When the world settled around her again, Chrys wanted to look around, but the pain in her abdomen was fading a little, and her thoughts were fuzzy and sluggish. I'm dying, she thought dispassionately. It didn't scare her a bit, her only worry was that Sam had looked so upset the last time she'd seen him. If he were here, she could assure him, tell him she loved him, and that it would be okay.

"Sam…" she slurred softly, her face buried in the cold chest that was holding her.

The arms around her tensed, but didn't hurt her. She was, in fact, as comfortable as someone who'd basically just been disemboweled could be.

They were moving. She was placed on something soft, probably a bed, but the movement caused her muscles to tense. She cried out, pain slamming into her like a freight train.

God dammit, can't I just die already?

"Hush, Chrysanthemum," he said softly. "I'll take care of you."

Cold hands gently moved her own hands away from her stomach, and she whimpered.

"Shh," he hushed softly. He placed his hands on her middle, and warm energy filled her.

Her thoughts became clearer, and she could actually hear her heartbeat get faster again. The pain in her stomach was gone completely.

She opened her eyes to Lucifer standing over her, and again, she felt no fear. Chrys had never thought that Lucifer was going to kill her… Just hurt her.

She sat up slowly, backing up until her back was against the headboard. He straightened, never breaking eye contact with her. "Thank you," she said softly.

He said nothing, just turned and went into an adjoining room. She looked around while he was gone, and realized that they were in the bedroom she'd been in when she was shot.

A faucet ran briefly, then he returned with a glass of water. He walked over and sat on the bed next to her, handing the glass to her. "Drink."

She accepted it silently, and when he stared at her, she took a small sip. "Thank you," she said again.

He nodded. "How are you feeling?"

She blinked. "Do you care?"

Lucifer's eyebrows rose. "Why would I ask if I didn't care?"

"To make me think you care."

He chuckled. "Just answer the question, Chrysanthemum."

She sighed. "I feel fine, Luci. Just tired."

He reached his hand up, and she fought not to flinch when he gently ran a thumb under her eye. "You look tired."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, gee, sure know how to make a girl feel pretty. I'm tired because we're working nonstop to try to stop you."

He sighed. "Chrysanthemum, I will not be stopped. I have to do this. If I don't take the fight to Michael, he will bring it to me."

She glared at him. "So, that's your angle? You don't want to do this? You want to, what, coexist? You running hell and earth, Michael and the other flyboys staying up in heaven?"

He shrugged. "For a start."

She gave a humorless chuckle. "Well, no offense, Luci, but over my dead fucking body."

He examined her closely. "I would never let you die, Chrys."

She stared. She knew that. Lucifer had always been protecting her, from the time she was a child, he'd protected her. He'd also hurt her in unimaginable ways, but he'd never let her just die.

"Why?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

He cupped her face in his cold hand, and she fought the urge to lean into it. Her traitorous body was reacting to him in ways she was really only comfortable with when she was with Sam.

"Because you're mine, Chrysanthemum, love. I want you with me, ruling hell by my side." He gazed into her eyes, and some dark part of her yearned for him. "Don't you want that, dear?"

And if Chrys really thought about it, that dark part of her did. The chance to be the one dealing out the pain, instead of receiving it? The ability to be completely in control of her life, even if it meant torturing souls and causing pain. Yes.

But Sam's face came to mind, Sam's kind, handsome face. And Dean, when he tossed his head back and laughed for real. And Bobby, fussing over the boys.

So instead, though it took all of her will, she shook her head. "No," she said softly, relieved to hear the strength in her voice. "No, I don't. I don't want to be with you."

Her breathing quickened when his thumb dropped to run over her bottom lip. "We'll see," he said softly, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers.

That dark part of Chrys, that she'd tried so hard to smother, lit up and took control. Before she could stop, her hands were fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. Whimpery sounds came from the back of her throat, and she struggled to keep her hips from rolling against him.

She forced herself to pull away, pushing at his shoulders gently as she turned her face. "God dammit, Lucifer," she said softly. "Stop it." Self-loathing so strong it made her wince rose up in her.

He leaned back and watched her with dark eyes. "All right, Chrysanthemum." He stood and held his hand out to her. "We have work to do, anyway."


The hardware store exploded behind them. Sam didn't flinch, but he saw Dean, Ellen, and Jo do it. Sam didn't have time to look behind them.

He had to find Chrys, and Chrys was in front of them.

Panic was gnawing at him like a rabid animal in his stomach. The sight of Chrys, bloodied and dying, in the devil's arms had done something to Sam. He was desperate to get her back, to touch her, to make sure she was all right. He chose not to examine the feeling too closely, just gave in to it.

They ran through the bushes, keeping low to the ground. When they got to a clearing, they saw a crowd of men standing, their attention pointed elsewhere.

"Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople," Dean muttered, surveying the scene in front of them.

The four of them moved forward, trying to be silent as they moved through the crowd.

Lucifer was at the center of the silent men's gazes, filling a hole with a shovel. Chrys was standing near him, watching and chewing on her lip.

