"Sam? Sammy!"
Hurts, Dean. Can't breathe.
" Let me take a look at you. Hey, it's not that...it's not that bad. We'll patch you up, you'll be good as new. Sam? SAM!"
Is that thunder? Oh God I'm so cold. So cold it burns.
"SAM!"
Lemme 'lone. Tired.
"SAM!"
Sam opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy, slightly skewed, rolling in and out of focus like a ship rocking on heavy seas. Burning white light flashed and fluttered all around the edges of his field of vision. Pain addled his mind, making it difficult to even comprehend what he did see, making him want to flee back into the darkness. The pain was still present there, but more dull, more tolerable, not the sharp agony that met him here. This was a cold pain, like frozen razors cutting through his flesh all the way to the bone. It was a burning cold, a chemical burn, eating away at him like acid from the inside out.
He heard voices, indistinct voices interwoven with the sound of a man screaming in agony. One he recognized as Dean's, the other the low, sing-song voice of Castiel chanting words of a spell. The third voice, the one he heard the most clearly, was his own.
"You're wasting your time, Dean. It's over."
My voice. Not my words.
"Sam, if you're going to do this, you need to do it now!"
What? Do what?
"Dammit, Sam! Wake up!"
Possessed. I'm possessed. Meg.....
No.
Lucifer.
Whether it were in response to Dean's words, or Sam's presence making itself known, Lucifer abruptly turned his attention inward, smashing Sam's consciousness down with a brutal blow. Darkness descended in a burst of needle-like pain. He could feel his body around him but could not control it. That did not cause him pain, only discomfort. The pain came from the possession itself, for he still occupied his body, a body also being forced to house the spirit of one of the most powerful beings in all creation. The human form was not meant to bear such a thing and it reacted accordingly - with an unbelievable amount of pain. Under Lucifer's attack Sam heard the screams change pitch, grow louder. He listened and realized he was the one he'd heard screaming in the background, screaming where no one else could hear.
Stop. Stop. I can't. Stop.
"He can't hear you, Dean."
Sam tried to disengage himself from the pain, tried to listen to the voices beyond the clamor going on inside his head. His vision cleared enough for him to see the fire burning along the lines of their pentagram slowly dying down. He could see his own hands stretched out in front of him, making a soothing gesture.
But he could also feel a strong wind tugging at his hair and clothing. Cas had finished the spell and opened the portal. The prison door stood wide open. Sam couldn't see it – Lucifer faced the wrong direction – but he could feel it. Not only could he feel the maelstrom it created, but also the very strength of it. It drove the truth home. It made Sam realize the full extent of Lucifer's power. Not only had he been locked in this prison, but he'd been sealed into it, and each seal consisted of a number of elements that all had to fall into place just so, before it would break. The scope of it was monumental.
Lucifer had been plotting his escape for thousands of years, and every step he took over the course of that time had led him to one single being, the only one in the universe, who held the key to his freedom.
Sam Winchester.
Lucifer felt Sam's despair and laughed as the fires containing him grew weaker and weaker. In moments it would die out completely and he'd be free to walk away. They would never get him through the portal, and he made it very clear to Sam that when he left he would leave behind no survivors. He'd kill them all – Dean, Bobby, Cas – for in this attempt to capture him they had proved to be a bigger threat than he anticipated. The moment he stepped out of the pentagram, the end of the world would begin.
The line of flames between Lucifer and Dean flickered, struggling against the forces that sought to suppress them, and then, with a puff of smoke, they were gone.
Dean's eyes narrowed. His hand tightened on the hilt of the sword he held, but Sam could see just the barest hint of hesitation in the way he closed his grip. No matter what he told himself, no matter what the truth revealed, Dean would be influenced by what he saw before him, and what he saw was Sam. It was a nanosecond of hesitation, but Sam saw it. If Sam saw it, he had no doubt Lucifer saw it too.
In fact, Sam knew he did. He was no longer in the driver's seat, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel a turn of the wheel. The way his muscles suddenly tensed was all too familiar. He realized the way he moved, the way he gathered himself, all precipitated an attack. He could also feel the energy building within him, Lucifer's power, the supercharged strength of an archangel in his true vessel. What they'd seen him do before now was just the tip of the iceberg.
"Dean," Lucifer said quietly, his voice and manner belying the imminent attack building behind his words. "You're beginning to bore me."
