Disclaimer: None of this is mine. More's the pity

A/N: This is a "between falling into the hole and the last scene of 5.22" story. No spoilers for anything past 5.22. Sam, Michael and Lucifer in the cage. (Hmm, sounds like a bad prison movie, doesn't it? LOL).

ON YOUR WAY OUT

By: MistWraith

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. They were at it again. He could see it now: He was going to spend eternity being bored to death. So to speak. He supposed it was better than being ripped apart on the rack—Dean got the short end of the stick, there—but he was rapidly being overcome by the serious need to hit something.

He wasn't sure taking a swing at an archangel was the best idea, though.

He and Lucifer had parted company the instant they'd hit the bottom of the cage. Apparently, in here, there were no nasty side effects from staring at an angel, since he still had his eyes and ears intact. Unfortunately. The argument was reaching decibels that would take down a mountain range.

He'd interrupted once to ask why Adam wasn't sitting there with him. Michael had broken off from snarling at Lucifer to mention that Adam had never been there after he'd said yes: All Adam had really wanted was to see his mother again, so Michael had sent him back to Heaven, and, Lucifer piped up to add, could Sam just be a good little human and sit there and shut the Hell up?

Yep. This was going to be an exciting eternity, Sam noted with no little sarcasm.

Not an uncomfortable eternity. No question he had ended up better situated than Dean. They seemed to be in a place architecturally related to what Zachariah had turned the warehouse into, with all sorts of rococo flourishes and what appeared to be a museum's worth of art on the walls and standing on antique furniture. Sam rolled his eyes. Maybe if "Dad" had kept Luci in a vermin-infested cell on bread and water instead of putting him up in a luxury resort, the fallen angel would have been more eager to fall into line.

With a start, Sam realized the artwork on the walls was changing, seeming to parallel the moods of the two arguing angels. Well, he was a guest in this hotel, too. He concentrated, brow furrowing with effort, and was rewarded with a room full of paintings of children behaving badly. It took a moment for the combatants to notice the changes. Lucifer just glared at him and then waved a hand. A 52" flat screen TV appeared on a side table.

"Here. I'm sure you can find something else to entertain you!" Lucifer snarled. To Sam's surprise, he thought he caught the hint of a smile from Michael.

He picked up the suddenly-available remote, pressed a button and moment later, Avatar began scrolling across the screen. Damn, Dean's going to be pissed1 What with coming back from Hell and the seals and a demon-blood guzzling brother and the Apocalypse and all, he never got to see it.

Thinking about his brother brought Sam's only regret. If he didn't think Lucifer would get a laugh out of it, he'd kick himself around the room a few times. He'd known that those last few days with Dean were most likely going to be the last few days he would ever have with his brother and he still couldn't bring his stubborn and way-too-often-for-his-own-liking self-absorption to stop contemplating his now short future to give Dean what his brother really needed: An expression of Sam's regard. You knew how you felt when you hadn't been able to make sure Dad knew you loved him, before he died. Why'd you make the same mistake with Dean?

He never understood why it was so hard to tell Dean that he didn't just love him—he figured Dean knew that by now—but that he also liked him and, even more, that he respected him. To his regret, he knew he hadn't always felt that way about his brother but he also knew now that he'd been young and immature and just flat-out wrong back then.

Then again, he knew there had been a time in his life when he'd wanted, more than anything, to put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and his family and if that required that he sneer at them, make them less, to make it easier to move away, then so be it. What fools we mortals be! But there was no way to go back, either with Dad or with Dean, and make it right.

He just hoped that Dean had seen a change in him before the end and had somehow known what Sam had foolishly failed to tell him.

A Luciferian growl shook him out of his gloomy reflections. His former passenger was pacing back and forth, whining about how many things had not gone the way they should during his sojourn on Earth and snarling about being betrayed. Crowley was going to be really, really unhappy if Lucifer ever got the chance to meet up with him again. Death, too, to hear the fallen angel tell it. Sam caught a glimpse of Michael glancing heavenward in disbelief and sighing.

