured carefully. He was unbound in this dream, and able to speak, unlike most.
He knew that Cas came to him like this sometimes when there was something he couldn't say to Dean.
"He is," Castiel admitted. "But I do not trust my family."
Somewhere in his mind, Sam expected Dean knew how this felt, somehow.
"I won't say yes, Cas," Sam told him wearily. From a dream universe, this made him tired.
"Yes you will, Sam." Castiel tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. "Sweet dreams."
