Song Remains the Same
Chapter 43 / It's Darker, Always Darker
"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
- W.B. Yeats
*** CONTENT TRIGGER WARNING: Implied Rape/Incest (non-explicit, Lucifer-created) ***
Waking up was a strange feeling for Castiel. It was a sudden awareness of consciousness, followed by another awareness entirely of how reluctant his body and mind were to leave that place of rest. Before he even opened his eyes, his muffled senses came back to clarity—his ears heard the low sound of the car engine as it drove, he could smell the old leather, he felt the car underneath him jostling as it hit uneven parts in a road. The vehicle was slowing down to a crawl. Had they arrived in Detroit?
Cas opened his eyes, looking to his left where Alex was, a little smile dawning across his lips when he thought of her. The smile fell away when he saw that the seat beside himself was empty. He sat up faster than he thought possible, snapping out of the half-lucid feeling. He looked over his shoulder through the large back window. Bobby's van followed the Impala down a dark alley way. She must be with Bobby, but why? "Where's Alex?" he asked urgently, inexplicably feeling a sense of quickly growing alarm.
When he turned back around and saw the way Sam and Dean glanced at each other and then looked back at him, he immediately knew something was wrong. Dean stopped the car and threw the gearshift up into park then took the keys out of the ignition. "You wanna tell him, or me?" Dean asked Sam and his tone was dark, inscrutable. Without waiting for a reply, he got out of the car.
There was a deepening sense of dread when Dean said that and Cas got out, too, faster than he thought possible—he stared across the car roof at Dean. "Tell me what?" Castiel asked intensely, needing to know now—his pulse had picked up, alarm was coursing through his veins at full strength. Where was she? Where was Alex? Why did Dean have that look on his face? Sam was getting out too and while Dean's expression was almost angry, Sam looked mournful.
"She ran away," Sam said grimly as he shut his door. "We think," he added.
Castiel felt thunderstruck by something like terrified confusion. "What?" he looked at Dean for an explanation, almost unable to remember how to breathe for a moment.
The oldest Winchester let out a heavy breath and leaned his arms onto the top of the Impala, pinched the bridge of his nose, then shut his eyes. "What do you want me to tell you, Cas?" He threw a hand up, giving the impression that he'd given up. "She took off."
Cas was frozen in place, staring at Dean in confusion. He heard what they were telling him, but she couldn't just be gone. No… she wouldn't run away from him, and he knew it and couldn't bring himself to believe that she would. "She... wouldn't do that," Cas said in a stilted, strained voice, his features twisted into a wounded, befuddled expression. "I know that she wouldn't."
"Yeah well she did," Dean said gruffly. "She left her phone, left your friggin' Lortabs on the seat beside you. One minute she was there, the next she was just gone and some motorcyclist was yelling about his bike being stolen. She ditched, Cas, okay?" Dean sounded mad about it. Cas was wrecked. Why would she do such a thing? Without a word to him? No, something about this wasn't right.
Cas looked at Sam. "How long ago was this? Why didn't either of you wake me?" He looked back at Dean, getting more and more upset as the knowledge that she was no longer there became realer and realer. "Why did you just let me sleep? You should have woken me, Dean! The second you knew she was gone!" Betrayed, Cas looked at each brother in turn. He was devastated, infuriated, and helpless—all at the same time.
Dean looked at his brother darkly. "I told you he'd flip out."
Sam's head tilted to the side and he pulled a sour face. "Yeah. You did. And I wanna know why you aren't flipping out, Dean." Sam looked at his brother accusingly and clearly agitated, Dean paced alongside the car a few steps, jamming his fingers through his hair then gestured jerkily.
"Look, it's obvious she got freaked out and couldn't come all the way with us and see her twin brother hand himself over to Lucifer, okay?" Dean's expression was foul, he was defensive, but wasn't sure over what. "I mean come on, this isn't the first time she's run away!"
Sam fixed his his brother with a clearly contemptuous scowl, then looked at Cas and drew in a deep, regretful breath. "I wanted to wake you up, Cas, but Dean told me not to. I shouldn't have listened. I'm sorry." He let out a heavy sigh and leaned his back against the car, bowing his head down to scrub his forehead with his hand.
Bobby approached, binoculars in hand. He seemed to be able to sense the tension and know the situation at hand. He cast a cursory, concerned glance at all three of them in turn. "I think this is the spot, guys. Everything okay here?"
Cas looked at him bluntly. "No."
Bobby put a hand on Cas's shoulder and squeezed. Cas could see that the man was troubled, too. "Don't worry, son, we'll find her—just as soon as we're outta this foxhole." Bobby left them, walking up the alley to peer through his binoculars.
Castiel looked back at Dean darkly, great amounts of contempt boiling in his veins. Underneath the scalding glare, Dean looked away guiltily. "We have to go after her, Dean," Cas said in a firm, unwavering voice, forcibly setting aside his anger for the moment. He didn't have time for petty disagreements over what should have been done in time past. He needed to find her, now. The urge was overwhelming and he was struggling not to lose his temper.
Dean came around the back of the car, slowly. "Yeah, sure Cas. Let's go after her. Let's just ditch the possible only shot we have at getting Satan behind bars." He fixed Cas with a challenging, cynical expression. "Any idea where she went? Any clue as to where she could've gone? Cuz I got nothing, and right now, the devil's here in Detroit and we gotta do this man, we gotta do this now." At Cas's glare, Dean pulled an ugly face. "Hey, don't get pissed at me, get pissed at her for being a friggin' kid about this and running off at the worst time possible."
"You're wrong Dean, you must be. She wouldn't run away," Cas insisted, then looked away, deep in conflicted thought. He said the next part almost to himself. "Not from me."
Dean's expression twisted into an angry, disgusted expression. "Oh you think you're so damn special, don't you."
Cas stared at him with a crestfallen expression. "I find your attitude toward me to be completely unhelpful right now."
Dean wet his lips and ran a frazzled hand over his chin, then chopped his hand through the air. "Listen, my brother is about to commit suicide to save the world and it might not even work and my sister abandoned ship and I got no idea where she is, I'm not in the best fucking mood okay?!" He didn't seem to be able to hold still, half turning away like he was about to walk away, then stopping and heaving a heavy breath, his shoulders tensed up toward his ears. "I'm sorry Cas, okay? I got no choice. We'll go find her after we do this." He looked at Sam meaningfully. "We gotta do this now Sam, while we still have the opportunity."
Sam was nodding grimly. "I know."
Cas looked at both of the brothers in disbelief. Didn't they sense it, too? How something was very wrong and off? Why weren't they as worried as he was? Bobby came back, walking a little faster than normal. "Demons across the street at that old apartment building," he said to Dean. "At least two dozen of 'em. You were right—something's up."
Dean nodded, foreboding filling his face. He looked up at the apartments and Cas saw just a hint of fear dart across the man's face. "More than something. He's here. I know he is." Dean glanced at Cas with an inscrutable and clouded expression, then turned and walked to the trunk of the Impala.
Sam looked at the apartments too, feeling his heart hammering sickeningly fast in his chest. This was really it. He was going to do this. He had never been so afraid in his life. Bobby caught his gaze, and Sam knew that they both recognized that this moment meant goodbye. Bobby looked down, sadness flashing over his features, then he braced himself and walked over to Sam. There were tears shining in his eyes, and his voice was soft. "See ya around, kid."
