thelockbox | Lucifer

Dean almost stumbled backwards when Sam muscled his way into the shower stall, he hadn't expected his little brother to put up such a big fight. Dean figured it would be like all the other times where he swallowed down his own pain, where he played off the shock and ran on auto pilot for a bit, where he could just scrub himself raw and try not to think about the shit storm that was his life ever since that fateful night in Kansas all those years ago. Essentially made a parent at four years old. Dean had never had a childhood...but he'd never blamed Sam. He'd done everything he possibly could think of to make sure his little brother never knew just how broken they were. Just how broken he himself was.

He'd hoped that Sam would listen, see the roses and ignore the dying vines behind them. That he would take Dean for his word, that he was fine, and go about his day. Part of him wanted his brother to forget what he'd seen. To forget how weak he was. Another part of him was grateful Sam saw..that he didn't have to try and hide just how much it hurt.

The hot water hit the blanket and then his skin and in seconds both he and Sam were drenched. Too hot...the water was too hot and he fumbled behind his back with the knob to add some cold to it. He didn't argue, didn't try to force Sam out. He didn't speak again until Sam said they were safe. His eyes prickled and tears fell without his consent. Of course the water from the shower head hid the fact he was crying.

"No, Sam. We're not safe. He walked in here...right past whatever wards you set up. He said you gave him the master key. There isn't anywhere we can go that he can't find us." The unspoken 'can't find me' hung in the air. Castiel always knew how and where to find Dean. They were bound after all. With Lucifer having access to that...Dean was pretty damn certain there was literally nothing he could do to hide from the fallen Archangel.

Edited 2016-03-17 02:38 (UTC)

When Eliot met Sam's gaze, his eyes were sullen and disturbed, but remained determined and strong. He was hurting from his actions, but it wasn't something he would talk about or that he couldn't push on from. This would remain with him, like all the other things that he did that ended him in hell, and he would remember it, but he wasn't going to let it freeze him here.

Which was how Eliot made himself move, helping Sam up, sweeping the dildo and chains onto the floor in the meanwhile. Some of the spikes scratched him with the action, but he didn't even seem to notice as he stepped in to give Sam his arms for support should the other man need them.

"I didn't want--... I thought it'd be worse if I let him know it mattered. He wants me to submit, I can take that, but now he knows it'll work, and you're..." Eliot trailed off, it not needing to say the rest. Sam was going to be the leash around Eliot now, the whipping boy to his resistance, but no matter how effective that will be, the hitter wasn't ready to submit. The only thing he felt he needed to add, as he carefully helped Sam back into the still hot water, was, "M'sorry."

Sam understood, at once. Sam was what was going to be used to control Eliot, he'd understood that since Lucifer's first commands. But Eliot cared. That was what Sam had done to him. He held up, grateful for Eliot's help as they moved across the room again, and letting a soft hiss or pain and relief as he was lowered back down into the water.

When he could think again, speak again, he looked right at Eliot, intensely.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry, Eliot. If I hadn't made you care about me... Honestly, I don't even know why you do. I rape you. Every day. I don't deserve your compassion."

His back was aching now, the muscles complaining, going rigid in an effort to prevent movement and therefore continued pain. Sam was trying to get them to relax in the hot water, but it was hard. He hurt all over. He looked back across to Eliot.

"There's no way out of this, for either of us. I'll condemn you, whether you're willing or not."

Jesus, Dean was crying. Sam stared at him, not really sure where to start, how to approach it, so he pretended that he didn't notice, that the water crashing down on them both was hiding some of it. But as much as he lied to himself about that, Dean's voice goddamn cracked as he spoke. Lucifer had broken in here, past all their spells, it was true--and it was true that it was Sam's fault too. He'd given him the damn ticket in through the front door, and now he could do anything he wanted to Dean, no matter where they hid.

He grimaced.

"We still have the Enochian seals on our ribs. We can abandon the bunker, Dean. Maybe it won't be as easy for us to fight Amara from here, but so long as he can't get to you..." He gave his head a rough shake, and reached his hand up to Dean's shoulder, squeezing it firmly.

"Cas won't be able to forgive himself unless we try, right? We have to."

"Cas can always find me." Dean murmurs so softly the sound of the shower almost drowns it out. He knows they aren't safe, he can feel it in his bones. As much as Lucifer wants the Darkness gone, he would also love to put Sam and Dean down. No more Winchesters, no more pesky problems. No more stubborn determination to prevent what he had planned.

