A/N: Prompt by soprompt: "You can't hide from me."
WARNING: This fic contains non-consensual themes, and allusions to past rape.
"Sa-ammy."
The voice was low, rough, filled with heat, even though the being it came from was freezing cold. Sam's heart hammered away in his chest from hearing it, and his breath quickened. Was it just his imagination or could he see his it in the air? Goosebumps rose up on his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He continued jogging through the bunker hallways, dashing from door to door, and trying the knobs.
They were locked.
Footsteps sounded down the hall — slow, deliberate.
Sam got to the closed door of his room. He jiggled the knob in vain.
Locked.
Fuck!
Out of frustration, Sam slammed his palms against the wood. He'd done so with so much force that his hands were stinging.
Maybe making noise had been stupid, but he was already sure Satan knew where he was. He claimed he could hear his heartbeat, his breaths.
"I can smell your fea-ar!" he sang.
Sam's jaw clenched, tongue working around his teeth, and then he tried the knob again. No luck.
He ran.
Even as he ran, the sound of footsteps that were not his own were loud in the bunker.
"Come on, Sam! You're just tiring yourself out," Lucifer called.
Sam whipped his head around, his swishing. No one was behind him; at least, that he could see.
Sam had been so sure the voice had been right there.
He swallowed roughly, and with a slack jaw, lips parted, he kept running.
Have to hide, have to hide.
"Oh, Sa-am!"
God damn it, why didn't the bunker have closets? They'd make for an easy hiding spot. It was likely that even if Sam found a good hiding spot he'd be too big to fit.
If he said that out loud around Dean, his brother would surely make a vulgar joke.
Sam passed tile, stone, intricate light fixtures. The hallway twisted and turned, and in some places, other halls branched off of it.
Sam burst into the storage room.
No, no! Too open.
All it had was some bookshelves off to his left after descending the platform with metal rails, cabinets holding various arcane objects, and ingredients for spells. A work table was smack dab in the middle of the floor.
Sam had a quick thought that maybe he could find a spell to turn himself invisible. But no, even he couldn't research that fast. And spells took time. And what if he didn't have all the ingredients?
Sam bolted, heading for the garage, a desperate idea in his head.
"Humans… so cute when they run from me," Lucifer's voice came, somewhere unnervingly close by.
"Run, Sam! Use those gorgeous legs of yours for something!"
Nausea curdled Sam's stomach.
Once he made it to the garage, body shaking, hands trembling, sweat running down his neck, and soaking into his clothes beneath his arms, he eyed the old-fashioned vehicles lining the walls on each side. They went all the way to the back.
As he ran to the one farthest from the door, his footsteps echoed — a product of the high ceiling.
The car at the end was locked, and Sam swore as he pulled at the handle. He nearly pulled hard enough to break it off. That would do him no good.
Stop. Think.
Sam looked around the garage, and his eye landed on one of the metal shelves near where the Impala sat, gleaming with comforting beauty. He made his way over to the shelf, doing his best to stay quiet this time since Lucifer might not have known he'd come in here.
On the shelf were various tools and supplies for fixing up cars. As he rifled through them, his hand bumped against an orange plastic chest. He'd just thought screwdriver heads had been in there, but the motion had made a jangling sound.
Heart in his throat, barely daring to hope, Sam grabbed it, unlatched it, and peeked inside. The metallic shine of keys met his eyes. There was so many, and Sam didn't know which one was the right one, so he took the whole chest, black handle solidly in his hand.
Sam made it back over to the silver car, breathing hard.
A bead of sweat ran down his forehead into his left eyebrow.
Sam started trying the keys. He mentally cursed with each one that failed.
Sammy.
He jumped, dropping the pair of keys that had been his latest attempt.
Oh god, the voice was in his head now.
Sammy. You can't hide from me.
The key he held fit smoothly into the lock.
I'm always with you.
Sam opened the door, closed it behind him, and scrambled into the backseat. He wasn't small enough for all of him to fit on the floor behind the front seats, but he tried his best. This was all he had.
"We were made for each other."
The steady, yet hungry, voice echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the bunker garage.
Sam stopped breathing.
The Devil was here.
"Sam, as amusing as this little game is, I'm getting frustrated. It's literally my God-given right to have you. So quit the pussy-footing and face me like a man. Come on, I know you have the balls for it. Yours are pretty big as far as humans go. Super impressive."
Saliva built up in Sam's mouth, his head pounded. All of his body was tingling, and a deep unease settled in him.
Lucifer walked.
He drew close. Sam just somehow knew it.
Maybe he and Lucifer really were connected.
Before Sam could berate himself for that horrifying though, a horribly familiar face peered through the window.
Sam yelped as those blue eyes found him, and he scrambled backward, head bumping into the door. With a desperate noise of some sort leaving him, Sam reached up the handle. His motions were sloppy and uneven, panicked. Sam's fingers grasped the hard, plastic material, and he pulled, even as he pushed back with his shoulder.
The door opened and he toppled out of the car. He landed hard.
That's gonna bruise.
Lucifer slowly walked around the vehicle, drawing close to Sam. Sam crawled backwards.
"Like I said," Lucifer began, "you can't hide from me. You can't run either, can't escape."
Before Sam knew it, Lucifer was too close, in his personal space. And then he was climbing on top of him.
With his pelvis resting against Sam's lower abdomen, and his knees on both sides of his body, Lucifer reached for his throat.
Sam scrabbled at his hands in vain.
Black spots grew in his blurring, tunneling vision. His chest ached, his head pounded. Lucifer grinded against him, already hard in his jeans.
Crushing pain in his throat, breath desperately wanting to move through his respiratory system, Sam's eyes started to roll back up in his head.
His vision went dark.
"Guess I win hide and seek."
He fell, down, deep into Lucifer's tortures and touch.
Sam lost.