Sam stayed brave. "See ya around." They embraced tightly, and when they came apart, Bobby looked at Sam pleadingly.
"He gets in... you fight him tooth and nail, you understand? Keep swingin'." Bobby blinked back tears. "Don't give an inch."
Sam's expression was rigid. "Yes sir." Bobby clapped him on the arm and turned away as his face distorted in grief. The older man walked off a few steps, kept his back turned to them. Sam struggled to maintain his composure and he wished so badly that his twin were here. If he'd known at that gas station was really going to be the last time he saw her… he would have hugged her a lot longer and said a lot more. But he hadn't, and he had to leave it at that no matter how much it grieved him inside. He cleared his throat, blinking tears away and caught Cas's somber, conflicted gaze.
Sam went over to him and extended a hand to him for a handshake. "Take care of these guys, okay?" He asked. Cas looked at Sam's hand blankly.
"That's not possible," Cas replied, his tone almost depressed. "I can't even take care of your sister."
Sam's expression fell and so did his empty hand, but he tried to keep his brave face on. "…just humor me, Cas. Please."
Cas seemed to understand and became disappointed in himself. "Oh. I was supposed to lie," he muttered, and then in a strange display, he attempted a reassuring, off-the-cuff kind of smile, which looked strange and unnatural. "Uh... sure," he said with false, stilted nonchalance. "They'll be fine."
Sam could have laughed at the guy's expression if the situation wasn't so dire. "Just—just stop... talking," he said, because this was only making Sam feel worse and worse.
"Apologies," Cas said, dropping the act, once again distraught and clearly in torment. "I find myself deeply upset right now." He looked down at his feet unseeingly and Sam stepped a little closer, taking hold of Cas's arm. Cas looked up at Sam.
"Promise me you'll find her, Cas," Sam said urgently, quietly. "And when you do... tell her I'm so sorry. I wanted to say goodbye better than I did." He huffed softly. There was a huge lump in his throat and he squeezed Cas's arm. "Take care of her Cas. I know you will."
Cas nodded, still filled with apprehension and doubt. "I'll do my best, Sam."
Sam nodded. "I know you will. I'm... I'm glad she has someone who… cares about her as much as you do."
Near them, Dean watched silently, leaned over the open trunk of the car. Sam caught his gaze. It was time. Sam expelled a heavy breath, drew his shoulders up, then went to Dean who was now pulling out one of the gallon jugs of demon blood that had been stored in the back seat. Dean put it with the other ones then counted the jugs, frowning lightly. "I thought there was one more, Sam but… I dunno, guess not."
"It's fine. It's enough." Sam looked at the containers of bright red liquid and then at Dean. He felt queasy at the thought of drinking the blood, at the thought of what he was about to do. Everything from shame and terror and hope coursed through him. But mostly shame because of what demon blood had done to him in the past. He looked at his older brother sidelong. "You, uh, you mind not watching this?" he asked quietly, and Dean looked at his brother sadly then did as he wished, starting to walk off toward the front of the car… then turned slightly as Sam lifted the first jug up out of the trunk.
"Sam—you sure about this?" Dean asked softly, filled with obvious dread. "We can try something else, we can find something else, I mean, there has to be another way, man, right?" He swallowed and Sam saw how scared his big brother was. How he didn't really believe there was another way, but as always, was trying to make everything okay, was trying to keep Sam safe, was trying to give him an out. Dean pleaded with Sam silently, then out loud. "You don't have to do this."
Sam looked at the jug of blood that he held. No, he didn't have to. No one was forcing him to do this, not really, but after a lifetime of ducking responsibilities and taking the safe way out, he wasn't going to back down on this one. He was going to do this. He was going to save the world and finally save his family instead of them always saving him.
He was going to keep Alex safe from the dreams he'd seen. He'd lied to her the day before yesterday when he told her he didn't remember the details of the dreams he'd had where she died in a fire. But he did. He remembered in perfect, horrifying detail. His baby sister, pinned brokenly to a ceiling, blood dripping from her stomach as she screamed… Sam standing below, hand outstretched. Him, the one who had been burning her. All these years he had lived in fear of telling anyone the dreams, he'd lived in fear of them coming true. But when Azazel had died and the dreams had stopped, Sam had been relieved. He'd been assured. But not anymore, not with what Dad said to Alex in Heaven. So this, Sam essentially killing himself… wouldn't just save the world from Lucifer. It would save Alex from any chance of that ever happening.
It was too terrible to even think about, the sight of her dying at his hand... under the influence of demon blood, he'd always assumed. That's why he'd stayed away from her when Dean had died and he'd been with Ruby, becoming addicted to the substance of her blood. And Sam had spent such a long time living in wretched guilt over the dreams, whether or not to tell Dean, whether or not to take the secret to his grave. Sam had always known that he would give his life to save his sister. And now... he was about to. Maybe it was for the best that she wasn't here to see him drink down this thick fiery blood that had caused him to strike her across the face in time past.
You don't have to do this, Dean had just said to him. Struggling against the lump in his throat, Sam shook his head no and looked at his brother in the eye, feeling the bravest and most afraid he ever had. "Yes. I do have to do this." Sam looked at him meaningfully. "Turn around, Dean."
And Dean did, with tears in his eyes.
Castiel and Bobby hung back as Sam finished the demon's blood and slammed the trunk of the car shut with gusto and then, somehow seeming to be physically larger than he had a minute ago, marched down the alleyway, a man on a mission.
Dean followed as Sam strode across the empty street with arms raised in challenge. "All right! We're here, you sons of bitches!" He roared. "Come and get it!" Cas could see two demons in suits come out of the doorway to the apartment. They took hold of Sam and Dean and Cas fought his instincts to save them. He held still and watched them disappear into the building.
His stomach churned, the pain from his wounds was returning and he felt physically horrible, but none of it was comparable to his emotional distress. He was agonized to his core at the thought of Alex out there alone somewhere. He didn't understand why she would leave, it made no sense at all, and the struggle for understanding was tearing him apart internally.
He couldn't hold still. He paced one, two, three steps back and forth. He wanted to leave now and find her, but he didn't even have the first idea of where to begin or how to locate her in this big world without any angelic powers at his disposal. He couldn't stop thinking she wouldn't just leave like that. Something was deeply wrong and every moment he stood here uselessly, doing nothing, he felt like he was betraying his duty to protect her, that she could be out there somewhere needing him and that he was forsaking her. Over and over again, clanging loudly in his mind the conviction that something—was—wrong.
Perhaps this feeling was what people referred to as gut instinct. He couldn't ignore it, and was becoming restless to the point of what he believed to be insanity. But the second he turned to Bobby to tell him he was leaving to find Alex, he caught a movement up in the dark window of the third floor.
A solitary, shadowy figure came to stand at the window, and at the chills produced by the presence, Castiel knew that was Lucifer. So that's why, for a moment, he couldn't breathe at all. That was not the hefty, towering vessel of Nick in the window.
"No..." Cas breathed out in a stupor of horror. He was frozen where he stood, not understanding how that would even be possible. "Please, no."
Sam and Dean were roughly dragged and pushed up several floors along a cracked, splintering old staircase then down a narrow dark hallway and finally into a dank old apartment. Dean grunted in protest as the demon handling him shoved him through the doorway carelessly—his shoulder cracking into the dilapidated wooden doorframe.
