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Sam had been acting weird ever since they’d gotten him out of the cage. His Wall was still holding, but Castiel had been confused when he saw that Sam’s soul was nowhere near as butchered as it was expected to be. In fact, Sam’s soul was brighter and better than Dean’s, and the man had only spent forty years in Hell as opposed to Sam’s one-hundred-and-fifty years in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. Sam had been quieter, more intense and infinitely sadder. Dean was worried whenever Stairway To Heaven would come onto the radio and Sam’s eyes would fill with tears although the hunter would insist that he had no idea why he was crying or felt so emotional. He said that he would often dream at night of warmth engulfing him, protecting him from something horrible, something that he would get hot flashes of, something so terrible he’d wake up screaming. Death had never said anything after he returned Sam’s soul, but he’d given Dean a sort of pitying and disappointed look that the older hunter couldn’t quite place.
It had been just over seven months since Sam had gotten his soul back, and the Winchesters were relaxing in a motel room in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Kansas. Dean had stretched out on the bed with a beer and a marathon of Dr. Sexy, MD; Sam was on the other bed, reading a book in Latin that he borrowed from Bobby. It seemed like a perfectly normal afternoon, but the silence was broken by the sound of ruffling wings, and Castiel literally crash-landed into the room, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, his hands laced in dark red.
“Whoa, Cas what happened?” Dean asked, flying off the bed, his leaking beer forgotten, as he crouched down next to the injured angel.
“I have lost the war against Raphael. I got away just in time, but he’s reopening the Cage. Michael and Lucifer will be freed, and the Apocalypse will start again,” Castiel said, horror lacing his words. Sam and Dean sent each other a look, their jaws tightening at the same time.
“Wouldn’t Raphael have to break the Seals again?” Sam asked.
“The Seals were never reset, but there were still enough to keep Lucifer and Michael inside once you threw them back. The Seals went… dormant, you could say. All Raphael has to do is reactivate them and…” Castiel trailed off, letting the Winchesters come to their own conclusion.
“D’you know where they’ll come out?” Dean asked.
“The same place they went in,” Castiel replied. Sam’s lips thinned and his teeth ground together. “Stull Cemetery.” The next ten minutes was a rush to pack everything back into duffel bags and get them into the trunk of the Impala, and Castiel somberly handed them both an angel blade that he had inside his trenchcoat pocket.
“These belonged to Ithuriel and Ariel, two of my best generals who were murdered by Raphael. Treat them with care,” he said. Sam took Ithuriel’s blade with a tight smile and could almost feel something thrumming through the blade of a dead angel… like an imprint. He remembered that Castiel had told them that an angel’s blade was a physical manifestation of their Grace, like their wings, except it wouldn’t burn out their eyes. Unless they were stabbed in the eyes, Sam assumed. The drive to Stull Cemetery was tense, broken only with Dean’s Metallica cassette on repeat, so known to Sam now that he could notice where the tapes were thinning and wearing out. The last hour had seemed almost like a dream, Sam thought. Nothing seemed real and he still hadn’t fully processed that the Apocalypse, that Sam had sacrificed himself and his immortal soul for, was starting again. It all happened for nothing. He’d sacrificed himself for nothing. Sam wondered what would happen when the Devil escaped and came back onto the Earth, would he immediately be his vessel again? Would he not even have any time to say goodbye to Dean before he was suddenly locked in his mind and body, the icy cold rush of the Devil inhabiting his body? Sam wasn’t sure, but he hoped to God – however nonexistent – that Lucifer would need permission again. Sam wouldn’t say yes. Not again. He wouldn’t put Dean through that.
“Cas, you do realize that an angel blade won’t kill an archangel, right?” Sam inquired to their trenchcoated angel in the back seat. Castiel sent him a look that could have been classed as sarcastic if the angel ever got the hang of such emotions.
“I am aware, Sam. That is why I have Gabriel’s blade,” Castiel said. “Ithuriel and Ariel’s blades are for the members of the garrison who have sided with Raphael who will undoubtedly be present at Stull Cemetery to prevent you from stopping them again,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“Great, more dicks with wings,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“Will Lucifer need my permission again?” Dean’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and Sam knew that he was probably thinking something along the same lines. Castiel didn’t reply, and Sam turned around to look at the angel in the back seat, and his heart sunk at the somber look on Castiel’s face.
“When you agree to be an angel’s vessel, Sam, it is forever. He cannot be denied entry,” Castiel said.
