AN: Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.
Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Stairway to Heaven — Chapter Ten
When Sam wakes the next morning, Lucifer is sitting at the desk. Sam starts as he catches sight of him.
"Good morning," Lucifer says.
Sam nods. "Is there a reason you are watching me sleep?"
"Is this another of those personal space things?"
Sam chuckles. "Definitely. And I ask again, why are you watching me sleep?"
Lucifer looks apologetic. "I wanted to speak to you."
Sam pushes his hair out of his face and looks to the fallen angel to speak.
"I have to go away for a while," Lucifer says. "There are... things that I must attend to."
Things like raising horsemen and ending the world, Sam thinks.
It's not just the news that Lucifer is going to wreak havoc that bothers him, though he tells himself it is, the truth is that he doesn't want Lucifer to go and leave him alone with only his demons for company.
"You are unhappy," Lucifer says, looking oddly pleased about that fact. "Why?"
"How long are you going for?" Sam asks in response.
"I don't know. Perhaps a week. Now, tell me why you are unhappy."
Sam sighs. "Because I am going to be stuck here with your demons."
Lucifer looks disappointed. "I am sorry for it. If it would make you more comfortable, I can instruct them to keep their distance. You need only speak with them when you want to."
"That's easy enough. I will never want to talk to them," Sam says bitterly.
"You have my word that they will leave you in peace. Now, I must be leaving. Is there anything you need before I go?"
"Money," Sam says. "Unless you're telling me I can go hustle pool to get some."
"I don't think that's wise. You could become embroiled in trouble. I know how fickle humans can be over money." Lucifer reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a roll of bills. "Will this be enough?"
It's enough cash to last Sam and Dean for weeks without fake credit cards. It will definitely be enough to tide him over for a week on diner food.
"It's plenty," Sam says. "Thanks, Lucifer."
Lucifer smiles. "I should leave now." He looks reluctant though.
"You probably should," Sam says. "I need to shower."
Lucifer nods. "If you need me, pray."
Sam thinks it's odd that a fallen angel is asking him to pray, but he doesn't comment.
One moment Lucifer is looking at Sam with an unnamable expression, the next he is gone and Sam is alone in the room.
Sam flops back against the pillows and relishes the solitude for a moment. He has a whole week of his own company ahead of him. He never thought he would feel so relieved to have time alone. He wishes Dean was there to enjoy the time, and then he sees the contradiction. He needs to learn to be alone properly, as he has a feeling that as Lucifer's plans draw to a close he is going to grow used to his own company.
He pushes back the blankets and heads to the shower, thinking that he will get his routine over with and then head out to the diner for breakfast.
He makes quick work of showering and changing, and soon he is walking down the stairs and out of the hotel. He doesn't see anyone following him, but he feels them. He supposes it was too much for the demons to allow him to wander freely about the town.
When he gets to the diner and sinks down into his booth, he is greeted by the same gum-popping waitress as the day before.
"Where's your friend?" she asks. Sam looks blankly at her for a moment and she elucidates. "The guy in the green shirt.
Sam smiles. "He's out of town for a few days."
She sighs. "Pity. He sure was hot."
Sam turns his laugh into a cough. It's surreal to think of anyone thinking of Lucifer as hot. In the literal sense, Sam has noticed that Lucifer seems to be colder than most people. It's like sitting close to an air conditioner unit sometimes.
"So, what can I get you?" she asks
"A coffee, please, and a short stack." The pancakes had been good the day before. Also, it was Dean's favorite, and Sam is clinging to anything of his brother that he can get.
The waitress walks away, and Sam looks around the diner. There are only a couple of tables filled. An elderly couple are eating together but not talking. It doesn't seem like that silence of animosity, more that they have been together so long that words are not necessary to communicate.
Sam watches them for a moment, his thoughts drifting to Jess. She was the first and last woman he had ever truly loved. He had once hoped of having that future with her. That was all ashes now, and Sam didn't think he would ever have that future. It remained to be seen if anyone would have that future anymore. Sam didn't know Lucifer's plans, but he doubted lazy breakfasts in diners for couples were a part of it.
The waitress comes back over, and she sets a mug and plate down in front of him. She watches as Sam doctors his coffee and takes a bite of the pancakes.
