The Devil Is a Card Shark
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I do not profit from this story.
Pairings: None
Rating: T / PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 5.07 The Curious Case of Dean Winchester
Beta: webbswoman
Summary: "Just lucky." Truth is, having Lucifer in your head is usually not a good thing. But apparently the devil is a card shark, though that doesn't mean that Sam always has to listen to him.
Note: This story relies heavily on quotes. All recognizable lines are from the show. Italics indicate mind-to-mind speaking.
It didn't start in Oklahoma. Sam almost found that strange because if Lucifer had been able to come to him in his dreams and disguise himself as Jessica, why had it taken him longer to get into his head? But no, he had not heard Lucifer's voice again until a week later. His car hadn't survived the shock but Sam had.
At first, Sam had feared that Lucifer would use his ability to find him. But the devil had confessed that this was not possible:
"I cannot even hear anything but your most prevalent thoughts. Nick is not strong enough for more. That is why I need you, Sam. You are my true vessel. That has always been your destiny."
Having Lucifer in his head was not merely a nightmare come true; it was an annoyance which brought Sam to the brink of insanity. The devil commented on Sam's thoughts and the things he saw through Sam's eyes for hours, and there was nothing the hunter could do. Screaming helped as little as clapping his hands over his ears. The tension brought on headaches, and while Sam attempted to throw the pain at Lucifer, to the devil it was like a breath of air and it brought no relief for Sam.
The solution he finally found was almost ridiculous. It had nothing to do with hex bags or any other supernatural object. It was called Risperdal and was an antipsychotic medication against schizophrenia. Who knew that real voices could be banished just as easily as imaginary voices? Which raised the question of how many imaginary voices were actually real voices.
He took the pills out of Dean's sight. And, until the poker case, he had been doing well. But it seemed that the pills were losing their effect and, before he knew it, Lucifer was back in his head, commenting on whatever stray thought he could catch.
Mostly Sam was worried for Dean after he had played Patrick and lost. Lucifer seemed to find it amusing and mused what Michael would still be able to do in the aged body, if anything.
When Sam played Patrick, Lucifer was silent and at first Sam thought he had finally left. But he found his voice again shortly after Lia had returned.
This doesn't look too good for you, Sam. Or for me if you continue playing like that.
How about you shut up then and let me do this, Sam shot back. He was thankful for the break. The spell simply had to work.
This time, Lucifer actually complied with his order for the time being.
"Question. Is this what you meant to give your big brother?" Patrick held up a toothpick.
Sam's expression didn't change. His mind, however, was racing. He feared for Dean and Bobby, who were out there somewhere, chanting over a useless fire because he had screwed up just like he always screwed things up. He could see Lia's shocked face over the he-witch's head. She hadn't seen it coming either.
"The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good."
Patrick threw the toothpick across the table. Sam's left hand clenched into a fist. "I don't like cheating, Sam."
Patrick reached out with his arm, fist closing and Sam felt his air cut off.
And this isn't cheating? Lucifer questioned levelly, completely unaffected by the violent turn of events, even as Sam gasped and strained for air.
"Stop it!" Lia shouted and grabbed Patrick's wrist. "Patrick, let him go!"
"He tried to kill us!" The he-witch argued.
"I did it! I gave him the spell!"
Shocked, Patrick released Sam and rose from his chair.
"What? Why...why would you do that?" Patrick clasped her face in his hands, pushing back strands of her hair.
"You know why," she replied, touching the silver locket around her neck. "You know."
Patrick released her and looked away. Sam watched the exchange. He wondered what was in that silver locket – Dean had suggested a picture, judging by its size, but of who or what? – and how far Lia's reasons for helping them would go. Whatever it was, it made the witch pause. It seemed that he couldn't look at his wife. Had his witchcraft cost someone close to Lia their life? Patrick turned to him, eyes hard. Slowly he sat back down.
"Keep. Playing," the he-witch ordered in a hoarse voice.
Yes, let's play, Lucifer answered.
He started off easy. Sam struggled between listening and not. If Lucifer truly helped him in this, would he owe him a favor? Sam decided not to follow the Devil all the way. But taking some advice couldn't be that bad if it was for Dean, could it?
This doesn't mean I'm going to say yes! Sam stressed.
Eventually, you will. I have that much time, Lucifer merely answered. Sam didn't reply, elbows on the table with his hands clasped in front of his lips. He kept his face as blank he could make it as he watched Patrick throw cards on the table.
Alright, Sam said, mentally breathing a sigh. His head hurt. What are you suggesting? And how do you even know poker?
I don't. I have other things to do than learn how to play human card games. But in this game, winning is not about the rules. It's about everything else. You apply the rules, I'll do the rest.
