Chapter 2: to Loose Thyself
"Our state cannot be severed, we are one. One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself." ― John Milton, Paradise Lost
As Sam closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he found himself once again in Hell, however the transition was not like regular dreams. He did not suddenly find himself in the middle of a situation where he could not remember how he'd gotten there, nor did he just appear in the realm of the dead; but he found himself besides a river of magma and fire where endless souls were struggling against the sluggish current. In the corners of vision there was always small movements or a glint of firelight off horns or fangs or claws, which made it feel like he was being followed. However nothing ever approached him, never came out of the dark and gloom, never made a sound to disturb the silence on the torrid, fetid air.
Off in the distance, there was the faintest glow of gleaming gold, but the heat of the air made it shimmer and move, a mirage of safety in the Tartarean depths.
It would seem that he had arrived in Hell without alerting anyone to his presence.
He started walking toward the gold glow. Down here, without sun or candlelight or any other illumination that the res fires of the pit, that light could only be Pandemonium. Finding Pandemonium meant finding Lucifer and Lucifer- his mouth quirked up in a half smile at the though- meant safety. Sam kept walking toward the city, senses on high alert. Just because Lucifer wouldn't hurt him, didn't mean the demons wouldn't.
Finally, he came out in front of the shining city. Ba'al stood there, tail swishing calmly, and a few feet away from him, Lucifer. Sam opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, throat suddenly locked and dry. What should he even say? He had just gone looking for the devil. If someone had told him a week ago that was going to happen, he would never have believed it. So what did a person say to the Morning Star? Nervously, Sam cleared his throat. "Hey."
Ba'al noticed Sam's presence before the man spoke, looking over at him with those expressive fiery pits and nodding his head in that repetitive motion so common to horses; however the Nightmare made no sound to announce Sam's coming to his master. Lucifer attention, on the other hand, was directed towards a shadowy obsidian demon who seemed to not be entirely corporeal as their faceted body kept appearing and disappearing as if seen through a cloud of smoke. At Sam's inelegant greeting, the demon vanished completely and Lucifer's wings rustled, feathers puffing slightly in a some avian emotional display that was lost on Sam. Turning around, his regal bearing apparent in his stature and pose, "Welcome back, Sam." A small smirk pulled up one corner of his lips as a mischievous sparkle in his eyes twinkled out at Sam.
Sam smiled, lips pulled into a nervous line. "Did I interrupt you?" He asked tentatively, eyeing the spot where the demon had been. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Lucifer. "And what was that with the firecracker? I mean, I tried the praying thing and then it got fixed, kind of, but..." A thought struck him and his eyes widened. "Was that even you?"
Lucifer waved off Sam's concern, making a dismissive motion with a hand, "No, we were done, but the elemental was being... obstinate about a point of what I wanted it to do. It's a character defect of all elementals, I'm afraid." Shrugging his shoulders at the antics of his minions, he noticed the subtle shift in Sam's body language and his brows furrowed slightly at what his vessel said next. "I'm sorry about that, Sam." he said with a sigh, and he closed his eyes while massaging the bridge of his nose. "No, that isn't me, per say. The Lucifer you see when you're awake is a product of you memories of Hell, like how you see an outline after staring at a bright light. A human mind isn't made to suffer through what you did, for how long you did, and then return to living. The Soul is resilient, the mind isn't, it's a much more fragile construct." There was a guilt etched into the gentle crows feet around Lucifer's eyes, and while he didn't verbally apologize, everything of his posture was silently pleading for Sam to forgive him, "I wish I could fix that for you Sam, but my powers are severely limited from inside the Cage."
"You helped a lot." Sam replied. He didn't know why he wanted to reassure him, but he did. If he was being honest with himself, Sam was not quite sure how he felt about his changing relationship with Lucifer.