The apartment had broken old furniture and walls that were rotted away in places, but none of that drew the boys stares. Standing there at the far end of the apartment at the window, back turned to them… not Nick. As the boys were let roughly let go, Dean stared in confusion at the back of the familiar, slight figure standing at the window. Her finger had just drawn a pitchfork on the frosty glass pane.
"A-Alex?" Sam asked breathlessly, moving forward a little towards her… then halting completely when she turned around to face them. Dean almost had a heart attack. It had only been about two hours since he'd seen her, but she wasn't the same girl anymore.
Her color was pale, almost gray. Obscene spider veins crisscrossed underneath the surface of her skin—she looked like a vase that had been hairline cracked all over. Her eyes were vacant and yet foreboding, her mouth was twisted into a lifeless smile. "Guess again..." she said, and that's when they really knew it wasn't her—her voice was quiet and dark yet sing-song, a perversion of her real voice. She took a couple steps toward them, slow, measured. "So nice of you to stop by, boys," she drawled pleasantly, and the smile on their sister's face stretched a little bigger.
"Lucifer?" Sam asked in abject horror, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That's right," she replied, again in the haunting and wrong speech pattern their sister never used.
Sam and Dean were rendered temporarily speechless by horror and confusion, both of them confounded and dismayed by the sight before them. Dean found his voice first. "What are you doing in her, you son of a bitch?" He could barely breathe—he was completely and utterly terrified. Lucifer looked at him, and even though it was his sister standing there, even though that was her face, Dean could barely even recognize her. "Alex, c-can you hear me?" he asked, perhaps foolishly hoping against hope to see even a flicker of his sister in those cold eyes.
Lucifer almost looked sympathetic, wincing using Alex's familiar features. "Sorry boys... Alex can't come to the phone right now." The little smile on her face was almost playful and the effect was sickening. "But I'd be happy to take a message."
Overcome with rage, Sam shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and used the abilities afforded to him by the demon blood. All the demons in the room fell over, dead. Sam reopened his eyes and looked at Lucifer dangerously.
"Hm. Neat trick," Lucifer said, almost bored. "But... you forgot one." Alex's eyes went to somewhere behind the boys and between them. They turned to see a tall man wearing a black leather jacket. He had striking, dark features set against pale skin and eyes that glittered at them smugly. He smirked mildly at their surprise. "Oh, that's right..." Lucifer commented softly as if in surprise. "You can only kill demons with your little sideshow talent… not angels."
Sam and Dean looked at each other in more rising fear. Lucifer had angel allies. "Hezion," Lucifer said to the man in leather, "we're about to have more guests. Let's make sure they're... welcomed." As if on cue, the door slammed open and Castiel burst in, breathless and horrified and opening his mouth to say something when he was jerked into the room without hands, pulled like a rag doll through the air and then slammed back-first into a far wall painfully. Behind Cas, Bobby had crouched slightly into a defensive position, but he, too, was dragged into the room without even being touched and Hezion took hold of him, touched Bobby's head and the older man went unconscious and dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
"Bobby!" Dean exclaimed. Hezion looked at him warningly. Dean stayed in place.
"Alex, no, no," Castiel said, struggling against the invisible hold over him where he was flattened against the wall.
"Ah, Castiel." Lucifer sauntered over, smiling at Cas with dead eyes—the way Lucifer pronounced his name was different than Alex ever had and the effect was terrifying. "An angel who's married to his work... I should have guessed you'd show up. I've said it before but I'll say it again..." Lucifer looked at Castiel in faint fascination, as if trying to figure him out. "What a peculiar thing you are…"
"What have you done to her?" Castiel asked, his voice high pitched and breathy with alarm at how near-death Alex looked.
"Nothing she didn't ask for," Lucifer replied casually… and the expression was too pleasant, too calm. Lucifer's triumph gleaming through Alex's eyes as she stared at Castiel in the eye unblinkingly. And then without warning, her eyes flickered. Alex's face distorted, she lurched slightly, and for the briefest moment, confusion and fear came over her. Cas dropped away from the wall, released from the hold he'd been in—and he was reaching for her immediately and she looked terrified, uncertain, lost. "Cas, wha—ahh!" she crumpled forward into his arms with a cry of absolute pain, teeth gritted—and then without warning she straightened oddly and Castiel was slammed against the wall again.
Lucifer looked slightly thrown by what had just happened, frowning darkly and looking at Castiel almost suspiciously. "Interesting..." he commented warily, eyes sweeping up and down over Cas strangely.
Cas struggled valiantly as he stared at the embodiment of evil in the body of the woman he loved, his expression agonized and fearful and horrified and enraged all at once. "I don't know how you've done this but I won't let you have her," he growled, fighting Lucifer's hold over himself in vain.
"Too late for that," Lucifer replied mildly, then held a single finger over Cas's lips. "Now do us all a favor… and shut your trap." When her finger came away, Cas looked confused. His mouth remained shut as if by force.
Still frozen where they were and in shock, Sam and Dean watched as Lucifer, in the body of their little sister, turned to them and folded her arms then tapped a thoughtful finger to her chin. "Well. I'm sure this is not what you expected when you walked into the room, is it, boys?"
"Why?" Sam asked, trembling in both rage and helpless fear. "I'm your vessel, I am. She has nothing to do with this!"
Lucifer looked mildly inconvenienced, then faintly amused. "Well, she does have something to do with it now, wouldn't you agree, Sam? But you're right. She's not my true vessel. This… her? Disgraceful. Worst vessel ever." Lucifer laughed suddenly and swung her arm up against the old metal bookshelf that was rusted and falling over—hard enough to break bone. The boys both started, cringing helplessly. The shelf collapsed loudly, and Lucifer looked down at the already-bruised arm. "So weak and ineffective," Lucifer commented indifferently, then looked up at Sam, who was ready to spring, yet conflicted because that was his sister's body in front of him—how could he attack Lucifer and not her as well?
"You two look so confused," Lucifer commented, smiling now and showing teeth. The devil began to pace slowly, enjoying the horrified tension that blanketed the room. "Allow me to explain. I know it's probably a little... surprising. A bit of a… plot twist, if you will." Lucifer pulled a sympathetic face and paused for a moment. "I do apologize for any inconvenience."
Dean watched with growing rage, his fists clenched. But then when Lucifer began to explain, his rage dissipated into hopelessness and unfathomable grief. "Sam. Dean. Your sister asked me for this. Seems like little sis has the same save-the-world complex that you do… that and a couple wrong ideas about this little cohabitation arrangement we've come to." Lucifer grimaced sympathetically and Dean's sadness began to give way to anger again. "I'm afraid that might be my fault, too. Gosh, all I did was tell a few little fibs to a few ears here and there... planted a few choice dreams… had Hezion whisper in her ear… and look what happened." Lucifer spread his hands out in a helpless little shrug then chuckled lowly. Son of a bitch, Dean could barely see, such was his wrath.
"It's sweet, really, the amount of bravery it took for her to do what she did. Drank a gallon of demon blood on the side of some road before she summoned me. Choked it down thinking she was going to save the world, save her brothers, save the angel she loves…" Alex's eyes slid to Cas, who looked positively sickened where he was silent and stuck. "She thought it through, boys. Had a plan. She summoned Michael first and told him she was going to pray to me, say yes to me while Michael stayed hidden nearby, waiting to get the jump on me. She knew she'd be weak enough to be defeated with that pitiful amount of demon blood pumping through her veins..." Lucifer paused, smiling darkly. "We've had more to drink since then, she and I..." There was another little sick smile and Dean's heart was breaking in two to hear what had happened to his sister while he had been angry at her for running away. He cursed himself and his stupidity, his pride. He should have know something was wrong. Cas and Sam had both been right.
