fic: Separation of Powers (SPN/Lucifer; Sam, Lucifer; pg)
Huh. That was quicker than expected.
Separation of Powers
Supernatural/Lucifer; Sam, Ruby, Lucifer, Mazikeen; pg; spoilers through all known canon for both series; 1,270 words
"I was like you once. Angry, proud, defiant. Sure that I knew best for everyone."
Just pretend the timelines work. Written for the West Wing title project.
~*~
Separation of Powers
Sam stares at the line of people snaking down the block outside the nightclub, and stops walking. Ruby sighs and rolls her eyes, the exasperated look on Dean's face so familiar that Sam thinks he might be sick.
"What the hell kind of game are you playing?"
"The kind that will get your ass killed if you don't calm the fuck down," she says. "You are way out of your league here, Sammy."
"You don't get to call me that." Sam forces his fists to unclench.
"Whatever." She leads him past the line and up to the velvet rope. The bouncer looks them over, and Sam knows they're underdressed for this kind of place, but Ruby's eyes go from green to black and the guy waves them in without a second glance.
The bar is crowded with the kinds of people Sam hadn't thought really existed outside of movies, though when he was at Stanford, everyone always said LA was different. It says something about his life that drunk starlets and anorexic models are more of an oddity to him than the fact that a demon is possessing his dead brother's body until they can rescue his soul from hell.
There's a blond man who looks like David Bowie playing the piano, and a woman singing some torch song that sounds familiar, but the noise of conversation makes the words hard to understand.
The woman tending bar is beautiful, though only half her face is visible beneath a blank silver mask, and her mouth curls in contempt when she catches sight of Ruby.
Ruby gives her a lingering once-over and Dean's dirty grin. "It's been a while," she says.
"It should have been forever." The bartender's voice is oddly accented and sharp as razor wire. "You dare to show your face here?"
"Are you angry because we tried to kill Lilith, or angry because we failed?" Ruby looks at Sam and says, "Mazikeen is the warleader of the Lilim."
Sam tenses, and Ruby's hand on his wrist stops him from reaching for the gun in his waistband. Not that it could actually kill her. "You really don't want to do that," she says.
"Is there a problem?" The piano player is there suddenly, and Sam feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Whoever this guy is, he's powerful--more powerful than anyone Sam's ever met. The guy smiles, thin lips drawn back over blindingly white teeth, and Sam shivers.
"This was Azazel's anointed one," Mazikeen says scornfully, her esses hissing like snakes, and Sam kind of wants to say hey on his own behalf, but Ruby's right--he is way out of his league here.
"Oh, yes. Little Sammy Winchester, all grown up." The man nods. "You've made some interesting choices." He turns to Ruby. "Your failure is disappointing, but not unexpected." He inclines his head towards Sam. "This one's always been defiant. It's a family trait."
Ruby bows her head, and Sam is reminded of the way Dean always silently took Dad's bitching and yelling, like he believed he deserved it.
"Listen," Sam says, tired of trying to interpret all the undercurrents passing him by, "Ruby says you can help get my brother out of hell. I'm asking you once, nicely."
"Your brother doesn't need my help, Sam. He can leave hell whenever he chooses." The man cocks his head. "Well, he'll have to fight his way out, since most demons don't take it kindly when souls attempt to leave, but there is nothing binding him there. All of that is done."
"I don't," believe you, "understand."
"Hell is a place of eternal torment, a place even demons wish to leave, but it's only a prison to those who believe they deserve to be punished." The man accepts a glass of whiskey from Mazikeen. She doesn't offer one to Sam, and he doesn't ask. "And to those who have no wish to be free."
"Remiel and Duma might see it differently," Ruby says.
"Remiel is an ass and always has been." The man sips at his whiskey. "Duma will see reason."
"Duma," Sam repeats, trying to sort through his confusion. "So angels do exist."
The man glances over the rim of his glass at Sam, and then at Ruby, eyebrow rising in disbelief, or possibly disdain. Sam isn't sure. "More things in heaven and earth," he begins, but Sam cuts him off as things finally click into place.
"I've had it with the cryptic bullshit. So you can quote Shakespeare in addition to scripture. I'm still not any closer to getting my brother back."
"So young and so impatient, Sam. I was like you once." Lucifer sighs and puts down his glass with a precise click on the copper bar. "Angry, proud, defiant. Sure that I knew best for everyone."
