WARNING: one sentence of implied non-con

Sam writhed on the ground at Lucifer's feet, screaming and begging until his throat grew so raw he could hardly make a sound. He looked up into the lifeless silver eyes that had replaced his brother's green ones, and considered strangling himself with the choke chain. Death would be preferable to this nightmare.

"Oh, Sammy," his brother's voice touched his ears and almost gave him hope. Then the head cocked to one side and a vicious smile touched those familiar lips. "What to do with you?"

Sam swallowed, fear making his heart pound warningly in his chest.

Satan knelt and gripped the chain at his neck. "I could torture you. Let Dean wash his hands in your blood. See how long you can hold out without begging dear brother to slit your miserable throat and end all of this for good."

"You're not my brother," Sam spat, moving uncomfortably in his chains. He'd endured so much torture in his life, but the idea of Dean's fingers wielding the scalpel made his stomach turn.

Lucifer smiled. "Or," he ran a possessive finger down Sam's jaw, "There is always violation, and in this body . . ."

The vein in Sam's chin jumped, as if trying to escape the hand. He would have gladly chosen torture over this new option.

"No. No none of that tonight. I have Heaven to see to." He snapped Dean's fingers, and Sam felt his wrists and ankles separate, the binds vanishing into thin air. Satan saw to the chain himself, loosening it gently from Sam's bruised neck and pulling it up over his head.

"Stand."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he obeyed, getting to his shaky feet and never breaking his gaze with the new demon.

"Well, aren't you a sight." Sam didn't dare to look away from the molten eyes to glance at his body, clad in bloodstained white and raw from the restraints, a circular wound in his chest where Abaddon had sliced off his tattoo.

"You, too," Sam sneered. The body of his brother still retained the sanguinary burns about his throat, wrists, ankles and waist.

"I could so easily heal, Sam, but these wounds remind you of the burning I made you feel when I possessed you. They remind you that dear Dean is burning as well." Satan's grin was cruel.

Sam grit his teeth. "I'm begging you. Take me. I'm your true vessel. You'll rip him apart—"

"I'm so very sorry, Sam, but it is you who I would rip apart. I've learned about your cleansing. Painful, like whipping your own back to purge yourself of sin, but though it causes you anguish, you relish the feeling of being clean."

"Dean has always been—"

"What? A righteous man? Naturally. But you should have looked around up here some time. The thoughts, Sam. The deeds. The precious lies of a gut-ripping warrior. He's the one who deserves me, Sam. He's earned me."

Tears rimmed Sam's eyes. "No one deserves you. But I was granted to you by Heaven. Lucifer, take me!"

Another finger snap at the end of Dean's rough hand. Sam looked down and found himself dressed in his v-neck, plaid shirt and jeans.

"Go home, Sam. Accept my mercy. There's nothing more for you here."

Sam looked straight into the eyes of his brother, forcing his gaze to ignore the silver sheen and search out any last bit of the man that had once controlled them. "Dean," he said, desperately, softly, as if he could block out Lucifer and speak directly to the vessel. "You can't leave me here. I know you. It's torturing you to see me this way. Fight it. Take back control!"

The devil laughed. "Poor Sam. But it's not enough. When you stole your body back from me, you were watching your own hands beat him nearly to death on the hood of the car you both call home. Your misery is nothing compared to that. Not while your body is safe."

Sam's face fell, and he realized now why Lucifer hadn't torn into him like a raw steak.

"That's right, Sam," Satan cooed. "He has no power without your pain."

To be continued.