It was launched without warning. In one moment Lucifer stood beyond the barrier, calmly soothing the flames holding him back, and in the next he was coming up behind an unsuspecting Dean, hands poised and ready to break his frail human neck.
NO!
Sam made a mental "grab," blindly seeking anything he could use to stop what was happening, something he'd done only once before, when he'd freed himself from the closet where he'd been trapped by Max Miller. He'd unexpectedly tapped into his abilities, triggering an uncontrolled burst of telekinetic energy. It had hurt and confused him then, just as it hurt and confused him now. But now, just as he had back then, he managed to come up with something useful – and this time he knew how to use it.
It was the same telekinetic energy he'd used to move the cabinet Max had put in front of the closet door. It was much weaker, and Sam's control was only mildly better than it had been the first time, but he knew exactly how and where to direct it to its greatest effect. He threw it down at his own feet.
Lucifer stumbled.
Dean whipped around with the sword, and in the split second before Lucifer recovered, he drew blood. The blade bit deep into Sam's left side, parting flesh and scraping against bone. Sam felt it as a dull, aching pain compared to the raw agony Lucifer was putting him through, but Lucifer felt it too. He staggered slightly as he drew back clutching his side.
"It's like a new pair of shoes, ain't it?" Dean taunted. "Got to break 'em in."
"Or just break them," Lucifer snarled. His retaliation was swift, launched with vicious precision.
Sam retreated, not fast enough.
Lucifer sent him a vision of Hell.
Skinless flesh. Fleshless bones.
Crawling over bodies, some living, some rotting, all still alive.
Screaming. Writhing.
Slipping through blood and bowel.
Lips part over toothless gums, revealing a burnt and blackened tongue.
Eyes unscathed, turn their pleading gaze to an unseen tormentor.
Eyes Sam recognizes.
Dean.
"Real, as real as your brother's memories. I've been in his dreams as I have been in yours. I can make you live his nightmare, Sam. I can make you watch it as it happened, watch him break."
No.
"Then stay out of my way."
Lucifer let him go, allowing him access to the present once again, wanting Sam to bear witness to what happened next. Sam could feel the power building. He could hear the rumbling thunder and crack of lightening beyond the walls of the warehouse. Lucifer was not only utilizing the awesome power he himself wielded, but that of the Earth itself, drawing from the oncoming storm. Not only would he take out Dean, but Castiel, Bobby, the entire building, and everything within a three mile radius.
Instinctively Sam sought out a way to stop it, heedless of Lucifer's threats. He reached out toward the place where he'd found strength before, and found it available again. Lucifer knew it was there, but had not accessed it. While he drew energy from everywhere else, this one small area remained untouched.
Why? Think, Sam, think.
Can't. Can't get my head straight. God, it hurts....
He's not drawing from it because.....why? Wh....wait. It's because he doesn't need it!
It's the blood, the demon blood.
The magic feather.
Castiel's voice: "Dean! The portal! We've got to do this NOW!"
Sam could see Dean's eyes shift toward the center of the circle. He moved toward it, and Lucifer followed, laughing.
"Careful, Dean!" he said, raising his voice to be heard above the storm. "You wouldn't want to get too close."
"Afraid?" Dean waved the sword tauntingly "Come on, I dare you."
That's it, Dean. Keep him distracted.
Ruby had told him he didn't need the magic feather to fly, but Sam thought otherwise. It had bridged the gap between his rigid self control and the demon abilities that had been awakened in him by Azazel. It had primed the pump and unlocked the doors.
But what else could it do?
There's only one way to find out.
"One of us is going to go through that door, Dean, and I can promise you it won't be me!"
Sam wrapped his mind around the power of the demon blood and pulled.
It was like removing the cork from a bottle of Champagne. The cork came out, but so did a fountain of liquid foam. Likewise, when Sam drew upon the demon blood as he had countless times before, it brought with it more than he'd asked for – just as it always did. This time, however, there was more to draw from than his own inherent abilities. He suddenly found himself siphoning off the power Lucifer himself was warehousing, the power he had harnessed from the storm. This was pure, natural energy, so far unadulterated by either good or evil. It came from the Earth itself, God's most cherished creation, and at the moment it was free for the taking.
A sign? Has God really abandoned us?
Suddenly Sam found himself back in the driver's seat.
Startled, he also found it immediately necessary to dodge another sword thrust from Dean. He jumped back, nearly fell, and upon regaining his feet he turned and ran toward the portal. Dean raced after him.