When Sam's hand landed on his shoulder Dean flinched. He jerked back before stilling and trying to relax. Sam wouldn't hurt him. Sam was alright. Sam can help. He took a deep breath and then turned slightly to reach for a wash cloth. He was done talking...now was the time to wash the evidence of what transpired away from his skin. If only it were as easy to wash it from his soul and memory.

"You didn't make me do anythin'," Eliot corrected as he took in how uncomfortable Sam looked. He was bleeding into the water still, causing the hot water to grow pinkish with blood. If this was anywhere but hell, Eliot would be alarmed by how easily lethal that could be.

Whatever Eliot had decided to do, it definitely wasn't because Sam made him do it. Their time together simply showed Eliot the truth, that Sam was as much of a victim as he was, and that he suffered things only of Eliot's nightmares. Once that was established, it all went from there. He meant what he implied to Lucifer about respecting Sam too, the man had survived more than he could ever imagine, he witnessed it with his own eyes. If Sam had tried to actively convince Eliot instead, then things wouldn't have gone this way at all.

"It ain't your fault either. I know that. You wouldn't be apologizin' if it was." Eliot let his gaze slip away, jaw clenched. Although the ordeal was over, neither of them were relaxed, and taking note of that, Eliot carefully touched Sam's shoulder. "Turn around," he said softly, "I'll clean your back."

Sam was grateful, immensely so, that Eliot was cutting him a break in that respect. Even now, though, Sam knew that he'd have to betray everything Eliot did for him, said to him today, when tomorrow came around. He'd have to roll him over and take him again, like it was any other day.

But for now, he just sunk down, carefully folding, turning on the spot to present his ruined back to Eliot. It would heal--it wasn't as if Lucifer had gone out of his way to make the scars from this one stay.

He exhaled slowly, moving his hands up to place them on the edge of the bathtub, where he could hold onto the edge, dig his fingers hard against the stone if it hurt--which it would.

"You can...you can sleep with me on the bed tonight, if you want."

It wasn't like Lucifer ever joined them, it was always just Sam curled up at the foot of the bed. Archangels, after all, didn't take naps, and Sam's place was as much a gesture as anything else he did.

"Cas..." Sam trailed off. Cas could always find Dean. Well that...that made sense. How often had they been rolling down the road and Cas had just popped into the back seat. There must be something between them, something more than Sam knew.

Cas had certainly never snuck up on Sam.

"I got it." He reached past Dean, taking the cloth down from the hook. He shook it out under the water, squeezing the hand on Dean's shoulder slightly. "I got it, okay? And just so you know I'm fine. It's not awkward. How many times did you throw me in the bath when we were young?"

Okay, so it was a little bit awkward, but Sam would get over it if it meant that Dean would be okay. Besides, if he bent over, Cas had a feeling Dean would realize how uncomfortable he really was.

Dan fought for a moment trying to strong arm the cloth from his over attentive brother before just relenting when he almost slipped on the wet tiles. Better to just let Sam do as he pleased and get it over with. Strange how that's mostly how Dean's life went. Grin, bear it, and get it over with.

They both knew it was awkward in spite of what Sam said. It was plainly obvious what happened to Dean. The bruises from Castiel's...no Lucifer's fingers, were painfully vivid on his pale skin. His hips hurt, his ass hurt, his heart hurt. His heart hurt the worst of all. He hurt for himself and he hurt for Cas...and in some ways he hurt for Sam. Sam who certainly had better things to do than clean up his older brother who just finished playing bitch to an archangel.

Sam was surprisingly gentle as he trailed the cloth over his body. He flinched when he dipped below his waist, he wanted to protest but he just swallowed it down and stood as still as he could. He had to hold back the hiss of pain that illicted when Sam cleaned between his cheeks. He didn't think anything was torn but it was sensitive to say the least.

It was easier once Sam turned around and Eliot was no longer under his gaze. Taking up the sponge, he moved into position behind the injured man to carefully clean up the mess. He had seen it up close before, but on the bed, in those circumstances, it had been a cursory look at best, but running the sponge along their edges showed Eliot just how bad it was. And since Sam didn't act like these were anything special, Eliot surmised they will heal, eventually. Yet when compared to Sam's scarred back, Eliot knew there was the distinct possibility that these were but passing wounds that wouldn't leave a single scar.

His hand inadvertently moved from the slash to trace a long scar that crossed beneath it. What else had Sam experienced that didn't leave any marks on his body?

"That would be... nice." It had been weeks since Eliot could stretch his legs when he slept. The cage was only long enough to allow him to half bend his legs at most, and every time he got out, his limbs and back were stiff from the semi stress position. On the other hand, he noticed Sam slept curled up by choice at the foot of the bed.

