JAR OF BLOOD
By: Karen B.
Summary: Season Seven – Gawd! I love typing that!—Spoiler warning! A short Missing scene for 7-1. Freaked-out Sam. Amused, gloating Lucifer.
Disclaimer: Not the owner
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell -Oscar Wilde
Always the ambassador of calm, cool, and collect, Lucifer said, "You never left, Sam. You're still in the cage…with me,"he practically sung the last two words he was so happy.
Sam stared at the devil before him for several long minutes, until time shattered and his heart suddenly started pounding and he grew cold. Freezing cold; so cold his blood turned to bits of frozen ice raging through his veins.
For every second he thought he'd been in control of the wheel, Lucifer had actually been dragging him through the coals.
How could this be? All this time?
Sam shivered hard, gaping at Lucifer with wide-eyed fear.
All these months, weeks, days, hours, seconds, he'd thought he'd been sprung from the cage? In truth, he never had. Never drank a beer with his brother, never breathed the fresh air, never road in the Impala listening to Dean's tunes, never did the horrible things he'd thought he'd done - and thank God for that much.
"Sammy, you know it's not polite to stare." Lucifer grinned.
Sam didn't look away. "How? Why? How?" he stuttered uncertainly.
"Simple torture can be so boring," Lucifer said dully. "I needed to break up the monotony somehow. Get a little creative."
"No. "Sam shook his head, in a state of shock. "No, no, no," he repeated, feeling sick like he'd been mule-kicked in the gut.
"I can see you're having a hard time understanding, Sam. Let me explain," Lucifer said in a stay-calm- fatherly-sort of voice. "Think of yourself as Alice, falling down the rabbit hole." Lucifer wrinkled his nose. "No, to cliché. How about Sleeping Beauty, taking a bite of the apple. No. I'm the only handsome prince around here and I'd never kiss you awake. Oh, but wait," he frowned, "That was Snow White who ate the poison apple wasn't it? Never could get my fairytales straight. I got it." Lucifer raised a finger. "Think of this as your own personal Matrix, and l buried you deep under."
"It's a lie. It's not true," Sam sputtered breathlessly.
"You know it's true, Sam, you can feel it inside of you. And you'll keep falling down that hole; keep taking bite after bite of my apple. Sam, you'll choose the blue pill every single time, throughout eternity. I'll do this to you again and again and you won't even know it." Lucifer shrugged. "At least not until I decide to let you know it…" he gave a smirk and a slight tilt of his head. "Like now," he said cheerfully.
Sam was speechless, wrestling with belief and doubt as Lucifer stood before him, a gloating look upon his face.
Everything he'd just lived was unraveling fast.
Stupid. He was so stupid. Who ever heard of a shell of a body, walking around soulless? Or an alpha vampire? He would never stand by and watch Dean get turned and there never was a cure for a vampire's bite. And what about this mother of all, dragons, Jefferson Starships, a kind-hearted Death building walls instead of reaping? And when would their friend, Cas, ever go rouge turning his back on them. How could any of that have been remotely real - even in the supernatural world? He should have known. Why didn't he know?
Lucifer continued to gloat. "That's right, Sam. Let it sink in." He gave another little shrug. "Or not. Doesn't matter. I've got you and I'm keeping you, whether you believe or not. There is no way out of here. Not for me, not for Michael, and most certainly not for you."
Sam staggered back. Of course the devil was delighting. He'd deepened Sam's grave, pulled him down farther into the cage with him than ever before. Once again, he'd reduced Sam to a blubbering glob of nothingness. Stripped him of all hope, of all happiness, of any forgiveness, any redemption, stripped him of his family. Sam was alone again, alone in the cage with a demon, and an angel, and worse, trapped within his own inner hell.
Shoulders drooping, Sam started to tremble. His legs barely could hold him up, was as if they were the thickness of a single strand of hair. He swallowed reflexively and stared down at the jar in his hands. The crimson liquid inside the jar started to bubble.
"You think that's blood for a spell, to open a doorway?" Lucifer asked seriously. "You know what that really is? It's the blood of everyone you every hurt, everyone you ever killed. Every soul you ever tried to save. You cut them all. You never saved anyone. You deserve this hell, Sam. You deserve every second of it and you know it."
Sam's vision distorted, images galloping about as he stared at the boiling blood inside the jar. He'd hurt so many. Been responsible for too many deaths. Jessica, dad, mom, Dean, Madison, crap he'd almost killed Bobby with his own hands. He killed so many innocent people in the name of right when he was soulless, like that lady bartender he'd shot, taking her out of the equation. Wait. No. Sam shook his head that wasn't real. Was it? He was never soulless.
Sam's entire life twisted and turned, utterly backward and confusing, unreadable. It was as if he were viewing it all staring into a giant mirror. Lucifer had completely choreographed the last two years of his life. The funhouse maze of mirrors was horrifying and he had no clue what was reflection of glass or what was the real McCoy anymore.
"It's too small." Sam sucked in a breath and held it, still staring steadily at the jar. If this jar was filled with the blood of all he'd hurt and killed it would be the size of the Empire State Building, and still not be big enough.
"I can tell all that you're feeling and thinking, Sam. The jar is plenty big enough." Lucifer hovered closer. "There's one drop of blood, collected from every soul you damned. Just one. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz," Lucifer cackled.
