Disclaimer: I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.
Author's Note: Alright, so I wrote about two pages worth of this chapter before I said to myself, "You know what? I don't want this to happen yet." And so, on that note, I deleted all the work I had strived towards. Fail haha.
Anyhow, for those of you who are enjoying the Sam and Balthial pairing we will see their relationship continue to blossom in a little bit more depth here. I'm so glad you've been as accepting as you have of him, that makes me very happy haha. Enough of me though, let's get on with the story!
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Chapter Ten
The group of demons all crowded around the center point of the room in which they had taken up living in for the time being. Flaura stood in the center, Aamon and Kimaris just slightly off to the side. Across from Flaura, there sat a man who was bound to a wooden chair. He was middle aged, both his wrists and ankles bloody and ragged from his attempts to break free from the ropes which held him in place.
Flaura took a leisurely step forward, smiling sadistically as she placed a hand lightly upon the man's shoulder. He physically trembled at her touch, locking gazes with her black dead stare. "It's okay," she murmured smugly, running a hand roughly through his hair, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
The man just looked up at her, swallowing hard as his stomach continued to tie itself in knots. "What kind of sick people are you?" he spat, fear evident in his voice.
"But that's just it," Flaura retorted, leaning in close to the man's face, "We're not people at all." With this, she simply blinked turning her eyes pitch black. Almost as if on cue, all others mimicked the same action, shiny coal eyes all focused on their terrified captive. Flaura turned away smiling, pulling a long dagger from the inner pocket of her jacket. The man's breath increased, as if preparing for a scream. With one swift turn, however Flaura plunged the dagger into the center of the man's throat watching in delight as a thick trail of crimson began to pour from the fresh wound. Aamon quickly handed her a marble goblet in which she placed until the quickly seeping injury and collected a fair amount of the poor man's blood.
Flaura's heels clicked on the cement of the floor as she stepped away from wear the man sat and over to a carefully drawn symbol upon the floor. Raising a single hand upward she titled the chalice to the side, watching almost in awe as the crimson river spilt out of its confinements. The blood made a loud trickling sound as it splattered against the floor, its droplets spread out at first quickly absorbing together into one large puddle. Flaura took a step back, her eyes lighting up as white began to emulate from the center of the blood. It grew brighter and brighter with each passing second, until it shown over all the crowd. There came a sudden blast which shook the very foundations of the warehouse, and then all was still.
Flaura lowered the arm she had held up in which to shield her face, beaming wildly at the sight of who stood before her. Taking one step forward she allowed the cup to fall carelessly to the ground before whispering, "Oh Lucifer."
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Neither Sam nor Balthial could sleep very well and so they had decided to pick up and continue back on the road extremely early into the morning. Last night had been unexpected. The way Balthial had kissed Sam so tenderly, something in which the hunter hadn't experienced in quite a long time. The angel did more than just to satisfy his intimate desire to kiss, Balthial's kiss somehow renewed him. Made him feel stronger and, most importantly, gave Sam a new sense of hope.
Sam was only glad that he had decided to stop before things went too far. Balthial was angel after all, and as much as he would love to get in on with him, Sam refrained. Balthial had thanked him too. "It's not quite time," Balthial had whispered so serenely into Sam's ear, damp with sweat. And so hunter and angel just lay in a content embrace, murmuring sweet nothings to one another as the hours ticked on so carelessly.
But now the sun was beginning to peak over the brim of the sky, a light green strip tinting the horizon. Sam let out a weary sigh, pinching the brim of his nose as he tried his best to focus on the blurring lines of the road. "You're exhausted," Balthial mused simply, "Pull over."
"I'm fine," Sam lied, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white.
"My vessel is an experienced driver," Balthial insisted, "Allow me to drive."