He put away the sponge to lay his hand in Sam's shoulder instead. Then picking out the tension, he kneaded the muscles to help loosen the muscles to make relaxing easier. "You have anythin' I can put on your back?"

Sam slowly did begin to relax, little by little, between the working of the sponge and the kneading of Eliot's fingertips. He felt safe with the other man, protected, and he bent into each touch gratefully, particularly toward the end, sighing softly as he persisted.

He gave his head a shake, finally, at the question, rolling his hips forward and moving away from the touch to his shoulder. He'd settled in far too much, and he peeled forward the rest of the way, lifting his toe to the step and pulling himself out of the bath. This time he padded as far as the pile of towels, crouching down briefly to snatch one of them and bringing it across his shoulder, flinching and scrabbling awkwardly for the other side of it.

"This is Hell," he said, stating the obvious pretty much. "It's not like they pack a first aid kit."

He gestured to the towels. "Could you maybe scrub my hair dry. I can't get to it like this, and to be honest... I just want to go to sleep. That's the best thing for me."

Sam just let Dean stand still, working his way through cleaning off the come and the few splashes of blood. Dean was mostly bruised, which meant that most of his pain was inside, rather than out. Not inside physically. Sam didn't know how to deal with that, how to cope with it. Dean was meant to be the strong one, but when things like this happened he internalized, and bad things usually just got worse. Coping wasn't something that Dean did well.

So he went to town with cleaning him, scrubbing to try and get some of the feel of the archangel off him. Cas had been his friend, and Sam wasn't blind, he knew there was something there. Whether or not they'd ever been intimate or not he had no idea. He hoped they had. God... God, if Lucifer had ruined that for them...

And Sam couldn't help blaming himself. The fact was, if he hadn't gone down there, Dean and Cas would never have followed him.

Finally he reached forward and shut off the water, stepping out of the shower to drag down a towel and throwing it across Dean's shoulders.

"Come on. Dry off and get into some dry clothes, we're going to go for a drive."

Sam knew today was going to be hard. It could be awful, in fact. Of course what he expected was to find them thrown back into their usual routine, Sam at Eliot's back even after he'd been so gentle with him. His back still ached, but he was healing fast thanks to his usual - secret - diet, and Hell's natural attributes, but he hadn't forgotten--wasn't likely to forget quickly.

Lucifer would surely not join them again, Sam thought--but Sam was wrong. Lucifer came at around midday, well before he'd have considered taking Eliot to bed. To be honest, he was putting it off. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him again.

He came attended by a demon with a clipboard this time, standing in the doorway as Sam looked at him, baffled.

"Are we going somewhere?" he asked, carefully.

Lucifer stepped in, petting his hair, until Sam lowered his head, his gaze, utterly submissive, and told him yes, that both he and Eliot were to come with him. They were even invited to dress with clothes laid out on the bed, which made Sam suspicious. He could guess where they were going, what they would be invited to do, and that Eliot would fail. He knew it already, but he stepped out obediently, following Lucifer and the demon through the long gothic hallways.

He hung back, but didn't say a word to Eliot, already psyching himself up for what was to come ahead.

At last they stepped into a torture room, recognisable by the floor which tapered into the center, where a hole in the floor under the table would drain away anything anything that splashed. The body laying out on it was an older man in an expensive suit, who clearly had no true understanding of where he was, or what had happened to him. When they stepped inside, he parsed some spiel about calling his lawyer, and the police.

Eliot had guessed as much but he thought it wouldn't hurt to ask and hoped to be surprised. But regardless, it was good to see Sam was able to relax despite his condition and Eliot was almost reluctant to let him go when he pulled away.

Eliot followed Sam up, face stern when he saw the man's difficulty with the towel. "Yeah," Eliot answered, stepping up behind Sam, "Lemme."

He made short work of toweling off Sam's hair, then carefully padded his back dry too. The bleeding seemed to have stopped while they were in the water, as impossible as that seemed, but it meant Sam was healing and Eliot knew it was a good sign. Only when Sam was taken care of did Eliot make quick work to dry himself as well. Save it felt strange, that Sam was injured while he remained unscathed this time.

Looking up, enjoy realized that by the time he was done, Sam had already moved to the bed. He followed, feeling awkward but a sense of relief as well. It would be nice to have a bed under him again, even if it was for only one night. "So how does this work?"

