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The Devil's in the Memories

Chapter Text

Have you ever wanted to read one of those stories where an uncaring, rich guy is struck by a car or falls and hits his head and gets amnesia, only to be discovered by none other than his assistant, or low-level employee, or even regular hooker? And all the while he/she is nursing him back to health, and maybe falling for him too against their better judgement, he doesn't remember anything that made him the person he'd become?

Well, what if to make it a little more interesting it were a certain fallen archangel, and the 'caretaker' is none other than Sam Winchester, his true vessel?

"I told you, Dean, I need some time alone. I know you think you did the right thing about Amy, but I don't." Sam Winchester clenched his back teeth together, his jaw muscles bouncing as he listened impatiently to the voice on the other end. "I don't care why you did it, you promised me."

The tall brunet stopped on the busy sidewalk in New York, the city. He was on the corner of West 48th Street and Ninth Avenue. The smell of chicken wafted in the cool air as a door to a popular chain restaurant opened and then closed behind him. "No, I'm in Wisconsin, I'm not telling you the city. It's a small case, now I've got to go, Dean, I'm meeting an officer at a scene, and I'm late." Sam rolled his eyes, and he didn't notice as a group of teenage boys carrying skateboards pushed around him. "I'm going to stop you there, I gotta go."

Sam tapped the red end button on his phone with a sigh, the gruff tone of Dean's voice cutting off abruptly. He stuffed the phone in his front jeans pocket as he crossed the road just as a walk signal began to flash, the six-foot-four guy's view quite a few inches higher than the majority of pedestrians surrounding him in the big city.

He'd lied to Dean, but Dean had lied to him and about something much worse. The hunter's gaze darkened as he remembered what his older brother had done behind his back. When he'd lied to him afterward he hadn't even batted an eye.

"It's because he thinks you're weak."

Sam flexed his head to one side as he continued on. He wasn't in the mood for hallucinations, because that's what they were.

They weren't real. He wasn't real.

"Come on, Sam, it's just me and you now and 8.4 million New Yorkers, no need to be so prude," the hallucination of Lucifer insisted lazily as he strolled alongside him. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were looking for me... Hell's Kitchen? Hmm?"

Sam stopped abruptly, his hands balled into fists. He wouldn't talk to it, he wouldn't—

Screams and shouts and the sounds of car breaks squealing interrupted Sam's thoughts.

"What was that? Did you see it fall from the sky!?"

"Someone call 911! There's a guy, he's been hit!" was shouted, and Sam began to walk quickly towards the chaos, pushing carefully around people as he worked to get to where there was a growing crowd of onlookers.

A taxi driver was leaning on the open door of his car, a fresh cut on his left hand bleeding and going unnoticed, there was a growing line of vehicles piling up behind him. "He just fell from the sky, he just, he just fell... from the sky..." the guy was muttering as he stared at nothing, looking in shock.

Sam frowned, and he stretched his neck as he continued to edge to the front, catching a glimpse of a man lying on the road. He was dressed in expensive black dress pants and a pressed, light pink button up shirt. He had spiky, dark blond hair...

Sam stopped, standing at the front of the crowd as he looked down into a familiar face. Dread pooled in his stomach, it couldn't be, it had to be a hallucination. There was no way it was actually Lucifer.

"Did you say Lucifer? You know him, buddy?" the taxi cab driver said, suddenly with it and sounding nervous. "Hey, you know him?"

"Huh?" Sam looked up, not realizing he had moved to stand right by the devil look alike. Car horns had began to honk from the traffic congestion, and there was a siren in the far-off distance.

"Is he your friend, I'm sorry, I swear, he came out of nowhere!"

Sam blinked, and then he looked back down. The front of the taxi that had hit the guy, who wasn't Lucifer, was dented up in the front, its hood mashed in like it had ran into a huge metal pole instead of a person. Green eyes flicked back to the unconscious guy... there were no visible marks on him that he could see.

The hunter swallowed thickly, and he leaned over the guy.

"Ohhh, who's that looker?"

"Shut up," Sam muttered distractedly, not willing to entertain the fact that he was possibly hallucinating more than one Lucifer, because there were a lot of people around, and if this was somehow the real Lucifer they were all possibly in danger.

He placed his pointer and middle finger just under the guy's jawline, checking for a pulse. It was strong.

"You a doctor?"

Sam glanced up, noting the guy's voice had become more breathy. "Uh, no, I'm an FBI agent," he lied easily, used to the drill, "you should sit down, Sir, until the ambulance gets here, you look like you need the rest."

The guy nodded, eyes widening in what looked like fear. "Yes, Sir, I—you saw that though, it wasn't my fault, he fell from that building or space or something, I dunno, but it wasn't my fault."

"Just sit, please, I need to see to him. The police will talk to you about it," Sam said quietly and then he turned his attention back down to the guy. He could hear curious voices loudly saying something similar. Fell from the sky. Sam closed his eyes tightly as he decided what he should do. Sirens were growing even closer. The man on the road began to move some, groaning in an eerily familiar tone.