Sam really couldn't argue with the angel's request. To be quite honest, the hunter wasn't sure of how much longer he'd been able to keep his eyes open. Promptly he turned the steering wheel, bringing the Impala to the shoulder of the deserted road. He sighed softly to himself once more, stepping out of the driver's door with a loud creek. Balthial too climbed out of the passenger's seat, making for the trunk rather than hopping back in right away. "What are you doing?" Sam muttered, barely able to keep his eyes open.
Balthial took a few shirts from Sam's bag, stuffing them inside what appeared to be a pillow case. Since when did Dean keep pillow cases in the trunk? Anyhow, fluffing the half-assed pillow somewhat Balthial handed it to Sam with a slight smile. Their hands brushed for the briefest of moments, Sam swearing he could see a slight color flush to the angel's cheeks. "It will do you good," Balthial said simply, turning quickly to get back inside the idling vehicle.
Sam too made it to the other side of the car, silently slipping inside. Almost immediately, Balthial put the Impala in drive and pressed on the gas pedal. A little jerky at first, he quickly regained control of the car like a pro. He was right, his vessel obviously wasn't too bad. "So how did you know he was good at driving?" Sam cleared his throat, his voice hushed as he spoke.
"When Eric was twelve, his uncle would take him driving in a beat up '86 Volkswagen Cabriolet on back roads. His first car was in fact the same Cabriolet," Balthial explained, keeping his eyes focused intently on the road.
Sam said nothing for a moment, blinking vigorously in attempts to stay awake. He wanted to hear all that Balthial had to tell, for the angel's voice was soothing. "Eric is your vessel's name?" he inquired.
"Yes," Balthial said simply, "No more talking for now, you should rest."
Sam chuckled somewhat, "I was never much of a car sleeper anyway."
Balthial glanced over at him. "Perhaps I can assist with that then," he murmured. Before Sam even had a chance to question the angel's motives, Balthial raised to fingers and placed them lightly upon the hunter's forehead. Sam was out like a light, which really didn't take much at this point. Balthial then leaned in and placed a delicate kiss atop the crown of Sam's head amidst his thick locks. "Sleep well," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
And so, the angel continued to drive steadily along, pushing the Impala just a few miles over the speed limit. Time was precious to Balthial, for he wasn't sure how much longer it would be until the demons completed the next portion of their sadistic. As much as he wanted to tell Sam, to let him know he already understood just what the other side had in store for Dean, he couldn't. It wasn't because of stupid orders, or because he would be in fear for his life if indeed he did, no – it was because he was trying to protect Sam, his now love. If he told Sam the reality of the situation, the hunter would surely go berserk and Balthial just couldn't risk Sam being all panic and flustered. The boy needed to focus especially now. All this weighing on his heart, Balthial couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh. Somehow, the silence surrounding him seemed extremely unsettling all of a sudden.
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Dean laid flat on his back against the table, the chilled metal sending shivers through his skin. Both he and Castiel were stripped down to their bare chests, only pants separating them now. Dean panted heavily as Castiel kissed his neck, slowly working his way down towards the hunter's collarbone. Dean grasped the table with sweaty fingers, feeling a desperate and needy sensation beginning to build within the pit of his stomach.
Castiel's hands felt bizarre, almost unfamiliar, as the angel roamed where he would lustfully upon Dean's flesh. Swallowing hard, Dean managed the courage to speak despite this completely awing moment. "Cas," he muttered, clearing his throat, "Cas."
"Yes Dean," Castiel responded almost nonchalantly.
Dean said nothing further for a moment, before regaining his voice once more. "We shouldn't do this," he stammered.
Castiel paused but just a moment, locking glimpses with Dean for a split second. He whispered, "But you said—,"
"I know what I said," Dean interrupted him, pushing the angel away slightly, "But remember what Gaap said? This is just one step closer to them winning, Cas."
"Dean, it's okay," Castiel soothed, placing a hand delicately upon Dean's cheek.
Dean shook his head, frowning as he said, "No Cas, it really isn't." With that, he cast his eyes down towards the ground almost in shame.
