Dean was going to kill him, Sam thought as he watched Lucifer pace back and forth, his eyes delighted at the trick he'd pulled. Damn Rowena, he should have known better than to trust her. Lucifer was suddenly much closer to him, staring as though awaiting the answer to a question.
"Uh, what?" A vicious smile spread across the archangel's face.
"Woolgathering, Sam? I would have thought your situation would have…" Lucifer trailed one icy finger up Sam's neck, watching him shiver. "...sharpened your focus somewhat."
"No, I uh… What was the question?" Sam stuttered, fear making his blood run sluggishly in his veins.
"Never mind. I've made the decision for you. I do like to cuddle, after all." Sam's eyes widened, now he thought about it, Lucifer had been saying something about bunks. The archangel was pressed against him, cold breath ghosting across his skin making goosebumps prickle and his breathing became ragged. Oh fuck, what was Lucifer going to do with him now? The last time in the Cage, Lucifer had enjoyed battering him with a variety of physical and mental tortures. And fucking Michael had sat and watched it all with cold indifference. Sam stepped away, unnerved.
"You. The visions. Everything. It was all you," he forced out and Lucifer gave him a smile.
"Impressive, right?" he asked, moving into Sam's personal space again.
"And Rowena?" Sam managed, his voice strained. Lucifer gave a careless gesture.
"Did as she was told. Groupies… " He rolled his eyes expressively. "They're always so eager."
"So you did all of that just to… to what?" Sam stuttered. "Jump my bones?"
"Literally," Lucifer said with a lascivious look. He tugged Sam towards him by his belt. Icy fingers began unbuttoning his jeans and Sam jerked away from the archangel in horror.
"Sam," Lucifer admonished. "No need to be coy."
"Leave me alone," Sam warned him, backing away as far as he could go.
"Or what?" Lucifer asked witheringly. He gestured at the cage, his smile broadening. "You don't get to set the rules in here." He prowled towards Sam, loose-limbed and relaxed but Sam wasn't fooled for a second. "It's been a long time, Sammy. I missed you." Strangely, Sam suspected this was true, if misleading.
"You missed having me to torture, you mean," Sam spat. Lucifer looked almost wounded.
"Now, Sam. The sex wasn't that bad, was it?" Lucifer's expression was hungry and Sam turned his face away. "I admit having Michael and your half-brother for an audience didn't exactly add to the ambiance, but-" Lucifer broke off and gave a shiver of remembered pleasure. He crowded Sam against the bars of the cage and leaned in, tucking his nose into Sam's neck and inhaling his scent. Sam could feel cool huffs of breath against his skin, and then gentle strokes of Lucifer's tongue, the twin forks teasing at his nerve endings. He shuddered in a complex mix of revulsion and arousal. Fuck.
"That's the spirit," Lucifer muttered against the cords of his neck. He pressed closer, nuzzling into Sam's throat and humming to himself.
"No!" Sam yelled and shoved the fallen angel away. "Get your filthy hands off me!" Lucifer's face twisted with anger, before he controlled himself with visible effort.
"I see. Well, perhaps I can convince you another way."
"You're wasting your time. I know how this ends." Sam said bitterly.
"Oh you do now," Lucifer said, sadistically amused.
"You've tried seduction and failed. So you'll taunt me and torture me and I'll still say no. And eventually, sooner than you think, my brother's gonna walk through that door and kick your ass." Sam was boldly defiant and utterly terrified, but he believed in Dean. Lucifer laughed at him.
"Dean? You're betting on Dean?" he chortled, incredulous.
"I always have," Sam asserted, unnerved that Lucifer was continuing this charade.
"Oh, Sam," Lucifer said softly. "You've got me all wrong." He was moving closer again and Sam's heart began to race.
"Ha," Sam said, sounding braver than he felt. "I doubt that."