Sam stopped quickly, nearly toppling over the edge of black hole at the center of the room. Inside it dark green clouds rolled and boiled around each other in a a whirling maelstrom. Black lightening flashed in and out of the clouds while winds wailed like the souls of the damned. The whirlwind rose and fell within the confines of the portal, kicking up the air outside it as well. Sam turned around, wind whipping his hair into his face. Dean stood in front of him, poised to strike.
Lucifer seethed with fury, clawing his way back up to challenge Sam's control. The pain made him gasp out loud. He stumbled, clutching his midsection, tears filling his eyes. It felt as if Lucifer were trying to claw his way through his gut, and for all Sam knew, that was the case. He tasted blood at the back of his throat, felt his grip weaken. He could not make the final leap into the maelstrom. Lucifer still stood in his way.
"Dean...." he rasped. "Do it. Hurry."
Dean's scowl deepened. "Sam?"
"Now!" Sam's hands shook, he could feel Lucifer gaining momentum. The demon blood was quickly burning away, and with it would go his access to Lucifer's stockpile. "Dean, you have to help me! I can't...."
The last word came out as a snarl of rage. Sam was losing the battle. Lucifer reclaimed his vessel.
No!
Dean saw it too. He wrapped one hand around Sam's right arm, jerking him close so that he was held poised upon the edge between portal and blade. One move in either direction would end it all.
Lucifer met his gaze, smiling calmly as if he weren't seconds from dying. "You won't do it, Dean. You can't do it. You've known how much of a threat your brother has been for years and yet done nothing. Any other man in your position would have killed him long before now."
"Don't fool yourself," Dean growled. "Get out of my brother you son-of-a-bitch or I'll run you through, I swear to God."
"God?" Lucifer laughed. "You swear to God, who knew it would all come down to this and yet never lifted a finger to stop it? He's a bigger hypocrite than you are. Why should I believe anything you vow to a God neither of us believe in?"
Dean's weight shifted. The sword sliced easily through the cloth of two shirts, skin, and a quarter inch of flesh. "It's just a figure of speech," he hissed. "Get. Out."
"Dean!" Castiel appeared behind him. The angel's shirt was nearly completely soaked with blood, despite his best attempts to staunch it. The sword hadn't just wounded his vessel, but Castiel himself, just as the sword in Dean's hand could kill both Sam and Lucifer. "Dean! What are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now!"
Sam's battered spirit stirred, and he dragged himself back from where Lucifer had thrown him down. The words Castiel spoke triggered a flood of memories, memories of the day Sam chose to listen to Ruby instead of his own heart, his own brother. It was the same day he'd killed an innocent girl for her demon possessed blood, and shattered the last seal holding Lucifer at bay, unleashing the Apocalypse. They had come full circle. It was time to shut the door.
Reaching for the magic feather one last time, Sam unleashed every ounce of determination, every modicum of Winchester stubbornness left in him and gathered up all the energy he could still access. With it he would make one last bold move. It wasn't much, but then, he didn't need much.
He shoved Lucifer out of the way, brutally taking back what was his, and looked his brother in the eye. In a split second Sam saw recognition, and he saw fear. Dean knew what he was going to do before even one word was spoken.
"If you won't, Dean," Sam whispered. "I will."
Dean's eyes widened. He tried to pull back but couldn't for Sam's iron grip around his wrist. "No!"
Lucifer tried to stop him too, and failed. Sam was in control when he lurched forward onto the blade, but it was Lucifer's scream they all heard when Dean frantically withdrew the sword and sent Sam's body staggering backward into the portal. The maelstrom within rose up to meet him, winds screaming in a furious wail. The whirling winds lifted him off his feet and carried him into the air, suspended six feet above the opening below.
Sam's back arched, his head tipped back and his voice rose in agony as a burning light suddenly burst out from every pore. Castiel screamed for Dean to get down and cover his eyes, but the precaution was unnecessary. As soon as the light touched the swirling clouds it was sucked away in a crackle of lightening. Sam felt it more than saw it, felt it as if every piece of flesh was being stripped away from his body, but it was Lucifer being stripped from him, Lucifer being dragged back into his prison.
"Close it!" Dean looked back over his shoulder. "Cas! Close the door!" He turned back to the whirlwind, struggling to keep his feet. "Sam!"
"I can't! You're in the way!" Castiel screamed. "Let him go!"
"No!"