Something else about what he'd said caught Sam's attention. "You're still in the cage with Michael? Then... How are you here? I mean, you felt really when you-" his throat locked on the words 'touched me'. It had been completely innocent, he knew. Just a hand against the side of his face. But thinking about it, it seemed so... Sam did not even have a word for it. All he knew was that the words brought to mind images that made him flush, and then angry at himself for blushing. He trailed off weakly. "anyway..."
Resting his weight on one his, he looked out towards the center of the darkness, a black so absolute that it couldn't have been natural, "Yeah, I'm still in there with the good son." Bringing up his hand, he grabbed onto the back of his neck, and it was all too apparent how tired he really was. "Neither you nor myself are physically here, this is just a dreamscape. Because you are my vessel, we can share dreams, and a trickle of my power can leak through our connection to you outside the Cage." Dropping his hand from his neck, he gestured loosely towards Sam, palm up and fingers lightly curled. "However, if we're sharing the same Dreamscape, your Soul is much closer to my Grace because we're no longer separated by a physical distance, but a metaphysical, perhaps one might even say spiritual, distance." He shot Sam a quirked smile, seemingly annoyed with how difficult it was to explain
Sam nodded. "Alright, I think I got it." Nodding again, he sank onto the ground, folding his long legs into a tailor seat. After a half second of hesitation, he patted the ground next to him. There was something a little disconcerting about having a connection to Lucifer, cage or not. However, if he didn't have a choice, he had no choice but to accept it. Sam looked over at the angel out of the corner of his eye, trying unsuccessfully to be inconspicuous. He looked away again quickly when he saw he had been noticed.
Lucifer grinned surreptitiously at Sam as he walked over and held out a hand to him, "Come on, let's go inside the palace tonight. Then you won't have to sit on this infernal ground."
Ba'al neighed in agreement, wanting to go to his stables and have a good rest.
Sam clambered to his feet, pushing off the rocky ground instead of taking Lucifer's hand. The look he gave him sent across everything he didn't know how to say. He didn't know if he wanted to break the touch barrier yet, but he didn't want to hurt him either. Brushing his hands off on his pants, he allowed himself to be led into the palace.
The inside was just as grand as the outside. The floor under his feet was made of blue goldstone, the walls of gold flecked obsidian. Torches in gold brackets dotted the walls, filling the enormous hall with light. But it was the ceiling that took Sam's breath away. It was made of clear crystal, cut so the light for the torches sent pinpricks of light dancing over the room like millions of stars. He stared around in wonder, mouth slightly open as he struggled to find the words he needed to voice what was going through his mind. "It's..."
Lucifer understood Sam's hesitation about physical contact, in some respects, but there had been a part of him that had hoped... He sighed and let go of the notion. As he led Sam into the palace, he watched the man's admiration of the structure, preferring the unabashed wonder he saw on that face over any of the marvels that Hell had to offer. When Sam spoke, or tried to, he nodded knowingly. "Mammon is a true master, although that ceiling, I am happy to say, was my idea. Mammon just did the little job of making it physically possible." he said with a light tone, obviously facetious. "When there are sulfur plumes, it looks like there's a comet shower..." Moving away from Sam, he held open a door made of pure rose quartz, motioning for Sam to enter, "Welcome to the Library. We have some rather interesting works in our collection, novels and poems from each and every author who's been condemned to Hell, works that they wanted to undertake in life but never found the time for." He motioned into the room where there were several reading nooks and a fireplace with dazzling blue flames that gave off no heat.
If it weren't for where he actually was, Sam would have thought he was in heaven. There were books everywhere, filling floor to ceiling bookcases, piled on tables, open on stands. Some rested in soft chair, covers worn from countless fingers opening them. "This is incredible!" He went from bookcase to bookcase, eyes wide. His general air was one of an excitable child in the world's biggest candy store. His fingers brushed over the cover of Leviathan and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Now here's a book I'll never be able to look at the same." Sam looked back at Lucifer, grinning. "Thank you for showing me this."
