Chapter I

A/N: A billion thanks to I am the Color of Boom for beta reading and super cheerleading. This story wouldn't exist without you. It took me 8 months after writing this to get the courage to post it.

UPDATE 2017: This story has been removed and discontinued on here, but it continues on Archive of Our Own under my new pen-name, Sedated.

Dell Rapids, South Dakota

Sam Winchester sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with the base of his palms, resting his elbows on the wooden table he had his laptop set up on. He could hear the occupants of the motel room next to them running a shower. Idly, he wondered when the last time he'd bathed had been. Probably before all of the apocalypse shit had hit the fan.

Before he had doomed the world and freed Lucifer.

"Find anything, Sammy?" Dean's voice cut into his internal self-loathing.

"Uh, not much. Nothing more than your run of the mill abductions, murders, and rapes," the younger Winchester brother responded as he shut his laptop, pushing it away from himself.

"That's good, gives us time to focus on ganking Lucifer," Dean replied, grabbing the chair on the opposite side of the table and turning it to face himself before falling into the seat, crossed forearms resting against the headrest as he slouched.

Sam stiffened at the word, flexing his jaw and temple and repressing an angry laugh as he glared down at the dirty, aged wood. "Yeah."

"Sam, is there something you're not telling me?" Dean's gruff voice cut into the silence as he reached over his chair, grabbing his little brother's full beer and taking a swig.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing, just tired I guess," Sam replied, standing up from his chair. He didn't want to hear what his brother would have to say if he admitted Lucifer was visiting his dreams every single night.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he nursed the cheap beer, but didn't press the subject as his brother laid down on the floral orange comforter of the motel room bed.

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite, Sam. Really. I'm itchy in all the wrong places after last night," Dean said as he pulled his brother's laptop across the table, popping open the screen.

Sam scowled into his pillow and eased himself off the bed with a sigh. He grabbed his brown leather jacket off the nearby lounging chair, and gave it a shake before shrugging it on. "I'm going to the store. Need anything?"

"Uhh, six pack and some pie—bring some pie Sam," the older Winchester said distractedly as he started tapping on the laptop keyboard.

Sam sat his plastic bag on the ground next to the park bench he was sitting on. He needed sleep, but he couldn't without Lucifer walking into his dreams, taunting him about their 'future together.'

He watched a couple of birds jump from branch to branch in a tree situated in the center of the park. It was evening, the park was quieting down and the street lights had kicked on.

He leaned back against the bench and tilted back his head, eyes drifting closed and a warm breeze ruffling his brown hair. The late mid-day sun was warming his cheekbones, and for a minute, he forgot about the apocalypse.

Sam jolted upright, feeling more exhausted than before and looking around himself in confusion. It was night time now, but there was no way he had drifted off for hours. It had felt like he'd closed his eyes for no more than a few seconds.

He looked around for the bag of pie and beer, but it was gone. Someone must have stolen it.

The hunter fumbled for his phone, pulling it out of his pocket and frowning as it vibrated and rang out an unfamiliar song. The caller ID read 'The Devil You Know.'

Sam's eyes widened and he dropped his phone on to the grass as a laugh started to reverberate out of its speakers with the ringtone. The laugh got louder, and the sky above got darker, the black clouds whipping around ominously and blotting out the moon and stars.

Sam felt adrenaline start to pump through his veins and he searched his pockets for his weapons, all of which were gone.

"Boo."

Sam felt a puff of cool air against his earlobe, and he leaped forward and spun around in a single frantic motion, chills running down his spine.

Lucifer spread out his arms in a wide welcoming gesture, a smile plastered across his face. "Sam, it's been so long! I almost felt like you were avoiding me," the blond said in a playful voice, strolling casually forward as Sam backed away. "But I knew you had to sleep eventually, so, I just waited. Have you thought over my offer again?"

"The answer is no. It will always be no," Sam said hoarsely, lifting his chin up and glaring at the devil.

"Oh come on now, no need for the dramatics, we both know that's not true. Detroit, Sam. It's gonna happen. But this isn't Detroit, is it?"

The Winchester felt horror flood his veins as Lucifer looked around, observing their surroundings. This was a dream, and there was no way Lucifer could know what obscure park this was. It was a small town in South Dakota, smack in the middle of nowhere.

The fallen archangel looked back over at Sam, smiling crookedly at whatever he saw on his face.

Sam pinched his eyes closed and tried to will himself into consciousness. Wake up, wake up—

"Wake up!" Lucifer whispered sharply. Sam's green eyes flew open and he found himself so close that his nose was almost brushing the angel's. Blue eyes pinched as Lucifer laughed, and Sam stumbled backwards another step, the backs of his legs hitting the bench and his still-ringing phone getting trampled underfoot.

