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"But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it the most?"
Sam sighed and reached across the table for his beer, rolling his eyes when he found it to be empty. He set it back down on the table and let his gaze crawl back to the glowing computer screen.
The quote was familiar, Mark Twain. He'd read it at some point in college. Back when he was happy and in love with Jess. Back before he'd ever even believed in the devil.
He wants to hate it. Wants to scoff and slam his laptop closed. How dare some impersonal quote that he'd found while aimlessly browsing the internet affect him? Mark fucking Twain had no idea what he was talking about. He'd never been the vessel to Lucifer. He'd never stared down the devil himself while he spoke to him about how they were "made for each other". He had never felt the utter despair when he realized exactly what his fate was.
Sam leaned back and closed his eyes. But even so, Twain did have a hint of truth hidden in that quote. As much as Sam would have loved to tune Lucifer out he had listened and he had understood.
They were alike, the two of them. Cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin and he wanted to hate him for it.
But he couldn't.
It wasn't his fault.
It couldn't be easy, falling from grace, wings catching flame, being constantly told that you were wrong, that you were sick and different. Running away from home before they could throw you out.
Don't get him wrong. He didn't want to sympathize with the devil, but sometimes, late at night like this, he couldn't help it.
It wasn't like he could talk to Dean about this. God knows Dean wouldn't understand. Hell, he probably hadn't even dared to notice his own similarities with Michael.
No. Dean was out with Castiel again. Sam didn't know exactly what they did when they left each night, pressing close to each other and speaking in hushed tones but he had a few guesses.
Which was fine by him, it must be nice to have a guardian angel who wanted to comfort in every way possible.
He smiled miserably as a thought occurred to him. He did have a guardian angel in his way, just one who also happened to be the devil.
Just his luck.
He glanced back at the computer screen again "who has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it the most?" and sighed, his head lulling back, he should have gone on a beer run earlier. Either that or he should have stopped a few beers ago.
He let his eyes fall shut, images flickering through his mind before he could put a stop to them.
Lucifer. All Lucifer. In that blond vessel, a man, Nick, Sam remember. He liked the look on Nick, tall and broad and weathered looking. As if he had been through the ringer even before Lucifer had gotten a hold of him. And that smile, smug and confident and somehow childlike all at once.
Sam was sure that that smile was all Lucifer.
"Fucking hell." He whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to stop. There was no way that these thoughts were a good path to go down.
"Sam?"
Fucking hell.
His head shot up and he was suddenly staring up at the devil himself.
Lucifer was standing in the center of the room, he looked just as surprised to see Sam as Sam was to see him.
"Why were you-" Then he seemed to gather himself and he cut himself off and smirked, the air chilling around him. "Oh."
"What?" Sam stood up, hands balling into fists, he was still rather shaky on his feet. yeah, he definitely should have cut back on the beers. "How are you here? I'm still hidden from you."
A little blunt perhaps but he had the feeling that Lucifer liked to talk in circles around things and he was not in the mood for that tonight.
The devil grinned "You prayed to me." He said softly, pacing slowly towards Sam. His steps were careful, steady, like a lion stalking a gazelle.
"Um, no." Sam argued, holding his hands up "That wasn't a prayer. A prayer has an amen at the end of it." he said, talking a step back with each step forward that Lucifer takes.
He stops when his back hits the wall and his hands are at his pockets immediately, patting for a knife, a hex bag, anything that will make him feel as if he has some sort of protection against the man who was currently only a foot away from him.
Lucifer stops as well, and he tilts his head to watch Sam search through his empty pockets.
"I will never hurt you, Sam." He says softly.
"Yeah right." Sam muttered, giving up on his pockets and meeting his gaze. "Spare me from that "We were made for each other" speech will you? I hated it the first time I heard it."
Lucifer was just staring at him sadly. There was something so quiet about him, so contained. It certainly had not been what Sam would have assumed the devil would be like.
"So tell me" Sam said, buying for time, trying to figure out a way out of this without Lucifer somehow manipulating the word "yes" out of his mouth. "How'd you find me?"
He smiled "You prayed. Inadvertently or not, that was still a prayer, Sam."
"How the hell was that a prayer?" Sam spat, angry, pissed, furious at him now because he had just sounded so condescending just then, so like his father "Because I'd like to make sure that I never do it again."
"Longing."
It's a single word but it stops Sam cold in the way that no other string of words could.
Lucifer's smile grows and he takes another slow step forward. "Longing. It's just like a prayer. A simpler prayer perhaps, a purer form of it, but a prayer none the less." He is a few inches from Sam, a shaking hand is extended and hovering a hairs width away from his forearm. "You have no idea how long it has been since I've gotten a prayer like that, Sam."
"I'm not going to say yes to you." Sam whispers. His voice is strained, balancing a tightrope between strong and weak, about to fall.
"I know." He says, voice just as soft as his hand finally closes the distance and rests on Sam's arm. "I'm not trying to manipulate you, Sam." A bitter smile "Not this time. This time I'm just thanking you."
"You're welcome." Sam mutters grudgingly, feeling his face flush as the devil presses closer, breathes cool air onto his neck. "I don't understand this."
A laugh "Do you think that I do?" Lucifer pulls away to stare at him, he looks out of breath, shocked, his eyes are wide in his face. "This is to be my last punishment, I see that now."
Sam finally just gives in. He can't stand it, the chill on his neck, the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was going to die if he waited any longer. So he leaned in and kissed the devil.
He could feel the laugh that still rested on his lips, could feel the ice inside him and he knew now why Lucifer had said that he "burnt cold" because Sam could feel icy flames licking at his mouth.
A low, desperate groan sounded suddenly and Sam didn't know which of them it had been but he didn't care because Lucifer was actually responding. His hands had moved from his arms to his hips and he shoved him hard against the wall, thumbs pressing bruises into his stomach. Sam laughed and wrapped his own fingers through his belt loops, pulling the angel as close to him as he possibly could.
Lucifer seemed unsure what to do beyond that and so Sam took charge, opening his mouth, coaxing the devil's open as well and winding their tongues together. He felt Lucifer shudder suddenly and drag himself from him.
"Sam." His voice was wrecked, raw and Sam wanted it to drag him across hell.
"Yes?" He asked, knowing that his voice probably wasn't much better.
"You are trying to tempt me from our fate." Lucifer said slowly, carefully "Please don't. I've rebelled before and it cost me everything. I can't do it again."
Sam looked at him sadly. The vessel was already wearing so thin, Lucifer was burning through Nick and Sam could feel grace sparking at the holes in his skin.
"You know I can't say yes to you. Not in the way you want."
"I know." To his surprise Lucifer smiled. "Just keep praying, Sam. It is all we can do."
Then his hands are on Sam's face and there is a soft brush of frozen lips against his for a half second before he's gone and Sam is left alone in the hotel room. Again.
He glanced around, all that remained of Lucifer was the smell of burning ozone in the room and the red marks on Sam where his finger tips had pressed into his skin. Sam smiled slightly, 'just keep praying' he could do that.