Spare Not The Angels (taste not their sin), Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

A/Ns: This is my fic offering for the pictures2words challenge. I found the art intriguing, but finding my way into the story it told took me quite a while. Eventually though I found a way in...and it was all down hill from there.

Title: Spare Not the Angels (taste not their sin)
Fandom: Supernatural
Artist: liliaeth
Author: phantisma
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9558
Summary: Lucifer and Michael conspire against the Winchester boys, but when they get what they want, things are only just beginning…and the world may never be the same again.
Warnings: Violence, non-graphic non-con, accidental resurrection of dead characters, abuse of a house, mostly off screen psuedo-incest.
Link to Master Art Post: To be posted as soon as I have it.
Link to Master Fic Post: That would be this






"Sam."

"No." He pulled the blanket up over him, over his head, his hands shaking as he fought not to look.

Familiar voices called his name over and over, changing back and forth. Jessica's hands touched him, caressed his arm through the blanket. His mother cajoled him, soothing a hand over his hair.

"Son, I need you."

Sam froze. That was his father's voice. "No." Trembling, he sat up slowly.

His father knelt in the corner of the room, hands and feet in chains. His face was bloody and bruised, his head hanging. His stomach was torn open, claw marks from hell hounds covering his thighs and arms.

Beside him Lucifer stood, holding the chain that circled John Winchester's neck.

Sam shook his head and stood slowly.

"He took me forever to find, Sam." Lucifer said, tugging on the chain to get John to lift his head. "He escaped from the pit when you and your brother opened the gate." Lucifer petted a hand through John's hair. "Had my boys looking for him since you let me out. He owes me…sold himself to me…well, to one of my kids, but ultimately, to me. He got Dean's life, I got his eternity. Eternity doesn't end just because he escaped."

Sam shook his head again. "You let him go."

"I wish I could, Sam." Lucifer looked at him with mock sadness. "But a deal is a deal." He pulled harder on the chain as Sam took a step closer. "I'd love to stay and chat Sam, but I need to get him back downstairs. There's a rack with his name on it, and my boys are just salivating over getting their claws into him again."

Sam dove at them, but they were gone, his father's voice screaming his name.

Sam sat up, sweaty and shaking as the dream followed him into the vague half-light of not-quite morning. The dreams were getting worse. He couldn't sleep more than an hour without Lucifer getting inside his head, whispering in voices from Sam's past.

He reached out for the phone on the nightstand, staring at it for a long time before setting it aside and climbing out of bed. Dean didn't need to hear his voice, didn't need to know how much Sam needed him.

He stripped out of sweat soaked boxers and climbed into the shower, letting the water flow down his back as he closed his eyes and leaned into the wall.



The gun was heavy in his hands. In fact, his hands were heavy, his arms like lead. He moved cautiously through the empty warehouse, looking for…he wasn't sure, but it was here. He knew it.

"Dean." Castiel. Dean turned, looking for the angel, but he was nowhere to be seen. He adjusted his grip on the gun and moved through the shadows.

"Dean." That wasn't Castiel. Dean scanned the debris strewn room, his eyes finding a dark corner where a figure stood over a man on his knees. He squinted, moving closer slowly.

The kneeling man looked up, stopping Dean cold. "Dad?"

"Son, I need you."

Dean moved closer, stepping over broken machinery and glass. "Dad?" Dean asked again, blinking and expecting him to disappear.

His father knelt in the corner of the room, hands and feet in chains. His face was bloody and bruised. His stomach was torn open, claw marks from hell hounds covering his thighs and arms. Dean could feel an echo of that pain in his own body.

Beside him a man stood, holding the chain that circled John Winchester's neck.

"He took me forever to find, Dean," the man said, tugging on the chain to get John to lift his head again. "He escaped from the pit when you and your brother opened the gate." He petted a hand through John's hair. "We've been looking for him since you put Azazel down."

"Who are you?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.

"Don't you know me Dean?" The corner started to fill with white glow, emanating out from the man. "I'm Michael."

"No." Dean lifted the gun.

"That won't hurt me, Dean." The glow faded, leaving just Michael and John Winchester. "I have to take him back to hell. It's where he belongs. Eternity doesn't end just because he escaped."

Dean shook his head. "You let him go."

"I wish I could, Dean." Michael looked at him with sadness on his face. "But a deal is a deal. Your father bought your miserable life with his soul. He doesn't get a 'get out of hell free' card."

He pulled harder on the chain as Dean took a step closer. "I'd love to stay and chat Dean, but I need to get him back downstairs. You remember what it's like right? The screaming, the pain, the blood…I bet there's a few souls down there that you left behind that can't wait to get their hands on him."

"No!" Dean reached for them, but the glow returned and they vanished, his father's voice echoing back to him, screaming his name.

Dean opened his eyes, hand on the gun under his pillow, listening to the sound of traffic on the high way outside the cheap motel window and waiting. When nothing immediately happened he sat up, looking around him into the shadows and squinting at the light spilling in the one window.

"Cas?"

He half expected the angel to step out of the corner, but when nothing in the room moved, Dean rubbed at his eyes and climbed out of bed. He went to the window, eyes scanning over the parking lot, checking on the Impala, then out into the mid-morning daylight.

On the nightstand his phone rang and Dean picked it up. "Hello?"

"Dean, where are you?"

"Hello to you too Bobby." Dean groused, turning and sitting on the bed. "Somewhere in Minnesota I think."

"Well, get your ass to my place. I think I found Sam."

Dean frowned into the phone. "Where?"

"Small town north of here."

"Is he okay?"

"Seems all right." Bobby said. "If you call hiding when the world is going to hell all right."

"It was his choice Bobby." Dean said. "He wanted out."

"And you're just gonna let him?"

Dean sighed, his mind skipping back to the goodbye. It had been awkward and painful, but at the time it had seemed like a good thing. "He'll come back when he's ready."

