AN: OK, I have honestly no idea how that story came to pass, I guess I was inspired by Mark Pellegrino's incredibly evil Lucifer on Oh Brother Where Art Thou. This story takes place during season six, when Sam's soul is in hell. My take on Lucifer's "bunk buddy" allusions is that he really liked to threaten Sam with the worst. It's shamelessly angsty for Sam, and he's not in a good place (obviously, he's in hell…).
This story is the darkest thing I've ever written, so tread carefully and read the warnings.

Summary: Sam's time in the cage has been – yeah, hell. Even more so because Lucifer really has a very sadistic character trait. And he is a master of manipulation and insinuation. This is a momentary picture of Sam's predicament after years in the cage. Lots of angst. Dark.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Pity. And I don't make profit with these stories. Pity.

Warnings: Graphic description of torture and threats of rape (but no actual rape, though). Oh, and swearing, but I guess if you're ok with the other things, a bit of swearing won't offend you.

Rating: M

At the Devil's Mercy

Sam awoke slowly. Something was different. Normally his body would have been torn apart and Sam would jerk awake gasping heavily in a renewed body, with no signs of scars but the memories that grew inside his head like a raw and festering wound.

But this time, he really awoke. Like not from a new death, but because he actually slept. Has he slept in the last years? Did he even need things like sleep anymore? He shouldn't, but there he was, waking up.

He felt the cold and metal surface of the cage under him, so he was lying on his side, and not like usually, attached to several hooks. It had become one of Lucifer's favourite things, attaching absurdly small hooks to various inner organs at different angles and keeping him in place like that, being forced to watch his torturer while he burnt, cut, or did whatever else he wanted to his body. It had been awful when he first shut his eyes because he couldn't stand it anymore, watch his body being cut to pieces, and new hooks had attached themselves to his eyelids, effectively keeping his eyes open. 'Sammy, what I'm doing here is art, it's really impolite to pass up on the chance of watching an artist work, don't you think?' He hated and feared this voice to equal parts, especially the lightness in it, always as if he was just chattering away about the weather. And that he called him Sammy. It was always a reminder of the life he had, not perfect but so nice compared to what he was reduced to now.

He was still breathing evenly, eyes closed, enjoying the brief break, not caring how it came to be. Suddenly he felt a cold breeze at his neck. And again. It was too constant for the gusts that sometimes hit the cage and found their way in through its tile's slots. Sam went completely stiff. He shortly stopped breathing, because that on his neck was just that. Breathing. And in this secluded part of the cage there was only one thing breathing apart from him.

No!

He jerked his eyes open and just wanted to scramble away, when an arm was suddenly tightly wrapped around his upper body, keeping him lying on his side and pinning his arms to his body. Cold shivers were running down his back, provoked by pure fear and the ice-cold body pressing against his back.

"Sammy, you should know by now that I know exactly when you're conscious. Isn't this a much nicer way to wake up than the hooks?" Lucifer spoke in such a soft voice that it alone made Sam want to gag.

"No!" Sam didn't know if he was more answering the question or shouting out his general discomfort with the whole situation, because what was this ,really? He had endured all kinds of torture until now, but the Devil being so close, holding him in place as if he were a weak child frightened him to no end. He could see Lucifer's arm around his chest moving with the heavy breaths he took, but his grip got even tighter.

"Don't you know what day is today?" the devil was now whispering into his ear, eliciting another shiver from Sam that Lucifer most likely enjoyed to no end, but Sam couldn't help it. What the hell was wrong with today?

"It's your fortieth year in hell, Sammy. Anniversary! I have thought of something very special for today."

Fuck. This was not the first anniversary. Sam had the feeling that Lucifer made them up whenever he had an especially nasty idea, like being a spectator at his own autopsy or being skinned alive while Lucifer was softly singing 'Rock DJ'.

He suddenly remembered that he wasn't fixated by any chains, only an arm, and began to struggle. He had ceased struggling a long time ago, but Lucifer's body tightly pressed into one's back was really the best motivation anyone could have to restart struggling.

He got his right arm that had been crammed under his body free and used it to grip Lucifer's arm tight. With all his strength he flung his body around and released the arm. Sam landed on his stomach, panting, while Lucifer tumbled over him and landed on his back next to his victim, clearly distracted by the sudden resistance.

Sam was on his legs instantly, trying to get as far away from Lucifer as he could. He expected hooks to embed themselves into his body, but nothing happened. His back met the slitted wall of the cage. Right. Lucifer didn't need the hooks, Sam couldn't get away. He was thoroughly trapped. He breathed heavily, trying to hide the fear that he felt when the Devil rose up and the cage began to shrink, pushing Sam towards Lucifer without him moving a muscle. Sam hated that property of the cage. He had learned pretty early, when he had been more energetic and still had his hope, that Lucifer was somehow able to alter the appearance of the cage. Sam had assumed that that was also the reason why he hadn't seen Adam or Michael once in the cage.

He was standing before Lucifer now, who seemed to have overcome his surprise at Sam's resistance and was genuinely happy now.

