Lucifer sat up in bed. His hair was damp with a cold sweat and his sheets were tangled around his legs. His breath came out quick, labored. Lucifer had been dreaming about Sam again. It always felt so real, but this time felt different, like Lucifer could feel the pain Sam had felt.
Lucifer had dreamt that he was in the room with Sam when he was killed. He saw Sam curled up next to the bed with one hand cupped over his shoulder, putting pressure on a bullet wound. The man with the gun had his back to Lucifer, but Lucifer had a sense of familiarity towards the man. He felt like if he saw the man on the street he would walk over and strike up a conversation. Lucifer knew the man, he just didn't know whohe was.
In the dream, the attacker had a gun pointed at Sam's head. Lucifer couldn't move, couldn't scream out for Sam. He couldn't do anything. He felt so useless. Sam let out a scream as a bullet ripped through his stomach. The gun clicked again, but nothing came out. The assailant swore under his breath. He got down on his knees, eye level with Sam. He began to speak to Sam in low whispers and grunts. Every few seconds Sam would nod his head. The other man stood up and stuck out his hand. Sam took it. As he was pulled up by his good hand, Sam let out a breathy moan. The wound in his stomach pulled and blood gushed out. He pulled away from the attacker and put that hand over the wound.
Then everything went wrong. The man with the gun hit Sam hard in the face. Lucifer found his voice. He yelled out for Sam, pushed past the other man. The blood on the floor stained Lucifer's pant legs as he kneeled to hold Sam's face in his hands. But he never made it that far. Before Lucifer could get to Sam, he woke up, covered in sweat, with his heart broken, again. It was a vicious cycle that Lucifer was a part of. Fall asleep, dream about Sam, wake up numb.
But this time something felt different. Lucifer felt the bullet enter his body when the one in the dream had pierced Sam. As Lucifer sat in bed he checked himself over, not knowing what he was looking for. He dragged one hand over his stomach and brought it close to his face. There was nothing on it. Lucifer fell back in bed and closed his eyes, trying not to think about Sam. The street light bled through the window and fell across the space on the bed that Sam used to occupy.
"Yeah, well tough. You're expected to at least show up.You don't have to stay for the whole time, just the first ceremony."
There was a pause.
"Fine," Lucifer growled out.
"Good," the voice on the other end of the phone said, then hung up.
"Damn it," Lucifer said under his breath. He threw the phone on the bed and sat down on the other end. His head hung in his hands as he stared at the ground. The person on the phone was his mother and she had called him to tell him about Castiel's binding ceremony. Lucifer wanted nothing to do with the affair, but due to rules, he was required to attend one of the ceremonies. He was less than thrilled about it.
For the past year Lucifer had done nothing but sulk. Ever since Sam died he had barely taken care of himself. But thank God for Gabriel. Without him, Lucifer probably wouldn't have eaten, slept, or even showered. Gabriel was with him nearly every second of the day making sure he did what he had to.
Now Gabriel was also the reason he was going to Cas' binding ceremony. Once Gabriel was convinced that Lucifer could take care of himself on his own, he left, gave him space. Gabriel knew Lucifer needed it. After that, the two stopped talking. Secretly Lucifer was glad his mother had told him about the ceremony. If she hadn't, he may have never seen Gabriel again.