A Progressive Revelation: 2 of 3
Part One
--
At first, Sam thinks the tapping on the door is in his dreams, that or someone in the room next to theirs doing something loud and obnoxious for this time of day. He rolls over, buries his face in Dean's shoulder, and tries to ignore it. The tapping doesn't stop; Sam groans, mutters something unintelligible even to himself.
"It's our door, you idiot," Dean grumps, voice ragged with not-enough-sleep and too much exhaustion from what they did last night. "And since you are on me, you get to answer it."
Sam mutters back something about positions that has Dean smacking the back of his head but he gets up, stretches and finds a pair of sweats to pull on. It's only as he's doing so that he notices: again, he's entirely healed. After everything they did last night, Sam honestly thought it would take longer. The fact that it hasn't worries him.
He opens the door, blinking at the light, and takes in the woman standing outside with a raised eyebrow.
"Prince," she says, voice soothing. "I apologise for waking you but I have something you requested. It is ready when you are."
Chills run down Sam's back. The Goblet of Barbatos, it's here and ready for him to use. Sam turns halfway, glances at Dean, who is sitting up in the bed, sheets pooled around his stomach, eyes narrowed even though they're still crusted with sleep. "Call Caésinha," Sam murmurs, turning back to Vetis. "Tell him I want him here, keeping an eye on Dean while I talk to our queen. Make it fast."
Sam shuts the door on Vetis, goes over to his duffel and starts pulling out clothes. Dean stands up; Sam can hear the sheets drop and doesn't turn to look, doesn't want to be distracted.
"Where are you going?" Dean asks. He sounds worried, angry, like every time Vetis stops by, but there's a deeper fear to his voice. Why it's there, Sam can guess but doesn't know for sure.
"I'm needed," Sam says. He pulls on socks, sneakers, then a t-shirt over his head, grabs his coat. "I won't be long. Stay here."
Dean glares, says, "Like hell I will," but then there's another knock on the door. Dean yanks on a pair of Sam's pyjama bottoms, strides over to answer the door, starts to say, "We're a little busy here," then stops abruptly.
Sam can feel Caésinha and calls out, "It's safe, Caésinha. Come in."
The man who's hosting Caésinha does as directed, gives Sam a mocking little nod and says, "Good morning, general. You look a bit rough around the edges."
"I'd be more careful if I were you," Vetis snarls, following Caésinha inside the motel room. "Wasn't it just a few days ago you pissed off the prince enough to be banished from his side?"
Caésinha flushes but doesn't argue.
"What the hell is going on?" Dean asks, hands on his hips, staring at Sam. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"The prince is needed," Vetis starts to say.
Sam lifts up a hand and Vetis stops talking immediately, just as Caésinha freezes in place. Sam knows he's overreacting but after last night, after the past week, knowing what he's about to do, he doesn't have any patience left in him. "I need to go and take care of something," Sam tells his brother. Dean glares but Sam adds, "And I need you to stay here. Caésinha will stay with you and he has my permission to keep you here."
Dean's glare turns molten. "You," he says, "are giving permission to a demon to keep me here. Sam, I am going to kill you."
"I know," Sam says. Dean blinks, startled. "And you'll resurrect me and do it again once you find out why. But I need you to stay here." He pauses, adds quietly, "I need you to be safe, Dean. You won't be safe coming after me and I don't want you left alone. Please, do this for me. Caésinha won't touch you, I swear, but let me do this for you."
The plea is half a reminder of what happened last night. Sam's demon enough to know that he's using whatever Dean feels sorry for against him. He's a creature of Wrath enough to feel almost triumphant when Dean stands down, steps back, and says, "Fine. But don't think I won't protect myself."
He's already going for a container of salt and his shotgun when Sam and Vetis leave.
--
The house isn't far away; Sam keeps one part of his attention on the bond between him and Caésinha, prepared to step in if he needs to. Vetis leads him to the basement and watches him carefully. Sam studies the pentagram already made, looks over the goblet sitting in the middle on a piece of black silk and the knife and piece of chalk on the ground next to it.