"Sam, if I had known earlier that I just needed to snuggle a bit with you to get that fighting spirit back…" he shook his head a little and chuckled to himself. "I like it when you fight back. It's almost as much fun as seeing you give up and surrender again. I really like breaking you." He considered for a moment, "No, I love it."

Sam wanted to merge with the wall behind him when Lucifer stepped even closer. The devil extended his hand to Sam's face, but Sam grabbed the hand at the wrist, stopping it inches away from his face.

"You know Sam, either you let me touch you or I get those small hooks that you love so tenderly under each fingernail of yours and I touch you anyway."

Sam knew that he shouldn't shudder at the thought of his mutilated fingers, he had endured much worse, but the torture in the cage wasn't something that he could ever get used to. Hell, he had been here for forty years if the devil spoke the truth and every new day still promised unending new forms of pain.

Sam let his hand sink down and that in itself was maybe the worst. It showed him how weak he had become. How he had become vermin. Lucifer's cold hand swept a long strand of his hair behind his ear and then laid itself on Sam's cheek. Or maybe not on Sam's cheek, but on the person's cheek that the cage had made him. Because the old Sam would never have surrendered without a fight. He would have his hands and body torn apart before Lucifer would touch him. But the old Sam was a memory far away. A comforting and at the same time excruciating memory of what he was and what he lost.

Sam hadn't noticed the tear escaping his eye until it froze at Lucifer's hand. Like his life, really. Frozen and broken at Lucifer's hand.

"Oh, Sam," Lucifer's fake pouting face was only inches from his, "You cry for me, that's so sweet. It must have been two month since the last time. When exactly was that again? When I tried the lobotomy? Who knew that such a small brain could hold that much blood… Or was it when I threatened to cut off your hair? Can't remember, really… Oh, now I know it! It was when I hummed that song that Dean likes so much while giving you all those fancy burns." He drawled off, laving peacefully in memories that would make any other person including Sam retch.

Faster than Sam had hoped for, Lucifer focused back on his favourite and only victim. His right hand was still resting on Sam's cheek, but his left hand was now on his chest. It was strange, every time his body was reassembled, he once again wore the clothes that he had on him when he jumped into the cage. Right now, the jacket was missing, but he still had his blue plaid shirt on him. He at least remembered it to be blue, in the cage most colours faded to black. At least that shirt somehow separated Lucifer's hand from him.

The Devil must have had the same thought, for he let his hand slip under the shirt, eliciting a gasp from Sam at the ice cold sensation on his stomach.

And that was the shock that the former hunter needed. It was an instant where he saw this situation like from outside, the Devil about to grope him and Sam with his arms limply hanging by his sides like the perfect victim.

That was not him. And if he could do anything about it, he would never be.

He let out a roar and grabbed both of Lucifer's wrists with his hands while at the same time shoving them both away from the wall. The Devil was surprised for a second, but he collected himself quickly.

Sam saw the hooks impaling themselves in his hands, blood gushing madly as his hands first cramped in agony and then went limp around Lucifer's wrists. His aggressive roar changed to a cry of pain when his bleeding and mutilated hands were roughly yanked up, stretching his arms above his head and forcing him to stay upright if he didn't want to wrench his hands deeper into the hooks.

Lucifer was grinning. "I hoped that you'd do that, although I really doubted it." He walked up to Sam and disappeared from his view when he began to circle him.

"Now for your anniversary present," the Devil's voice came from behind and Sam suddenly felt a hard yank at his shirt that made him groan in pain when the loss of balance ground his fingers into the hooks. After the first pain ebbed, he felt a new coldness and realized that his shirt was missing. He couldn't help shivering visibly. He knew what was to come. Honestly, he had expected it a lot earlier, but he was terrified nevertheless now that it was about to happen.

Cold fingers once more invaded his body, this time running over his back and stomach so tenderly that it made Sam sick. It confirmed his suspicion. Panic began to rise up in him.

"Stop, please…" Sam choked out, unable to do anything else and simultaneously hating himself for the weakness he showed.

The hands stopped and one of them even left him, making Sam cling to that small shiver of hope like the desperate person he was.

The hand roughly gripped him by his hair, yanking his head back and overstretching his neck painfully. Maybe the hooks would tear through his hands and just let him go… no, that had never happened and would never happen.

"Sammy," he had no idea what he loathed more. The feeling of the Devil's lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, or the soft voice he whispered in. "Hasn't anybody taught you that it's very rude to decline a gift? All the more when you don't know what it is because you haven't unwrapped it yet?"

He stopped for a moment as if in thought. "Ok, I already began to unwrap it, but it's still rude." If possible Sam felt even colder. He was the present. He squinted his eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down a bit, because he was not far from panicking, maybe closer than he ever was.

"Yeah Sammy, calm down, it will be half as bad when you relax. Maybe you even enjoy it."

These words whispered in his ear, together with Lucifer's hand on his stomach beginning to slowly circle lower immediately brought him back to panic mode.

