Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Author's Note: I just discovered and got into Supernatural this summer, and there are a lot of possible stories about it begging me to be written. After much internal debate with myself, I decided to just muster up the courage and post my first story for this category (not my first fanfiction, just my first Supernatural fanfiction). Everyone hanging around here seems nice enough, so I hope you enjoy the read. This story was not beta'd.

He no longer had the strength to hold his head up. Toni (he'd come to know her well over the past few weeks) jabbed him with that syringe of hers, depressing the plunger. Toni (it's nothing personal, she swore) repeated that simple action enough times that he wondered if there were tracks starting to line his arms. It was more discreet than the mass of burns from her blowtorch (she had a fetish for the thing, Sam swore). She was giving him the image of a drug-addict (what was this about demon blood, she wanted to know) pale, his body abused and malnourished, but it didn't matter. She just wanted to keep him alive long enough to get information he was unwilling to part with.

It lured him into sleep this time. He knew it would because it was the only time someone stood in the room without trying to enact their sick form of punishment for the lengthy list of his crimes. They tried to keep him asleep—even if that didn't always go according to plan—when they moved to a new location, when they felt the current abandoned shit hole they borrowed had served its purpose and it was filled with the stench of sweat, burning flesh, and blood. It wasn't worth dragging his uncooperative ass on a plane and hauling him to London.

The situation had to be bad if the only comfort he found was in the presence of Lucifer (180 years in Hell to keep Lucifer caged for less than 10 years in Earth time), wearing Nick as his meat suit, when he dream walked into Sam's head. He showed up every time Sam slept and his words sounded a little sweeter each time.

"Sam," he said, standing in front of the beaten warehouse door, "it's good to see you again." His voice was the same purr it was when he first contacted Sam, wanting to take his true vessel. When the words came out twisted from Jess' mouth and it was so real and so fake simultaneously. Just a beautiful illusion.

"I'm not letting you jump my bones again," Sam said, none of the pain his physical body felt reflected in his voice here.

"Sam. Sam. Sam. Why don't you work with me here? I need a body that won't deteriorate, and you don't have anything left worth living for."

At Sam's glare, he shrugged and swept his arms out to the side in a grand gesture. "Look around, Sammy," he said. "Is this what you want for the short remainder of your life? Warehouse after warehouse of questions that you can't—or don't want to—answer. Torture at the hands of an organization you were supposed to be a part of, just like your granddaddy. I can give you peace, Sam."

"Forgive me if I don't believe that you want to give me peace. You know, given our past and all."

Lucifer clasped his hands together and sighed. "Always the same argument. I know, we've had our problems, but we're on the same side here now. Think of all the times when I was in Castiel's body and didn't kill you, although I easily could have."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Yeah, that's comforting. What's going to stop you from kick starting another apocalypse?"

"That would require releasing Michael, and not to mention he couldn't hold up well in a fight these days. You know what Hell does. Michael, well, he's had a tough time being away from home."

"You destroyed plenty before Michael decided to come down from Heaven," Sam pointed out.

"Would it really matter to you what I did?" Lucifer asked. He walked around the chair to which Sam was tied. "Dad and I made up. I don't need an apocalypse to draw His attention now. I'll even promise not to hurt the few people left in this world that you care about. After all, I've never lied to you. Have I, Sam?"

"You haven't always told the entire truth though either."

"Are you not guilty of the same thing?"

When Sam stayed silent, Lucifer spoke again. "Well, I'll let you think on it some more. Somewhere in that oversized head—and yes, I would know since I've been in it—you know that this is the best choice for you. The only choice where you don't have to suffer living in a world without Big Brother Dean. So when you do figure it out, all you have to do is call to me. Then one little 'yes' will take away the pain."

Sam felt consciousness pull at him, but not before Lucifer managed to add in, "It's a good deal, Sam."