“So then why the Hell is Sam coming with us? We should keep him as far away from here as possible so Lucifer can’t get all up in him!” Dean yelled adamantly.
“…No, I get it Dean,” Sam said, the realization slowly but surely coming to him. “If the Devil can just pop out and come straight to me, it’s better that I’m with you. It’ll give you a better chance of killing him once he’s in me,” Sam said. Dean slammed his foot on the brake and the Impala slid to a stop.
“No, no, no, fuck no Sammy. I did not get you back again only to be forced to kill you,” Dean said, looking desperately to his brother. “You can’t make me do that.” Sam sent him a look back that spoke everything he couldn’t say.
“I don’t want it to be anyone else but you, Dean. As soon as Lucifer’s out and you know that I’m not me anymore, I want you get me straight through the heart with Gabriel’s blade, and you can’t hesitate – I won’t let you die by my hand,” Sam said sternly.
“And I won’t let you die by my hand!” Dean yelled back.
“He’s right, Dean,” Castiel said quietly. “Otherwise everything you fought for would be for nothing. Michael and Lucifer would have their fight and destroy the world in the process. Sam’s sacrifice would be meaningless,” he said. Dean clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles where white and bloodless.
“Dean, please,” Sam begged. Dean looked to Sam and the Winchesters both had tears in their eyes although they would never mention it in a million years. Finally Dean’s face fell and defeat caused his eyes to go flat and emotionless.
“Fine, Sam. I’ll do it,” he said, and Sam could hear the unsaid but I’ll be following you straight away, and grabbed Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean. You are going to kill Lucifer, and then you are going to stay alive for the rest of your natural life. You’re going to die at a ripe old age because there is no way you are dying before you’ve properly lived your life, and then we’ll figure something out,” Sam said adamantly.
“What d’you mean, figure something out?” Dean asked.
“Well… you’re going to Heaven. You know that, because you’re the Righteous Man. However I think we both know where I’m going,” Sam said awkwardly.
“You will be given admission to Heaven,” Castiel said immediately from the back.
“What?”
“Sam Winchester, if you are indeed killed today, your soul will be sent to Heaven. You will have sacrificed yourself twice for this planet and it’s people, and it has guaranteed you safe passage to the gates of Heaven where no angel will be able to enter without permission. You and Dean will be together with your parents in Heaven,” Cas said with a smile. Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but when he looked back at Dean, he found his brother giving him the biggest smile he’d seen in years, and a single tear track down his cheek. With renewed strength, Dean kicked the Impala into gear and they hauled ass to Stull Cemetery, clenching their angel blades in hand.
The cemetery was surrounded by angels all in black-and-white suits, and in the middle stood Raphael. Or Sam assumed that she was Raphael, last time he’d been a male. They were granted entrance to the cemetery and pulled up right beside the Archangel, who was looking at them pensively. The Winchesters hid the angel blades in their jackets and got out of the Impala, followed by a cautious Castiel.
“Castiel, I see that you are still alive and rebellious as ever,” Raphael said with narrowed eyes. “Will you never learn?”
“I would rather die on the side of humanity than live on the side of the Host,” Castiel said with so much conviction it nearly knocked Sam away. Castiel was surrounded by at least one hundred angels and yet he was so fearless and strong in his beliefs… Sam realized that they’d never truly appreciated Castiel’s bravery until now.
“Surely you must see that starting Armageddon again is wrong, Raphael. It was stopped, and therefore it must never be started again. Can’t you see that it is God’s will to not have the Apocalypse happen?” Castiel preached, his arms stretching out.
“Your arguments are feeble and untruthful, Castiel,” Raphael said adamantly. “They are nothing I haven’t heard before. It is no wonder that you fell before me on the battlefield and fled like a coward.” Raphael smirked with a little too much enthusiasm for Sam’s liking. Dean shifted angrily in Sam’s peripheral vision, fists clenching together. “You think you can stop this? There are over one hundred of us and only three of you. Your side has fallen Castiel; they have repented and joined with me. You cannot fight off the entire Host.”
“I did once before,” Castiel said nonchalantly.
“Because that’s just how you roll,” Dean said with a smirk. “We’ll kill every single one of you and die if it means that your douchebag brothers stay where they are,” Dean growled. Raphael took an angry step towards him and then visibly calmed herself, and then smiled tightly.