He sucked in a sharp breath and looped his arm underneath the guy's upper body, pulling him up slowly.

"Is that safe? I hit him going at least twenty—"

"I'm taking him over to the shade, I checked his spine, it's not broken," he lied as he carried the majority of the waking man's weight. He began to stumble along some after a few steps, which only alarmed Sam more as he picked up his pace. "Excuse us, excuse us," he said gruffly, moving through the crowd before anyone tried to stop him.

"What's going on?"

Sam felt his lungs fully evacuate at the voice as he continued to walk, pulling the guy along with him. He needed to find somewhere quick before the police found them. He needed somewhere where he could fight or somehow neutralize him... if he was in fact Lucifer. Feet began to drag somewhat, becoming more resistant. "Where're we going?"

Sam looked around to make sure no one was watching them suspiciously, and he held up a hand as he stepped up to the curb. He ignored the guy, hoping he'd stay confused. Archangels couldn't even get hurt by a car hitting them. Where had he come from, what had happened before? Sam looked up at the sky; it was perfectly clear and inconspicuous enough.

"Why does my head feel like shit?"

"A taxi hit you," Sam answered finally as a yellow taxi pulled up. He leaned down to look into the open passenger window. "13th East 9th Street?" he said, and when he received a curt nod from the heavyset driver, he pulled open the back door and pushed the guy in somewhat carelessly.

"Ahh," the sandy blond groaned, weakly pushing himself into a sitting position as Sam climbed in quickly. "What the fuck?"

The taxi driver didn't seem to care as he pulled back onto the road with a sharp jerk, drawing another groan when the possible devil bounced his temple off the glass window.


Sam watched the guy carefully out of the corner of his eye, looking for any signs that he was faking as they sped away from where police, ambulance vehicles, and fire trucks were all headed.

"Do I know you...?"

Sam glared at the chair in front of him, wishing they were already at his place. "Yeah, we're best friends," he said quietly for the sake of the driver. He had to have something that could at least temporarily stop Lucifer, especially if he was weakened, which he seemed to be.

They sat in silence after that, Sam glancing over to find the guy had fallen asleep, or passed out again, one of the two. He'd hope dead if he couldn't see his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the pale, pink dress shirt he wore. The tall hunter sat stiffly for the entire ride, ready to fight at any moment. The taxi came to an abrupt stop.

Sam swiped a fake card in the mounted credit card machine, added a tip, and then he opened the door before wrapping an arm once more around the guy's back. He grunted, pulling him out and up against him. This time though, the sandy blond didn't help by standing on his own any. He managed to push the door shut, and the taxi sped off.

"Thanks," Sam grumbled, and he shifted the supposed devil around until he could get him slung over his right shoulder, his upper body hanging over his back. The muscular hunter clenched his teeth as he made his way to the red brick building before him, ignoring curious looks directed at him. He fumbled for the key in his pocket as he stopped at a solid, greenish black door, the guy on his shoulder feeling heavier by the second. He managed to unlock the door and lock it back behind him.

Then Sam started to drop the guy on the floor right there, but he thought about it for a second. He didn't actually have anything to fight him with if he did wake up yet. He had no plan to fight Lucifer. The tall hunter walked more carefully, through the kitchen and into a furnished living room, and finally into the bedroom. He stopped in front of the king-sized bed he'd been sleeping in for the past three nights, grimacing, and then he carefully lowered the guy onto it.

"Mmm," the sandy blond groaned, brows furrowing, and the familiar guy's forehead wrinkled impressively.

Sam squared his shoulders, tensing as he watched the guy, waiting for him to suddenly regain his powers and set the place on fire or explode it.

The blond-haired man cracked open blue eyes, and he looked into Sam's wide green.

Sam stood perfectly still, waiting.

"Hey, I know you..."

Sam's mouth dropped open. It was happening. "You do...?" he asked, fighting a wave of sudden panic.

The guy smiled softly. "Yeah, you're my best friend." Then the guy's head fell back once more against the bed, blue eyes falling shut.


Sam sat on the floor, the back of his head resting against a light grey wall. The sun was setting, casting orange and reddish light into the silent bedroom through glass french doors. Outside there was a stone patio with a wrought iron table that sat two, tall concrete walls were almost completely covered in ivy, making the backyard feel like an oasis in the middle of the city.

The tall brunet had his phone in his hand, his computer open and sitting beside him abandoned. He needed to call Bobby, but he didn't want to talk to Dean, and he knew his brother was with him at the moment. The guy, who he'd thought to be Lucifer, was still out on his bed. He would've restrained him, but if it truly was the fallen archangel, he didn't have anything that would accomplish more than just agitating him, he'd checked... several times. He was questioning now—

There was movement.

Sam tensed, straightening up as he watched the body on his bed begin to waken.

Low grunts and half groans cut the silence, and then Sam watched in alarm as the man army-style crawled on his elbows until he was at the edge. He screwed one eye shut and dropped back down until his cheek was resting on the fluffy white comforter beneath. "I think there's something wrong with me..." he half mumbled into Sam's sheets.

Sam blinked a few times. "What?"