"No, no. I'm not here to torture ya," Lucifer continued, ignoring him. "I mean I could." He continued to back Sam against the bars of the cage. "I could inflict pain like you can't even imagine. I was easy on you before. You have no idea. I could inflict such delicious, perfect pain." His face was so close to Sam's, his expression vicious. "But that was so five years ago. No, I'm not going to harm one glorious little hair on that glorious little head." Sam's eyes widened.
"Then what do you want?" he stammered. Lucifer shrugged.
"To make you an offer you can't refuse. You see, Sam, you need me. And I'm gonna prove it to you." He reached out one hand to Sam's forehead and there was a blinding flash of light.
Dean was not surprised to find Sam in the library, since his brother was a total book fiend even when there wasn't research to be done and God knew the kid needed the comforts of the familiar after his experience in Hell. But Sam wasn't reading or making notes or even surfing on his computer. Instead he was slouched in a chair, a half glass of bourbon in his hand and only a finger or so left in the bottle. The new bottle that Dean had only cracked open an hour ago.
"Hey, Sam," he said carefully. "What's up?" Sam's head lolled back and Dean's suspicion that Sam was drunk seemed well founded.
"Drinkin'," Sam slurred. His mouth was slack and his eyes unfocused as he looked up at his brother.
"I can see that," Dean observed, amusement and worry warring for dominance in his head. "What's the occasion?" Sam glared at him.
"S'been a dif- diffy- hard week," he managed and threw back the last of the bourbon in his glass.
"OK," Dean said slowly. "I get that. Being stuck in that cage with Lucifer wasn't a bundle of laughs. But you're out and we slammed that son of a bitch back where he belongs."
"S'not the point," Sam said sullenly. "You said wait, an' I ignored you. Let Rowena convince me to go it alone. I shoulda waited." Dean scratched at his stubble, wondering how to handle his brother's mood without making it worse.
"Yeah, well. What do you want me to say? Am I mad that you went off to Hell without me? Sure, I guess. But it's done. No harm, no foul, right?" Dean was actually considerably angrier with Sam than he was letting on, but with his brother in this state there was little point in having an argument about it. Sam was barely capable of stringing a sentence together. Sam stared morosely into his glass for a moment, then drained the last of the bottle into it.
"Do you like me?" he asked suddenly. Dean stared at him, what kind of a question was that? "What do you mean?" he said uncomfortably. "You're my brother." Sam waved an uncoordinated hand at him.
"Yeah, sure. I'm your brother, you love me." He swallowed more bourbon. "But d'you like me? Y'know, d'you like the person I am?" Dean's mouth dropped open. Where was this coming from?
"Sure," he said easily, despite how uneasy this conversation was making him. "I mean, when you're not being a little bitch." But instead of cracking a smile, Sam's face began to crumple in an alarming fashion. "Hey, hey!" Dean said, "I was joking. Don't freak out on me, Sammy!" Sam shook his head slowly from side to side, his hair swinging in his eyes.
"If you're tellin' the truth, I think you're the only one," Sam said sadly. His eyes were watery, Dean realized as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "I mean, the life doesn't allow us to make many friends but still, Bobby liked you. And Charlie, and Ellen and Jo."
"They're all dead," Sam said with a heavy finality.
"Cas likes you," Dean said desperately. Sam frowned.
"Maybe. But it took him a long time. He didn't like me when he first knew me." Dean winced, that was true, if a little unfair.
"You still keep up with Garth, right? He likes you," Dean added. Sam gave a loaded sigh.
"Garth likes everyone. He's like a puppy." Dean suppressed a grin, Sam had a point even if it wasn't helpful to his case right now.
"Look, what do you want me to say?" Dean asked. "It's the life. It can be lonely. But we have each other, and Cas. That's a lot more than most hunters have."
"Lucifer said he didn't like me. That I was prissy." Oh, so now we're getting somewhere, Dean thought. He'd die rather than admit it, but Lucifer might actually have nailed it. But he was confused, who cares whether Lucifer likes you or not?