He nods, says, "Thank you, Vetis. I'll call you when I'm done."
The demon hesitates, almost looks as if she'll ask to stay, but finally leaves with a murmurs, "Good luck, lord."
Like the last time he used the goblet, Sam settles to his knees in the middle of the summoning runes. He traces Lilith’s sigil into the tuning space with the chalk, then throws the piece of chalk out of the pentagram. The runes shimmer with power that no human can see, chiming as they block Sam's focus from anything outside. Sam takes a deep breath and cuts his arm open, bleeds into the goblet. By the time he’s finished the summoning ritual, his arm’s healed.
“My general,” Lilith murmurs, voice rubbing against Sam’s mind. A pure wave of her power floats out from the goblet, tinged with the smell of blood, and twines around Sam. He fights to stay upright. “Why have you called me, little prince?”
It takes a moment for the question to sink in. It’s been so long since he’s felt Lilith’s presence, her power, and he wants to bask in it, close his eyes and give in to it. Still, she’s waiting for him and on him; it’s never good to keep the queen waiting. Sam pulls himself together, says, "A bargain, Lilith. Question for question, like last time."
Lilith hums, the noise thrumming outwards from the goblet, riding into Sam and making him gasp. She laughs, a low and throaty sound; Sam bows his head and can guess what she's going to say. "Come now," she says, laughter still threading through her words, "when do we ever do the same thing more than once, hmm? No, Samuel. Something new. Tell me why you called me and I shall demand payment once I know what is required from my end."
Even knowing this isn't a good idea, Sam doesn't have it in himself to argue with her. She's his queen. More than that, Lilith is -- he wants to say everything, thinks it, then remembers he has Dean waiting for him somewhere, probably worried and hating that Sam's gone off without saying anything. Lilith isn't everything. She never has been.
"Knowledge," Sam says. "That's all, Lilith. I have a question and I need an answer."
"Need," Lilith purrs, "is such a strange word. Such an," she says, pauses, and Sam can imagine her licking her lips, can feel the tips of her fingers gliding across his shoulders, dipping under his shirt collar, "odd and human turn of phrase."
Sam swallows. He's already kneeling but he slumps further down now, bends his head until his hair falls away from his neck. Lilith's sigil, pressed against his wrist, warms up and sends fire shooting through his body. Sam shudders, has to grit his teeth to keep from coming. "Forgive me," he says. For what, he doesn't know and can't specify.
There's a long moment of silence. Sam isn't sure what Lilith is going to say; she's capricious, yes, but even her moods have methods underneath. What lesson she's trying to teach him, what aspect of hell's conduct he's supposed to learn, Lilith will make sure he understands by the time they're done.
"Tell me what you want, Samuel," Lilith finally says. "What has driven you to contact me at the risk of your brother's wrath?"
Sam bites his lower lip and tries to let the mention of Dean slide off of him. "I heal," he says, flat and abrupt. "Like a demon." Lilith is silent. The tendrils of her power still. "Dean and I noticed it last week. We fucked for eight hours. He whipped me, bit me, prayed over me. He left me alone for a few minutes and I healed completely. It's gotten faster since then. Nothing stays. I asked Ruby but she didn't."
Lilith's power whips out of the goblet, strikes Sam across the face and cuts in deep. His head turns to one side with the force of her blow, blood spattering across the summoning circle. Sam pants, tries to clutch the floor with one hand, nails breaking against the concrete. His tongue lies heavy in his mouth.
"I wish to see this for myself," Lilith finally says. "Sycorax will make the arrangements."
Before Sam can argue, the blood in the goblet bursts into flame and the summoning runes each disappear in a spat of smoke. Sam's left kneeling on concrete, feeling like he's been torn to shreds. He has nothing to show for it but a hand already healed and the promise of Sycorax.
This is not good.
--
Sam wraps the goblet back up in the piece of black silk, sits there on his knees for a moment longer. He'll need to go back and warn Dean now, figure out when Sycorax will be arriving and if Lilith will really be accompanying him. The thought of her on the surface of the planet, outside of hell, doesn't bode well.