"I can't believe you."

"Well, Bobby…I don't know what to tell you." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "He needs to deal with this and I don't need to be worried about him every time we go up against some demon."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"I don't know what it is you want me to say, Bobby."

"I want you to say that you're on your way."

"I can't. There's a demon here. Gotta deal with that."

Bobby didn't say goodbye, just muttered something about Dean's stupidity and hung up.

Dean threw the phone onto the bed. Really, it was Sam's problem. Sam was the one who made the choice. Sam was the one who said he couldn't handle it, and Dean was tired of always worrying about Sam, wondering if today would be the day he wouldn't be able to save him, if this was the time when he would finally regret not doing what his father asked of him.

When it came right down to it, Dean couldn't hold Sam responsible. Not completely. Not when Dean should have let him go in the first place.

He stood and paced the small room. What's dead should stay dead. Dean had said it enough when it was about him, but then it had been Sam and Dean hadn't cared. Even when he knew better. Even with his father's words in his head, knowing that Sam could turn, that Sam had something dark inside him, Dean had done anything and everything to get him back.

Dean had been so afraid of a life without Sam that he had done the very thing he couldn't bring himself to forgive his father for doing for him. He'd sold the only thing he had valuable enough to trade for his brother.

And on that one decision, that singular weakness that Dean had never been able to shake, the entire apocalypse now hung. It was the beginning of the end. And Dean could not blame Sam for it. Not even a little bit.

It had been all Dean.


"Dean."

He looked up, away from the blood that covered him, blinking and stumbling back, away from the horrific sight on the rack in front of him. The woman is ripped to shreds, her stomach laying over the side, her chest cracked open…and still her eyes found him, stared at him, accusing.

"No." His hand dropped the knife and wiped down his leg like he could remove the stain.

He turned away, running into the chest of a demon. He stumbled backward again, shaking his head, falling onto the now empty rack. "You…you're dead."

He nodded, moving slowly toward Dean. "Yes, I am. Your brother killed me…just one more step on the evolutionary ladder for him."

Dean looked around him frantically for escape, but he knew there was none. This was hell. No one escaped.

"He'll end up here, Dean. Just like you. Just like your father."

"Dean…" The voice was cracked and broken, scratching out of a mouth that was torn and bloody. Dean froze against the metal of the rack under him, staring at his father all laid out on the one next to him. "Son…make it stop…"

"No. No."

Alistair moved in, a curved blade in his hand. "You remember how this goes, don't you Dean? Can you scream for me?"

"Dean, make it stop." His father's eyes pleaded with him as Alistair began cutting.

"How?" Dean asked in the quiet following the first jagged cut down his stomach.

"Michael." His father's bloody hand reached out for him. "Do what must be done."


The phone fell off the nightstand as Dean jerked awake. He reached for it and opened it blindly. "What?"

"Where are you?"

"Castiel?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

Dean rubbed at his face. "Minnesota. Some hotel off the 94, north of Alexandria. Why?"

"I need to see you."




The bed shifted and a soft hand slid up over his hip, across his stomach. Sam rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. Jessica leaned over him, kissing him softly. "Hey, Baby. I missed you."

Sam shook his head. "Jessica…I'm dreaming." He sighed and tried to wake up, but she felt so real touching him.

" Or you're not. What's the difference? I'm here."

Her hands rubbing over his chest felt so good, and it was so easy to just let go, just give in. "I miss you so much, Jess." Sam whispered.

She lay over him, kissing his chest, his chin, and finally his mouth. "I know. I miss you too." She straddled over him, her hands caressing over his skin. "What are you doing, Sam?"

"What?" Sam frowned up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Running away. Haven't we been down this road before?"

Sam pushed her off of him and sat up. "No. It's different now."

She put her chin on his shoulder. "Really?"

Sam wanted to pull away, wanted to walk away and not hear her…but her touch was comforting and he craved that comfort. "Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I'm a freak."

She sighed and let go of him. "Which is all a big ball of semantics. You know that."

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Even at Stanford you knew." Sam stood, taking two steps from the bed. "You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew."

Sam closed his eyes, thinking back to that time, when things were so much easier, when he had what had sworn he always wanted, when he convinced himself he was happy.

"Maybe that's what got me killed."

Sam turned to look at her, startled by the thought. "No."

"I was dead from the moment we said hello." She slid off the bed, coming to him, one hand lifting to cup his face.

"No." Sam fought back tears, at the thought that he had killed her, that his selfish desire for something normal had brought her to this.

"Don't you get it? You can't run from yourself. Why are you running now?" Her kiss was soft, seductive, pulling Sam back to the bed, closer to surrender.

It took everything he had to stop her, to stop himself. He grabbed her hands and pushed her away. "Why are you here, Jess?"

"Would you believe I'm actually trying to protect you?"

"Protect me?" Sam exhaled. "From what?"

"You," she said emphatically, taking his hand. "Sooner or later the past is going to catch up to you like it always does. You know what happens then? People die. Baby, the people closest to you die."

"Don't worry because I won't make that mistake again." Sam pulled away and turned his back.

"Same song, different verse. Things are never gonna change with you. Ever."

Sam turned to say something, but she was gone.


The alarm next to the bed blared at him as Sam lifted a shaking hand to his face. Lucifer was relentless. "Jess." Sam whispered her name and shook his head. The dreams with her were easier…and harder at the same time. She was everything he wanted, the reminder of the man he used to be, and would never be again.

He pulled himself up out of bed and got ready for work. His phone rang as he was putting his jeans on and he reached for it, frowning. "Bobby?"

"Hey Sam."

"I…what…what's up?"

"So, I got a problem I was hoping you could help me with."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not hunting Bobby."

"So you keep telling me."

"I mean it. I'm in no shape—"

"Don't you even start that shit with me, you ungrateful son of a bitch. I'm in a goddamn wheelchair."