"But you didn't."
"Didn't I?" He laughs. "Think about your precious free will, and ask yourself that question again." He rubs a thumb along the rim of his glass. "I can see why Azazel chose you. He must have seen the resemblance even then."
Sam wants to recoil, but forces himself not to move. "I'm nothing like you."
"Keep telling yourself that, Samael." Lucifer smiles again, and this time, Sam can't help but flinch. "The second coming, indeed." He shakes his head. "I killed my older brother, you know. He was rigid and priggish and implacable. I loved him, in a way, and I killed him. It's one of the only things I regret."
"As exciting as this trip down memory lane has been," Sam says, pushing away from the bar and straightening up to his full height, anger and desperation making him brave (or stupid, or both), "I have things I need to do, so if you're not going to help me...."
Lucifer's hand encircles his wrist, long, elegant fingers cool against his skin. "If you are set on this path--and I know you are--Ruby can help. If you let her." He plucks a feather out of thin air and hands it to Sam. "This should get you in to see Remiel and Duma, if you make it that far."
The feather is warm and soft in Sam's hand; it tickles his palm, and he shivers. "Thank you."
Lucifer gives him a long, appraising look. "Don't thank me just yet, Sam. Lilith is a formidable opponent, and she has many allies amongst the hosts of hell."
"You want me to get rid of her, don't you?"
Lucifer shrugs one tuxedo-clad shoulder. "It would make certain things less complicated for me, yes, but I'm not going to demand it of you. Our interests are currently aligned. That's good enough for my purposes." He finishes his glass of whiskey and stands to leave. "And if you should get your brother back, tell him to stop making deals with demons. They never end well." He inclines his head again in acknowledgment, and walks away.
Sam sits back down, legs shaking, and tucks the feather into the inside pocket of his jacket. Mazikeen places a glass in front of him and pours out a shot of Jägermeister. Her expression is still dismissive, but it's no longer actively hostile, and he'll take what he can get.
He knocks back the shot, and notices Ruby doing the same, and for a second he wants to pretend it's really Dean standing next to him, but he can't let himself fall into that trap.
"Let's go," he says, licking the last drops of liquor off his lips and putting the glass down on the bar. "We've got work to do."
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
Separation of Powers
Supernatural/Lucifer; Sam, Ruby, Lucifer, Mazikeen; pg; spoilers through all known canon for both series; 1,270 words
"I was like you once. Angry, proud, defiant. Sure that I knew best for everyone."
Just pretend the timelines work. Written for the West Wing title project.
~*~
Separation of Powers
Sam stares at the line of people snaking down the block outside the nightclub, and stops walking. Ruby sighs and rolls her eyes, the exasperated look on Dean's face so familiar that Sam thinks he might be sick.
"What the hell kind of game are you playing?"
"The kind that will get your ass killed if you don't calm the fuck down," she says. "You are way out of your league here, Sammy."
"You don't get to call me that." Sam forces his fists to unclench.
"Whatever." She leads him past the line and up to the velvet rope. The bouncer looks them over, and Sam knows they're underdressed for this kind of place, but Ruby's eyes go from green to black and the guy waves them in without a second glance.
The bar is crowded with the kinds of people Sam hadn't thought really existed outside of movies, though when he was at Stanford, everyone always said LA was different. It says something about his life that drunk starlets and anorexic models are more of an oddity to him than the fact that a demon is possessing his dead brother's body until they can rescue his soul from hell.
There's a blond man who looks like David Bowie playing the piano, and a woman singing some torch song that sounds familiar, but the noise of conversation makes the words hard to understand.
The woman tending bar is beautiful, though only half her face is visible beneath a blank silver mask, and her mouth curls in contempt when she catches sight of Ruby.
Ruby gives her a lingering once-over and Dean's dirty grin. "It's been a while," she says.
"It should have been forever." The bartender's voice is oddly accented and sharp as razor wire. "You dare to show your face here?"
"Are you angry because we tried to kill Lilith, or angry because we failed?" Ruby looks at Sam and says, "Mazikeen is the warleader of the Lilim."
Sam tenses, and Ruby's hand on his wrist stops him from reaching for the gun in his waistband. Not that it could actually kill her. "You really don't want to do that," she says.
"Is there a problem?" The piano player is there suddenly, and Sam feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Whoever this guy is, he's powerful--more powerful than anyone Sam's ever met. The guy smiles, thin lips drawn back over blindingly white teeth, and Sam shivers.
"This was Azazel's anointed one," Mazikeen says scornfully, her esses hissing like snakes, and Sam kind of wants to say hey on his own behalf, but Ruby's right--he is way out of his league here.
"Oh, yes. Little Sammy Winchester, all grown up." The man nods. "You've made some interesting choices." He turns to Ruby. "Your failure is disappointing, but not unexpected." He inclines his head towards Sam. "This one's always been defiant. It's a family trait."
Ruby bows her head, and Sam is reminded of the way Dean always silently took Dad's bitching and yelling, like he believed he deserved it.
"Listen," Sam says, tired of trying to interpret all the undercurrents passing him by, "Ruby says you can help get my brother out of hell. I'm asking you once, nicely."
"Your brother doesn't need my help, Sam. He can leave hell whenever he chooses." The man cocks his head. "Well, he'll have to fight his way out, since most demons don't take it kindly when souls attempt to leave, but there is nothing binding him there. All of that is done."
"I don't," believe you, "understand."
"Hell is a place of eternal torment, a place even demons wish to leave, but it's only a prison to those who believe they deserve to be punished." The man accepts a glass of whiskey from Mazikeen. She doesn't offer one to Sam, and he doesn't ask. "And to those who have no wish to be free."
"Remiel and Duma might see it differently," Ruby says.
"Remiel is an ass and always has been." The man sips at his whiskey. "Duma will see reason."
"Duma," Sam repeats, trying to sort through his confusion. "So angels do exist."
The man glances over the rim of his glass at Sam, and then at Ruby, eyebrow rising in disbelief, or possibly disdain. Sam isn't sure. "More things in heaven and earth," he begins, but Sam cuts him off as things finally click into place.
"I've had it with the cryptic bullshit. So you can quote Shakespeare in addition to scripture. I'm still not any closer to getting my brother back."
"So young and so impatient, Sam. I was like you once." Lucifer sighs and puts down his glass with a precise click on the copper bar. "Angry, proud, defiant. Sure that I knew best for everyone."
"But you didn't."
"Didn't I?" He laughs. "Think about your precious free will, and ask yourself that question again." He rubs a thumb along the rim of his glass. "I can see why Azazel chose you. He must have seen the resemblance even then."
Sam wants to recoil, but forces himself not to move. "I'm nothing like you."
"Keep telling yourself that, Samael." Lucifer smiles again, and this time, Sam can't help but flinch. "The second coming, indeed." He shakes his head. "I killed my older brother, you know. He was rigid and priggish and implacable. I loved him, in a way, and I killed him. It's one of the only things I regret."
"As exciting as this trip down memory lane has been," Sam says, pushing away from the bar and straightening up to his full height, anger and desperation making him brave (or stupid, or both), "I have things I need to do, so if you're not going to help me...."
Lucifer's hand encircles his wrist, long, elegant fingers cool against his skin. "If you are set on this path--and I know you are--Ruby can help. If you let her." He plucks a feather out of thin air and hands it to Sam. "This should get you in to see Remiel and Duma, if you make it that far."
The feather is warm and soft in Sam's hand; it tickles his palm, and he shivers. "Thank you."
Lucifer gives him a long, appraising look. "Don't thank me just yet, Sam. Lilith is a formidable opponent, and she has many allies amongst the hosts of hell."
"You want me to get rid of her, don't you?"
Lucifer shrugs one tuxedo-clad shoulder. "It would make certain things less complicated for me, yes, but I'm not going to demand it of you. Our interests are currently aligned. That's good enough for my purposes." He finishes his glass of whiskey and stands to leave. "And if you should get your brother back, tell him to stop making deals with demons. They never end well." He inclines his head again in acknowledgment, and walks away.
Sam sits back down, legs shaking, and tucks the feather into the inside pocket of his jacket. Mazikeen places a glass in front of him and pours out a shot of Jägermeister. Her expression is still dismissive, but it's no longer actively hostile, and he'll take what he can get.
He knocks back the shot, and notices Ruby doing the same, and for a second he wants to pretend it's really Dean standing next to him, but he can't let himself fall into that trap.
"Let's go," he says, licking the last drops of liquor off his lips and putting the glass down on the bar. "We've got work to do."
end
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~