Thank you so much Jenjoremy for all your work on making this chapter readable and Ncsupnatfan for helping to make some sense of the ideas.
Chapter Four
Lucifer was smug when he came to Sam. His smile was wide and his eyes alight. He looked as though he was cradling a great secret. It worried Sam, as nothing that could make Lucifer look like that was going to be a good thing for him.
"Hey, Sam," he said cheerfully. "I've got a surprise for you. Want to guess what it is?" When Sam merely glared at him he shook his head. "You still can't talk. Sorry about that. I forgot. Let's loosen up that voice box." He waved a hand and Sam felt the constriction in his throat disappear. "Better?"
"Fuck you," Sam said, his voice rough after not using it for so long.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Rude." He pushed the cage away and made it swing.
Sam gritted his teeth as the spikes bit into the wounds that had already developed on his stomach, chest and back. Only by holding his neck stiffly was he able to avoid the ones that would pierce his face.
"Let's try that again," Lucifer said. "Where do you think we're going?"
Even knowing his refusal to play along was going to cause him even more pain, Sam stayed silent. He didn't care where they went. The only place that he could think of that would be worse was the actual Cage, and there was no way Lucifer would go back there. Wherever else Lucifer would take him would make no difference to his situation. He would suffer wherever he was.
Lucifer looked annoyed. He drew his blade and poked it through the bar of the cage and rested it over Sam's left nipple. He had left Sam covered in shallow cuts the day before that pinched and pulled when Sam moved, but Sam thought he had something more intense planned for him now. He braced himself but the pain didn't come. Lucifer withdrew his blade and smiled as he tucked it away.
"Later," he said, the single word a threat. "I have something better planned for you now." He set the cage to spinning slowly and walked around Sam in the opposite direction, his face flashing across Sam's eyes with each rotation. "I don't like it here, Sam. I don't mean this world, though I am not a fan of that either, but this church. It's basic and too Christian for me. Too much like Michael. Unimaginative. I want to go somewhere with a little more class." He grabbed the cage and brought Sam to a painful stop. "Do you want to know where we're going?"
Sam rolled his eyes.
"But you'll like it, Sam. It's home."
From his pocket he pulled a familiar box with an Aquarian Star carved into the wood. Sam's heart skipped and he fought to keep his expression neutral. He obviously failed as Lucifer crowed.
"I'm taking you back, Sam! You're going to be cozying up in the old fires of home." He grinned. "Michael got this key off of Abaddon but he didn't know what it was for. I found it stashed among his stuff, and I figured why not? I want to be a good host, and where better for us to set up our new base of operations than your home?"
Sam did not want to go there. The bunker was their place, his family's. It was Dean's home; it was the first place he'd had that was his own space since he was a child. Sam didn't want Lucifer defiling it with his presence and that of the other angels.
There was nothing he could do about it though. If that was where Lucifer wanted to go, it was where he would take Sam.
"Ready, Sam?"
In spite of himself, Sam shook his head.
Lucifer laughed. "You don't want to go home? Then this will be even sweeter." He slid across the bolt that held Sam in the cage and dragged him out. Sam's muscles had seized in position and he staggered as his feet hit the concrete floor. Lucifer held him up by gripping his shoulder tightly enough to strain the joint.
"The others are meeting us there," he said. "There was some preparation they needed to do for me. I wanted it perfect for you. Ready? Good."
His fingers pinched deeper into Sam's shoulder and a moment later Sam was blinking in the library of the bunker.
It was almost exactly as he remembered it from the day he and Dean had gone there for the first time. The personal belongings that had been dotted around when he'd left his world were missing and the air was stale. The only thing different was the contraption set by the bookcases. It was metal and shaped like a Latin cross with leather straps nailed into the crosspieces. It lay at an angle so whoever was on it would be semi-reclined. Its function was clear at once, and Sam had to swallow down panic. Lucifer was going to use it as a rack.
Lucifer saw where Sam was looking and he beamed. "You like it?" he asked. "It's not exactly what I hoped for, but it was the best we could do with the time we had. I think you'll find it comfortable enough anyway."