Castiel grasped Dean forcefully by the jaw now, forcing the hunter to look him in the eye. "Dean," he insisted, his tone dark and suspicious, "It is. Trust me." As Dean gazed into his so-called lover's eyes, he could feel an overwhelming sensation beginning to wrap its fingers around him, seemingly constricting the life from him. Free will, thought, choice were all gone in an instant.
Dean blinked vigorously, coming suddenly out of whatever spell had been cast upon him. "No," he growled, forcing Castiel away from him almost violently, "You're not Cas."
"Oh really?" Cas mocked, arching an eyebrow.
"You're Gaap," Dean spat in disgust.
"Fine, fine, I give up," who was now apparently Gaap confessed, "But you have to admit, I had you on a long roll there."
"Where the Hell was Cas through all this?" Dean demanded hopping abruptly from the table.
"Oh he was here, somewhere," Gaap mused, beginning to circle Dean ever slowly, "Truth be told he was enjoying all this. And that little consent, that was all him I might add."
Dean hissed, "Bullshit."
"Honest to God, or whatever," Gaap scuffed, raising his right hand in symbolism, "I mean, come on Dean, why would I lie?"
"Oh I dunno, maybe cause you're a demon," Dean retorted bitterly.
Gaap sighed, placing both hands on his hips. "That may be true, but why would I lie about this specifically. Don't forget there, Dean, it takes two to tango," Gaap retorted.
Dean shook his head, clenching his fists as he took a few heated step towards Gaap. He grumbled, "I've had about enough of you—,"
"Ah, ah, ah," Gaap scolded, defensively raising his hands as he backed off, "It's not just me you're hurting. Don't wanna damage Castiel's beautiful face, now do we? Think Dean, use that noggin of yours. I said that Castiel's innocence, his virginity, must be taken in order for this whole shindig to go down."
"And?" Dean huffed impatiently.
"And, it's gotta be consensual. Castiel must willingly agree to make love to you, get it? That was all him," Gaap beamed almost proudly.
Dean stared at the demon in disbelief. Castiel would never consent to anything like this – it was impossible. The hunter stumbled on his words, the syllables seemingly getting caught up in his throat before they were even formed, "But why, why would he—,"
"I know," Gaap sighed wistfully, "How awful, how dreadful. How could an angel stoop to such a low level? You would be surprised where a few mind games will get someone, Dean. Just a little twist of reality, shaking of the foundation, and people fall apart faster than a crummy muffin."
"I'd like to twist your mind around," Dean mumbled under his breath, so longing to choke the life out of the demon. Longing to choke the demon out of Castiel so that the angel, his angel could once again be free.
Gaap opened his mouth as if about to speak once more, when the side door opened once more. Flaura stepped through the archway, her brow furrowed unhappily. "What's going on here?" she asked innocently.
"You can drop the act," Dean griped, folding his arms tightly over his chest.
Gaap rolled his eyes, sighing impatiently at Dean's attitude. "He knows," the demon clarified simply.
Flaura snorted, striding across the room towards the two. "Nice going," she spat sarcastically at Gaap.
"Don't blame me," Gaap retorted defensively, "I'd like to see you do any better at portraying a freaking angel."
"Children, children," a voice suddenly echoed from the corner. Chills ran up Dean's spine – he recognized this voice. Turning slowly to peer over his shoulder, Dean could see none other than Lucifer himself making his way over towards the group. Both Flaura and Gaap immediately took a step back, granting their master entrance into the little circle they'd established. "It's good to see you again, Dean," Lucifer said, his expression blank.
Dean said nothing, simply gritting his teeth as he stood tensely rooted to the floor. What kind of catch phrase was he supposed to come up with against the devil? Especially one that wouldn't result in immediate smiting. "How'd you find me?" Dean asked in a low tone, avoiding Lucifer's piercing gaze.