A night on the bed didn't leave Eliot as refreshed as he hoped, but it was still better than the cage by several times. For the first time he could stretch out his legs when he slept, even if that meant they hung over the edge a little. While the bed felt too soft and he still had trouble sleeping the night through undisturbed, he woke up without feeling his knees and back aching like an old man for once.

It left him feeling good to start the day, even though he expected things to go back to normal and would probably go downhill. He was realistic about it so he wasn't particularly shocked when the Devil showed up again in the afternoon. After the session yesterday, Eliot had the feeling that he wouldn't be left alone so soon, he expected that. It was still hard to see Sam behave like a broken man immediately in Lucifer's presence though.

The clothes, the demon lackey, they all bode ill although Eliot couldn't figure out what. He tried to guess from Sam, but the man was as silent as he ever was when the Devil was around and Eliot found no help from him. Yet the answer was self evident when after the short trip they reached their destination, a clear place of torture with the victim tied down in the middle. The room wasn't an improvised area with plastic wraps for easy cleaning that Eliot was used to, but with a built in drain in the middle that proved it's permanent status. This was the type of place Hell was, and the routine Eliot suffered before Sam took over.

From the clothes he was given --scratchy, he wasn't used to wearing clothes anymore-- he knew the victim this time wouldn't be him, at least physically. But that didn't make him relax at all. He could guess what the Devil wanted with him and the tension in the room just built that much more.

For the first time since Lucifer walked in today, Eliot spoke, "No, I won't do it."

It was always best to say few words. Lots of words left you exposed, and Sam had learned that very quickly. Lucifer was good at snatching openings, and making any situation become more uncomfortable by turning someone's words against him. Sam had lost a lot of his love for himself and his brother that way, told truths that he couldn't deny, even though they were awful--even though he would never have accepted them from the mouth of another.

Lucifer made him believe them. For example he'd sworn that Dean would come and rescue him for a week, before Lucifer had pointed out that even if he was rescued, Sam was ruined for the world now. He would never go back to being who he was; he'd always be Lucifer's bitch. Sam believed that. He never suggested rescue again. Speaking was just risky, so he only did it when he really had something to say. Eliot was learning quickly too.

Sam felt himself tense as Eliot denied the Devil what he wanted, just like he'd expected. Sure enough, Lucifer stepped up beside Eliot, looking at him intently.

"Are you sure about that? It isn't anything that Robert here doesn't deserve. He's an embezzler, and an adulterer--aren't you Robbie?"

"Go fuck yourself," Robert snarled at Lucifer.

"That wasn't very nice, was it, Eliot? You see? He's not a very nice person."

Sam looked across at Eliot, willing him to do it. God, he'd do it eventually, why not now? Didn't he know what would happen?

Dean shook his head vhenemetly before he stepped back away from Sam. "No, Sam. I'm not going for a drive. I'm going to my room and I'm going to lie down on my stomach and I'm going to drink enough alcohol that I pass out. Tomorrow morning when I wake up we can go for a drive." His voice was hollow but his tone was absolute. He knew for absolute certainty that he would not be able to comfortably sit on the bench seat of his beloved car without feeling intense pain in his hips, lower back, and ass.

"We are not going to talk about this. Ever." He said more to try and prevent his brother from trying to get him to open up. He couldn't process this right now, he needed time to try and cope with what happened.

While he knew Cas was there...that Cas felt the pleasure..they both had felt the pain of being manipulated and forced to endure what happened. Their first time had been stolen from them and there was nothing that could be done to fix it.

Feeling a little more like himself, shock warded off for the moment, Dean tried to walk around Sam to get his robe. He needed to be away from his well meaning but overprotective brother.

Whether Eliot saw Sam's look and ignored it or missed it completely, Eliot was still standing firm with what he said. "I don't care what he did, I ain't doin' it."

This was what Eliot was apologizing to Sam for yesterday, his inability to give the Devil what he wanted. He knew this moment would come, where the Devil would push at him and he would push back instead of bend. He didn't expect it to arrive so quickly after yesterday, but with Lucifer knowing Sam was a leash around Eliot, the backlash may fall onto the other man again. But here, in this situation with them both dressed, he hoped it wouldn't be as horrible.

Eliot turned away from the Devil to the man on the bed who was watching the scene unfold with anger and perplexity. The poor soul still had no idea what was going on but Eliot wasn't about to enlighten him. The man was damned like all of them.

"Put me back on the rack or throw me with the rest of these souls, but I'm not doin' it. You said he's not very nice? Neither am I. So fuck you, Lucifer."