"Great," Sam muttered. "I got the idiot archangel."

Apparently, there was nothing wrong with Lucifer's hearing, even if his reasoning was laughable. He whirled and glared at Sam. "And I got the host dumb enough to say yes!"

Okay, that was the end of enough. Sam glared back. "Yeah? Well, lookee lookee. You're back in the cage!"

"Much as it pains me to ever agree with Samma'el, he has a point." Michael's voice cut through the tension quietly. "You put the whole world at risk."

"But it worked!" Sam replied, wincing internally at the defensiveness in his tone.

Both archangels gave him the pityingly looks that usually accompany demonstrations of IQs of -2,000. "Sam," Michael asked gently, "when you first said yes and Samma'el jumped in and you knew the fate of the world hung on your ability to get him into this cage, were you trying your very, very hardest to control him?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "As Dean would say, duh."

"And did you get anywhere?"

"Uh, no."

"And when he was beating the stuffing out of your brother, were you trying your very, very hardest to get control?"

Sam saw where this was going. He sighed. "Yes."

"And…?"

"And I didn't get anywhere!" Sam said, glaring at Michael.

"Your very hardest is your very hardest, Sam; there's no more to give."

"But-," Sam stopped when Michael raised his hand.

"You didn't wrest control, Samma'el here gave it up."

Sam glanced at Lucifer, who was scowling and pointedly ignoring the other two in the room. He looked back at Michael. "Why would he do that?"

"What was happening just before you got control back?"

From the slight smile on the archangel's face, Sam was pretty sure Michael knew the answer, but he played his part. "I saw something in the car and it just set off a chain of memories. Of Dean. Of us. Together."

"And that's what did it, Sam. There's Samma'el, looking at the same memories and thinking, 'Hey, what the hell? Sam and I are a lot alike. We both refused to go along with what our fathers dictated. We both rebelled and tried to strike out on our own. We both thought our older brothers were pathetic and mindless drones'."

Sam winced slightly at that.

Michael continued on blandly, though Sam was fairly sure the archangel had noticed Sam's reactions to his words. " 'We're both self-absorbed and whiny—'."

"Hey!" Sam and Lucifer protested in unison.

"—'we've both done things that perhaps, maybe, possibly'," Michael's tone has taken on an edge of sarcasm, " 'might not have been the best things to do. But look! Sam's brother just keeps on loving him and looking after him and forgiving him, while I get stuck with that son-of-a-bitch Michael, who wants to kill me. It's not fair.' Or whines to that effect."

Michael smiled. "Then, in a burst of jealous indignation, he decided he didn't really want to kill Dean, he wanted to adopt him! And he let go. Too busy, I guess, nurturing his highly developed sense of victimization."

There was a part of Sam that felt a burst of indignation that Michael was basically taking his "win" away from him. Then there was the sensible, smart part of Sam that was nodding its head and going, "Okay, that kind of makes sense. I mean, I practically busted a gut trying to get control earlier and wasn't able to budge the bastard one inch, and then suddenly I not only get it but I also keep it long enough to talk to Dean, pull out the rings, throw them on the ground, say the incantation, struggle with Michael and then fall into the hole. Yeah, not really too likely, is it?"

Last, but definitely not least, was the little brother part of him, which was mentally pumping its fist and shouting, "Yes! I have the best big brother! Nyah nyah nyah nyah."

Okay, that part of him might have a ways to go before reaching the mental age of ten.

He stared at Lucifer in disbelief and rolled his eyes. "Really? I mean, control of the world was at stake and you blew it because I have a better big brother? I really did get the stupid archangel!"

Michael, who seemed to have undergone a sea change after ending up trapped with his brother, burst out laughing. Then he smiled ruefully at Sam. "Dean was right. Nothing good comes out of being a 'good son,' does it?" His eyes took on a distant look. "I loved my Father fiercely. All I ever wanted was to honor Him, to do His will. I put Him ahead of everything, devoted myself to His work and asked for nothing in return."

