November 21st, 2014.
It was daybreak by the time Sam, chained to Lucifer, decided to click his fingers and go to meet Dean Winchester. Sam had pleaded with Lucifer not to go and see his brother, screamed inside his own body, but it was like trying to make yourself heard over deafening music. Painful, tiring, and impossible to achieve.
If ever he survived and was asked, Sam would be unable to describe what being possessed by Lucifer was like. Every muscle, bone, thought, was intruded on, stolen, by an invader that was beyond powerful. Sam had no control over his physical body, and no privacy over his mental processes, either. His deepest fears, regrets, loves – none of it was a secret to Lucifer.
Sam strolled the garden confidently, looking at the occasional roses spraying colour into the otherwise dull and tired looking garden. The sudden burst of crimson amongst the dirty plants reminded Sam of the earth...being stained with blood. Blood that was all over his hands.
Sam heard a snap of a twig a few metres away and his head snapped up expectantly. As he turned around, Sam was faced with his brother. Dean's face fell with crushing disappointment and heartbreak at the sight of Sam, cleaned up in a white suit and wearing a smirk that would put anyone on edge. Dean knew in an instant that this was no longer his brother, and never would be again. He readied himself to do the one thing that he had wished to God he'd never have to, and pulled out the Colt from his jacket.
"Well," said Lucifer, thoroughly enjoying the situation. "Showtime."
"There's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly,
and he thinks if he could just manoeuvre one into place. Well then.
Game over."