A/N: Thank you to everyone who followed and favorited! And especially thank you to those who took the time to leave a review; it means a lot to me! :) To Guest who was apparently writing for two people, those are great guesses, and one of you is right! Let's see which...

Chapter 3

Sam had lost track of how much time he'd spent pacing; there was no way to count the hours or days in this windowless room. He'd discovered his phone had been taken while he was unconscious—made sense, but he'd been hoping for some measure of stupid oversight from the demons. Even if he wouldn't have been able to get a signal, it would've been nice to know what time it was…how long it'd been since Lucifer had snatched him up from Carthage. All he really had to go on was his level of fatigue, which was increasing exponentially now that the adrenaline and terror from facing Lucifer was abating. He stayed away from the bed though, not wanting to succumb to sleep and be caught off guard if—when—the Devil returned. But resisting the tug of exhaustion was getting harder.

Sam hoped Dean was okay, that he was on his way back to Bobby's. Those two would need each other now. Maybe they'd pack up and head out to start that base at Camp Chitaqua Dean had seen in the future. The thought of both their stubborn, curmudgeonly personalities trying to marshal and run a resistance movement almost made Sam chuckle. He knew Dean had been appalled to find out he was some kind of rebellion general, a 'real dick' his brother had said of himself. Sam had actually been curious about their future counterparts, but the sparse details Dean had shared quickly snuffed out his inquiries. Sam had given into Lucifer. Cas had become human. Bobby…Bobby hadn't been there at all.

But things had changed. Dean and Sam had reunited, and armed with that glimpse of foresight, Sam was more determined than ever not to surrender. Maybe the apocalyptic future was inevitable, but the small details could be different. They already were. So, yeah, Dean and Bobby would be fine.

Except…Dean wasn't the type to let go. And while Sam wanted to find comfort and hope for himself in his older brother's indomitable resolve, it also scared him. After all, the last time Dean had done something drastic to save Sam, he'd sold his soul. That probably wasn't an option this time around, since Hell's big boss man was the one who wanted Sam in the first place, but there were other recourses Dean might take…

Sam wrenched his mind away from that line of thought. No, Dean would never. He'd find some other way to ice the Devil, and in the meantime, all Sam had to do was not say yes. Simple.

So why did it not feel that easy?

He rubbed his face. A growing headache pulsed behind his eyes, and his legs were beginning to feel like jello. Maybe he could just sit down…

He sank onto the plush bed, but ended up leaning all the way back. The mattress gave under his weight to mold around his aching body, and a moan of relief mumbled in his throat. His eyelids slid shut, and the next thing Sam knew, he'd fallen into an abyss of dreamless sleep.

He woke with a start later, not sure what had set his nerves on edge. It was a familiar, prickling feeling up the back of his neck, yet one he couldn't place. So he didn't move right away, but instead stayed nestled in the bed, curled on his side and feeling more comfortable than he cared to admit. After a prolonged moment, however, he realized that the spot on the mattress at his back was slightly dipped. Jerking upright, Sam whipped his head over his shoulder.

Lucifer sat on the other side, a creepy smile on his face. "Sleep well?"

Sam scrambled off the bed. "You get your jollies watching me sleep?" he snapped, terror making him brash. Now he remembered where he'd felt that niggle before—when Lucifer had invaded his dream pretending to be Jess. Except this time it wasn't a dream; Lucifer was really here.

Lucifer shrugged one shoulder. "You seemed at peace. I know that's a rarity for you."

Sam gritted his teeth. Nightmares were part of the hunter's job description, though Sam had more than his fair share. Not as bad as Dean though, since he'd gotten back from Hell, and that knowledge kept Sam from complaining. Besides, half of his nightmares were the result of his own poor choices.

His gaze sharpened on Lucifer, and his brow furrowed. He'd gotten a rather up-close look at the archangel—more than he'd wanted—and he could see red and white patches of skin on his face. The cracked and peeling flesh looked like he'd been struck with leprosy or some kind of decomposing bacteria.

Lucifer seemed to notice what Sam was staring at, and reached up to lightly touch his neck. "Erm, unpleasant, isn't it?"

Sam swallowed hard. "What's wrong with you?"

"As I told you before, Nick was never meant to be a permanent vessel. The power of an archangel is not easy to contain."

Sam's face must have showed a measure of distress, because Lucifer continued gently, "You have nothing to worry about, Sam. You are strong and able to contain me without…" He burst his hands apart in silent pantomime of an explosion. "You are my true vessel, after all."

"So…you're eventually going to…burn out?"

"Burn out this vessel, yes." His gaze flickered astutely. "Now, Sam, I know what you're thinking. But no, losing my vessel won't hurt me. It may set my plans back a bit…" Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly. "So it really would make things easier the sooner you say yes."

Sam stiffened and lifted his chin. "What do you think?"

"Don't you want to release your burdens?" Lucifer angled a knowing look at him. "You carry so much for one so young."

Sam clenched his fists. "Whose fault is that? Azazel feeding me demon blood, killing my mom, my family becoming hunters, all that was because of you!"