"Bobby—"

"No, you listen and you listen good, Sam. Your brother needs you. Hell, the world fucking needs you. So get over yourself and get down to Killeen. There's demons there that need putting down."

Bobby hung up before Sam could say another word.

Sam stared at the phone for a long time before he made himself put it down and finish getting dressed. Bobby didn't understand. He picked the phone up again, scrolling through names and stopping on Dean's.

He thumbed the button and forced himself to lift the phone to his ear, sighing in relief when it went to voicemail. "Dean…hey…um…Bobby called, something about demons in Killeen…I told him I couldn't…I was hoping maybe you could check it out…" He hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Dean would deal with it.

Sam was done with demons. No matter what his dreams kept trying to tell him.




"Dean?" Sam could see his brother through the dark haze and heated glare, though Dean didn't seem to be aware of him. Dean held a curved blade, blood dripping from it as he tilted his head.

As Sam got closer he could see that Dean was covered in blood and gore. "Dean…what…"

"Sam…"

Sam's attention diverted to the body on the table Dean stood near, the body that was shredded and twisted and broken. "Dad?"

"Sam…help me…"

"Dean, what did you do?" Sam looked back at Dean, jerking back when his brother's eyes flooded with black. "Dean?"

A hand slid up his back, gripped his neck. "I could give him to you. Hell, I could give them both to you…all you have to do is let me in."

Sam leaned into the strong hand, the comfort it offered. "Give yourself to me, Sam and I'll let your father go."

Sam shivered despite the sweat slicking his skin. "No." He whispered the word, so much of his former conviction burning away as his father's face pleaded with him.

"You will say yes to me, Sam. You will. Until then, I'll keep your father here with me, and let Dean practice cutting him open."

Sam shook his head. "This isn't real. Dean is alive."

"For now." Lucifer whispered in his ear. "But soon, when Michael finds him, he'll be dead if he doesn't give in first. And then? He'll be here, with me. Forever"

Sam stumbled forward. "No, we won't…neither of us will ever give you what you want."

"Oh, one of you will, Sam. My money's on you. You first, then Dean. And then? Then Michael and I will be reunited and the world will tremble."

"Reunited?"

Lucifer grinned at him. "Brothers, remember? We were a pair. Just like you and Dean. The last time we both walked the earth it was glorious. Fighting. Fucking. Flames and torment."

"Sam…" His father's bloody hand grabbed Sam's arm. "Sam, make it stop. Make it stop."

Sam shook his head and pulled away. He covered his head and ran until he fell into darkness.


Sam jerked awake and looked around him. The bus was still moving and the other passengers all seemed to be sleeping. He shifted in the seat and turned to look out the window, into dark clouds and a barren landscape.



"Well this isn't what I expected."

"Sorry, do I know you?" Dean looked up from his burger as the stranger sat down on the other side of his booth.

"We haven't been formally introduced, no. But I feel like I know you already." The man smiled and Dean could see he didn't look too good. Like he was rotting. "I'm Lucifer. Your brother and me? We've been talking. A lot lately. About you. Well, you and my brother."

He picked a french fry off Dean's plate and munched on it. "The four of us? That's gonna be epic."

Dean frowned at him. "Four?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you. My bad. Sam's my vessel." Lucifer cocked his head as Dean crossed his arms. "Oh, this? He's just…a back up plan. He'll hold me over a while, until we convince Sam he needs to just stop fighting." He gestured out the window. "On his way here now."

"You don't know where I am." Dean said defensively, getting up from the table.

"Course I do. Michael does too. He's coming for you."

"Not gonna happen, pal."

Lucifer reached out to touch him, his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Oh, it will, Dean. It will…and soon I hope. Been a while and I can't wait to touch him again…and your body? Way better than the last vessel. The sex is going to be stellar."

Dean started to walk away. "Ain't going to happen." He dropped money on the counter and headed out the front door of the diner.

Lucifer appeared in front of him, stopping him. "Right now your father is on a rack in hell. Your brother is on a bus filled with demons. By the time that bus makes Killeen, Sam will have accepted his role in this, or he will be dead. And when he dies, Dean, he'll land on the rack right next to your father. And it will be all your fault."

"Shut up." Dean clenched his fists and turned away.

"How long before he breaks?" Lucifer followed him as Dean walked. "How long before Sam's eyes go black and he picks up the blade? Not as long as it took you, I bet…he's half way there already. Bet he gets a charge out of slicing up the old man…gutting him…bet he can bring some new ideas to the table when it comes to torture."

"Shut up." Dean slammed his fist into the man's face, only for him to disappear and reappear.

"Nice. This is your vessel?" Lucifer looked to the approaching bright light with the vague shape of a man.

"He's pretty."

Michael.

Dean rubbed at his eyes.

"You aren't dreaming." Michael said. Behind him, Dean could see people gathering. No, not people. Angels.

"The answer is still no. I don't care how you found me."

"I'll give you your father." Michael said.

Dean closed his eyes as his head filled with visions of his father suffering. "Let him go be with your mother?" He could see her too now, smiling, safe.

"Or, I could just reunite them in hell." Lucifer said and Dean shook as the image of Mary Winchester changed and slammed into a rack beside his father.

"Dean!"

He looked up at the sound of Sam's voice. Sam was fighting his way off a bus, bleeding and bruised. "Sam!" Dean ran toward him, though he didn't move, held back by Lucifer as the light that was Michael went to Sam. "Let go of me!"

"Patience. Our brothers just need to have a little chat."



Sam broke free of the demon holding him and made to run to where he could see Dean, only he was stopped by a figure in white light. "Michael." Sam murmured.

"Hello Sam."

"What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"No offense, but I don't need your help. I'm just here to see my brother."

"Our brothers are having a little chat…explaining how we can make this work."

Sam swallowed and shook his head. "How can you want me to…he's…he's the devil."