He hears movement, doesn't bother turning. The bond between him and Vetis is strong, freshly renewed with their physical closeness, and thrums with indolent sensation.
"Dean's going to kill me," he says.
Vetis snorts but doesn't actually say anything as she steps to the edge of the summoning circle and offers Sam a hand. Sam looks up at his second, sighs at the expression on Vetis' face. The demon waits as Sam leans forward, breaks the circle, and pulls when Sam clasps Vetis' hand.
"I don't know why you all hate him so much," Sam grouses, dusting off his knees. He sounds petulant but doesn't care; this thing all the demons have against Dean is getting really fucking old. If they'd accept it and learn to work around it they'd have better luck prying the two of them apart.
On second thought, maybe it's best if they keep hating him outright.
"He won't kill you," Vetis says once Sam's ready to leave the basement, goblet tucked under her arm. "I doubt he'll even punish you, not when he knows you like it."
Sam bites his lower lip. "He'll find a way," he says, low and quiet. His free hand rises, unbidden, to touch the collar. Lilith didn't even mention it. He wonders if she noticed it or merely assumed her sigil was still around his throat.
Vetis, one step behind Sam, laughs. The noise echoes in the basement, precedes them up the stairs. "You are the prince," Vetis says, simply, as if that's enough to explain anything away. "What can a human do to you?"
"More than enough," Sam says. Vetis inhales as if she's going to argue, so Sam snaps, "Drop it, Vetis. Now." His voice resonates with command.
"As you wish, my prince."
--
Sam tells Vetis that he can get back to the motel by himself, gives her orders to take the goblet and put it somewhere safe. Vetis starts to protest but Sam's nerves are shot; he twists the connection between them until Vetis is on her knees, panting out an apology.
"You try my patience," Sam says in a low voice he never knew he possessed. The words echo with power, hum with authority, and Vetis bows, puts her forehead on the floor. "See that it doesn't happen again or I will rethink my choice of your position."
Vetis sits up enough to nod; her eyes are filled with something approaching awed reverence. "I swear it," she whispers. "Forgive me, prince. I swear I will not question you again."
Something in Sam breaks, hearing her pledge. Yes, Vetis has trusted him, served him, but now Vetis fears him as well. Fear will keep demons in a much stricter line than love; to cause Vetis to fear him is to prove that he's becoming more demon than human, even apart from whatever's causing him to heal.
--
Sam jogs back to the motel, slows down to a walk when he sees an unfamiliar person sitting on the hood of the Impala. He reaches out, senses the demon inside of the human, and swallows.
Sycorax. Sycorax is here already.
The man doesn't say anything, just gives Sam a secret smile and lets Sam see the open door to the room he and Dean are sharing. Sam walks inside, stops and sighs. Dean's sitting on a chair inside of a salt circle, loaded shotgun on his lap. Caésinha's perched on the edge of one bed, watching Dean the way a snake might watch its prey.
"There's another one outside," Dean says the instant he sees Sam.
"I know," Sam says. He bites his lip, looks at Caésinha and tilts his head to the door. Caésinha doesn't move right away and Sam's eyes narrow, fill with hellfire. The demon stands gracefully and inclines his head, leaving silently. "Close the door behind you," Sam adds. He hears Caésinha pause and turns to look at the demon as he sends a wave of cold displeasure toward the host.
Caésinha flinches, eyes flooding black, and this time bows to Sam. "Of course, general. As you will it."
The demon leaves and closes the door as he steps out of the room.
Dean is up instantly, moving to where Sam is. Sam has just enough time to turn back and face his brother before Dean's landed a punch on his jaw, knocking him back a step. Sam looks at Dean, raises an eyebrow. "Do you feel better now?"
"The hell was that?" Dean asks, fury written into every line of his body. "Leaving with me with a demon, first, and going off without telling me what's going on? Sam, you said I'd kill you if I knew what you were up to. Jesus Christ, what's going on?"