When Sam passed into the room, joy pouring from him as almost a physical light, Lucifer leaned against the door frame to watch, crossing his arms. "It's my pleasure, Sam. You're welcome to come here whenever you wish, all you would need to do is visualize it in your mind before you go to sleep." From his perch against the door frame, he added, "This is the most comfortable seating inside the palace, so if you want you can just enjoy the room, or I could continue the tour for you." The way he looked at Sam made it evident that he would be perfectly content with whatever Sam chose.
Casting one last longing glance at the books, Sam walked back to Lucifer. "I'd like to come back here, if we have time." He carefully closed the library door and followed the angel down the hall. Each room was just as spectacular as the one before it. Mosaics made of precious stones and metals adorned the walls, ornate statues stood in alcoves lit by unflickering torches, and crystal lanterns hung at intervals from the ceiling. Every so often, Sam would look over at his host as he talked. Here he saw the Morning Star as he had been unable to before, wings folded against his back and lit from within by his Grace,
Lucifer showed Sam through countless rooms of unsurpassed beauty, and even the most utilitarian of rooms seemed regal and picturesque. The Morning Star kept up a running commentary as they strolled through the labyrinthine passageways, his pace leisurely as they meander, occasionally he would glance at Sam to point out some bust or wall sconce in greater detail. Eventually he had shown Sam through the majority of the inside of the castle, time seemingly immaterial in this place, and lead him up a thin spiral staircase. When they emerged, they were on the highest pinnacle of the great spire, all of Hell laid out before them in miniature from their vantage point. "And so, this is the world we created for ourselves." From on high, Lucifer pointed out the open air eyries, "When designing this place, we made certain to build aerial access, and on clearer evenings you can see the host of the damned flying in and out of Pandemonium like so many birds."
Hell had a sky! Or, at least, that's what it looked like to Sam. He could see the faint outlines of stalactites hanging from the cavern ceiling. They were studded with shards of the same crystal that made the ceiling in the entry hall. When the light from the street lamps below caught them, they gave the illusion of stars. He looked over at Lucifer to voice his observation and stopped with his mouth half open. His heart hammered in his chest, beating against his ribs. The angel's name slipped past his lips as a dry whisper. And the moment he looked at him, before Sam had even realized what he was planning, he kissed the devil full on the mouth.
Lucifer had turned from the view to observe Sam's reaction, seeing as the young man was far more intriguing than a city that he knew by heart. There came a change over his vessel's face, a stillness in the eye of the storm, and then suddenly his face was too close to observe. He was rather surprised by the sudden kiss, pleasantly surprise to be sure, but surprised all the same. The angel's wings fluffed, feathers puffing up as he wrapped his arms around Sam's waist loosely, trying not frighten the man away. Perhaps it was a side effect of how often Sam worried about having been his vessel, about that dynamic of this strange relationship of theirs, or even the fact that the man hallucinated him as a malicious entity, but whatever it was, he was contently conscious of never pressuring Sam into anything. So the fallen angel accepted the kiss with a hidden worry that this was a passing fancy that Sam would recoil from and deny ever happened.
Slowly, Sam pulled away, eyes still closed. His mouth burned where the angel's lips had touched him, an after-image of the contact. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. For a few long moments, he did not know what to say. Strangely, he not want to apologize or pretend it had not happened. Sam shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. "I... I'm still trying to figure out what's going on with..." he waved a hand at both of them, "so..." another hesitation, "so do you mind if I figure this out as... As we go?"
As the warmth from Sam's body retreated from him, replaced by the oppressive air of hell against his frigid flesh, Lucifer was almost tempted to draw him near again, but he didn't. He let his arms drop and gave Sam room, listening to his halting words with rapt attention. "As you wish." he said simply, a statement which words could not do justice to all the emotions and promises it encapsulated. For he was not without needs, but they became inconsequential when faced with the prospect of what Sam was saying. No, he could wait a lifetime for such a moment, already had.