"Sam, you just don't understand. He's my brother…I love him, just like you love yours. Okay, maybe not just like, because you and Dean haven't been around since the dawn of time, haven't spent millennia in the embrace of God, in each other's arms…you can't even imagine the love I have for him."

Sam tried to ease around him, but he couldn't move. "You're going to fight…people will get hurt…"

"We will fight." Michael agreed. "And what a fight it will be…after all these years caged like some rabid beast, to feel the earth beneath my feet, to touch God's wondrous creation again, to revel in the blood and sweat…the fight will be glorious…" Michael turned them to look at Dean and Lucifer. "And our sex will be even more glorious."

"You're insane." Sam said, shaking now. "Both of you."

"I have an offer for you Samuel." The light moved over him and Sam was looking into his nightmare, his father in hell, Dean holding the blade. He blinked, and his mother was there too. "The Winchesters, each lost in their own way, all consigned to this…" He let Sam listen to them scream for a moment. "Or I could give them life."

Sam could see Dean, straining, fighting to come to him. "Do you know how much he fears going back, Sam?" Michael asked. "You know how fast he'll give in to it? Just a few days and he'll be begging for the chance to pick up a knife."

"Stop." Sam said, covering his face. All that did was fill his head with images of Dean ripped up and screaming. Michael touched his hands, an odd, cool sensation. His father and his mother joined Dean on the racks in his head, both of them torn open and screaming his name.

"You can make it stop, Sam. For all of them. I'm in a generous mood. Say yes now and I'll give your mother and father another chance at life…pull them up out of hell like Castiel did your brother, set them up somewhere nice…they can watch the apocalypse from safety. Neither side will touch them."

Sam wanted to run, wanted to hear Dean tell him not to give in. Instead he only had his father's voice, begging him to do something. "Dean?"

Michael caressed over his cheek. "Dean will be with me. I'll take good care of him, Sam. I'll protect him, give him my strength. And when it's over, I'll give him to your parents to care for."



"Can you feel that?" Lucifer asked. "He's close. Michael really is good at this."

Dean had stopped fighting to break free, was simply staring at his brother and Michael. "No."

"You keep saying that word." Lucifer stroked a hand down Dean's arm. "It doesn't suit you, Dean." He settled in behind Dean, his hands circling his waist, pulling Dean back against him. "You're so tired. The guilt you carry is so heavy. How much longer can you resist? When he offers you peace, freedom from the burden you schlep around with you? Forgiveness. Grace."

Dean shook in his arms, wanting to deny he wanted or needed what Michael claimed to offer him. "You will be safe…no more getting thrown into walls by lightweight demons and ghosts. No more having to clean up after your brother, worrying every step of the way about him. He'll be with me, Dean. I'll take such care of him."

Lucifer kissed the back of his neck, gentle, sweet. "Let go."



He was too late. Castiel knew as soon as he saw them. The Winchester brothers were gone. The last vestiges of light from the possession was fading. Near the bus Sam was starting to stand. No. Lucifer. Castiel could see it in him, as he cracked his neck and inhaled deeply. Closer to the diner, Michael rose from his knees beside the body Lucifer had been borrowing.

They stared at each other for a long time and Castiel found himself unable to move. Everything they'd fought for was gone in that instant.

Michael and Lucifer charged at one another, and when they clashed, thunder rumbled. They pushed and pulled at one another, and when they kissed, Castiel could not look away, despite his disgust. He had heard the stories of course, but to watch them like this. He shivered and finally tore his eyes away as they separated.

"Let the game begin." Lucifer said, looking at Castiel and grinning before he disappeared.

Michael turned toward him and Castiel knew he should leave, but Michael had Dean's swagger, Dean's grin. "Ah, Castiel…my fallen brother."

Castiel squared his shoulders. "Michael. I see Zechariah let you out of your captivity."

"It was decided that Dean need a more…direct form of persuasion." Michael stopped, adjusted Castiel's tie and jacket in a very Dean-like way. "And now that both of the Winchester boys have given in to their fate, I find myself with a promise to keep."

Beside them on the ground, John and Mary Winchester suddenly appeared, laid out as if dead. "And with that promise, I have a job for you, little brother."

Mary opened her eyes first, gasping as she sat up. John wasn't far behind. "Keep them safe. Keep them out of the fight. You even try to stop us, and I'll remove you from existence. No heaven, no hell. No nothing."

Michael touched two fingers to Castiel's forehead and the world spun, dropping all three of them outside a cabin on a cold mountain in the middle of nowhere.

"Mary?"

"John?"

Behind them, the Winchester's embraced. "What's going on?" Mary asked.

Castiel turned from the view out over icy mountains. "You have been brought back from the dead by Michael."

"Michael?" John stood. "Who are you?"

"I am Castiel. An angel of the Lord. I…at least I was."

He sighed and looked toward the house behind them. Smoke curled up out of the chimney. "We have much time to speak of such things. Come, let us go inside."

"Wait, where are Sam and Dean?" Mary asked, her hand sliding into John's.

Castiel squared his shoulders, but did not look at them. "They are gone. In all the ways that matter."




The thing about Michael, Lucifer mused as he sat back, watching his brother, was that you could never predict how the fight would begin. He had to say, this time around, he was impressed.

He'd never expected Michael to go public. Especially not like this. He had to admit though, it was brilliant. He had half the human race scrambling to do anything and everything he said, right down to bringing him pie and coffee in bed. He had religious leaders in a tizzy trying to explain, militaries all on standby.

It was beautiful really.

"He's going to kill you, you know that." He looked away from the television where Michael's appearance at the UN was being televised to the pretty young thing whose home he was borrowing for the moment.

He raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that. We're pretty hard to kill. He hasn't killed me yet."

"You can't touch me. He told me I was special."