"Why do you care what that son of a bitch thinks about you? Why would you want him to like you?" As usual, Dean's confusion was translating into irritation.
"Never mind," Sam said, defeated. "Y'don' unnerstand." Dean slammed a hand down on the table. "Dammit, Sammy, I'm doing my best here. You're not making a lot of sense. Go sleep this off and we'll talk about it later." Sam rolled his eyes and dragged himself upright.
"Yeah," he said, exhaling noisily. "Whatever." He weaved towards the door and Dean watched him leave.
Lying on his back staring at the ceiling, Sam drunkenly pondered his conversation with his brother. Was he lonely? He shouldn't be, Cas and Dean were always around. But of course, their "profound bond" always made him feel like the third wheel. Sam's mouth twisted, he wasn't jealous. Not exactly. He just wanted someone to feel close to. Not his brother but a friend. Or more than a friend? When was the last time he'd even come close to… Oh. Yeah. Lucien. Sam didn't really expect to see him again. From what Cas had said that was probably wise. Having thought of him, Sam was thrown back into the memory of him and Lucien chatting together on the Impala, outside a sleazy motel in Tennessee. Sam felt his body twitch in remembrance. There was a buzzing sound from the nightstand. He looked over and pressed the button on his phone. Who the Hell was texting him at midnight?
Do you need company? L
Sam's breath caught in his throat. No. It couldn't be. It was impossible. His phone buzzed again.
I can be there in a matter of moments if you want. L
Who is this? Sam typed as though he had no idea.
You know perfectly well. L
Sam twitched with conflicting desires. Part of him wanted to respond, invite the seductive, mysterious creature to come keep him company for a while. But the more sensible part thought that was a terrible idea. He had no idea what Lucien even was, or what he wanted. Sober, he'd probably have listened to that sensible part of his brain, but intoxication and misery had left him vulnerable and reckless. He swallowed.
OK. Yeah. I'd like to see you. His finger hovered over the send button for a moment, then he took a deep breath and pushed it. He waited with breathless anticipation and was disappointed when no response was forthcoming. Was he being toyed with here? He sighed with frustration.
"Such a sad sound," a voice said from the other side of the room. Sam sat bolt upright to see Lucien lounging against the wall.
"Lucien," Sam breathed. "You came." Lucien gave him a wicked grin and Sam felt his cheeks reddening.
"So, Sam," Lucien said warmly. "You're lying awake, thinking about me. How can I be of service?" Sam gulped, nervous tension tightening his spine.
"I, uh, did you hear me? Uh, thinking about you?" he stammered. Lucien's grin got broader.
"Of course," he said easily and prowled towards the bed, making Sam feel like a cornered animal. The redhead pushed Sam back onto the mattress, and claimed his mouth. His tongue swept inside and Sam groaned and shivered. Lucien's hands seemed to be everywhere, sliding under his shirt and teasing along the waistband of his shorts. His teeth nipped at Sam's neck and he writhed at the sensation that washed over him.
"God! Lucien, I…" Lucien sat back on his heels and slowly stripped his button-down shirt from his body, his gaze steady on Sam, who could only watch, mesmerized. He stood and dropped his tailored slacks into a pile on the floor. Sam started to rise but Lucien pushed him back down and straddled his hips. He tugged Sam's t-shirt over his head and slid his shorts over his legs in quick succession. Then his mouth was on Sam's neck again and Sam clutched at him. He slid slowly down Sam's body, licking and biting as he went until Sam was nothing but need and panting desperation.
"Lucien, please!" he gasped. Lucien looked up from his position over Sam's groin and then he licked a slow line up the inside of Sam's thigh, and Sam cried out. "Lucien, if you don't do something this will all be over here and now!"
"Do something?" Lucien said insouciantly. "Like what, Sam. What do you want me to do?" Sam scrunched his eyes shut in concentration, willing himself to calm down before answering.
"You. I want you." he huffed. Lucien gave a sinful chuckle.
