.-.-.-.Lucifer.-.-.-.
Summary:
After millennia of evil deeds, a fallen angel is given a second chance and is reborn as a mortal. 28 years later and he's gotten himself into a spot of bother. Spoilers throughout Season 1 & 2 and this is ending up AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything associated with the show.
It's alive! It's alive! Hey guys! Thank you so much for all your kind encouragement and for all the reviews I've received so far. I'm really late in replying to those reviews and in updating all my stories, evil life has been really hectic lately, but I've finally been able to get a bit of break to sit down and get chapter wrote out for Lucifer! I'm so pleased to have finally done it and I wanna thank you all for your patience. THANK YOU! I'm persistent and hate leaving things undone so I will finish my stories, no matter how long it takes – I promise!
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Cat and Mouse
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His hands glided over the smooth metal of the Impala, he could feel how cold it was without even touching it. The hellhound was like his shadow, following him but keeping close to the ground, blood red eyes trained on its master, waiting for his next command. The keys jingled in Dean's hand as he separated them before unlocking the doors.
"You coming?" He asked the hellhound when he opened the door, waiting for it to jump smoothly into the car and land on the passenger seat before climbing in himself, "So how about we have a little fun? There's gotta be someone near here that will provide some entertainment."
The hellhound sunk onto the chair, making its form seem more solid as it folded its front paws and rested its head on them, eyes still staring straight at Dean. It let out a low growl in agreement and fell silent as the engine roared to life.
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It had been over an hour since the door had slammed closed behind Dean. Sam felt completely lost; he sat hunched over in a chair near one of Bobby's bookcases, staring blankly at the floor. The words spoken by Dean repeated themselves over and over inside his head, ringing so loudly that they nearly deafened him. He could only just hear Bobby and Ellen talking in the adjoining room, hushed whispers.
He knew what they were talking about, without actually hearing any of the words or any of the names. The Winchester boys were the hot topic of the moment – how to fix Dean, if he could be fixed that was, and how they'd have to tread carefully around the distraught Sam. He could imagine the things they were saying, his throat clogged up in embarrassment and worry.
"I should have been able to stop you." He whispered, his hands clenched, forming fists, "I should have done something."
"Sam…" Bobby said softly from the doorway, looking in at the young hunter. A thick cloud of tension was settling around them all, "You couldn't have…"
Sam looked up, eyes red with unspent tears, "I can't just sit here Bobby, I have to do something… go after him or something…"
"And then what you gonna do? How you gonna get through to him? Dean isn't in control Sam and it would kill him to think he did something to you and he couldn't stop it."
Sam opened his mouth to protest but it fell shut almost immediately, he forced his gaze away from Bobby and towards the window, "He's still inside there, I know he is."
"We've gotta pray for the best Sam, but prepare for the worst."
"I know he is." Sam repeated more fearlessly, "He could have picked any car in this place that would have made it harder to track him… but he chose the Impala. He's still there Bobby."
"I hope so."
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It kept to the shadows, following him, waiting obediently just in case it was needed. Like thick smoke, it stuck close to the walls and watched carefully. Once or twice a few people did double takes as their eyes passed over the area it was in, certain they'd seen a skulking shape or a flash of red eyes, but when they looked back Ripper had already moved on.
Ripper… the name nagged at it, made it falter as it continued following its master. Others had given it names before, dubbed it as the destroyed, the beast, the demon dog… but his master had never really called him by names before, he'd never needed to. Ripper always knew when he was being spoken to or ordered to do something. Now his master had named him, during that brief period of being human, he feared losing the name and feared that now his master was returning fully to himself he would just go back to being the hellhound.
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She had dirty blond hair and a slim waist, lush red lips parted to allow the burning amber liquid to slide down her throat whilst the hardened green eyes, which told of the hard life of a hunter, watched the crowd surrounding her. She felt drawn to the young man resting against the bar in deep conversation with the barmaid, he was probably ten or fifteen years younger than her but the way he presented himself suggested his life had already been a long and tiring one.
He glanced back into the bar and caught her eye, staring straight at her and she felt herself shiver involuntary. He sent her a courteous smile and returned to his conversation. She felt like a nervous child, there was definitely more to that young man than met the eye. She blinked and looked away, back down towards her nearly empty glass. Another swig and the last of the liquid was gone.
She sighed and thought of getting another one, maybe a bottle this time. As if someone had read her thoughts, she heard the clunk of glass meeting wood and lifted her eyes enough to see a hand placing a bottle of cheap whiskey on the table.
"Mind if I join you?" The young man from the bar asked, "You look like you could use a top up."
"Go ahead." She shrugged and returned the smile he gave her, gesturing the empty seat in front of her, "No one else is gonna take it."
"Name's Dean." He introduced himself, pulling the seat out far enough so he could sit down.
"Linda." She replied, raising the glass Dean had filled in thanks before taking a sip and placing it back on the table.
"Linda." He repeated, sipping his own drink in turn. He looked her up and down; she could see his eyes pause on her neck, probably studying the scar that traced its way across the tender skin – an old battle wound that would never fully heal.
"You're not from around here are you?" She asked.
He shook his head, "Neither are you."
"Just passing through, had a job and now it's over."
"Job? What type of job?"
Oh, I was stalking a shadow demon that liked to eat babies and steal the remaining life forces of old ladies. She thought to herself before telling the lie, "The kind no one else wants - mainly putting down wild and dangerous animals."
"Sounds tough."
"I get by."
"I guess we all have to."
"What about you?" She asked, emptying her glass once more.
"Me?" He sounded almost puzzled by the question and she couldn't help the genuine smile that spread across her face.
"Yeah, you. What you doing in a town like this? Not really a tourist attraction so that can't be it."
