Title: It's a Wonderful Lie (Chapter 2)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Overall Rating: R
Overall Warnings: slash, graphic sex, Lucifer!Dean
This Chapter Warnings: mild violence
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 4.
Disclaimer: Santa didn't leave Dean or Cas for me. Did anyone else have better luck?
Summary: This read this prompt over the summer:
Lucifer!Dean/Castiel, Dean is Lucifer (not possessed) and decides to screw the angels (and demons) over and NOT bring about the apocalypse.
Cas still loves Lucifer!Dean and thus commence the sexin's.
How does Sam react? Not well. Dean has trouble handling the situation.
Chapter 2:
AN: Sorry, I meant to post this yesterday but my will to write left me for nearly 2 weeks. I was supposed to just do a quick look over of this chapter but, I ended up almost completely overhauling the end. I like what came out.
There is Cas this chapter (more than originally planned) and we get a little more into Dean's head. I hope you enjoy that. So without further ado read and enjoy!
Sam awakens for the third time since his capture. He feels like he's only been asleep a few hours but there is no way to know for certain how long he's been here. He hopes that Bobby is looking for him but, the demons could have moved him thousands of miles by now. He might even be in hell. Bobby wouldn't even know where to begin looking. Zachariah would probably have better luck finding him but, he doesn't seem like the rescue party type.
Suddenly, Sam realizes that his hands are free. Someone must have unchained him while he was sleeping. He sits cross-legged on the bed, trying to decide what to try next. He understands that the next time he wakes up he may be handcuffed to the bed again or worse. He should try to escape while he has the chance. He decides to try the door that the demons entered from the first time he was awake.
Unsurprisingly it's locked. He looks around but, there's nothing in the nearly empty room that he can use to pick the lock. The only other option he can think of is to try to break the door down. He rams it with his shoulder. He bounces off and then sets himself up to run at the door again. He continues even as his shoulder radiates with pain. Eventually a crack forms in the door. Sam smiles at it as he pauses to try to catch his breath. Right before his eyes the crack seals up as if it had never been there. Sam lets out a growl of frustration. There goes that plan.
He decides to try the other door. Fortunately, he finds that it's unlocked. Unfortunately, the door opens to reveal a bathroom. That's not really going to help him escape. The toilet, sink, and bath tub are made of white marble. The shower curtain and floor tiles both are decorated with a pattern of interspaced black squares surrounded by white. The floor is partially covered by a furry black carpet. Just like the other room, it's simple but pleasant looking.
Sam's searching the room for anything that could help him escape when he remembers that he hasn't had a shower in at least a day, probably more. He doesn't exactly smell like roses and his body aches from being handcuffed to the bed for an extended period of time. Sam eventually succumbs to the siren song of hot water.
He turns the handle to start the water. He pauses a moment to allow the temperature to adjust before he steps under the spray. The hot water pulsating over his skin allows his tense muscles to relax.
Everything he needs is in the room. An unused bar of soap lies on a small ledge next to a bottle of fruity smelling shampoo. It's the kind Sam would like to buy but, is usually outside their limited budget. (Plus, Sam didn't want to give Dean another reason to call him a girl). Even after he's thoroughly clean he stays under the cascading waterfall. For a little while he allows himself to forget the trouble that he's in. His fingers are beginning to prune by the time Sam finally steps out of the shower.
A metal towel rack just outside the shower holds two white towels that are fluffier than anything he can ever remember using, even when he was at Stanford. He wraps one around himself and exits the bathroom.
When he exits the bathroom, he finds that his dirty clothes have disappeared and there are fresh cloths laid out on the bed. The cloths seem new but, surprisingly comfortable. They fit perfectly and are things he might have, in a different situation, bought for himself. Sam finds the entire situation a little eerie but, he's glad that he doesn't have to put his dirty clothes back on.
Whoever left the clothes also left a tray with food on a small table next to the bed. On the tray are two turkey sandwiches, prepared just how Sam likes them. They were even cut diagonally the way he preferred. There is also a plastic cup filled with diet coke. When Sam thinks about ignoring the meal, his stomach protests with a rumble. Worst case scenario: the food is poisoned but, what would be the point of that? They could have killed him hundreds of times already while he slept. He decides to risk it. It tastes pretty good for being captured food. Most of the time when Sam is captured, which happens pretty frequently in his line of work, his captures don't feed him at all, let alone feed him something that's actually good.
