So It Begins

The headache pounding away between Sam's eyes drew him from the maps he was looking at. He winced, putting his hand to his face, eyes sliding closed.

Oh god, this hurt.

And he thought maybe he'd seen Dean.

Sam couldn't connect the dots though, the pieces too far apart, too fragmented, to make any sense whatsoever. Ruby was by his side immediately, one hand going to his arm, the other reaching up to touch his face. A slight tremble went through Sam at her touch.

"What is it?" she asked. "Sammy, talk to me."

Sam grunted, and then answered, "Headache."

"You need more blood," Ruby told him.

She left his side, and before Sam knew it, she was pulling up a chair to sit herself down in, and taking off her leather jacket. She held a knife, hilt out towards him. Sam pulled his hand away from his face to stare.

"No, I can't," he said.

"Sam, you get headaches when you need blood, and if you don't stop it it only gets worse. You'll be down and out. Do you really want that? When you want to find Dean?"

One mention of Dean and it was all Sam needed to know Ruby was right. He couldn't be having debilitating withdrawals when Dean was what he needed, when he was his sole mission for now.

Sam let out a disgruntled growl, took the blade, and then grabbed her arm, slicing into it. His body did not ignore that Ruby moaned when he broke her skin. And then she moaned as he leaned down, and brought her bleeding arm up, as he licked, as he sucked.

"That's it, Sammy. Good."

Sam groaned at the praise, lowering to his knees, pressing against her. With his arm he held her legs up against himself, hugging her to him. There wasn't anything but this. The pounding in his head was lessening as hot power went over his tongue and then down to his stomach. It spread into his veins, into his system, and it was hot, red. Sam was buzzing and tingling from it, and his whole body was awash with this sensual heat, like the way his mouth felt after a shot of vodka.

Headache completely gone now, feeling sated, Sam pulled back from her, but looked up into her dark eyes as he started kissing a trail up her arm.

"Sam, I thought we had work to do."

As an answer he just licked her skin. He did have work to do, but the part of him high on demon blood wanted this. For now it was the only part of him.

"Don't tell me I'm not turning you on," he said.

"You are."

"Then—"

"Sam, as much as I'd love to have you right now, I think you'll regret it. At least… now you will, now that you know, that you remember."

Sam pulled back at her words, realizing that she was right. With the rush in him, taking over everything, he'd forgotten what he hated about himself, forgotten what he'd done, done to her, repeatedly.

But then he argued, "It won't be like that this time."

"You're mad at me, remember?"

"Do you not want to?"

"I'm just worried you don't really want to. I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

"And… what would he do?" Sam asked.

Ruby pressed her legs closer up against him and put a hand in his hair. She twisted her hand in his brown locks, and she pulled, tilting his head back. Both their mouths were open, heavy breaths leaving them, as they stared at each other.

"You know."

So Sam withdrew. He heaved out a long breath, trying to clear the arousal from his head, his blood, but it stayed. The blood licked and caressed him, and it carried him up and up and up. Warmth lived in him, and he almost wanted more of it.

Somewhere in his mind, Dean was still there, at some camp or whatever, but Sam wasn't sure he trusted that. It was just his imagination.

And with the headaches gone, he could now focus on actually finding Dean, not just hoping he'd gotten together a group of survivors and had made a settlement of some sort.

They weren't in the kitchen any longer, were in what had been some doctor's main office. It wasn't very large, given that mental health facilities probably hadn't gotten much funding before the Apocalypse, but it would do. There were maps on the desk, and they had red pens. Some locations were already marked, hot spots, quarantine zones. Sam and Ruby had spent the past half hour pouring over them with her explaining it all to him.

The world was broken up, damaged.

Europe, Asia, and Africa were handling themselves a bit better than North America, but Sam wasn't very surprised at that. Maybe there had been the "American Dream," or America thought itself the greatest country in the world, but really, it'd been a mess. That's what happened when it you built a country on the genocide of indigenous peoples. You couldn't really go up from there.

"So we don't know where Dean is," Sam eventually said, looking back at the top map now.

There was a question mark out near Kansas, maybe a spot where Dean had been? Sam wasn't too sure.

Ruby stood now, going to his side. Her arm instinctively went around his waist. Sam leaned into it, even as he burned with some sort of unpleasant emotion.

"We thought we had him once. He doesn't make it easy for us. Five years and Lucifer hasn't been able to find him."