They kept him in the back of a van when transporting him to a new warehouse—or other dilapidated building suitable for an imprisoned hunter, which according to the Men of Letters, is the ultimate abomination. (Illiterate savages, in Toni's words.) It was hard, but if he stretched the right way, he could catch glimpses out of the windows in the front. Toni and the driver—whose name was never mentioned to Sam—didn't seem to care much if he saw the outside world. Being tired up and injured in the back, what threat could there be, right?

Guess they never suspected that I would have an archangel offering to help.

Dean wouldn't want him to give up and let Lucifer ride him again, but Dean wasn't there. Dean would never be there again because he freaking blew up in front of God's sister to stop the world from ending. Billie probably came running to throw him into The Empty, beside herself in excitement to finally reap a Winchester.

"So, we almost to the next fun house?" Sam asked, not much more than a whisper, ignoring the stabs of pain from his ribs from every breath. It took a lot of energy for him to move these days, but at least talking was a little easier. When he thought about it, he had no idea if Toni shot him a week ago, or a month ago. Time blurred with the pain in the strange routine she'd set up for him.

Toni glared back at him from her place riding shotgun, all ice and calculation. The kind of woman immune to Dean's charm. If only he was here for her to turn down. "I'll make sure it's filled with trick mirrors and clowns. I've heard how much you love clowns," she said.

"In my experience, they kill people." A bump in the road jostled him around the back of the van and it took several controlled breaths of exhaust scented air to recompose himself. "Not that you would know, sitting around your little secret hideout all day and letting others do the real work."

"Preserving knowledge is the greatest work a human can do," she said. She stared straight ahead at the road, not giving him the respect of pretending he was more than a bug she wanted to crush underfoot. He was beneath them just for being a hunter. Being with them felt like meeting angels for the first time again, when all the angels saw was a boy with demon blood pumping through his veins. All the British Men of Letters saw was a savage who almost destroyed the world several times—they chose to ignore that he and his brother had also saved it several times, but those were just minor details. The feeling was the same.

"You honestly believe that." It wasn't a question, because he already knew the answer.

"With a look at your history, I thought you would believe it as well," she said, going for the we're-on-the-same-side-I-swear approach. Again. "This doesn't have to be painful, just answer our questions."

"You don't believe me when I do."

"Maybe we would if you told the truth," she said. Every word that left her mouth was an accusation. A reminder that this wasn't a vacation or a field trip. It was an interrogation.

"Dean is dead! Do you really think I'd lie about that?" Sam demanded. The same question set off his temper every time: where is Dean?

"Yes," she said. So matter-of-fact. "You would, if it meant protecting him. You both have a reputation of being stupidly self-sacrificing for each other. You'd jump in front of a semi if it meant saving him from a paper cut."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "That far for a paper cut? What do you think I'd do to save him from stubbing his freaking toe?"

Toni refused to respond, so it was silent for a long time. Which meant no distraction from the old truck's lack of resistance against the rough road and the renewed pain each little bump brought.

But Sam Winchester had been through Hell, and he'd be damned if this was what broke him.

"I can give you peace, Sam."

However, he was damned a long time ago. Ten years before he was born, to be exact.

No hard feelings, Mom.

He strained to see the road they were on, looking for any signs on the side for a hint of where they were. Not to pray to Lucifer. Simply out of curiosity.

Just curiosity.

"You don't seem worried about me calling Cas," he said. "Nothing to keep away angels. Kind of arrogant, don't you think?"

"I don't believe your angel friend has enough power to track you down, especially not after working his way back to Earth," Toni said. She spared only a glance—condescending, of course. "It's well-known that there aren't any other angels fond enough of you Winchesters to help you out."

"No other angels willing to help me?" Sam asked. "Do you want to tell me where we are and test that out?"

That drew Toni's full attention to him. With her eyes narrowed, she took a long, silent moment to observe Sam, size up his threat. "What are you playing at?" she asked.

Sam managed the energy to smirk, wondering how long it would take him to slowly bleed out in the back of a shitty van. Dean would have fun with that. Sam could practically hear his words.