On the opposite side of the tray from the food, in its own little dish, is a bag of ice. There's a note taped to the bag. On it there are three words written in his brother's hand writing: "for your shoulder". Sam's shoulder is still aching slightly from his escape attempt, so once again he decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Sam sits with his feet over the side of the bed. One hand holds the ice to his sore shoulder while he eats his chicken sandwich with the other. Occasionally he lets the ice balance by itself long enough for him to take a sip of his coke. He absentmindedly eats his meal and wonders what he should do next.
***
Despite eating slowly, Sam still doesn't have any concrete plans for escape by the time he's finished his meal. He lies on the bed thinking. He wonders if the thing inside his brother will have any of his brother's weaknesses. If he did, Sam might be able to take him. After all, Sam had beaten him the last time they fought, after he'd escaped from Bobby's panic room. But back then he'd been pumped up on the demonic version of steroids. Now the advantage was to the thing. Speak of the devil…
The door swings open and there stands Lucifer.
"Hey Sammy" he says wearing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He seems nervous. It's reminiscent of when Dean came to get him at Stanford. Sam mentally slaps himself. He has to remember that it's not real. It isn't Dean, just a demon acting the part. "How's it going?"
"I'm fine" Sam answers his gaze glued to the ceiling. His voice is full of obviously false friendliness. "Well you know, as fine as you can be when you're imprisoned by the psychotic lord of hell who's snuggled up inside your brother's meat suit?" Sam tries to sound nonchalant but, it comes out more upset than he intends.
"Sammy" Lucifer sighs. He sits down on the bed next to Sam's outstretched legs. "You know I hate chick flick moments but, we need to talk. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't rule hell but, there is more to it than that. I might be Lucifer but, I'm also still your brother. I'm still in here dude. I'm not going to leave you." He leans over to look at the younger man. He's shocked to see that Sam has his eyes closed and is facing the wall. He looks as though he's asleep but, the other man knows better. Sam's fists are clenched so hard the knuckles are white. He's practically shaking with the urge to slug Lucifer. "Ok man. I'll leave you alone for now but, I'll be back later." Sam hears the door close and he's alone once again.
Lucifer doesn't give up. He shows up in Sam's room a dozen more times. Most visits end just like this one. Sometimes there's yelling. One time Sam even gave in to temptation and punched Lucifer in the face. Lucifer never yells or punches back but it doesn't matter, Sam isn't any more willing to listen than he was the first two times. Still, Lucifer doesn't stop coming.
For awhile Sam fights with everything he has against every demon that walks through his door. He uses anything he can as a weapon, including his dinner tray, soap, the small folding table that the food comes on and even occasionally the food itself. At one point, as a show of good faith, Sam is given a small shelf full of books. The topics are carefully chosen. Anything regarding the supernatural or that could inspire rebellion isn't included. They keep him occupied for awhile, until he dumps the books out and tries to use the shelf to ram the door. He wakes up handcuffed to the bed once again.
Eventually the demons stop leaving him with anything that seemed even remotely dangerous. Sam ends up eating his food off paper plates on the floor without utensils. Still Sam tries to fight them for as long as he can but, he can't keep it up forever.
***
Sam estimates that he's been locked up for two months when the shit hits the fan.
That "morning" when Sam emerged from the shower, fully dressed but still toweling his hair dry, he finds an unfamiliar demon delivering his breakfast. Sam pauses when he sees him. Demons delivering food isn't abnormal in his new life but he prefers when the food just seems to magically appear. Sam stands in the doorway keeping a steady eye on the demon. The unfamiliar demon, now nicknamed Big Ugly #12, places the food down calmly. It doesn't even make eye contact before heading back toward the door. Sam breathes a sigh of relief but it's premature.
As it reaches the door, Big Ugly #12 turns back around, his borrowed face set into a malicious smirk. The creature's voice is harsh and taunting.