Right. Lucifer.

Sam called into his head, hoping— well, he wasn't sure what he was hoping for: Hello?

Silence.

But then, after a few moments of waiting he got back a low, gravelly, Sa-ammy. It dragged out all soft and sensual, like fingers brushing against silk. The pleasantness of it brought on disgust, horror. Sam shuddered.

"You okay?" Ruby asked, noticing it.

"It's him," he responded, knowing she would understand what he was talking about. "Okay," he continued, picking up the top map and examining it. He was comparing it to the one underneath. He furrowed his brow. "Why is Houston marked?"

"President had it bombed. I guess Lucifer thought it could be a good place to set up shop."

"Is anything… there?" Sam asked.

Ruby started rifling through the maps, and picked out a specific one. It was of Texas, and it had a copious amount of notes on it: quarantine zones, Croat hot spots, the territories of demons, military bases, and tentative markings of human settlements.

"We're not sure," she responded. "Lucifer hasn't been able to get in close enough to see. Military's packed in too tight."

Sam tilted his head over his map, and looked down at the one of Texas on the desk. Then he looked at the one he held.

"Would Dean be there by any chance? Since we can't get in it'd be a good place to hide."

Ruby's mouth pulled down in a frustrated curve. "I don't know. Hard to say."

"Maybe we should check Houston," he said.

"Sam, the military—"

"Will be dealt with," he finished, cutting her off. "Alright, what do we have for vehicles? And what's the numbers? How many demons?"

"Sam, you can't just go out to Houston because you feel like it."

"Why not?"

Ruby took the map from his hands, and then held them, pulling him close, making sure he was looking at her.

"The demons, they don't know you're… you. They don't know, and if they did, I… I know you were meant to be the Boy King, but that was years ago. Who knows if they respect you anymore? Now they just see you as Lucifer's bitch."

Yes, my bitch. The cold words invaded his head, and Sam shuddered. In every sense of the term, it went on.

Shut up.

"Sam?"

"What if I pretend?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if I pretend I'm him?"

Ruby shook her head, but lowered her gaze, thinking. "I don't know… It might be too much for you."

"Ruby, who's in charge here?" Sam asked.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, knowing that Sam was suddenly in a different mood, or wasn't here for her being gentle with him.

"Until Lucifer takes control again, you are."

"Good. Now get me a count of our forces. We'll leave some demons here, make the humans think this place can still be of interest to them. And we'll march for Houston in two hours. Get me a count of vehicles, weapons. Get what you can fixed up."

"And then what?" she asked, though she was already stepping away to do as he said since it was a clear order and she had no choice but to follow it.

"Then we attack whatever part of the army was stupid enough to set up camp near there. Maybe we can even lay siege."

"And Dean?"

"He'll come to me."

"Are you sure? He wants the Colt, and—"

"He'll come to me!" Sam snapped, looking back at his desk now, fists planted on the wood. He didn't have time to see the hurt or the anger that was probably on Ruby's face and threaded into her stance. "Now, go. Do as I said."

"As you wish, Sam."

Good, the voice in his head purred. Sam closed his eyes, groaning, as pleasure flooded him. Good, Sammy.

Sam wondered if he ordered that voice around if it would listen. It hadn't earlier, but maybe if he tried hard enough…

You can't silence me. I am you.

No, you're the Devil.

Same thing.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and he tensed, his knuckles turning white. He did what he could to keep himself from wiping everything off the desk with a violent sweep of his arm. Hell, he even wanted to flip it over, see if he was strong enough to throw it with Lucifer possessing him.

Do it, the voice urged. See how powerful I've made you.

No.

Admit it, it's tempting.

No.

Is that the only word you know?

Shut. Up.

I'll be around.

Sam hung his head, breathing heavy. The voice seemed to have left him for now, but there was still that niggling feeling in his head, like pressure, like pleasure, like… like he wasn't alone.

Am I doing the right thing? Sam wondered.

There was no answer this time.

And he wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

In two hours, a third of the demons that had been in the city the sanitarium was in were ready to march. There were vehicles; trucks, jeeps, but not enough to hold his army. The rest of the demons would be staying put, making it seem like Lucifer could still be there. It was probably best to throw off the humans.

Sam knew there was a camp of demons near Houston that he could meet up with, order, take under his control.

As he sat in the back of a jeep with Ruby, some demon he didn't know the name of driving, Ruby asked, "Why aren't we just, you know, blipping over there?"