The guy lifted his right hand and twirled his pointer finger in an unhelpful circle, pointing down at himself. "Something's wrong."

"Oh." His legs weak, Sam stood up slowly, using the wall behind him for support. He had a flask of holy water in his pocket, but if it was Lucifer... he wasn't a demon. "You were hit by a taxi," he said, talking to the guy for some reason.

The guy froze at that. "A taxi...?"

"Yeah," Sam said, frowning as the sandy blond continued to lie on the bed. "It was only going about twenty so the driver was okay, his car was pretty beat up though."

Blond brows lifted. "His car was... beat up?" he asked more slowly, his expression seeming unsure.

Sam's frown grew, something wasn't right. "Are you feeling okay?"

The guy blinked a few times. "I don't know." He stared at Sam for a few long beats, his expression clouding. "Do I know you?"

Sam swallowed, his throat dry. He couldn't tell if he was being toyed with or not. He erred on the safe side. "Yeah, remember, we're friends..." He moved off the wall, forcing tense shoulders to relax.

"Best friends..." the guy said, his gaze growing distant as he took in the bedroom. "Yeah, I remember that..."

Sam took a small step forward, realization dawning on him. "What else do you remember?" he asked more seriously.

The guy shook his head slightly, brows furrowing and lips pouting almost. "Nothing, I can't remember anything else."

Sam struggled to hide his response but failed miserably. He didn't know what he should do now. He noticed the guy struggling to sit up, his face pinched in a look of pain as he began to clumsily undo the buttons of his shirt.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked, moving even closer to the bed.

"Where was I hit?" the guy asked as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves of the shirt, dropping it on the bed distractedly. Looking down at his unmarred torso, he visibly tensed.

"Your head," Sam said, and when he received the full attention of clear blue eyes, he held in a grimace. "Well, I mean, it hit your legs, and you fell and hit your head."

"My legs don't hurt," the guy said, and he began to undo his slacks.

"Hey," Sam said sharply, just stopping the guy from disrobing more on his bed. Lucifer looked at him with what seemed a mixture of curiousness and budding suspicion. "Ah, what about—how about we..."—Sam floundered miserably—"are you hungry?"

The blond's lips twitched at that. "Is there something you're trying to hide from me?"

"No." Sam felt his head shaking, and he knew he was failing at being convincing, but he wasn't sure if anyone would expect him to do much better interacting so casually with the devil. "No, I just. We were going to get dinner before your accident, and, and you were really hungry."

The blond wiggled his lower jaw as he thought over Sam's poor excuse. He shot a glance around the darkening bedroom. "Is this my place or yours?"

Sam blinked. Shit. "Neither," he said honestly, "we're just here for the week."

"We..." the blond said under his breath. He looked back to Sam, his lips toying with some emotion that Sam didn't like at all. "What's your name?"

"Sam," the tall hunter blurted, and then he caught a grimace from overtaking his features when blue eyes seemed to light up at the name.

"How many bedrooms does this place have?" the guy asked, his gaze flicking over to glass doors and focusing out on the patio as the sky continued to dim.

Sam frowned, confused. "Just this one."

Blue eyes shot back over, piercing, the skin around them crinkling for some reason, and Sam felt himself shift back onto his heels. "We're not actually best friends, now are we, Sam?" he asked slowly, sounding disconcertingly like the devil Sam knew too well.

Sam fumbled. "Yeah—of course we are, what do you mean?"

The blond smiled then, and Sam felt his mind go blank. "You know. I am hungry."

Sam let out a huge breath of relief. He'd figure out what to do later. He just needed to make it through the moment and keep the devil close by so he didn't hurt anyone. And then, he'd figure out how to kill him or lock him back up, or whatever. Maybe he would call Bobby and Dean. "Great, what do you want?" he forced out.

The blond's smile grew. "I don't know, what do I like, best buddy?"

Sam breathed a disbelieving laugh. This was weird. Really weird. "Salad," he said, and when blond brows began to furrow he added, "Trust me, it's your favorite."

"Okay," Lucifer said, and he looked down at his discarded top. "Quick question, why didn't you take me to the hospital, if I was hit by a car?"

Sam hummed internally. "Because you hate doctors," he said with a shrug of broad shoulders.

The man nodded slightly at that. "I thought maybe I was a criminal..." Focused blue eyes flicked over to study wide green.

"Nope," Sam said, pressing his lips together and shaking his head, adamant. He needed to figure out something soon. "No, you're not."

"Pity," the blond said, and when Sam's chin dropped he let out a soft chuckle. "So nervous," he observed curiously.

Sam scowled. "I'm not, I've just been really worried about you," he lied.

The blond sucked on his upper teeth for a long moment, and then he reached out, shaking out his pink shirt. "Well lucky for you, Sam, I'm already on the mend."

Sam gave a tight smile, and he received a wink in response that made his entire body want to dissolve in a state of unhelpful panic. "So, food," he said a little too loudly, clapping his hands out in front of him, "you up for some delivery?"

Lucifer smiled somewhat at that. "Yeah, just order me the usual."

"Right," Sam said. "I'll do that."