"Not good enough, Sam. I'll give you what you want, but you have to ask for it. Beg for it, even." Sam shivered, breathing raggedly. He swallowed.
"Fuck me," he said hoarsely. "I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my name." Lucien graced him with a delighted grin.
"By all means," he said and flipped Sam over so that he was pressed face first into the bed. Lucien's hands slid up the back of his thighs and teased across his buttocks and Sam's hips twitched. He was rewarded with a light slap.
"Now, now. Patience, Sam." Lucien chided. His fingers resumed their teasing dance and Sam bit into the sheets in breathless need.
"Please, Lucien," he whimpered. Apparently Lucien took pity on him and he felt his weight shift on the bed and then gasped as the redhead began to press insistently into him. He wiggled his hips to try and draw him in further and smiled at the bitten off curse from behind him. Lucien leaned forward and bit his ear.
"Eager, aren't we?" he growled, amused and aroused all at once. Sam nodded shamelessly and Lucien began to move, a slow, steady pace that had Sam panting and quivering.
"Yes," he bit out. "Need this. Need you. Oh God!" Lucien's hand slipped under his pelvis and gripped him firmly. Sam bit his lip and groaned. He wasn't going to be able to withstand this much longer, lust twisting in his abdomen and his body twitching and writhing as Lucien worked him mercilessly. The redhead's pace was becoming ragged and uncoordinated as he approached his climax and then Sam howled out his own release and Lucien bit hard at his shoulder with a growl.
Dean stood by the table, staring unseeingly at the empty bourbon bottle Sam had left behind. The conversation turned over in his mind, making him grimace. Who could understand what was going on in Sam's head sometimes? A flicker in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he looked at the library door to see Cas hovering.
"Hey, Cas," he greeted the angel tiredly. "What's up?"
"I'm just-" Cas said, his voice a little higher than usual. He coughed and tried again. "I'm just looking for something." Dean squinted at him, Cas was edgy and distant these days and although he'd die rather than admit it, he missed the angel's hovering presence in his mind and by his side.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, and Cas twitched as though irritated.
"A document referenced here," the angel said vaguely, waving a book in his hand. Dean nodded and shrugged.
"Don't let me stop you," he said easily. Cas shuffled into the room and Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he'd managed to push the angel away.
"Have you spoken to Sam recently," he asked and Cas started in a way that seemed almost guilty.
"No," the angel rumbled. "Should I have?" Dean closed his eyes and tugged at his hair.
"No. I just had a weird conversation with him, that's all." He opened his eyes and Cas was staring at a shelf of books, mumbling to himself under his breath. "Apparently Lucifer told him he didn't like him, and for some reason that's got Sam all upset. I don't get it."
"Well, he obviously cares what Lucifer thinks," Cas observed sagely, his eyes still firmly on the bookcase. Dean made a rude sound.
"Why? Why the fuck would he care what that son-of-a-bitch thinks?" Cas turned to look at him, his face taking on a strange, pinched expression.
"I don't know," he said eventually. "Why shouldn't he?" Dean stared at the angel in naked astonishment.
"Because he's fucking Lucifer? Who wants to be liked by that asshole?" Cas shifted awkwardly and Dean got up and stalked over to him. "What's gotten into you, Cas?" he demanded. Cas blinked at the hunter suddenly in his face and gazed uncertainly into Dean's eyes. Dean watched him, a curious feeling passing over him. Normally, when he stared at Cas, not stared dammit just looked, the angel's pupils would enlarge, giving him that feeling he was the center of the angel's attention. Not tonight. In fact he got the distinct impression Cas wished he was somewhere else. A worm of discomfort twisted in his chest. If he didn't know better, he'd say the angel was actually looking at him rather coldly. The warm affection he was so used to seeing in Cas' face only obvious to him now it was not there.
"Lucifer doesn't lie," Cas was saying. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't present things in a certain way in order to convince the listener to do what he wants. In this case, agree to be his vessel again." Dean gaped at him.
