The Prophet Who Knew Too Much

Soundtrack Inspiration: The End of the World – 2. Grace of the St. Paul by Joe Hisashi

Chuck's house was practically post-apocalyptic. And Sam felt every bit as evil as his Satanic reputation for phrasing it that way inside his head. The furniture had been thrown around the room haphazardly. Lucifer knew that he was looking for the burnt impression of wings, the sign that an angel inside a vessel had perished, but there wasn't such a clean image. It looked as if Castiel had been blown apart, his wings not even having enough form to make any semblance of the seraph. The physical remnants of Jimmy Novak were equally as gruesome.

A sharp blow connected with the back of his head, sending him stumbling forward. Lucifer twisted around, nearly attacking the scum that dared touch him, but he was too shocked that he hadn't even noticed someone's presence. Standing there, ashen faced and gripping a plunger as if his life depended on it was Chuck. Sam felt his heart clench in recognition and a flood of indistinguishable human emotion. "Geez, Ow!" he said, looking at Chuck with disbelief. Whether or not Chuck was a friend, (and whether or not Sam was the Dark Lord of All Evil) being smacked on the head with a plunger was not something he particularly enjoyed.

"Chuck," Dean said, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Where's Cas?"

But there was something wrong with Chuck. The prophet had not taken his eyes off Sam. His hands were trembling violently, and he looked even more terrified than he had before he'd hit Sam. Suddenly Sam realized…Chuck knew.

"Chuck?" Dean called the frozen man's name again, walking in front of Sam to where the prophet stood. "Come on man, snap out of it! What's wrong?"

Sam was panicking. Chuck would tell Dean…he'd know that Sam wasn't Sam anymore. He had to stop this.

Chuck looked like he would pass out at any moment. His eyes flickered from Sam to Dean, then back again, his mouth opening.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Sam was wholly Lucifer, The Great Adversary, Evil Incarnate. The archangel held the prophet's eyes in his colder-than-death glare, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head that clearly said keep your fucking mouth shut.

Chuck's eyes grew wide with horror, and the dirtied man stumbled backwards, away from the kitchen, nearing falling over a chair lying on its side before crumpling onto the couch.

"Whoa, whoa, hey! Easy man!" Dean said taking a careful step forward. "Its just us! Okay?"

Sam followed Dean into Chuck's living room, eyes flickering back and forth between Dean and Chuck in a panic. Chuck gave a sort of high pitched whine when he saw Sam approaching, so Sam halted in the doorway, settling his eyes on Chuck in a constant warning.

"Chuck, listen to me," Dean was saying, seeming to completely ignore the fact that the prophet was gazing terrified at his younger brother. "Where's Cas?"

Chuck made a choking sound, before he forced out, his voice rasping, "Dead. Gone. Exploded like a water balloon of chunky soup…"

The little bit of color in Dean's face drained away. "Cas…you stupid bastard," Dean hissed under his breath. His eyes locked on something on Chuck's head, and Dean reached up to pull it out, unsticking it from the hair.

"Fucking hell, is that a molar?" Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. Chuck whimpered and promptly passed out.

Dean swore loudly, chucking the tooth to the floor. "Sam, make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit or something. I'm going to go grab him some water…and a towel. Christ."

As Dean brushed passed him, Sam entered the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Chuck knew. He'd tell Dean, he'd tell the angels. Unless he could figure something out he was completely screwed.

But if the prophet was going to expose him, then why was he wasting his time here? He should be gathering his horsemen, getting ready for the main battle before Heaven started to interfere, otherwise the advantages from suffering the life of a human for so long were pointless. But Sam held him back. He didn't want to leave Dean…he didn't want to be abandoned by his big brother again, and as weak as that made him feel, he couldn't deny it.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The apocalypse was beginning, and the angels undoubtedly knew that he was free. Hell, they knew he was trying to break free before his plan even came to full fruition. Did that mean that they had already been preparing their armies? Was Michael already prepared for battle? And here he was, sitting on his ass and staring at a prophet of all things while the battle trumpets were probably already sounding. This was his best chance to have revenge on Father and Michael, and he was wasting time.

He had an army to lead.

But what would Dean do if he knew that Sam was Lucifer? That he was trying to bring humanity to its complete eradication?