The column began to move out, now that the head of the column was making sufficient distance down the ruined street.

"Blipping?" Sam asked.

"You can fly."

Sam pulled his lips into a straight line.

No. No flying. He didn't want that. He didn't want what Lucifer had given to him, not even now.

He didn't, right?

It wasn't Lucifer that had gotten the demons moving, that had come up with a plan. That was Sam. And it was just Sam. Or so he hoped. But there was a rush he felt at having so many listen to his orders, at knowing they were all under his control. All he had to do was say the word and they'd do anything he wished. Even Ruby was his to control.

That thought made a cramp start forming in the pit of his stomach, and he shifted with discomfort.

"And the rest of us — we can teleport."

"I want the humans to know we're on the move."

"How come?"

"Because it'll get back to Dean that way."

"I still don't know what you think you're going to accomplish in Houston."

"I'm going to conquer. Isn't that what I should want? More of the world in my grasp?"

There was a long pause, Ruby taking in his words, and then she asked, voice low, "Are you sure about this?"

"No. But we're all damned anyway, aren't we? So let's make it count."

A light rain began to fall, pattering on the roof of the jeep, as the column moved out. And Sam searched in his head for… for that thing, for him.

What the hell am I doing? he asked. There was no answer, but some small part of him was doing just what he thought he wanted him to do.

But he wasn't going to be the Devil's bitch, or his slave. Sam was calling the shots now, even in a world where the Devil reigned.

The jeep was attacked thirty miles outside of Camp Chitaqua. Croats.

They must've broken lose from one of the quarantine zones, made it past the army, either by infecting them or killing them. Dean knew it was most likely the former. Something about the virus made the Croats want to add more to their own, make their numbers grow.

Croats were fighting to get into the jeep, and with all their tugging and scraping, one of the doors in the back had gotten open. Springer's leg was grabbed. He was kicking, trying to get free. Colby had been shooting Croats at nearly point blank, right between the eyes, but now he paused to help Springer. That was when the Croats went for him. There were a few heart-pounding and tense seconds, but he managed to fend them off for now.

Dean was trying to maneuver the jeep, to get them out of there, but there were so many, and he could only run over so many bodies before an impassible hill was made of the dead.

Castiel was by his side still, a knife in hand, and Dean was itching to draw his gun.

"Springer, get your ass back in here!" he called as the Croats pulled at him harder.

"I'm trying, sir!" he answered, though his voice was tight with fear.

He was dragged out of the jeep.

Fuck.

Colby was screaming for Springer, and Springer was shrieking. Dean didn't see what happened next, but he knew that Springer was gone, was no more. The Croats had infected him. It wouldn't take effect right away, and Dean could imagine him wandering around the streets, the wilderness, whimpering and crying, feeling all the loneliness of the world, before the virus finally fully infected him and took hold.

His last moments would be spent in fear and abandonment.

Dean hated himself for it.

Colby tried jumping out, probably to save Springer, but Cas grabbed him. Colby was fighting, kicking, clawing.

"He's gone!" Castiel yelled. "He's gone! Let him go."

"No! No-o!"

Dean took out his Colt MK IV, the gun that had lasted years and been so handy during the Apocalypse, and he started firing, trying to clear a path. A Croat tried to get his door open, and he shot it, before keeping one hand on the handle, pulling inward.

They are not getting in here.

Finally, there was an opening. Dean stepped down hard on the gas. The jeep shot forward, hit some Croats, and they went down under the wheels. It was definitely the most bumpy ride Dean had ever been on. But soon they were shooting away, back into the open land, free of the infected.

Colby had stopped fighting, just stayed still, a tear rolling down his cheek. Castiel let him go, and pat him on the chest. He took his seat again, Colby doing the same.

Just another day in Hell on Earth.

The rain stopped, the sun went down, and they hadn't reached their destination yet. But they were going to set up camp. Now that they were paused, Dean had time to think about what had happened, had time to blame himself for it.

So as he sat by the fire a couple feet outside his tent, he was drinking.

Castiel came and sat down on the felled log beside him. He took the drink from Dean, sharing it with him, and Dean was too tired to refute him, to say anything, really.

"It wasn't your fault," Castiel said.

"Wasn't it? I had him come out with us."

"And he was one of your soldiers. He would've followed you anywhere. They all would."

