Sam is many things. He's a hunter, and in a way this makes him a soldier. He is a younger brother, a son, a lover and a murderer. The Boy King, the boy with demon blood, Azazel's prodigy. Lucifer knows all of this, has known it all from the beginning.

What he never expected to discover was that Sam is, above all else, a canvas. The brightness of him is so startlingly fresh and pure. In and of himself he is a supernova among brown dwarfs. He is all Lucifer sees, all he cares for. The true beauty of Sam is that despite the taint of demons, he is clean. Heaven views him as an abomination, but he is perfect in a way they refuse to comprehend.

It's this perfection that tears Lucifer in a way. His ultimate goal is to take Sam as a vessel, this hasn't changed. Part of him, though, wonders if he should have the honor of painting the canvas laid out before him. His Grace will add color to the formlessness of Sam's spirit, should he be accepted. When they join, they will both be forever changed. Lucifer thinks about this constantly.

Sam isn't so hostile to him in the dreams anymore. To a human, something so infinitely young, the immediacy of death all around is a rather large priority. To an angel, it's all a slow game. One Lucifer knows he will win, so he knows he can afford to make certain concessions in order to calm Sam down. Halting the demons is the biggest step yet. His followers question the wisdom of his decision, so he kills them and the questions stop.

••

Something has changed when he visits Sam this time. There's a sadness and a hope running along the length of his soul. "Sam?"

The hunter stands with his back to Lucifer, form hunched almost as if he were in pain. He turns at the archangel's voice and hesitates speaking. Whatever's happened has shaken Sam deeply and Lucifer finds his temper rising at the thought that something has made Sam so uncertain, so fragile looking.

"You said you love me." The words tremble from Sam's lips.

Lucifer nods and takes a cautious step forward. "I do. I promised to be honest with you."

Sam closes his eyes and shakes his head as if he could expel the memory of Lucifer's admission. "How do you even know what love is?"

The angel advances again, wings drawn tight to his back, his hands cold as he cradles Sam's face. For once, there is no flinching or recoiling from his touch. "I was created to love you, Sam. And you were made to love me."

Red floods the once blank space of the human before him, the color of rage, passion and love. It's a slow process and there's yet more to go, but Lucifer can't help his grin when he sees Sam begin to truly accept him.

"You'll always tell me the truth?" Sam's hands raise to his forearms, fingers curling, it's the first time his touches have been reciprocated.

Lucifer smiles kindly and brushes his thumbs along the apples of Sam's cheeks. "Always."

••

It progresses, the touches and the conversations. Sam begins to trust him, though he still won't tell Lucifer what sparked the change in their correspondence. Perhaps it doesn't matter, Lucifer will know in time anyway. He'll see all of Sam's life through the man's own eyes when the time comes.

Lucifer watches Sam's profile as they sit side by side in a dream, the TV flashing in front of them. Sam frowns at the program. "You know, I never really got the whole river of blood coming from an elevator thing in this scene."

"Rivers of blood are biblical." Lucifer tilts his head and he watches the small upturn of Sam's lips. "Or feminine."

Sam coughs and turns to him, eyes comically wide. An incredulous laugh bubbles up from his throat and Lucifer watches gold bloom among the crimson, sparks and petals swimming and dancing with one another.

"You're beautiful when you laugh, Sam." Lucifer isn't even sure Sam hears him until the laughing stops.

Beneath his skin the gold glows brighter and the red darkens. Sam's mouth opens and Lucifer knows he's about to say something important, but his connection is severed. Someone has woken Sam up. Lucifer screams and grabs the demon nearest to him by the arm and hair, then rips its head off.

••

Three days. That's how long it is before Lucifer can actually find Sam again. The demons tiptoe around him, whispering their inquiries and never making eye contact. Their fear barely soothes him. There had been gold and red and he knows he saw something darker just about to splash onto Sam's consciousness. He was so close.

When he feels Sam again it's different, not just the subtle pulses of his true vessel among the white noise of the planet. This time Sam is reaching out to him, his mind and soul begging to be found. Lucifer might even be able to find where his vessel is, if he concentrates hard enough.

The thread of Sam's will bursts open and suddenly Lucifer can locate him. Something's wrong.

••••

Sam shouts as the shifter kicks him in the stomach while he's down, steel toed boots breaking one of his ribs. The pain is sharp and hot and he can see the creature rearing back for another go. He wraps his arms around his head and braces… but nothing comes.