He tried to wriggle free, to somehow escape the clutch of those abominably cold hands. He screamed as the force of his movements made his hands hurt like hell, serrated edges tearing through skin and stopped by bone, but he didn't care. He just wanted the cold presence of the Devil off his back. But Lucifer didn't relent. He even gripped him tighter, pulling his head a bit further back. Sam's struggle ceased. He was completely spent. He breathed heavily as his adrenaline and his hope faded in the same pace, the Devil everywhere around him. There was no escape. He needed a moment to let that sink in. When he finally accepted it, he blacked out for a second, as if his mind tried to separate from his body. When his vision came back, he only saw black blood slowly running down his arms, for his head was still held back by the fist in his hair. He would never get used to the colourless world inside the cage that painted everything in shades of grey. And black. All the blood. Always black.

The devil finally released his head, and Sam took a shuddering breath.

"Now, Sam, that's better. You're finally accepting your present. And this is what it's going to be." He once again laid an icy hand on Sam's lower back, sliding just a bit below the waistband of his jeans.

"I will violate you." He made a small pause to let it sink in. Sam didn't really need that, he had known all along. But weirdly, hearing it said out loud was even more horrid. Lucifer's thoughts seemed to have taken a similar route.

"There, I said it out loud. I read a psychology book once, it said that it helps to name your problems, speak them out loud. You already feeling better, Sammy?"

Somehow it was fascinating how Lucifer still managed to unsettle Sam with his talking. It had been for so long and Sam tried to ignore him most of the times, but he still got to him. Maybe it was because he had spent so much time torturing Sam. He knew exactly how to disturb him.

"No? Then I'm trying again. I will violate you – " he now wrapped his arms around Sam from behind, in something that could only be described as abhorrent spawn of a hug, the Devil's right leg trapping Sam's from up front, his head resting at Sam's neck and his breath sweeping his collarbone as Sam stood utterly silent.

"-But not now." The words were whispered so quietly that he thought he might have imagined them. Then Lucifer let go of the hug and strolled back in front of Sam.

He saw his bewildered expression and smiled mischievously. "Don't be disappointed, Sam. I will give you your present and have my way with you. But not now," the Devil's hand began to lazily touch Sam's stomach again, pleased at the shudder he evoked. He began to circle his still suspended prey, hand never leaving Sam's skin.

"Maybe I will do it in ten years," he heard Lucifer's deep voice from his left side, "maybe in a hundred years." The hand had now travelled to his back. "Maybe next week. Maybe tomorrow."

Lucifer ended his circle, hand still lingering on Sam's shivering skin, and was once again much too close for comfort in front of Sam. When he leaned in on Sam once again, stubble scraping over Sams cheek, Sam was still too frozen to lean away when the Devil whispered into his ear.

"Maybe right after I tear your ribs out." Sam had no idea how Lucifer did it, throwing him from one horrible scenario into another, when he produced something that looked like a crossbreed between huge scissors and loppers. Well, he was Satan, so maybe not that huge of a surprise.

Sam screamed when the Devil shoved the nasty thing under his ribs right beside the sternum. He screamed even more when he heard a loud crack as his bone was scrunched under the blades. He squeezed his eyes shut, the afterimage of a wildly grinning Lucifer still lingering on his retinas.

It continued, and Sam continued to scream at every smashed bone. He was long past caring if the Devil heard him scream. He had tried to hold his screams back during the first week, but Lucifer had blithely accepted it as his personal challenge.

Sam realized that he was in that strange spot again. Sometimes his thoughts wandered away when under torture, and he still felt the pain, but not as prominently. If Sam knew how to get into that strange place inside his mind he would certainly do it more often. In the moment, he really needed the small break to think. He hadn't been given any time to process what Satan had told him earlier. That Sam would now be under the constant threat of being violated. He had no idea how he would stand this through. But to be honest, after his first day in the cage he hadn't thought that he would stand through another day either. Sam would have to do it like before. Survive day after day. He had to. He-

"Sammy! Don't you zone out on me!"

He was jerked back to reality by Lucifer patting his cheek impatiently. The nasty scissors were laying on the floor in a puddle of his blood. Sam's bile rose when he accidentally got a glance at the mess that had once been his chest, bones and torn skin in a bloody mess. And god, it hurt.

"Oh Sam, I can see your heart beating. Is it beating faster? Just for me? That's so sweet. Maybe I should eat it – or even better, I let you eat it, what do you think?"

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would stand this through. Day after day. Because there was one thing the Devil didn't know. One speck of information so tiny that Lucifer wouldn't consider it to be any important. But for Sam, it made all the difference in the world.

Because he would do it again. He would dive into that cage again and damn himself to eternal pain if he were given the choice. Because one tortured soul was a laughable price for all of humanity. For Dean. He would stand this through for them. One day at a time.

Forever.

AN: Ok, I told you it was dark. I don't know if it came through, but I personally think that threatening Sam is way more fun for Lucifer than following through would be. I think that he doesn't want a completely broken Sam, he wants him to resist there and then, because Sam is his only distraction for eternity and the Devil loves a bit of a fight.

Please let me know what you think, and leave a review. If there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I'm not a native English speaker, but among other things, I write to improve my English.

This is planned as a one-shot, but if you like it and want another chapter, I'm a person easily to be persuaded ;)

Comana