Lucifer snorted. "I'm sure he did, my dear. And I'm sure he meant it completely at the time." He stood, picking up the magazine on the coffee table with Dean Winchester's face staring out at him. He dropped it again in disgust. "I'm not here for you."

In fact of point, he was there for the girl's younger brother, who was annoyingly late. The girl was clearly obsessed with Michael, or at least his vessel. Lucifer gestured at the television. "You believe him? All the shit he's said?"

"Of course." She seemed indignant, even through her fear.

Lucifer smiled. "Like how his vessel is all willing and eager to serve?"

She frowned at him, stepping back when he moved closer. "Dean chose to serve, to sacrifice himself for the greater good."

"Is that what he told you?" He paused, tilting his head to the side. "I guess there is some truth to that, but I'm betting my beloved brother failed to mention how we tormented them both, Sam and Dean…how we tortured their dreams for a month, more in Sam's case, how we reminded Dean of his time in hell, how we broke them little by little until neither one of them were thinking straight and offered them a choice." He lifted a hand to her hair, smiling down at her as the soft strands slid through his fingers. "It took something a little different for each of them. I promised Dean that I would torment and torture his mother and father in the very bowels of hell for all eternity if he did not say yes."

He stepped closer and she backed up again, into the wall. "Michael, on the other hand, promised Sam that he would give his parents life if he did say yes. And here we are."

"You're lying." She spit at him. "Filthy Father of Lies."

He smirked and wiped the saliva from his face. "I've fathered a lot of messed up things in my day, but lies? Not my style. The truth is easier to remember, easier to deploy and it gets me what I want most of the time. Take for example, your brother."

Lucifer turned as the young man in question came into the room. "Hello Brandon."

"You…" The kid glanced at his sister, then back at Lucifer. "You're really him."

Lucifer smiled gently. "Yes, Brandon. I am."

"What…what are you doing here?"

"I came for you." Lucifer crossed the room. "I came to offer you a place in my army."

"Me?" The kid dropped his backpack and frowned, his pimpled face scrunching up, his scrawny shoulders shrugging. "Why me?"

"Because, Brandon, you have suffered for long enough."

"Suffered?" The girl grabbed Brandon's shoulder and tugged him away. "Have you seen his life? He's spoiled, gets anything he wants."

Brandon pulled away from her. "Fuck off, Melody."

"You are not going anywhere with him. He's Lucifer, the devil?"

Lucifer grinned and leaned into the wall to watch. "You're not my boss."

"I'm calling Dad."

Brandon's face blanched white and his eyes flashed to Lucifer's. Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't know, does she?"

Brandon shook his head.

Melody paused with her phone in her hand. "Know what?"

"The reason why your father gives your brother everything he wants." Lucifer said, watching the boy's face. "Your father has been abusing your brother for years. It started with sex, but now it's more, isn't it Brandon? The beatings afterward, the fear that people will find out. Then he buys your silence with gadgets and money."

"You lie!" she shrieked, grabbing Brandon and turning him. "Tell him to leave, Brandon."

Brandon's shoulders fell forward, his head dipping and for the briefest moment Lucifer imagined he might have been wrong about the boy. "It's true." Brandon said suddenly, his voice soft. His head came up. "Five years, Mel. Five fucking years. I prayed for it to stop. I've prayed every night since it started."

"No. Brandon. Why would you lie like this?"

"Lie? Does this look like a lie?" He lifted his shirt to reveal massive bruising along his stomach and ribs. "My ass is black and blue too. You wanna see?"

Lucifer pushed off the wall, sliding in behind Brandon, hands on his shoulders. "If you come with me, Brandon, no one will ever touch you again without your permission."

"He's a demon, Bran, don't listen to him."

"In point of fact, I'm an angel, my dear." Lucifer corrected, laying a hand over the bruised skin. When he pulled his hand away the bruising was gone. "Let me answer those prayers, Brandon. Let me show you freedom."

Lucifer knew he had him. He stepped away, holding out one hand to the boy. "Goodbye Mel." Brandon's hand slipped into his and Lucifer led him to the door.


"That's kinda going about it the long way, don't you think?" Lucifer grinned and pulled the boy close. "One measly, pimply faced teenager at a time?"

"I'll admit, it does lack the panache of an address to the UN." Lucifer said as Michael stepped out of the shadows.

Michael grinned and held out his arms. "What can I say, brother? The people love me."

Lucifer snorted. "They love the image you give them of you. They don't love you. Not the way I do."

"No, they never will either." Michael agreed. "Pity really, imagine the orgy."

"I don't have to. You forget, I'm not limited by my image. Everyone knows I'm a horny bastard." Behind him, Brandon was fidgeting and nervous. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have recruiting to do, and I'm afraid I don't have time"

"You should know, I have all of Europe and parts of Africa." Michael said as Lucifer drew the boy close.

"Or you think you do." Lucifer responded, disappearing with a pop, and bringing the boy with him.




He was horny. Every time he and Lucifer sparred it got worse, and more than that, the sport he could get from the very willing, very eager women of the world lining up to go for a ride was barely keeping the edge off the urge.

He was riding a fine line, playing the role of heaven's avenger, with the bulk of heaven's host playing along, though only a few of them knew the truth. That handful were the ones who had released him, set him loose from the cage that had held him for nearly as long as Lucifer's had held him.

Michael left the girl incoherent and used and twisted the world to step out her door and into the camp where Zachariah was overseeing the recruitment and integration of armies, still burning with need. Zachariah barely acknowledged him as he dropped into a chair.

"Are we close?" Michael asked.

"We're losing India and most of South America." Zachariah responded. "Demon possession is through the roof in Japan, and most of the western United States. Lucifer's ranks are swelling."

"Come on, it can't be that bad. The response to going public has been good. People love me."

Zachariah stood. "Some of them. But he's recruiting volunteers, Michael. We're working with conscripts."

"We still out number him."

"Not for long if this keeps up."

