Chapter 3: Bad Company

Warnings: Mild language

Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: Season 7, episode 16

Their case in Russell Springs had turned out to be a bust, as these things sometimes did. Generally Dean got to say 'I told you so' when that happened, and it seemed to make him happy enough.

They had no new leads to follow. At the moment, all they could do was research the leviathans and keep an eye on Lucifer.

However, Sam had not seen the fallen angel in several days. He wavered back and forth between relief and anxiousness at Lucifer's absence. But eventually Dean reined in his interrogations of his brother, and they were able to research in relative peace.

Cas was off doing his own sort of recon, so not 'distracting' Dean as often as usual.

Despite this, they made no progress. Leviathans were very hard to kill, and Purgatory was very hard to open.

Sam had the most wicked case of cabin fever he'd ever experienced. Dean didn't want him to go anywhere alone, in case the devil pounced on Sam's mind somehow. It meant that yet again, Sam had to sneak out at night.

He didn't trust the Impala's engine to not wake Dean up, so he walked. He walked back down the highway he assumed they'd come into town on. After the better part of an hour passed and he started feeling less claustrophobic in his own skin, Sam turned slightly off of the road and into the sparse patch of woods to his right.

"Lucifer," he called hesitantly.

There was no sound in his appearance, but it did get colder.

"Hello Sam," Lucifer said. "Miss me already?"

"Don't flatter yourself. It's just a little too quiet lately. What are you doing?"

The devil sighed. "Gathering my strength," he replied with what seemed to be a hint of embarrassment. Instead of waiting for Sam to reply, however, he reached a hand out and rested it on Sam's shoulder.

Sam had forgotten that Lucifer was cold. Specifically, he was warm yet cold, like when you go for a jog in the winter and your skin is freezing but you aren't chilled. The younger Winchester started to remember this sensation from when Lucifer had been wearing his skin.

Sam shuddered, and blamed it on the temperature.

Then he realized that his hallucination had never touched him before. He pulled away like he had been stabbed.

"How can you do that?" He demanded.

"Do what? Touch you?" Lucifer enquired, dropping his arm. "As I said, I'm gathering my strength. More accurately, I'm gathering my being. Soon I will be totally out of Hell."

"But you still won't have a body. You can't do anything," Sam insisted, trying not to sound desperately worried.

Lucifer indicated the form he had currently chosen with a broad wave of his hands. "I'll drag Nick up when I'm ready to," he assured the hunter.

"Nick would never say yes to you. Not again."

Again, that condescending amusement on the devil's face. He even laughed. "Sam, he has been pampered in Hell."

"Pampered?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Relatively speaking anyway. And he knows it. They've taken it easy on him, as I asked. Out of gratitude, you see. He was a good vessel, flawed though he obviously was. However, if he refuses me?" Lucifer shrugged. It was an innocent gesture which meant an eternity of torture for Nick one way or the other.

"Oh yeah, you're a decent guy. I can feel myself trusting you more already." The sarcasm in Sam's voice was as thick as he could make it.

"I didn't ask you to believe that I'm suddenly endeared to humans." He sighed. "I'm seeing that I need to be more specific with you." The devil continued, pacing in a circle around Sam, his hands in his back pockets. "I'm interested in being here, I'm grateful to you for the piggyback. I don't think you're stupid enough to believe more than that."

"Right. And hypothetically, let's say I'm an idiot and believe that you, the devil, aren't trying to restart the apocalypse or torture me. What exactly do you want?" He stared at the ground Lucifer had previously been standing on, rather than watch him circle—he preferred not to feel like cornered prey. Because as much as Sam didn't want to give Satan the satisfaction, he was terrified.

"I'm not not up for torturing you, Sammy. You know that. But I can set aside my fun if I need to. I'm just so thrilled that we're chatting again! I was feeling so rejected."

"So you just want to talk to me," Sam said disbelievingly.

"And you want to talk to me," Lucifer replied with a grin. "I toyed with your mundane little team. You, your repressed older brother, and his pet angel. We fought, and it was fun. I just want some quality time with you. Like a sleepover."

Sam considered this. Damn him, he honestly considered what the devil was telling him. "And what would you do if I said no?"

"What would I do? What would you do, Sammy? You can say no, but you can't do anything. I'm willing to cooperate with you, so you might as well, ah, say yes to this." He countered with a smirk..

Sam sighed, shoulders slumping, and considered his options.

…

There was a small nest of vampires holing up in a cottage town along Lake Superior, in Minnesota. They were trying to work cases along Dick Roman's campaign trail, and were trying to wrap this case up quickly to move on to North Dakota.

Unfortunately, as it usually did, haste had made them sloppy.

Sam was currently pinned down by an enormous bald vampire, who had a hand or each of his wrists and long, shark-like teeth bared. Sam was trying to push the monster back with a foot braced on the larger man's gut.

He couldn't see Dean, and wasn't sure what had happened to him, but he could hear him clearly enough. The older Winchester shouted with incoherent rage as he apparently had something metal—his gun, likely—wrenched from his hands and thrown across the room.

"Dean!" Sam yelled uselessly. The vampire wasn't tiring, but he certainly was.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stood casually to the side.

"How have you two managed to stay alive this long?" The angel asked with seemingly honest curiosity.

Sam really wasn't in the mood to reply. He heard his brother drop to the ground with a breathless grunt. His own vampire was laughing now as his face creeped forward.

"Sam, if you'd let me borrow a bit of power, I might be willing to lend you a hand. We're BFFs, after all." He said, drawing closer slowly.

"I'm not giving you another inch, you bastard!" Sam yelled, turning his gaze to see Nick's face.

"Oh no? I guess you're giving every inch you have to your new friend here," Lucifer said, his eyes flicking to indicate the vampire. "It's either him or me, Sam. But with me, maybe you'll see the daylight tomorrow."

"I don't care! I don't want a damn thing from you!" He spat. His anger choked and withered in his throat, turning to frustration and he heard Dean give out a strangled cry. Sam had an unusually broad knowledge of sounds, and it seemed that his brother was being beaten in the ribs by a crow bar.

The devil looked toward the other fight, wincing and sucking his teeth like he was watching a hockey brawl, not a fight to the death. When his gaze turned back to Sam, it was patient. Expectant. Unmoving.

"Fine. Fine, damnit!"

"S-Sam!" Dean coughed, apparently realizing what was happening.

"Yes," he gritted through his teeth.

A blinding white flash filled the room, its accompanying shriek drowning out everything else. The light enveloped everyone in the room, and while it left the Winchesters cold but unscathed, it seared away the very bones of the vampires, as if they stood only an inch from the sun. Sam was sure they opened their mouths to scream, but no sound could be heard over that horrible whine.

And then, Sam Winchester lost consciousness.

Bwahaha, and the plot moves along. I just can't stop writing today.