"What?" Sam's head shot up, his heart pounding louder; soon it would burst out his ears. He teetered and his eyes did a little roll, but he fought to keep hold of himself.
"Come on, Sam. Just go with it." Lucifer cocked his head and smirked. "Don't you like this gig?" He waved a hand around, "Strictly hardcore dream stuff. I've really outdone myself. Wouldn't you say that I've outdone myself, Sam?" He laughed the deep throaty laugh of the devil.
"Please. No," he panted.
"You can't escape me, can't boycott me, Sam. We're a team. Forever and ever," Lucifer cleared his throat. "Amen."
Sam teetered sideways, how'd he move to the rear of the short bus so quickly? How could he have been so blinded? How could he have gotten so badly turned about that he didn't know up from down, left from right, black from white?
"Omigod," Sam groaned pitifully.
"Yes, Sam." Lucifer smiled. "Here, I am your God, and a damn good one I might add."
"Dean," Sam sobbed, looking past Lucifer down the hallway to where his brother and Bobby waited for him – or not.
"He's topside, Sam, living the dream with his new family, Ben and Lisa, glad to be rid of you. If he wasn't, don't you think he'd have come looking for you by now?" Lucifer pointed out cruelly. "Or-"he paused, glancing upward thoughtfully, "Or maybe he's just dead, prancing around heaven in a diaper or maybe he's chained to a rack in a hell I don't rule anymore. After all you…I mean we… did beat on his face like it was Foreman's punching bag," he reminded. "That part was real."
Sam's eyes started to tear up and burn.
"Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry, but I play for keeps. Maybe next time I'll add a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down easier." Lucifer winked. "But then again… maybe not."
Still gripping the jar tight in his hand, Sam started to fade, nearly dropping to his knees. Just when he thought he might have a chance in this world again, he found he was once again broken into pieces, like a small bird hitting the propeller blade of a jumbo jet going 2,000 miles per hour three miles high. His insides turned to runny creamed corn faster than he could blink. Lucifer was a weapon of mass destruction and Sam was his playing field – from the age of six months to eternity.
"Guh," Sam choked, robbed of breath and almost letting the jar slip through his fingers.
Quickly he gathered what little strength he had left and held tight to the container. It seemed that was all he had left.
"Ah, the sweetness of my hell," Lucifer said joyfully, his amusement and vanity obvious.
Sam's mouth moved, but his vocal chords wouldn't allow any words to pass his quivering, dry and dehydrated lips. His vision blurred and he could hardly see. 'Sorry. I'm so sorry,' he mimed, his voice frayed as he stared once again into the boiling blood inside the jar.
"I can't describe the pleasure I get from watching you suffer," Lucifer crooned. "I almost think I should erect a statue in my own honor. What do you think, Sam? Maybe I'll have you build one for me. Maybe I'll hang your brother from it using meat hooks, and we can pound on his face some more, you and I, then I'll make you rip out his spine and you can build a ladder with his broken bones to escape again." Lucifer shrugged. "But not really," he chuckled heartily. "The crux of it all is…you'll never escape me, Sam. Never."
Sam drew his shoulders back and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Screw you."
"More like screw with you," Lucifer tsked, "It is pointless to resist me, Sam. You know that. I will have my druthers no matter what you do. Just give in now, Sammy."
"You don't ever get to call me Sammy," Sam spat.
"Spoil sport." Lucifer frowned, shaking his head.
"I'm not your play toy."
"Oh, but you are, Sam. And everyone and everything in this universe knows it."
"I'll never give in to you." Sam breathed in and out slowly through his nostrils, trying hard not to pass out.
"You sound so certain of that." With composed ease, Lucifer stepped in front of Sam, up close and personal. "How can you be so certain of anything?" He dared. "But I do have to give you credit for trying, Sam, the boy who just wouldn't give up." The devil nodded his approval. "Makes all this the more fun for me."
With uncoordinated jerky movements Sam slowly inched past Lucifer, jar of blood gripped tight in his hand.
"You're going to run, aren't' you Sam? I know you, it's what you do every time," Lucifer snipped.
"I'm going to find a way to end you," Sam growled, tucking away the fear that wanted to burst him into pieces, determination now searing in his hazel eyes.
"Bravo, Sam. I thought I'd broken you this time. You are a champion." Lucifer leaned a shoulder against a wall, looking pridefully on. "Go ahead, be my guest and try, because you are my guest, Sam." The devil snapped his fingers and he disappeared. "Go scurry like a rat through my dark, slimy sewer pipe," his disembodied voice echoed. "You'll never find the button and there is no cheese - only hell. See you there," he said, and then all was silent.
Sam leaned against the wall for support as he headed down the hallway back toward the lab, jar of blood gripped tight in his hand. He was spread thinner than butter on soggy bread and so messed up. His wits were turned about so badly he thought with his heart and not with his brain. He had to get back to Bobby, Cas and –
"Dean," Sam called out, worried his strength was failing and he wouldn't make it on time. On time for what?
"Giving up so soon? You're going the wrong way, Sam. Dean's not there remember," Lucifer laughter filled Sam's head.
Sam toddled a few more steps down the hallway, and then stopped. What was he doing? Everything he'd lived was a wavering dream, and he was little more than an ant up against a scorpion.
"I'll make this right for everyone," he said, setting the jar of blood to the ground in exchange for his gun. "I'll end this world of lies." He turned and blindly stumbled off. "I swear to it."