He dragged Sam over and pushed him so his back was against the center of the cross. It pressed against his wounds and burned, but Sam held the pain between his teeth, not wanting to give Lucifer the satisfaction. Lucifer dragged up his arms and strapped them into the leather restraints then bent to his ankles. Sam reacted automatically in resistance, even though he knew his small rebellion was going to hurt him. He kicked out at Lucifer, catching his jaw. Lucifer reeled back and then froze for a moment, his hand touching the place Sam had hit. He shook his head and then continued to strap him in before straightening. He looked at Sam for a moment as if appraising him, and then slammed his fist into Sam's jaw. Pain exploded and he felt his teeth mash against his tongue and blood fill his mouth. He knew Lucifer had pulled his punch, as he would have had the power to knock Sam's head from his shoulders if he hadn't, but it still hurt. Sam spat blood to the side and it hit the floor, slick and bright red.
"That was very stupid, Sam," Lucifer said darkly.
Sam glared at him.
"Do you have anything to say to me?"
Sam shook his head. He wouldn't apologize. All he had left was his ability to resist this much, and he would not give Lucifer that along with everything else he'd taken.
Lucifer looked murderous but there were footsteps coming up the stairs from the map room and he quickly waved a hand at Sam. Sam knew from the constriction in his throat that his voice had been stolen again.
Bartholomew appeared and his eyes roved over Sam for a moment, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips.
"What do you think, Bart?" Lucifer asked. "Does he look comfortable?"
"I would have to say no," Bartholomew said.
"Perfect. I don't want him comfortable. Sam and I have history that means he needs to suffer."
Bartholomew nodded.
"Do you have news for me?" Lucifer asked. "Got my prophet yet?"
"No, but the tablets are on their way. I assigned a loyal angel to collect them."
"I thought I told you to do that," Lucifer said, a pinch of displeasure at the corners of his mouth.
"I thought I would be better able to serve you if I was to stay close," he said.
"Probably true," Lucifer said thoughtfully. "And the prophet?"
"We're looking. The generation is depleted because of the war, but we're confident we can find one outside of the confines of the central zones."
"Good. Is there something else you wanted?"
"Just to see if I can serve you in some way," Bartholomew said.
"Nope. I'm good. Sam and I have a busy afternoon planned. We need a little privacy in fact. Leave word that we're not to be disturbed for anything less than a prophet, and I will call when I need you."
Bartholomew bowed his head and disappeared, leaving Sam and Lucifer alone. Sam was already sore from his position on the rack, and he knew from the gleam in Lucifer's eyes that it was about to get worse.
Lucifer drew his blade and pointed it at Sam's shirt. It was ragged from their last private session, with many cuts in the fabric from where Lucifer had sliced at him, but Lucifer seemed to want a clear canvas for his work now as he sliced it along the sleeves and front and them pushed it away from Sam, leaving his chest bare. Sam saw the evidence of Lucifer last play in the cuts to his skin; some of them were reddened and sore, which made Sam think they were developing infections.
"This would all go away if you would just give me the spell," Lucifer said. "We could be back in your world by midnight. We might even be able to scrape enough of your family together for a funeral."
Sam shook his head defiantly. He would never give that up. Lucifer could tear his body apart piece by piece and he would suffer unimaginably, but he would protect his world and its inhabitants from Lucifer. They already had enough to face with Michael there. The havoc Lucifer would cause would be unnecessarily cruel.
Lucifer sighed. "Then you've got to remember this is on you, Sam. Your pain is down to your pigheaded stubbornness."
Sam just looked at him, knowing what was coming but determined to take it without breaking.
"Ready?" Lucifer asked, pressing the tip of the blade to Sam's navel. "Then let us begin."
Sam gritted his teeth and breathed through the pain as Lucifer carved into his flesh, making his jeans damp with his own blood.
Dean had thought he wouldn't sleep, not knowing how he possibly could with the pain he was in and his racing mind, but he did. When he woke in the morning, he immediately felt angry with himself, and guilty. He had been resting while Sam was dead.
When Sam had gone to the Cage, Dean had struggled with sleep so badly Lisa had gotten a prescription for sleeping pills and given them to Dean, knowing that he would never see a doctor himself. For the first month he'd taken them and fallen into a drugged sleep that drove back his dreams, but when they'd run out he'd not asked her to get him more. He'd begun to take his sedative from a whiskey bottle instead, though that had not driven away the dreams. He would see himself in Hell again, presiding over the racks, but each soul that came had his brother's face. He had torn at him and listened to his cries, and though it had hurt him immeasurably, each slash to Sam had been a slash to himself, and he hadn't been able to stop.
