SPN

Considering the relentless deluge of ice-cold water, it should have been difficult to observe anything around him, but in the confines of a supernatural dream, Sam had no trouble watching his two enemies confront each other. Lucifer wore a playful smile; Sam's alter ego, a suspicious scowl. They carefully circled each other, poised to strike, mindless of the captive chained to the chair.

After a few drawn-out moments, he broke the silence. "If you think I'm going to help you occupy my body, you've really lost some brain cells. How hard did Amara hit you?"

"See, that's what I like about you, Sam," the devil replied. "You're so bold. Driven. Fearless."

He scoffed. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Just hear me out," Lucifer implored. "You're a hunter, Sam. The best hunter to ever live. Even without your soul, you made it your personal mission to protect humankind from all the ghosts and monsters and demons of the world. It's in your nature. And while it's true, you had to kill a few civilians every once in awhile, you did it for the greater good. In the grand scheme of things, don't you think saving hundreds of lives is worth sacrificing five or ten?"

He rolled his eyes. "Is there a point to all this?"

"I'm burning through vessels! I can't help it. I'm an archangel and humans are so fragile. They're dying, Sam, and more will continue to die if you don't do something." He paused, frowning thoughtfully. Lucifer closed in, gripping his shoulders. "Come on, Sam. Give yourself some credit. You're strong. You beat me before. Maybe you can do it again. There's only one way to find out. Think of all the lives you'll save. You're the only one—the only one short of Chuck—who stands a chance against me. You're not a coward, Sam. You know it's the right thing to do. You just have to accept it."

Sam could see the temptation on his alter ego's face. He was actually listening! Sam moaned through the gag in his mouth and tugged against his restraints. They bit into his wrists, refusing to let go, and the more he struggled, the more attention he attracted. Lucifer and his alter ego both glanced at him, expressions cruel.

"There's just one flaw in your little plan," he eventually told the devil. "It doesn't matter what I think. I can't let you in. You need my soul's consent. Not mine."

Lucifer feigned a grimace despite his amusement. "Oh, I know!" he whined. "That's always been our number-one obstacle. Your soul will never cease to reject me. But you want to know why? It's not because he hates me. Oh, no. He'd give his life to fight me; we all know that. It's because he doubts you. I mean, he's the only human in all of history with the experience to subdue me—to vanquish me!—and he won't even try because, after everything you've been through, he still doubts you're strong enough to win, and he won't take that risk." Lucifer smirked at the growing contempt on his face. "Care to show him who's boss?"

Sam shrank in his seat, twisting his wrists with renewed desperation. He was already so cold, his nerves were screaming at him. How would he endure more abuse? His captors turned to tower over him. His heart was hammering in his chest. He could barely breathe. Lucifer reached down to brush the wet hair out of his face with perverse affection, and he flinched at the devil's touch.

His alter ego sneered, extracting a knife—Ruby's knife—from inside his jacket. "You were always pathetic, Sam, but this is beneath even you." Oblivious to the freezing shower, he closed in, seizing Sam's jaw and pressing the blade against his cheek. Meanwhile, Lucifer edged out of the way, creeping behind Sam where he could pet his arm and still enjoy the show.

"If we let him in, we can trap him," his alter ego growled. "We can find a way to dump him back in the cage. We have Rowena's magic and the book of the damned on our side. There's nothing we can't accomplish!"

Sam tried to argue. He tried to point out that Lucifer would never kindle their self-confidence if he seriously considered them a threat. Sam could not compete against the devil, especially without demon blood, and if he surrendered, he'd be overwhelmed. A prisoner inside his own body till the end of time. Why couldn't his alter ego understand? If they agreed, they'd be giving Lucifer exactly what he wanted, and the rest of the world would be screwed! Sam tried to warn him—he was letting the devil manipulate him! But the gag in his mouth smothered his words, and they came out muffled. Unavailing.

Of course, that didn't keep his alter ego from sensing his refusal. He narrowed his eyes, aggressively releasing Sam's jaw to straighten himself up. His lip curled, and then, he brutally back-handed Sam across the face, right over the cut on his cheek. Sam's head whipped to the side, ears ringing. He felt Lucifer behind him, caressing his arm, and shuddered, helpless to protect himself. If only…

If only… what?

