medicatedmaniac:

All Roads Lead To Rome by *MedicatedManiac

Lucifer!Sam/Crazy!Cas/Sexy!Rose lol

Done for Sassy Week

☆ four otps [2/4]

But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?

2014sammy:

Lucifer knelt by a little rose bush he had been watching grow throughout the first year he had spent in his true vessel. Even with his knowledge of the inevitable, he never expected the youngest Winchester to succumb to him without some kind of manipulation. It upset him that the blonde still fought so fiercely to take control even after the agreement, however. It wasn’t a bother to him though; keeping Sam tucked away. It was just a constant reminder there were others who didn’t have faith in him. Those who called him ‘Devil’ and ‘evil’. All he wanted was to set things right. To have planet Earth in the original state Lucifer thought it was supposed to have. There would be no humans. No wasteful, violent, beings that were a constant threat to it. 

Why was he punished for something like jealousy and loving too much? He loved his father more than anything, and he only wished to not be set aside as he felt he had been. Regardless, the human race was still a threat to him even then and he wanted it gone. 

With the onslaught of the Croatoan virus beginning to spread into fruition, he knew Dean Winchester held the only tool that could end him and his goal: the Colt, and that in due time, he would come. 

Goodbye, yourself
So, want to talk?

samanddean5ever:

We’re two halves made whole.

2014sammy:

Lucifer made it a habit to lurk about Camp Chitaqua every few days, leaving reminders behind by killing the guards from whichever side he entered. No matter what, the message was, resistance was futile. It was more violent than he intended to be towards the survivors but they didn’t seem to get the idea. No one ever listened to him. Who would listen to the Devil?

He walked noiselessly into the camp, his keen eyes moving from one crudely made cabin to another until they stopped on Dean Winchester’s. He was humble as a leader, his home not being any different from the others. Without any effort he was at the soldier’s bedside, gazing down at his sleeping form. Even in sleep the man was ready to defend himself and what he stood for with his sawed-off shotgun held tightly against his chest. 

Sam kicked and screamed at Lucifer from the inside, but he would ignore him as always. He dared to press his palm against Dean’s forehead in curiosity. Not long after, with a flap of his six wings that were invisible to the human eye, he was gone.

☆ two quotes [1/2]