Cas grabbed him by the shoulder. "Dean, please! You can't help him!"
Dean shook him off angrily. "Just shut the damn door, Cas! Shut it with me in it, I don't give a rat's ass!" He turned back to the whirlwind. "Sam!" He reached out a hand. "SAM!"
Can't. Tired.
"SAMMY TAKE MY HAND!"
I can't. Let me go, just let me go....
Another screaming voice echoed his own. It screamed not in pain, but in rage. Sam moved his head, peering down through the center of the swirling clouds to see a blinding white light rushing back toward him. It moved with all the speed and strength of a locomotive, roaring toward Sam as if to run him over. That was not, however, its intention. It was Lucifer, attempting to reclaim his vessel and his last chance at freedom. Sam could already feel the devil's cold, cruel presence prying at the edges of his consciousness.
Oh God, no! He's coming. He's coming back! Dean....close....the....
"DOOR!" Sam shrieked. "Dean!" He twisted his head, trying desperately to see, to grab onto something to stop his wild ride and get out of Lucifer's path. "Dean!" His arms flailed, he reached out for his brother's hand once, and missed. "Help me!" He reached again...
A hand slapped against his. Fingers closed tight around his wrist and began to pull. Sam cried out as his spinning body lurched to a stop. He heard Dean grunt, got a glimpse of closed eyes and clenched teeth, before he was pulled free of the whirling maelstrom and they both hit the floor with bruising force. Dean was bellowing at the top of his lungs:
"NOW, CAS! NOW!"
There was a deafening roar and then.....silence. Dean appeared in Sam's rapidly diminishing field of vision. He said something, Sam's name perhaps, but Sam never heard him.
Sam lost two weeks in a pain and drug induced haze. The only thing he remembered clearly was Dean's shouting match with a trio of doctors regarding just what narcotic Sam was withdrawing from, and a very peculiar hallucination featuring Jo Harvell and a bright yellow Yo-Yo.
"See, it's called walking the dog...."
He also vaguely recalled a conversation with Gil Grissom regarding the forensics of stab wounds before waking up in a bed filled with blood and Bobby bellowing expletives at an orderly.
"That was real enough," Bobby said. "You'd ripped out all your sutures. Nearly bled to death right there in ICU because some idjit fell asleep on the job."
"How crappy would that have been?"
"Besides the obvious dying part?" Bobby snorted. "Pretty crappy."
They were back at Bobby's, having escaped the hospital before more questions could be asked. Sam would complete his recovery under the supervision of Bobby's current physician, a man who knew both Bobby, and what Bobby did for a living, very well. Sam was still off his feet, as weak as a kitten after extensive surgery and a lengthy, extremely unpleasant detox. He currently got around in a wheelchair, and was reminded daily by Bobby how lucky he was it wouldn't be a permanent fixture. The sword had missed his spine by less than an inch.
The door opened. Dean arrived with beer. He stopped at the edge of the living room where Sam and Bobby had been watching television, and chuckled. "Oh look, bookends."
Both of them shot him the bird.
Bobby took the beer into the kitchen. Dean sat down in a chair next to Sam and pulled a package of beer nuts out of his coat pocket. "I'm starved."
Sam, his own diet severely restricted until he healed, snorted. "What else is new?"
"Dunno. It's been real quiet. Heard a rumor today though."
"Yeah?"
"Demons are scared shitless."
With a scowl, Sam asked, "Scared of what?"
Dean grinned. "Us."
"Really?" Sam cocked a brow. "Seriously?"
"We scotched the devil. We're gods, Sammy."
"That's more than a little pretentious don't you think?"
"I'm milkin' it."
After a moment, Sam said, "You wouldn't get me a drink would you?"
Dean scowled at him.
Sam scowled back. "I'm sick."
"Your arms work."
"I'm tired."
Rising, Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. "Sheesh, as if you got a belly full of steel or something."
"I'm milkin' it," Sam called, grinning. "Tea! With lemon."
A minute later Dean came back with a diet cola and dumped it unceremoniously into his brother's lap.
"Gods don't do tea bags."
Sam sighed wearily, but couldn't help cracking a smile. It'd be a long time before they'd be able to get back on the road together, and maybe that was a good thing. There were fences to mend, and emotional wounds to heal. He had a lot to make up for – again. Dean had left much unspoken – as usual.
But eventually we'll meet somewhere in the middle, and everything will be all right, just like always.