Reminding himself to breath, an action that he did to seem less foreign, less transcendental, he replied, "And Sam... thank you, for praying to me." He couldn't explain to Sam how that had felt, when for the first time in his long, long life, someone had prayed to him. As angel, the feeling of a prayer was a balm to their Grace, the whisper of a mother's kindness, and purpose all wrapped into one fragile gift.
"I- you're welcome." Sam blinked. " And thank you for helping. I know- I think- I said that before, but it really did help." Nervously, he reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of Lucifer's hand before dropping his arm back to his side. As he met the angel's eyes, his mouth curved up into a real smile, causing his brown eyes to crinkle at the corners. It made him look- well, not younger, but at least look his age. More innocent, more relaxed definitely. Still smiling, he leaned on the railing, staring out over the city.
Lucifer inclined his head to Sam, a regal gesture paired with a ghost of a smile, "You did, and it was my pleasure." He fell into a companionable silence with the man, heartened to see his face doff its customary weariness and troubled expression. To say that Sam shown in that moment would be an understatement. Echoing Sam's actions, Lucifer looked out over Pandemonium, perfectly content in that moment, which of course should have been warning enough to him. For as he gazed over the city, he saw the great fractures and rifts splitting apart the dreamscape. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, "Looks like it's time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."
Sam almost laughed at the nickname until he realized what Lucifer had said. "I'll be seeing you." He reached up and held on to the angel's hand for a few seconds as the dream faded around them. When he woke in the Asylum, his hand was curled around the corner of the sheet. He sighed and sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Then his hand moved to his mouth. He could still feel the ghost of the kiss lingering on his lips.
Lucifer chuckled, a rich sound that faded long after his body had been lost to the darkness.
Back in reality, an orderly was inside Sam's room, having put the covered breakfast plate on his small table and was currently busying herself with raising the shades and opening the window to air out the small, whitewashed room. She carried that faintly cloying clinical smell of bleach and medicine, and as she moved, it wafted through the room. At Sam's movement, she looked over and waved at him, "Good morning Mr. Winchester. Did you have a good night's rest?" All of the orderlies knew that Sam Winchester was a borderline insomniac, which was likely do to his schizophrenia and a likely case of multiple personality disorder. So finding him asleep - and in his bed instead of curled into a corner - was quite a rare treat.
"Oh come on, lady, drop the act and just go right out and ASK him if he fought the whole night with his imaginary friend..." Lucifer muttered darkly.
He nodded, abruptly dropping his hand to the sheets. "Yes. Thanks." Sam replied, pointedly ignoring Luc- the hallucination. It was not him, he was not real, and he could not hurt him. Sam just had to remind himself of that. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the table. Bracing himself for bugs or rotting meat, Sam lifted the cover on the tray. It appeared to be normal, so he took a bite of the lukewarm pancakes. They had almost no flavor, but with the hallucinations, he had been unable to make himself eat much of anything. He had finished the pancakes and was working on the tough breakfast sausage before the orderly had even left the room.
The orderly couldn't help but stare covertly at Sam, not only had he slept but now he was responding to a question and eating his food? This was unprecedented. Deciding to push her luck one last time, she paused at the door and looked back at the man, "Mr. Winchester, Sam, do you think you'd be up to talking to your psychiatrist today?" she asked carefully, hoping that whatever this all meant, it would last long enough for the doctor to have a chance to see if the poor man was actually improving
Lucifer scowled at her and set her hair on fire. She was really starting to bug him, but he was already irritable because of this new development where Sam found him inconsequential
Sam hesitated. He did feel better and he should go to the therapist. He wanted to get out of here, after all. But there was a chance he would mention the dreams... and Lucifer... and kissing him. Sam swallowed the last bite of sausage and picked up his glass of orange juice to stall for time. If he was careful, he would be able to go to the meeting. And then maybe he could leave and meet up with Dean. Sam put down the cup and nodded. "yeah, I think so."