"It's too bad I was three steps ahead of her," Lucifer said, and there was a clearly ringing note of pride in Alex's voice. "Clever girl... but not clever enough. After all… I was the one who planned this whole thing, wasn't I? It was almost too easy." The question only served to mystify and terrify the brothers further, who were suddenly feeling like they may not have a single clue what was really going on. Alex's chin raised up, the chilling smile stretched her pale features and her voice softened. "So, long story short… she prayed to me and I sent Hezion to snatch her up before Michael even knew what was happening. Oh, she was so surprised that it didn't go how she thought it would, tried so hard to hide it…"
Sam was practically seething at this point, Dean wanted to break down and weep and beg Lucifer to just please let her go! His eyes stung with tears—he was barely holding himself together—and he glanced Cas's way. The ex-angel pinned to the wall was distraught and had stopped struggling. Dean looked back at his sister's form, so confused and angry. Why? It made no sense! Lucifer was still pacing languidly. "I brought her here, asked if she'd like to let the devil inside and she said yes, just like that. Guess she thought maybe she could fight me off or something… I don't know. She gave it her best effort. You should be proud. She really thought she could kill me…" there was an apologetic wince. "Probably my fault for leaving all those red herrings for her to find." Lucifer's eyes went from Sam to Dean and that little smirk was chilling to the bone. "Well. Bless her heart."
"Why the hell would you even possess her, you bastard?" Dean asked, his voice wavering with emotional torment. "Sam is your vessel, why would you do this?!"
"Watch your tone, Dean," Lucifer said softly in warning, and the cold, dead eyes stared him down for a long moment. Lucifer turned to look at Sam again. "Alex here is… my insurance policy, if you will."
"Insurance against what?" Sam demanded, both at the end of his rope and terrified of the answers.
Lucifer rolled her eyes slightly, as if bored with the exchange. "Sam. I know you have the horsemen's rings."
Dean's heart dropped even as Sam attempted to appear unfazed. "I don't—I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? You're going to lie to this face?" Lucifer asked, pointing to Alex's face and circling the finger around a couple times. She sighed and patiently continued. "Come on Sammy. The magic keys to my cage? Ring a bell? I've never lied to you." Lucifer pulled a face then shrugged in false modesty. "Well. Avoided telling you the details, yes. Manipulated you. Mm, a little. But never let it be said that I lied to you, never to you Sam. Do me the same favor and be honest."
Sam's shoulders heaved up and down as he stared at Lucifer, trying to hide his fear. "I know what you plan to do," Lucifer told him, even as Dean's sickened feeling doubled as he realized this whole entire thing was a trap, from day one, all of it. And they had walked right into it. "A wrestling match inside your noggin. I like the idea, and hey, I've already beaten one Winchester today, why not another? Go for a record, hm?" Lucifer laughed softly, a chilling effect. "Just you and me? One round?" She raised her eyebrows and held out a playfully warning finger, voice bordering sing-song again. "No tricks." She held one hand out to her left, palm up. "You win, you jump in the hole." She held out her other hand to her right, palm up. "I win… well. I win." Her hands came together, fingers steepled in thoughtfulness. "Like you, Sam, I value honesty. So I'll tell you now: It won't work. I'm stronger than you. So much stronger. But… if you decide to back out now… I keep this little consolation prize." Lucifer gestured loftily at Alex's body then looked at the brothers with haughty eyes, reveling in the victory he seemed to know he'd already won.
"What to do, what to do..." Lucifer said softly, thoughtfully, mockingly. "Question is, now that you know that I know your endgame… now that you know the risk… are you still willing to chance it?" Dean and Sam looked at each other in mutual devastated horror. They had already lost.
"Let's talk options, Sam," Lucifer said, pacing back and forth again leisurely. "One: save your sister's life and let me have you instead, my true vessel. Two, walk away, let her die—by Michael's hand, or by the effect I'm having on her. Your choice." Lucifer stopped pacing, looked disingenuously sorrowful. "And by the way? She's currently dying of every kind of cancer known to man. This little hundred-twenty pounds of meat just can't quite handle me." Lucifer smirked and looked at Cas. "It's... a pretty tight fit in here, I have to say." The smirk widened at Cas's tortured expression and useless struggling. Lucifer looked back at Dean now. "Get me out of her soon, maybe the damage can be reversed."
"You son of a bitch," Sam said sharply, drawing Lucifer's attention. "I was gonna say yes anyway! Why would you do this?"
There was a humble shrug followed by a truly empathetic expression that was even more disconcerting than the other chilling smiles and stares. "You're mine Sam. You've always been mine, and I always knew you'd say yes… all I had to do was make it impossible for you to say no." Sam's jaw flexed wrathfully, his fists clenched at his sides and Lucifer smiled again. "Even if you were already going to say yes… you have to admit this was entertaining." Lucifer fiend surprise. "No? I'm the only one?" There was a low chuckle.
At Sam and Dean's scalding glares, Lucifer got mildly exasperated and set Sam with a look that was both warning and full of appeal. "I'm not to blame here Sam. I may have created the opportunity, but she's the one who said yes. She practically begged me to get inside her." Lucifer shrugged Alex's mouth up into a helpless, pitying expression. "Who was I to turn her down? She was so polite." Alex's face grew thoughtful and Lucifer paused a couple beats as if listening to some far away sound. "She's begging me right now, too… but for escape, for release... she's in so much pain..."
"Jesus Christ, Sam, get her outta there now, please!" Dean begged, his voice high in urgency.
Lucifer looked at Dean in wicked piousness. "Feeling guilty, are we Dean?" Lucifer approached him by a few steps. "She thought about telling you this idea of hers but… well, she knew you wouldn't let her risk her life. She knew you would never let her endanger herself. Ironic, isn't it? You ensured her harm by trying to prevent it." She clicked her tongue chidingly, then her eyes slid to Sam. Alex's arms spread wide and her face was filled with a triumphant, challenging expression. "So how about that wrestling match? What do you say Sam?" Her voice became impossibly soft and sing-song. "A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you-ouuu..."
"Sam, hurry," Dean urged. He didn't need to encourage his brother.
Sam was already stepping forward, intense and decisive. "Yes. Do you hear me? Yes!"
Her eyes glittered in triumph just before Alex's head went back. Blinding light blazed in the room, and Dean had to look away. When the light died away, the twins were both motionless on the floor. Cas fell away from the wall and the second he was released, he was crawling over to Alex.
Was the exchange made? He couldn't even tell, and Dean's first instinct was to rush to his siblings, but he knew what had to be done and with a badly trembling hand and a spinning head, he drew out the horsemen's rings from his pocket. They were locked together and he threw them at the far wall where they stuck as if magnetic. If this didn't work, he didn't know what he would do. He chanted the phrase Death had made him memorize. "Bvtmon… tabges… babalon!"