What would Dean do if he knew that Sam was worse than every monster they'd ever faced up against?

He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand to see the disappointment and hatred in his brother's eyes. The strain in Dean's face from the demon blood was already driving him insane, but at least Dean hadn't ditched him yet, or left him for dead. At least he was still here.

Hell…was he seriously considering giving up his ultimate chance at victory for a human?

A choking sound brought Sam out of his spiraling thoughts, jerking his head up to look at Chuck. The grizzled man was convulsing in his seat, his eyes open, and rolling into the back of his head. He let out a choked gasp.

"Dean!" Sam called on instinct, hurrying over towards Chuck.

Dean burst into the room. "Sammy? What –" his voice cut off as Chuck began to speak.

"Lucifer is missing," Chuck rasped, and Sam felt his heart clench in fear. "Nick remains abandoned. The angels have lost the Michael sword, but will find it before the next sunrise. It will be found in the castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs. They come, here, now. The deceivers will be deceived. Bonds will be tested. The fallen will rise. Lucifer must make his choice. The Michael sword is the key. The angels are coming."

A deep shudder ran through Chuck's body, and he slumped against the couch, breathing heavy, his eyes half lidded and bleary.

It was a good thing Sam no longer needed oxygen to sustain himself, because he'd completely forgotten how to breathe. The Michael sword was on earth. It was already on earth. It shouldn't be possible! The entire point of his plan was to free himself before Heaven knew, so that he would have an advantage while they scrambled to recreate the Michael sword on earth.

But it was for nothing. Michael's vessel had been born, and worse yet, the angels very nearly had it in their possession. Lucifer wasn't inhabiting his true vessel…he was in a body created to hide himself until he managed to free his grace. The advantage of an unnoticed resurrection didn't match the raw power his true vessel would have brought, and if Michael had his true vessel, then his older brother had the major advantage.

But…but the angels had lost it. Which meant that he could find it and take it before them.

"Shit!" Dean cursed loudly. "Sam…Sammy we got to move. The angels are coming here!"

"What?" Sam rasped, too distracted to realize what that meant.

"Angels! As in the assholes who helped kick start the damn Apocalypse!" Dean hissed, grabbing on to Sam's arm and pulling him towards the front of the house. "After the crap they pulled I don't trust them for a god damn minute! We gotta get out of her before they come."

Suddenly Sam jumped into gear. Angels. Angels were bad, bad for Sam and Dean, bad for Lucifer. "Right."

Dean started out of the room towards the front door, hardly sparing a glance at Chuck, who was reaching for a notepad, and had began furiously scribbling and murmuring to himself, still in a daze from his episode.

Sam looked back at Chuck conflicted, before making a split decision and marching over to him, clamping his hands down on the prophet's shoulder forcefully. The man's head jerked up, as if only just realizing that the devil was still standing in his blood-stained living room. His eyes were wide, still filled with terror, but he didn't look away from the intense glare.

"You listen to me," Lucifer whispered dangerously, speaking quickly to get moving. "You won't tell anyone. Not the angels, not the demons, not Dean. You won't even write it down. Do you understand me?"

For a moment, Chuck just sat there, his eyes flickering across his face, and just as Lucifer decided that the prophet needed another push to answer, he made a funny sound in his throat as he nodded, just once.

Lucifer breathed out sharply, an unexpected relief twisting in his stomach, and he turned, heading out after Dean.

"You're still Sam."

Chuck's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face the prophet, who was standing now, his face still fearful, but his posture oddly firm.

"Sammy! Let's go!" Dean's voice cut through the building tension in the room, causing Sam's head to jerk towards the door.

"You're still Sam," Chuck said again, his voice trembling slightly.

For a moment, Lucifer's eyes glanced back at the prophet, but when he opened his mouth to retort, he found his throat had closed.

Without another word Sam left Chuck in his demolished living room, climbing into the familiar front seat of the Impala.

Sorry this has been so late! I just haven't had time to sit down and write out what've I've planned. But I did this chapter this morning, so its a little rushed and I should really spend some time editing it, but I really don't have time, so here it is, flaws and all! Thanks for reading and reviewing, I can't remember if I've responded to your reviews, but if I haven't, please know that I've read them and appreciate them more than you can imagine! They give me the inspiration to keep writing :) so thank you!

~Ducky