"Are you really the human they tell those stories about? Can't be. A pathetic thing like you killed Alistair? I don't believe it. You're just our lord's pet, content to be kept in this pretty little cage. So well trained, tales of your viscous bite must have been exaggerated. Don't get so much as a growl out of you anymore." Anger swells in Sam but before he can reply the demon exits the room with a mocking laugh.
Sam fumes internally as moves across the room.
"Asshole," he mumbles under his breath.
'Well maybe he's right,' a traitorous little voice in the back of Sam's head whispers.
'What?!'
'Maybe he's right,' the voice repeats. 'Maybe you are becoming Lucifer's well trained little pet. You haven't been fighting like you used to. You used to fight tooth and nail against your captors. It never did any good but that doesn't matter. It's the principal. You haven't fought against them in days. You've rolled over for Lucifer like an obedient dog.'
'No,' Sam argues. 'I haven't. I'm just lulling him into a false sense of security.' He isn't convincing anyone, least of all himself.
Internally he worries. He took psychology classes at Stanford. He did a group project his freshman year on Stockholm syndrome. He basically did the entire project himself because Danny Philips kept coming to their work sessions too drunk to see straight. So, he knows the symptoms. He knows that the longer he stays here the more likely he is to give in to Lucifer.
He can't let that happen. Trusting a demon is what set Lucifer free in the first place. He's not going to make that mistake again. He has to push himself to keep fighting. He makes a plan for that evening.
***
Despite Big Ugly #12 surprising him in the morning, Sam usually had a pretty good sense of when someone was going to enter his room. So, when he was pretty sure that someone would be bringing the evening meal soon, he started up the shower but instead of stepping under the spray he slides under the bed. The idea is to misdirect the demon. Sam has no idea if this is going to work but he has to try.
As he lies in wait he can't help hoping that Lucifer is the one to bring him his food today. He'd love to take a shot at the bastard.
He doesn't have to wait long before he hears the lock on the door click. He can't see much but, catches a glimpse of feminine ankles. They pace back and forth a few times, inspecting the room. The second time those ankles drift past him, he catches hold of them and pulls. Bits of taco go flying everywhere as the unfamiliar demon lady hits the floor.
Sam drags himself out and charges at her. Her mouth is still opened wide in shock. The demon waves her hand and, out of panic, sends Sam crashing into one of the room's walls. He hits his head hard making his vision swim.
He can just barely make out a blurry shape fleeing the room. He wants to follow her but he can't get his body to move. The world starts spinning like a bad day at the amusement park. He can't even make it to his feet before he blacks out.
***
Dean pushes open the door to the house where he's keeping Sam. It's not very large but it is remote and secure. More importantly though, it's topside. He may be in charge of the legions of hell but that doesn't means he trusts them. All it would take was one demon who was stupid enough to think he could get away with it. Sure he'd peel the flesh off any little black eyed bastard that dared to touch his brother but that wouldn't undo anything the little psychos did to Sam when he wasn't looking.
Dean hasn't been here in a few days. He'd had to go downstairs to deal with some lord of hell business. Normally that meant Cas could watch Sammy for him but he'd needed Cas by his side this time. So after a lot of threats he'd had to leave Sam in the care of demons for a few days. He was pretty sure they wouldn't try anything but he still hadn't been overjoyed about the idea. He was glad to be back above ground. The sun had just begun to rise so he decided to bring Sammy some breakfast, even if the stubborn little punk wouldn't appreciate it.
"Hey Sammy, I brought you…" Dean says as he enters Sam room. His words trail off as he takes in the sight before him. Sam is sprawled against the wall, unconscious. An egg McMuffin and orange juice join the tacos on the floor as Dean rushes to his brother's side. He kneels next to him, placing the younger man's head in his lap.
"Sammy, come on Sammy," Dean says, tapping his brother's cheek in an attempt to rouse him. He runs a hand over the back of Sam's head and it comes away bloody. He intensifies his efforts to awaken his brother.
"Dean…" Sam speaks in a quiet, confused slur. "Wha… why?" He loses consciousness again.
"No Sammy, stay with me," Dean commands, trying in vain to revive his brother. "Cas! I need help! Cas!" Dean screams turning his attention back to his brother. He doesn't notice when Castiel arrives a few seconds later.