The relief that flooded Sam was short-lived. She was alive, and there was no blood in sight. But he had gotten to know her pretty well, and the look on her face said she was terrified, barely holding it together. What the hell is going on?

She was in different clothes than she had been. She was wearing a long white dress, and her hair was loose around her. It's darkness, combined with her pale skin and the white dress, made her ethereal. She looked absolutely lovely.

Sam's blood ran cold when he realized that she actually looked bridal.

It was enough to spur him on. "Hey!" He shouted, aiming the shotgun in his hands at Lucifer.

The look of relief on Chrys's face made his heart beat faster. "Sam!"

Lucifer dropped the shovel and turned. He motioned to Chrys with one hand while smiling at Sam. "Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you. Not really." Chrys approached, and Lucifer slipped his arm around her waist while staring at Sam.

Seeing his hands on Chrys made Sam see red, and he struggled to control his temper.

"Yeah?" Dean said from next to Lucifer. "Well, I'd hurt you."

Dean raised the gun and aimed it point-blank at the devil's forehead.

"Chrys, move!" Sam shouted, his heart in his throat.

She ducked as the gunshot rang out. "Chrys, come here," Sam said urgently, needing to touch her. He held a hand out to her.

She glanced down at the prone body on the ground, then quickly started toward him. Dean was staring at Lucifer when he started to stir.

"Chrysanthemum, dear, stay here," Lucifer groaned as he got up slowly.

Chrys stopped, her eyes begging Sam to forgive her before she turned and walked back toward the angel.

Sam was horrified as Lucifer stood and slung an arm around Chrys's shoulder to prop himself up. He glared at Dean. "Where did you get that?"

He put a hand up in the air and Dean flew back into a tree. "Dean!" Chrys cried, shrugging Lucifer off to run to the injured hunter. She knelt next to him, checking his pulse.

Sam looked back to Lucifer, who was watching Chrys with a bemused look on his face. Lucifer slowly turned back to Sam and smiled. "Don't feel too bad, Sam. There's only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done."

He picked the shovel up and started moving dirt again. Sam ran over to Dean, hearing Ellen and Jo do the same behind him.

When he got there, he knelt on the other side of Dean and took Chrys's face into his hands. She looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, Sam," she whispered. "Bigger fish, handsome."

When he looked over, Lucifer was leaning against the shovel, watching the exchange with cold eyes. He smiled when Sam's gaze landed on him. "You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?"

"It's never gonna happen!" Sam snapped, pulling Chrys around to push her behind him. To his surprise, she went willingly. He felt her press her face into his back, seeking comfort, and somehow giving it, too. Ellen and Jo stepped to either side of him, protecting Chrys and Dean.

Lucifer shrugged and went back to filling the hole. "Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will. I think it'll happen soon. Within six months. I think it'll happen in Detroit." He turned and winked. "And I think Chrysanthemum will be there, too, ready and waiting."

Sam saw red again. "You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!"

Chrys's hand ran up and down his back. "Sam, calm down, he wants you to be angry."

Lucifer hadn't heard her, and was smirking. "That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it."

Sam took a deep breath and focused on Chrys's hand moving up and down the planes of his back. He looked at the group of men standing around them mindlessly. "What did you do? What did you do to this town?"

Lucifer smiled as he continued. "Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man."

"And the rest of them?" Chrys tensed behind him, and Sam could feel her trembling. He shifted to make sure she was completely blocked from Lucifer's view.

Lucifer looked down at the hole he was filling in. "In there. I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so demanding. So it was women and children first." He looked over at them. "I know what you must think of me, Sam. I know Chrysanthemum despises me, for now. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.

Sam frowned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Chrys's hands tightened on the back of his shirt, but she stayed silent.

Lucifer dropped the shovel and turned to him. "I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael… Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different, because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam. Any of this sound familiar?"

Lucifer shook his head and turned to look at the hole again. "Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would."

Chrys tugged on Sam's shirt and he turned. She led him back to Dean, whose head was cradled in Jo's lap. His brother was stirring, and Sam's heart flooded with relief for the second time that night.

And for the second time that night, it was short-lived. Lucifer started speaking, and the hairs on on the back of Sam's neck rose. "Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls."

The people around them spoke, deadpanning. "We offer up our lives, blood, souls."

"To complete this tribute."

"To complete this tribute."

Sam was horrified, and he put his arm out to keep Chrys behind him when Lucifer looked back at them.

"What? They're just demons," the devil said casually.

He turned back to look at the hole. Sam looked around and realized that Ellen and Jo weren't' nearby anymore. When he blinked again, Castiel was standing there, holding a finger to his lips. Sam wrapped his arm around Chrys and held her close as Castiel transported them away.


That night, Chrys was sitting on the hood of one of the cars at Singer's Salvage, watching the stars. She had Sam's coat around her shoulders, and she was smoking.

She heard Dean's boots crunch in the gravel, but she didn't turn around. "Hi, Dean," she said softly.

The car dipped, and he sat next to her on the hood. "How ya holdin' up, Summers? And you should quit smoking."