Dean took the flask back, drank till his mouth and throat burned, and then he said, "Yeah, well maybe they shouldn't."

"This isn't the first time you've doubted yourself."

"And it sure ain't gonna be the last."

He passed the flask back to Castiel. The former angel drank.

"But that doesn't mean we stop," Castiel said after he swallowed.

"Look at you, spouting words of wisdom," Dean ribbed.

"I can do that occasionally, you know."

"But what now?" Dean asked.

He looked across the clearing where they'd set up camp for the night. Colby was already asleep. Dean was starting to wish he'd brought more people with him, or possibly hadn't brought anyone with him at all. There was strength in numbers, but if no one was around to die, then maybe Dean's guilt wouldn't hit him so hard. But it did, and it was like rocks piling up on him underwater, and they kept him from rising.

Dean drowned.

When Castiel put the flask aside, and began to caress Dean's thigh, drawing him towards him, Dean was relieved. At least with sex he didn't have to think, just had to feel, and just knew that for the moment he was there with that other person, there with Cas.

It was what Dean wanted. And maybe after such a shit day, it was what he needed.

They hadn't had much for dinner, and they'd burn away the calories they'd taken in, but god, maybe it didn't matter. Dean just needed Cas right now. And it seemed like Cas needed him.

Dean pushed back and then swung his leg over the log so that he was straddling it (though he'd much rather be straddling Castiel). That thought in mind, he put one leg over his lap, drawing him close. Maybe what he saw on Castiel's face was a smile; he couldn't be too sure with only the light of the fire. And Castiel didn't smile much anymore. No one did.

Castiel put a hand to the back of Dean's neck, forcing his mouth to his. Dean nearly moaned when their lips met, but he didn't want to wake up Colby.

Castiel's lips were as fine as they always were, soft, warm, and he moved them strongly against Dean's. It sent a tickle down through his throat, his torso, to in between his legs. That tickle became pressure. Dean surged forward, groaning, and he and Castiel fell off the log, on the far side of the fire.

Castiel laughed, but Dean was soon covering his mouth with his own, trying to keep him quiet.

"Dean…" Castiel said in between a kiss.

"Mm!"

"Dean…"

Dean pulled back, though he wanted to kiss him till both their mouths were swollen. "Yeah?"

"Maybe we should take it to your tent."

So that's what they did. Dean was in a hurry to take his clothes off, and Castiel was too. When they came together again it was when all they'd feel was skin. They knelt in the tent, and Castiel — always brave now that he tended to host orgies — had his hand already sneaking down to Dean's ass. Dean growled at him when he squeezed, and Castiel just gave him a knowing look. One brow raised.

"You know one of us is gonna have to keep watch after this," Dean said.

"And?"

"We're gonna be tired as shit."

"I'll do it."

"Fine, just remember you said that."

Castiel began to caress Dean's body, hands light, but wanting, and Dean groaned. His body warmed at Castiel's touch, and he began to harden.

"What were we talking about?" Castiel asked.

Dean cracked a grin, but that soon changed into a look of aroused disbelief when Castiel lowered himself, mouth close to Dean's cock.

Dean chuckled, though he found it hard to even think straight.

"Skipping some basic foreplay, huh?"

"Calm down. I'll kiss your chest later." Castiel winked at him, and Dean knew what that meant. He'd be paying attention to his nipples after. God, Dean loved when he did that.

Sometimes Dean liked to be more in charge, well, while still ending up with Castiel inside of him. But sometimes it was a fight. Castiel was really the most dominant one here. It made all of Dean just sing with pleasure.

His mouth opened in a silent moan as Castiel took him into his mouth. He couldn't take him in all the way, even with practice, but Dean didn't care. His mouth was wonderful as it was, so warm, so wet. Oh god. Dean moaned. Castiel began to pump him, and his other hand played up and down Dean's back. It was gentle, and the pleasure was infuriatingly acute, enough to have Dean arching away from his hand, and further into Castiel's mouth.

The son of a bitch, that was probably his plan.

Dean's back was on fire from Castiel's simple touch, and his cock was even moreso. Oh fuck, he had the best mouth.

The sounds that were made as he sucked only served to arouse Dean more, and it didn't escape his notice that Castiel was heavy and hard in between his legs, cock bobbing as he shifted, trying to get a better position.

Dean thrusted forward, needing more, wanting him. And Castiel complied as much as he could, but then he pulled back, leaving Dean panting.

