Cascade
K Hanna Korossy

"We didn't catch Lucifer," Dean said, "but we did save the crowd, so I'm gonna call that a win."

"I wouldn't," Sam said, voice flat. "Vince Vincente is dead. He was still a person, and he meant something to a lot of people."

00000

It was a hard return to reality, going back to school after Christmas break and finding out what their dad really did. Learning monsters were real. School suddenly seemed unimportant, superficial knowledge compared to what was really out there.

So Sam sought distractions. Much to Dean's approval, he went to a few parties, even a dance. Eventually asked a girl out…even if she turned out to be a kitsune. Started paying more attention to fiction and whatever Dean was watching on TV and music. Not his brother's and dad's music, but what the kids at school were into: Nirvana, Bon Jovi, Cry Wolf.

And then Ladyheart's third album, Hearts Afire, debuted. It rocked, literally. And Dean and John's disdain only made it more appealing.

Anxiety settled into numbness as it usually does long-term, but Sam still returned to the music sometimes when the clamor in his head grew too loud.

00000

"Lucifer was bad enough when he had a plan, a motive."

00000

Jess wasn't the only one Lucifer mimicked to try to convince Sam to say yes.

"You realize this is the only way to save me, right?"

Sam shied away from the form and voice of his brother, teeth clamped so firmly, his jaw ached.

"If you say yes, Sam, I'll be protected. Even when Michael loses, your brother will be safe, I promise. Sammy, c'mon, man, you owe me this."

"Dean would never want me to say yes," Sam said despite himself. His mouth snapped shut again.

"Yeah, well, Dean—I—told you to pick a hemisphere. You don't have to worry about what I think anymore. But you still love me, I know you do. So do this for me."

Sam rounded his shoulders, eyes burning. There was some truth to what Lucifer said. That was what made him so dangerous. And his words so wounding.

"You say no, and I will find another vessel. And when I do…it'll be too late. You ready to watch your brother die again, Sam?"

He was not. And that's why he kept his eyes tightly shut until the room was quiet again.

00000

"Now he's just having fun."

00000

Pain didn't have to be bad to crush the soul. It just needed to be unending. With no hope of it ever ending.

The viscera, the eyes, the tongue, the hands were all favorite targets of Lucifer. And there were no words for what he could do to a disembodied soul. He didn't have tools in the Cage, at least, but he was stronger, taloned and burning and awful in his true form, and when he wasn't going at Michael, he turned that horror on Sam.

His human mind couldn't remember many of the details anymore, couldn't grasp them without going insane. But sometimes in his dreams, in glimpsed flashbacks, in a lurch of his gut or a lightning bolt in his head, there would be a moment, a ghost of a memory.

Agony. Despair. Resignation. Desolation. There was no light left in the pit that was Lucifer.

And Sam was pathetically grateful he could remember no more than that.

00000

"I mean, how many people died tonight?"

00000

Dean had kept a battered notebook of names. Not of lives he saved. Of those he lost.

Sam countered it with a list of their successes. It was formidable, too. He thought, maybe, it had softened the guilt Dean lived with every day. Although Sam deliberately did not total the two lists, see which one tilted the balance.

That was for his brother, however. Of himself, Sam was a far harsher judge.

He didn't keep a written list. That would be too easy for Dean to find and worry about. And they often didn't have time to write up their notes on hunts, let alone keep any other kinds of records.

So Sam kept a running mental tally. And as he watched the covered gurneys roll out, he added Ladyheart's members and their manager to that list now.

Five more souls on the scales against the tarred feather that was his heart.

00000

"Them, this, it's all on us. I've let him out."

00000

Sam woke on the tail end of the scream, throat raw. There were already pounding footsteps in the hallway, and Dean soon stood panting in the doorway of his room.

"Jeez, Sam. You okay?"

"No," came out because he was still half-asleep and half-panicked, tears pooling, trickling at what he'd dreamed.

Dean sat on the bed carefully. "Lucifer again?"

Sam's head hung heavy. "I told you, man, I think I'm supposed to see him. I think God wants me to…go back to him."

"Yeah, well, I think your brain just wants to punish you," Dean countered. His palm was warm between Sam's shivering shoulder blades. "Dude…we're not letting Lucifer out, okay? That's just trading crazy for idiotic."