"Aren't you just a cup of sunshine today?" Michael stood and paced. "This is taking too long."

"You just stick to the plan, Michael." Zachariah said, raising a finger. "None of that crap like before."

He bristled and turned to the other angel. "Who do you think you are?" He let some of his true nature show through the meat he wore, rattling the building. "I could strike you dead where you stand."

"But you won't." Zachariah came around the desk, his eyes hard. "I am the one who released you from your captivity and I hold the keys to returning you to it."

Michael stared at him for all of a minute before he made the decision, his hand striking out and grabbing him by the throat. In seconds, light poured out of every pore of the meatsuit he wore and seconds later all that was left of Zachariah was a pile of ash on the floor.

"Not anymore."

Michael stepped over the ash as Raphael came into the room. "Where are you going?"

"I need something more resilient to fuck." Michael responded.

"You promised you'd stay away from Lucifer until the battle."

"Oh, I didn't mean him, brother." Michael said with a smile. "There's another fallen angel I had in mind."





Night was falling. As he did every night, Castiel stood outside the small cabin, his face turned toward the sky, listening, watching.

Months had passed without sign or signal from the world outside this mountain. At night he stood guard, watching. By day he walked with John Winchester, speaking of his sons and looking for a way off the mountain.

But Michael had ensured that they would not leave. Nor would they go hungry or cold. The pantry in the small kitchen was always stocked and there was wood stacked by the door perpetually.

He could hear vague whispers from his brothers, but no real news of what happened or how close the end had come. He still maintained the ability to do some things, but his connection was gone.

He had abandoned everything and in the end it was for nothing.

"You should stop blaming yourself." Mary said from behind him.

He turned as she came to stand beside him, holding a coffee mug in her hands. "I failed them."

She inhaled and shook her head. "No. As I see it, they failed on their own." He frowned at her and she sighed as she looked out over the horizon. "I know, they're my boys, and I love them. Don't get me wrong. What man wouldn't fail put in their positions, Castiel? We're mortal. We're human."

Castiel considered that carefully. "I had not thought of it that way."

"Because you aren't human." She sipped at her cup, then patted his shoulder before she headed back into the house.

"She's right, you know?"

Castiel turned, eyes sweeping over Dean's form…so familiar and yet no longer the man he had come to care for. "Michael."

There was something predatory in Michael's eyes as he came at him, and Castiel held up his hands to defend himself, though it was a fool's charade to think he could survive if Michael sought his end.

Michael's hand caught his neck, dragging him away from the house and forcing him to his knees. "I did not come to kill you, brother."

"I have done as you commanded, Michael. I stand watch."

"And you do it so very well." Michael wrenched his head back and Castiel was forced to look up at him. "I wonder if you would follow all commands so well…I mean, you did rebel."

Castiel could not fathom Michael's meaning, but when he opened his mouth to ask, Michael kissed him obscenely. "As I said, brother, I did not come here to kill you. I have a more pleasing use for you."

It wasn't until Michael slid his hand into Dean's jeans that Castiel began to understand and he pulled back. "I am not asking, Castiel." Michael growled.

The air around them was charged and Castiel's body grew heavy, difficult to maneuver. Michael released him and used both hands to slowly remove Castiel's tie. "I do appreciate a little fight most of the time, but tonight, I want to be the one dishing it out."

"Michael, you do not need to—" Michael struck him, knuckles connecting with Castiel's face with a force far beyond what a human could manage. Castiel fell back to the ground, turning and trying to crawl away.

Michael grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. The pants gave way with little resistance, but that didn't mean that Castiel didn't offer any. He stood no chance against the older, more powerful angel, yet he kicked hard, connecting with thigh muscle and lurching forward.

Behind him, Michael laughed, but the sound had no joy, only danger and pain. Castiel fought against the pull of Michael's hand still on his calf. "You'll only get hurt more if you fight me, Castiel."

"You know this is wrong." Castiel saw lights come on in the back bedroom of the house and stiffened. If Mary or John were to emerge from the house, if they were to see Michael…Michael's knee dug into the back of Castiel's leg and he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling.

"Be a good boy, and your charges will go on living without injury." Michael growled into his ear as his hands moved over Castiel's exposed ass, spreading his cheeks open.

He tried to resist without moving, without screaming. Still, Michael forced himself inside Castiel. His every thrust was brutal, his nails digging into Castiel's skin, first at his hips, and then down his back, shredding through the coat and shirt to leave his back in bloody strips.

Michael's hand fisted in his hair, yanking him back to meet his rutting.

"Castiel?"

John's voice echoed out over the mountain and Castiel shivered as Michael shoved himself in one last time, roaring as he came. "No." Castiel whispered as John appeared, looking directly at them. "No. Leave him."

Michael stood and Castiel curled in on himself, shame and pain washing over him in equal measure. John jogged toward them, stopping cold as Michael finished tucking himself in.

"Dean?" There was a waver in the man's voice Castiel had never heard.

Michael paused, suddenly very still. Castiel struggled to pull his pants back on, though they were ruined. John's eyes didn't leave Michael. Michael stared back. Only for a moment it wasn't Michael.

"Dad?" Dean's voice trembled, and as John took a step closer, Castiel watched as Michael's fury filled Dean's face again. Abruptly, Michael disappeared, leaving Castiel on the ground and John staring after him.

"That was him…" John said, then Castiel could feel him closer.

Castiel held up a hand to hold him off, but John paid no attention. "Shit, what did he do…" John stopped as it became very obvious what Michael had done.

"Michael is…" Castiel sat up slowly, letting John help him to his feet. John looked away as Castiel finished covering himself with pants that were now mostly worthless. "…certifiably insane." Castiel finished.

"But you saw him, didn't you? Dean…for just a minute."

Castiel shook his head. There was no point in giving the man hope that his son would ever return. Dean was lost the minute he let Michael in. "No, John. I saw only Michael."

They were both quiet then as John helped him off the frozen ground and supported him as they moved back toward the house. "We can't let Mary know it was Dean." John said abruptly.

Castiel looked up at him, then at the silhouette of Mary in the kitchen. He nodded. It did little good to upset her when it would change nothing. "Let's see if we can get you cleaned up."




Lucifer stalked the room in long strides. Seeing Michael always left him wound up. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Lucifer turned to the gold eyes of his second in command. "Watch yourself, or I'll wear a hole in you."

Eurynomous held up both hands, a diminutive gesture on the body he wore. "How am I to take you seriously dressed like that?" Lucifer asked, turning his back.

"Oh come on, this rig is hot. Making men fight has never been so easy."

Lucifer stared out the window. "This is taking too long. Michael is gaining ground on us."

"It only seems that way because he has gone public, our numbers are swelling. Skirmishes between sides have all gone our way. Hell, that little pimple faced kid you recruited last week brought down an angel yesterday."

Lucifer spun. "Who?"

Eurynomous shrugged. "I wasn't there. I don't know."

"Find out," he growled, though even he wasn't sure why it bothered him. He prowled the confines of the building that they had taken over, the need to move driving him. It had been too long stuffed in that inadequate body, too long caged, too long since he and Michael had fought one on one to exhaustion, too long since they had fucked one another into oblivion.

He went looking for a willing body to work out the growing tension in the one he wore. He had plenty of willing volunteers, dirty little humans with the stamina of a gnat and the imagination of a flea. The demons were marginally better, at least they could keep up, for a while…but none of them could sate him. None of them could take him to the brink of his endurance and satisfy the hunger inside him.

Lucifer headed up to the roof, listening to the murmurs of his brothers on the wind. He caught the vague impression of Michael, the smell of sex. His nostrils flared and he traced the trail back.

The mountain was well placed, approachable only by air, or angels.

Lucifer smiled to himself. Normally he didn't like sloppy seconds…but he wouldn't want Michael to get a taste of anything he didn't corrupt too.



Castiel felt him coming with the twilight. Days had passed since Michael's visit and he had recovered physically, though he felt oddly shaky and uncertain of himself in the face of the simplest of things, strangely human and it unsettled him.

He stood from the table in the small kitchen and went to the door. It was not Michael. Not this time. He had wondered how long it would take Lucifer to follow.

Mary's hand stopped him at the door. "Don't go out there." She looked at him with eyes filled with concern.

"If I do not go out, he will come in." Castiel reasoned. He covered her hand with his own. "I will be fine, Mary. Do not worry."

He opened the door and stepped out into the fading light. Lucifer waited, leaning against a tree not far from the place where Michael had taken him. Castiel adjusted the borrowed and unfamiliar clothing and walked across the open space.

Mary was still behind him, in the doorway, watching. Castiel wished she would go inside. He did not want her to see Lucifer, or what might happen.

He stopped where his own body blocked Mary's view and waited.

"Hello, brother." Lucifer said softly, smiling. "I see Michael has been here."

"I was set here to protect the Winchesters." Castiel said, squaring his shoulders.

"I didn't come here for them." Lucifer responded, but he tilted his head, looking around Castiel toward the house. "Though I've always been partial to that John kid. Some serious anger working in them bones."

"I will not allow you near them." Castiel said, with more bravado than he felt.

Lucifer chuckled, Sam's face lighting up. "If I wanted them, little brother, you would not stop me."

He pushed up off the tree and Castiel was suddenly reminded how tall Sam Winchester really is…was. He swallowed and took a step back. "I do hope you're going to put up a fight." Lucifer reached out and grabbed him by the lapel. "It's been a while since I've had a good one."

Castiel put both hands on Lucifer's shoulders and gathered all of his remaining strength to shove him. He went flying into the tree, cracking the trunk. Lucifer laughed as he picked himself up. "I knew I could count on you." He charged at Castiel, slamming them both into the ground and making it quake.

He stood no better chance against Lucifer than he had Michael, and yet, Castiel fought harder, gaining enough advantage to crawl out from under and kick him in the chest. Lucifer only laughed more, coming at him again.

The rolled across the frozen ground until Castiel's back crashed into a boulder and he lost sensation in his limbs for a moment. He shook his head to clear it and found himself hauled up and pressed down against the rock.

"Please." Castiel managed, his voice cracking and sounding far more human than he was used to.

"Sam?"

Mary's voice, tentative on the chill of the air brought Lucifer to a stop before he'd gone much further, his hand firm in the middle of Castiel's back, holding him down.

The hand trailed away, and Lucifer stumbled closer to Mary. "No." Castiel pushed himself up, but couldn't move more than that, Lucifer's will holding him in place.

"Mary…Mom…"

Mary stepped closer, tears in her eyes as her hand lifted to cup his face. "My beautiful boy…what have you done…?"

He shivered, his shoulders slumping a little as he let her touch him, comfort him.

The air cracked and Lucifer whipped around as Michael descended and with a roar, Lucifer abandoned all pretense, releasing Castiel and launched himself at Michael. They grappled and Mary came to help Castiel stand.

John joined them, wrapping his arms around Mary as Michael and Lucifer grappled, clothes ripping and the ground shaking. "He was Sam." Mary said softly to John. "I saw it in his eyes."

"No, they are the most powerful of the angels, Mary." Castiel answered softly. "Nothing of the vessel will remain."

"They're going to kill each other." John murmured, watching as Michael sent Lucifer flying into the house, breaking the wall.

"Perhaps." Castiel agreed. In fact, that was probably the best answer for the world at large, if the two of them did manage to kill each other. Michael stalked toward the house, throwing aside debris as he entered through the hole Lucifer had made. "We should move away, into the trees. For the cover."

"I'm not leaving them." Mary said, pulling away and taking a step closer to the house.

"You can not save them." Castiel said.