His eyes were closed, mouth wide open, as Castiel kissed his way up his body. When he was pressed up against him, hardness against his thigh, he took one of Dean's nipples into his mouth.

Dean grasped the back of Castiel's head, holding him to him as his mouth worked. Any attention given to him here just made a twang of pleasure shoot through his body, down to where he couldn't take it anymore.

When Castiel tackled him onto his back, mouth going to his other nipple, Dean was nearly helpless. Though he had fought back a bit, loving any rough moments with the former angel. Castiel hummed against Dean's skin, against his rosy nipple, the vibrations almost too pleasant.

Dean moaned. Castiel had a hand in his hair, and his other one was diligently working over his cock.

"What about you, baby?" Dean asked.

"All I want is to be in you."

Dean's body flushed hot at that, and Castiel grinned, an eyebrow raising. He surely knew what he'd done to him.

"In my pack," Dean said, "there's—"

"Yeah, I know where it is."

Castiel got off Dean, leaving Dean to stretch out in all his naked glory. Dean hadn't really had abs before the Apocalypse, but all of him was muscular now. He needed to be, in order to keep his people safe, in order to survive. So there was the softness of his freckled skin, but the hardness of body, muscles seeming like they'd been etched into being on a statue, the sculptor filled with creative genius. His cock was erect, resting up against his stomach, and it was pink from Castiel's mouth. The head was the same rosy color of his lips, and it was leaking precum.

Castiel, well… Castiel was even more perfect to Dean. His thicker body was hard too, from years of running, fighting. And if Dean didn't try too hard, he wouldn't see the effects of drugs on him. He just saw perfection. Just saw pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes, pink lips. And god, his shoulders. If Dean looked at him from the right angle, it seemed as if there were the bones of wings branching off from Castiel's shoulders. And they were strong shoulders at that. His cock wasn't as long as Dean's, but dear lord, it was thicker. And Dean could stare at him for days. His nipples were hard, and the vein on the underside of his cock was straining. Dean imagined it throbbing hot against his tongue.

Castiel went through Dean's pack, found what he was looking for, and then he came over and wet his hand with it. Dean was already spreading his legs for him. He grunted as he felt Castiel's touch, and as it penetrated. Dean was breathing deep into his belly, making himself relax. It was hard to do so, the tension from the day digging its hooks into him.

"You need to get better at relaxing," Castiel told him. "I have something we can both take if you—"

"No. No drugs," Dean argued. "Just kiss me."

And Castiel did so, his tongue entering Dean's mouth. Dean playfully let his teeth scrape against it. Cas moaned and then deepened the kiss, and with him kissing him so thoroughly till he was almost out of it, Dean's body was able to relax. It let Castiel slide in. Dean spread his legs further, the action involuntary, and lifted them a bit too. And then he whimpered, he god damn whimpered, as Castiel found that lovely spot inside of him. Pleasure had stabbed through him in an arc right to his cock, and now it was leaking precum fiercely. Castiel added another finger and rubbed.

Dean was helpless as he kissed him, feeling too good to do anything, just let himself be taken.

"There we go," Cas breathed. "That's it, Dean."

Dean still didn't know where the angel — former angel — had learned about dirty talking or a praise kink, but god damn it, he had to personally thank whoever had done so. Probably one of the women at camp. Or maybe they'd all taught him. To Dean's surprise, he didn't feel the usual bite of jealousy he did at the prospect of Cas sleeping with someone else. He just imagined him, flesh bare and exposed, surrounded by naked female bodies, and they writhed and grinded, and Cas took and took.

In a flash, Dean reached down, pulling Cas' hand away.

"God, no. Gonna make me cum."

"That's the idea."

"Get in me."

"I was," Castiel answered, giving him a coy look.

Dean growled, lifting himself up on his elbows.

"You know what I mean."

Castiel started going closer to Dean's head, up his body. Dean's cheeks flushed more furiously as a moan left him at the sight of Castiel's cock so close to his mouth.

"Be good first."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, springing forward to take Castiel's cock into his mouth. He closed his eyes, moaning around the hardened flesh. Sucking Castiel's cock was second nature to Dean now. He loved it, he wanted it. Sometimes when he was all alone in his cabin pouring over some maps or papers, he found himself wanting it. But all he could really stick for was putting a pen in his mouth. Dean just felt like he had to have things in his mouth.