"Of course he fucking lies, are you kidding me?" Cas looked away. "I know he's your brother, Cas. But come on. Look at the lies he told Sam when the Apocalypse was going down!" Cas' gaze shot back to Dean's, his eyes surprisingly savage.
"They weren't lies! I didn't-" His voice had started to pitch upwards again and Dean wondered what on earth was going on with the angel tonight. "I didn't hear Lucifer actually lie to Sam about anything," Cas said in a more normal tone. "Heaven told plenty of lies, but not Lucifer." Dean stepped back, his fists clenching in agitation.
"I can't believe you're actually defending him," Dean told the angel incredulously.
"I'm not," Cas defended. "I'm just saying, I'm not aware that Lucifer lied to Sam. It's kind of a thing with him. He always said he doesn't lie because he doesn't have to." Dean huffed out a breath of irritation and turned away.
"Whatever," he said, defeated and dispirited by his brother and his angel. "It's not important. Sam didn't fall for his bullshit. That's all that matters." He walked out of the library without looking back, missing the relieved expression that settled on the Cas' face.
Sam stretched out his sore muscles and gave a contented sigh. Lucien had vanished at some point and he was a little sorry about that, but he hadn't really expected him to stay. Pressure in his bladder forced him out of bed and into the bathroom.
After performing some perfunctory ablutions, he ambled out into the hall and down to the kitchen. Dean was drinking coffee and eating a Danish pastry. He waved a paper bag at Sam and then nodded to the coffee machine. Sam grinned.
"You look good, considering," Dean observed. Sam shrugged.
"Yeah, I know. Weird, right?" He said, unable to suppress the lightness of his mood. "I got the best night sleep I've had in forever." Dean pulled a face.
"Glad someone's getting some sleep," he said sourly. Sam looked more closely at his brother. Dean's face was drawn and his eyes had dark circles beneath them.
"More nightmares?" He asked sympathetically. Dean nodded. "Where was Cas?"
"No idea," Dean told him, his bad mood now more understandable. "I haven't seen him since last night."
"OK." Sam pulled his laptop over and logged into his email. "Well, I guess he's still working on ways to defeat Amara." Dean twitched at the mention of her name.
"Yeah, I guess. Are you OK now?" He asked. Sam stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"I'm sorry about last night," Sam said carefully. "I guess I freaked you out." Dean's mouth quirked upwards.
"A bit," he admitted. He scrutinized Sam until his brother began to squirm. "All right. I'll leave you alone." Sam was frowning at his computer. "What's up?"
"I emailed those two Dr. Schatten's that I found," Sam explained. "The surgeon guy emailed back to say he didn't have any interest in the occult and wasn't the one I was looking for. The other guy, the history professor at Maryland wrote back a weird response."
"OK, what was it?" Dean asked impatiently. Sam rotated his laptop so Dean could read the email.
Dear Sam,
Thanks but I've got what I want for now. Tell Dean I will speak to him again soon. Does he know you're trying to sell him out?
T
Dean looked at Sam, angry and horrified. "The fuck?"
"Yeah. I don't know how he knew it was me, there was no way to trace that email address. Charlie taught me how to set up untraceable accounts. So, you've spoken to this guy? And why did he sign the message, T?" Dean's face was pale and he swallowed, sweat beading on his upper lip.
"I had a… dream. I was back in Purgatory, on my own. I met a, I dunno what the Hell it was. Some kind of monster. Called itself Tenebrae." Sam gasped. "What?"
"Don't you see? Schatten is German for shadow. Tenebrae is a Latin word for shadow."
"OK, what does that mean? Are you saying this is related to Amara?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted. "Maybe. But to form a shadow you need light, so I don't know. What did it say?"
"Nothing much really. It wants me for something, but it was a bit squirrelly about exactly what. Apparently it has a beef with Metatron, and it needs help from me."