The archangel smiled. "See you soon, pal," the blond said, reaching up two fingers and tapping them against Sam's forehead.

Sam felt the world go dark and his knees buckle, the sound of Lucifer's ringtone being the last thing to fade before Sam was back in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Say your prayers, say your prayers, say your prayers.

"Hey! Man, you can't sleep here. You can't leave your dog off-leash, either."

Sam opened wide eyes and looked around, breathing heavily. It was later in the day, but not night. His grocery bag was still cold against his lower leg, and his phone was buzzing in his pocket.

A black-haired guy, who must have worked for the park, was glaring at him unappreciatively and holding a blue leash.

"Here," he snapped, throwing the end of the leash into Sam's lap. "Go on, man. There's a shelter not far from here. They allow pets."

Sam breathed heavily as tiny brown paws settled on his knees, a strangely familiar brown dachshund puppy wagging its tail and staring up at him with pleading eyes and a shiny wet nose.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, standing up and shoving the leash off of himself. He reached for his phone in his pocket. 2 missed calls and a voicemail from Dean. He pushed his phone back into his jacket pocket as the guy in front of him sighed irritably.

"Lucifer."

"What?"

He was coming. Sam leaped off the bench and shoved the park guy out of the way, pausing to grab his grocery bag and ran out of the park, across the street, and down the sidewalk toward the motel. He ignored the expletives the guy from the park was shouting at his back.

The little brown dog chased after him, yipping and barking indignantly. Sam looked over his shoulder in horror as a car came barreling down the road toward the defenseless animal. He swore under his breath and ran awkwardly into the road to scoop up the dog, waving apologetically as the driver screamed and laid on her horn.

The dog licked his face excitedly as he started jogging away. Sam tried to hold it away from his face and it growled, then started chewing at the grocery bag. The six pack fell out the hole, hitting Sam in the foot. "Shit," he snapped, yanking his shoe out from under the box and stopping to set the dog down.

He started off again toward the motel, fear pushing him faster. This time he ignored the puppy's yelps of protest as it pelted after him down the sidewalk, easily keeping pace despite its tiny legs.

He finally got to their motel room and started frantically banging on the door, having lost the dog back at the cement steps. "Dean, it's Sam! Open the door!"

There was a pause and the sound of something falling and then the door swung open to reveal a disheveled Dean in grey sweatpants. Sam pushed him aside and slammed the door behind him, leaning back on it to catch his breath.

"Sammy? Are you okay? Did you get the pie?" Dean asked, prying the plastic bag from his brother's sweaty hand and looking into the bag curiously.

"Dean, we have to go. Now."

"Dammit Sam, did you drink all the beer without me?" Dean asked bitterly, tilting his head at the hole in the bag and putting his hand through it with a frown. He pulled the pie out with an appeased smile, and set it on to the motel table.

"Dean, can you sober up? Lucifer is coming."

"Yeah, yeah, Sam, I know. All right? Give the apocalypse thing a rest for a second. Let's cut into this pie."

There was a scratching sound against the motel room door, and then a muted yip.

"He's here," Sam said breathlessly. "Shit, shit. Where are the keys? Where's Cas?"

"Oh-ho, hey Sammy, here's something that ought to keep your mind off of doomsday," Dean said with a sly wink as he pulled a note off the top of the pie.

Can't wait to see you tonight. ;)

-Lucie

Dean pressed the post-it note into Sam's shirt, then patted it and smoothed it out to ensure it stuck. "Wear it with pride, loverboy—Jesus, what is that noise?" he leaned over a petrified Sam to look out the peephole on the old door. "Hey Sam, this day just gets better and better for you, there's a wiener dog outside!"

"Dean. Lucifer found me. He knows where I am, and he's coming."

The amusement melted off his brother's face in an instant and real concern replaced the tipsiness in his eyes. "Get the pie, let's go."

Dean grabbed his Colt M1911A1 off the old bed and fished the keys for the Impala out of his sweatpants pocket, shoving the motel door open and letting the puppy run into the apartment where it hid under the table, just as the first clap of thunder shook the sky.

Sam sucked in a breath as the wind picked up, the air suddenly colder than it had been on the way home. He could feel it.

He ran out into the parking lot and pulled open the door of the Impala, shutting it behind him while Dean was backed out of the parking lot.

"Did you get the pie?"

"Goddammit Dean forget the pie," Sam said through gritted teeth.

Dean slammed on the brakes. "This is the last pie I'm getting for a week, we can't starve and we can't stop to get a snack with Lucifer on our ass. I'll be right back," his older brother said, then he threw open his car door and jogged back into the motel room.

