Lucifer/Sam - open to Michael/Dean
From the very moment in which Lucifer had twisted the first demon into form, his fate had been sealed. He would fall, only to rise again, and - when he finally did - he was to battle his brother to the death. Here. At this cemetery. What was once a place of sanctuary for the dead had been turned into a place of severe unrest. The displaced had created a feeble army in the hope that they would be able to defeat him and, in return, Lucifer had given them a taste of his own. They wanted a fight; they wanted to die. What better place to do so than on the very ground that they would likely be buried?
Lucifer stood away from the battle. He hadn't come here for them.
It was Michael. His brother. His family. If he was to win this war, Lucifer had to do what was necessary. Michael was his brother, yes, but he was also determined to destroy Lucifer because God, once upon a time, had seared a thought into the hands of prophecy. It was stupid, really. God was gone. They were here. Lucifer didn't want to kill his brother. Even after spending a million years stuffed away in the box that he had been cast into, Lucifer found that he still didn't despise him. It wasn't his fault. The only person to blame was their father. He was the one who had started all of this. He was the one who had split their family down the middle, leaving it to fray and crack into something so...pathetic that even Lucifer had trouble recognizing it when he resurfaced. If there was anyone either of them should have been fighting, it was daddy dearest. Michael was incapable of seeing that. As always, he was nothing more than a soldier, blindly following the orders that he had been given. It was because of his inability to think for himself that Lucifer found himself standing at the heart of Stull cemetery.
Michael would show. He had been waiting for this moment for far too long. He wouldn't dare pass it up.
Lucifer curled Sam Winchester's fingers into his palms, balling the hands of his vessel into fists. He was still getting used to the new body. Unlike Nick, Sam was a perfect fit. After spending so long using a body that was so fragile, it felt strange to be in one that felt right. Lucifer couldn't help but smile at the thought. He had always known that this body would be his. For as long as Sam had protested, Lucifer knew that he would best him. And he had. The only problem was - and it was a small thing, really - that Sam, as a host, was unexpectedly...stubborn. He had felt him wriggling around on the inside a few times since he had taken him over. It wasn't much, but it was more than Lucifer had felt with anyone else. Sam was trying to kick him out. He was trying to escape. Somehow, he had enough strength inside of him to let Lucifer know that he wasn't willing to be subjected to his control so easily.
But he wouldn't get his way. He belonged to Lucifer now, just as Dean Winchester belonged to Michael. It was with these hands, whether Sam liked it or not, that Lucifer would kill Michael. And Dean as well, he supposed. Together, he and Sam would share their pain. The bond of the two rebellious sons who had rejected their fathers orders would only strengthen through the experience.