At his words, the elements obeyed. Beneath where the rings were stuck, the wall began to crack and sink inwards, the entire room shook and the wall began to peel away, sucking itself inwards and revealing a dark, circular void. Struggling to stay on his feet, Dean looked behind himself. Cas was sitting on the floor with Alex's unconscious form pulled up into his arms. Sam was stirring on the floor. Dean rushed to his brother, hoping against hope that his brother had control, that this plan of theirs would work. "Sammy!?"
"Dean!" Sam shouted back, grimacing, struggling, then giving a cry of torment. "I can feel him, oh, god!"
Not even able to hear, just focused on doing, Dean hauled Sam to his feet. "You gotta go now! Come on!" Dean looked at the hole on the wall that was growing wider and wider, sucking more and more cracked wooden wall inwards. "Go now, Sammy, now!" On his feet, Sam obeyed and walked forward toward the hole—Dean could see his shoulders heaving up and down as he steeled himself... and then he relaxed, turned around smoothly, and smiled cooly. Dean's world crumbled.
"I was just messing with you," Lucifer said thunderously in Sam's voice. Above the wind, his voice carried authoritatively, and when he spoke, his mouth moved strangely, looking nothing like Sam at all. "Sammy's long gone." Lucifer announced, then turned back to the wall. "Chdr bvtmon tabges babalon!" The wind ceased, the wall was once again as it had been. Lucifer took the horsemen's rings off the wall and looked at them calmly.
Near Dean's feet, Cas looked up at Dean in sheer horror. Limp in his arms, Alex looked as though she might as well be dead, and if it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Dean would have thought she was dead. Lucifer sauntered over slowly, turning the horsemen's rings in his hands. He was looking around the room with a slight frown, and that's when Dean realized distantly that the Hezion guy was gone. Lucifer seemed unhappy about it, but refocused on Dean. Sam's eyes looked at him for a long moment, the smallest sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "I told you... this would always happen in Detroit." Lucifer looked at Alex's unconscious body and then back to Dean and the smile increased. "I'm sorry for your loss." And he disappeared. Dean stared breathless and horrified for a second before turning and rushing to drop down to his knees in front of Cas, who cradled Alex across his lap there on the floor.
"What did he mean, what does he mean?!" Dean demanded in alarm, scared shitless, looking at his sister in a panic—she looked the same, diseased and practically lifeless. "He said he'd let her live!" Cas looked up at him with eyes that were shining with tears, and seeing that made Dean go completely still. Oh no. And he already knew it before Cas said it, but hearing it out loud seemed to suck out all the air from Dean's lungs.
"She's dying, Dean." His ragged voice could barely speak the words.
The men looked at each other and Dean began to shake his head. No. Not Alex. But he looked down and saw how her skin was sapped of all the color of life, how she was barely breathing, how she looked dead already. And Dean didn't even understand what had just happened, didn't know how she could have been lured into this and he'd had no clue. He felt such a tidal wave of guilt and despair crashing over him that he could barely see at all. Just a few hours ago, she'd been fine. How the hell had this happened? What was she thinking? She looked like she might pass any second, such was her appearance, and Dean reached out a trembling hand, placing it on the top of her head. Stunned, silent tears ran down his cheeks. His heart burned in his chest so painfully.
"H-how long, Cas?" Dean asked, barely able to form words.
Cas shook his head and looked down into her still face, lost. He didn't answer for a long moment, and Dean could see there was a tear track down one of his cheeks, that Cas looked physically ill almost. The sight of that made Dean's terror even more pronounced. Cas sounded as shellshocked as Dean felt. "A few days maybe, I… I don't know." Cas's fingers tightened on her, his arms drew her slightly closer to himself, his face twisted up at he gazed into her unmoving face.
Dean stood up in a daze, unable to stop staring at his sister as he shook his head again. No. No. This was not allowed, this was not okay, he was not going to accept this. He began to pace back and forth, trying to think of something, anything, some way out of this, some way through. He wanted to shake Alex and scream at her and beg her to tell him why she'd gone and done this. Stupid, stupid girl. Why did you have to try and do what I always do? Why'd you have to try and save everyone? Don't you know that's my job? Dean was getting out of breath, he shoved a hand through his hair and paced harder. He didn't make it all this way, all these years, he hadn't kept those two idiot siblings of his alive all this time to see them fucking die now, no, oh no—he hadn't gone to Hell and been brought back to stand by and let this happen.
But what could he do? What could he do!? She was going to die and so was Sam and without warning, Dean lost it. "Why the hell would she do this, Cas! I'm supposed to be the one who takes the hit in this family, me! And instead I lose Sam and Alex the same goddamn night?! Where the fuck is the sense in that?! What am I supposed to do, Cas? What am I supposed to do?!" He shoved the nearby bookshelf violently, it skittered across the floor and into the wall and Dean put his head in both of his hands, shaking from emotion and fear and despair and anger and grief that was as heavy as all the gravity in the world. It's already over. Your family is as good as dead. No. He refused to accept that and he pulled himself together.
Dean wet his lips, controlling himself, speaking calmly again even if it were forced. "How do we stop this, Cas?"
"Stop what?" Cas asked. He was utterly hopeless and it showed. He shook his head, looking back at Alex again. His face distorted again. "It's over, Dean."
"It's not over until I say it's over!" Dean felt how his hands shook uncontrollably at his sides and clenched them into fists.
Cas looked at him almost indignantly, like he couldn't believe Dean's audacity. "Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field and the battle of Armageddon will begin." He looked away, somewhere into middle distance, his expression rigid and torn. His voice softened, heavy with sorrow and weariness, defeat. "I wish I could see some hope in this. But... I see none."
"Where is this chosen field?" Dean demanded, angry about Cas just sitting there and giving up.
"Even if I knew, Dean—" Cas started heavily.
Dean was almost on the verge of breaking down and crying and it translated into an angry, overbearing near-shout. "You listen to me, you junkless sissy, we are not giving up! You say you love her well get on your fucking feet and prove it! Help me find a way to fix this!" He was breathless with emotion and Cas looked at him silently. Guilty? Reluctant? Dean couldn't tell, all he knew was that he needed help, he needed help!
"Boys?" Bobby's voice came from somewhere behind Dean. He was pushing himself up, a little dazed. "What happened?" Then he saw Alex and his expression fell. "Christ," he breathed, then scanned the room. "Sam?" he asked, expression distraught in useless hope.
Dean's mouth wavered, he struggled to keep it in a thin line. He shook his head. "Gone."
Without a trace. He could be anywhere, anywhere. Dean wracked his mind desperately, at the end of his rope. No revelation, no idea came to him. And then suddenly it dawned on him. He looked at Bobby breathlessly. "I-I think I know how to find him."
Castiel sat on some dirty steps that were off of the alley where the Impala and Bobby's van were parked. He was still holding Alex. Hadn't let go of her for a second. She was still and limp in his arms, breathing shallowly and unconscious. Cas was beside himself at how quickly everything had crumbled. Just yesterday they had been beyond happy—had woken up in each other's arms. She'd been so alive and he thought that they would spend the rest of their lives together, that he would learn to be human with her at his side, that they would somehow find a way to stop her death in 2013. He'd pictured a life for them, he'd been hopeful despite some misgivings. The thought of being with her had been the one bright spot for him in the midst of losing his powers, of losing who he'd been before. But now, today, the one he loved was withering away from him, was a day or two away from fading out completely. And he could do nothing except watch it happen.