"He's right, you really shouldn't stop for a snack," a voice said teasingly from the back seat.

The skin around Sam's eyes tightened and his shoulders tensed. "Lucifer."

"Aww, really, call me Lucie," the devil crooned as he leaned forward from the back seat, plucking the post-it off of Sam's shirt and dropping it in the driver's seat. "Time's up, Sam. No more running."

He paused to smile at the human's angry expression and tapped him gently on the forehead.

The Impala was empty.

Detroit, Oregon

A flutter of wings and a swooping sensation in his stomach later, a hand was on the small of Sam's back, steadying him as he swayed. He was standing on the wooden planks of a deck.

He blinked, his vision swimming for a moment.

"Breathe."

The brown-haired hunter gasped, just then realizing he had been holding his breath.

"Don't touch me," Sam said, pushing the hand off of him and taking an unsteady step away from the blond beside him. "Where—Dean—"

He was startled into quiet as he registered his new surroundings. Intimidating, leafy trees stretched toward the sky. The sun was almost setting, painting the sky purple, pink, red, and orange. The house attached to the deck was built out of red brick and mahogany wood; it fit snugly into the mountainside overlooking a glimmering lake. It was beautiful, but Sam felt sick.

"Where are we?" he asked monotonously, closing his eyes as he heard the fallen archangel approach.

"Detroit. Detroit, Oregon, specifically."

Sam felt his stomach sink. He felt like he might throw up. His face paled. "I'm so sorry, Dean," he said hoarsely to the open air in front of him.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

Lucifer frowned, and he stepped in front of the Winchester. His blue eyes were squinted against the setting sun but his eyebrows still arched, and he moved his pursed lips left and right as he dropped his smile. "Okay."

Sam blinked. "I'm never going to say yes. You can't force me. Torture me all you want."

Lucifer's face split into a closed-mouth grin, and he laughed. "What a generous offer Sam, but I wasn't planning on torturing you. Unless, of course, you're into that kind of thing," he said with a salacious wink.

Sam ground his teeth together. "Shut up."

Lucifer blinked, his eyebrows twisting into fake hurt. "Why, Sam, you're a guest in my home and you're being so rude," he said in a simpering tone, anger thinly concealed under the surface.

"Why are you holding me hostage if you aren't going to make me say yes?" Sam demanded, temple flexing repeatedly. He had no weapon that could save him. He was defenseless, for one of the first times in his life, and it felt horrible.

Lucifer smiled at the cute, human action. "Don't you get it yet? Me, and you—why, we're basically soulmates. I don't have to force you to say yes. You will. Because you understand me, Sam."

"We are—nothing—alike," Sam spat, lifting his shoulders and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Sure we are. Our daddies both expected us to do something stupid for the good of mankind, we refused, so they threw us out. Boohoo." He paused to draw a fake tear down his cheek with his fingertip. "We have a heroic big brother who daddy loves for always agreeing with him. We've always felt different, been outcast. We're freaks. Do I need to keep going? He made us the same, Sam. You're me. It isn't a coincidence that you are my true vessel." Lucifer had closed the distance between them as he spoke, and now he lifted his eyebrows imploringly, a small smile still on his lips. "M.F.E.O., literally."

Sam blinked, and looked away from the angel's blue eyes. "Why me? You already have a vessel." The hunter felt a surge of shame. The apocalypse was already his fault.

"It has to be you Sam, don't you get it? This was his plan, all along," Lucifer said, his voice breaking into a hysterical laugh that died quickly. "Good ol' dad, when he made humans, angels couldn't touch the earth anymore without your consent. This vessel is a substitute at best. It's going to spontaneously combust. I need you." The devil's expression had lost its normal touch of amusement, and now his face was contorted in anger

Sam closed his eyes, feeling terrible. It figured that he was made to be a vessel for the devil.

"Well, I'll give you time to think. Toodles, check yourself in."

In an instant, Sam found himself alone again.

Sam got to work planning his escape. There were no cars, probably since Lucifer had wings and all. They were miles from civilization as far as he could tell, but he had left Sam with all of his weapons. He still had his phone, but there was no service.

The house was undeniably beautiful, with skylights, high ceilings, incredible interior design, and a phenomenal view—but he wasn't going to give it too much thought. Sure, it beat bedbug infested motel rooms any day, but he was a hostage, not a guest.

The Winchester leaned tiredly against the frame of the double front doors, his eyes feeling heavy with dark purple shadows underneath them.

He hadn't slept in days, thanks to Lucifer invading every dream he had. He'd gotten maybe half an hour at that park; the exhaustion was starting to catch up. Not to mention that he smelled like roadkill and hadn't shaved since the dreams started. It maybe wouldn't hurt to take advantage of the house, clean himself up, and get a night's rest where Lucifer wouldn't haunt him. The sun was down anyway, and he had no idea which direction to go in to get service.