"Everything was to prepare you for this moment. Don't you see, Sam? You're special. Everything you've been through, you survived, and it's made you stronger."

Sam looked away. He had believed that, before. Believed he could use his curse for the greater good, to make all the pain and suffering it caused his family worth it. And what good had it done in the end? He'd set Lucifer free and started the Apocalypse. 'Stronger,' right. Sam was pathetic, ever the disappointment and screwup.

"I'm not evil," he whispered to the floor, barely aware he spoke aloud. Tainted, sure, tarnished by the demon blood he hadn't chosen as a baby, and then foolishly embraced as an adult. But he wanted to be good.

Lucifer heaved a sigh and glanced almost wistfully at the books on the shelf. "You think I'm evil."

Sam blinked. "Yeah. You're the Devil."

"A designation given to me by Heaven when I wouldn't conform. Surely you know how wrong—and hurtful—labels can be." Lucifer rose to his feet. "How many times have angels called you an abomination? The boy with demon blood. A freak. But that's not all you are, Sam."

A lump had begun forming in his throat, swelling tighter with each barbed name. No, he was more than that, more than the curse thrust upon him as an infant, more than his past mistakes and weaknesses.

"You see, Sam," Lucifer cajoled, stalking around the foot of the bed. "We're both just misunderstood."

"You want to destroy the world. Don't try to sell me on how that's anything but evil." His shoulders were bunched with tension to the point they cramped. He wasn't quite afraid of Lucifer hurting him; besides, if the archangel could just torture him into saying yes, surely he would've done it by now. But a coerced permission couldn't really be one, right? No, Sam was more afraid of his own inability to resist the Devil. And he hadn't even been in Lucifer's clutches that long.

"How is tearing down a corrupt and depraved system a bad thing?" Lucifer countered. "I didn't create the way things are, Sam, just as you didn't create the circumstances you find yourself in now. But here we are, two peas ready-made to fit in a pod. So alike it's almost poetic."

"I am nothing like you," Sam spat.

"No?" Lucifer's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I think we're more alike than you realize. Both our fathers had plans for our lives, wanted us to follow them to the letter. But you and I wanted more. The world was at our fingertips, and all we wanted was to make the most of it." Lucifer paused. "And then family came and took it all away."

Images of Stanford flashed through Sam's mind: answering a question in a lecture hall that impressed the professor, pulling all-nighters in the library, sitting in a coffee shop with Jess and imagining how he would finally propose, how romantic he wanted to make it. And then the memories were washed away in a wave of molten fire, Jess's stunned face staring down at Sam from a ceiling, her last breath a stutter that splashed her lips with crimson. Dean pulling him away…

No! Jess's death was not Dean's fault. He hadn't brought the demon with him…right? It was just a horrible, tragic coincidence. And yet, Sam had to wonder…if Dean hadn't shown up that weekend, would Jess still be alive? Would she and Sam be married with kids? If Sam had never gotten back into hunting, would he never have discovered his powers and demon blood?

He shook his head fervently to dispel such ludicrous thoughts, which sent a spike of pain across his entire head. Wincing, he reached up to hold his temple.

Lucifer made a thoughtful noise in his throat. "Hm, you should eat something to help with that headache." He turned and walked over to the table spread of untouched fruit and veggies. "Would you like something different? I thought you appreciated healthy food, but I understand you're under a lot of stress, so perhaps you would prefer, what is it, 'comfort food'?"

Sam snorted. "I'm not touching anything from you."

Lucifer tipped his head back with a small laugh. "I have no reason to poison you, Sam. You're an honored guest here, remember?"

"Guest? Guests can leave whenever they want."

"Mmm…fair point. Still, you should eat. You need to keep up your strength."

Sam's stomach rumbled in blatant revolt to his intended hunger strike, and he wrapped his arms around his abdomen. He'd threatened to kill himself before allowing Lucifer to possess him, yet the Devil had said he would just bring him back to life. But if Sam made himself weak and sick, would that make him less appealing as a vessel? Somehow he doubted that, but he had so few ways of resisting, he was grasping at any pathetic attempt he could in order to fight back.

Lucifer watched him for several long moments, like a cat that knew it could snap a baby bird's head off with the speed of a cobra, but chose not to. "Perhaps," he said slowly, calculating, "your appetite is leaning toward something a little…tangier."

Sam's brows knit together in confusion.

Lucifer took a deep breath, chest expanding with the inhalation. "Hm, it's been a while since you've tasted demon blood, hasn't it?"

Ice washed through Sam's veins. Oh, hell no! He backed up into the wall, shoulder bumping the gilded painting and knocking it off-kilter.

Lucifer quirked a bemused look at him. "Why do you resist it? Didn't you enjoy how it made you feel strong, powerful? You would've developed some impressive skills by the time you were juiced up enough to kill Lilith. Don't you miss that?"

Sam shook his head fervently enough to give himself whiplash. "You want to try to convince me you're not evil one minute, and then the next you're offering that?"