And, as he listened to Lucifer, he realized that as long as he concentrated on his voice, it was easier not to show his reactions to the cards.
Why are you helping me? he demanded, unwilling to accept that the devil was helping him without expecting something in return.
I've told you before, Sam, I would give you whatever you want. If you wanted the world, I would give it you.
So you ARE doing it to gain my consent.
Sam thought he could hear a soft sigh from the devil. Before either could say anything else, the he-witch interrupted their mental conversation:
"Well, look at you—the percentage player betting the farm. Awful transparent of you, Sam. I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have, I'd trap you." Sam remained silent. Patrick was playing with him. "But you get so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot." Sam raised his eyes slightly to look at the witch.
Patrick picked up his face-down cards.
"I fold," he said, discarding his cards. "Set of ladies, I'm guessing."
Sam pulled his chips towards him to lay down his cards face up: the three of clubs and five of diamonds. In the back of his head, Lucifer was laughing.
"Nice bluff," Patrick commended him, nodding his head. "If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."
"I got time," Sam answered, his voice almost husky. The strain of playing for his and his brother's life while not giving the Devil any more control than he had to did not leave him unaffected.
Are you so sure about that? Lucifer teased.
Patrick twisted his mouth into what might have been a smirk.
"Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon."
Sam looked up, ignoring Lucifer for the moment.
"And when I say 'soon'..." the he-witch continued, leaning forward onto the table, "I mean minutes."
Icy fear closed like a fist around Sam's heart. He was frozen for a moment, then made to jump up. Patrick immediately extended a fist and forced him back down telekinetically against Sam's struggles.
Ooh, cheating again! Lucifer nearly cooed.
"The game's not over till I say it is. Blinds."
Sam threw a chip onto the table. There was no time for games; he had to finish this as soon as he could.
Let's up the ante then, Lucifer said.
The he-witch dealt two cards for each. Sam glanced at his before slapping them back down on the table and adding another chip to the pot.
"So, when it's about your brother, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window," Patrick commented. "Good to know."
He does have a point there, Lucifer threw in.
"Go to hell," Sam answered instantly, meaning both of them.
You need to be careful. Don't raise the stakes too high, Lucifer said, not reacting to Sam's swearing.
Sam was through with listening. He shoved all of his chips into the middle.
"I'm all in," he said. Sam could almost feel the Devil's surprise.
Patrick sighed and checked his cards.
What are you doing? Lucifer demanded. Sam ignored him.
Patrick shook his head. "Don't do that, Sam."
"I can't leave until it's over? Fine. It's over. Now, where's my brother?" Sam demanded between clenched teeth.
"Look, there's poker and then there's suicide."
Stop. Now.
Sam continued to disregard the former archangel who started a monologue about how disappointed he was and how irresponsible Sam had shown himself to be.
"Just play the hand," Sam demanded.
Patrick added all his chips to the pot. "Fine." Then he discarded one of his cards and dealt the seven of diamonds, then the nine of spades. Lucifer abruptly quieted.
Patrick stared at him across the table; Sam didn't look away, feigning worry on his face.
I may have underestimated you.
Patrick turned over his cards: he had two aces. "I'm sorry, kid. Aces full."
Sam looked at the cards. Incredulous, Sam finally let out the sigh of relief that had been stuck in his throat since Patrick dealt the flop. Looking at Lia, he said:
"You're crying."
Lia sniffled and looked away.
"For a witch, you're so nice, it's actually kind of creepy. It's okay." Sam assured her, straining to push down his own emotions. He turned back to Patrick.
"That was a great hand," he commented, reaching for his own cards.
Patrick leant forward to collect the chips.
"Just," Sam continued, causing Patrick to look up at him. Sam swallowed in an attempt to moist his dry throat, "not as great as," Sam turned up his face-down cards, "as four fours."
As Patrick looked at Sam and then the cards, the Winchester took a deep breath and let it out. Patrick leant back in his seat.
"Well played," he said, entirely serious. "You know, that whole...going-out-of-your-head bit—very method."
Sam didn't hide the grim look of satisfaction. In the back of his head, Lucifer chuckled.
Going out of your head? Well, if he wants to call it that…
"Well, there's more to you than meets the eye."
The he-witch raised his glass. Sam merely nodded.
"Cash these in for Dean, please."
The other man nodded and set down the glass.
"With pleasure."
"You actually beat the guy? How the hell…?" Bobby was at a loss.
Sam shrugged. "Just lucky."
Lucifer was suspiciously silent. It seemed that the Devil had left the building. Sam would stock up on Risperdal anyway.
Huge thanks goes to webbswoman for once more being a fantastic beta.
Thanks for reading. Reviews would be lovely and are always appreciated!