Lucifer looked to his left, eyeing Gaap up and down. "Castiel did well carving you and your brother's ribs," he began, taking yet another step towards Dean, "But there's nothing rituals can't accomplish. Especially when you have a group of demons summoning me."
Dean swallowed hard, finally gathering the courage to look Lucifer in the eye – that was a mistake. Almost as soon as he had caught a glimpse into those abyss-like holes, he could see hellfire. It was like a gateway to the other side, and it frightened Dean. Frightened him beyond belief. "Dean here was just about to perform a little ritual of his own with our dear angel," Flaura interrupted Dean's thoughts, taking a leisurely step towards her master.
Dean looked quizzically at her, watching as Flaura placed her hand almost lovingly upon Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer, in turn, grasped her hand in his own before turning to place a soft kiss to her forehead. A wide beam spread across Flaura's lips as she wrapped her arms around him and drew Lucifer closer. He simply stroked her fire red hair, his fingertips gliding over each and every strand. "You two?" Dean asked, disgust evident in his tone. His stomach lurched simply at the thought of them being a pair.
"You have yours and I have mine," Flaura declared simply, glaring hatefully at Dean as she leaned her head upon Lucifer's chest.
Lucifer patted her lightly on the back, catching her gaze before departing to look at Dean. "I know who you are, Dean," he began, his voice calm and almost soothing like flowing waters, "I know what you're feeling, how you're broken on the inside."
"Oh really?" Dean questioned smugly, not willing to by the devil's bullshit for an instant.
"Yes," Lucifer insisted, daring to place a hand upon Dean's shoulder, "Which is exactly why you know what this is going to come down to. You know you're going to be my vessel, Dean."
Dean could feel his heart jump to his throat, his legs beginning to wobble even the slightest. "Is that the same speech you gave Sam?" he sneered.
Lucifer removed his hand, sighing wearily at Dean. "No, I didn't have to. Your brother already knows who he is, what he's capable of. It's time for you to figure that out now Dean," Lucifer retorted simply. With a snap of his fingers, he turned back towards the doorway of the room with Flaura and Gaap following obediently behind him.
Gaap paused just before passing through the archway. "Things could be a whole lot simpler Dean," was all he said before closing the door tightly behind him.
As soon as they had disappeared from you, Dean let go. He let go of the strength he'd been using to stand, just allowing his body to collapse down upon the concrete below. He folded his legs up towards his chest, resting his elbows upon. His hands acted like a cradle for his head, in which he sighed so defeatedly. This isolation, this lonely whole that just seemed to build and build within him, it was beginning to become just a little bit more than Dean could stand. What other alternative did he have, honestly? Who's to say Sam was on his trail, that he was on his way to find him? And Lord only knows how long the demons would be willing to keep him hear before their patience grew thin. In the back of his mind, Dean knew it would either come to him or Sammy saying yes he just never dreamt the tables would be turned and Lucifer would want to ride in his skin.
"He looks so lonely," Flaura commented as she peered out the tiny peek shaft towards the top of the door.
"I thought that was kind of the point," Gaap retorted, picking nonchalantly at his fingernails.
"It is," Lucifer declared sternly, "He's close to breaking."
Flaura closed the tiny peep space, turning to face her master. Leaning against the door's bulky frame she asked, "What about Sam?"
"Sam, Sam, Sam," Lucifer sighed, "Sam is not what I expected him to be."
"And Dean is?" Gaap questioned, now leaning forward somewhat on his seat.
Lucifer gazed upon the demon with simply vicious eyes. "He could be," he mused thoughtfully.
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Author's Note: So I know this chapter took forever for me to release but I wanted to wrap another fiction and such. I do apologize for the delay, as well as this chapter being shorter than usual. Next chapter should be a bit more bubbling, but in the mean time I hope this satisfies you. Like most evil characters, Lucifer is an interesting write. Not that I like the devil per say, but I like his mannerisms. I don't know. Just don't go taking me for a Satanist now haha.
Anyhow, thanks for reading and I'll be sure to update soon! ^_^