He shook himself. Dean would go nuts if he could hear him now. How about I just stay one night at Lucifer's? Yeah, that would go over well.

Exhausted, hungry, and cold, Sam threw open the front door and started down the dirt path along the steep mountainside. The devil's presence left the state several degrees cooler than it should have been that time of year.

Sam was exhausted. He felt his vision blurring as he tripped a couple times down the trail. It was cloudy and dark, and a cold wind was whipping the tree limbs violently.

The hunter stuffed his hands in his pockets and then paused to get his gun when he heard a rustle from the woods. Oregon had cougars, wolves, and he was pretty sure some bears. Lucifer might have demons watching the place too, for all he knew.

Not like it mattered. The archangel would just bring him back if he died. He smiled bitterly to himself as he pulled out his phone to check for service.

He had one bar.

The younger Winchester gasped in relief a couple times, then opened and closed his eyes to be sure he wasn't imagining things. He laughed disbelievingly to himself.

With shaky hands he tucked his gun back into his pocket and started unlocking his phone. He pulled up Dean's contact when suddenly something heavy collided into his back and knocked him to the ground. He could feel teeth closing around the back of his neck.

When his head made sharp contact with a rock his vision fizzled out, and the ringing in his ears drowned out all other sounds.

"Sam. Sa-am. Wake up."

Green eyes blinked tight several times as they fluttered open. He found himself staring into silver-blue eyes, blond bangs, and a familiar amused smile.

Sam sucked in a breath and rolled away, then off the side of the bed with a thump. Pushing himself upright, he leaned against the wall and breathed heavily, his knees bent.

He shook his head, and glared up at the blond who was now sprawled casually across the wooden platform bed, knees bent behind him and his head resting on his palms as he looked down at the hunter.

"Rise and shine, buttercup. How'd you sleep?"

"How did I get here? What happened?" Sam demanded gruffly as he stood up, glaring at the angel as he backed away, keeping a hand against the wall as he did.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and sighed, rolling on to his back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. "You got into a wrestling match with a lion and you didn't win. Maybe you were just trying to spare his feelings, though. Did you really think I would just let you leave, Sam?"

Sam went to reach for his gun only to realize he wasn't wearing his jacket anymore. "What did you do with my stuff?" he snapped.

Lucifer sighed and lifted a hand. Sam tensed apprehensively, but a torn-up, bloodied leather jacket simply lifted out of the hamper and threw itself against the wall next to him.

Hesitantly, Sam leaned over to pick it up, not taking his eyes off of the angel until he was upright with his bloody jacket in hand.

It was ripped apart, with long claw marks dug into the back and the collar ripped off. He searched the pockets, carefully taking out his knives and guns, but his phone was missing.

"Looking for this?"

Sam jumped at the sudden proximity when the archangel spoke less than a foot away. "Don't do that," he mumbled, and he took his proffered phone, shuddering when his fingers brushed Lucifer's. It was hard to get used to.

No. He wouldn't be getting used to it. He wasn't staying here, and he needed to stop thinking like that.

Sam felt his stomach sink in despair as he looked at his phone. It was destroyed. The screen was missing most of its glass and the buttons were unusable. He sank to the ground with his back against the wall and tightened his grip around the broken cellphone. The glass dug into his palm and he pinched his eyes closed, roaring in frustration, and launched the electronic at the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"Temper, temper," Lucifer said in a quiet voice. Sam made a conscious effort not to look up as the fallen archangel leaned down next to him. "Where's your puppy?"

"What?" Sam snapped, feeling out of breath and looking up into the asshole's blue eyes.

"I got you a puppy. Remember? Frankie? He should have been with you when you got here, now that I think of it."

Sam paused, blinking several times. He opened and then closed his mouth as he remembered the dachshund puppy he had left in that old motel room. "That was a real dog?"

Lucifer huffed, standing up. "Well, of course, silly. I know you always wanted one. But you left him in South Dakota, didn't you? I'll be right back."

Sam was alone in the room again. He held his knees to his chest and pinched his eyes closed, resting his forehead against his arms. Why was this happening? When would Dean come to bust him out? What was Satan's plan? And why the hell did he actually feel bad for leaving a dog he got from the devil?

There was a popping sound, and instead of Lucifer reappearing in the room, the dachshund puppy from yesterday appeared alone and waddled on his four stubby legs up to the distressed human. He laid down, resting his furry chin sympathetically on Sam's toes.

This story has been removed and discontinued on here, but it continues on Archive of Our Own under my new pen-name, Sedated.