“You won’t have any time,” Raphael said almost pityingly. Before Sam or Dean could register what happened, she had sliced her arm and was bleeding Grace and blood onto the ground where the entrance to the Cage had opened last time. She chanted in Enochian, and as she did, Sam could feel a headache building and growing in his head. He was getting flashes, whispers, colors, feelings and emotions flitting through his mind so quickly he couldn’t identify them, but it was dizzying and didn’t even realize that he’d fallen until he felt Dean’s arms around him.
“Sam? Sammy!” Dean yelled desperately.
“His Wall is breaking!” Castiel said, and then the ground split open and burst with light at the same time that Sam’s Wall shattered, and he screamed as one hundred and fifty years of memories threatened to engulf his consciousness. He blacked out, and hoped that when he woke up, it would be in Heaven, and that Dean had followed the plan.
Unfortunately, things never go according to plan, and Sam found himself wrenched out of unconsciousness not even a second later by feeling his head hit the grassy ground with a hard thump. He opened his eyes carefully as he tried to sort through his memories, and gasped as he looked before him. In a blaze of glory, so absolutely bright and shining and on fire, was Lucifer in his true form.
The memories righted themselves in Sam’s mind as he stared at the archangel, his archangel, who had spent one hundred and fifty years apologizing and loving Sam with every fibre of his Grace. Sam, who had taken Lucifer’s black and shriveled Grace and breathed life into it until it was so bright that he could be called the Morningstar again. Breathed in so much life that he outshone Michael, who had surprisingly released Adam in the Cage. Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, the Morningstar – he had so many names, and Sam knew them all, knew them when Lucifer whispered them into his skin each night in the pit. Another year and seven months Sam had spent without him, equating to nearly two hundred years in the Cage, and now Sam knew why his soul had felt so empty and broken when he’d been brought back, and why he had been filled with so much sorrow. Lucifer had withstood over one hundred years in the Cage again, and he was still as bright as he had been when Sam was pulled out by Death. He remembered everything.
Lucifer’s true form was quickly folded away into a recreation of Nick, Sam assumed it was the same way that Lucifer had looked like Nick in the Cage, and behind him stood Michael as a young John Winchester, and Adam. Sam attempted to sit up but felt sick as he did, the blood rushing too fast around his brain and he blinked rapidly to clear the spots on his vision. He opened his eyes and screamed as loud as he could when he saw the scene in front of him.
“Dean, NO!” Sam shouted, just as Dean was about to shiv the newly formed Lucifer through the chest with Gabriel’s blade. “Don’t kill him!” Dean sent him a confused look, and then looked even more confused when Lucifer didn’t try to stop him, or hurt him back, or do anything but stare at Sam with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Sam…” Lucifer mumbled, and Sam grinned.
“Hey, you,” Sam replied. He hauled himself up to his feet and staggered over to the archangel and grinned dopily. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes it has,” Lucifer replied with a familiar twinkle in his eye.
“You look great,” Sam said, looking him up and down suggestively, although Lucifer knew what Sam was really talking about.
“I could still feel you and as long as you were alive, I was fine. I had Mike and Adam anyway,” Lucifer said, and Sam didn’t even notice the bewildered look that Dean sent Cas from a few feet away. “You don’t look too good, though,” Lucifer noted.
“Not enough sleep and a Wall that could crack at any moment, it does that,” Sam said with a shrug. “Besides, I thought all of my memories from the Cage would be torture and blood and crazy archangel shit.”
“Only the crazy archangel shit,” Lucifer agreed, and Sam let out a snort.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sam huffed. The hunter then hooked a hand into Lucifer’s blond hair and pulled him in, wrapping the angel up completely in his arms as he pressed their lips together. He noted the stunned squawk that Dean let out and chuckled into Lucifer’s mouth. The angel dug his fingers into the back of Sam’s shirt like he never wanted to let go.
“Uh… what the fuck is going on?” Dean yelled, utterly bewildered and confused and sounding like he was in dire need of getting a drink.
“Basically, Lucy’s on your side. So’s Mike; and me, in case that wasn’t actually clear,” Adam said with a shrug. “There wasn’t any torturing going on when Sam was down there, unless you count the insane amount of Sunday barbeques we had,” Adam said with a shrug. Michael laughed and laid his arm around Adam’s shoulders.
“The Apocalypse has officially been called off. Lucifer has been given permission to return to Heaven, and the human race will be safe until some other religion decides to have their fun,” Michael said. Sam broke away and grinned over Lucifer’s shoulder to Michael, the second archangel that he knew so well despite the fact that he looked like his father.