He wondered if it was because Sam was at peace this time. He had faith that Sam was in Heaven. Billie had threatened them with the Empty, but she'd also sent that reaper for him. He thought perhaps she'd softened. Maybe the fact Sam was in a world where he didn't belong would have canceled out the debt. Did that world have its own version of Death that knew nothing about Sam's supposed risk? He had to believe it did, that Sam was at peace, as anything else would break his mind apart as well as his soul.
Though he thought there might be some relief in letting go of it all, he knew he couldn't. Michael was in this world, and there were people that needed to be protected. He still had a family, even if a vital piece of it was gone.
He got out of bed and walked to the basin to splash his face with cool water. He looked into the mirror and saw the changed face that he had seen before. It was the face he'd worn when he was battling the Mark of Cain; it was how he looked when he was so full of rage that it threatened to burst out of him at any moment.
He knew he had to do something about it. Rage wasn't going to kill Michael. He'd gone after Metatron with rage, and that had ended with his own death. He had to be smarter this time. He could save anger for when he was alone. The rest of the time he had to be a tactician. That had never been his strength. He was the muscle while Sam was the mind, even though Sam had argued against that many times. He had to be the mind now, too, as there was no Sam to balance him.
As he wiped at his face with a towel, he saw the evidence of his destruction the night before. Broken records had slipped out of their sleeves and the card covers were torn and slashed. He kicked them under the bed, not wanting to see them but not having the time or energy to clean them up either.
He walked out of his room and closed the door behind him, and then made his way to the library. It was still early and he was expecting it to be empty, but Bobby was sitting at the table with a bleary-eyed Charlie who was hunched over Sam's old laptop. She was tapping at the keys feverishly, talking to Bobby. "Do you believe they've got WiFi down here? And the speed of this thing. I was still getting used to Vista. This thing has Windows 10! There are apps instead of programs, and don't get me started on the processor."
"I'll try not to," Bobby said dryly.
Dean cleared his throat and they looked up, a guilty expression spreading across Charlie's face at once. Bobby just looked cautious.
"Morning," Dean said to break the awkward moment.
Bobby relaxed, perhaps seeing Dean was in a better state than the night before, and Charlie smiled with her usual brightness.
Dean walked to them and sat down opposite them at the table. "What are you reading?" he asked Bobby.
"A Study Of Archangels," he replied. "Thought there might be something in here about Michael. These Men of Whatever were pretty damn smart. How did they study archangels when none of them stepped foot on earth in Millennia until 2005?"
"No idea," Dean said. "Seems like they researched everything."
Bobby nodded. "I've never seen so many books in one place that I want to read. I feel like a kid in a candy store."
Dean remembered Sam's face the day he'd caught sight of the library for the first time, the way his eyes lit up with the gleam they always had when he was excited. Dean had accused him of geeking out, but he'd been pleased really. Sam had deserved a win after they'd lost Henry.
"What about you, Charlie?" he asked.
Charlie bit her lip nervously. "I'm doing something for Mary and Jack."
Dean felt a surge of anger that he tried to beat down. Whatever job they'd set her up with, it had to be something to do with Sam. "What do they want?"
"They want me to find a dreamwalker. Jack says he can create a rift if he knows where to open it."
"Give it up," Dean said.
"I told them I'd…" Charlie broke off as Dean's expression darkened.
"Stop," he said. "There's no point. All we're going to do by opening a door to that world is let an army of angels slip into this one, not to mention Lucifer if he's still alive. It's not going to help Sam, and he wouldn't want more trouble for this world. Tell them whatever you like, but stop. You don't want to be responsible for bringing more danger to this world, believe me. I've been there."
Charlie closed the laptop. "Okay," she said quietly.
"Thanks," Dean said.
He was pleased he'd reached her. His Charlie would have done whatever she could to help, too. She had died trying to save Dean, but she wouldn't have knowingly risked the world to help. She'd been smarter than that.
"Maybe you should get some shuteye," Bobby said to her. "You've been at that all night."
"Sure. Okay," Charlie said.
She got to her feet and patted Bobby's shoulder and then walked from the room.
Bobby closed his book and looked at Dean. The expression he wore now, the way he looked when he was ready to say something that wasn't going to get a good reaction, was achingly familiar.
"Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but why are you so sure Sam's dead?" he asked. "Seems to me Mary and Jack made good points."
Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I just know he is. I can't explain it, but I know it. He has to be dead."
Bobby looked confused, but he didn't push for more.
Dean changed the subject to the more pressing issue they had. "Michael is here now," he said.
"He is," Bobby agreed.
"How did you handle him in your world?"
Bobby ran a hand through his beard. "Honestly, we didn't. We just avoided him. If you were unlucky enough to see him, it was the last thing you saw. He didn't let people live. We heard plenty about him from the other angels, they were real proud to serve him and we even captured a few to interrogate, but mostly it was just boogeyman stories."
"We're going to have to face him here," Dean said. "We can't let him destroy our world, too."
"I agree," Bobby said. "And this time I think we have a chance with Jack. He's damn powerful, and I saw that power growing in our world."
"Yeah, the lore said he'd get more powerful over time."
"And he was determined to do it," Bobby added. "I think if he'd just had a chance in our world, he would have done it. We've got to find Michael first though. He has to be leaving signs. I'm not talking about omens, but he's not going to be quiet. We usually had an idea of where he'd been in our world at first, because destruction followed him."
Dean considered. If Michael was ready to create another hell on this world, he would make noise like Lucifer had.
"How did it happen in your world?" he asked. "When it started I mean. Did the world go to hell fast, or was there build up?"
"It happened pretty quick, but not overnight. The battle came first. It started with a hurricane in Kansas, the eye of it was over a place called Stull, and it spread across the state. We think it ended over Abilene as there was a big-ass storm circle there that we think was Lucifer actually biting the dust. The whole area became the Great Barren Plains in the end.
"The disappearances started next. When Michael came to earth, he brought a lot of angels with him, and they needed vessels. There were suddenly missing persons reports all over. And that was the ones that were willing. When the angels ran out of devout that would give it all up, they turned their attention to other potentials. They threatened family members of the vessels, killing them if they still didn't get consent. The weird murders seemed to keep doubling. The cops were at a loss, and the media were shouting about a cult of serial killers crisscrossing the country."
"That's not going to help us," Dean said. "We've only got a handful of angels left in our world, and they're doing their best just to keep the lights on in Heaven. They'll be no use to him."
"He's going to need something else then. He'll want troops. We had our own, armies of humans, but we were pretty much wiped out."
"Do you think he'd use Demons? We've got plenty of them."
"I wouldn't think so. He went to war with them in our world. That was what caused the real destruction. A hell gate opened in Montana and the demons spilled out with Azazel at the head. Every human that lived there was either taken as a meatsuit or killed in the shockwave. The only demons left were the tempters, and they were nasty sons of bitches. They could tackle an angel pretty neatly. They usually stuck to the Void, the place I first met you, and no one went there by choice. I was there as I heard about some refugees coming from the Northern Ice Fields, but by the time I found them, they were already dead."
"You think he'll go to war with demons again?" Dean asked.
"I don't know. It would be time-consuming for him to do it alone. He can only kill so many at a time. Honestly, I don't know what he'll do. He's definitely got fewer options here than he had in our world. Maybe he'll just be satisfied with living in this place."
"You really think so?" Dean asked, not believing it himself.
Bobby shook his head. "No. I really don't. I know he's less of a threat here though, as he doesn't have his army."
"What about the rest of your world?" Dean asked. "Did Michael take it all?"
"We don't know. Before communication broke down there were rumors of things happening overseas, disappearances and storms. Canada was destroyed along with the States, We…" He sighed. "I don't know. We always hoped there was still a world out there beyond the Southern Wall, but that was probably because we wanted to. I never saw the wall. That was a basically suicide mission; the angels guarding it were ruthless. I don't see Michael leaving the rest of the world to live when he could destroy it as easily as he had North America."
Dean felt the same. Michael wouldn't stop when there was more territory to be gained, more people that he could kill. If he was working from the same plan here, it meant the whole world was in danger again. He'd faced it before, more than once, but then he'd had Sam with him. How was he supposed to do it alone?
"There were over three-hundred-million people in the US alone when Lucifer rose, maybe thirty million in Canada, and there are just a few thousand of us left now spread across the two countries. They hit us hard. I don't want to see that happen here, too, so I'm with you for whatever you're planning. But I don't know what good I'll be. I'm just an old hunter that learned what you probably already know about angels from all the times you've tangled with them."
