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A Question of Balance

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Lucifer had Sam shoved against the wall by his throat. The desire to punish him was so overwhelming that he didn't instinctively reach out to sense Michael, as he always did when they were close.

He wondered if this is what his father felt when he shoved Lucifer in this box.

He stared at Sam, whose fingers were digging pitifully into the flesh of his chosen form's arm. He let go and Sam dropped down on the ground, gasping for breath.

He knelt down and stroked Sam's hair until he had his breath under control. "I forgive you."

Sam tried to knock Lucifer's hand out of his hair. "Screw you."

Lucifer clicked his tongue. "I guess that's the first thing we'll work on."

"What are you -"

Sam's response was cut off by his own screams.

"Do you want to know how long, on average, it takes for a human soul to twist enough to become a demon?"


A scream, brief.

"There's so much I could give you, even here, if you just let me." Nothing, at all. Then, "What happened to the kid who used to read any book he could get his hands on?"



Sam was still and stiff in his arms.

"You'd be more comfortable if you relax," Lucifer said.

Sam didn't respond, no doubt, for fear of retribution. It was one of unfortunate drawbacks of their lessons that Lucifer was trying to fix.

Lucifer leaned over to whisper in his ear, "If you talk to me, I'll give you anything you want within my power."

"Clothes," Sam croaked.

Lucifer preferred him nude, but he always kept his promises. At least to Sam.

"What do you say?" Lucifer asked, sing song, as he rolled them over in order to straddle him.

Sam clenched his jaw. "If you just want to torment me, then just do it without these stupid games."

"You're bright, Sammy," Lucifer said as he pushed some hair behind an ear, "surely you can see how boring meat hooks get after awhile."

"Michael doesn't seem to think so," Sam spat and Lucifer slapped him.

"Lost your cool?" Sam asked and Lucifer bound his limbs in ice without as much as a twitch. "You don't think you could hide something like that from me, do you?"

Lucifer covered Sam's body with his own and watched his agonized face as he burned what was left of his body to ashes.

Wariness, gentleness, exhaustion. Sam's eyes cannot be made out. "If Michael had said yes what would you have done?"

"Please," Sam says.

He means it. But his voice is too soft and broken in all the wrong ways.

Lucifer heals the words he's carves into Sam's back and, for the first time since they were trapped, he allows Sam's soul to sleep without any nightmares.

He reconsiders his plans.