Sam lets the name of God strike at his face, turns and spits blood out of his mouth, can feel the skin knitting together a handful of seconds later. Every part of his body aches, not from any physical injury, and he's so tired. He sits on the edge of the bed, where Caésinha had been minutes ago, and hates himself for being surprised when Dean sits next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders.
"If I'm gonna kill you," Dean says, "I want to know why. Okay? What's going on?"
"I need to find out why I'm healing," Sam says. Dean makes a noise of agreement and waits; they both know there's more to the story than that. "Ruby didn't have any ideas but she suggested I ask Lilith." At Dean's growl, as Dean's working up to say something fueled by fury and fear, Sam looks at his brother, takes Dean's face in his hands. "I need to know, Dean. She's the only one who can tell me. If there was any other way, I'd leave Lilith alone. But this, what it's doing to me. I have to know. And I know you're angry and I'm scared, but I have to know."
Dean reaches up, covers Sam's hands with his own and then moves them from his cheeks. He twines his fingers in with Sam's, looks down at their hands. "You talked to her," he says.
It isn't a question and Sam doesn't treat it like one. He'd keep quiet if there wasn't more to confess. "She wants to see it for herself," Sam says, soft as a whisper in the otherwise silent room. "The demon outside, that's Sycorax." Dean stiffens, must be remembering the demon from the crossroads, from other things Sam's said since he's been back. "Lilith's coming up to earth to see it for herself."
Sam swallows, hangs his head. He doesn't know what Dean's going to do, how Dean's going to react. Hell, he hasn't settled on a reaction yet. His heart's still pounding at the thought of Lilith let loose on earth but his blood's boiling in his veins at the idea of seeing his queen so soon. He's human enough to fear her presence on the planet but demon enough to yearn for it.
"Lilith," Dean says. "And Sycorax. Here. Any others?"
"I don't know," Sam replies. He hunches his shoulders, tries to make himself appear smaller. "I doubt Lilith would leave hell without an escort. Coming to see me, she might bring more. I just. She's the queen. I don't know what she'll do."
Dean's silent for a long moment, then he asks, "Will she give you an answer?"
Sam blinks, looks at Dean. His brother's face is blank, voice just as even to match. "I. There's no guarantee. I hope so. Dean."
"I'm going with you." Dean's not expecting argument. Sam weighs the comfort of having Dean at his back against the worry about putting Dean and Lilith within one hundred miles of each other. "She'll have to get used to me sooner or later," Dean goes on to say. "Might as well be sooner."
Dean's reached up, is stroking Sam's collar. It comforts both of them but how will Lilith see it? She'll resent Dean's possessiveness, that's for sure, and after all the time that Lilith spent trying to get Sam to renounce Dean, to see Sam wearing Dean's collar, well. She's not going to like that. Sam won't take the collar off, though, not even for his queen.
"Okay," Sam says. He scoots over on the bed, twists so that he can put his head in Dean's lap. Dean traces his finger along the skin above the collar, runs one hand through Sam's hair while the other rests on Sam's shoulder.
--
Sam doesn't know how long they sit there like that, but it's still not long enough when there's a knock on the door. Dean swears under his breath and starts to move. Sam doesn't, just turns his head and looks up at his brother, question written in his eyes. Dean studies him, then nods and settles back onto the bed. Sam closes his eyes and calls out, "It's open. Come in, Sycorax."
He hears the door open, hears Sycorax walk in and shut the door behind him. Sam feels Sycorax's eyes on him and tenses the minute Sycorax sees the collar; there's no mistaking the reason behind Sycorax's gasp.
"Time was," the demon says a moment later, "you said you were no one's property. That you felt as though you deserved the ninth circle for betraying your human family. And now I see you wearing the collar of that same family. Have you turned into nothing but a possession, Sam? Reduced to the status of a loyal dog in an attempt to beg forgiveness?"
"He's not a dog," Dean says, hint of a growl in his voice. His hands are tight, digging into Sam's shoulder and scalp.
Sam sits up, leaves one hand to rest on Dean's thigh. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, feels the collar tight around his throat. "Stop teasing him, Sycorax. Dean offered out of love; he didn't need to and he didn't do it to prove a point. As for me, you know, better than anyone, that wearing any kind of collar is my choice."
Sycorax sighs, puts his hands on his hips. "Will you not allow me my fun?" he asks, pouting. "It is so rare, after all, that I come to the planet." Sam tries but he can't help the smile. Sycorax sees it, pounces like a cat might on a mouse caught out in the open. "Ah, haven't you missed me, Sam? Hell's been a lot quieter without you, quiet and dull. Are you ready to come back home?"
Dean tenses; Sam can feel the muscles shift beneath his hand. He digs in with his nails as best he can, shakes his head just enough for Dean to see.
"I'm fine where I am, Sycorax," Sam says. "What arrangements have you made for Lilith's visit?"
"All business," Sycorax says, shaking his head. "Pity, Sam. Well, if you'd like to get down to it, you are the prince and I am just a lowly messenger sent by our queen. The warehouse where you exorcised a demon last night, you remember how to get there?"
Dean snorts. "No shit, Sherlock. It's pretty much just down the street. We're not stupid."
Sam gives Dean a look, takes Dean's rolled eyes as assent. He turns back to Sycorax, says "We'll be there at sunset. Is that good enough?"
Sycorax spreads his hands, inclines his head. "You do us honour with your presence, prince, but are you sure you won't come now? 'Go and play till the light fades away,' as your Blake once said?"
"Not today," Sam says. He pauses, asks, "Do you know who else is going to be there?"
Straightening, hands falling to his sides, Sycorax gives Sam a smile full of shadowed promise. "I do, Sam. But I've sworn to keep it to myself. And if there's one thing you know, it's that the right hand of the ruler is bound by the vows they swear. Stay safe until sunset, Sam. Lilith would be disappointed to find her trip made in vain."
Sycorax leaves. Once the door's closed and Sam's alone with Dean, he lets out a sigh, leans into Dean. "I'm sorry," he says.
It takes long minutes for Dean to say, "I know."
Sam feels something inside of him break. He grits his teeth, ignores it. He can't doubt Dean, can't doubt what they have, not with Lilith coming to see him, to push and poke at him the way only she can. He has to be strong, for himself and for Dean as well.
"We should try and get some sleep now," Sam says. "Maybe something to eat. Not much, but." He trails off into silence.
"There's some soup in the car," Dean murmurs. "We can warm it up in the microwave and then go back to bed." Sam, tired as he is, moves to stand. Dean prods him back to the bed, though, and says, "I'll get it."
He slips outside before Sam can react. For the longest time, Sam doesn't think Dean will be coming back. He reaches up, touches the collar, and goes into the bathroom. He's done throwing up and has filled two glasses with water by the time Dean comes back inside, three cans of Campbell's in his hands.
--
They eat and sleep, Sam curled up in as small a ball as he can make himself, Dean's back the only thing Sam can see. The alarm's set for an hour before sunset; they had to look the time up to figure out the exact minute. Dean had protested, said something about the spirit of the law rather than the letter, and Sam had snapped back, "That's not the way Lilith works, Dean. We'll be there the moment of, not a second before and not a second after."
The alarm goes off and Sam wakes instantly. He doesn't both showering and he doesn't bother dressing up. Knowing Lilith, he'll be naked and in pain within minutes; there's no point trying to impress her. A pair of his oldest jeans, sneakers without socks, a t-shirt already covered with bloodstains and a ragged hoodie, and Sam's ready to go. Dean eyes the outfit with a gleam in his eyes that means he knows exactly why Sam's wearing what he is.
"We should go," Sam says, fifteen minutes before sunset, the first either of them have spoken since lying down. Dean grunts acknowledgement and moves to the door, swipes the keys off the table while he's moving. "Dean, you don't," Sam starts to say.
Dean stops mid-stride. The line of his shoulders are speaking louder than Dean ever could and yet Dean still says, "You are not going to tell me I don't have to go, are you? Because if you do, not only will you be wasting your breath, I'll beat the shit out of you before we ever get to Lilith."
Sam exhales, says, "It won't be pretty, Dean. You might regret going."
"Do you regret saving my life?" Dean asks.
"No," Sam breathes. "Not for a second."
Dean nods, starts walking again. "Then get moving. I hear it isn't a good idea to keep the bitch waiting."
Sam has the momentary urge to tell Dean to watch his language around Lilith, to be respectful and keep his mouth shut and not say anything that might disturb her. By the time he bites it back, Dean's standing next to the Impala and giving him a look. Sam gives Dean a forced smile and hustles outside.
--
The drive is quick but feels like it takes forever. The Impala's crackling with tension, too much to move a knife through, and Sam almost stumbles out of the car when Dean parks it at the warehouse. He takes a deep breath, looks around and sees the two vans parked down at the other end of the building.
"Why a warehouse?" Dean asks. "Demons are always shacking up in warehouses."
"Easier to clean the blood or burn the building down," Sam replies. He doesn't even have to think about it, something that has Dean turning to look at him with wide eyes. Dean shakes his head, checks his watch, and Sam says, "It's time. Dean, are you sure."
Dean's eyes narrow, glimmer with something that reminds Sam of Wrath. "I told you, Sam," he says.
"I know," Sam says quietly, cutting his brother off. "But this is Lilith we're talking about. I want you to be absolutely, positively sure, Dean. No doubt, no hesitation. I won't think less of you if you want to wait for me out here. Hell, I'd probably be relieved."
"You're not getting rid of me that easy," Dean mutters, stomping around the Impala and knocking Sam with his elbow. "Let's get this over with."
Sam nods, leads Dean to the door. With a deep breath, Sam turns the handle just as the sun's sinking beneath the horizon.
--
A quick look first, and Sam counts ten demons. None of them are in their true form, have all possessed humans, and Sam only recognises Ruby and the ones he's already seen today: Vetis, Caésinha, and Sycorax. He doesn't have time to figure out who's who of the rest of them before Dean follows him inside. The door clangs closed and the lock turns. Dean looks at it, looks at Sam, and then the demons. "Nice entourage," he mutters.
The little girl in the crowd steps forward. Her eyes are clouded white. Sam drops to a knee instantly, bows his head. "Queen," he says, the word echoing in the silence of the warehouse. "It is good to see you."
Lilith laughs, the child's voice doing nothing to contain Lilith's throaty purr or the wave of power that comes slinking out of the host's body along with the sound. Tendrils of her power caress Sam's face, slide against his skin; Sam turns boneless, heavy and weighted down with the feel of her.
"My little general," Lilith says. "It is good to see you, as well. Can I not convince you to return home with us? We will be more than pleased to test the limits of your new skill there."
"Sam's home is here," Dean snaps. A moment later, he reels backwards, handprint blooming on his face.
Lilith doesn't look away from Sam to say, "You shouldn't speak in the presence of your betters, Dean Winchester. Our use for you is over and done. Do not try my patience."
The same words Sam snarled at Vetis only hours ago, now coming out of Lilith's mouth. Sam swallows at the comparison, the implication. He stands to his feet and moves in front of Dean. Lilith sees the positioning and the smile she gives Sam is hard and holds an edge of betrayal. Sam's mouth dries.
"Will you not greet your loyal subjects, Samuel?" Lilith asks, hands moving casually to gesture at the other demons gathered there. "Some of them have come long distances to witness this."
Sam nods at Ruby first; she crosses the distance between Lilith's group and Sam, gives him a hug and, with a mocking little smile at Dean, a peck on the lips. Sam aches for more but holds back, wraps one arm around Ruby and pulls her tight, flush against his body. Dean, behind him, presses close to the other side of Sam.
Lilith laughs, asks, "Why, Sam. Have you chosen a new right hand?"
"No," Sam says, evenly. "Vetis," he murmurs, beckoning Vetis forward with one finger.
Vetis crosses the same space as Ruby had and drops to a knee in front of Sam. "Prince," Vetis murmurs, the woman's voice low, careful. "You honour me."
