Chapter Text
There’s a knife in Sam’s hand.
He knew this. He was sure of this. The knife felt so real; its metal was even warm from being held next to his own body.
However, so was Lucifer.
“You can go a little deeper,” Lucifer tells Sam, crouching down next to him, and leaning so their arms touch. “It’ll be easy. Probably won’t even hurt. Right?”
Sam doesn’t respond, but he does make sure he doesn’t go any deeper when he slashes the knife into his arm, a steady stream of blood coming out and pinging inside the bronze bowl he brought.
“What are you gonna do, when this doesn’t work?” Lucifer asks, running his pointer finger along the rim of the bowl. “I mean, when you open it up, and you find, well…”
“Either you’re dead, or I am.” Sam replies wearily, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. He’s been awake for a little over a week now. He doesn’t know how he’s managed to live this long, let alone live long enough to do this research, to do this spell.
“Or both.”
“Or both.” Sam agrees, covering the slice in his arm with a bandana when he bleeds enough. He’s already woozy from no sleep, and the blood loss doesn’t help, but he has to do this. Sam picks up the bronze bowl, standing up and looking around the small chapel he’s in. He hasn’t been here in almost three years. The place is destroyed, of course, from the last time Lucifer came topside; the ceiling collapsed, and the bodies of Ruby and Lilith decayed. The blood sigil is gone, dried and washed away by the rain.
There’s enough room for this, though. Sam made sure of it.
He dips his pointer and middle fingers into his blood, and starts drawing the new sigils on the stone floor.
“Will you say ‘yes’?” Lucifer asks him curiously, hopping up to sit at the church altar, his feet dangling over Lilith’s rotting head. “If you’re right?”
“I’ll say ‘yes’ to anything you want, if you’re alive.” Sam tells him, drawing the last of the sigil and then wiping the remaining blood on his fingers on his jeans.
Lucifer smiles at him, easy and fond. “Even if I wanna restart the Apocalypse?"
“You didn’t want to start it in the first place.” Sam shoots back, making Lucifer chuckle softly. Sam gets the rest of the supplies from his duffel bag– he already got the sulfur from the first demon, thankfully still in Lilith’s mouth, so it’s only dirt from the last cage opening, and an angel’s feather, the last one stolen from Castiel.
Sam puts his bowl of blood in the center of his circular sigil, places his supplies inside, and then heads towards Lucifer. He steps over Lilith’s corpse without a glance, and Lucifer greets him with open arms, pulling him to his chest. Sam rests his head over Lucifer’s silent heart, Lucifer pressing his lips to Sam’s crown.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed,” Lucifer sighs, running his fingers through the ends of Sam’s hair. “When this doesn’t work. Why don’t you listen to me, Sam? You never listen to me.”
“I do,” Sam argues weakly, falling deeper into his arms. He can’t close his eyes, although he thinks Lucifer might let him, this time. He thinks if he closes his eyes they’ll never open. “I listen to you.”
“You don’t.” Lucifer kisses Sam’s head gently, almost too soft to be felt. “You never do. I told you to trust me. I told you to let me make you happy. I told you not to put us in the cage. And look what you did?” Lucifer runs his hand down the back of Sam’s neck, to his jaw, and then grabs his chin to make him look up at him. “I told you to kill yourself to be free, and instead you’re gonna break our heart again.”
“You’re not real.” Sam tells him, reaching up to touch Lucifer’s lips. He’s gotten so used to this Lucifer’s warmth, he almost can’t remember how cold the real one is. “I’m sorry, but you’re not.”
“I’m all you have, Sam.” Lucifer grieves for him. “And after this, I won’t be. Please.”
“Lucifer,” It’s all Sam can say. He frantically blinks away the tears in his eyes. He knows this could be it. If he’s still in the cage, this won’t break the illusion, just make it so his mind can’t rationalize why Lucifer would be with him. If he’s out, Lucifer is free. Unless Michael did find him, and did kill him. It’s a gamble. It’s a horrible gamble. It’s all Sam has; he’s dead tonight, he knows it. “Lucifer.”
“When this doesn’t work, baby, do me a favor?” Lucifer shakes his head, not looking at Sam. “Stab yourself in the heart for me.”
Sam moves up to kiss him, holding him as tight as he can to him. Lucifer opens to him readily, as he always does, and his warm touch helps calm Sam’s nerves. He’s doing the right thing. This isn’t real.
“See what I mean?” Lucifer asks him, breaking away to murmur against the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Never listening. It doesn’t matter that I’m not real. Your soul is broken, Sam, and I’m the only thing keeping it together. You’re ripping the bandage off.”
“I miss you.”
“I know,” Lucifer kisses him again. “I miss you too. Bookends, huh?”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees with a watery chuckle, wiping his eyes away as he takes a step back. Taking a deep breath, and with Lucifer’s eyes on him, Sam starts the ritual. It’s not to open the cage, exactly; Sam isn't risking letting Michael out. It’s more like a summoning ritual, an exact and powerful one. Sam, if he’s really out of the cage, is going to raise Lucifer from Perdition.
Take that, Castiel, Sam thinks, nearly hysterical, and Lucifer laughs.
He laughs as Sam continues the ritual, laughs as Sam falls to his knees in exhaustion, laughs as the earth shakes around them, laughs so hard and so long that at a certain point, Sam realizes he was crying all along.
The crying only stops when a perfect white light emits from the bronze bowl. It’s nothing like the opening of the cage; this is contained, a force curling into itself rather than exploding out. Sam knows it. He knows this.
Please, be real, Sam begs, not looking away, not daring to see if Lucifer on the altar is still there, terrified to look away from this beautiful light. The light comes towards him, and Sam feels ice build around the stone floor, feels ice against his skin, almost like hands. A noise shakes the building, high pitched enough that windows down the street are sure to break. Sam recognizes it though. It doesn’t hurt it. No part of him could ever hurt Sam, not really.
Sam?
“Yes,” Sam cries. He reaches for the light, and feels the frost of it for a moment before it numbs him. Sam, for the first time in months, is free of pain. “Yes, Lucifer. Noib, noib, noib.”
You’re hurt, Lucifer does the equivalent of murmurs, wrapping himself around Sam. Sam thinks his tears have frozen on his face. You’re dying. What did you do?
“It doesn’t matter,” Sam tells him. And it doesn’t; it’s over now. This is real. He’s been out of the cage, and now Lucifer is too. “Just— come here. Please. Yes.”
Lucifer sighs, and to Sam it sounds like a frozen lake cracking under pressure. Defrosting, Sam thinks. “Lucifer,” Sam says again, firmer. All but telling him, ‘Don’t make me say it again.’
When Lucifer joins them together again, he’s laughing.
It’s okay, baby. Sam feels his own hands wipe away his tears, although he’s not the one doing it. I missed you. I knew you wouldn’t leave me.
Sam feels so cold. He’s never been happier.