"You're more than that," Dean said. "You created a resistance in that world. You created bullets that could kill angels. And if you're anything like our Bobby, you're a hero."
Bobby shrugged. "I did what I had to do."
"So did our Bobby, and he was the best hunter I ever knew."
Bobby smiled slightly. "He sounds like a good guy."
"He really was. I miss him more than ever now."
His Bobby would understand how Dean felt now that Sam was gone. He'd seen what Lucifer had done to him before, and he would know why Dean had to believe he was dead. Dean and Castiel would have a little support."
Bobby cleared his throat roughly. "Well, I don't know how like him I really am, but I'll do what I can. I think your first step is to talk to your boy Jack though."
Dean nodded. "I will."
"He was in the kitchen with your mom earlier."
Dean thanked him and stood and headed to the kitchen. He wanted to get Jack locked into the plan fast so they were ready when it was time.
He heard Jack's voice before he reached the kitchen, and Mary answering him.
"Do you think it will take Charlie long?"
"I don't know," Mary replied. "I hope not. We need to get him out of there."
Dean felt a wave of the anger that he'd suppressed talking to Bobby rising in him again. The fact they wouldn't accept the truth was like someone squeezing his heart. Their denial made it hard for him to deal with it. They needed to accept the truth.
He marched into the kitchen and Mary broke off mid-sentence. They were sitting at the table and they followed him with their eyes as he walked into the room.
"Charlie is off the case," he said curtly.
Mary gasped. "What? Why?"
"Because it's a waste of time and we need her to focus on finding Michael."
"It's not a waste of time!" Mary said angrily.
Dean held up a hand to her and addressed Jack. "We're going to be looking for Michael, and we need you on the top of your game when it's time."
"I will kill him," Jack vowed.
Mary shook her head. "Jack's untested against Michael."
"He's going to stay untested until we try," Dean said. "Michael is here now. Sam and I spent all these years saving the world. I am not letting it be destroyed now he's gone. I owe him better than that."
All Dean could do for Sam now was protect his legacy. It was all that was left of who he had been.
"I can do it," Jack said determinedly.
"We don't know that," Mary said
Jack shook his head and stared Dean in the eye. "I can. Just find him and I'll do it."
"We're going to be looking," Dean said. "Charlie's sleeping right now since you had her chasing shadows online all night, but when she's up, she's going to start looking."
Mary jumped to her feet, letting the chair fall back onto the floor. "She wasn't chasing shadows! She was finding us a way to Sam!"
Dean raked a hand over his face. "You've got to let this go."
"You expect me to let my son go?"
"He's already gone!" Dean said, his hands fisting. "You just need to accept it. Opening a rift is just going to give the crazy angels there a chance to come to this world, too. Sam is past saving."
"He's not!" Mary's voice rose to a shout.
Dean spoke quietly, barely holding in his anger. "I know you 'feel' he's alive, but I know the truth because the way I feel is the same way I felt when he died in my arms. You need to accept that or it will drive you mad."
Mary's eyes filled with tears, but Dean didn't know whether they were from anger or sadness. "I am not giving up on him, Dean. He's my son."
"And he's my brother," Dean said. "That's how I know you're wrong. Sam is gone, and that's better for him."
"He's better dead?" Jack asked. "I don't understand."
"You wouldn't," Dean said. "You were not here for it. You didn't see what happened." He looked from Jack to Mary and said. "Leave Charlie out of this. She has more important things to do than to help you doom the world."
Mary's mouth dropped open. "I'm not…"
Dean held up a hand. "You are, you just don't know it. It's a Winchester trait. Neither me nor Sam knew we were either."
He turned away from her and walked from the room, trying to calm his heart that felt like it was beating against his ribs, to stop himself going back and shouting at them for making this harder with their denial.
"What does he mean?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Mary said. "But I'm going to find out."
Dean smiled grimly. She wasn't. The story of their failures belonged to him and Sam. She didn't need to know.
So… Sam is back in the bunker. I think that was probably one of the cruelest things Lucifer could have done to him—destroying his sanctuary. That's going to have lasting consequences in the story later.
WANTED: I need your help (again). If any of you have any prompts hanging around or ideas for a story you'd like to see, please let me know. I can't promise to write them all but I need something for a Big Bang I am planning to do — or before if I can't use a prompt the challenge, I'm not sure yet. Either way it works out, if you have an idea you'd like to share, I'd love to see it.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx