On Broken Wings of Love and Deceit (Samifer, FemSam)

Chapter Six

Shadows Cast by Fire

The impala growled throatily as it drew into the driveway. Sam blinked in the early morning light, they had been driving for hours on the open road through the darkness. Lucifer had not stirred once, he had layed still, almost as if he was dead, head flopping onto his chest in his slumber. Sam had been furious at first, why was she taking the devil home? It went against every instinct she had, what would Dean say?  But every time she made up her mind to pull over and gank him, she glanced in the rear view mirror and gazed at his bloody, slack and strangely beautiful face, she couldn't bring herself to, however hard she tried.

Tires crunched in the gravel as she maneuvered the car into a favourable position. Turning off the engine, she sat in silence for a while, her breath coming in thick white clouds as Lucifer's influence began to take hold. Craning her neck round to look in the back seat, she gasped slightly as she came face to face with a pair of glittering eyes peering back at her from the shroud of darkness around Lucifer. He was awake.

"We're here now" she said gently

Lucifer did nothing but stare at her in response. Sam could see the pain behind his eyes, an eternal suffering brought on by centuries of heartbreak and torture. "i'm going to come round and help you to the house" she explained, the hair rising on the back of her neck, disturbed by Lucifer's unflinching gaze. "can you quit looking at me like that?" she snapped. Lucifer closed his eyes slowly in submission, extunquishing the only light in the rear of the Impala. Sam pulled herself out of the car and shut the door with is familiar creak. Opening the door on Lucifer's side, she leaned in and pulled the blanket from around him, exposing his injuries in the morning light. They looked even worse now, the blood drying into crusted black blotches and bone sticking out in dull shards. Lucifer mumbled something indecipherable, his voice too broken and throat too dry to be able to form words. "Don't try to speak" Sam cautioned slowly. "Let's get you to the house" She put her arm around Lucifer, narrowly avoiding what remained of his wings and pulled him out of the Impala. Lucifer made a rasping scream, the noise raw and vulnerable. Sam grimaced at it, horrified at Lucifer's incredible agony and startled by his amazing endurance. She walked him up the gravel drive, his legs barley taking any of his weight, Sam had to half carry him.

Eventually they made it to the door, Sam took out a rusty key from her pocket and opened it. This is the place that she had called home for the last 4 months, and it bore the scars of her grief. A dank, mildewed smell seeped around them as they entered. The carpet was stained with old food and littered with rubbish, stacks of empty bottle lay overturned in the corners. Lucifer noticed a variety of photo frames, smashed and laying upside down on the floor. The mirror was also smashed, like someone had punched it. The air was stagnant and stank of alchol and neglect.

Sam seemed to ignore the chaos around them and continued: "I'm going to put you in the basement. It's a bit cold, but you seem to have that effect anyway" her voice was hard, not betraying any emotion. Inside she was caught in a whirlwind of indecision and confusion, was this the right thing? She carried Lucifer down the bare concrete steps, a icy draught rushing up to meet them, the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered erratically casting uncertain shadows around the room. Pulling a storage crate over, she gently eased Lucifer onto it. "I'm going it go and get you some water and blankets. Stay here, i doubt you can, but don't move...or i'll have no choice but to turn your lights out." With that, she walked briskly back up the stairs, leaving Lucifer alone.

Lucifer was tired, more tired then he ever thought possible. He barely had the energy to stay awake, let alone attempt an escape. All he could do was wait and see what fate had in store for him. He gazed around his new home blearily. In one corner was a pile of scuffed cardboard boxes, worn by years of travelling and warped by water damage. A faint blue logo was visible on one, LAWRENCE REMOVALS, KANSAS, and scrawled over the top in a permanent marker, DO NOT OPEN. A faint recognition swam into Lucifer's muddled thoughts, this was a box of memories. Things that survived the fire, the end of the Winchester's peaceful lives. Shadows of what they once were, ending up in a basement- abandoned by the last Winchester surviving, a desperate attempt to avoid the pain of remembrance. The rest of the room was empty, apart from a large area in the opposite corner, something covered by a black sheet of tarpaulin. Lucifer's demonic side could almost, but not quite detect something familiar in the smell that drifted from that corner of the room.

Sam returned with a glass full of cool, clear water. Kneeling in front of Lucifer, she gently tilted the glass up to his lips. Lucifer took one large gulp, and then almost immediately sprayed it out again, all over Sam. Flinching back in the shock of being drenched with cold water,"What did you do that for!?" Lucifer couldn't answer, only shake his head violently. Sam  looked at him, contemplating for a moment. "Ah." she mumbled. "Maybe this will help." She walked over to the black tarpaulin, pulling it off in one go to expose about a dozen dirty milk bottles,some half filled, some full with demon blood. A few  empty bottles streaked with red fell over as she removed the tarpaulin, the sound of plastic against concrete echoing in the silent room. Lucifer perked up as Sam removed a crusted lid , the coppery scent of blood filling the room. Sam's pupils dilated as she breathed it in, her iris almost disappearing, veins stood out on her neck as she tensed, resisting the pull of the red liquid in her hands. "This...might do..the trick" She said, words fractured as she fought her addiction. This time, she didn't need to help Lucifer, he grabbed the bottle in trembling hands and took deep gulps, draining it in a few minutes. "another" he managed to croak. Sam fetched him bottle after bottle, nearly depleting her entire store before Lucifer was satisfied.

"Thank you." Lucifer said, voice strong, eyes piercing like lasers into Sam's very being. His skin was a slightly more healthy colour, still pale but without the pallor of death. Swallowing hard, Sam nodded, unable to talk, still fighting the urge to drink what Lucifer had left.

"Why do you have all of that blood?" Lucifer sneered, detecting a weakness. He tried to get up, feeling refreshed and strong- he didn't need the help of a puny Winchester. Sam returned the smirk, knowinghe had miscalculated badly, just because he was feeling better mentally didn't fix his wilting vessel and shattered wings. As he stood up he wobbled, staggered and then collapsed at Sam's feet.

"Old habits die hard." she whispered, crouching down to Lucifer's level and looking him in the eyes. 

"If you are going to stay here, with me, if you are going to survive this. You are going to have to change."