"Dean?" Castiel questions, kneeling beside his lover.
"I found him like this," Dean explains. "I don't know how long he's been lying here. I think he has some kind of head trauma. Can you fix him? Healing isn't exactly my area of expertise."
"I will try," Castiel states nodding. He places his hands above Sam's head. At first nothing happens but then the angel's hands begin to glow a haunting blue color. Dean watches as the wound on his brother's head knits itself together. The blood on Dean's hands is the only remaining evidence of any damage.
Sam groans once then the mask of pain on his face relaxes.
"He is fine," Castiel informs Dean. "Merely sleeping." They move Sam to the bed and exit the room, locking the door as they leave.
Castiel is about to return to his other duties when Dean grabs his arm.
"How close was he to dying?" Dean asks. His face is blank but, his eyes reveal his inner turmoil. Castiel studies Dean's face a moment before answering.
"Had you arrived half an hour later he would have been in a coma. A few hours later and he would have been dead." Castiel tells him. His voice is steady but not unkind.
"Crap," Dean feels like his insides are shaking apart as he thinks about how close he came to losing his brother. If he died Dean wouldn't be able to just bring him back. Sam would be completely out of his reach if his soul headed toward the pearly gates. Even if he landed in Dean's domain, which he really hoped Sam didn't, it could take Dean awhile to find his brother in the chaos of hell. He didn't even want to think about what could happen to his brother in the meantime. He could resurrect Sam if someone made a deal but they'd already overused that option.
"Shit," Dean suddenly punches the wall. The building shakes. As quickly as it came his anger leaves him. He collapses in on himself, slipping down the wall, until he is seated on the floor against it. Castiel kneels close to Dean, his presence reassuring.
"What am I supposed to do Cas?" Dean asks, his head in his hands. "I brought Sam here so he wouldn't get himself killed but, the stubborn ass is bound and determined to get himself killed anyway. I can't let him die but he refuses to understand. It kills me every time I go in that room, Cas. Do you know what it's like to have the kid who you've been protecting since he was in diapers look at you like you're lower than scum? Like he would enjoy wiping you off the face of the planet? It sucks Cas. I sucks so much. I don't know if I can do it anymore."
Cas wraps his arms around Dean and Dean buries him face in the angel's neck. He buries himself away from the pain and guilt that come with being Lucifer. He breathes in the scent of his angel and tries to calm down.
That's when he gets The Idea, the idea that's going to change everything. He slowly unwraps himself from Castiel's arms and heads back toward his brother's room.
"Dean?" Cas asks, his head tilted to the side.
"I can make this better," Dean explains, speaking quickly like an man slightly unhinged. "I can fix it. He can't be mad at me if he can't remember what I did." Cas looks skeptical but follows Dean back into Sam's room anyway. That's one of the things Dean loves about Cas: he'll stand by him even when he thinks Dean is doing something stupid and be there to catch Dean when if blows up in his face.
Dean stands near the end of Sam's bed. When Dean lays his hands on his brother's temples the younger Winchester begins to awaken.
"Wha…?" Sam starts to ask, his mind still jumbled from sleep and his earlier accident.
"Sh, Sammy you're ok ," Dean tries to sooth his brother. He can't have him freaking out before he's finished. "I'm sorry. I can't lose you again."
Sam wonders what Dean is apologizing for. Suddenly he feels a pressure inside his head. It feels like someone is kneading his mind like bread dough. The pressure becomes a pulling sensation and then it becomes painful. His head swims. Dean is repeating over and over again "I'm sorry". The pain and dizziness grows. He's struggling to stay afloat in his own head but the waves of darkness get to be too much. One more wave of pain and the inky blackness overwhelms him.
***
"Mr. Winchester" Sam hears from above him shortly after he wakes. He's lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar place looking up at someone unfamiliar. "Mr. Winchester, you're at St. Mary's hospital. I'm Dr. Babar, I'm your doctor. You've been in an accident but, you're going to be fine," the doctor tells him.
'What accident?' Sam wonders. 'I don't remember an accident. Then again, I don't remember who Mr. Winchester is either.'
AN: I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Next one should be up in two weeks. There will be a time jump ahead 13 years. Until next time : )