Lucifer sighed. "Once again, you're letting others' preconceived ideas about good and evil dictate your moral compass. How can gaining the power to destroy demons be wrong?"

Sam fumbled for a response. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that if he accepted demon blood now, maybe he'd have a fighting chance against Lucifer. Not enough to take out the Devil, but surely enough to get away? He could escape, get back to Dean before his brother did something stupid…but then what would Dean say when Sam showed up intoxicated with demon blood and psychic powers? Would he finally admit they were useful if they helped Sam escape Lucifer's grasp? No, more likely Dean would rip him a new one for falling off the wagon.

"It's…not that way." Sam cringed at how feeble his response sounded. With his back to the wall, he felt trapped. What if Lucifer forced him? One drop, and Sam knew he'd be lost to that power again.

"Hm, because others don't approve? Like your brother?"

His jaw tightened. Was Lucifer reading his mind, or was it just that damn obvious? Whispers of how Sam used to feel about using his powers filtered through his mind. He had at one time believed them to be a good thing; he'd been able to exorcise demons without killing the host, had been able to kill demons. Dean didn't see it that way though. That fight in Ruby's motel room still haunted Sam, the way Dean had called him a monster, and then how he threw Dad's words back in his face.

"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!"

He'd repented, dammit! Sam had admitted his mistake and was determined to be clean, but then in Colorado when they'd confronted War, Dean thought Sam, after everything, was still jonesing for demon blood. That he hadn't learned his lesson, despite all the reassurances Sam had tried to give. That case had been the breaking point for Sam, and he'd walked away. Yeah, because he said he hadn't trusted himself going after demons…and Dean had agreed with him, said he spent too much time worrying about Sam as it was. The way his brother didn't trust him…it almost made Sam want to say, 'screw it all,' and take that hit.

But he wouldn't. Sam would do his older brother proud, for once.

"Just stop it! You're not trying to convince me that something is right or wrong, or that it's all a gray area. You're just trying to manipulate me so you can get what you want."

Lucifer pursed his lips and cocked his head a fraction. "You're right, I have my own agenda. But that doesn't mean what I say isn't true or valid. I'm not lying to you, Sam. Not like your friends have lied to you."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about who really let you out of the panic room that night."

Sam's brow furrowed, and he began shifting his weight nervously. Something about the gleam in Satan's eye sent a chill down his spine. "What do you mean? One of your demons…"

"Oh, no, Sam. That wasn't my doing. It was Heaven. Angels." Lucifer let a pregnant pause hang in the air. "Castiel, in fact."

Sam felt as though he'd been sucker punched in the gut. "What? No…"

"It's true, I'm afraid." Lucifer stalked back toward him again. "I saw it in 'Cas's' memory. He was the one who unlocked the panic room."

The floor seemed to drop out from under him. Cas had let him free? Knowing what Sam intended to do, how he planned to do it…after Cas had told Sam he was glad the Winchester had 'ceased his extracurricular activities' with demon blood. Angels had told Dean they'd wanted Sam to stop, and in the end they'd condoned it? No, that couldn't be right.

"You're lying."

"I told you, Sam, I will never lie to you." Lucifer smiled sympathetically. "You see? If I'm evil, then so is Heaven. I wager they might even be worse. At least I have never hidden behind treachery and pretense."

Sam wanted to argue, but then he recalled Samhain, and how angels had been willing to sacrifice an entire town to protect a Seal. That had not been righteous or moral. Except…Heaven hadn't really wanted the Seals saved. After everything, after all of the angels' speeches about necessary casualties in order to save Seals, in order to prevent Lucifer from rising altogether…they'd helped engineer it, ensured that it would be done. That Sam would be the one to do it. He'd thought he was doing something good, that killing Lilith would stop the Apocalypse. He'd been tricked by Ruby, yeah. He'd trusted her and she screwed him over, but she was a demon. What added insult to injury was that Heaven, the good guys, had done the same.

Lucifer steepled his palms. "Well, I can see you need some time to think. Finding out all those preconceived notions of what it means to be good that you've been trying so desperately hard to follow are a fallacy…" He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished, but then he didn't need to voice the rest. Sam's mind was already whirling. He heard the door snick shut as Lucifer left, leaving Sam alone once again.

He sank despondently onto the edge of the bed, the sting of betrayal and hopelessness hooking claws into his heart. He wanted to believe Lucifer was lying, that the Devil was just trying to manipulate him, yet Sam knew with a sinking feeling that it was true. No demon could get past the warding in Bobby's house. Ruby had said so. But an angel… And Cas of all of them.

All the arguments and disagreements Sam had experienced with the angel came flooding back, and with them bitter resentment. How dare Castiel be angry with Sam for decisions he helped ordain? He was in on it all along!

No, Cas had rebelled against Heaven to help Dean stop Sam. He'd saved them from Zachariah, warded them against all angels. So, even if he had been in on it, he was working with them now. Yet what did that even matter? It was too little, too late.

Sam lay back on the bed, curling up on his side, and buried his face in the pillows.

A/N: Next week we'll finally get to see what Dean is doing throughout all this!