If only he had someone watching his back. Someone he could depend on to save him.

A face began to surface in his mind, but when he tried to focus on it, it slipped away. He was alone.

"You know what, Sam?" his alter ego criticized. "I've had it with your misgivings. You hold us back. You make us weak. Maybe it's time I put you in your place." He brandished the knife and abruptly slammed it down, stabbing Sam's leg directly on the bullet wound. Sam howled, bucking in agony as blood mixed with water.

"Thatta boy," Lucifer crooned, wrapping an arm around Sam's chest while resting his chin on his shoulder. "There's the Sam I love so much!"

Sam's stomach turned.

His alter ego gave the knife a vicious twist, and the pain was blinding. Sam thrashed in Lucifer's arms, terrified and frantic. When his alter ego finally yanked the blade from his flesh, he screamed, much to the bastard's delight. "Better brace yourself, Sam. I'm just warming up."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman armed with a rifle appeared by the stairs behind Sam's alter ego. Blonde and petite, she looked vaguely familiar with a harsh expression on her pale face.

Caught by surprise, Lucifer sprang upright, which startled Sam's alter ego. He turned to follow the devil's gaze, but the woman took preemptive measures by smashing the barrel against his head. He went down hard, instantly unconscious.

"Now what do we have here?" the devil muttered as the woman squared off against him. "Mary Winchester? Dream-walking? I have to say, I'm impressed."

She aimed the rifle. "Let him go."

"Well, you see, I would… but he's mine. You sold him to me forty-three years ago, before he was even born."

Clenching her jaw, she fired, shooting him right in the head. The impact knocked him backwards, and he hit the ground. Shaking, Sam glanced over his shoulder to see him sprawled out on the floor, groaning, dazed but alive. By the time he glanced back around, the woman—Mary, his mother—was already crouching in front of him. Ignoring the shower, she pulled the cloth out of his mouth. "Sammy? Baby, listen to me. You're dreaming. We're inside your mind. Not Lucifer's mind. Your mind. You're in control here. I don't care how powerful he is. You can fight him!"

Sam's teeth were chattering, and he shook his head. "No…"

Lucifer recovered quickly, sitting up with a grimace on his face. Sam glanced back at him, watching in alarm as he clambered to his feet. "What the hell do you have in that rifle?"

She straightened up, swiftly taking aim. "I've seen Castiel's angel blade. Figured the metal would make good ammo. And since we're in a dream, anything's possible."

Lucifer chuckled, waving his hand to rip the weapon from her grasp. It flew to the side of the room, where it landed harmlessly on the ground. Mary stiffened, making a move to retrieve it, but Lucifer cut her off.

"Uh-uh-uh…" He held up a finger, warning her back.

Sam caught his breath, recognizing the malicious glint in his eyes. This was bad. He squirmed in his seat, whimpering as Lucifer made his approach. "Mom…"

"I'm glad you came, Mary," the devil professed, transforming from Nick back into Sam's father. "I've been so eager to meet you." Mary faltered at the sight of her dead husband.

"You bastard…"

He grinned, bearing down on her. "What? You don't think it's appropriate?" He grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard. She gasped, reaching her hands up to grapple with his fingers, but failed to pry them off.

"NO!" Sam shouted, struggling with his restraints. The chair rocked precariously, but the shackles held fast. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Without missing a beat, Lucifer tossed Mary into the stairs with enough force to send her crashing through them. As wooden planks collapsed on top of her, Lucifer spun around to face Sam. "What's it going to be, big guy? You can either say yes, or you can sit there and watch while I violate your mom."

"DON'T!" Sam's wide-eyed gaze flicked from Lucifer to Mary, who somehow managed to shake off the rubble and climb to her feet. Gripping a knife, she launched herself at Lucifer. He sensed her attack and turned, batting her arm away and punching her in the face. She stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. Unfortunately, Lucifer didn't give her time to rebound. He seized her arm and wrenched it behind her back, stealing her knife while catching her in a tight embrace. Suddenly, he seemed twice her size, swallowing her up in his arms. She shrieked, writhing against him, but he was an angel, and she was just a human. He laughed, discarding the knife while leaning over her shoulder to lick her face.