"Really, Sam? You spend your life in Baby, just to die in some rust bucket? Your standards have taken a swan dive." Or something like that.

Maybe not. His thoughts blurred and it took a lot of effort to continue his attempts to rile Toni—who was apparently the Men of Letters' poster girl.

"You're the one with all the knowledge," Sam said. "And you have so much faith in that knowledge. I'm offering to test it."

"Raphael's old vessel was a freaking vegetable, and he still has to live with being connected to the angel who ruined his life. If that's not incentive to say 'no', I don't know what is. And according to Cas, being Michael's bitch would leave me in even worse shape after."

Even dead, Dean gave him the pieces he needed to finish a puzzle.

"You don't have all the knowledge," Sam whispered, to himself more than Toni. "Not about angels. Not about their vessels." He grinned at Toni and wondered what he must look like for her face to look so horrified and shocked. Night after night of chatting with Satan after day-in day-out interrogation, and he finally accepted the single end in sight. An end to all of it.

"Why don't you enlighten me, then?" she asked. Her voice wasn't cold and calculating anymore. She rushed her words out in panic and fear trying to sort out what situation she needed to deal with.

Sam sat up a little, ignoring the pain that wouldn't be there for much longer. He felt it. That connection Dean told him vessels keep with their angel. So similar to tapping into his psychic abilities, just harder to find buried at the back of his mind. But once he broke into it, Lucifer's voice flooded his head.

"You've made a decision?" he asked.

You'll keep your promise? If he was going to do something stupid, he was at least going to make it as safe as possible for the few friends he had left in the world.

Toni fumbled in the front seat for a knife and slashed it across her palm, trying to scribble the angel banishing sigil on the window.

"You have my word that I won't harm the handful of people you actually care about," he said.

"What are you doing?" Toni demanded. The rough road caused her to smudge her sigil and she cursed under her breath.

Then, yes.

When Gadreel possessed him, Sam never noticed it. Perhaps that was due to the fact that his internal organs were scorched at the time and Dean had to trick him into saying 'yes'. With the only hint being that Sam woke up feeling better than he had months, there was no reason to question it. Maybe, once he decided to forgo the trials, their effects wore off. An easy explanation. Rational, even.

With Lucifer, he felt the possession. He felt the surge of power flood his body, but the sorrow along with it—the result of millennia spent thinking about his brother casting him down on the order of their father, who was without a good reason for taking such actions against him. The ultimate betrayal towards a son who loved his father more than anything. During his first possession by Lucifer, that very feeling—so unexpected—caught him off-guard and made his determination waver. It let Lucifer take control and close the hole in the wall leading to his cage.

This time, surprise wasn't needed. Sam willingly let Lucifer have free reign. He gave enough to the world over the years, and the world took the his sole remaining reason to live. Last time, Lucifer locked him inside his own mind.

Now, he allowed Sam to see. He'd never been able to observe his own actions while possessed when he was fighting the entity possessing him, and he certainly didn't expect it to be a peacefully detached experience. A sort of fever dream. He pretended that it wasn't his body moving without his control, that he was just having visions again and watching Lucifer from a first person point of view. He could pretend that he didn't just do exactly what Dean would never want, but Dean was in The Empty—if Billie the Reaper was to be believed—and they would never be arriving at the Heaven they were supposed to share anyway.

Lucifer broke through the bindings that kept Sam still with ease, wounds already healing. He sat up and leaned over the back of the car seats, placing himself between Toni and the driver—who wore equally horrified expressions.

Toni raised her bloodied hand towards the sigil, but it froze. She strained to turn her neck until Lucifer released his telekinetic grip on it and allowed her to face him.

"Now, now," he said. "Let's not get hasty here."

Sam heard his own voice, but those weren't his words. He never grew used to the feeling the first time Lucifer possessed him. He doubted he would adapt to it this time either.

The driver started to pull over, but Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Keep driving."