His favorite things to have in his mouth were beer bottles and Castiel.

And this time didn't disappoint. Dean was used to the salty flavor of precum, and didn't mind it one bit. He bobbed his head and sucked as much as he could, even did his best to coat Castiel in spit. His stomach was flipping over and over on itself whenever Castiel's cock twitched or throbbed.

Fuck, Cas wanted him.

Dean wanted Cas.

Not feeling like using words, Dean pulled off of him, and then rolled onto his stomach. He lifted up just his ass, getting on his knees, and he gyrated his hips suggestively.

Castiel got the idea.

When he began to thrust into Dean, Dean forgot all about his day. He forgot about the past week, the past month, the past year, the past five years. There wasn't Hell on Earth, or the demons, or the Croats, or people relying on him. It was just him and Castiel, as one, flesh together.

Dean's body accepted Castiel's readily, and he let out an animalistic groan as that large, thick cock plunged into him. Castiel had ahold of his hips with those big hands of his, and Dean swore he was going to lose his mind.

When the thickened head of his cock found his prostrate, Dean bit his sleeping bag, crying out against it.

And Castiel went at him, hips moving like fluid at first, not reaching all the way in. But Dean wanted to change that. Now with each one of Castiel's thrusts he brought himself back, more forceful each time, slamming against him. He just wanted him, and this wasn't enough.

Castiel got the idea and fucked him harder, their skin slapping together. And oh fuck, he reached so deep like this. Dean was going wild, biting down harder on his sleeping bag, tears leaking from his eyes, trying desperately to not scream.

Castiel pulled out of him, much to Dean's chagrin, and Dean released the sleeping bag, mouth falling open, head tilting to the side.

"Lie down," Castiel told him.

Dean did as he said, and then Castiel was lying down behind Dean, both of them on their sides. Castiel put a leg in between Dean's, and then he was entering him again. His other hand reached around to pump his cock. Dean bit his bottom lip till he bled as Cas took him in this position. Castiel planted kisses all over his face. And his mouth occasionally went to his shoulder, leaving marks of red.

Dean wanted marks of black and blue too, but it wasn't a good night for that. Maybe when they were back at the camp, he'd ask Cas to hurt him, but for now, this was good, this was what he needed.

The pains of the day were obliterated as Dean came, and he came hard. Castiel soon followed. They lay like that for a long time, Castiel caressing Dean, an arm wrapped around him, and Dean felt over his forearm with his fingertips. Castiel kissed his cheek.

God, he wished he'd fucked him like this before the Apocalypse. Maybe then he would've learned a thing or two much faster, or they would've at least been together. But now Cas liked to get high, liked to have orgies, and Dean liked to sleep around when he got upset.

But there was none of that for now.

Still, the real world existed.

"You should get back out there," Dean said. "You're taking first watch."

Castiel grabbed his earlobe with his teeth and pulled at it, growling playfully, and then he grabbed a towel from his pack to dry himself off. He playfully tossed it at Dean, who caught it, when he started to get dressed.

And then he was on his way out. Dean watched his retreating form, and then his shadow against the closed flap of the tent as it got smaller and smaller.

Dean lay back down, breathing hard.

Springer's screams sounded in his head, sharp, and incisive, so powerful he thought his ears would bleed.

Reality called. It wanted its suffering back.

Demons didn't need sleep (though they could do so if they wanted to), and they could keep going all night, so Sam didn't tell them to set up camp, even when his headaches started, even when flashes of his brother and Castiel came with them. But even though they kept moving he still needed to sleep, which was something he had to hide from them, so he and Ruby ended up in a large military truck, the back covered with canvas. She drove, and he tried to get to sleep in the back. It had irked him that the back was open to the elements and to the view of those closest in the column behind him, so he'd tied some tarp in place. It was dark now, the sky cloudy that night, no light pouring through.

Perhaps that was what Sam needed to sleep. No light.

But then he realized all he focused on was the sound of the tires rolling against the road, air flapping against the tarp and canvas.

And then there was his breathing. Just his. So empty, alone.

But… he wasn't really alone, was he?

Of course not, bunk buddy.

Sam grit his teeth. Bunk buddy. That was something Lucifer would call him in the Cage, if the Cage was even real.

Well, which one feels more real?

Sam was aggravated from the question, wanted to shout that he didn't know, but instead he just let out a frustrated growl and rolled over, facing the front end of the truck. Maybe thinking about Ruby would help.