“I hope it’s not the Norse, I’m not too fond of unending winters,” Sam said.
“Winter is coming,” Adam mumbled, and Sam laughed at the reference. Sam looked to Dean, who was still gripping Gabriel’s sword in a death grip and looked like he was about to faint, smash something and cry all at the same time.
“Dean, basically… nothing happened in the Cage, nothing bad at least. Luce and I got together although I still honestly have no idea how that happened, I think it might’ve been his forty-eight hour serenade of Stairway To Heaven, and then Mike and Adam got together, and basically we were living some make-believe apple pie life for a hundred and fifty years,” Sam said, keeping Lucifer in his arms. The archangel laughed at Dean’s face. “Although I’m surprised that it only took two years for me to get with the Devil, yet it’s been over three years and you and Cas are still orbiting each other like twin suns,” Sam said. Dean blanched, and Lucifer erupted into laughter.
“Raphael, call off your troops and go back to Heaven, the Apocalypse isn’t happening anytime soon. Although I must thank you for letting us out, it was getting rather boring with Lucifer’s constant whining over Sam’s absence,” Michael said to the stunned archangel. Raphael didn’t say anything but disappeared with a ruffle of feathers and an extremely confused look. The angels around the edge of Stull Cemetery also disappeared, leaving three hunters and three angels standing in the middle. Lucifer reluctantly broke away from Sam and cautiously approached Castiel, who was still bleeding from the wound in his head. Grace injuries were difficult to heal, Sam remembered. Lucifer gently touched a hand to Castiel’s forehead, and the injury disappeared along with all of the blood on his trenchcoat.
“Castiel… I’m sorry for, uh… exploding you,” Lucifer said awkwardly, a very human trait that he’d picked up from Sam. “You were only trying to help Sam and Dean, I get that now. You’re not too bad, actually, from the stories Sam told me. Thank you for being there for them,” Lucifer said compassionately. Castiel looked vaguely shocked at this revelation but nodded back.
“Then I suppose that I should apologize for using a holy-oil Molotov on you, Michael,” Castiel said, and Michael laughed.
“Forgiven, Castiel. Although you might want to come up with some better insults,” Michael said. Castiel’s lip twitched up in a sort-of smile, and Sam rolled his eyes. Lucifer then approached Dean but stayed out of a three-meter radius and frowned.
“You mind putting that down now?” he asked.
“Why should I?” Dean retorted.
“Because that could kill me,” Lucifer pointed out.
“And that’s a bad thing… why?” Dean asked.
“Because that would seriously hurt Sammy,” Lucifer said. “It’s not a trick or Stockholm Syndrome or anything, I swear on my Grace. You spend over a hundred years with someone, you learn not to hate them,” he said.
“It’s true Dean, put it down,” Sam pleaded, and with the puppy-dog eyes set as a primary weapon, Dean reluctantly lowered the blade. “I think we should probably all talk this out in-depth…” Sam said.
“Ya think? You got with the Devil, Sam, and you didn’t even tell me!” Dean yelled.
“You put up a Wall in my head! How the Hell was I supposed to remember? Jesus, Dean!” Sam retorted.
“You’re a little bitch, you know that?” Dean said.
“You’re a jerk,” Sam replied back automatically, but the Winchesters let each other smile.
“Well now that this adorable moment is over, I say that I should go to a Mr. Bobby Singer and apologize for killing him,” Lucifer said.
“Are you going to apologize to everyone you’ve killed? Because that’s gonna take a Hell of a long time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you’ve finished,” Sam teased.
“Not everyone,” Lucifer said. “Just Singer, and then I’ll hunt down the remnants of Gabriel’s Grace and get him back… I think that’ll be enough good I can do for one day. I might have to go and burn and pillage a small Scandinavian village just to make up for it,” Lucifer teased.
“Why Scandinavia?” Adam asked.
“Pagans,” was Lucifer’s answer, and then he winced. “Oh… I killed all of them too, didn’t I? Fuck,” he swore, and Sam laughed. Despite the fact that Sam was in a relationship with Satan, and Adam was in a relationship with Michael who looked like a younger version of his father, and despite the fact that Dean had no idea what was going on and Cas was devising a plan on how to best get Dean on his own, things were looking up. In some weird, fucked-up Winchester way; but when were their lives ever normal?