His eyes lit up mischievously and he filled her glass a second time, "I'm playing a game of chase with some friends… plan is I drive ahead to some place and I leave them a clue so they can try and figure out where I'm heading next."
"What type of clue?"
"Something they shouldn't be able to miss."
She frowned at his answer but accepted it all the same, continuing to take the offered drinks until the alcohol buzzed through her system making her feel dizzy and tired yet wired and raring to go. He leaned across the table and touched her neck, his finger following the scar. She flinched at first but didn't move away.
"Did it hurt?" He asked gently.
"Stung like hell."
She thought he saw him smile but she brushed it off, she must have imagined it, and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. He stood almost immediately, like the perfect gentleman, helping her out of her seat and into her coat, "I'll walk you wherever if you like. It's not safe this time of night."
"Believe me, I know. I should be okay, trust me."
"Then do it for my sake, I'd feel a lot better about it – can you imagine how guilty I'd feel if I ended up hearing about a dead body or something on the news?"
"You don't strike me as the melodramatic type Dean."
He shrugged in reply and pulled his own coat on, gesturing the door, "Shall we?"
"Fine but don't blame me when you can't find your way back."
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She smelled sweet, the light scent of fear lingered and possibly even arousal but that wasn't what he wanted with her. When they were far enough away from prying eyes he stopped dead and waited until she did the same. She simply stared at him questioningly.
"It's been awhile since I did something like this… so I might be a little rusty." He said and she laughed, taking a step towards him. Her hand slid into his and she brought it up to her face.
"Honey, you're still so young. You don't wanna waste yourself on someone like me."
"You people can be so naïve. Just because the holy water you slipped in my drink didn't do anything doesn't mean you're safe. Compared to me you're just a kid." He gripped her hand tightly and her face dropped in horror, realisation dawning on her, "Don't worry, I won't kill you, I just want you to deliver a message for me."
"A…a message?" She stammered, eyes locked on the unnatural ones before her.
"Remember that game of chase I mentioned… well one of the players is called Sam Winchester. Remember that name 'cause that's who you're giving the message to. I want you to listen carefully. Tell him that I never did get to take sweet little Rebecca for a ride, not this me anyway."
"Why should I?" She spat, the hunter coming back online.
"Because if you do, you get to live and if you don't then I'll have to use your blood to leave the message." His voice was icy cold and cruel, hissing like wind into her ear and making her skin go numb.
She shook her head violently and raised her upper lip threateningly, "I won't do it. You can't do anything to me that will make me do it."
His eyes lit up as if he had been waiting for her to say something like that. He could have said something corny like 'you wanna bet' but he didn't, instead he just raised his free hand to her neck and covered the wound. The memory of it came flashing back to her, vivid images appearing before her eyes and she tried to blink them away but they wouldn't shift.
"Did you enjoy getting your throat sliced up by someone you trusted?" He asked and she tried to bite back the cry that escaped as pain exploded from the scar, like a knife was running across creating a fresh wound. She could feel the blood oozing out and the cold metal cut into her skin… but it wasn't really there and yet it felt so real. The emotions of betrayal did too, the hatred sparking up and the feeling of complete and utter hopelessness.
Before she had the chance to say anything, another scar burst into life, the pain throbbing through her and causing her knees to weaken so much that the only thing holding her up was Dean. And then he let her drop, her knees hit the ground hard and she felt her whole body shake from the impact. Her hands shots out to stop her falling any further, the skin scraping hard against the rough gravel.
"This can go on all night."
"Bastard." She cursed him, spitting blood as another wound opened. She knew she was going to die, she knew this was going to kill her.
He knelt in front of her and held his hand to the side of her face, "Not all wounds are physical."
And he was right, it was like he reached into her mind and pulled all her worst memories and nightmares forward and displayed them for the world to see. All the innocent people she couldn't save, the infected sister that died by her own hand, the fights and the wasted days when she could have picked up the phone to call the only person she had left before they went as well. Her whole body ached with crushing emotions and she cried out.
"Please… no!" She cried, "Please…"
He let go and everything stopped. Fingers twisted and curled through her hair, dragging her up from her position on the ground. A whimper escaped from her dry and trembling lips and she could feel the tears working their way down her cheeks.
"Sam Winchester." He repeated and she nodded, "Call him tomorrow and ask him to meet up with you, same bar we met in. Then give him the message. I don't want him catching up too soon, or else I'll be back for you."
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His phone sat on the table next to him as he worked on the laptop, trying his best to find out as much as he could about the infamous Lucifer. The sun was well into the sky by now, it shone through the window and burned at the back of his neck but he didn't care, he was too busy to care. He hadn't even slept so why would a little sun bother him? As soon as the phone started vibrating though, his attention shifted and Sam practically dove for it, flipping it open to the unknown number and praying.
"Dean?" He asked straight away, not caring if it was or wasn't him, just needing it to be him.
"No…" Came a choked reply from a woman who sounded like she'd spent most the day crying.
"Who is this?"
"Is that Sam Winchester?" She went on, as if she hadn't even heard him.
Sam hesitated upon hearing his name and took a deep breath before answering, "Yeah… it is."
"I… I've got a message for you."
"A message?"
"Meet me at the Slingers Burnout in an hour." Her voice was almost flat except for the hitch midway through the sentence.
"Wait… Slingers Burnout? Where is it?"
"He said you'd be able to find it." And then she hung up and line was dead.
His heart was hammering and his mind was racing to catch up with it, running over the stranger's words. He looked up to see Bobby staring at him questioningly and before Sam could ask if he'd heard of it, Bobby answered his question.
"It's a bar a couple of towns over." He said simply.
"We need to get there now. I think he's left a message for me."
"He's playing with you Sam…"
"I don't care… I just need to find him."
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