"And you said fuck off?" Sam asked, watching his brother closely. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"I said I'd think about it. I've got no love for Metatron, the crawling little toad, but I don't trust this Tenebrae or whatever it wants to call itself. Maybe it's a trick. It was in my head after all."
"You think it picked Metatron's name out of your mind, knowing you hate him and wouldn't care if something bad happened to him, to make you more likely to agree?" Sam asked.
"Something like that, yeah."
"And where was Cas during all of this? I know you said you haven't seen him since last night, but isn't he supposed to be hanging out in your brain, keeping you free of nightmares? How come he didn't notice another intruder in your head?" Dean flinched and Sam stared at him.
"This was when Cas was AWOL." Sam nodded to himself. Of course, Tenebrae probably waited for an opportunity when the angel was absent. Sam's laptop made a soft dinging sound.
"I've got a message," Sam said. "It's from Astrid."
"Astrid. Weird hippy Pennsylvania Astrid?" Dean asked, his eyebrows diving over his nose.
"I don't know. I mean, it's not that common a name. Who else could it be? But I don't know how she got my email address."
"Are all the monsters hackers for Anonymous now?" Dean snarked. "What does it say?" Sam looked uncertain for a moment.
"She has a case for us," he said. Dean blinked in surprise.
"A case?"
"Yeah. She said she might have more work for us, remember?" Dean gave a half-hearted shrug. "I guess she meant it. OK, let's hear it," his brother said after a moment's silence.
"Have you ever heard of the Wild Hunt?" Sam asked him and Dean's face took on a stricken expression for a moment before hardening.
"Uh, I seem to remember reading something in Dad's journal." Sam looked startled.
"I didn't know Dad had faced the Hunt," he remarked. Dean shook his head.
"No. I don't think he did. It was a passing reference, nothing more." Sam peered at him.
"And yet you remember it," he said slowly. Dean's face went completely blank. When he didn't add anything more, Sam continued, although he watched his brother's reaction closely. "OK, well, there are lots of versions of the myth all over Europe. Seeing the Wild Hunt was thought to be a bad omen, that there was a war coming or plague, stuff like that. Also, if you came across the Hunt some myths say you would be abducted to the underworld or the fairy kingdom. Or people's spirits could be pulled away during their sleep to join the Hunt." Dean shoved his chair back suddenly, half standing, and Sam stared at him. "Are you OK?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, you were saying?" Dean lowered himself back into his seat and Sam looked back at his email.
"Well, Astrid claims that the Hunt is active again. In a tiny town called Brooks, Oregon."
"OK. Active how?" Dean said, but he sounded distracted.
"Four men are missing. Drinking buddies, all vanished one night after closing time. A witness claims she saw the Hunt take them away," Sam recited from Astrid's email. Dean perked up.
"A sober witness?"
"She's a nun."
Dean grinned at that. "A sexy nun?" he asked hopefully. Sam made a pretence of checking.
"Sure. If you go for the more mature lady." Dean didn't look discouraged. "She's ninety, Dean." His brother's shoulders slumped.
"Of course she is. OK, I see why this is our thing but why does Astrid want us to check it out?"
"Because she claims the leader of the Wild Hunt, Nuada, has a sword called Bhás an Dorchadas. That means 'the dark death' or put it another way-"
"Death of the Darkness." Dean finished for him.
"Maybe." Sam spread his hands. "You wanna check it out?"
"Sure. Lemme call Cas, see what he thinks." Dean said, pulling out his phone. He punched up Cas' number and let the phone ring out. Cas' confused voicemail message echoed in the kitchen.
"Hey, Cas. We've got a lead on some kind of magic sword, something to do with the Wild Hunt. Gimme a call."
"What about the other way?" Sam said cautiously and Dean scowled. But he closed his eyes for a moment and reached out to the angel. There was no response.
"I guess he's out of range," Dean said jokingly although it sounded strained. "Fine. Let's head out to Oregon. We've got nothing else to follow up right now."