There was silence for a second then Michael said quietly. "And that is exactly what I got. Nothing. Trapped in this cage by a Father who abandoned all of us, myself included, and who stood aside while all this took place, when one word would have stopped me if this were not what He had wanted. I have to assume, then, He was fine with the destruction of his children, both angelic and human." Pain radiated from Michael's eyes. "In the end, I loved my Father more than He deserved."

"Ha!" Lucifer crowed. "I was right all along!"

"Not even close, little brother," Michael said, exasperation written in every line of his glowing form. "You never really loved anyone except yourself. You didn't rebel because you thought Father was wrong or tyrannical, but because you didn't think He appreciated you enough!" He looked annoyed. "Now that think about it, you and Father are a lot alike."

Sam affected an uninterested air, but in his head he could hear Dean saying "You're more like Dad than I could ever be" and his own defiant "I'll take that as a compliment." With his mind more clear these days and free from hitchhikers, he knew that he really had been channeling John Winchester—and that he really didn't want to do that anymore, even though he understood his father much better now than he ever had. His father had loved his kids, in his own way, but in the end they were sacrificed to his lust for vengeance. Just as Sam had sacrificed Dean's trust in his drive to kill Lilith.

He realized with a start that Michael was watching him, the hint of a smile still on the archangel's face. Damn but Sam wished the angel would stay out of his head. Then Michael shifted and said softly, "Tell your brother that for me, alright? That he was right."

Sam blinked. O-k-a-y. He wondered if he should put space between himself and a clearly delusional archangel. Lucifer snorted and shook his head.

"And I really did get the stupid host." His mimicry of Sam's tone was perfect and Sam flushed in annoyance. It wasn't as if Sam wasn't stuck in this cage, too!

As if Sam had said that out loud, Lucifer swept his arm around to encompass the room. "So tell me, Sammy. What was this cage built to keep in?"

"You," Sam replied shortly.

"Think a little more abstractly, Sammy boy."

Stung, Sam snapped, "Okay then. It was meant to hold archangels." Then he glared at Lucifer. "And only Dean gets to call me 'Sammy'!" Oh great, moron, why don't you give him some ammunition! He had visions of Lucifer calling him "Sammy" every other word, until the universe finally ran down. And then probably even after that.

Michael jumped in before the Sam-Lucifer Glare-Off could escalate. "Sam," he asked quietly, "just how many archangels are in this cage right now?"

Well, that was as dumb question. "I think I can do that one without even pulling my shoes off. Two." Then his jaw dropped and he stared at Michael. "Are you saying that this place won't hold me here? That I can just…leave?" He was pretty sure he looked as bewildered as he felt. "How?"

"Well, through the door might be worth a try, Sammy," Lucifer said sarcastically.

"Door? There's no-." Sam stopped dead. There was a door at the far end of the room and he was damn sure it hadn't been there before. Maybe he just had to realize it existed in order to be able to see it.

He walked over to it and hesitantly placed one hand on the doorknob. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle the disappointment if this didn't work. But Michael thinks it will, too, and I just don't think he's doing this to jerk me around. At least, he desperately wanted to believe Michael was being square about this.

Slowly, he turned the knob and felt it move with his hand. He curbed the urge to just race outside. He glanced over his shoulder at Michael. "What's outside? Hell?"

Michael shook his head. "You didn't come in from Hell, so that's not where you'll exit."

"Yeah," Lucifer muttered. "Garbage in, garbage out." He gave Sam a patently insincere smile. "Humans, you know."

"That may be," Sam said, plastering an equally insincere smile on his face. "But the garbage gets to walk out of here. You know." He turned to Michael. "Back to the cemetery, then?"

"Even better," Michael replied. "I tweaked it a bit. You're going to end up right outside Dean's door. He's with some woman and her son." He glanced up. "You know them, I think."