"Not let him out, just…talk to him."

"Right. And I'm sure he'll go right back into his Cage after."

Sam rubbed the back of his hand against his nose.

Dean took a breath. "Look, we'll talk about this tomorrow, okay? Get some more sleep now."

Sam sighed and lay back down, trying to obey.

And months later, woke screaming again, this time from the knowledge of Lucifer walking free.

00000

"We're not winning. We're just losing slow."

00000

He'd faced Lucifer in that interim cage, alone and terrified.

Then in Cas, his friend's face twisted into something terribly familiar.

Then living in their bunker, like some kind of demented house guest.

And then in Vince Vincente, someone Sam had once liked.

Every stage was a step up. Each one expanded Lucifer's reach, Sam's exposure to him, his horror at what he'd let out.

And, "Onward and upward," Lucifer had declared before taking off. "No plan. Just keep smashing Daddy's toys."

Including Sam's soul. Heartsick, he stood in front of the club that morning, arguing lifelessly with his brother. They hadn't won anything. They'd just made things worse.

Maybe that was all they ever did, he feared at times like this: kept trading bad for worse.

00000

"And we will stop him," Dean declared. "We will.

"It's what we do, man."

00000

"It's why I saved you years ago," Chuck had told Dean once. "You're the firewall between light and darkness."

And then just before he left, "Earth will be fine. It's got you…and Sam."

Dean didn't trust Chuck any farther than he could toss him. But that assurance still meant something to him.

They had done it, over and over. Resurrected Sam. Gotten Dean out of Hell. Stopped the Apocalypse…yeah, that they'd help start, but show him somebody who could've done better. Ended Raphael and Eve and the Leviathan, and every threat those monsters had levied against the world. Freed Dean from the Mark, and then saved the world again from Amara. Even Lucifer now roamed free only because he'd been part of a larger plan that included rescuing Earth from turning into toast. They were freakin' heroes.

Not that there wasn't plenty to feel guilty about. Dean never forgot a single person they lost, every failure. There were times when they got their asses handed to them, sure.

But they were the guys who saved the world. Dean honestly believed that.

And, looking at Sam, he could see his brother didn't, not in that moment.

"Listen to me," he said with quiet authority, the kind that Sam paid attention to. "You an' me, Sammy." Dean glanced at Cas, making sure the angel knew he was included. "Isn't that what you told me when I made the deal for you, or got the Mark? You an' me, we'd figure it out. And we always did. Even when-when it was just a coupl'a broke hunters against gods and monsters and Death, we still figured it out."

Dean could see Crowley grimace out of the corner of his eye, and, okay, ideally this moment would be more private, but he didn't care. Sam needed this. And Dean would lay his soul bare if Sam needed it.

He cupped his hand around the back of Sam's stiff neck, made him meet Dean's eyes, just the two of them in that space. "We'll beat this. We're Winchesters—it's what we do. If the odds pile up against us, screw it, that'll just make us fight harder, right? Even when we don't have a clue what to do next, we will figure it out."

Sam swallowed, eyes shiny, wounded.

Dean went softer. "I know this is gettin' to you because it's him, and, hey, man, I get it. I had trouble facin' Alistair again, and he and I had a lot less history than you and Lucifer." Sam flinched, and Dean squeezed a little harder. "But you're not down there anymore, and you're not alone. You got me, and Mom, and Cas." Dean glanced to the side and was gratified to see Crowley had had enough and vanished, but Castiel was listening gravely and nodding. "And Lucifer's on our turf now. So, yeah, this sucks, but he is not gonna win, you hear me?" Dean almost smiled as he gave Sam a little shake. "Long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you."

Sam gave a wet little laugh at that.

Good enough. Dean let him go and stood back. "So. You ready to get some breakfast and start brainstorming? Cas said he wants pancakes."

"I did not say—" Off Dean's look, Cas tilted his head. "Er, yes. I would…very much appreciate pancakes."

Sam shook his head, but a grin was still pulling at his mouth. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay," Dean agreed, patting him on the shoulder as the three of them headed back to the car.

It didn't really fix anything but Sam's spirits, a little bit, but…Dean was still calling it a win.

The End