Dean was on his cell phone in the Impala a few feet away and Cas could hear his rumbling voice indistinctly. Bobby's van was nearby too and Cas could hear a female voice reporting the latest news over the radio.
"Reports are flooding in—a seven point six earthquake in Portland, eight point one in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll."
It was starting.
He stroked his hand down the side of Alex's face mournfully. No. It was ending. Her pallid complexion was profaned by the strange, dark veins that were etched underneath all visible skin. Oh, Alex. He wondered why his chest ached so painfully, why this had happened, why she had done this. He didn't understand how she could have made such a huge decision to try and stop Lucifer on her own without leaving him even a single clue. He'd had no idea she'd been thinking of this. It almost felt like betrayal. He was grieved to his most innermost parts. He thought the humans called this feeling heartbreak, and it was fitting, because everything inside of him felt broken so painfully and the source of all the destruction began there in the left of his chest—pounding despair and misery into his veins again and again at a steady rhythm.
Cas hung his head for a long moment, unable to believe what he was about to do. But he had no pride left, only heartache and misery and desperation for some way out of this—not for him, but for her. And with that in mind, his head raised up. "Please," he whispered aloud, looking upward to the dark, starless sky. His eyes flickered back and forth over the dark expanse. "I don't deserve an answer and I don't deserve your kindness after everything I've done... after all the sins I've committed against you... but I promise, I swear to you, I will do anything if you heal her, give her another chance. Father, please." He heard sirens off in the distance. "Anything." Cas faltered, almost in tears at the rejection, the silence, the utter indifference God was continuing to show him. "I'm begging you," Cas whispered in a cracked voice. He almost held his breath, staring, waiting, hanging all his hope on a God who didn't seem to care anymore. There was no reply and Cas bowed his head down, attempting not to become overwhelmed in desolation.
What was left for him to do? She would die. And he felt that he would, too. He loved her so much that it hurt. Abruptly, Alex breathed in sharper than she had before, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him in a daze or disorientation. His breath caught, his stomach flipped in surprise and worry, he tightened his arms around her urgently.
"Alex—!" he said her name and he sounded both relieved and afraid.
"...Cas?" She asked softly. Her voice was cracked and papery, weak. She tried to sit but didn't seem to have the strength, seeming surprised by how weak she was—Cas helped prop her up a little more so that she was leaning her side heavily into his shoulder and torso. She looked down and saw one of her hands—grayish and patchworked ghoulishly in veins. Realization and understanding washed over her features. He could quite literally see her remembering everything that had happened during the possession as her face crumpled. One of her hands came up to half cover her face and her body shook with great, silent sobs. "Oh no," she whispered brokenly.
Her eyes screwed shut and Cas recognized that she was ashamed. He traced his fingers along the side of her head, carefully pulling her closer so that her face was buried in the front shoulder of his trench coat. There he held her securely—unsure why her distress seemed to be his own, why seeing her so distraught was making him feel the same. He was living in fear that every breath she took would be her last, that she would die and he would be alone. And seeing her crying so pitifully made him break inside even more. It would have been better if she hadn't remembered the possession, and he wished he could take the torment away from her somehow. He could feel one of her hands as it came to weakly grasp at the front of his shirt. He didn't know what to say or do, he was still in shock that his Alex, the spark of life itself, could be so dim, so close to being extinguished completely. He couldn't accept this but didn't seem to have a choice. He leaned his head down mournfully, resting his forehead against the side of her head as she shook with feeble tears. His face contorted painfully as he struggled to keep his composure too. He stroked his thumb against her hair over and over again, fighting with himself internally and searching for the right thing to say, a way to make her tears stop.
"I'm so stupid," she managed weakly through tears, her faint voice muffled. Her voice raised in pitch, becoming more unbalanced. "I thought I could save you. I thought I could save everyone, I'm so fucking stupid."
He felt insulted at what she'd said. "No, you're not," Cas told her and drew back, holding her steadily. He didn't completely understand what had happened or why she'd believed she could do that, but he knew she wouldn't have done it without good reason, and he loved her and wished he could take this from her. She looked agonized, her pale face was shining with tears, some hairs were plastered against her cheeks. He swept them away without a thought, searching her eyes and blaming himself. If he hadn't been sleeping, maybe she wouldn't have run off and done what she had. Maybe he could have stopped it. "Listen to me," he implored, barely able to keep his voice even. "Lucifer would have found a way to get Sam to say yes. With you or without you." It was true. He wasn't lying for her benefit.
Her expression crumbled even further. "It's my fault," she insisted brokenly and shook her head just barely, seemingly unable to summon the strength for more. "I fucked up the whole world. If I hadn't done what I did, Sam might not have said yes," she looked Cas in the eye, mournful, terrified. "He can't fight Lucifer, he's too strong. Michael's as good as dead. And I did this."
She coughed weakly and blood trickled out of her nose. Cas felt a wave of fear crash over him. He wiped the blood away with his thumb, trying not to look as terrified as he felt. She caught hold of his wrist feebly and looked, seeing the blood. She grew quiet, her eyebrows moving together just slightly. He saw that she was afraid, that she knew. He moved his hand to hold hers gently. He didn't want her to be afraid—he didn't want this to happen to her. He would give anything to change this. Anything. He tightened his hand on hers and she whispered his name softly, begging him for help that he couldn't give.
Cas bowed his head down toward hers, shut his eyes. He was lost. So lost.
"Cas." Dean's deep, quiet voice startled both of them. The oldest Winchester was standing off by a few steps with his hands in his jacket pockets. He was looking at them with a pained, agonized expression. At the sight of him, Alex looked like she were dreading his reaction, steeling herself for his wrath. That's almost what Castiel expected too, and he stood up, easily holding Alex as he did. He was prepared to walk away if Dean began to assault her verbally.
But Dean didn't say anything. Didn't throw anything in her face, didn't lash out. Just looked at his sister with heartbreaking amounts of empathy and grief. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked her in the softest voice. She looked away, upset. Dean went closer, putting a gentle hand on the back of her neck in an appeal for her gaze. She wouldn't look at him, she had her head turned toward Cas's shoulder and her face was screwed up to keep from crying again.
"Everything's gonna be okay," Dean insisted in a whisper, his hand tightening on the back of her head. He didn't look away from her for a second. She looked at him finally through her emotional agony. "I'm gonna go talk to Sam," he said. "I found out where the chosen field is, where Michael and Lucifer are gonna fight. Chuck told me. It's right outside of Lawrence, at Stull Cemetery, about eight hours from here. Just enough time for me to get there by high noon tomorrow when the showdown starts. I'm gonna take care of all this, you hear me?" She looked at him in a mixture of shame and hope and he shook his head—he appeared as if he might begin to cry at any moment. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry this happened to you," he choked out, eyes glittering with tears. "I wish you would have told me."
She nodded and looked down, a fat tear leaking out and streaking down her cheek. "I should have. I'm sorry." The way she said it in a voice that was strained and high-pitched and cracked made Dean and Cas look at each other in mutual distress.
"Shh," Dean said, refocusing on his sister and keeping his voice calm and collected, assertive, confident. "I'm gonna figure this out. Like I always do."
Cas hesitated. "Dean—are you sure about this? If you couldn't reach him here, how can you do so on the battlefield?"
Dean shrugged hollowly. Cas saw the depth of Dean's hopelessness briefly, but Dean answered in a voice that indicated he didn't seem to care. "I mean, I got nothing to lose by trying, right?"
Cas said nothing, but Alex sniffed in Cas's arms and looked up at Dean. "I have to come with you," she said.
Cas frowned at her, immediately disliking this idea. She needed rest and care, to stay as far away from Lucifer as possible. "Alex, no. You shouldn't travel, you're—"
"Dying," she said, cutting him off quietly. "I know. I know I am. I can feel it." Her expression wavered briefly. "So don't fight me on this. Please." Her voice grew a little more intense, more firm. "This is my fault. And I mean, as long as we're still alive, we have to try and stop Lucifer." She looked cajolingly at Dean, who was fully teary eyed now. And as it always did, the sight of him crying made her waver even more. She pressed her lips inwards, trying to compose herself. "One of our brothers is dying tomorrow," she said to him, her voice breaking, more tears running out of her eyes. "And whichever one it is… I don't think they should have to die alone. I need to be there with you. That's just it."
Dean and Cas looked at each other again for a long, tense moment. They both knew Alex might not even make it through the night. This was in effect her last wish.
"Yeah," Dean agreed softly, nodding hollowly. He swallowed painfully. "Yeah, okay. We do this together. Just like always."
In the dark basement of an abandoned old dance school, Lucifer flexed his right arm, shoulder, then hand, pleased with the feeling of strength and belonging. He walked through the five waiting people, who stood with their eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. Lucifer paid them no mind. Not yet.
He was enjoying this feeling, this triumph. Finally—at last. The only disagreeable thing was how Sam was still so insistent upon not cooperating. He felt the boy inside clawing at the walls. It was almost cute, really. Lucifer looked down at his hand, which clenched and unclenched without him telling it to. He smiled down at the hand almost fondly. "Sam..." he murmured. His hand stilled. "Come on. I can feel you... scratching away in there." In front of him a few steps off there was a cracked old mirror on the wall. Lucifer studied his reflection, Sam's face. "Look... I'll take the gag off, okay?" Lucifer approached the mirror. "You got me all wrong, kiddo. I'm not the bad guy here. Talk to me."
Sam chest heaved up and down, he stared at himself in the mirror venomously. "I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out!" He raged acidly. "Do you understand me?"
Lucifer didn't bat an eye at the threat. "Such anger... Young Skywalker." There was an almost haughty smile, then a concerned stare. "Who are you really angry with?" Lucifer asked. "Me? Or that face in the mirror?"
Sam was near tears, helpless and trapped and wretched, struggling in vain against Lucifer's crushing presence and control. "I'm sure this is all a big joke to you, huh?" he asked, fighting so hard but unable to budge at all. Lucifer was too strong. Much too strong. Just like he'd said.
"Not at all," Lucifer said earnestly. "I've been waiting for you... for a long... long time." Sam could feel Lucifer inside of his mind, attempting to coax him into submission, attempting to soothe him and settle him. Sam resisted all the more, mentally kicking and screaming. Lucifer looked into his reflection deeply. "Admit it—you can feel it too. Beyond this little temper tantrum you're having, you feel the exhilaration. And you know why that is? Because we're two halves made whole…" there was the ghost of a smile on Lucifer's face. "Reunited and it feels so good."
Sam withered, disgusted. "This feels pretty damn far from good," he spat.
Lucifer looked a little disappointed. "Stop trying to lie to me, Sam. You can't. I'm in your head. I can see it all—" his eyes flickered back and forth in thought, Sam could literally feel Lucifer paging through his mind and memories, intruding on everything that he thought and felt. "How odd you always felt, how... out of place in that... 'family' of yours." Lucifer smiled softly even as Sam remained silent, unable to deny how true those things were. "You always knew there was something about you, something different," Lucifer continued. "Maybe you called it dark, but... I call it special. And your sister? She was supposed to be the same way, too. Special."
Sam managed a sneer through his panic. "Well you lose that one, asshole."
Lucifer shrugged his lips downwards briefly, unfazed. "Mm, no. After we fight Michael, we'll go back in time. We'll drip the demon blood into precious baby sister's mouth ourselves, purify her, too. And together—the three of us—we'll begin the new world order."
What? Sam's stomach twisted, his pulse rocketed. Alarm overtook his every sense. "The three of us?" He repeated. Surely Lucifer were joking—this had to be some mistake. "What do you mean?"
Lucifer shrugged mildly, sighed. "Your father... was mistaken. Him warning your sister that the danger wasn't past? He meant this." A little smile grew on Sam's face as Lucifer controlled his body. "He didn't know it was me behind Azazel's every move. Me. Always me."
Sam swallowed, dread building up inside—the small relief that he'd saved Alex was fading, replaced by terror that he'd done something far worse and set something sinister into motion. "W-what are you talking about?"
Lucifer lowered his chin, looked into his eyes knowingly. "I think you might already know, Sam. Come on. Surely you remember… the dreams I had Azazel give to you? Only they weren't dreams. They were visions. Previews of what's to come."
Sam was speechless in horror and Lucifer seemed curious. "You thought my endgame was simply to defeat Michael? Oh no, Sam. You must think me unimaginative. Azazel was doing my work long before you were born. Preparing for this. He didn't even fully understand my plans and I didn't want him to. He wasn't my family like you are. You and I? We'll purge this world of all the filth it holds. Humans. Demons. My disloyal brethren. And we'll fill the earth with the new, perfect creation. Not flawed and defective like the humans, not low black-eyed demon vermin. Not aimless angels loyal to a missing father figure. A new race built on loyalty and love."
Sam stared, aghast. And then his stomach felt like it dropped out completely. "This is where your sister comes in, Sam. I think I should show you more of what the future holds. All I ask is that you remember that greatness—true greatness—requires doing things we may not always find pleasant. Something tells me you won't like this very much. Hold on."
Without warning, Sam was suddenly plunged into a dark world of pain in his mind where he was disembodied and formless, seeing a dark swirling mist around him. He was confused and disoriented. And then the mist parted, he could hazily see Alex. The image came into focus and he could see that behind her, a tall, imposing figure approached. Sam realized that was him, but… no. It couldn't be. His expression was so cruel and cold, he looked hellbent on wickedness. Sam tried to open his mouth and warn his sister, but it was like he didn't exist. He had no mouth, all he could do was watch.
The vision continued: Alex turned, saw Sam approaching her, and fear overcame her features—she whirled to run—but Sam stretched a hand out, she snapped backwards in the air toward him, colliding right up against him with her back into his chest. His strong arms held her there in place and it was distinctly inappropriate, the places his hands were—one hand was splayed against her hip, crushing her to him, one was on the front of her neck and half of her face, holding her tight against him. Sam felt himself recoiling internally at the sight, how his sister struggled away. "Sam, please, no! Stop!" She pleaded.
Sam saw himself lean down, his mouth right at her ear, his hands holding her still easily. "I'm not Sam," he breathed in a low, frightening voice. And with the greatest amount of terror he had ever experienced, ever, Sam understood what this meant. What was happening. Alex began to struggle even more and Lucifer just yanked her back to himself, whispered something in her ear, smoothed her hair back from her neck, leaned down to sensually brush his lips downward against the skin just below her ear.
Sick, revolted, scared beyond wits, Sam tried to escape this visual, tried to scream and help her, but nothing happened. And mercifully, the image faded away, he saw no more. But the terror remained. The mist returned, covering everything with darkness and then parted once more. Sam could hear Alex screaming and grunting with exertion, he saw that she was pregnant and in painful labor, on a dirty floor like an animal as Lucifer stood above her, looking down coldly, contemptuously. There were two black eyed demon nurses at Alex's side, delivering a baby—no, babies. Two of them. And when the newborns were both out—silent and not crying as normal babies do—Alex collapsed backwards, forgotten for the moment as the one of the nurses turned to Lucifer. "Twins, a boy and a girl, as you said." The nurse held one of the children in her arms. The babies both had glowing gray eyes—they were clearly not human.
Lucifer nodded approval as he looked over his son and daughter with a glint of cold pleasure in his eyes, then looked down at Alex, who was wracked in agony on the floor, covered in blood, appearing to be ill beyond compare and almost dead. Lucifer seemed almost sympathetic. "And so you have completed the task I asked of you. We both always knew this day would come, didn't we? You've always stood against me. I've given you chance after chance. I have no more chances left to give to you." His expression darkened. "If you're not with me… you're against me."
He held a hand out, flicked his fingers upwards and Alex shot up through the air, twisted and slammed up into the ceiling back-first. "I truly am sorry it had to be this way, Alexandra," Lucifer said softly, but his voice held no indication that he really was sorry.
She was crying, shaking her head, appealing to him with a cracked, barely-there voice. "Sam… please!" She begged, and blood dripped downward onto the floor below from her stomach. "I know you're in there, please, please… don't do this! Fight him!"
Lucifer looked at her and his eyes darkened. "I'm not Sam." His jaw clenched, a smile ghosted across his lips. "And there's no one left to save you or him." His hand raised again, flames burst into existence all around her and she screamed as the ceiling became an ocean of fire. Lucifer lowered his hand and watched in what appeared to be apathy or boredom as Alex burned on the ceiling, just like Mom had. Just like Jess had.
And the vision was over, but the effect it had on Sam would last for years—and in that moment, the shock, the horror, the absolute repulsion was so strong that Sam was suddenly in control again, just briefly—long enough to fall to all fours and vomit onto the basement floor, and all he could think was he had to kill himself. He had to kill himself. He scrambled to his feet, pitching around as if he were drunk, and with his fist he smashed the corner of the mirror, grabbing a jagged shard of glass. He drew it back to stab himself in the chest, not thinking clearly, just wanting to die, just wanting to keep what he had seen from ever happening, and his hand flew toward his chest… then stopped. He opened his hand without even thinking and the shard fell out down to the floor. Sam felt himself laughing slowly. Deeply. Lucifer shook his head then frowned in faint fascination, wiping the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of Sam's jacket. "What an interesting taste," he commented mildly, then spit and sighed, looking into the nearly shattered mirror. The reflection was jagged, leaving a ghoulish effect. "Sam, Sam, Sam. You can't kill yourself. I won't let you. Not now. Not ever. We'll be together for all eternity, you and I."
"That's my sister you sick bastard!" Sam cried out. He was at the point of tears—in a thousand years he never would have guessed that would be the devil's plan. He would have killed himself years ago if he'd known this. Lucifer let him cry, but only for a moment. He looked at Sam almost sadly.
"Don't look so surprised. I am the devil, Sam… I'm bound to be a little sick and twisted, aren't I? At least from your perspective." He looked at Sam questioningly. "You and your family are direct descendants of Adam and Eve, the mother and father of this pathetic race. Didn't you know Eve was taken from Adam? They were basically twins, Sam; brother and sister: the same DNA, same bloodline… haven't you read the Bible? The first few books are nothing but incest. God got that much right. It keeps the bloodline pure." At Sam's expression, Lucifer blinked once, slowly. "I'm sorry. I know it's not ideal for you."
"Not ideal for me?" Sam repeated. He could barely breathe. "I won't let you do that to her! It's not happening, ever! EVER!" His shouts did nothing, garnered no reaction at all.
"I'm sorry... but it is," Lucifer said plainly. The unaffected, unperturbed reply made Sam want to be sick again. He stared in breathless horror, shaking his head, so afraid.
"No, no, no no no no!" Sam repeated over and over, reduced to nothing but quivering fear and abhorrence. Lucifer was slowly reeling him in, allowing less and less of Sam to come through—it was like slowly being choked, slowly fading into unconsciousness. Sam fought valiantly, but Lucifer just shrugged as if helpless.
"Yes. It has to be this way Sam, has to be the same bloodline, has to be twins... like it or not. Has to be the two of you. We'll purify her with demon blood, she'll carry Nephilim twins… and then they'll become the true mother and father of my new race. Our new race. It's only once that we have to do what must be done with your sister." Sam wanted to die when Lucifer said that, panic racing through him because he already knew he couldn't resist Lucifer, couldn't control him at all. Satan was going to rape his sister using his body. Sam would have passed out, such was his distress, if Lucifer didn't have such full control.
"Sam, breathe. It'll be over fast, I promise. I understand that you find it unsavory. I'll do whatever I can do make it easier for you. Maybe we can even persuade her to take our side—perhaps she doesn't need to die in the end. But you should be prepared for that outcome, Sam. That's why I gave you those visions. I wanted you to know what your future held. I wanted you to know you'd lose her too. All the important women in your life have died that way, haven't they? She will too, unless she changes her mind and joins us. Joins me."
"No," Sam spat. "I will never let any of that happen! None of it!" He was having to fight with everything he had to even say anything at this point. His body was betraying him, he could barely even think anymore. He had to get out! He had to find a way to stop this! To warn them!
Lucifer looked at him quietly. "In time, you'll feel differently. When I'm king of Heaven, Hell, and everything in between with a new race of children at my feet… your feet… you'll see. You'll be happy Sam. This is how it's supposed to be."
"No," Sam insisted. He tried to shake his head but he couldn't. "I don't care what I have to do—I'll stop you!"
Lucifer sighed. He appeared dissatisfied with Sam's reaction. "You know, all those times you ran away from your problems, your family... you were running towards me, Sam. I'm the one who understands you. I'm the one you've been waiting for you your whole life. You're special. You matter. And this is how." He looked at Sam in a remorseful way. "I understand it may take you some time to come to accept me. But I'm patient. And I'm loyal… to myself most of all. Sam, you and I are one. At last."
Sam managed one last belted-out threat, feeling the words tearing up his throat in a deafening roar and he tried to move his hands toward himself to hurt himself somehow. "I am going to kill you!"
Lucifer almost rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry Sam, but I've grown tired of this little quarrel. I think it's time we stop arguing. Start doing something… productive. Something together." He made Sam look behind them, using the mirror. "Look closely at who I've gathered here. Any of these little devils look familiar to you?"
Sam looked and realized that yes, he recognized every single person there. Lucifer explained for him. "That's Mr. Bensman... one of your old grade-school teachers. And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang—watching you and yours since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam? Come on… it'll make us feel better." Lucifer's pleasant smile sickened Sam. He was losing ground, he could barely manage to say the single word he got out.
"No—" Sam protested, then felt as if a fist closed over him internally. Lucifer was stamping him down like a bug underneath the heel of his boot. And Sam despaired completely.
Lucifer's eyes darkened, his fist clenched. "Yes." He turned around to face the demons circled in the room behind himself, standing at Sam's full height.
The slaughter began. Screaming inside silently, Sam was unable to do anything.