Sam nodded and smiled to himself. Good on you, Dean. You did a lot better at keeping your promise than I did.

He could feel eyes on him and glanced up to see Lucifer gazing at him. "You know, Sam," Lucifer said, sounding thoughtful, "maybe you shouldn't tell Dean you're back. After all, it seems he's finally gotten a chance at normal. If you go to him, he'll feel he has to go with you—because let's face it, you'll never be normal again—to look after you as he's always done. You'll ruin his new life the way you ruined his old one." Lucifer gave him a sweet smile. "You know."

Lucifer was using that voice, the one Sam had been hearing for a year. Gentle, calm, oh-so-caring and concerned, totally reasonable. The voice that said, "Listen to me, because all I want is what's best for you. We're alike, you and I, both the victims of our family, and of small-minded brothers who condemn what they can't understand and self-serving fathers who cast us out for daring to be different, to challenge them."

Sam hated that voice. And having seen inside Lucifer's head, he knew it was a lie. The self-absorbed bastard had never cared about anything or anyone but himself. I'm nothing like you, you arrogant, selfish bastard.

Or at least, he amended, his conscience threatening him with grievous bodily harm if he didn't, I'm not going to be anything like that anymore!

He turned back and stared Lucifer down. "I'm not you. And there is no way I'm going to let Dean go on thinking I'm being tortured in Hell one minute longer than I have to!" He gave the archangel a feral grin. "Even if everyone on the damn admissions committee of Stanford was one of your minions, I still had earned grades good enough to get in. So, you know, I'm smart enough to find a way to tell Dean I'm back and to convince him I need some time alone. So he can give normal a real shot." Sam's voice softened. "Your Dad knows, Dean's earned it, both a rest and a reward."

Michael gave Sam a thumbs-up. "Good for you, Sam." He smirked at Lucifer. "Told you you'd never convince him to let Dean go on anguishing about Sam's 'fate'." A "hand" of brilliant light reached out lazily toward his brother. "Pay up."

"Sure," Lucifer snarled. "If we get out of here, I promise to give you a continent of your very own."

Michael winked at Sam. "He's such a sore loser. Last time he lost, he created Hell and demons. I can't wait to see what he comes up with this time."

Sam laughed. "Whatever it is, we'll hunt it."

The elder archangel smiled quietly. "Don't forget to tell Dean he was right."

Sam nodded and started to turn the doorknob then stopped, frowning. "Wait. How much time has passed? How long have I been here?"

"Gee, I don't know," Lucifer said sarcastically, "How long have you been here? Hmm, let's see. The blue cat people are still trying to get the garbage off their world. Not that long, then."

"But I thought time ran differently in Hell than on Earth," Sam asked.

Michael and Lucifer looked at each other. "The stupid host!" they chorused. "You're not in Hell, Sam; you're in this damn cage," Lucifer added snidely. "If you were in Hell, there would be a lot of things screaming! It would be much more fun."

Sam gritted his teeth. "Did you ever think that attitude was why no one ever wanted to play with you? And now, the 'stupid' host gets to leave, while the really smart archangel is stuck back in here. Again." He adopted Lucifer's snide tone. "Gee, somebody doesn't seem to be sharp enough to get the point."

He pivoted around, turned the doorknob and, without a backward glance, stepped into a suburbia backyard. It was night and the kitchen window in the house in front of him was lit, letting him see Dean there, with Lisa and Ben. Dean's expression was grim and haunted, and as Sam watched, Dean poured himself a shot of whisky.

Okie-dokie—damn, but he was channeling his Inner Dean—we're putting an end to that crap! Time for you to really get on with your life."

Sam walked quickly around to the front, jabbed his finger into the doorbell and kept it there. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and a growling "Give it a rest, asshole," followed quickly by a woman saying "Dean!" and a mumbled apology. Sam didn't bother to keep the grin from his face as the door opened, the light from the hallway silhouetting a figure in the doorway. Sam gave it cheery wave.

"Hello, Dean."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought.