Work Header


Work Text:

“Sammy,” Lucifer says from a chair in the basement. “I know you can hear me. I know you can see me, too.”

“You’re not real,” Sam mutters. “Go away!” he shouts.

He can’t even be alone for a second without seeing the devil. He can’t even grab some tools for a second without having him creep in to take over again. Sam is tired—so tired—of all of this, he’s dangerously close to just letting him win.

“I’m as real as your snarky brother,” Lucifer whispers in his ear. “I’m as real as your precious angel was.”

Sam closes his eyes, praying to God for the visions to stop.

“God’s not around, Sam,” his lips ghost past Sam’s ear, and he jumps back. Lucifer laughs, reaching forward. “We’ve done a lot more than that silly.”

He grabs the hammer he came down for and heads up the stairs, but Lucifer appears in front of him. “And you know what?” Sam nearly misses the stair when he takes a step back. “I think you enjoyed it.”

“Shut up!” he swings the hammer full force, smashing through the bannister.

Lucifer is behind him now, snaking his hands down the back of his jeans. “I’ll be gentle this time, I promise.”

Sam runs up the rest of the stairs, hands Bobby the hammer and locks himself in the spare room. If he can’t do anything else, can’t find a way to be useful, he’ll just have to sleep it off.

His attempts to stop the hallucinations are mostly futile. The thing that makes matters even worse is the fact that he wakes up every morning with Lucifer in his bedroom, smug as hell—no pun intended—staring down at the erection in Sam’s pants.

Sam tries to tell himself he’s just imagining it, that it’s not real, just as Lucifer isn’t, but when his fingers even accidentally brush against it, he cries out at the top of his lungs. And on more than one occasion, that ended with Dean or Bobby breaking down his door, only to rush out soon after.

The hallucinations were one thing, but that his body kept reacting to something as despicable and evil as the Devil made his stomach turn.

“Why are you fighting me, Sam,” Lucifer breathes into his ear. “We both know how much fun we had in Hell.”

He begins to memorize bible passages, reciting them when it becomes too hard to deal with the memories, on top of Castiel being gone. Dean is trying to help, but because he can’t see, there’s not much he can do.

“Sammy,” Lucifer says from Sam’s bed, his legs crossed. “Which is it today?”

“…Surely he will save you
   from the fowler’s snare
   and from the deadly pestilence.
  He will cover you with his feathers,
   and under his wings you will find refuge;
   his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart…"

Lucifer nods knowingly, “One of my favourites.” He wiggles his hips on the bed. “Doesn’t it remind you of that sexy angel you had around?” He lifts his hips, pretending to hump the air. “You need to get a piece of that.”

“Castiel is dead!” Sam spits.

As soon as the words hit the air, Lucifer is out of sight. Sam is used to Dean and Bobby not rushing up to check on him every time he has a tantrum or fit, but hearing the words himself is shocking. He half expects Dean to pretend to be passing by and glance in the room, but he doesn’t.

The next morning he wakes up limp in his jogging pants, with no Lucifer around taunting him. Sam cries himself to sleep that night, trying to recite the same passage he did the day before, but all it does is make him cry harder.

Was Castiel the cause for all the visions and memories? Was he not coping with the loss?

After a few weeks, Sam realizes the hallucinations have stopped for good, but Sam almost wishes they’d come back to drown out the sorrow that has replaced them.