Sure, it'll help. She fucked you over after all.

"Enough!" Sam shouted.

"Sam, you okay back there?" Ruby called.

Before Sam could answer there was another presence beside him, and then over him, and a hand was covering his mouth. He tried to scream, but red eyes glowed, and in that light that was barely there he could see Lucifer put a finger to his mouth, a shh motion.

The hand came away from his mouth, and Sam responded, voice weak, shaky, "Yeah—yeah, I'm fine." Then, to Lucifer, who was very much there and very much in the flesh, "What are you doing here?"

"You owe me a favor, remember?"

Sam didn't remember. But it wasn't like the memory was just blank, wholly missing, or something he didn't even realize was missing. There was something there, like a forgotten word on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't find it, couldn't dig deeper. It stayed hidden, frustrating him.

Sam just shook his head, feeling terror pulse through his veins and he started backing away on his hands and knees.

Lucifer let out a huff and sat down on the bench in the truck.

"Where are you gonna go?" he asked.

"Away from you."

"Quiet, or we'll have to tell Ruby what we're up to."

"Doesn't she already know?" Sam asked.

A shrug; that's what that slight, barely imperceptible movement had to be.

"Sammy?" Sam heard Ruby call from the driver's seat.

"Uh…"

"Fine, you want to tell her? Tell her. By all means, I won't stop you. She's not gonna help you though. Usually this is around the time I show up, and well, you know… have my fun."

"It's not fun."

"Says who?"

Sam just growled at him, and then responded to Ruby, "Just… uh, just dealing with Lucifer… again."

There wasn't an answer, and there was a fear that beat in that silence.

Eventually, "Keep him busy."

"Yeah. Yeah, got it."

But already Sam's voice was fading away. Lucifer stood over him, and Sam felt so small.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"You."

The answer was so short and simple and to the point that it made Sam's stomach drop to his feet, his heart claw up into his throat, and ice freeze over his veins.

"Well you can't have me," he tried to snarl, but instead it came out weak, and sounding more like a plea.

"Okay, then you lose all this."

"All what?" Sam asked.

"Your powers, that neat, little thing you can do with your voice. All of it — gone."

"I never wanted it to begin with."

"You sure? What's it giving you? Come on, think!"

Now Sam remembered, and he swallowed hard, even as Lucifer crouched down and snapped his fingers near his face, letting Sam know that he wasn't answering quickly enough.

Finally: "Control."

"That's it! And the prize for a million dollars goes to Sammy Winchester!"

Sam tried getting up, Lucifer settled on him, legs straddling him. Sam grunted.

"So…" Saliva filled his mouth and he couldn't go on. He swallowed it, then tried to start again, "So what do I have to do?"

"Mm, not much."

Sam was taken aback. "Really?"

"What, you think I'm gonna rape you?"

"Uh… yeah?"

"Wro-ong!" he sang. "Ew, Sam, you've got a gross mind." Lucifer shuddered above him, against him, and then he asked, "Are all humans like that?"

Sam tried sitting up, shoving him off.

"Fuck you!"

Lucifer fought him, pinning Sam down against the floor of the truckbed. Sam couldn't see very well, but there was a deeper darkness where he was, and he could feel his cold breath trailing out over his skin, his lips. Oh god, his mouth was so close.

"I just need… one… little… thing."

As Lucifer had spoken his voice lowered, grew breathy, and then his lips were against Sam's.

Sam's face furrowed up in disgust, and he cried out, doing what he could do push Lucifer off of him. Lucifer put a hand to his neck to hold him in place, Sam's stomach flipping at the touch of his skin. As it remained there his stomach decided to upgrade to a nauseous scale of what was probably an eight out of ten. His head spun.

"You don't do this, and it's the Cage."

Immediately Sam brought his head up, his lips forward. At first he awkwardly bumped into Lucifer, but then he was kissing him. Sam had steeled himself for it, but nothing could actually compare to him willingly bringing his lips to Lucifer's. They were soft in the wrong way, shaped in such a way that Sam recognized them as something evil, and they were too wet.

It was all just wrong, and horrible, and disgusting. Sam didn't even like men. And even if he had, Lucifer wouldn't be on his list.

But before he could really start wishing it was over, it was. Just a few seconds and Lucifer pulled away. He pat Sam on the chest, got up, and then he was gone.

Sam exhaled, the air cold around him.