"It's good," he says, wondering what she is waiting for.
"I'm Shirley," she says.
"Sam."
She nods as if she is expecting more, but Sam fails to deliver.
"So," she twirls a strand of hair around her finger, "I was thinking. My shift's over in a few hours, and there's a bar near here..."
Sam raises an eyebrow. Is he being hit on while he tries to eat his breakfast? It seems too bizarre, but as she pulls the elastic out of her hair and shakes her blonde curls over her shoulders he thinks that must be it. He tries not to laugh.
"I'm afraid I'm busy today," he says.
She pouts. "You can't get out of it?"
"No," he says firmly, forking up another mouthful of pancakes. "But thanks."
She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then she claps a hand to her forehead. "Oh, I get it. Sorry."
"What do you get?" Sam's brow creases in confusion.
"You and your friend, you're together, right?"
Sam chokes on his mouthful. Coughing harshly, he tries to speak. "No, definitely not."
"You sure?"
Sam nods, massaging his aching chest. "Yeah, I'm sure."
"Then what's the problem?" she asks.
Sam merely looks at her. She can't possibly be so arrogant to believe he must be gay because he's not interested in hooking up with her, can she?
Just then, a voice calls out from the counter. "Shirley, if you're not too busy flirting, these meals need serving."
Shirley gives Sam one last assessing glance, and then she turns and walks back to the counter.
Sam's appetite is gone. He pushes away his plate and tosses a couple of bills down to cover his tab and Shirley's tip, not that she really earned herself one.
When Sam gets back to his room, he notices right away how empty it is. He walks over to the bed and grabs the remote, turning on the TV. Kicking his shoes off, he flops down on the bed and sees what's on. He finds himself drawn to the news. He wonders if he can pin down Lucifer's presence in the stories. There is nothing of interest though, and so he flicks it off and goes to the laptop.
He takes a seat at the desk while the computer begins to load. Once it's up, he goes to Google and begins searching for patterns in the news. Anything that might clue him into Lucifer's whereabouts. He doesn't see anything.
Sighing, he rakes a hand through his hair and pushes himself back from the desk. He gets up and begins to pace the room. It seems all too big now that there is no one there to share it with.
He thinks of going out, to the park or something, and then he remembers the fallout from his last trip to the park, and it sours his mood.
Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family sweep through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives.
He throws himself down on the bed and covers his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curls up on the bed and closes his eyes. Sleep doesn't find him easily though and he spends most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He wakes more than once in a cold sweat.
When the first rays of morning light shine in through the window, Sam groans and covers his head with a pillow.
As he lays there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realizes he needs to do something. He can't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him is fighting, for good or bad.
Knowing Chuck is watching, and therefore Dean, he pushes himself up out of bed and prepares for another day,
He showers and dresses and then settles himself down at the desk. Booting up his laptop, he taps his fingers against his leg as he waits for it to load. When he has a webpage open, he types in the address for one of his favorite news sites. It's a little eclectic, dealing with alien abductions and crop circles as much as real news, but he has found clues for cases there before. Halfway down the page he finds something hopeful. There has been an animal mauling in Bloomington, Indiana. He pulls up the local police department's records and hacks his way through their joke of a firewall. Soon, he has the report open, and he sees the telltale sign of supernatural: a missing heart.
He claps his hands and raises his eyes. "Chuck, I hope you're watching this, buddy. Tell Dean to check out the news for Bloomington, Indiana. I think we have a werewolf." He considers for a moment. "And, Chuck, tell them I'm okay."
xXx
It catches Sam off guard when he sees it. It's the second day since Lucifer left. He is in a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greets him: A TOWN IN MOURNING. Below the headline, there is a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picks up the paper and skims the article. It's announcing the funeral.
Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white newsprint affects Sam, and he finds himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asks the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raises an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he doesn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam's clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel.
When he gets inside his room, he kicks off his shoes and goes to the small counter to get a glass. He pours the amber liquid and slugs it back in one swallow. It burns his throat and makes him gasp, but it feels good. It's something to ground him in the present rather than letting his mind wander back to recent events.
The second glass goes down smoother and the third smoother still. By the time half the bottle is gone, Sam is no longer bothering with a glass. He's necking it from the bottle.