"NO! STOP!" Sam flushed, despite the freezing shower. "PLEASE!"

Lucifer spared him a brief glance. "You know what you have to do, Sam. A simple yes, and I'll leave your mom alone. I promise."

"Sam, don't!" Mary objected. "You can fight this!"

"You can fight, but you can't win," Lucifer retorted. "And the more you try, the worse it'll be. Say yes, Sam."

He shook his head, heart pounding. "No…"

Disapproval darkened his father's face. "Have it your way." He roughly dropped Mary to the floor. She rolled onto her back, scooting away from him in obvious dread. He grabbed her ankles and dragged her so she was directly in front of Sam's chair. "How about it, doll? Shall we try some of your little boy's favorite moves?"

She glanced around in search of her fallen knife—it was only a few feet away. She made a grab for it, but Lucifer flicked his wrist, and it skated out of reach. Then, he was on top of her, straddling her waist and pinning her to the ground. She tried jabbing him off, but he easily caught her wrists and held them in a single hand. "Did you really think you could waltz in here and fight me? Me? Do you have any idea who I am?"

She spat in his face, which only made him laugh. A moment later, he was leaning down, kissing her firmly on the mouth.

Sam thrashed against his restraints. "NO! STOP IT!" The chair tipped, toppling over, and he landed on his side, hitting his head on the hard floor. Stars danced in front of him, and he groaned, unable to move. When his vision cleared, he found—to his horror—that his new vantage point gave him a better view of his mom's predicament. They were on the same level, and he could see her face beneath Lucifer's. He could see her panic. "Stop… Please…"

But Lucifer would never stop. His lips were slowly traveling from her mouth across her cheek toward her ear, and Sam knew—he just knew—that Lucifer would bite it off. All part of the foreplay. He couldn't watch this. Not this. "Okay… OKAY!"

Lucifer paused while Mary squirmed beneath him. They both turned their heads to stare at Sam.

"That's it," the devil coaxed. "You're almost there, Sammy. You just have to say it."

"No…" Mary whimpered, tears in her eyes. "Baby, no…"

Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Saying 'yes' went against everything he believed in, but at this point, he would rather die than refuse. He couldn't watch Lucifer torment his mom.

As he grappled with indecision, he gradually became aware of a strange voice chanting in the distance. It sounded… Enochian.

The hell…?

Lucifer sat up sharply, hearing it too. They glanced around the room, searching for its source, but there was no one else in the basement. Lucifer scowled. "What is that?"

The chanting grew louder. More distinct.

Suddenly, Sam opened his eyes and found himself back in the bunker library, sprawled out on the floor.

He gasped, shivering despite the warm, dry air—his body was still cold.

"Mom?"

He quickly caught sight of her, lying on the floor three feet away. Her eyes were wide, and she was panting for breath, but other than that, she seemed no worse for wear.

They were home.

Awake.

Safe.

But how?

A pair of footsteps tapped towards him. He sat up, whipping his head around to gawk at a strange dark-haired man in a fancy suit.

"Sam Winchester?" he asked in a sophisticated voice with an English accent. "Arthur Ketch, British Men of Letters, at your service."

Sam blinked, struggling to process this turn of events. He was still shivering, unspeakably cold, and his various injuries made it hard to think. Arthur Ketch? British Men of Letters?

Toni Bevell…

As if on cue, the man produced a gun and aimed it at Sam's head. "Now. I think it's time you start cooperating, so we can deal with your favorite stalker. And for the record, I don't take 'no' for an answer."

SPN

Author's Note: Since the boys had African Dream Root on hand in season 8 during "Pac-Man Fever," I'm assuming they have some in stock at the bunker. And considering how much knowledge the Campbells had, I'm assuming Mary knows how to dream-walk. As always, let me know what you think!

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