"We can try." John countered.

"You will only succeed in dying again." Castiel reached for them, ready to force them if he had to. "Only one thing in all the world can stop them now, and he has not been responsive to our attempts to find him."

John snorted and shook his head. "If I sat on my ass and waited for him…" He shook his head again. "No, Castiel. I'm not waiting on your god." He took Mary's hand and they both stepped forward.

"Please." Castiel reached for them, grasping desperately for them, but they were gone, charging at the house hand in hand.



The air smelled like sex, and instinctively, he and Mary separated as they entered the house, circling toward the sounds of broken furniture shifting. They both came into the living room from opposite sides at the same time.

Mary was closest to Sam, who seemed dazed, his nose and mouth bleeding. Dean was nearer to him, trying to stand on the shifting remnants of a chair, a long gash across his back and under his arm.

Now that they were here, he didn't begin to know what to do. He looked to Mary who lifted her eyes from Sam and nodded slowly.

"Sam." Mary said the name softly, and Sam turned. They stared at each other for a minute, then Mary was wrapping her arms around him, locking her hands together.

John swallowed and touched Dean's shoulder. He spun, anger and murder in his eyes. John grabbed him and held him. Mary started the words, a simple exorcism that they both knew would do no good. John followed, the words flowing easily from his lips. Michael laughed at him, even as John shoved and walked him toward where Mary was doing the same with Lucifer.

Mary's words shifted. "My life for his." Her eyes skipped to John's in apology and her mouth kept moving, repeating the words…the Latin impeccable, the pain unmistakable. John followed, word for word until he finally pushed Dean's back up against Sam's, John's hands finding Mary's and they linked, holding Sam and Dean between them. "My life for his. Our lives for theirs."

Dean's body started to shake and it was getting very hard to hold Mary's hands. Then the building began to rock and the roof tore away and bright white light surrounded them, filled them.

Michael and Lucifer both screamed, then there was silence. Darkness. Nothingness.



"Sam?"

"Dean?"

Everything hurt, like he'd been slammed into concrete. It was cold, and despite the darkness and the hurting he could tell he was mostly naked. He felt his brother's hand, questing to find him.

Dean took Sam's hand, held it, used it to pull Sam up from the floor. Slowly the room…or what used to be a room, came into focus, still dark, but not so absolutely dark.

"What…"

Dean shook his head. "Not sure. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was coming to find you." Sam said. "There were demons on the bus."

A soft moan had them both turning, ready to defend themselves. Blonde hair and soft skin moved, sitting up, a small hand lifting to rub at an all too familiar face. "Mom?" Dean's heart stopped and he couldn't breathe.

Sam grabbed him and pulled his attention away from their mother to point with a shaking hand. "Dad?"

The remaining walls of the building fell away and the sound of wings brought them both up short. "Cas?"

The angel was glowing, his face filled with wonder and rapture and bliss like Dean had only ever seen after sex.

"Is someone going to tell us what in the hell is going on here?" Dean asked as John and Mary Winchester stood.

"Your mother and father gave themselves to save you." Castiel said, leveling that unnerving angel stare at each of them in turn. "Again."

"Save us?" Sam asked, grabbing at pieces of furniture to cover the fact that his pants were nearly non-existant.

"From Michael and Lucifer." John said, his voice gravelly and rough.

Dean frown at him. "And you…you're real…you and Mom…"

Mary smiled and came to him, caressing his cheek. "I'm real too, Dean."

"So…this is the apocalypse?" Sam asked, looking around them. "One destroyed house and our parents back from the dead?"

Castiel nodded. "This time."

"And Michael? Lucifer?" Dean asked.

"Returned to confinement." Castiel responded. "I have been welcomed home. I must go now."

John caught Castiel's arm as he turned to leave. "You just gonna leave us here like this?"

Castiel smiled, a truly disturbing smile that was like some brainwashed cult member. "Our father offers you respite and comfort in return for your service…rest a while, John Winchester. I will come for you another day."

And just like that, Castiel was gone. The house suddenly repaired, and Dean found himself dressed in familiar clothing.

"That was creepy." Sam looked uncomfortable, despite also finding himself fully dressed.

"Yeah, like Stepford-Angel." Dean agreed. "So what now?"

"Hug your mother." Mary responded. "Both of you." She opened her arms and pulled them both in to hug. After only a moment, Dean felt his father's arms too.

It felt wrong. Hell, it was wrong. He was sure it was wrong. He just wasn't sure how or why. Then John was squeezing his neck. "Let it go, Son."

There were tears in his eyes when Mary finally let go and she wiped at her own. "You boys must be starving…I'm going to go make us something to eat."

"I'll help."

Their parents disappeared into what he assumed was the kitchen. "So…weird, right?" Dean asked.

"Totally weird." Sam agreed. "All that lead up, and tormenting us…and then…nothing?"

"No, there was something." Dean responded, crossing to the window to look out. "I feel…used."

"I know what you mean." Sam rubbed his hands over his legs and stomach. "And…is it just me…but did they…we…?"

Dean looked at his brother and they both shuddered. "But…what I don't get is…why are we even here? Weren't we supposed to end up like vegetable boy?"

Sam shrugged. "Wasn't the world supposed to end and paradise begin?" Sam fell to the couch, groaning a little.

"Maybe this is paradise." Dean frowned out the window. Snow was starting to fall and the sun was starting to come up.

Sam groaned again. "I don't think paradise hurts this much."

Dean stood by the couch. "Is this real, Sam?"

Sam breathed in deep and let it out slowly. "It feels real."

Dean nodded slowly. It did feel real. For the first time since hell, everything felt very real, and if he let himself believe…this was their reward for all of it. "Mom and Dad." Dean breathed. It wasn't anything he'd ever hoped for. It wasn't natural. It wasn't normal.

It was, however, everything he could ever have wanted, if he'd only known he could.