That begins the days of drinking and attempting to forget.
xXx
"Meg!" Sam bellows from the doorway.
Meg appears and her nose wrinkles in disgust. She looks Sam up and down. "You bellowed."
"I need a drink," Sam says.
"I would have thought you'd had enough already."
Sam attempts to focus on her; it's hard as the alcohol is muddling his mind. "I didn't ask your opinion, Meg. I just said I needed a drink. Now, off you go." He waves a hand at her.
Meg visibly pales. "I'm not saying this because I care, because I truly don't, but don't you think you've had enough? Lucifer will be back tomorrow, and he's not going to be pleased if you're dead of alcohol poisoning."
Sam hiccups. "He'll just bring me back."
Meg scowls at him. "Fine, I'll get you a drink, but you have to do something for me in return."
Sam looks confused. "What do you want?"
"I want you to shower your grungy ass."
Sam throws back his head and laughs. "Sure, I'll shower. Gotta look good for when the Devil returns." That said, he slams the door shut in her face and plods back to the bed where he falls face down onto the mattress.
Some small vestige of normal behavior remains, and he realizes Chuck would be watching all of this. He raises his head and stares blearily at the opposite wall. "It's not what it looks like, Dean. Honest."
xXx
Sam rolls out of bed around noon the next day. He feels terrible. When he drags himself into the bathroom and examines himself in the mirror above the sink, he sees that he looks terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighs. He hasn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thinks back over the last seven days, and he curses himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too.
He turns on the shower and steps under the scorching spray of water. He feels grimy and disgusting. He can't remember the last time he showered or shaved. Judging by the scruff along his jawline, it's been a few days.
When he finally feels clean again, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. Standing at the sink, he shaves, and then he brushes his teeth. He looks much better, even if he doesn't particularly feel it.
He walks back into the bedroom and pulls on a clean set of clothes. He notes the mess he has made of his room in the last week. The floor is strewn with clothes and there are empty bottles of whiskey dotted around the room. He gathers up his clothes and stuffs them into the laundry bag. Then he picks up the empty bottles and carries them to the door.
"Meg," he calls.
She appears at the door a moment later. "Winchester."
"Can you get rid of these for me?" he asks.
She blinks slowly. "That was almost polite. What's wrong with you? You look different." She taps a hand on her chin. "I know what it is! You're sober. How does it feel to be back among the living?"
Sam scowls at her. "Will you do it or not?"
"I'll do it," she says, taking the bottles from him. "But don't confuse this with me actually caring."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Not a chance."
He closes the door and goes back to the desk. He doesn't know what time Lucifer will be back, so he rallies for something to do to kill the time. He doesn't feel like eating. Though, he's not sure when he last ate a proper meal. Maybe when Lucifer gets back they could go out to the diner.
He turns on the laptop and searches the police reports from Bloomington to see if there is any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf.
He skims through a report and spots something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evokes. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation.
It has to be Dean and Cas. The thought makes him happy and sad in equal measure. He's happy because Dean is out there fighting still, and he got the message, but he's sad because it is Cas working with Dean and not him. It makes him feel a pang of hurt to know that he's been replaced, but he knows it's for the best. It's not like he's going to be back in the game anytime soon.
He slams the laptop shut and strides back to the bed. Perching on the edge, he settles down to wait for Lucifer's return.
The shadows lengthen and the sun sinks and still Sam waits. When full dark comes, Sam gets to his feet and grabs his jacket. If he hurries, he can get to the store before it closes.
xXx
Lucifer hates being delayed, but raising horsemen takes a lot more work that you would imagine, even for him.
It's two weeks after he left Sam in the hotel that he returns, though to him it feels much longer. He has been frustrated by all the delays, and he has wanted to get back to Sam. Finally, after days of facilitating the horseman's whims and needs, he is free to return.
He's surprised to see Meg standing outside Sam's room when he arrives in the early hours of the morning.
He raises an eyebrow. "Are you bothering him again, Meg?"
Meg shakes her head. "I'm just making sure he doesn't go for a stroll in his shorts again."
Lucifer looks confused. "A stroll in his what?"
"Boxer shorts," she says casually. "He got it into his head a couple of nights ago that he needed air. He forgot to dress himself first, though."
