AN: This ended up being re-written a few times, but I know where I want it to go, so next update will be in two weeks and will be a bit more plot heavy, questions answered etc. Warnings for this chap: gore, mind fucking, angsty Sam. Please review, I write more that way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am not making any profit.
There was a hand in his chest. Dean's hand
When he was nine, Sam had an obsession with stage magic, and learned how to palm coins and tricks. Lucifer reminded him about the misdirection of stage magic; watch me seduce you while I torture you as someone else. The principle was the same.
Lucifer had very reasonably pointed out that 'Sam was his', 'this would help Sam' and that 'if you weren't scared of this happening already then I couldn't play on those fears'.
Sam had told him to fuck off, and promptly got another size 12 steel toed boot to the jaw. Which he guessed was now a very lovely shade of purple.
So now Sam was sprawled out across the bed, in a room that really should have been drenched with blood. Apparently though, the walls had a nifty little feature of being able to suck the blood in.
Or there were invisible blood cleaning fairies. Either was possible.
Sam also mused that he was probably insane. Or getting there. The not-pain hurt a lot, he figured it hurt screaming out your vocal cords, but at the same time it didn't feel like anything.
"Sam..." The devil looked disappointed as Dean's façade faded away to the blond man, Sam's blood splashed across his face, "You are putting me in a very awkward position. Why do you force me to hurt you to make you understand?"
Sam tilted his head back, more blood gurgling from his mouth in frothy bubbles.
"Really, Sam." Lucifer used the hand not wrist deep in Sam's chest to gently brush away the blood foaming out of the Hunter's mouth, "You could avoid this so easily. Cooperation does not make you evil."
Sam laughed, sending more blood flying up in a fine spray, coating his face and the Devil's.
Once again, Lucifer gave Sam his saddest, disappointed face.
"Dean will not thank you for this." He said slowly, the hand still fondling Sam's ribs from the inside gripped harder shoving the broken pieces deeper into his lungs. "He will see that you willingly went with me. He will see that you are not fighting me. He will not see that you are torturing yourself in a vain attempt at assuaging your guilt."
Sam's glassy eyes gazed at him, almost uncomprehending. "My br'er," trying to talk over pain of having his insides tenderized.
"Yes, Sam. Your brother." Lucifer agreed, leaning close to Sam's face. "The one even now trying to destroy you."
Shaking his head didn't help and Sam couldn't find the words to point that Lucifer was the one torturing him. The Devil just ran over his objections, crushing the human's words.
"Why don't you listen to me, Samuel?" Lucifer asked sadly, the hand inside of Sam's chest released pulverized bones, pulling out of the sucking wound with a squishy wrench of movement.
The scream nearly destroyed Sam's hearing, and emphasized the feeling of his guts being torn from his body with the exiting hand. He could see it, gore encrusted, dripping blood onto the miraculously clean sheets, reaching for the Hunter.
Sam rolled desperately, using what little energy he had left, as Lucifer let go; crashing to floor as the bed ended. Hands grabbed at his front, trying to staunch the blood from his ripped open chest, trying to get away from those hands. Tingling pain washed through Sam as he hit the painfully new skin stretched over his chest and ribs.
Skin, Sam knew had been open to the world a moment ago, when Lucifer's hands were wrist deep in living blood and guts.
Wrapping his hands around his chest, feeling ribs that had broken seconds ago, Sam keened as he fell forwards into the bed; whole body leaning against it, the only thing keeping him on his knees. The high pitched whine echoing around the room as Sam tried frantically to wake up. Hoping that the blood and pain was only a nightmare.
Sam kept his eyes closed, still whining low in his throat, as he listened to heavy footsteps nearing him. Trying not to panic, as the gentle, wet, hand descended upon his neck, rubbing gently. Pretending it was Dean, being uncharacteristically nice and comforting. That it wasn't the Devil's, bloody hand he wanted to lean back on.
"It hurt Sam, didn't it." The hand tightened around Sam's neck. "I told you it doesn't have to be like that." Lucifer sounded almost disappointed.
Yeah, be disappointed in the human who can't understand why the torture is good.
"Samuel," Lucifer's voice went blank. The hand holding onto Sam's neck tightened viscously, growing colder and heavier as it forced Sam down into the bed.
Struggling briefly, Sam sagged as his air vanished, too weak to fight against the steel hand; remaining limp even as that hand vanished and oxygen rushed back. Sam fell to one side, away from the bed, to busy pulling in gasps of lost air to pay attention to the legs he was leaning against.
As reality slowly returned and unconsciousness stopped looming in a cloud of black spots, Sam did become aware of the legs he was leaning into- he just didn't care anymore. Breaking more on the inside as he leaned into the denim clad legs of his torturer.
Lucifer, Father of Demons was now his only tether to reality.
It made Sam want to break out in hysterical laughter again. Or cry.
"What do you want?" Sam whispered, he could still feel, imagine, bones grinding together in his chest.
A burning gaze stabbed through Sam's skull.
"Do I need to want something?" Lucifer asked above the Hunter's head, sounding curious.
"Why," Sam half sobbed, leaning his face into those stone legs, "Why."
"I suppose because I can," Sam felt the Devil reach down to curl fingers through his hair. "You freed me Sam. Freed me from the Cage itself. You are a very special human."
"Don' wanna be," Sam breathed into soft jeans.
"Humans. Such contrary creatures." Lucifer seemed amused. "The ones that aren't special want to be and the ones who are…" He trailed off, waiting for Sam's response.
Sam imagined Lucifer grinning in the pause.
"Well I suppose they know better."
"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly, trying not to let the giggles escape.
The Devil's hand carded through his hair, possibly in agreement, before Sam was gently shoved forwards to lean against the bed. The gentle hand and harsh presence pulled back, footsteps moving away from the still weak hunter.
"Wait," Sam mumbled into the bed covers.
He heard the heavy footsteps stopping, silence descending.
Sam didn't have the energy left to panic over what he was going to say to Lucifer, didn't want to ask about all the questions Beelzebub had brought up, or about why Lucifer had come to him at all, why the Devil had…saved him, Sam realized.
"Don't leave me alone," Sam begged, weakly lifting his head to gaze at the Fallen Angel. He was grateful Lucifer had allowed him the time to pull his thoughts together, but Sam was still expecting to see smug glee, or pride in Lucifer's face at hearing the plea.
The soft acceptance in unfathomable eyes was worse. The other emotions Sam expected were still there, but that acceptance tore through the Hunter's soul like the colt.