Nodding a little more enthusiastically than was necessary, she gave Sam a smile, "Wonderful. I'll go talk to the doctor and see when he'll be able to fit you in today. I'll be back to walk you to your appointment, alright?" Once she saw Sam's affirmative nod, she waved him goodbye and left his room.
"Well, well, our little Sammy is feeling good enough to think about returning to the world at large?" Lucifer drawled, whirling a finger in a small circle in mock cheer. Pushing off the wall he had been leaning against, he walked over to Sam and tried to lay his hands on the man's shoulders, but once again, they passed right through Sam without giving any resistance. Snarling, he leaned in close to Sam's ear and in a hushed, malicious voice asked, "And what are you going to tell the doctor, huh? That you're feeling all better because the man who you've been hallucinating fixed you up from Hell? That you're thinking pretty seriously about falling in love with him? Or perhaps that you want to go to sleep so that you can have secret rendezvous with him?" Pulling back and sticking his thumbs under the waistband of his pants, he shook his head at Sam. "Right, because that doesn't make you sound crazy at all. Sounds to me like you've traded one form of insanity," and here he gestured at himself, "for another one."
Sam flinched. Laid out like that, it looked bad. And the frightening part was that he was right. He was just changing, not healing. Admittedly, this form of insanity- he cut himself off abruptly. Thinking like that would not do him any good. This devil was not real. He was just a manifestation of Sam's doubts and corrupted memories. He knew what was real. Right?
He shook himself and went over to stand by the window. There was nothing in his cell aside from the bed and the table, so all he could do was wait for the orderly to come back. Wait and ignore his hallucinations. Tentatively, he sent a prayer to the angel, both to help himself and because of what he had said. This would help both of them. And was most certainly not crazy, he hoped.
"Then again, if you told them what you and Dean do for a living they'd still think of you as crazy, even without my help." Lucifer added as he leaned against the table. Pointing at Sam, he continued, "And then there's the question of if you're a danger to yourself, or a danger to society at large. Hmmm, let's think about this," he paused, tapping his lips before crossing his arms, "are you a danger to others? Well, you started the apocalypse. I'd say that's a bit of a danger. And then you said yes to 'moi'," he enunciated the word and laid a hand on his chest, fingers splayed wide. "You're just a whole new level of dysfunctional, aren't you Sam?"
Sam closed his eyes, focusing on his memories of the angel. His wings, his smile, the way his lips had felt. Then he added a wordless plea and sent it along. He needed this to work, and badly. Pain, he could deal with. But every word of what he was saying rang true. He could try to ignore him all he wanted, but there was no way to block out the words. And he would have to become a much better liar before he could convince himself that they were not completely accurate.
There was a sudden chill on Sam's shoulder, as if Lucifer had given a reassuring squeeze, and then an odd ripple about the room. The hallucination tried to speak but found that he was choking on a throat full of blood, and whenever he tried to utter any words, the viscous liquid would bubble and stain his teeth, slip past his lips and slide down his chin. With a scathing look more sinister than he'd ever given Sam, he disappeared in a huff.
"Sam..." The inaudible voice of Lucifer echoed through his mind. "I can only stop him for a few hours at a time, use it well." There was a shadow of an icy touch on his face, as if the fallen angel had cupped it and ran the pad of his thumb over the contour of his cheek, and it fades into the warmth of the sunlight hitting Sam's face through the open window.
Sam sighed in relief. "Thank you."
The door opened and the orderly stepped into Sam's room. "Mr. Winchester. He can see you now, if you're ready." He nodded and stood up. Use it wisely. Well, if trying to get out and help Dean and Cas was not the right way to use it, he did not know what to do. Sam followed the orderly down the hall to the psychiatrist's office. Nervously, he poked his head through the door. "Um... hello, sir?"