Lucifer rubs a hand over his face. "Why do I get the feeling I am missing something vital here?"
Meg gives him a truncated account of what Sam has been doing for the last two weeks, including the alcohol binges, picking fights with demons, and his lack of personal hygiene. That seems to bother Meg more than anything.
Lucifer frowns as he listens. "Why would he do this?" he asks.
"It looks to me like he's having what humans call a nervous breakdown. He's never been the most stable of humans."
Lucifer ignores the slight criticism of Sam. He thinks she may have a point.
"Very well," he says. "I shall go to him."
Lucifer opens the door and steps inside. What he sees, shocks him. It stops him dead in his tracks. Sam is perched against the headboard of the unmade bed. The room is filled with empty bottles of various liquors, but predominantly whiskey. Lucifer's nose wrinkles as he smells the air. He now knows what Meg was talking about when she mentioned his personal hygiene. The room smells like old whiskey and sick. Somehow, Sam has managed to take the luxurious room and lower it to the standards of the motel they had recently vacated.
Sam is in pajama pants and a dirty white tee, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looks over to Lucifer and blinks.
Lucifer studies him for a moment, his beard is unshaven and his hair is unwashed and hanging in strings around his face.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Sam says, tipping his bottle back and taking swig.
"Sam," Lucifer greets with a nod. "I see you have found a way to pass the time."
Sam hiccups and takes another drink. "Yep."
Lucifer tilts his head to the side. "I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day."
Sam laughs. "Well, how does it feel to be wrong?" He takes another drink.
Lucifer shakes his head. There is something almost endearing about a drunk Sam.
"I am merely trying to help you, Sam."
"Maybe I don't want help… Maybe I just want to forget."
"Forget what?"
Sam swirls the contents of the bottle, watching it as he does. He looks up at Lucifer. "Maybe I just want to forget it all."
Lucifer nods. "I'm sorry you feel that way. May I ask what happened to bring you to this state?"
Sam swallows and hiccups again. "Their funeral was last week."
Lucifer's brow furrows and he tries to think. He's not sure who … and then it hits him. Sam is talking about the Miller family. He's talking about Sarah. It all begins to make sense now.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Lucifer says as he walks to the bed and takes a seat beside Sam. "That must be difficult for you."
Sam goes to take another swig of whiskey but Lucifer reaches out and places his hand on Sam's, stopping him. "No more, Sam."
Sam pauses and looks down at Lucifer's hand. An unreadable expression crosses Sam features and then it's gone.
He shakes off Lucifer's hand like it burned him, and Lucifer can't help but feel a pang of hurt at the loss of contact.
Sam doesn't take another drink, though, which Lucifer is thankful for, as he can tell Sam's already had way too much.
Sam looks down at his hands, which are both now clutching the bottle. "Where were you?"
"Not far. I told you, I am always only a prayer away. Why didn't you call for me?"
Sam shrugs, eyes downcast. "I thought I could handle it. I thought… I guess I was wrong."
"You thought what, Sam?"
"I thought you would come back, but you didn't."
Sam's words hurt Lucifer. He regrets being gone so long, especially now that's it's clear that Sam needed him. "I'm here now," he says, hoping his words bring comfort to Sam.
Sam nods and looks up at him. "Yeah, I guess." Sam sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. "I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty. I killed that family, Lucifer. Maybe not with my own hands, but I put them all in that car. My actions, no one else's."
Lucifer wishes there was something he could say to soothe Sam, but he falls short. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. You tried to get me out of there."
Lucifer looks at Sam and sees the wetness forming in his eyes. "It's not fair," Sam says.
"No it's not." Lucifer takes the bottle from Sam's grasp and sets it down on the nightstand. "But you can't lose yourself to the pain like this. Think of Dean, think of your family. You have so much and yet you don't see it."
A tear trickles down Sam's cheek and he sniffles. "It hurts."
"I know, Sam. I understand," Lucifer says softly. "Why don't you go shower and change? You'll feel better for it."
Sam wipes the tears from his eyes and nods. Lucifer stands and watches as Sam pushes himself from the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He makes his way to the bathroom and closes the door.
Lucifer takes a deep breath and sighs, looking around the room. He has his work cut out for him.
AN: Thank you all so much for the love you keep giving us. It really keeps us going.