This is not a new story. This is a reedit and repost of my collab story with Snarkymuch2. It has previously been posted on her profile alone. I am editing and changing to past tense for those readers that don't like present tense reading. That said, any feedback would be more than welcome as we are currently working on the sequel and we would love to know what you would like to see more/less of. Also, for you reluctant slash readers, there are no graphic scenes in this story. It is first and foremost a love story.
I can claim no credit for this chapter as it was written solely by Snarkymuch2. I didn't play a part of the writing process until chapter two.
"Sam, run!" Dean yelled as he pushed Sam in front of him. "Hurry!"
The hellhounds cried out in the night, howling and baying in the distance. Sam could almost feel the energy of them crackling in the night air. The pounding beats of paws grew closer, louder, and Dean and Sam pushed themselves faster. Sam's legs were beginning to tremble as they ducked into an alleyway.
Dean found an old, green door recessed into the brickwork of the alley wall. He shoved it with his shoulder and the old lock gave way. "This way, Sammy."
Sam looked back over his shoulder. He could hear the hounds close, too close. They were huffing and snarling as they closed the distance between them. Sam was almost hypnotized by the sound. He thought back to his dream from the night before, to Lucifer. Lucifer had said that he would hunt them, hunt Dean, until Sam gave himself up. This must have been what he meant. The Devil had told him all he had to do was say yes, or at the least, come with him. Give him a chance to explain his side of things. He never thought the Devil would send hellhounds after him.
Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's jacket and yanked him towards the door. "Let's go," he said as he shoved Sam inside. The hallway they found themselves in smelled of urine and garbage. There was a narrow staircase and Dean grabbed Sam, dragging him up it.
The hounds clawed and howled at the door, begging for entrance. The lock didn't hold them long, though. As soon as they began to throw their weight at it, Sam knew it was over.
Just as Dean dragged Sam around the corner at the top of the stairs, there was a bang and the sound of heavy paws slamming into the floor.
"Shit! Run, Sammy!" Dean shoved Sam forward and turned to face the oncoming hounds. With a rush of air, Dean was thrown back into the wall, and claw marks appeared on his chest. It was too familiar for Sam, and he thought back to what it was like to see Dean get dragged to hell. He didn't want to put his brother through it again. He had to make the deal.
"Lucifer!" Sam cried as he ran and grabbed at the invisible hound, cutting his arms and side in the process. Blood was everywhere, Dean and Sam's mixed together. "Call them off and I'll go with you!"
Using all his strength, Sam worked his way between Dean and the hellhound. His hands were slippery with blood and he could feel the teeth cutting and slicing his flesh. He began to wonder if Lucifer was in fact just going to leave them both to die.
Suddenly, the hounds whined and fell back. They cried out as if they were in pain, and Sam wondered if they were.
"What…?" Dean said, panting. "Sam?"
Sam looked at Dean apologetically and then hung his head. "I'm sorry."
Dean pushed himself off the wall and, holding his bleeding side, he walked over to Sam. "What's going on, Sam?"
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I have to do this." Sam drew back a bloody fist and landed a blow to Dean's jaw, sending him tumbling back to the floor.
Sam walked out of the building and headed to the street. He went to the car and grabbed his duffel. With a hung head, he walked out to the alleyway and fell to his knees, praying to the one angel that they all feared, that they all knew could end it all. He prayed to Lucifer.
With sweaty, bloody hands, he waited, the damp ground soaking through his jeans. Blood dripped down his fingertips and onto the cold damp ground.
There was a faint fluttering of wings and then he knew he was not alone. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. For a moment, he regretted what he was doing. Maybe he should find another way, but then he remembered what it was like to see Dean being torn to pieces by the hellhounds, and he set his jaw. No matter what Lucifer did to him, he wouldn't say yes. He couldn't.
Lucifer approached him slowly, head tilted to the side. "You're hurt," the angel said solemnly, as if the knowledge pained him.
Sam swallowed and looked up at him. "Only because of you."
"Believe me, Sam, I didn't want you injured. You're my vessel, my other half. Having you hurt doesn't serve my purpose."
Sam looked up at him with contempt. "If I go with you, do you promise to keep Dean safe?"
The devil was calm and cool, and it made Sam cringe. "Of course. I won't let a demon so much as touch a hair on his head."
Sam nodded. He was doing this for Dean and no one else. "So are we going or what?" Sam said quietly. He didn't want to play Lucifer's games. He didn't want to talk to the fallen angel.
Lucifer nodded. He reached out and touched Sam's shoulder and, a moment later, they were gone.
When they reappeared, they were in what looked like a rundown motel.
"Home sweet home, Sammy," Lucifer chimed.
Sam clutched a hand to the wounds on his side. He was still kneeling. "Where are we?"
Sam nodded and looked around. The room was shabby and worn. There were two beds, both still made. A small fridge hummed in the corner, struggling on its last legs. The curtains were drawn, and a dim lamp lit the corner of the room.
Sam was beginning to feel dizzy from the blood loss. He leaned down and pressed a hand to the threadbare carpet. The room spun a little.
Lucifer took a step forward and looked at him quizzically, as if he was not really sure what he was meant to say. "You're in pain."
Sam tosses him a bitch face. "Yes, Lucifer, I'm in pain. What gave it away?"
Lucifer kneeled down in front of him, slowly extending a hand.
Sam cringed back. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Healing you," the Devil said plainly.
"Maybe I don't want to be healed."
Lucifer sighed and folded his hands together. "I don't want you to suffer."
Sam studied the fallen angel. He looked genuine in his concern for Sam, and it unnerved Sam a little. The Devil should never look so caring.
"I don't need your help," Sam said defiantly and pushed himself up to stand. He winced in pain as the claw marks pulled. He could feel a fresh trickle of blood rolling down his side. He pressed his hand back to his side and felt the blood spill out over his hand. He wavered on his feet. He could see Lucifer out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Sam had nearly bled out enough times to know when he was about to cross the fickle line of bad and really bad, and he was about to cross that line.
Taking a shaky step, he began to walk toward the bed. Just as he reached the foot of the bed, he wavered. The room spun and he fell forward in a heap. The last thing he heard was the blood rushing in his ears and Lucifer whispering his name.