His entire midsection his throbbing from the kick and his shoulder stings from a stab wound that's bleeding way more than can be healthy. There isn't even a gurgle or a scream, the next thing he hears is the dull thud of the shifter's dead body falling to the floor. The eyes aren't burnt out like with smiting and there are no wounds, but he knows it's dead.

Lucifer crouches next to him and lays a loving hand across his jaw, skin cool and comforting. "It's a good thing you called, Sam."

The pain is gone instantly, his bone repaired and shoulder healed. "It's a good thing you showed."

The smile he's given is nothing short of adoring, Lucifer's eyes soft as they regard him. "I would never ignore your call."

••

Sam doesn't tell Dean what's happened, or Bobby. Instead, he spends two days trying to convince himself that he's in a fever dream. Maybe he's still detoxing from demon blood and all of this is just what feels like months of an apocalypse. Then again, the demon blood was never this kind to him.

Lucifer isn't any different in person than he was in dreams and Sam isn't sure why, but it shocks him. He'd expected it all to be a ruse, maybe, something designed to trick him. But Lucifer is calm with him, patient and even kind. He doesn't know how to feel about it.

••••

On the fourth night, Sam looks at him and Lucifer smiles back. Gold, red, blue and even silver. All the colors of Sam's growing acceptance, like doors opening as shortcuts in a maze. There's a nervousness in Sam's eyes that lets Lucifer know they should plan to head up to Detroit soon.

Sam stands in front of him, fingers ghosting over his skin like embers floating in the air. "You said you love me." Lucifer nods and Sam almost smiles. "Then love me."

He kisses Sam like he's trying to climb inside, like he can pour his Grace through this kiss and by the end they'll be one. Sam lifts him into the air only to drop him down to the mattress, their legs tangling together. Large hands slide up under his shirt, the freezing fire of his true form desperate to break free of borrowed skin.

Lucifer moans when Sam bears down onto him, rutting against him. The kiss breaks, Sam panting and groaning. "Naked. Now."

With little effort Lucifer complies, both of their bodies bare for each other. Sam smiles and pulls back, sitting on his heels. "Fuck, we need—"

"This?" Lucifer chuckles and hands Sam the bottle of lubricant from his own bag. "I was one of Heaven's generals, Sam, I know how to prepare for a battle."

Sam smiles and presses a slick finger to Lucifer's entrance. "Is this a battle?"

"Only the best kind." His eyes flutter shut when Sam slips the tip of his finger in, slowly working him open.

Lucifer can appreciate the irony of Sam being inside him before he's inside Sam, it's almost poetic that this may be the last step. His body years for Sam, stretching around his fingers as they pump and thrust slowly. The intimacy and care in this makes his wings shiver. Lucifer is nigh indestructible, but Sam is gentle regardless.

They share another kiss when Sam is three fingers in, soul burning and licking at Lucifer's Grace wherever they touch. He feels empty when Sam's fingers withdraw, something disturbingly human. Then he's being filled again and Sam's pleasure is exploding like the flaring of wings. His eyes glow when they meet Lucifer's, his gentle moans melodic as hymns.

Lucifer wraps his arms around Sam's shoulders, his legs constricting tighter around the hunter's hips in the same breath. All sound and sight is drowned out by Sam's presence, his pleasure consuming all of Lucifer's attention. The rhythm of their hips rolling together reminds him of a chase, of flying across an aerial battlefield. The pace is harsh, skin smacking like strikes of lightning through clouds. Sweat drips from Sam's body and slides across his, rain under the plates of his armor.

The colors of Sam's spirit melt together back to white, all frequencies of light colliding until they're unintelligible. Lucifer shakes under the strength of it, the heat and fervor. He barely hears Sam panting into his ear. "Fuck, I love you."

He nods back and kisses Sam again, needing to taste the words that were just uttered. This time Sam kisses like he wants to swallow Lucifer whole, like he can open wide enough to suck the Grace from this false vessel. Trembling breaks out in Sam's arms, hips moving erratically. He's close.

They pull apart again, Sam's eyes finding Lucifer's with determination. "Lucifer, yes."

A feral grin splits Sam's mouth open as Lucifer screams and claws his way out of his defective skin. He finds his way into Sam's body between the pulses of their shared orgasm.