"Dean--Dean, that's not what I meant by go for a drive. I mean you can lie in the back. I'll drive us somewhere just a long way away from here, put some miles on the clock, and you can get drunk and sleep and wake up in another state, a whole hell of a long way away from here.

"You don't want to be here, Dean. Not in the bunker. Not sleeping in the room next to his."

He didn't block Dean, but he did follow him, like a dog on a leash, tailing in his wake.

"Maybe if we drive far enough, we can get away from it, just for a little while. Maybe drive as far as the ocean, for once, and you don't have to do anything but lay in the back and sleep."

Sam dropped the towel back into Eliot's hands, and let him go to work on drying him, grateful for how gentle he was with the towel, and the fact that he was considerate of his pain at all. Sam didn't resent his resistance at all--had their positions been reversed, Sam would have done just the same. He probably would have let Lucifer go to town with the dildo, too.

Eliot had been kind to him, and Sam wasn't going to forget that any time soon. That was why he was encouraging Eliot to sleep with him on the bed; it was reward and forgiveness both.

"We stay down this end, otherwise he knows. You can't sleep in the bed. It's reserved for people, and we aren't people."

That was very blunt, but Sam didn't even acknowledge it thus, just carefully edged down onto it.

"Maybe if you slot up against my back--that way I can curl up. I feel safer in that position."

"No, Sam. I'm not letting some asshole archangel run me out of my home." Dean said as he pulled his robe on and tied it around his waist. "I don't want to go anywhere but to my bed. He won't come back tonight...we can wait till morning." Dean turned and looked Sam in the face. Not the eyes...he couldn't do that yet. "Please..."

He hoped Sam wouldn't make him ask again. Conversation wasn't the easiest thing at the moment and all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, burrow beneath the blankets, and try to sleep this nightmare away.

"Put you back on the rack?" Lucifer tutted, then glanced at Robert again. "You see? You get a reprieve. Well, from us, anyway."

Lucifer gestured, and the bonds tumbled from around Robert, but as he stepped off the rack, surprised and about to get his shout on, the floor opened up underneath him, and he tumbled into a burning pit that stank of singed flesh. The screaming of tortured souls jumped up through the hole, making Sam shiver, before the hole closed tight behind him.

"What do you think, Sam? Shall we put Eliot up there?"

"I'll do it," Sam said, at once. Eliot hadn't wanted to hurt him, but he'd enjoy being up on the rack even less, Sam knew that.

Lucifer just laughed at him. "No. No, Sam, I don't think so. Eliot volunteered first."

And with a snap of his fingers, Eliot was in Robert's place, strapped down. Simple archangel manipulation of reality. Lucifer stepped over him, leaving Sam behind for a moment, smoothing his fingernails against Eliot's cheek.

"Hey, buddy. I hope you're feeling pleased with yourself."

"Yeah, I--"

It was the way Dean didn't look at him that killed him. Sam stared, just for a moment, and then gave up, taking a step back so that he was leaving room for Dean to go past him. He wouldn't push him any more, and god only knew that in a few hours he'd be woken by the sound of Dean screaming in his sleep.

He'd just have to deal with it when it happened. And anything else. He had to be the together one now, the older brother. He didn't know if he was ready for that, but really, what choice did he have?

"Okay. I guess I'll be out here if you need me."

Dean moved out of the bathroom and down the hall to his room. When he passed Castiel's room he couldn't control the shiver that went through him. He could feel his eyes prickling with tears again and had to force himself to walk past it and into his own. He shut the door, locked it, and went over to his dresser. He pulled on a pair of boxers, sweat pants, and a long sleeved t-shirt. After another thought he put on some socks too because...yeah he felt cold again.

Maybe he should have let Sam take him out of the bunker. No, he can do this. He won't lose the only home he's had since Bobby died. He slipped into his bed, lying on his stomach and burrowing beneath the blankets so only the top of his head was visible. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself enough to let sleep claim him. Eventually sleep claimed him and while his dreams weren't good at first...he was actually able to sleep.

Eliot understood, not what they were reduced to, but the oppression that existed even when the Devil wasn't there. He sat on the edge while Sam curled up, resting a hand on his shoulder like a lover would have after sex.

"I shouldn't be against your back," Eliot reminded him gently. "should give it space to air dry."

But Sam insisted, so Eliot moved in, careful to give the man a little gap at least before he very tentatively curled up behind the other man. The bed was narrow for him to properly sleep sideways across so he put his hand on Sam's waist, half to keep himself from falling off the edge and half to assure the man he was there. With the two of them settled, Eliot closed his eyes. It has been a tiring day.

Lucifer

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