She shrugged. "Been better, been worse. And fuck you." She looked over at him. "How's your head?"

He shrugged back. "Been better, been worse."

She smiled and faced forward, taking a deep drag and soaking up the silence. She was waiting for him to get bored and leave, which was kind of her plan for not talking to anyone. It had worked with Sam, who had given up fairly quickly.

Dean, however, was a much different creature than Sam. He just sat silently with her, waiting her out.

Fucking Dean.

"You feel like leaving me alone anytime soon?" She snapped, tossing her cigarette butt away and pulling another out.

He leaned back on his hands. "Nope."

She turned to glare at him. "What do you want, Dean?"

"Well," he said calmly, still not looking at her, "I figure that something's wrong. You're not talking to Sammy, and while I understand, because he can be annoying as fuck, you usually talk to him. And since Sam won't just follow you around until you speak, it's up to me."

"Ugh."

He chuckled, but said nothing.

"You're the worst."

More silence.

"God dammit, Dean, I don't want to talk to you."

"Tough, Summers, because we're not going to leave this car until you tell me what's going on."

Fucking Dean. On the surface, Sam was the open, emotional one. He was more willing to talk about his feelings, to the unobservant person, anyway. But Sam could talk someone in circles until they realized that they had told him everything, but he hadn't told them a damn thing.

Dean, on the other hand, didn't like to talk. He much preferred showing someone how much he cared. He checked on people, made sure they ate, mediated arguments. He even still harassed Chrys about smoking, even though Sam had given up that fight long ago.

Fucking Dean.

"Nothing is wrong."

"Bullshit," he said mildly.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Tough."

She groaned, tilting her head back. "Dean, come on-"

"Just talk to me, Chrys," he said softly, seriously.

She sighed. "Lucifer got to me." When he didn't say anything, she felt compelled to continue. "He, uh, he wants me to 'rule hell next to him.'"

Dean was still silent. Fucking Dean. "I just, uh… I was tempted." She winced. "A little, I mean, I just get the draw, my life has never been in my control, and then I would be in control, and I know it would be awful, I mean, I'd be queen of hell, that can't be good, I just-"

"I tortured souls in hell for a decade," Dean said calmly.

Chrys blinked, shock resonating through her. "What?"

He nodded, but kept his gaze forward. "When they dragged me to hell. I was tortured for thirty years. They offered me a chance to get off the rack if I started putting souls on." There was a beat of silence, and she let him have it. It wasn't often that Dean Winchester opened up.

"The opportunity to inflict pain, instead of getting it inflicted on me… It felt good."

He finally met her eyes. "But it's a dark road, Chrys. It's a bad place to be. I get the temptation, don't get me wrong, but it's not worth it."

She nodded and took a drag. "I know. I told him to stuff it. I just… The temptation probably makes me a shit person."

He shook his head. "Nah, saying no makes you a decent person."

And somehow, it was exactly what Chrys needed to hear.


That night, Sam waited for Chrys to come to bed. When she finally did, it was well past midnight. She smelled like smoke and whatever it was clean woman. It was a scent unique to her, and it comforted him.

She seemed surprised to see him awake when she got to their room. "Hi," he said softly, standing. For some reason, he was nervous, and he shoved his hands into his pockets instead of running them through his hair, like he wanted to do.

"Hi," she whispered, smiling up at him.

There was a moment of silence, then they were at each other's mouths. She tasted like cigarettes and Chrys, and it drove him crazy.

His arms were around her waist, and hers were around his neck, and she seemed to fit against him perfectly. Chrys.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. "Are you all right? Really?"

She nodded a little, burrowing closer to him. "Yes, I'm fine, Sam. I was just… Freaked out."

He kissed her gently. "Scared me again," he murmured softly against her.

Her sigh filled some part of his soul up. "I know."

He leaned back and examined her lovely face, her big blue eyes staring up at him. "He didn't… Hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No, he saved me, then he messed with my head, then he kissed me." She frowned. "Then he dressed me up like a goddamn bride and took me to kill a bunch of people."

He watched as she fought her emotions back, and he was a little glad when she couldn't. Keeping shit like this in wasn't healthy.

Tears started forming in her eyes. "Oh, God, Sammy, it was… Awful." She started to take a step back. "I don't want to-"

He stopped her with a gentle hand on the back of her head. He pulled her close and pressed her face into his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. "Shh, Chrys, it's all right."

She froze for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his waist and whimpered. He gently led her to the bed, then pulled her down next to him on top of the blankets. He held her as she cried, tears pricking the backs of his own eyes at her pain.

Chrys cried in his arms for a long time, falling asleep sometime just after the sky started to lighten. Sam slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket, shot Dean a text explaining they wouldn't be at breakfast, then tossed the phone onto the nightstand. He slowly got up, undressed, then pulled as much of Chrys's clothing off as he could without waking her. Once that was done, he managed to get them both in bed with the blankets covering them.

He pulled her close, her face pressed to his chest again, and slept.


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