White-knuckling the steering wheel, he did just that. Sam swore he heard the man whispering prayers under his breath, but it wouldn't help him.

Lucifer turned his attention back to a very still Toni. "Sam and I, we could manage to be friends. He gave me what I wanted, I can give him what he wants. Mutual benefits and all that. You and I, well, I don't think we can be friends. You scuffed my meat suit, Toni—it's Toni, isn't it? I'm using Sam's memories here."

"What do you want from me?" Toni ground out from between clenched teeth. "You can have it, whatever it is."

"But before you were so adamant about all your knowledge and getting answers to your questions. Although, as far as the memories in here show, Dean Winchester really is dead, so we can move past that one."

Friends with Satan? What would Dean think now?

"Dean's dead, Sam. You made the right choice. You don't have to live in this world alone anymore. We can have some fun and make up for all those times in The Cage where we didn't exactly see eye-to-eye."

"What angel would want to work with a Winchester other than the one I blasted back to Heaven?"

Lucifer ran a finger over her jawline, feeling her clench her teeth. "An angel who understands Sam better than anyone. We were both beloved sons who were left in isolation by their big brothers. Different circumstances, but the same outcome. The world beat us down. Guesses?"

"You can't be. They said you were caged!" Toni yelled. Her eyes were bright and wild with fear above her flushed cheeks.

"I was caged," Lucifer corrected. "I got out, and you practically gift-wrapped my vessel for me. My true vessel. So, thanks for that. Left him so desperate, he'd do anything to relieve the pain of a horrible world without Big Brother."

"Impossible."

Lucifer swept his arms to the side in a clearly-it-is-possible-because-here-I-am gesture.

"What do you want?"

Sam had to give credit to the driver for keeping mostly silent aside from his whispers and being able to pay enough attention to the road to not crash in this situation. Not every day you get to play chauffeur for Satan.

"Maybe I'll go to L.A. and solve crimes," he said. The same plan he gave Sam in the cage that wasn't The Cage. "It doesn't matter to you as you won't be here long enough to find out."

With a flick of his wrist, Toni's neck snapped along with the invisible grip keeping her still. She slumped in her seat. Her hand smeared blood against the door as it fell and her eyes stared blankly forwards.

He took a long look at the driver, who managed to keep his focus on the road despite his worryingly pale skin and his trembling, well, everything.

"Guess it's your lucky day," Lucifer said. He pat the driver's cheek twice and spread his wings.

The world blurred, and Sam saw the top of Big Ben in the distance before everything went black.

He regained awareness in the Men of Letters' bunker, the place he and Dean called 'home'. He glanced at his watch for the time, but its hands were frozen in place.

When he looked up from his watch, Lucifer leaned against the arched entrance to the library as Nick.

"Hey, Sam. Thought you'd like something familiar," he said.

"We're not actually here," Sam said. "This is inside my head. I'm dreaming."

"Sort of. I assumed you didn't want to see what became of the British Men of Letters."

Sam thought back to Big Ben. "We're in England?"

"For the moment. Physically."

"What's your end game?" Sam asked. "Why the sudden helpful attitude and lack of threats about bringing another apocalypse? It doesn't make sense."

"You're a son," Lucifer said, pushing off of the archway and stepping closer. "You're a brother. I know you understand how arguments in families can be."

"You walk through that door, don't bother coming back."

"I was a brother and a son. Was. Just get to the point, please."

Lucifer shrugged. "You forced me to talk it out with Daddy Dearest, and we came to an understanding. Or as close to one as we could." He grabbed a chair and spun it around before sitting, resting his arms on its back. "The apocalypse was about proving a point to Him, but He admitted to His mistakes. Hell, I maybe made mistakes and admitted it in that forced therapy session you and your brother gave us. Dad healed me. He forgave me. I'm just going clean up my mess."

"And you need your vessel for that."

"Like I said, it's not a bad deal for you. I can make this little world in the back of your mind whatever you want it to be. An eternity with Dean. You'll never have to face his death."

"Meanwhile, you'll use my body for what exactly?" Sam asked. He took a seat and rested his forearms on his knees. "I just want to know what I'm being used for before I completely agree."

"Or what? You'll throw me out?"

"I've beat you before."

"You had Dean."

Sam broke their stare down to look at his hands. Lucifer was right, and he knew it was too late to go back on becoming his vessel once again. The only difference was that the world wasn't at stake this time. Sam wasn't sure anything was at stake this time. Angels tended to keep their promises, when they made them and when they weren't being feathery douche bags.

Sympathizing with the devil, what would Dean think? He'd be livid. Guess you'll have to come beat some sense in me yourself, Dean.

"I had followers—angels who rebelled with me—who were also cast into Hell by Michael's host," Lucifer said. He wore a sad smile to hide cruelty beneath it, which Sam saw more times than he cared to count in The Cage. "I'm going to take care of that problem. That's all. Killing some fallen angels who will never reconcile with our Father—who apparently goes by 'Chuck' these days."

"After that? You kill some fallen angels, and then what?"

Lucifer shook his head. "I don't know yet. It will take time to track all of them down. They are foolish, but not foolish enough to paint the targets on their own backs."

"And that entire time, I'll just be here?" Sam asked. "Trapped in my own mind?"

"More like vacationing in your own mind," Lucifer corrected. "Spend long enough here, and you won't even remember that it's not real."

Sam bounced one leg on the ball of his foot. He ran a hand over his face.

"You'd just off yourself anyway if you were in control of your own body. You're a mess without your big brother."

"No, I wouldn't," Sam said, but the words sounded weak.

Lucifer took a moment of silence to watch Sam with his damned pitying grin. "No, maybe you wouldn't. At least, not with your own hands. But you don't have a reason to not throw yourself into hunts. You don't have a reason to avoid exceptionally reckless behavior."

Sam clenched his jaw and felt his teeth grind against each other. His decision was made in the back of that truck when he let Lucifer back in and it was too late to change his mind now. Just another regret that he had to hope wouldn't end in disaster. An eternal dream, or eternal nothingness in The Empty?

"This really is for the best. For both of us."

Lucifer vanished. No flutter of wings or any other sign signaling the end of his visit. He didn't expect the loneliness it brought.

At least his isolation lasted only a minute before Dean walked into the room with his million watt grin. "Heya, Sammy."

Roughly four weeks earlier:

The sun hung high in the sky by the time Dean managed to convince his mother that he was her son and she had been dead for decades, but resurrected as a favor for Dean, and then find and hot wire a car. He spent the car ride trying to fill in the many, many blanks of what happened since her death.

The demon who killed you is dead. Shot him myself, but Dad and Sam were there, too.

Sam saved the world, Mom. You woulda been so proud. I was. We can get into the details later, after you've had time to adjust.

He left out the part about meeting her dad. Not many great memories there.

You know Purgatory's a real place?

Angels were watching over us. Not in the way you imagined, though.

He skipped over the worst things, like Hell and all the times either one of them died only to be brought back. She'd learn about all of it eventually, but hearing an abridged version would be better for now with how much about this strange new world she has to learn.

You know, Dad never took his wedding ring off. Wore it right up to the day he died.

He led her into the bunker feeling better than he had in years. "C'mon, Mom," he said. "Time to meet Sam. He's the gentle giant type. I'd bet anything that he's sitting around the library right now doing research."

Mary returned her smile. "Well," she said, "don't keep me waiting. Didn't your father teach you manners?"

Dean shared a laugh with her, unaware of how close he was to finding his world shattered again.

Author's Note Part Two: Thank you for reading! I haven't decided whether or not to leave this as a one-shot or continue. If there's enough interest, I'd be glad to extend it into a full multi-chapter story.

Leave a review, and thank you in advance to anyone who follows/favorites!