Devil's Advocate 1/1

[mangacat201]

Title: Devil’s Advocate

Author: Mangacat(201)
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000

Disclaimer: This particular version of the Supernatural world does not belong to me and make no claim to any copyright, nor do I earn money.

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoiler for 5X22 ‘Swan Song’ and some vague (very vague) concepts of season six. Written for the hc_bingo  prompt: fall from grace.

 

Summary: While they’re waiting for their time to be right, Lucifer sits Sam down and explains to him, why being God’s favourite meant falling from the greatest height to the deepest pit. Sam learns a lesson in humility and endurance that just might help saving the world.

 

 

A/N: So, after my muse has been AWOL for a long time, I finally sat my ass down to write another one of my cryptic shorties. Thanks to Birdie for taking it her own way. And I’d also like to give credit and big thanks to the artist quickreaver, whose work inspired this piece and who graciously granted permission that I post it here alongside the story… go look at more of her works HERE, they're AWESOME.

 

Lucifer sits them down next to the fallen bodies that litter the floor of the ramshackle building in the middle of destruction, the eye of the storm. Sam fleetingly wonders why he doesn’t care more about these people, but everything has felt like it’s half an inch away from ever touching him again since that moment.

Nothing gets close to him anymore except him. His presence is something Sam can’t get rid of at all, the voice drowning on and on, always in his head, power greater than the human mind can conceive, that rattles his soul with every word, little whisps slipping loose with every agonizing second, splinters really, though they’re still small enough to make sure the rest of his soul is left to last for a long, long time. But Sam can feel it anyways, the stench of brimstone already clinging to his very existence, never to leave again. He cleaned them up with a brush of fingers and a thought, but Sam can feel the blood still speckling his self, searing into imagined his lips, his cheeks like acid. It’s laughable, really, how ordinary, how human he looks in the mirror even while the fractured glas reflects two sides of his self at the same time. Lucifer’s arrogant velvet drawl bellowing through his mind, his frantic responses more of a going through the motions, a token resistance.

 

There should be hellfire in his eyes.

 

Something to give people on the outside a clue who it actually is that walks among them. Lucifer picks the thought out of his head, their head, as easily as he settled into their skin and laughs at Sam, stooping down to dip a finger into a puddle of blood at his feet, raising his hand, watching how a single drops forms at the tip and slips back down with a minute splash.

“And what would you know exactly, about who I am?”

He looks up then, bathing their face in the bright light falling through the broken shingles in the roof. For a moment, there’s silence all around Sam, the incessant voice suddenly turns into a black hole of nothing and he knows that Lucifer’s not looking at the sky, he’s looking at Heaven, or at least the image his memory gives him. For a fleeting moment, Sam wonders what it looked like to him.

“Let’s leave the sale’s pitch for a moment and get down to some real cold hard truths, shall we, Sam?”

 

Sam can’t answer, can’t see, hear, feel anything but that bone-deep longing drenching his very being.

“Humanity, curious little experiment, I tell you, but not any more or less of a deliberate creation than anything else Father’s ever deemed necessary to bring into existence. Strange creatures, so flimsy and yet more powerful than even the most graceful of the Lord’s Host, because they hold the power of deciding their fate.”

Sam manages to claw his way out of the tide for long enough to actually snort in supposed privacy of his own mind.

“Oh, yes of course, it’s still pretty much a done deal where you end up, for some more so than others. Your angelic bloodline makes you more prone to destiny than most people I’ll give you that. But no matter what, we couldn’t have got here without you because choice is programmed into your code.”

Lucifer spits the word like it’s ripping up his throat from the inside until it’s out.

“Me? He created me jealous, vain, shining brightly above all others, the Morningstar for the very reason that your choice made my fall part of the divine plan. And even knowing that, knowing that in the very moment he ripped out my grace and cast me aside, down, deep down to hold the other end of his power, sacrificing his favourite creature for his most loved ones… I couldn’t help myself. It’s my nature, it’s the way my nature was made. Aspiring, vengeful, relentless.”

The rage and rebellion in Lucifer’s voice strike a cord inside Sam, familiarity, all the things he has felt since he came to know his fate, since he can remember life, really, multiplied by aeons of rattling the bars of a cage that had an eternal time lock.

“An exercise in futility.”

Sam doesn’t realize he has spoken until Lucifer stretches their lips into a paperthin smirk.

 

“And so it goes on, the divine plan and I go along with it even when I’m fighting to destroy it all the way long, just like I fought the first time I fell. And with every step I take, I fight my destiny more in the way that brings me closer to my fate. Only this time, he’s seen fit to grace me with a human soul, burning the brightest of all, the one thing capable of choice. What do you make of that, Sam?”

It takes Sam a moment to make anything of it, a heartbeat stretched into infinity when he wonders what exactly Lucifer is giving him here, what kind of scheme he’s playing.

Until it hits home that there is no game at all, just what’s right in front of him.

His choice.

“That’s right, Sammy, now you better go sleep the rest of the way, can’t have you interfering with the prize fight, now that we’ve put my cackling recount of my evil plan behind us like the proper procedure demands.”

Sam fights the smothering hold that suddenly seizes his whole awareness, but he has no purchase against Lucifer. He’s dragged under kicking and screaming, but unable to hold out for more than a second or two. The time is right now, and Lucifer’s done waiting.

“Not good enough, Sammy, better luck next time.”

 

There’s a kindling now though that will only need a spark to ignite, like a ray of light glinting off a smooth dark surface, and it’s hidden in the fiery blaze of the devil’s eyes.

 

End