Sam doesn't tell Vetis to move and so the demon doesn't, stays on one knee as Sam scans the rest of the assembled demons. "Sycorax," he says, nodding. Sycorax nods back but stays at Lilith's right hand; he'll never leave that position, not during something like this. "Wrath and Lust," Sam says next. "I didn't think you'd be leaving hell."
"And miss this?" Lust asks, tossing her host's hair behind her shoulder. "Hardly." Her eyes gleam.
"She's right," Wrath adds. "I smell blood about to be spilled."
Dean leans close, murmurs right into Sam's ear, "Didn't Ruby kill that one?"
As she told Sam, word for word, Lilith says, "My Magnificent Seven can never be destroyed, Dean Winchester, not so long as humanity exists. You recreate them at every turn, with every breath."
Her smile is cat-like and sends chills up and down Sam's spine. He wants to crawl across the floor and wait, kneeling, at her feet, wants to prostrate himself before her and beg for her favour. He won't, though, not with Ruby and Dean holding onto his arms, not with Vetis blocking the way. He wants to worship Lilith, but he is the prince. He is worthy of worship of his own.
Wrath and Lust stay near Lilith, as do the next three Sam names: Sonneillon, Agares, Orobasya, the shedim Sam exorcised in Ogunquit, all of them in male bodies. Sam turns to the last demon, says, "Caésinha," and holds out one hand.
For a moment, Caésinha looks like he's going to stay where he is. Sam readies himself to let loose with enough power to convince Caésinha it's in his best interest to move. Before he does, Caésinha steps out from his place behind Lilith, sashays his way over to Sam.
"You don't expect me to kneel, I hope," he says with a warm laugh. Sam stares at the demon, lets fire burn in his eyes. Caésinha's laugh tapers away into nothing, smile sliding off his face. The corners of Sam's lips quirk and Caésinha's pressed to the ground, has to scramble to do so with a modicum of dignity. Sam's not gaining the demon's love by forcing the issue but, then again, Caésinha is one of Pride's. He'll never love Sam. The most Sam can hope for is his fear.
Lilith claps; the sound makes Dean flinch. "You are a pretty group," Lilith says, smiling wide. "My prince and my princess, his right hand and close servant." Lilith's grin turns bloodthirsty, sharp, as she adds, "And my prince's prophet and chosen consort, to hear Sycorax tell the tale. A pretty group, indeed. So enlighten me, Samuel, why are we here?"
Dean opens his mouth but Sam elbows him; the action isn't discreet enough to escape Lilith's notice, nor any of the other demons they're facing. Wrath opens her mouth to say something about it; Lilith holds up one hand and Wrath quiets, fuming with the order but obeying it.
"I heal," Sam says. "Like a demon. Fast and without signs of the hurt. I want to know why it's happening and why now."
Lilith tilts her head, little-girl curls brushing her shoulders. "I'd like to see proof," she says. "Sonneillon, you shall whip the prince so that we may study this, this healing in action."
Before Sam can stop him, Dean steps forward, past Vetis. "No one's touching him," Dean says, hint of a growl in his voice. "You said it yourself, chosen consort, right? He's mine. No one else is gonna be touching him."
"We already have," Lilith says. Her tone of voice sounds so at odds with the smile on her face, with the body she's wearing. "Deeper and in far more intimate places than you ever can or ever will, Dean. How does that make you feel?"
"If anyone is going to be hurting Sam," Dean replies, voice cold as ice, "I will. He might have given himself to you, but he did it for me. I own him." Before Sam can bristle and Lilith can laugh, Dean adds, "And he owns me. We're a package deal, sweetheart. So back the fuck off and let me deal with him the way I want. You're only here to give us answers."
Lilith's smile, when it comes, is edged in furious humour. "But I haven't yet seen the proof of the question. Perhaps there are subtle things you wouldn't pick up on, being human."
Dean's answering laugh is not one of amusement. "And perhaps there are things you don't know about Sam, since you're nothing but a demon bitch."
Sam winces, steps around Vetis. Ruby moves with him as they stand in front of Dean. "He is my chosen consort," Sam says, eyes lowered to the ground even as his head is held up straight. "It is within his right to and in accordance with our laws that he administer any beating. The only one who might gainsay his word would be Ruby's, but she hasn't and she isn't going to."
"When I make demands, I expect obedience," Lilith says. Her voice slides against Sam, winds around him and traces the curve of his neck, under the collar. "I expect it instantly, little prince. I know you have not forgotten that, out of all your lessons in our domain."
Ruby steps to the side and Sam kneels on the warehouse floor right where he is, Vetis and Caésinha still on their knees as well, behind him. Sam takes off his shirt, tells the two demons to get up and stay out of the way. Caésinha flounces back towards Lilith but Vetis moves slowly, reaches out a hand to touch Sam and opens her mouth. Sam shakes his head; Vetis turns her back, follows Caésinha.
"You will need tools," Lilith says, lifting her head imperiously and staring at Dean. She cocks a finger and Agares brings forward a large duffel bag, drops it in front of Dean. "All of the implements inside should be familiar to your brother. Entertain me, Dean, or someone else will."
Sam turns his head, watches as Dean unzips the duffel, stretches it open. Dean's jaw works and Sam can see his brother's knuckles turn white. He wonders what's inside but then Dean pulls out a large, crooked needle made of bone and stained with blood. Sam pales, sways on his knees. That needle, Sycorax tore out Sam's sartorius muscle and threaded it on that needle, used the needle to sew his lips shut.
Dean gingerly sets the needle down on the warehouse floor, takes out a small knife, the one Sycorax used to fillet Sam's skin off, then a crop, then a whip, then three more knives. The bag's shape has changed but it's still full of things, toys and tools; Sam wonders what Lilith's brought up from hell and, more telling, what she hasn't.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Dean mutters, fingering a whip. "Are you sure you."
"Dean," Sam says, meeting his brother's eyes. "Please. I'm asking this from you. I know you remember Miami." Dean flushes but nods. "I want that from you and I'm asking for it," his lips quirk but not in humour, "in front of witnesses."
Dean crouches down, studies Sam like Sam's a book written in a language Dean's never seen. "You've never. You didn't say, Sam," Dean says. "Not once."
Sam lifts a hand, trails his fingers down the handle of the whip, then across Dean's wrist. "I know."
Dean flinches as if Sam just punched him.
Lilith laughs, claps her hands. "Are we done with the touching confessions, Sam? It shouldn't be necessary to convince your consort to do his duties. He should be eager, foaming at the mouth for the opportunity. Perhaps your choice should be reconsidered."
Sam looks at Lilith, at the child she's wearing, and says, "Dean? You should take the bracelet off. I wouldn't want anything to hurt it."
Every single one of the demons drops their eyes to Sam's wrist, the one he's holding out towards Dean. He watches as they pale, realising what the sigils represent, as their eyes widen in disbelief, as they look for a reaction from Lilith. She just raises an eyebrow, tilts her head to one side, and waits.
Dean glances at Sam, then at Ruby; Sam knows his brother's more than aware of the undercurrents floating through the warehouse even if he can't understand the nuances of them all. He reaches out for Sam's arm, holds it steady with one hand as the other undoes the clasp and takes off the bracelet proclaiming Sam's lineage and alliances. With a dismissive toss and a glare at Lilith, Dean throws it behind them.
The noise echoes on the floor for a long, frozen moment.
Lilith finally moves, snaps out, "Begin," and there is no mistaking the venom in her voice.
"There's nothing here to warm him up with," Dean says back, just as poisonous.
Sam's eyes search out Ruby; she looks as worried about this as Sam feels.
"Our dear little prince," Lilith says, and though her tone is soft, it is also without give, satin-covered iron, "does not need to be warmed up. Begin!"
The warehouse shakes with her command. Sam bends his head, practically to the ground. The next thing he feels is a hand in his hair, digging in and pulling hard as it rips him upwards so fast Sam wonders about whiplash. Dean's in front of him, pupils tiny as though he's seen a bright, unyielding light, but there's resolve in the set of his jaw, shoulders.
Dean gives Sam a look and Sam nods.
Part Three